#so i kept an ear out for that and noticed one of the first times he seemed to believe what he was archiving

[written-in-knife]

Jump Rings and Bite Marks

Floyd Leech x gn!reader, pre-relationship

they/them pronouns, miscommunications, fluff, swearing

You have a crush on Floyd, Floyd has a crush on you... not that either of you admit to it in a way that the other understands.

Word Count: 6110

Okay so remember how we looked past the intro on my Cloudcalling fic and it got better a little ways in? Yeah? I need yall to trust me again, there's like two sections of lead up into the good stuff that I couldn't figure out how to rework to fit better but they're a little too tied into the plot to get rid of. Yall trust me? This is heavily influenced by various other Floyd fics and it's also my tribute to the merform gatcha gods for my final ten pull, wish me luck!

Ace and Deuce had finally gotten used to how blunt you often were, more often showing annoyance with their actions than cracking a smile, but they knew you cared about them. So when the anemones sprouted on their heads, they weren’t surprised to see you rolling your eyes and crossing your arms but you agreed to help them out to the best of your abilities the next day at lunch. You already had the Headmage on your ass about fixing this problem, but you weren’t about to leave your best friends hanging.

After you followed Azul around for a day with Jack, you were approached by the twins. When they turned their attention from the anemones to you, your friends watched as your eyes went wide. You looked... nervous? For the first time since they met you, you looked nervous about a non life threatening situation. Which was fair, the Leech twins were intimidating. Floyd teased you about the look on your face, dubbing you Shrimpy. Jack was the only one to notice the shift in your demeanor, namely the blush that rose to your cheeks for a moment as they kept speaking to you. He said nothing, figuring you were just uncomfortable about being singled out. When you went to the Mostro Lounge that night, you were surprisingly accommodating when the twins volunteered you and Jack to help with orders. You didn’t need any direction or instruction past how the tables were set up, you just rolled up your sleeves and got to work.

Jack noticed the blush on your cheeks again when the twins confronted you outside the Atlantica Memorial Museum. While Deuce and Ace were going pale upon seeing the two, you were red? He hoped with fury. He noticed it again after you were all electrocuted by the contract in Azul’s office, when Floyd threatened to squeeze you all. He watched you hang in the doorway a moment as you all escaped, he was the only one to see your wide smirk as you blew them all a kiss goodbye before joining the rest in their escape. When you finally got the photo out of the museum and got cornered by the twins again, Jack swore you looked happy to see them, grinning wide when you heard Floyd call out Shrimpy. That was because of your plan, right? Right?

The boys didn’t have to know about your little crush, the way your mind blanked whenever Floyd got a little too close. So when he swam in a tight circle around you, his tail fin brushing against your arms as he wrapped around and away, it was all you could do to not start twirling your damn hair. You sounded a little too eager to your own ears when you took up Floyd’s suggestion of “tag” until the sun went down, hoping the others just saw it as you being thrilled that your plan was working. As with most magical fights, the best you could do was call shots. During the overblots, you found blunt objects you could physically attack with, but underwater when your movements were so restricted anyways? No shot. You had just yanked Deuce out of the way of an incoming spell, and he turned to thank you just in time to see Floyd swimming up from behind, much faster than anyone expected. You barely had time to turn around at your friend’s fearful expression when Floyd crashed into you, wrapping his arms around you and swimming away. The way he was holding you pinned your arms to your sides, and he started absolutely cackling as he started for the surface. You were much too close, the skin contact, the way you were pressed against his chest. Your face was bright red at this point. You held your breath as he broke the surface of the water, the potion still in effect, and with his full strength coupled with the momentum, chucked you into the air. You wanted to yell, but continued holding your breath until you were back in the water. When you dropped back under, you were laughing, loud and delighted. It absolutely threw Floyd off as he swam to grab you again, holding you by the waist this time, twirling the two of you around as he swam. You yelped when he grabbed you, still laughing as he moved.

“Shrimpyy~ where’s the picture?” He drawled lazily, as if he weren’t swimming at full speed, twisting around with you in his arms.

“I don’t have it!” You laughed, eyes squeezed shut, holding onto his arms.

“Eh? Are you having fun?” He asked with a large, sharp grin, leaning in closer and squeezing you a little tighter.

You didn’t have time to respond before he dropped you, practically bowling you into your classmates. You landed on top of Ace, who tumbled into Jack before you were all in a heap on the ground, you still chuckling and dizzy.

..

Three overblots in the bag and you were finally getting used to the way things would just go back to normal afterwards, like there wasn’t just a massive, life-threatening fight. Jack handed you the photo from the museum, announcing your victory despite there not being a contract anymore. When you held up the picture, Floyd came over and draped himself on your right shoulder.

“Aha ha, that takes me back! This is a picture from our school field trip.” He announced as he leaned in closer to get a better look at it, pointing at the kids in the picture. “Me 'n Jade are right here. Aaand...” he dragged his finger over with his drawn out word, “see the kid sulking way off in the corner? That's baby Azul!”

Azul screamed as you pulled the picture closer to your face to look and cooed about how cute he was. “DON’T LOOK! PLEASE DON’T LOOK!”

He made to leap forward to snatch the picture, only to be blocked by Jade, now hovering near your left side with a sly grin. “Well well, Azul, you sure are spirited all of a sudden.” Jade practically purred. “Shouldn't you get a little more sleep? Considering how far things have already gone, it would be easier for you to let this one go.”

Floyd took the picture from you to hold out for the others to see, not removing himself from your shoulder as he did. Azul screamed again as everyone looked at the picture, making their own remarks on baby Azul.

..

Jade noticed how close his brother was getting to you, he would do this fairly often. Find someone he thought was interesting, cling to them for a week or so, then get bored and never interact with them again. But the weeks were going by with no sign of him letting up. Floyd sulked when he couldn’t find you at Ramshackle after a few days into the winter holiday, not knowing you were being essentially held captive in Scarabia. When you and Grim crash landed in the Mostro Lounge, Floyd scooped you up off the floor, your feet dangling in the air as he squeezed you and twirled you around. He only put you back down when the Scarabia students threatened them, and Jade watched as he stepped protectively in front of you. Interesting. After the fight, Jade patched up the cuts and scrapes you’d gotten when you crashed into the lounge. He sat you in a stool at the bar, Floyd jumping up to sit on the counter behind you, despite Azul’s protesting, as you told them what happened. You had almost gotten used to Floyd coming up behind you and resting his chin on top of your head at this point, so it was no surprise that he did it when you were trying to explain.

More time passed than Jade expected. You’d dealt with Jamil and Vil’s overblots and Floyd was still following you around. He noticed his brother snap at anyone else who got too friendly with you, and watched as he brought you little gifts nearly every day. A tooth here, a scale there, he even found you a pearl once. He followed you around more often than not, to the point where Azul wrote up an employee contract for you to get paid to sit in the Lounge so Floyd would show up for work and stay for his entire shift. Most of your classmates avoided you like the plague, even when Floyd wasn’t around. Even your friends were almost too intimidated to hang around. Almost. They stuck around when Floyd was busy with something else, often asking if you were okay, if you were in danger. You always waved them off, claiming that Floyd was mostly harmless. Interesting.

You were in the lounge, getting paid to sit at the bar so Floyd would do his job. You’d tried to sit in the booths before, but it was apparently too far away for Floyd’s liking as he would wander out of the kitchen and join your table, food orders piling up while he just sat with you. So Azul moved you to the bar, designating a seat for you where Floyd could see you through the window. You pretended not to notice when Azul would grumble about this “silly infatuation” Floyd had. You knew he liked having you around, he had mentioned that he thought your reactions were hilarious, but you wouldn’t go as far as to call it an infatuation. Sure, you flirted here and there, but you just kinda figured that was part of his whole vibe. You were working on your homework at the bar when there was a clatter from the kitchen, followed by Floyd letting out a long string of curses and the telltale bang that he’d just kicked something. You glanced around quickly, trying to see if Jade or Azul were nearby to go in and check on him, only to find them both busy with their tables. You hopped off your bar stool and wandered to the kitchen door, pushing it open just enough to poke your head in. Floyd was standing in the middle of the room, rubbing at the side of his head and pouting, looking down at something in his hand.

“Floyd?” You called out, catching his attention. “You okay?”

He looked over quickly, pouting even harder as he did. “Shrimpyy...” He groaned as he wandered over, pulling you into the kitchen proper and draping himself over your shoulders like he usually did. He stared you in the eyes for a moment before looking down at what was in his hand again, prompting you to also look down. Shining blue scales and jump rings in a pile in his hand. You looked back up at him, tilting your head slightly to see that the only part of his earring that was still there was the post itself.

“Oh, what happened?” You asked, reaching up to take the post out of his ear.

“I caught it on that damn shelf,” he huffed, glaring over at it like he could set it on fire, “Azul’s never fucking in here, why’s it matter to him if I move the damn thing higher up so I don’t bash my fucking head?”

His ear wasn’t bleeding, as far as you could tell. You dropped the post into your palm and held your hand under his for him to pass you the rest of the pieces. He just stared at you for a moment before tilting his head in confusion.

“I’ve got a needle nose back at Ramshackle,” you explained, not moving your hand away, “I can bring it back to you in the morning.”

He just blinked at you for a moment before carefully dumping the rest of the pieces into your hand. “Careful with it, our mom made us these before we started middle school.”

“I’ll be careful.” You promised, extracting yourself out from underneath him.

He just watched as you gently folded your fingers around the pieces and walked out of the kitchen, too much going through his head to make a bigger reaction. You headed back to your spot to gather up your things, catching Azul’s attention from where he was making a coffee.

“Done with your work?” He asked from behind the bar.

“No, something came up,” you shrugged, slinging your bag over your shoulder, still gently cradling the earring pieces to your chest, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He furrowed his eyebrows in confusion and concern as he watched you walk out of the lounge. He’d seen you come out of the kitchen... He put the coffee down and walked back into the kitchen, where Floyd was still standing in the same spot, rubbing at his earlobe.

“What was that?” Azul asked, crossing his arms.

“I think I’m getting married.” Floyd responded casually before turning back to the prep table.

“What does that mean?!”

You’d had to go to Sam’s to pick up more jump rings, one of them having gotten lost or snapped when the earring broke. Sam really did stock everything, and you were glad for it. It didn’t take long at all to put the pieces back together. Three scales, the tracks still in place, it was just the jump rings that had stretched open with the strain. You decided to just replace the rings all together rather than risk the metal fatigue on such a small wire. You finished it with enough time to finish your homework before bed. The next morning before classes, you headed over to Octavinelle. You were hoping to find Floyd in the student lounge, or maybe Mostro, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. You’d been to the twins’ room before when Floyd insisted on showing you a new pair of sneakers he’d gotten for basketball, so you knew where it was. You weren’t particularly excited about dropping in unannounced so early in the morning, however. You wandered down the hallway towards their room, other students giving you a wide berth as you passed, muttering behind your back. Ever since Floyd started following you around, it was always the Octavinelle students that had the most to talk about, and they weren’t exactly subtle. But you ignored it as you always did as you approached the twins’ door and knocked, it’s not like their gossip could bother you unless you let it, right? You only had to wait a moment before the door swung open revealing Jade, hair half ironed and a confused look on his face. The look only lasted a moment though, quickly turning to a smirk before he turned to go back to his desk, leaving the door open for you. You stepped inside and closed the door behind you, Jade sitting down to return his focus to his flat iron. Floyd was still asleep on his side of the room, face down, tangled up in his blankets and hoodie, one arm dangling off the bed. You walked over and set your bag down next to the bed, leaning down to put a hand on his shoulder and shake him gently. You didn’t get the chance to shake. The second your hand hit his shoulder, his eyes flew open, the hand that had been brushing the floor shot up to grab you by the lapel of your jacket. It only took a second for him to adjust, his murderous look quickly shifting to a wide, sleepy grin as he let go of your jacket.

“Shrimpyy~” He crooned through a yawn, grabbing your arm to pull you on top of him as he rolled onto his back.

“Floyd--!” You yelped as he yanked you into bed, arms coiling tightly around you.

He hummed pleasantly, nuzzling his face into your shoulder. “You should wake me up every morning, you’re much nicer than Jade~!”

“If only it were always that easy to wake you.” Jade chimed in.

“Ya don’t haffta dump cold water on me, ya know.” Floyd snapped, arms tightening around you as he turned his head to glare at his brother.

“Sometimes that is the only way, Floyd.” Jade grinned wickedly at him before turning off the flat iron and standing up. “Do try not to stay here all morning, we still have classes to get to.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Floyd huffed, burrowing his head back into your shoulder as Jade left the room.

Once Jade was gone, you pushed up slightly from Floyd’s grasp, pushing his face to the side to get better access to his ear. He laughed at your antics until he felt you slide his earring back into place, one hand darting up to feel the fixed jewelry. He looked shocked for a moment as he turned his head back to you before laughing in delight, both arms coiling around you and twisting you to lay next to him on the bed between him and the wall, the two of you now facing each other on your sides, your legs still draped over his. He didn’t say anything as he nuzzled back into your shoulder, and for a moment you thought it was just him being sweet, until you felt his teeth dig into the bend of your neck.

“FLOYD!” You shrieked, instinctively grabbing the hair at the base of his skull and yanking.

It did little to deter him, his sharp teeth digging further into the soft skin of your neck painfully. After what felt like a very long moment, you felt his teeth slide back out, replaced by his tongue dragging over the wound. The sensation made you shiver as he did it again, pain rippling up your neck.

“What the hell was that for?!” You asked as he finally pulled back, a little bit of your blood on his bottom lip.

“What, I can’t say thank you?” He asked in a teasing tone, his hands running down your back as he moved in closer, eyes locked with yours. “Yer all red~”

“That hurt, Floyd.” You snapped.

“Hm... could bite me back, it’d make ya feel better.” He yawned again before flashing his teeth at you in a grin that felt slightly menacing.

“No thanks.” You huffed, moving to sit up again. He gave you a confused look as you climbed back over him to get off the bed. “I gotta meet up with Jamil before class starts, I’ll see you later.”

He sat up, watching after you as you left the room, looking more and more confused the further away you got. He waited a few minutes to be sure you were gone before he rolled out of bed, not bothering to get dressed before heading to Azul’s office. He was pouting when he slammed open the door, startling Azul away from his paperwork, Jade casually looking up from a page he was reviewing.

“Ah, Floyd. Did everything go well?” Jade asked, the question alone making Floyd kick over a chair before flopping onto the couch.

“No.” He spat out, curling up on his side, facing the back of the couch.

“What in the world are you two on about now?” Azul sighed heavily, glancing between the two of them.

“Well, whyever not?” Jade asked, ignoring Azul’s question.

“They fixed my earring!” Floyd grumbled, turning his head to display it. “And they didn’t even bite me back!”

Azul and Jade exchanged glances for a second, before Azul chimed in. “You... bit Yuu?”

“Duh!”

“Well, they are a human, perhaps they don’t--”

“I’m sure it just startled them, and they will return your affections when they are ready.” Jade said over Azul, hoping more than anything to just watch the chaos unfold.

“But they fixed my earring!” He whined, pouting at his brother, apparently not having heard Azul.

“They are human, it’s likely humans take things slower.”

Azul threw his hands up slightly, glancing around as if to confirm with someone else that he was actually in the room.

“Fiiine...”

Things changed slightly after you fixed Floyd’s earring. He’d bit you really hard, it was likely going to end up leaving a scar behind. But every day afterwards, you caught him staring at you more, as if expecting you to do something. After a few days of him staring so intently, you ended up attempting to do a backflip on the grass in the courtyard. Attempt being the operative word. You got most of the way through it before belly flopping into the ground. It was better than you thought you would do, and it made him bust out laughing as he jogged over to check on you. Every day his stare seemed to get more and more intense, but not much else changed. His gifts were coming a little more frequently, he even made you a little necklace with a chain, some wire, and another pearl he’d found, and he was still hovering enough to keep most of your classmates away. Almost a week out and your neck was still sore and bruised. You were eating lunch in the cafeteria with the freshman group when you turned your neck wrong, catching a painful spot and causing you to reach up and massage it.

“You alright?” Epel asked when you accidentally bumped him with your elbow.

“Yeah, sorry, just hurts.” You grumbled.

“What does?”

“Floyd fucking bit me last week.” You sighed, rolling your shoulder a bit as you put your hand down. “Like, really hard.”

“Dude, he bit you?” Ace asked through an amused snort, getting you to glare at him.

“...How hard?” Jack asked hesitantly, Ace snickering behind his hand.

“Hard enough to bleed, probably gonna scar.” You complained, popping the top button on your shirt and moving the collar of your shirt aside for them to see it. “Jamil helped me clean it up, but even he thinks it’s gonna leave a mark.”

Jack’s eyes widened for a moment before he looked back down at his lunch, cheeks dusted pink and ears flattening backwards. You shook his reaction off as Epel examined it a little closer.

“It doesn’t look infected, at least.” He confirmed, still grimacing. “Ya weren’t kiddin’ though, that looks rough.”

“Yeah, that’s gonna scar.” Deuce agreed, turning back to his lunch as you covered the mark up again. “At least you have a permanent reminder of NRC, even if you do go home.”

“Gee, I’m so incredibly thrilled.” You deadpanned, making him snort out a laugh.

Ace nudged Jack, who was still staring intently at his sandwich, with his elbow. “What’s up man? I know your puritanical beliefs don’t allow you to view ankles or whatever--” you nearly cackled at the quip, “--but it’s alright! They’re properly covered now!”

“You make me sound like a whore for showing my sinful neck.”

“Yeah, you heard me.”

You snickered before turning to Deuce and Epel. “Imagine if I had to show this shit to Rollo.”

“I think he’d die of a heart attack the second you opened your collar.” Deuce laughed, Epel chuckling along.

“Likely guy’d pop an aneurysm ‘fore a boner.” Epel chimed in.

The three of you going off on your tangent kept Jack from explaining what a bite like that meant. He figured you’d find out eventually. The topic changed entirely for the rest of the lunch period. Before lunch was over, however, someone plopped down beside you, cutting off any remaining conversation.

“Hey Floyd.” You said without having to look up, still working on the last bits of your lunch as he leaned on your shoulder with a sound that almost resembled a purr.

Ace and Deuce were already on their feet, quickly saying their goodbyes before scrambling away, obviously still traumatized by the contract fiasco. Epel patted your shoulder, careful of your injury, and said goodbye before leaving as well. Jack stayed for a moment, locking eyes with Floyd.

“What’s up, Sea Urchin?” Floyd drawled lazily, a dangerous smile on his face.

Jack shook his head and stood up. “Nothin’. See ya, Yuu.”

You waved to Jack as he left before looking at Floyd, who looked highly satisfied. “Well, you chased off all my friends. What’s up?”

“Meet me in the mirror chamber after class, okay?” He asked, sounding significantly more like a demand.

“What for?”

“It’s a surprise~”

You arrived at the mirror chamber not long after classes let out, having to drop your stuff back at Ramshackle before going. The second you walked through the door, Floyd was in front of you, shoving a potion into your arms.

“Drink this!” He said excitedly before jogging over to the dark mirror.

You examined what he handed you, one of Azul’s water breathing potions, and quirked an eyebrow at him as you moved to join him by the mirror.

“Floyd, where are we going?” You asked, trying not to get exasperated by his antics.

“Less thinkin’ more drinkin’!” He commanded, popping the cork out of the bottle for you.

He nearly lifted it to your lips before you pulled it out of his reach. You sighed heavily before chugging down the disgusting potion while Floyd nearly bounced with excitement. Once the bottle was empty, he grabbed you by the hand and pulled you after him into the mirror, the dizzying transition into the water causing you to squeeze you eyes shut to ward off the vertigo. Once you opened your eyes again, Floyd was in his natural form, absolutely beaming at you before wrapping his arms around your waist and speeding away.

“Floyd!” You laughed as he spun you around, clearly heading in a specific direction. “Where are we going?!”

“You’ll see, quit askin’!” He laughed back at you, twisting in the opposite direction to wrap his tail fin around your legs for a moment.

You rolled your eyes but said nothing, holding onto his shoulders as he cut through the water. You could barely see the scenery of the ocean floor as it whipped past, occasionally able to catch glances of schools of fish as they scattered away from Floyd. The further you went, the darker it got, until you were just able to make out glowing speckles along his arms, up his shoulders, around his neck. It looked like the night sky and you couldn’t stop staring, even as he slowed down. You were finally broken out of the trance when he stopped, laughing as he looked down at you.

“Yer like a fish, distracted by anything shiny.” He teased as he set you down.

Now that you were able to look around, you could see that he brought you to a cave. He’d sat you in the middle on a nicely angled stone in the only patch of light that was filtering in from a hole at the top that was letting in the sun.

“Where are we?” You asked, turning to look at him again, only to find he’d disappeared.

Your head whipped around as you tried to spot him. He wouldn’t just leave you here, right?

His laughter bounced off the cave walls, making it impossible to pinpoint where he actually was. “A cave. Don’t worry, I scoped it out, ain’t nothin’ livin’ in here.”

“Okay... Why are we here, then?”

You spotted the bright flecks of his skin above you on a shaded overhang, lounged out on his stomach on the very edge, glowing yellow eye peering down at you. He grinned as you made eye contact, but you could only see it in the way his gaze narrowed.

“Cause I figured out why ya wouldn’t bite me.” He explained, not moving from his spot. “Too many people around ya, all the damn time! No way to getcha alone back at school, so...” his arms fanned out as if displaying the cave, “ta-da! Nobody’s gonna interrupt us here!”

“You... want me to bite you?” You asked, confused, watching his proud expression blink into blank.

“Yeah?”

“...Why?”

He blinked a few more times before propping himself up on his elbows to look at you better. You could see him a little better now, he almost looked offended.

“What’dya mean why?” He asked, hostility creeping into his tone as he leaned over the edge of the overhang. “Do ya not wanna bite me?”

You paused, trying to search your memory for any clue as to what he would be talking about and coming up blank. “Why would I?” Is what came out after a moment.

His brows furrowed as he pushed off the overhang, swimming over to you. He circled you slowly, searching your expression with each pass as his tail fin got closer and closer to holding you in place. When he finally stopped, his tail was wrapped loosely around you, almost like a threat, as he looked you dead in the eyes. He looked upset, confused... hurt?

“Why wouldn’t you?” He asked back with an angry pout. “Ya fixed my earring, didn’tcha? I didn’t even ask, ya just did it.”

You blinked rapidly at the whiplash, getting even more confused. “What does that have to do with anything?”

His confused expression matched yours now, less upset than before as he moved in closer, examining your eyes for a moment before pulling back again and furrowed his brows like he was about to crack the code. Before you could ask any of the hundred questions dancing around your head, he popped the top button on your shirt and yanked your collar aside to see the bite mark. He met your eyes again, pointing at the mark.

“What is this?” It sounded more like he was explaining shapes to a toddler.

“That’s where you bit me.” You snapped, swatting his hand away only for him to lean in closer, tail tightening around you.

“What does it mean?”

You gave him another confused look as he stared you down steadily. Your eyes drifted away for a second as you thought about it, shaking your head as you met his eyes. “You said it was to say thank you? Helluva thanks, by the way, shit hurts.”

He looked confused again, searching your expression for any hint that you were messing around. Finding none, he narrowed his eyes at you for a second before smiling and tilting his head to the side.

“Shrimpy doesn’t know what the bite means~” He teased, tail squeezing you a bit tighter before letting go as he resumed his lazy circles around you. “Betcha didn’t know what fixin’ my earring meant either, huh? Oh shit, you probably didn’t know about our dance either!”

“What is happening right now...?” You sighed heavily, catching his eye every time he floated into your vision.

On one of his passes he scooped you up, moving to sit on the rock himself and placing you in his lap, one leg on either side of his tail. He grabbed you by the chin, tilting your head to the side to examine the bite closer as he laughed.

“That day in front of the museum,” he started quietly, close to your ear, “when I grabbed ya and threw ya outta the water... you remember?” You nodded slowly, feeling him smile against your jaw. “You thought it was fun, I thought that was real cute. That spinnin’ that I did was flirtin’, I was dancin' with ya.”

“What--?”

“So’s all the little things I getcha...” His hands moved down to your waist, ignoring the question he’d interrupted. “I was gettin’ pretty confused why you weren’t get me anything, til you fixed my earring...” He turned his head, lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “See, jewelry’s real important for us merfolk. Gettin’ jewelry usually means a lot, means ya really care if you’re outside the family. Like ya wanna stick around. I thought it was real weird that ya used my own earring, but yer also poor. I thought that was your way of sayin’ ya wanted to stick around...” You glanced at his earring, surprised Floyd of all people had put so much meaning behind what you thought was just a kind gesture. Different cultures, you supposed. He nipped at your ear as you tried to turn to look at him, a warning to stay where you were. “S’why I bit ya... Means you’re mine.” His fingers tightened on your waist. “Thought that’s whatcha meant when ya fixed it...”

Your heart pitched at the sad tone in his voice. You knew the two of you had been flirting, turns out you didn’t know just how extensively. Your fingers flexed at his shoulders as he leaned the side of his head against yours, staring at the bite mark. What’s a bite, anyways? It got you where you ultimately wanted, which was dating Floyd. You sighed heavily, before leaning forward, and biting down as hard as you could on the same place he’d put yours. You heard his breath hitch before he broke into laughter, and you didn’t stop until you tasted blood mixed with the salt water. When he started to bleed, he tugged at your hair, pulling you off him. He looked delighted as he met your eye, tail fin snaking up behind you and wrapping around your waist.

“Aww, Shrimpyy~” He cooed, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“Coulda just told me that’s what that was about.” You scoffed, gently rubbing the area around the wound you’d created.

He shrugged, rubbing his nose against yours as he pulled you tighter against his chest. “No backin’ out now~” He teased.

You rolled your eyes, about to quip back when he pulled you the rest of the way in, closing the distance. His lips were a lot softer than you expected as they moved against yours, sharp teeth nipping against your bottom lip when he grinned into the kiss. He tried to follow when you backed off, needing air, until he saw your hand fly to your neck. You needed air. He barely got out an “oh shit” as he unraveled his tail before he took off with you in his arms, speeding out of the cave and shooting up towards the surface. Once you broke the surface, he gave you a second to catch your breath.

"I didn't grab another potion." He laughed. "How long can you hold your breath?"

You rolled your eyes again, pulling him into another quick kiss. Quick turned sour as Floyd pulled you in, and you had a feeling there would be no such thing as a quick kiss with him.

::

“Ah, there you are, Yuu!” Jade called out as he approached you in the hallway, a delighted smile on his face.

“Hey Jade, what’s up?” You asked, ignoring how your friends shuffled off to the side to avoid Jade’s attention.

“I just wanted to be the first to congratulate you on your nuptials.” He beamed down at you.

“My what?”

“I was surprised when Floyd told me, of course,” he continued, ignoring your question, “it all happened very fast, and the two of you are so young, but isn’t that just the way of things?”

You looked desperately to your friends, Ace and Epel snickering and muttering to each other, Deuce looked shocked, and Jack was just shaking his head. There was no help to be found from any of them.

“Our mother is asking after you,” he kept going, making your head spin as you tried to process the information, “and I’m sure our father would also like to meet his new child-in-law--”

“Child-in-law?” You squeaked out.

“--so we will need to make arrangements for introductions.” He paused for a moment, tapping a knuckle against his chin as he thought. “The two of you have stirred up quite a fuss, I’m sure Mother will want to make plans for a more formal affair... We’ll have to see about getting a row boat...”

“Why do we need a boat?”

“Oi!” You didn’t have time to turn towards the voice before a notebook sailed over your head, smacking Jade square in the face. When it dropped, so did Jade’s serious expression, now sporting the usual mischievous grin that he had whenever he was messing with someone. Floyd came up beside you, resting an elbow on your shoulder as he did, glaring at his brother. “I just got ‘em hooked, don’t be all weird and scare ‘em off.”

“What, I can’t tease them anymore now that they’re my sibling-in-law?” Jade drawled.

“Least wait til I get Ma on board.” Floyd grumbled before stooping down and tossing you over his shoulder.

“Floyd, what does he mean “nuptials?”” You asked quickly, Ace and Epel cackling at your expense as he carried you off. “What does he mean “in-law?””

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORKS TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[vandnana]

The Time Capsule

Chapter 1: War-Time Lovers

pairing: bucky barnes x female 1940’s bombshell! reader

°

summary: bucky left his heart in 1945 with you, the only girl he ever really loved. a letter you left has him believing you’re dead, but the reality?

you were captured by hydra and made into a super soldier that never went to war—kept frozen for a future era of terror. years after hydra fell, valentina discovered you in her research to creating a new superhero.

in a last ditch effort, valentina’s team of scientists used your blood to make a new serum on bob, their latest subject. but, when it seemed that bob didn’t withstand the experiment, she left you and him in the vault to burn with the rest of the evidence.

you woke up disoriented in a completely different world, saved by a team of antiheroes with no idea that the love of your life was still alive.

°

genre: fluff, angst (implied smut) 18+ mdni

word count: 8,542

highlights: jealous! bucky, howard stark having the fattest crush on reader, peggy and reader girl friendship :)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: this can be a stand alone but I am not normal and wrote so much that this ended up being a Bucky series (look forward to the other parts!)

…this is the first ever Bucky fic I’ve made! I know I mainly write for avatar (new chapters coming!) but I really had to make this fic cause I got a surge of an idea.

so sorry for any typos as well! I was just writing and writing and got so excited

Circa. 1943

You had escaped your stuffy life in the upper east side of Manhattan to join the efforts against Germany and actually go make a difference in the world.

But the only way that you could find a way to fight was to become one of Captain America's backup dancers during his morale shows. You had performed in a couple of those shows before you snuck away when no one was looking, disguising yourself in uniform and posing as a soldier for as long as you could.

When it finally came out that you were a woman, it sure as hell wasn’t enough that you were on the same team as Captain America, especially to Colonel Philips. It was under his call that you were asked to leave until Howard Stark stepped in. He compromised with Philips by giving you a position in his office with Peggy, confident that you would help the war effort. Truthfully though, he was just taken by you and he would have simply despaired sending a woman as beautiful as you back to New York.

You had become good friends with Peggy, Stark, and Steve, but you had become closest to Steve. He had reminded you of your brother that you had at home— the same kindness in his heart and the same fighting spirit. You were protective of him, despite the fact that the super serum made him tower over you.

So, naturally on the day that Steve was going on a rogue rescue mission to save his friend, you insisted on coming, promising Steve you would stay with Peggy in the plane.

"Miss Y/n Y/l/n, if it's not too much trouble, I thought we could stop off in Lucerne for a late-night fondue." Stark flirted from the cockpit.

You looked over at Peggy and Steve, their eyes expectant as they waited for your response. Clearing your throat, you lied with a smile, "Yeah, that sounds great."

"It's a date, then!" He replied, satisfied as he smirked to himself.

You didn't say anything, scrunching your nose as you looked to the side. Only Peggy seemed to notice, chuckling with an amused expression. Steve, though, was clueless, his thoughts surface-level as he let out a sigh of relief that Howard was flirting with you and not Peggy.

She turned her attention over to Steve, describing how to use the transponder so he could activate it when he was ready. You listened carefully before bullets began to ricochet off the plane's exterior, multiple gun blasts sounding in your ears making you stand up immediately with your ears covered.

Steve stood up too, his sense of urgency heightened as he quickly opened the hatch.

"Get back here! We're taking you all the way in!" Peggy yelled out against the winds and gunfire.

"As soon as I'm clear, you turn this thing around and get the hell out of here!" Steve commanded at her, her eyebrows raising.

"Hey, Stark!" You put your hands around your mouth to project, and even as he dodged the bullets, he was still able to respond to you.

"Yes, beautiful?”

You looked down at Steve who was getting ready to jump and without warning you grabbed onto the strap on his back as you replied, "I'll have to take a raincheck on that fondue!"

Peggy attempted to grab you but Steve jumped before he realized you were attached to him, the two of you falling toward the ground at incredible speed. Once you finally hit the ground, Steve broke your fall and you got up from the ground with him scolding at you in a whispered tone, "What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm your backup! Now, hurry up. We have people to save." You said to him confidently, running toward the hydra base already.

Sneaking past the armed guards, you and Steve had no problem getting inside. You were in horrified awe looking at everything, the technology unlike anything you had ever seen before—weapons and artillery that glowed a bright blue color. You put a few of the small canisters in your pocket, figuring Stark would know what they were with his brilliance before moving on toward the prison cell blocks.

Disarming more guards, you startled the soldiers below who looked at you in shock, their faces all riddled with same expression as one of them asked, "Who are you?" as Steve stood over their cells.

"I'm Captain America."

Steve threw down the keys that were in the guard's pockets and you caught them, unlocking each of the cell doors and letting them all out.

You were so caught up in the mission, you hadn't realized how baffling your presence was to the men as they stared at you in awe, one of them commenting, "You're a...woman."

"Right, a woman that just saved your ass." You said snarkily.

“Language.” Steve scolded you, his eyes frantic as he looked for his friend.

You rolled your eyes at him, ignoring what he said as you instructed, "Go look for him, Steve. I'll make sure you have a clear way out of here!"

Steve shook his head at you, putting his hands on your shoulders, refusing instantly, "No, you go with them and you run like hell."

There was no point in arguing with him, conceding as you saluted, "Yes, Cap. You got it."

With your confirmation, Steve ran the other way, and you went with the others, starting off running with everyone, but turning back toward the corridor Steve had went into.

The explosions began when you got closer to where you had left Steve, the entire bottom of the base going up in flames. You were running as fast as you could, only catching up to Steve when you saw him duck into one of the rooms.

You meant to follow him inside, but the shadow of a figure caught your eye, the short man wearing a trench coat, a briefcase, and a hat. You fixated on that briefcase, whatever unholy hydra plans in there possibly helpful in defeating hydra once and for all. Running as fast as you could, you shot at the man as you ran, making him move quicker in haste across the long hallway.

When he finally stopped you had a clear shot, until another man stepped out from an elevator, his face sinister as he turned to let the man you were chasing into the elevator, gun in his hand as he said to you simply, "Consider this a mercy."

Pointing it at you, you had no time to react as he shot you, only barely missing your heart as you managed to dodge it just enough for it to land in the flesh between your collarbone and your shoulder.

The impact sent you down to the ground, pain seeping through the wound as blood spilled out. Cursing, you took off your outer coat, ripping up your shirt underneath and tying the wound as tight as you could and as quickly as possible. Getting up, you held onto your coat, the material bunched up in your hands as you ran to the elevator.

Pressing the button underneath the highest one, you figured it would give you a good vantage point to call out to Steve since the entire base was burning from the ground up.

Breathing heavily, you were collecting your strength as you leaned against the wall of the elevator and once the doors finally opened, you trudged out, eyes searching everywhere as you yelled, "Steve!"

You saw movement two stories down, and even from that far, you saw disappointment and worry on his face as he yelled out, "I told you to get the hell out of here!"

"You really think I'd leave you here? Hurry up! You can use this beam to get across!" They followed the gesture of your hands, quickly running up the stairs.

Leaning against the railing, you gulped, watching the world around you burning, the heat rising and rising, sweat dripping from your forehead.

Up ahead, you watched as Steve's friend went first, balancing carefully on the beam that rocked slightly with every step. When the end of the beam on your side began to drop lower with his weight, your eyes widened and instantly you reached out, "Take my hand!"

He almost lost his balance, blinking at you, his eyes adjusting to take in your appearance. It didn't matter that your hair was all over the place, that sweat ws beading around your forehead or that you had blood and dirt smeared on your shirt. For that split second, his breath hitched at the sight of you, simply enamored, before he ran forward, hand extended as he jumped up from the beam just in time before it fell.

Despite the pain in your shoulder, you used all your strength to help pull him up and over the railing. When he was over, he fell onto you and you caught him, your arms around his back as you stabilized your feet. Time felt as if it slowed when you pulled your face back, your eyes locked on each other in that moment. You were asking if he was alright as you trailed your hands around him, his hunched position when he first started walking on the beam concerning you. But with every fleeting touch of yours, you were unknowingly stamping yourself on him, the feel of you creating a longing inside of Bucky that he never knew was possible.

Once he nodded, speechless, you were back at the railing and looking at Steve across the beam, "Just wait right there. We'll find a way to get you across." You watched as Steve looked down, doom looming over him as he shook his head.

"Go guys! Get out of here!" Steve urged, but right beside you, his friend countered him.

His friend was right beside you now, smacking on the railing, he was angry, determined as he yelled out, "No! Not without you!"

"Come on, Captain America! Get a running start and jump!" You weren't sure if it would work or if it was even a good idea, but it was the only thing you could think of.

Bending the railing, Steve heeded your order, stepping back and with a big breath he sprinted forward, jumping into the air, fire and flame all around him.

You couldn't peel your eyes away as you watched him leap, but at the last minute, you turned away, not wanting to watch your fear unravel in front of you.

The clunk of metal though made you face forward again, Steve's body wobbling forward and you let out a sigh of relief as you draped an arm around him, and even included his friend into your embrace, "We're home free now."

Walking back to the home base, you had argued with Steve for over five minutes about how you were fine to walk and that you didn't need to be in the tank with the rest of the injured men.

He didn't win the argument in the end, conceding to you as you walked proudly next to him. But, he did take away the gun that you were carrying so you could wear a sling.

His friend matched your pace, remaining close to you, his eyes both patrolling his surroundings, but also somehow always finding their way back to you. It wasn't hard for you to notice and you smiled to yourself, the grin that he kept on his face endearing to you.

"Do you have a name or are you just gonna keep staring?" You asked him, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him from the side.

"Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes," His tone uplifted at your question, eyes glinted with excitement at your boldness, "And your name is...?"

"Y/n Y/l/n. Just y/n is fine. No need for any titles." You introduced yourself, the warmth of your voice radiating through the air.

"Just y/n, huh? The people I'm close with call me Bucky." He added.

"Ah, is that your aim then, Sergeant? To get close to me?" You teased, grinning.

"No need for any titles." He repeated, chuckling at your answer,but his eyes were determined and seductive, passion enthralled in his response, "I mean you've already offered your hand to me, so I think it's only right."

You hated to admit how he was getting under your skin with his charm, the way he was talking setting a fire deep within you, making your heart pump faster than usual.

Reaching up, you put your hand up to his face, lightly tapping it as you cheekily replied, "You better watch it. You really shouldn't bite off more than you can chew there, Barnes."

Turning to the side, you gazed up at Steve, who was pretending that he wasn't eavesdropping on your conversation. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you spoke, "I'm going to check in with everyone, see if they need anything."

Bucky watched you leave, even the sight of you walking away was breathtaking to him. And when you were finally out of sight, he put an arm around Steve, elation blooming in the way he beamed over you, "She's an actual angel that came down from heaven. Where did you find her, Steve? And what's she doing hanging with you?"

Steve shrugged, used to Bucky's jokes and his usual gushing about women, "She snuck into the infantry, if you really have to know. She's a good woman, Buck and I think she's spoken for."

"She is spoken for...by me, pal. I'm marrying that girl." Bucky said, unbothered.

"You say that about every girl." Shaking his head, Steve laughed, "She's a real tough cookie to crack, Buck. I don't know if you can handle it."

"Come on, have you met me?" Bucky scoffed, confidence oozing out, "I'm telling you, I'm marrying her."

-

Once you arrived at camp, you were greeted with a surprisingly warm welcome by Colonel Philips, his shock and awe by Steve's rescue mission finally giving credibility to the idea of Captain America being more than just a symbol.

Peggy kept her composure looking at Steve, her eyes once concerned washing over with relief at seeing him in one piece. She extended that concern to you as she took your hand, her face dropping when she saw you in a sling.

She escorted you to the medic tent, the others who were injured following after you. Bucky's eyes only left you when he shouted out "Let's hear it for Captain America!" for Steve, the gesture touching your heart.

Peggy was calling your name, but you didn't hear her at all, staring a little longer than you thought, hanging onto Bucky's every move as he patted his friend's back enthusiastically.

Only when she tapped your shoulder did you finally grant her your eye contact and her lips pursed as she playfully taunted, "Never have I seen you be so enamored with a man this entire time I've known you. And, we are always surrounded by them."

"You can't tell me he isn't handsome." You shrugged your shoulders, wincing slightly as you held onto your wound, forgetting about it for the moment.

Your carelessness made her chuckle as she motioned for you to keep following her, "He's not really my type of man."

You took an opportunity to tease her back, smiling to yourself from behind her, "Oh right, you like the blonde ones. I forgot." She sent you quick glare, and satisfied you only gave her an innocent expression.

-

The next night, celebration was in order for all the men in the infantry, all of them filing out of their barracks in their proper uniforms toward the pub on the other side of camp.

It was you who had convinced Peggy to wear her red dress to the pub because although she only planned to be there for a second to talk to Steve, you knew how much she really liked him, and you were certain of her effect on him too.

You had your own evening gown to put on too, an unexpected gift from Howard Stark, which you would have kindly refused if he didn't so adamantly insist that he wouldn't take it back. You were even deadset on wearing a uniform just like the rest of the soldiers, but Peggy begged you to dress up, saying that Stark's gift would be wasted. When you finally agreed, she helped you get ready, pinning up your hair and finished your makeup before the two of you walked over to the pub.

The night air was chilly, but it didn't bother you as you walked, one foot in front of the other with careful precision, just like you were taught in your debutante school when you were a teenager. Pushing the door open, you let Peggy walk through the door first, the lively tunes of the piano once boisterous, halting suddenly as the pianist slowed his fingers, jaw hung open as he ogled the two of you.

Silence filled the pub as the soldiers' eyes were fixated on you. You recognized some of the men you rescued from the hydra base, making your way over to them and joking, "Glad to see you guys are alive and well enough to drink your fill."

The one with the bowler hat and mustache nodded, tipping his hat then lifting his cup to you, "Thanks to you and our Captain America over there! Forgive me for being so bold with you, Miss. You're no able grable, but a fine woman indeed. We here at this table all agree. Cheers to you."

Nodding at them, you looked at each of them gratefully and they drank their beers in honor of you, clinking them loudly as the foam spilt over the sides. Turning the corridor, you saw Peggy already with Steve. You intended to give them more time, but she was already turning toward the exit.

"You're leaving already?" You asked, "You should stay for a dance."

"I can't." Then, looking past you, she smiled, "But you can. And it looks like you already have a dance partner."

Following her eye line, ahead you saw Bucky, hands in his pockets and that same smile from before donned on his lips. He had anticipated your arrival, his head constantly peering toward the entrance every chance he got before you came.

"Good luck." Peggy whispered into your ear, winking.

Peggy left you in the center of the room, the soldiers all still with their eyes lingering on your figure. Bucky was leaning against the frame of the walkway, his gaze full of adoration with every step you took toward him.

You were almost within arm's length of him when you were interrupted by Stark's familiar voice behind you, his usual charm lacing it, "I almost didn't recognize you without your uniform on, Miss y/l/n."

Stark pivoted to your front, blocking Bucky's view as he admired the dress on you, "I do know how to pick an evening gown, don't I?"

"I'm surprised to see you here. Aren't you a little busy decoding that blue stuff from the hydra base?" You jabbed at him, ignoring his flirtatious advances.

"Not too busy to reschedule our fondue." He leaned forward suggestively, "What do you say?"

You caught Bucky's eye, his gaze never leaving you and his stance still against the doorway. Seeing him still waiting there, your heart softened and you smiled at him, "Sorry Stark. I would but—"

"But, I owe her a dance." Bucky was quick to walk over when he heard your apology, finishing your sentence as he boldly spoke for you.

Stark looked up at Bucky, puzzled before he recognized him, putting a hand out, "Ah, Sergeant Barnes, is it? Glad to see you're alive."

"I've got Steve and y/n here to thank for that." Taking Stark's hand, Bucky shook it firmly before letting it go and extending his hand to you, "Shall we?"

You looked over at Stark, who felt instantly challenged by Bucky's gesture, the two of them suddenly glaring at one another.

"Thank you for the gown." You kissed him on the cheek, and he hung onto that lingering touch as he ghosted where your lips had been.

Finally, you took Bucky's hand and he clasped your fingers together leading you to the area where people were dancing. You saw Steve sitting at the bar, waving at him as he held his drink high as if he was toasting to you.

You pulled Bucky back toward the bar, insistent on getting a drink first. When the bartender turned around, he almost dropped the glass he was wiping with the rag, jaw hung open as he adjusted the tip of his hat, "What can I get for you, miss?"

"Whiskey will do. Thank you sir. How much?" You asked, pulling out your purse, which Bucky put down for you, already placing money on the counter.

"You're on my dime tonight." Bucky insisted as the man began to pour your drink.

Steve scoffed, "How come you didn't buy my drink?"

"You're not a beautiful woman, Steve," He gave you a dazzling smile, eyes beaming at you, "And a beautiful woman should never have to pay."

"Is that so?" You replied, leaning over the counter and batting your eyelashes at the bartender, "Do you agree, sir?"

"Uh, well, yes, miss!" The glass was almost overflowing as he stood flustered by you, "This one's on the house!"

Flashing him a smile, you winked, "Thank you kindly."

Downing it all in one go, Bucky and Steve looked at one another, Steve's eyes widened, but Bucky's seeped with intense ardor. Once you finished, you slid the glass back toward the bartender, who tipped his hat again to you.

Then, meeting Bucky's eyes, you trailed your hand down his arm and hooked your fingers around his, "I guess you were right, Barnes."

In the middle of the dancing area, Bucky wasted no time in gently pulling you close, minding your injury as he placed your hand on his lower waist. The piano player, who had once played an upbeat tune, slowed his tempo down, the song's natural romantic nature creating an air of intimacy around you and Bucky.

You rested the other hand on his shoulder, but instead of his attention fixed on you, they were on the bartender. Lifting your hand to his chin, you coaxed his focus back to your face, teasing him curiously, "You've got a real sour face on for someone who wanted to dance."

"So...what's with you and the fondue guy?" He was itching to know more than he cared to admit, the sight of you kissing another man's cheek igniting a territorial urge he didn't know he was capable of.

"I didn't take you for a jealous man, Barnes. What got you exactly?" You laughed and seeing that, he instantly surrendered his seriousness, lips pulling upward with joy while you cheekily replied.

"I'm not jealous," He sucked on his teeth, scoffing a little at your response, "See, you actually did me a favor at the bar."

"Did I?" You said with surprise, raising your eyebrows eagerly.

"Yeah, you just saved me a couple more Italian lira to get you something real nice." He seemed proud of his answer, head tilted a little higher as he kept a smirk.

Challenging him, you spoke, "I'm used to the finer things in life, Barnes. Whatever you buy won't impress me."

"I find that hard to believe when you're wearing the dress that fondue guy gave you," Bucky playfully looked at you.

Looking down, you nodded, "I am wearing Stark's dress, yes. But, I'm dancing with you, and where you are is exactly where I want to be."

You expected another sly and quick reply from him but Bucky was at a loss for words, rendered speechless not just by your touch, but by your words. You taunted him amorously, "What's wrong, soldier? Do I need to give you a command to show a girl a good time?"

He gulped, suddenly feeling weak in his knees over you— all his senses centered around your entire being, "I'll do anything you want, doll. Just say the word."

Slowly, you closed the gap between you two, resting your head on his shoulder and interlacing your hand into his, "Good, now hold me close and we'll see where the night takes us."

Everything about you was warm, any worries and fears he had disappearing from his mind. The smell of roses were distinctly yours now, your perfume permeating through his nose pleasantly and without thinking, he leaned into you a little closer, the feel of your hair soft underneath his chin. You were humming quietly with the piano too, and he decided then that the piano was too loud, too disruptive against your melodic voice.

Savoring the moment, he squeezed your hand lightly, the gesture necessary as he wondered whether or not he was dreaming. In response to him, you tilted your head back to regard his eyes, and almost instantly he looked down at your lips that were softly parted, the cherry red calling his name.

Gulping, Bucky held back the temptation, the tension in the air almost suffocating him while you stared, curious what he would do. He tried his best to abate wanting to kiss you, but your lips were beckoning him and leaning in he surrendered vulnerably, connecting his lips with yours.

Realization hit him deep as you kissed him back, your hands once on his back trailing to the back of his neck with a tender fervor. He knew he was a ladies' man, the worst kind too—the kind who'd have a different girl on his arm every week. Yet, he found his match in you. For the first time, he was actually scared of losing a girl, and he'd be damned if it was to another man.

Separating your lips from his, he stared at you breathless and longingly, as if your face held all the answers in the world, everything about you already embedded into the inner workings of his mind and the chambers of his heart.

He decided right then and there that he'd only ever want to be with you—to be the only man you ever held, ever kissed.

You yourself were taken by him too, and it felt odd to feel such a natural attraction to someone. You were courted by so many suitors back in New York, showered with gifts, wined and dined until the day was long, yet none of them had ever made you feel the way Bucky made you feel.

"You know, you looked beautiful today." Bucky let out, the words almost not coming out as a sudden nervousness bubbled in his stomach.

Bewildered, you squinted your eyes at him, "When?"

"When I was crossing that beam." He admitted, "Damn near almost fell off staring at you."

You ignored the feeling of your cheeks getting rosy, sighing, "I'm happy you're safe and sound."

Shrugging, he coolly responded, “Well, I had to make it to you. It would have been embarrassing to fall like that on our first date.”

Another laugh escaped your lips, “I don't think that rescue mission can be called a first date."

"What do you mean? It was perfect. You know, we held hands, I walked you home...I think that's standard date procedure." Bucky stated, pleading his case flippantly.

"Steve was also there, and we almost died too." You added, which made him laugh.

"So, it was memorable." Bucky argued, “We're both soldiers, doll. Battlefield or not, anywhere I go with you is a date."

Your cheeks were red now, but there was no point in hiding it anymore, his effect on you evident by your sudden silence. He was naturally alluring to you, but deeper than that, he saw you as a soldier, and it felt good to be recognized, to know that you were something more than a high-society woman from New York.

"I look forward to that next date, but for now, let's focus on this one." You replied, validating his advances happily.

You and Bucky danced together late into the night, and you would have been there the whole way through if the piano player didn't pass out in the middle of a song, his drunkenness getting the best of him. The other soldiers were also filing out of the pub too, some of them knocked out too, their heads on the tables or leaned back onto the chairs.

Bucky walked you back to your room in Stark's headquarters on the base, draping his jacket over you to shield you from the cold. The two of you walked in comfortable silence, but not entirely as you continued to hum the tunes from the pub.

When you got to your room, you gave him his jacket back as he leaned against the doorframe. Watching you walk in, you elected not to turn your light on, but rather light a few candles on your bedside table.

"You know, I was never really worried about the dress, doll." His tone short of indelicate as his voice deepened.

Spinning around, you walked over to him, leaning forward slightly as you played with his shirt collar, "And why's that, Barnes?"

The heat from the candles held no comparison to the passion imbued in the air, once embers igniting instantly into a flame as Bucky spoke, "I figured, you know, if you'll have me...I wouldn't keep you in that dress any longer than you needed to be."

"It was difficult to put on, just so many buttons," You were baiting him purposefully, drawing the moment out longer, your face just inches away from his.

"I have nimble fingers." Bucky blurted out a little too eagerly as his eyes shined with mischief but he kept a giddy smile.

Without thinking, you couldn't help the laugh that erupted, charmed by his sudden switch from sultry to silly. And realizing how he sounded, Bucky laughed along with you, scolding himself internally.

"That was—" He began, but you interrupted.

"Cute. That was cute." You said, and caressing his cheek adoringly you teased him again with a chaste kiss on his lips.

Bucky longed for more, the touch so light that he was aching inside when you pulled away, biting his bottom lip.

Giving him one last smile, your eyes crescent moons and your cheeks still rosy, you stepped backward into your room, grabbing the edge of the door, “Good night, Bucky.”

His ears perked up, but in his disbelief he tilted his head, “You just called me Bucky.”

“Oh, do you prefer Barnes? Because I’ll happily—“

He put a finger to your lips, shaking his head, “No, no, doll, keep calling me Bucky…please.”

Again, you chuckled, moving his fingers over and holding them, “I’ll see you tomorrow Bucky. Now, go get some sleep.”

“Impossible, y/n. I’ll be thinking about you all night.” Bucky was dragging out the moment too, head downcast and staring at your fingers, still intertwined together, neither of you wanting to let go.

You looked behind you, the candles setting the mood already and biting your lip, you sighed, "The barracks are pretty far from here.”

Slowly, you led him forward and with no hesitation, he walked toward you, out of the doorframe and to the center of your room. The candlelight cascaded onto you guys, the two of you so close, your shadows had become one.

Boldly, he twirled you around, his chest facing your back as he adored you from your left side, his breath sending a chill down your spine as he whispered in your ear, "You did order me to show a girl a good time. I have to make good on that promise."

"You already have," You were beaming, eyes locked and your hand in his hair, your voice slightly raspy from the whiskey you were drinking earlier.

"Well, I'm an overachiever." He kissed your cheek softly, his stubble tickling you.

You placed your hands on top of his where they rested on your waist, "Then, what are you waiting for? This dress isn't gonna take itself off."

-

You woke up to a knock on the door, the first one gentle at first then the second one jolting you awake. You blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. The candles you lit were on your bedside table, wax spilled past their holders, long burnt out. Then, you felt a tug at your side, an arm pulling you closer and a deep groan begging your attention as you looked to your side.

He was also woken up by the knock, but it hardly mattered when he was waking up next to you, your bodies still entangled with one another.

"Morning, doll." He greeted, raspiness coating his voice, his tone echoing the way he spoke to you last night, his adoration declared while he was on top of you, matching every word with his amorous movements.

"Y/n! Are you alright? We have a briefing to get to in fifteen minutes!" You heard Peggy yell on the other side of the door.

You left Bucky alone on the bed as you hastily got up and in a rush, you quickly put his pants on and his jacket to cover your naked body. When you got to the door, you only opened the door a sliver to hide Bucky, then smoothing your hair out, you replied to her with a smile, "I-I'm fine. I just didn't get a lot of sleep last night so I woke up late."

She paused, taking in your appearance, her eyebrows raised when she noticed the stripes on the sleeves, the symbol not at all reflecting your military rank, "Ah, have you always had that jacket, y/n? I didn't know you changed ranks. Although, I've always known you've had a little sergeant in you."

Bucky was listening to your conversation, holding in a chuckle from Peggy's comment.

You were certain you were bright red, but you brushed her off, "Oh, this? I borrowed it last night. It was quite cold when I left the pub." You lied, scratching the back of your head.

She smiled at you, amused, "Okay, well, I don't want you to be late. So, hurry, please," She backed away from the door, but just as she was about to turn away she called out, "And that goes for you too, Sergeant Barnes."

Shutting the door, you put your head against it for a second, not wanting to look at Bucky until he cleared his throat, joking with you, "As much as I love seeing you in my clothes, we have a briefing to get to."

You bit the inside of your cheek, scoffing as you took the jacket and pants off, you bare again making Bucky clutch his heart, "Or we can skip the briefing."

You walked over, clothes in your right hand as you leaned forward on the bed, teasing him as you ghosted your lips on his, "Just get dressed, you idiot," You whispered, throwing his clothes at him.

"Anything you want, doll." He smirked, hopping off the bed.

-

You barely made it to the briefing on time, slightly out of breath when you walked in, Bucky right behind you. Everyone was gathered around the large flat table in Stark's main office, all of their eyes on you when you walked in.

You took your place beside Peggy, who pinched your hand in acknowledgement underneath the table. You held in a wince, glaring at her, but she only gave you a mischievous grin. Stark willfully ignored the sight, continuing what he was saying as he pointed to the maps on the table. Steve, who had already caught on, assumed at first that it was another fleeting moment with another girl. Yet, it became painfully obvious that Bucky actually liked you when his best friend only looked at him for a moment before clinging to your side, taking his position on the opposite end of you.

And from that day on, you and him were practically inseparable, and in all the time that Steve had known his best friend, he never saw him so smitten with someone. Whenever you talked, Bucky's ears perked up and he gave you his full undivided attention. When you walked, Bucky was never far, usually next to you or a few paces behind. And when you were simply doing nothing, his eyes never left you and his smile was perpetual, cheeks lifted like he never got tired of doing it.

As a soldier and a sergeant, he wasn't allowed to stay outside of the barracks, but he broke the rules for you every chance he got, his place beside you in bed hardly ever empty.

And even in battle, it was easy for you and Bucky to be side by side, the two of you being sharpshooters. But on the occasion that you were on the ground with Steve, Bucky would hound him about keeping you safe, the idea of you ever being hurt unbearable even just in thought.

For two years, you remained that way.

Always together, never apart.

It was in the winter of 1945 when Bucky showed up with his hands behind his back while you were studying the maps of the weapons' bases. You and the Howling Commandos were making great headway disarming the hydra bases, but there were still so many more to go.

The snow was falling above you in the tent, and he found it odd how you were positioned, your body still in the snow while you held the map underneath the tent.

"What are you doing, love?" He knelt down beside you, placing a gentle hand on your knee.

"Enjoying the snow, but I have to keep this map dry." You laughed, looking at him through snow-covered eyelashes, the white specks falling so beautifully in your hair, "I probably look like some sort of white witch with all this snow on me."

“Witch? You’re more radiant like the elves in the Hobbit.” He complimented, making you look up from the map.

You saw how contemplative his expression became when you made eye contact, and tilting your head, you asked, "Is something wrong?"

Bucky carefully took the map out of your hands, placing it on the ground. He was halfway in the snow now too, his hair getting covered while he gushed, "I've just been thinking. I can't imagine my life without you in it. You'll always be my doll, y/n."

Letting out a soft chuckle, you joked, "Always is a long, long time. Are you sure about that?"

"I'll bet my life on it." He replied confidently, reaching up to caress your hair, "And when we come back from all this, I'm marrying you."

"Is that right?" You took his hand into yours, kissing the inside of his palm, "And how are you so sure I'd say yes?"

Smirking, he lowered his eyes at you seductively, "Well, I figured you would since you didn't have any problems saying yes to me last night," He leaned in closer, inching toward your lips as he whispered softly, "Again and again and again..."

He connected his lips to yours and you smiled into it as he kissed you, every movement entrenched in deep affection as his hands pulled you closer to him.

Pulling away slightly, you put a hand on his cheek, your foreheads still touching and your voice almost breathless as you said aloud, "I love you, Bucky."

"I love you too," He breathed in, your words intoxicating him beyond what he could fathom, and reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small box, "I know you hate gifts, but I couldn't resist."

He popped the top open to reveal a ring, the stone sparkling in the snow, "I figured I can't marry you without a ring."

"Bucky, you didn't have to—"

He took it out of the box, taking your hand and putting it on your left hand, "And before you start yelling at me, I didn't buy it, I made it."

You gasped, smiling widely, "You made this?"

"With my own hands." He stated proudly.

"How—" Speechless for a moment, you held your hand up, admiring the details, your heart warmed by the thought of Bucky working so hard to make it for you.

"I told you I have nimble fingers." Shrugging, his nonchalance made you laugh again and you threw your arms around him.

"You really did this for me?" Through German trenches and hydra-infested bases, you had been through so much together, you knew him inside and out and yet, you were still shocked at how he could still surprise you.

"I'm in it for a lifetime, doll. So, what do you want to do for our wedding? A horse-drawn carriage? Roses down the aisle?" Bucky's love outpoured with his words and you kissed him again.

Shaking your head, "I have something else in mind."

You stood, taking his hands into his as he asked eagerly, "What do you mean?"

Leading him, you kept your eyes peeled ahead, "Steve's a captain right? Can't he just marry us? I don't think I can wait any longer to be called Mrs. Barnes."

"I haven't heard a better idea all day." He agreed, and in his own excitement, he took the lead, running with you to find Steve.

You got married right on the base, Peggy and Stark being your witnesses while Steve officiated your wedding. There was no greater honor than being able to marry his best friend to the love of his life, and having not made a move with Peggy yet, he felt more encouraged, the romance in the air intoxicating.

Stark, who still had quite the chip on his shoulder about you, was still happy nonetheless, having grown fond of Bucky since he met him.

Still, he teased you flirtatiously after your ceremony, not at all caring that Bucky was beside you as he said, "It's a shame to see you married off, but I'll be sure to tell my future son that you were supposed to be their mother."

You rolled your eyes at him, but joked back, "And when I name my son after you Howard, he'll know you as the man that could never take a hint."

"My love, I did not agree to that." Bucky protested, and making eye contact with Steve, he yelled out, "Our son's gonna be named Steve Barnes! No exceptions."

"And what if you have a daughter?" Peggy asked, her hands clasped together before she wrapped her arms around your shoulders in a tight embrace.

"Margaret, of course, after my cherished friend." You leaned into her embrace, happiness bubbling inside of you.

Steve came over to Bucky, putting a hand on his shoulder proudly, "I think Steve could be a girl name too," His comment earning a laugh from everyone.

"All this baby talk..." He took your hand into his, tone suggestive as he boldly declared, "I'm thinking we should probably go make one then, right, love? It is our honeymoon, after all."

He mainly said it to to irritate Howard, who scrunched his nose at Bucky. Steve pressed his lips into a thin line, putting his hands on his hips and shaking his head, but Peggy thought it was oddly endearing, her heart warmed by the passion he had for you.

"I wouldn't be surprised if little Steve is already in there, Bucky." You replied, scratching the back of your head, slightly embarrassed.

"Well, you can never be too sure." He said cheekily, peppering your face with kisses.

"Okay, okay." Steve said, putting his hands up, muttering under his breath, "You guys are like rabbits."

You glared at him, "I heard that, Steve."

-

That was the best day of your life.

It was the first day of forever with Bucky.

But what you didn't know?

Forever would only last a day.

You would have never thought that the last image of your love would be of him holding onto the metal bar on that moving train, your hand outstretched toward him just like the first day you met.

Yet, his hand never touched yours again, and he knew it too, his eyes, although struck with so much fear imbued with so much affection as he managed to tell you he loved you before the metal bar gave out.

The sight of him falling was surreal for you, and in your quickness to act, you were about to jump off the train too, but Steve held you back as you screamed and screamed for him to let you go.

When you got back to the base, you had nothing else on your mind except for Bucky. You couldn't shake the feeling that he was still alive, and you went with that gut feeling all the way.

The only person who knew about your plan was Stark, who had agreed to take his plane back to the mountains. He was the last person you would see in a long time, unbeknownst to you.

Over the mountains, you opened the hatch, looking down at the white abyss. Before you jumped, Stark grabbed your arm, asking you, "What if you don't find him?"

"I will." You replied brazenly, giving him one last kiss on the cheek, "Goodbye Stark. Just know that when you get married and have your son, he’ll change the world, just like you are right now."

With that, you disappeared into the snow.

And for a hundred more years, you became a piece of history, along with Steve, frozen in the ice, the remnants of the two of you kept alive in the minds of Peggy Carter and Howard Stark.

And when Steve was finally out of the ice, finally meeting the son of his old friend, he was surprised to hear your name out of his mouth so casually as he ate his blueberries, "Yeah, my hacking program is named y/n. Apparently she was supposed to be my mother. And man, was she a babe. I totally get where dad was coming from there."

In a funny way, it was meant to honor you. Stark had meant what he said when he told you he'd tell his kid about you, your name coming alive again when Tony was growing up. It was only right for him to know, your last words being about the kid that would grow up to change the world.

Howard never forgot that.

And in his final moments lying on the ground near his car, his wife shot and his life fading, he looked up at his assassinator only to find his lost friend.

"Sergeant Barnes?" He uttered in disbelief, but he was met with blank eyes and silence. And in a last attempt to awaken something familiar in his friend, he spoke your name, "Y/n, she looked for you in the mountains. Your wife."

But those words meant nothing to the Winter Soldier.

Yet, that memory was not lost on Bucky, trapped inside, forced to hear about your fate through the friend he had just murdered.

And when he finally was out of Hydra's grasp, his mind free of that control, his first instinct was to look for your grave.

He found it easily in upstate New York, your family's influence on the entire city marking fame and praise. Your name was engraved on an empty casket in your family mausoleum, and when he saw it, tracing his hands over it, he dropped to his knees, endless sobs escaping him.

And at night, when he’d lie awake, he would always turn his body to the side, arm outstretched to hug the pillow that he always placed beside him. He never did get used to sleeping alone after you.

But still, he couldn't shake that you were somehow alive, and on the day that Steve time travelled, coming back in his old age, Bucky approached him, "When you were back there, did you—"

"No," Steve shook his head, his hands in his pockets, "I didn't find her. But man, she loooved you, Buck."

Taking two pieces of paper out of his pocket, he handed one to Bucky, "She wrote this for you."

"You read it?" Bucky asked, offended.

"I peeked, okay? I had to make sure which one was mine." Steve defended himself.

Unraveling it, it read:

Dear Bucky,

You once told me that you could never imagine a life without me in it. And I could say that was the reason I went after you, so you wouldn't have to. But, honestly, a day didn't even pass after you fell and I felt like I was dying.

I realize I can't live without you. I had everything growing up. But, that's all nothing compared to what I have with you.

If you're reading this now, it means I never did find you. But it also means that you're alive, just like I knew you would be.

I would tell you to be happy, to marry someone else, and have a family.

But, if you do, I'll haunt you for the rest of your life.

I hope you don't mind that I gave Steve the ring you made me. I figured if he had one already, he couldn't use the excuse that he didn't have a ring to finally marry Peggy.

I love you, Bucky, I love you a whole lifetime's worth, even if we didn't get to live it out.

Love,

Your doll

Bucky, although he was struck with another wave of grief, tears welling in his eyes, he laughed, hearing your voice so clearly in his head as if you were saying everything out loud to him.

In his other pocket, Steve took out the same ring box that he had given you all those years ago, "I did end up getting a ring for Peggy. I'm offended, you know? Y/n, she always thought I was so hopeless."

"Hey," Taking the box from Steve, he opened it, remembering the day he gave it to you, the way you looked in the snow still so vivid in his mind, "That's my wife you're talking about."

Steve sighed, "There's a lot more life for you, Buck. If you wanted to move on, I don't think she'd really mind."

"I could, so she would haunt me and I'd finally see her again," Bucky joked, making Steve chuckle.

"But, honestly Steve, I'd rather see her when it's my time to go. She's worth the wait."

-

Author's Note:

Omg omg omg I kind of got carried away but I couldn't resist writing 1940's Bucky. I can't wait to write this next chapter where they see each other again but damn writing this ending actually lowkey had me tearing up

Please let me know what you thought of this chapter! Again, first time writing for Bucky and I had so much momentum after Thunderbolts I had to just get into writing IMMEDIATELY.

If you'd like to be in my taglist, tell me your fave part about the chapter and i'll add you!

Thank you to all my readers. I love you all!!

Love,

nana <3

[chrissv4mp]

68 + 46 + 37 ? 🥺 for normal billie

billie eilish 01...

⟶ 37. “you bought a vibrator?”

⟶ 46. “can i use a toy on you?”

⟶ 68. “can you stay quiet if i take this call?”

billie had been busy all day, running errands, taking shark and brutus out for their walks, answering calls, and so much more that you couldn't bother to keep track of anymore. when she finally walked into your shared room for the first time since this morning, you thought it'd the perfect time to finally give her a break.

"hey, ma," she greeted tiredly, kicking off her shoes and crawling onto the bed slowly. her hand cupped your cheek, lips meeting yours in a slow, gentle kiss.

you kissed her back happily, hands finding her hips and pulling her onto your lap completely. she chuckled in surprise, cocking an eyebrow in suspicion. she didn't have enough time to question you before you kissed her again, a little more desperate than before.

she smiled against your lips, pulling away just slightly to talk. you beat her to it. "can i use a toy on you?"

billie froze for a moment, swallowing in shock as she processed your words fully. she nodded once, subtly, before nodding again, the movement more eager than the first. you guided her off your lap before reaching into your bedside drawer and grabbing the toy. a small, light pink vibrator that you bought a week ago with billie in mind—her hands had been full the whole week, you just wanted to take her mind off everything.

"jus' relax for right now," you murmur, crawling back on the bed and pulling at the waistband of her sweatpants only to release and watch them snap against her skin.

she tugged them down along with her panties, a thin string of her arousal stretching between the fabric and her cunt before breaking off when she kicked them off her ankles. you finally brought the toy into her line of view, and billie bit her lip, smiling.

"you bought a vibrator?" she giggled quietly, but she was quickly cut off when you turned it on and pressed it to her clit.

the whimper that escaped her throat was music to your ears, your eyes trained on her body and the way her muscles relaxed when she finally succumbed to the pleasure and let herself take a break for once. her head fell back against the headboard when you ran it over her slit, jaw falling open and releasing moan after moan of your name and a string of curses. your lips curled into a pleased smile.

the moment was perfect, exactly what you imagined she needed—until a different vibration on the other bedside table startled the two of you. billie looked down at you, mouth opening to say something—but you moved to kiss her before the words could get out.

you pulled away, lips still brushing as you spoke. "i'll answer it." you murmur, pulling away and reaching for her phone. "can you stay quiet if i take this call?"

she nodded quickly, biting her lip to stifle her moans, eyes following you as you grabbed her phone and answered the call. it was one of her tour managers, probably calling to congratulate her on finishing it without going insane. billie could barely make out what you were saying with how hard she was trying to control the volume of her noises, but it was hard with the way you kept pressing the vibrator harder against her clit without even realizing. or maybe you did know.

"yeah," you say, eyes flicking to billie. "she forgot her phone here, probably noticed when she was halfway to the store and didn't wanna turn back, y'know?" you lie smoothly, watching as billie's chest rose and fell quickly.

her pussy clenched around nothing, the knot in her stomach so close to unraveling. you tried wrapping up the call quickly, dismissing the guy in the most polite way—but he wouldn't stop talking, and billie couldn't control herself anymore.

a high-pitched moan passed her lips as she came hard, thighs shaking and fists grabbing the sheets so hard her knuckles bled white.

"...okay, i gotta go."

⟶ tags. @mseilishmwah @sophloveswomen @mxqdii @livvydunneness @vyntagess @wiidfi0wer33 @loving1dsworld @tan1shere @fallingforfalll2 @cierraonline @dandelions4us @scarlittt @ifwdominicfike @slxtarchive @bilsdillldough @47lake @hopingforgoodblogs @mybluebossanova @strwberrybils @justtr @greenbttrflyy @billsbaby @bilsova @lottiepierce @northlndnisred @asterisk-eyes @dragoneyelashart @xxangelfarrlzxx @ilomiloblohshh @kittymarrow @meliciousmel13 @jul3esz @rightarion @svelish @hkkuugu @eeuni @dragoneyelashart @thinkshespretty @cnnibalize @canthelpit0 @hailwiggly @karaeilishh @bilswifee @drunkinyourbenz

[peonpeonpeonpeonpeon]

So Very

ׂ╰┈➤ summary: during the visits of NBC, you and malleus found yourselves bumped into an empty hall in NBC..

—. A/N: malleus xreader, reader is yuu, you guys kept staring at eachother so…. (TW: suggestive, this scenario came to mind from an art made by @/kansetsu001 on twt so credits to them pls!!)

word count: 1.2k

You had sneaked away from tonight’s ball, well, after Malleus’ and the other’s performance. It was fulfilling your boredom yes but you needed some fresh air and quietness within the halls of the school, and with the moon shooting its light through the colored stained glass, it made the atmosphere more peaceful than anything. Initially, you sneaked out the ball with Deuce, Epel and Grim, yet they weren’t with you right now because Deuce were caught with Riddle and who knows where Epel and Grim now. But still, being alone isn’t so bad.

As you enjoy your time on your own, you hear rings of bells, it wasn’t from the Bell of Salvation. Who could it be? You turned your head around and see Rollo Flamme, the antagonist of the previous night. Whom planted a dangerous plant all over Fleur City, especially in the Noble Bell college, and whom trapped you and your friends in that old sewerage. You scrunch up your nose, still conscious of his action hours earlier.

“No fret, Yuu. I guarantee you, I am not here to harm you.” Your brow lifts, saying that, after he had been a menace to his own school and city? “Not so similar hours earlier,”

“Why are you here, Flamme?” Rollo squints his eyelids. He is aware you are still on guard against him. He smirks, “Why? Am I scaring you? I am only here to check on the conditions of our late ball’s consumption. But, it seems like someone has left the party quite early.”

“Well, I needed to take a breather. Dancing is tiring, Flamme. Especially after your dramatic chaos.” You relax your face. Now acting normal but still aware of him. “You may see me as a foe, but I only wanted to say this, why do you have so very much faith in your, horned friend, Malleus Draconia?” Rollo inquired.

You bite the inside of your cheeks.

Malleus Draconia. Hearing that name will give everyone a chill down their spine, yet you always greet him as a friend. To must be a friend is to treat them as one, Professor Trein quoted, and you couldn’t agree more. You knew him since the early months of staying in Ramshackle. He never gave you his name at first but during the aftermath of Vil’s overblot, you discovered his name even has centuries of meaning.

The Crowned Fae Prince, The Housewarden of Diasomnia, every human being fears him, yet you dare to call him Hornton. Malleus also went along with the student exchange to Noble Bell College, a student of a prestigious school within a prestigious school, you remember his outstanding, traditional clothing of Fleur City matching his aura well. For Malleus, the clothes he wears never wore him, but he rather wears them. Your eyes fell to the floor, you will never admit it, but you have always been trying to steal glances at his outfit, the black feathers, unique embroidery on his gloves, and the hat he wears sitting perfectly with his horns, your cheeks warming up than it should’ve been. ‘Did everyone took notice of that?’ You thought and sighed. Finally replying Rollo’s question.

“Does it matter? I thought he is your opponent.” Rollo scoffed. But relaxes his mind.

“Very well, if you excuse me, I must be on the condition checking already.” He bowed his hair and you return the bow. You sigh again. Your fingers fidgeting with your drop earrings. You see your mask dangling down your hips, you had tied it there to never lose it in any circumstances. You untied the knot of the mask as you put them on again. The gold compliments the rest of your outfit’s color scheme; purple and black. As you begin to walk back to the ballroom, you accidentally bumped into someone from the corner of the hall.

“Ah, Child of Man, I’ve been looking for you everywhere.” That voice. You recognize that voice, rich and deep, definitely Hornton. Why is he here and, why is he looking for you? “Hornton! Scared me there, sorry, but why are you looking for me?” You asked and tilted your head up. Dark purple dewy lips, a face masked in black, pale skin and two bright green eyes, you could never take your gaze off of him.

“I apologize for my sudden appearance. Well, you see, I wanted to talk to you for a moment.” Your eyes widen, talk? Did you do something?!

“Don’t be afraid. I am only trying to understand you better. I wanted to ask you this,”

Something tells you it’s either gonna end up badly or more than something you needed..

“I have realized during our school’s activities at the Fleur City district, that you’ve come to notice my gaze upon you, and I am not a true prince if I do not ask this, but have you become uncomfortable with me?”

Your lips parted, the level of expressions heightened. ‘What do you mean I noticed?! I thought I was the only one staring at how gorgeous you are?!’ You thought. Malleus reads your expressions but still didn’t realize what you’re trying to deliver. He closes his eyes and frowned. “I have done it again, haven’t I.. I always took up on Lilia’s advice..” He mumbled.

‘LILIA’S ADVICE?! To keep staring at the person—wait, does this means—‘ Your thoughts was interrupted when your heart takes the lead, you grip his wrists and stared at his green eyes. Malleus’ whole body language was surprised, but finally taking your code well and sneaks up his gloved hand to the back of your head, and kissed you. Both of you close your eyes at the softness of each other’s lips. You’re glad he managed to read your mind, in desperation, you try to slip your tongue first in his mouth, but he fought back and entered yours first.

His slit tongue dominating. His eyes open, his slit pupils dilated at the warmth of your mouth. The kiss that was from a soft innocent kiss turned into a tongue fighting make out within seconds. Whenever you wanted to pull away for a breath, he always pulls you back in. Making you breathless but still melting you and weakening your legs. He pulls away, your lips and his painted with kiss marks of one another’s lip tint, he looks breathless for a fae dragon.

“In our both desires, do you wish to be taken tonight in my share of bed, dear Child of Man?” He bowed, his hand on his back and the other on his chest.

“I do, Hornton.” You smiled and link arm to arm with him.

Behind all of that scene, they were not alone that night in the hall. At the corner of the other side of the hall, Rollo Flamme, stands idly with a shocked face and his handkerchief to his mouth.

—.★

A/N: ty

[neonbonded]

Grovel, Pretty Boy.

♡ ft. love and deepspace men x reader ♡ cw: heartbreak, emotional damage, angst, miscommunication, rain-soaked apologies, slow-burn second chances

Xavier

You knew something was wrong when he stopped falling asleep beside you.

He’d always been quiet. Reserved. But this was different. This wasn’t shyness or stoicism. This was distance.

Nights on the couch instead of your bed. Missions he didn’t tell you about until he was already gone. Kisses that never quite landed. Hands that never lingered.

You asked once. Just once.

“Xavier… do you still want this? Do you still want me?”

He didn’t meet your eyes when he answered. Didn’t hesitate either.

“You’re better off without me.”

That was it. No explanation. No tears. Just a single, low sentence—delivered like a death sentence.

So you left.

You packed a bag. Took the key off your chain. Didn’t slam the door. Didn’t ask him to stop you.

And he didn’t.

The silence that followed was louder than any fight you’d ever had.

Xavier told himself it was right. That he was protecting you. That one day you’d thank him. But he didn’t sleep. Didn’t eat. Barely moved.

He left your toothbrush in the cup. Kept the extra pillow on the bed. Replayed your voice in his head like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet.

It wasn’t until he found your jacket—folded and forgotten on the back of the chair—that something in him cracked.

He sat on the floor of the apartment, holding it to his face, inhaling like it could bring you back.

He finally broke.

It’s been three weeks when he shows up at your door.

You hear the knock first—quiet, tentative. Then again, harder. Urgent. When you open it, he’s standing there—wet from the rain, hood down, eyes red like he hasn’t slept in days.

He doesn’t say anything at first.

Just looks at you like he’s seeing the sun for the first time after living underground.

“You look…” His voice fails. He shakes his head, swallows, tries again. “I was wrong.”

You don’t move.

“I thought letting you go would keep you safe. From me. From this life. From the way I mess everything up.”

You cross your arms, biting your lip.

“So why are you here?”

His throat works. His hands clench and unclench at his sides.

“Because you left. And I thought I could live with that. I thought I could survive knowing you were better off.”

“And?”

He takes a shaky breath.

“I can’t.”

“Xavier—”

“I don’t sleep. I can’t eat. I hear your voice every time I close my eyes. Every place I go reminds me of you. And I just—” His voice breaks. His knees hit the porch.

You step back instinctively, shocked. He stays kneeling, eyes wide, voice shaking:

“Please. I know I hurt you. I pushed you away. But don’t let me be right about losing you.”

“Don’t let that be the last thing I ever say to you.”

There’s silence. Only the rain. His breathing. Your heart pounding in your ears.

Then—your hand moves. Slowly. Carefully.

You reach out and touch his cheek. He leans into it like it’s the first warmth he’s felt in weeks.

“I’m not promising anything,” you whisper.

He nods.

“I know. I’ll earn it. Every day. As long as it takes.”

You open the door.

He doesn’t move until you say it—

“Come in.”

And he does.

Soaked. Shaking. Hopeful.

For the first time in weeks— Xavier smiles.

Zayne

It started slow—like all things with Zayne.

A few late nights at Akso Hospital. Then it became weekends. Then the messages got shorter. The kisses fewer. The promises thinner.

And you tried. God, you tried.

You made dinner and waited until it got cold. You left sweet notes in his lab coat pocket that he never mentioned. You curled up on the couch with takeout and a blanket, waiting for the sound of keys in the door—waiting to feel like a priority again.

But he never noticed how you stopped reaching out.

He thought your silence was peace. You thought his silence was neglect.

And when it finally broke—when you stood in the kitchen with tears in your eyes and said “I feel like I’m alone in this relationship”—he blinked at you like he didn’t understand the words.

“You know I’m working,” he said. “This is important.”

“And I’m not?”

You left two days later.

Zayne didn’t react at first.

He told himself you were being emotional. That you’d come back. That he didn’t have time for a personal crisis when three cardiac procedures were scheduled back-to-back.

But your side of the bed stayed cold. Your mug disappeared from the cabinet. Your toothbrush was gone.

The first thing that truly broke him?

A spoon.

He reached for the sugar in the morning, went to stir his coffee— and found your favorite spoon still in the drawer, tucked under the others.

The one with the tiny chip on the handle. The one you always used. And he stared at it like it was your ghost.

It takes him six days to gather the courage.

Six days of waking up with chest pain that has nothing to do with his heart. Six days of sitting in the apartment, surrounded by surgical journals and silence. Six days of not hearing your voice. Not seeing your face.

When he shows up at your door, it’s raining.

Of course it’s raining.

He’s in a gray coat. No umbrella. His glasses are fogged from the downpour, and his hair drips water onto his collar.

He looks like someone who hasn’t slept. Because he hasn’t.

You answer slowly, cautiously, wrapped in a sweater that isn’t his.

He stares at you like he’s never seen you before. Like you’re light and air and everything he thought he could live without—until you were gone.

“I need to say something,” he starts.

You don’t say anything. You don’t move.

“I know I didn’t show up for you,” he says, voice steady at first—but tight around the edges. “I know I wasn’t there when you needed me.”

“You were working. Like always.”

“No.” He swallows. “I was hiding.”

Your breath hitches. He sees it—but he keeps going.

“I told myself I could love you in the background. That my work was enough. That you’d understand.”

He looks away. Rain drips from his chin.

“But you cried alone. And I didn’t even notice.”

He finally lifts his eyes to yours.

“I let you carry everything. And I kept pretending I was too busy to see it. But I see it now.”

He steps closer. Not too close. Just enough that you can feel the weight of what he’s carrying.

“You don’t owe me anything,” he says quietly. “But if there’s any part of you that still wants to try… tell me how. Tell me where to start.”

Silence.

Only the rain and the sound of his voice, breaking open for the first time in forever.

And you—heart still tender, eyes burning—you take a step back.

He doesn’t follow.

Until you say:

“Come in. We talk. That’s all.”

He nods. Just once.

But his breath? It shakes. Like he just got handed a second chance and he’s terrified he’s going to break it again.

Rafayel

You always knew Rafayel had sharp edges.

They came hidden in sugar and sarcasm, tied up in flirtation and jokes. He kissed with a smile. He apologized with a wink. But every now and then, when he was tired or tangled in his own storms— he’d say something that cut too deep.

This time, he didn’t just nick the surface. He gutted you.

It started as a fight.

Something small. Something stupid.

You were frustrated—he’d missed another dinner, another gallery event. He brushed it off. You didn’t. It escalated.

“Do you even take me seriously?” you snapped.

He scoffed, deflecting like always. But this time you didn’t back down.

“Do I mean anything to you outside of your inspiration?”

That’s when his face changed.

A flicker of something dark crossed his eyes. And he said it.

“Maybe I was better off before you.”

The silence after was louder than the slam of the door.

You didn’t scream. You didn’t cry.

You just left.

He didn’t chase you.

Not at first.

He stood there in the middle of the studio, staring at the empty space you used to fill. At the unfinished canvas you were supposed to pose for. At the tea mug you left behind with your lipstick still on the rim.

And then it hit him.

What he said. What it meant. What he’d just destroyed with seven words and too much pride.

He tried to paint.

He couldn’t. His hands shook too hard.

So he drank instead. Paint-stained fingers trembling around a wine bottle, mouth twisted in self-loathing.

By the next morning, his studio was in shambles. Canvas slashed. Paint spilled like blood across the floor.

And in the center of it all? One still, untouched portrait of you.

It takes him four days.

Four days of pacing. Of rewriting texts. Of standing outside your apartment and turning back before knocking.

When he finally shows up?

It’s late. His clothes are wrinkled. His eyes bloodshot. His fingers still streaked with dried blue pigment.

He knocks once. Twice.

And when you open the door?

He falls silent.

He stares at you like he’s not sure you’re real. Like his memory never did you justice.

“Hey, cutie.”

His voice cracks on the word.

You stare at him. Quiet. Guarded.

“I shouldn’t have said it.”

Still, you don’t speak.

“I was angry. Scared. You cornered me and I panicked.”

“So you hurt me.” Your voice is soft. It kills him more than yelling would.

“I know.” He swallows. His hands twitch like he wants to reach for you, but doesn’t. “And I would take it back a million times if I could. I’d burn every canvas in that studio if it meant you’d look at me the way you used to.”

“Rafayel—”

“No.” His voice cracks. His mask slips. “I’ve spent four days trying to paint and all I see is you walking out. All I hear is your voice in the back of my mind telling me I crossed a line I can’t uncross.”

“I didn’t mean it. I’ve never meant anything less in my entire life. You’re not just my muse. You’re my home.”

There’s silence.

And then—

He reaches into his pocket.

A tiny, folded paper scrap. You recognize the sketch immediately. It’s you—from the last morning you spent curled in his bed.

It’s crumpled. Smudged. Like it’s been clutched in his hands over and over.

“I kept this,” he whispers. “I don’t know why. Maybe because I thought if I gave you this, you’d know I don’t want to forget. I just… want to start over.”

You reach for it. Slowly.

And he lets go. Hands shaking.

“Let me prove I’m worth one more brushstroke in your life.”

You stare at him. Your eyes sting.

“One condition,” you whisper.

He nods too fast.

“Anything.”

“You tell me next time. When it’s too much. When you’re scared. When you feel like you’re drowning.”

“I will,” he promises. “Just… don’t walk away from me again.”

You open the door wider.

“Then come inside. We start from page one.”

He steps inside like he’s never been more grateful in his life.

Sylus

You always knew there were things Sylus didn’t tell you.

You didn’t mind at first. He was powerful, dangerous—Onychinus’s leader, cloaked in shadows and whispers.

But you loved him. And he let you. In his way.

Slow touches. Bare confessions. Fingers brushing your jaw like they weren’t stained in blood. He never told you what his nights entailed. But you knew. You just didn’t know he was keeping you in those files.

You found the classified record by accident.

You were looking for a comm drive, trying to help organize his equipment for an upcoming drop. Instead?

You found your name in a dossier stamped with an Onychinus seal. Your file was red-level encrypted. And beneath the encryption: A full surveillance report.

Your work. Your location. Your medical records. Your passwords.

A protected asset tag.

Your hands shook.

You weren’t a partner. You were a risk to be monitored.

You didn’t confront him.

You left.

And Sylus? He came home to silence.

At first, he just stared at the empty apartment.

Then he saw the unlocked desk. The data drive pulled out.

The second he realized what you’d found, something in him snapped.

He didn’t rage. Didn’t shout.

He just… shut down.

For three days, no one saw him.

Onychinus command went dark. All orders rerouted. No public appearances. No messages returned.

The next time he walked into HQ, his eyes were dead and his voice was a loaded gun.

“Do not ask me where she is,” he said to his second-in-command, “unless you’re prepared to hear me break.”

It takes him a week.

A week of calling in every favor. Canceling every op. His pride long since discarded like a broken blade.

When he finds you?

You’re not at your apartment. Not at your safehouse.

You’re in a shitty little cafe near the old city walls. Neutral ground.

And when he steps inside, the whole room goes still.

Because Sylus—tall, sharp, all black coat and blood in his gaze—doesn’t belong here. But he’s not here to make a statement. He’s here for you.

Only you.

You don’t speak when he sits across from you.

You just look at him.

He looks tired. Worn. Haunted.

“I know what you found,” he says first. His voice is low. Controlled. “I know what it looked like.”

You don’t move. Don’t blink.

“It looked like I was never yours,” you say. “Like I was a project. A file. A threat.”

He closes his eyes.

“You were the only thing in my life I didn’t want to control.”

“But you did.” Your voice shakes. “You stalked me. Tracked me. You filed me under protected asset—like I wasn’t someone you loved. Just something you were afraid to lose.”

He doesn’t deny it.

“I was afraid,” he says. “Because you’re the only person I wouldn’t survive losing.”

He leans forward. His hands are shaking.

“So I lied. I covered. I convinced myself it was safer if you didn’t know how deep I’d gone.”

“How deep?”

He doesn’t flinch.

“There is no version of this world I’m willing to live in without you.”

Your breath hitches. He watches it. Memorizes it. Still doesn’t reach for you.

“But I understand why you left.”

A pause. His voice drops even lower.

“And if I never get you back, I will spend the rest of my life protecting you from a distance—without surveillance. Without control. Just… me.”

“Wanting you. And never touching you again.”

The silence between you is thick. Heavy.

And then—your hand moves.

Just slightly. Across the table. Near his.

Not quite touching. But not pulling away either.

“Start over,” you say. “No secrets. No files. Just you. Just me.”

His breath catches.

Then he covers your hand with his. Fingers curling. Tight. Like he’s scared you’ll vanish again.

“I swear,” he whispers, voice shaking. “No more lies.”

Caleb

You never wanted to be the jealous type.

But there’s something about seeing him like that— Caleb, your Caleb, in a low-lit bar, laughing softly while someone else leans into his space.

She’s gorgeous. Confident. Her fingers on his sleeve, her mouth too close to his ear. And he’s not pulling away.

He’s not kissing her. But he’s not saying no, either.

And that’s enough.

Your stomach turns.

You don’t make a scene. You don’t even wait for him to notice.

You just leave.

You cry that night.

Hot, silent tears soaked into your pillow as you stare at the wall, waiting for your phone to buzz.

A text. A call. Something.

It never comes.

It takes two days before Caleb even realizes you saw.

He doesn’t notice the missed messages. The silence. The sudden drop-off.

He thinks you’re just busy. Until he opens your shared calendar and sees:

“Pick up the rest of your stuff.” Saturday. 8PM.

He freezes.

And something inside him shatters.

When he finally gets to your door?

It’s pouring.

He’s drenched. Shaking. Breathing too hard to look calm anymore.

He pounds on the door once. Twice. A third time—harder.

“It wasn’t what it looked like!”

You open the door slowly.

You’re calm. Barefoot. In a hoodie. Eyes puffy.

“Wasn’t it?”

His breath catches. His fingers curl against the doorframe.

“She’s my handler. She was drunk. She got clingy. I didn’t—God, I didn’t even notice you were there until I turned around and you were just… gone.”

You raise a brow. Arms crossed. Silent.

“And you didn’t come after me.”

He swallows hard.

“I know. I know I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

And that’s when it happens. The soft, calm expression on his face—cracks.

He takes one shaky step forward, dripping on your floor, his voice breaking apart:

“Because I didn’t think I deserved to.”

You stare.

He keeps going.

“I saw your face, and I thought, ‘That’s it. She saw everything. She’s gone.’ And I—I froze. Like losing you was just the punishment I earned for not being what you needed.”

“But I was wrong.” “You were there. And I didn’t choose you fast enough. I didn’t run after you.”

His hand lifts—hesitant. Trembling.

“So I’m running now. Okay? I’m running now. I’m standing here—soaked, stupid, and sorry—because I’d rather beg you in the rain than spend one more night trying to pretend like I can breathe without you.”

Your lip trembles.

He steps closer.

“I love you.”

“You didn’t show it.”

“Then let me now. Let me prove it. Let me fix it.”

He falls quiet. Soaked to the bone. Voice gone. Heart in your hands.

You stare at him for one long, aching moment—

And finally, you open the door.

“One shot, Colonel.”

He exhales like he’s just been pulled back from the brink of death.

“That’s all I need.”

[mocha1004]

ROOFTOP GLANCES ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

(older!leon x plus size fem reader)

WARNINGS: fluff!!! mostly.., body image issues, low self esteem, emotional vulnerability, reader is self insert kinda

Summary: You and Leon are neighbors who always exchange glances but never talk, until one night, he finds you alone on the rooftop and starts breaking through your walls. You’re sure someone like him could never want someone like you… until he proves you wrong.

Notes: *taps mic* erm..is this thing on??? didn't write porn for once (sorry leonblr...) but this has been something i've thought about wayyyyy before starting this blog. before bed especially. it brings me comfort. decided to post this since i know there's others who relate to me. and i hope it comforts you in the same way <333 enjoy my pookies

You live on the sixth floor of an old but decently kept apartment building just outside the city’s heart. The kind with walls a little too thin, ceilings a little too low, and a rooftop that smells like tar and wind, but it’s yours. Quiet, mostly. Yours.

So is the rooftop. Or it feels like it. You’ve claimed it. The perfect place to breathe when the apartment walls feel too tight. You go there at night, wrapped in cardigans, hoodies, or thick shawls depending on the weather. Always alone. Always staring up at a sky that never answers, but always listens. Except… you’re not always alone.

Leon Kennedy lives two doors down from you.

You know this because you see him almost daily, passing each other in the hallway. He always nods politely. Sometimes he says “hey” or “good evening.” You respond with a mumbled hello and your best not-interested expression, even though your heart skips embarrassingly every time. He’s just…beautiful in that rugged,dangerous kind of way. Older, too, maybe late 30s. Stubble, tired eyes, hands that look like they’ve seen more than they should. He carries himself like someone used to being alert. Always watching. Always prepared. But you? You’re not the kind of girl someone like him notices.

You’ve always been the one guys talked to when they needed advice about other girls. You’re fat. Curvy, thick, however you want to dress it up, it always feels the same in your chest, like a disqualification. You dress well. You smell good. You know you’re not unattractive, not by the usual standards. But you’re also not the kind of woman men like Leon bring into their lives. So when you see him, shoulder to shoulder in the elevator, or brushing past in the laundry room, you pretend not to care. But it’s hard to keep pretending when you start noticing him noticing you.

Sometimes you catch him looking. Not in a rude way, just…thoughtful. Like he’s trying to figure something out. You catch his eyes flicking up from the book in your hand. From your lips. From the way you tuck your hair behind your ear. And lately, you’ve started hearing the rooftop door creak open after you’ve already been up there for a while. The sound of heavy boots lingering near the doorway. Then retreating.

You don’t know if he even realizes it at first. The way he waits for the elevator when he hears your steps. The quiet “morning” he offers even before you meet his eyes. The small nod when you pass each other on the stairs, like he's silently asking, You okay today?

He never says anything. Never comes close. And somehow, that’s worse.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

You’re on the roof, as usual, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, fingers curled around a lukewarm mug of tea. It’s quiet tonight. You tilt your head back, watching the clouds drag themselves across the sky. Not much to see, no stars. But it’s peaceful. Then the door creaks.

You turn your head, expecting the shadow to vanish again like it always does. But it doesn’t. Leon steps onto the rooftop. He’s wearing jeans and a dark hoodie, hands in his pockets. His eyes meet yours, and for a second, he hesitates. You straighten, grip tightening on your mug.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt” he says. “You’re not” you lie, trying to make yourself smaller. He steps closer. Slowly. Like he’s approaching a stray cat. “Didn’t realize you came up here this often.” You huff. “I live here.” He chuckles. “Right. Stupid thing to say.” He stops a few feet away, glancing around. “Mind if I sit?” You hesitate. “It’s… I mean, sure. I guess.”

He lowers himself beside you, leaving enough distance to not crowd, but close enough that you can smell him, cologne and whiskey. Neither of you speaks for a long time. Then he says, “You always look like you’re solving some cosmic mystery when you’re up here.” You smile a little. “It’s quiet up here. Hard to find that kind of quiet inside your head.” Leon nods slowly. “Yeah. I get it, but you make the quiet better.” And you don’t know what to do with that.

You take a sip of your tea, heart pounding. You feel exposed. Like he’s too close, too real. After a few more moments, you stand. “I should go. Long day.” He looks surprised but doesn’t stop you. “Right. Sure. Night.” You walk away too quickly.

And later that night, when you hear footsteps in the hallway and a soft laugh, a woman’s voice, you tell yourself of course.

Leon Kennedy doesn’t sit on rooftops with girls like you. Not for long, anyway.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

It becomes a routine. You sit on the rooftop most nights. Sometimes he joins you. Sometimes he doesn’t.

When he does, it’s always quiet at first. Then he’ll say something, a comment about the moon, or how cold it’s getting. You’ll answer. Then he’ll linger longer than necessary. You’ll talk about books. About the city. Sometimes he’ll ask questions, what kind of music you like, what your job’s like, if you’ve always lived alone.

You start to wonder if he needs these interactions more than you do.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

The knock on your door is soft. You almost miss it, buried under a throw blanket and the sound of your TV humming some show you’re barely watching. You hesitate before getting up, peeking through the peephole. Leon. Your stomach flutters, annoyingly, stupidly. You open the door just a crack. “Hey.”

He lifts the paper bag in his hand, a sheepish look on his face. “I may have ordered too much Chinese. Thought I’d share.” You blink at him. No leather jacket tonight, just a long-sleeve thermal and jeans. Still rugged. Still too handsome for this hallway.

You hesitate. “I’m not really dressed for…people.” His eyes trail down—just a glance. “You look nice.” You almost roll your eyes. “I’m in pajama pants and a hoodie.”

“Still better than most people I see every day” he says, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth. “Come on. I’ll eat it all myself otherwise.” You sigh, stepping back. “Alright. Just for a bit.” He steps in, bringing a warm smell with him. You clear space on the coffee table, moving a candle and a stack of books to the floor. “Didn’t think I’d see you tonight” he says as he sets the bag down. “Roof was empty.”

You don’t respond right away. You don’t want to admit that you stayed in tonight because the idea of running into him made your chest feel like it was stuffed with needles. That hearing another girl’s laughter outside his door last night made you feel stupid for letting yourself enjoy his company. You settle on the floor beside him as he hands you a container. You eat in silence for a few minutes, soft TV humming in the background. 

“You ever think about the future?” he asks suddenly. You glance at him. He’s not looking at you, just the television like it holds a version of himself he hasn’t found yet. You hesitate. Then nod. “All the time.” “What do you see?”

Your throat tightens. You take a breath and look up at the ceiling. “I don’t know” you whisper. “Sometimes I think about getting married. Having kids. A little place with a garden. Someone to come home to.” He says nothing at first. You continue, voice quieter. “It’s stupid, I guess. Simple stuff. But it’s always felt kind of impossible.” He turns to you, brows furrowed. “Why impossible?” You laugh once, dry and hollow. “Because guys like that don’t look at girls like me.” He doesn’t interrupt. He lets you speak.

“I’ve dated before” you admit. “Or tried. But it’s always the same. They say I’m pretty, but it’s always despite something. ‘You’re pretty for a big girl.’ Or they try to hide me. Or treat me like some secret they’re ashamed of. I start to wonder if I’m meant to be alone.” You blink hard, willing the heat behind your eyes to go away. 

You shrug, staring down at your hands. “I don’t fit the mold. I’m not what guys imagine when they picture that kind of life. I know I dress nice. I know I smell good and carry myself like I’m confident. But it’s armor, Leon. I wear it because if I let myself hope…” Your voice catches. “It’ll hurt worse when I get overlooked.” Leon shifts beside you. His voice is soft, but sure. “Hey.” He holds your gaze like he’s anchoring you there. “You deserve love. The kind that doesn’t come with conditions. The kind that doesn’t hide you.” You don’t speak. Can’t. “I don’t know what kind of assholes let you go” he adds, voice low. “But they were wrong. About all of it.” Your chest aches. You swallow hard. “You don’t have to say that just to make me feel better.”

“I’m not.” He reaches out, gently setting his hand on yours, letting you decide if it stays. “I’m here because I want to be” he says. “And if marriage, kids, the whole thing…if that’s what you want, then anyone would be lucky to build that life with you.”

Your eyes fall to his hand resting on yours, and for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that something as simple and beautiful as love isn’t so far out of reach.

You eat the rest of your food quietly, the air between you thick with something unspoken. He stays until your eyelids start drooping, then quietly excuses himself. As he leaves, you watch the door close behind him and press a hand over your chest. You don’t know what this is, or what it could become. But the way he looked at you tonight, It felt like you weren’t invisible after all.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

After that night on your floor with cheap takeout and too-honest confessions, he shows up more often. A knock on your door, asking if you’ve eaten. A quiet offer to watch a movie. A shared drink on the rooftop in silence, the city stretching far below you. He never brings up your confession again, he treats it like gospel. One morning, you wake up to a coffee on your doorstep, your usual, with the note: “Thought you might need this. - L”

The rooftop is quiet, like always. It’s your favorite place to breathe, away from the hum of neighbors and the noise in your head. Just you, the sky, and the wind tugging gently at your clothes. You don’t expect him tonight. He’s been busy with work. You never really knew what he does for a living, but seeing how he looks after work you never bothered to ask. You hear the door creak behind you. You glance over your shoulder, already knowing. Leon.

He doesn’t say anything at first. Just walks over, hands in his pockets, boots heavy against the concrete. The soft thud of his steps settles beside you where you sit against the wall, knees pulled close. He drops down beside you. “You always come up here when something’s eating at you” he says quietly. You don’t respond right away. Just look up at the stars. “I like the quiet.” He hums. “Me too.” A long silence passes. The wind picks up again.

“Can I ask you something?” he says after a while. “Why do you always look surprised when I do something nice for you?” You choke a little, then laugh. “I—what?”

“I mean it” he says, leaning back, watching you. “Every time I show up, say something kind, try to get close…you act like you’re waiting for the punchline.” You go quiet, put your drink down. He’s not teasing. Not pushing. Just looking at you like he wants the truth. “Because” you say finally, “I don’t know how to believe it.” He tilts his head, brows drawn. “You’re…you,” you add, gesturing vaguely at him. “You’re this strong, handsome, badass guy. And I’m me.” 

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“I say that like I’ve lived in this body my whole life.” you snap, then soften. “Guys like you don’t like girls like me. Not unless it’s some kind of secret. Not unless they want to get their ego stroked, or they’re bored.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “You really think I’m messing with you?” You glance down, throat tight. “I think maybe you don’t realize what you’re doing. That you’re being kind, and I’m being stupid for reading into it.” He moves closer. “Look at me.” You don’t. His voice is softer now. “Hey. Please.” You lift your eyes to his. You don’t expect what you see there, frustration, yes, but also something deeper. Longing. Pain. Affection, thick and unfiltered. “I like you” he says. “Leon—”

“No” he says firmly. “I like you. Not out of pity. Not because I’m bored. Not because you’re convenient. I like the way you overthink every text before sending it. I like how you talk with your hands when you get excited. I like how you smell like vanilla and strawberries, and I notice when it’s a different perfume. I like how you light up when you talk about your dreams, even if you think they’re small.”

Your heart is pounding so loud you’re sure he hears it. He leans in, close enough that you can see the stubble on his jaw, the faint scar by his mouth. “And it kills me” he murmurs, “that you still don’t believe me.” You open your mouth—but nothing comes out. Every insecurity screams louder than your heartbeat, louder than his voice.

Then he cups your face with both hands. Like he’s holding something fragile. His thumb brushes your cheek, and you instinctively flinch, but not away. You close your eyes. “Look at me” he whispers again. You do. He kisses you.

Not a rushed kiss, not hesitant either. A full, honest, real kiss, one that says this isn’t a game. His lips move slowly against yours, careful but certain. One of his hands slips behind your neck, keeping you close, grounding you when everything in you feels like it might fall apart.

And when he pulls back, he rests his forehead against yours. “You believe me now?” 

[sawarusi]

abby anderson x reader

Lucky

fluffy fic, bc abby deserves more love. tried to keep her as canon as possible. reader patches abby up and gives her the affection she didn't know she needed

Seattle wasn’t a destination. it was a mistake. at least, that’s what you told yourself when you first saw the skyline - half-drowned, crumbling behind rain and ash-grey clouds.

you didn't mean to come this far.

what started as a two-day lookout run turned into four. and after those long days, you were still empty-handed. almost every store you came across was already emptied. you kept following roads, trails, shadows of trails. it was supposed to be quick run for replenishing medical supplies.

you were the group’s medic. you were supposed to be back days ago.

painkillers, antibiotics, gauze. everything was running low. infection had already claimed one of your own last week. another was coughing blood. someone had to go out. but it wasn’t supposed to be you. you were too valuable for that - too essential to lose.

and yet here you were - soaked, exhausted, lost somewhere in the husk of a city you didn’t recognize until it was too late. you didn’t know you were in Seattle until the signs started showing up. patrol routes, WLF tags on walls, a rusty checkpoint gate.

still, you kept moving. you didn’t have the luxury to turn back empty-handed. by the time you stumbled across a pharmacy, the rain had soaked through every layer you had. your boots were heavy with mud and your limbs were aching with fatigue. the building leaned to one side, part of its frame collapsed under a fallen tree. but the windows were mostly intact, the signage faded but legible - madison pharmacy.

hope has yet again filled you.

you approached slowly, eyes sweeping corners, scanning for movement, traps, anything out of place. a piece of broken concrete served as a makeshift step through the shattered door. you entered and paused, listening for any potential threat. luckily, no clicking noise.

inside, it was silent. dust floated in narrow beams of grey light spilling from a crack in the ceiling. the shelves stood crooked, but, again luck was on your side. although some shelves were looted, you noticed the ones in the back still had plenty of suplies. you rushed to them.

you dropped your backpack next to you and unzipped it with numbed fingers - it was way too cold. you shuffeled through the shelf. you found a sealed bandage roll, four bottles of painkillers. there was even a surgical kit missing half its instruments, but still usable.

you hit the jackpot. you allowed yourself one content exhale. you weren't empty-handed now.

and that’s when you heard it.

a click - a mechanical click.

your breath hitched. every muscle in your body went still. it was a sound of a rifle safety being disengaged.

someone was behind you. and that someone now pressed the rifle's muzzle against your back.

"don't. move."

the voice was low and firm - commanding. it came from a stern and trained woman.

the pressure of the rifle now nudged harder into your back. you lifted your hands slowly, pulse hammering in your ears.

"what are you doing here? it's WLF territory. you're tresspassing. you shouldn't be here"

"i know." you said quietly. that gained a scoff from her. the pressure of the rifle against your spine didn’t ease.

“i'm not here for trouble,” you said. “i'm just looking for medical supplies. i’m a medic.”

"that’s not how this works." her voice edged toward warning now. “you don’t just wander into Seattle and take what you want.”

“i didn’t wander,” you replied. “i just happened to walk straight in. i got lost.”

another pause, heavier this time. she wasn’t expecting that.

“turn around.” she withdrawed her rifle so it wasn't touching you anymore, but she still had your chest at range. you obeyed and turned around, slowly, with your arms still up.

the first thing you noticed wasn’t the rifle. It was the blood.

her shirt clung to her right side, soaked in rain and red. the fabric was torn, bandaged haphazardly beneath her jacket - too fast, too shallow. it was still actively bleeding. not bad enough to drop her, but bad enough to slow her down. her weight shifted unevenly, favoring her left leg. her knuckles were tight around the grip of the gun.

the next thing you noticed were her eyes. not as sharp as you thought, they were fogged by tiredness.

“gosh, you’re bleeding.” you said, voice full of concern.

“keep your eyes up,” she snapped. “don’t think about getting cute.”

“i wasn’t,” you said. “i was thinking about how long you have before that gets infected.”

aflicker of something passed behind her eyes—pain, maybe. Or the first edge of doubt.

“i can patch you up.” you offered. “but you gotta put the gun down.”

she scoffed. “right. and have you stab me the second i do?”

you met her stare. “if I wanted you dead, i’d let the infection do the work.”

another pause. the rain outside beat softly against the broken windows, a dull rhythm filling the silence between you.

finally she lowered the rifle. not all the way. just enough.

“you patch me up,” she said. “then you get the hell out of my city.”

you nodded. “fair deal. get comfortable, this will take a while."

she leaned against the counter, her weight hit it harder than she meant to. "are you trying to make your condition even worse?" you said sarcastically with a raised brow.

she put her elbow of the hand with the rifle on the counter, still hesitant to fully trust you. but at least it was now only pointed to your leg. her teeth clenched, breath sharp through her nose, pain written across her face in flickers she probably didn’t mean to show. her free hand pressed against her side, fingers already sticky with fresh blood.

you dropped to your knees in front of her, unzipping your backpack and taking out the supplies you found moments before.

gloves - powdered and crinkled from being compressed for too long. gauze, still sealed in cloudy plastic. a needle with thread. your fingers sorted through it all without hesitation, the ritual familiar, almost sacred. you prepared everyhing you needed.

she watched you the whole time, silently studying your every move. you tried to ignore it, but the weight of her gaze wasn't helping.

when you gently peeled back her jacket, she flinched. her shirt had stuck to the wound, soaked through in a dark, glistening red. you worked carefully, easing the fabric away from torn skin. she grunted, a low, involuntary sound pressed hard behind grit teeth.

“breathe through it,” you murmured, voice low and gentle. “it’s deep, but looks clean. you got lucky.”

she gave a humorless huff. “doesn’t feel lucky.”

you glanced up - just for a second, eyes meeting hers. sweat was beginning to pearl along her temple, her jaw was locked tight, but not from fear, from pure endurance. she was doing everything she could not to flinch, not to move, not to make a sound.

not to look vulnerable.

her chest rose and fell in careful, practiced breaths. inhale. hold. exhale. like she was trying to control her own pain the way you'd control a trigger pull.

and in that moment, something shifted. she failed to keep the tough facade.

“easy, baby,” you said, hands gentle as you began to clean the wound. “i’ve got you.”

the words were out before you could stop them.

she froze and so did you.

the silence that followed wasn’t sharp - it was soft, fragile. she didn’t react, not really. just blinked once, slowly, then looked away. let it pass. she was processing whether that really happened or she just started to hallucinate from the pain.

you didn’t say it again. but you didn’t take it back, either.

the word still hung in the air like smoke, warm and quiet, curling into the silence between you.

your hands kept moving. you poured antiseptic over the wound. she hissed between her teeth, whole body going rigid for a beat. her hand curled against the counter, white-knuckled, but she didn’t pull away.

"almost done cleaning, you're doing great." you said, the praise was what you said to everyone you patch up, but this time, you said it more genuinely. you looked up at her "stictching's next."

"just do it." she muttered.

but her tone had lost its edge. it was less commanding, and more vulnerable and shaky.

you threaded the needle. hands steady. back hunched. full focus. knees sore from the cold tile. your fingers brushed the curve of her waist as you leaned in and started to stitch. the skin there was warm, a bit feverish. you felt the tension coiled in her body, in the way she tried to breathe around the pain, in how she twitched slightly every time the needle bit through her skin.

still, she didn’t curse or bark. she just endured.

"you're used to it." you said softly. it wasn’t a question.

her voice was dry. "more than I care to count."

"to others, or… to yourself?"

"...both"

the stitches went in clean, fast. your hands worked like they always did - reliable, careful, practiced. you could feel her watching you, again, with that heavy gaze. her head tilted slightly.

when you finished the last stitch, you cut the thread and wiped the blood away with a clean square of gauze. you didn’t speak. Neither did she. you peeled off your gloves and let them drop into your bag. then slowly, you stood up, back aching from being hunched so long, knees cracking from the cold tile.

you looked at her. "all done. atta girl"

she blinked up at you. the words hung in the space between you. 'atta girl'. no one said that to her.

her jaw flexed like she wanted to say something back, but no words could leave her mouth. she didn't know what words to use.

you turned away before the silence could stretch into something awkward and started packing up what little you had left - thread, wrappers, bloodied gauze. you stil needed it back at yor camp.

but you still felt her eyes on you, and still felt the shift in the air.

"thank you..." she said and paused, waiting for something.

"[y/n]"

"thank you, [y/n]. i'm Abby"

"thanks, Abby, for not shooting me on the spot." you replied, half jokingly half serious. at that comment, she put the rifle down on the counter. you stood up and tured to face her "and you're welcome."

“i meant what I said,” she murmured. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“i didn’t mean to be,” you followed. “didn’t even know i was in Seattle until i started seeing your goddamn signs.”

Abby huffed through her nose. “hell of a place to get lost.”

you gave a half-smile. “you tell me.”

for a moment, it was quiet again. not tense or awkward.

“well, [y/n],” she said, tilting her head toward the back exit, “if you’re gonna disappear, that’s the door.”

you didn’t move. neither did she.

“take care of yourself,” you said. “and that stitch job. don’t push it.”

Abby smirked faintly. “you think i won’t tear it just to spite you?”

you rolled your eyes, but there was no heat in it. “you tear it, i’ll hunt you down and fix it again. rougher this time. and without any painkillers"

she looked at you for a long second and crossed her arms on her chest. then, with something like amusement in her eyes, she said, “you’re not what I expected.”

You tilted your head, one brow raised. “what were you expecting?”

“someone scared.” she paused. “someone softer.”

you shrugged. “pfft i am soft.” you looked at her dumbfounded. "and i was scared. but as a medic, whenever i see someone hurt - i help. whether they're an enemy doesn't matter"

Abby definetely wasn't expecting that your response would be this... pure.

she shifted closer - barely a step - and lifted a hand like she might touch your arm, or your shoulder, but stopped herself half-way.

instead, she said “if you ever end up here again…” her voice dropped low, almost conspiratorial. “…don’t come into a pharmacy alone.”

you scoffed "noted." you put on your backpack and twent to the exit.

but before your hand hit the door, she called out “hey.”

you glanced back. Abby looked at you for a beat. her face unreadable.

“…thanks again. for not letting me bleed out."

you gave her a lazy, but a warm smile. “anytime, baby.”

there it was again. was it also accidental this time? nah.

she shook her head, a slight blush creeping onto her face "i better not see you around, baby." but she didn't mean it. she wanted for your paths cross once again, maybe in more safe circumstances.

[drceydoessstuff]

I’m not inlove

(jschlatt x reader)

no one asked for this. Idc. Basically a stoic reader who’s too stubborn on their emotions and a very persistent man who won’t let something good go to waste

Enjoy!

it’s not proof read

The first time you met Schlatt, he crossed you as a loud arrogant man, not someone you would particularly choose to hang around, possibly because he reminded you too much of yourself. You had been content creating for years now, and found yourself on chuckle sandwich (rip). It was a good day, a prominent memory to you, you expected it to be a passing meeting, something to get the views up and nothing more

However it turned out something about your abrasive attitude had peaked schlatts interest. Over time you found yourself doing video after video with him. You had to admit somethings he did were somewhat endearing, like paying for your coffees when you went to film, or remembering what music you listened to, and sometimes, even that stupid fucking nickname he granted you sounded somewhat sweet.

Somewhere along the lines your feelings got confused, almost as if you forgot who you were supposed to be; you weren’t supposed to feel like this. On nights you felt alone, you called him. Days where all you could do was lie in bed, he came over. And slowly, even though neither of you noticed, a seed emerged from underneath the ground and became a slow blossoming flower.

And by the time you saw it, it was too late.

But you would still be adamant. You were not in love. You were not inlove with his harsh voice, or his weirdly strong opinions on random things. You were not inlove with his stupid mutton chops or his intimidating stance. You were not inlove with his rich smile or insanely entrancing eyes. You were not in love with Schlatt.

And you would tell yourself that. Over and over and over until an extremely hot summer night when your phone rang at 1:02am.

Rolling over you picked up the phone, your annoyed voice, half awake, ringing through the line and meeting his ears.

“Hello?” You had not bothered to check who

“Hey toots!” Him.

why this this time? Why does he sound so..normal? Awake? It’s so late.

“jay? Why are you calling so late?” Your voice was more awake, filled with confusion

“I was just wondering if you’d wanna go out tomorrow? Just us no camera…call it a date?” You could practically hear the nervy smile in his voice, he’d clearly been thinking about it.

you froze. A date? You didn’t do dates, you didn’t do relationships even. Why would you? Put your heart in someone’s hands, let them manipulate your feelings and leave you hurt, destroyed. You kept to yourself, you kept yourself safe, your guard stayed up.

but now you noticed over time he had broke it down. You had opened your soul to him, shown him who you really were and he had not run.

“…okay…yeah yeah that would be nice”

an audible sigh was heard.

“I’ll pick you up at 6”

And he was gone.

One date couldn’t be so bad? It didn’t mean anything

It didn’t mean you were in love.

OKAY ENJOYYY

[robertsbarbie]

i never feel unsafe when i go on walks with tucker because i know at the end of the day he will protect me (even though he’s a big softie) but today yall i was real worried!

[wherethewaterstarts-andyouend]

.

[saintrosalyn]

JAILBIRD

Ghost becomes pen pals with an inmate before deciding that he wants to adopt his little jailbird.

Word count: 4.1k

Tw: inmate reader, reader is kept as vauge as possible but is implied to be younger than Ghost, violence, stalking, ghost is a perv, p in v, oral (f! Receiving), creampie, spanking (once), orgasm denial if you squint, unprotected sex, NOT edited we die like men.

Edited to Add: Part Two is posted :)

Notes: Baby’s first fanfic, please be gentle. Let me know if I missed any trigger warnings or if you want to see more! I have an idea for a second part but I don’t know if anyone wants it, right now it’s tucked away safely in my drafts. Enjoy! :)

P.S. I’m thinking about making an ao3 account and publishing an edited version of this on there. I’ll link it if I do! I’ve already spent too much time procrastinating finals but christmas break is around the corner so who knows.

The letter came with the top serrated, already opened, as all your letters came. You mostly ignored them. There were a couple of programs that allowed people to become pen pals with prisoners but you’d been there long enough to know what they often contained. 

Many of the women milked poor losers on the outside. Money given and sent. Promises of butterfly kisses and blowjobs whispered over the phone. Exchanges. Some were even able to sweet talk their honeys into giving bribes. Money passed into hands of guards, currency that was then exchanged for cigarettes, which were much more valuable on the inside than the bills used on the outside.

You don’t know why you read this letter. It certainly wasn’t the penmanship, a scrawled handwriting that lay between cursive and print. Maybe it was the blue pen, you’d recognize a Bic anywhere, or maybe it was the fact that it smelled a bit like top-shelf liquor. 

It was rather blunt. But not in an obscene way. Simple and straight to the point as if constrained by an unknown word count. It wasn’t memorable, but what else was there to do? Pace your cell back and forth and wait for zoochosis to settle further in your bones. Close your eyes and remember what freedom tasted like before it dissolved in your mouth.

The pen they gave you was cheap, the paper even cheaper, but you were used to making things work. Your reply was shorter than his, than Simon’s, but it got the job done. If he wanted to write back he would. If he didn’t, well, the new prison guard was starting to get rather handsy with you. The time will pass no matter what.

___

His replies came in strange patterns. Some weeks you’d get eight in a week, other times you wouldn’t hear from him for a few months. It took a year for the first phone call of which lasted less than a minute and consisted mostly of him grunting on the other end and a schlick sound you pretended not to notice. It was his fourth phone call that he finally said a few words in a voice so low it made the phone buzz against your ear, tickling like a lover's breath. Eventually, you had some semblance of conversations, even if they were interrupted by a recorded voice warning you of the time you had left. 

He told you he was a soldier and at first, you planned on cutting the whole penpal idea off. Even before you got arrested you hated bootlickers more than anything. But Simon grew on you, and your friends all suggested you get in his good graces to see if he could pull some strings. You would’ve felt guilty if he was anything other than glorified government property. Both of you were.

The first thing he gave you was a book, The Yellow Wallpaper, which was thicker than you remembered from the time you read it in school. It was only when you cracked open the spine did you find a pack of cigarettes inside, the pages carved out so your real present could be placed inside. You couldn’t help the smile that split your lips as you pressed one between your lips, not noticing the tiny S carved into it.

You thank him for the gift by whispering his name into the phone. A mantra, a prayer, it didn’t matter as long as you kept your voice breathy. He promises to get you more and you learn not to refuse him. At one point, you notice that little robotic voice doesn’t time you anymore. The guard who couldn’t keep his hands to himself was replaced with a woman, hair pulled back into a military-style bun. And you got an extra cookie with your meals.

It took a year for him to visit. You knew it was coming eventually, men are only fine with their imagination for so long before they crave something tangible. Hell, even you were curious about the man who wanted to sink his teeth into you. It almost felt like getting ready for a date. Butterflies dropped like lead in your stomach as you tried to tidy your appearance as much as you could. You smelled, but there wasn’t much you could do about that. The whole damn prison smelled like a county fair bathroom. The lack of air conditioning in the heat of summer just added a sweet BO tinge. 

The first thing you noticed about Simon was his size. You had never met a man as big as he was. The next was the thick scar tissue that marred his face. Though, even without the scars you would be hesitant to ever call him handsome.

Intimidating.

That was what came to mind staring at the thick cords of muscle that covered his arms and the broadness of his shoulders wasn’t just genetics. And he just stared at you. You glanced at the phone that connected to his on the other side of the glass and back at him but decided against it.

You offered him a small smile and an awkward wave. It unnerved you. The focus and attention pinned you in place. Normally you kinned yourself to a tiger you saw at a zoo when you were a child. One that paced back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. A habit you understood all too well. But sitting in front of your pen pal you realized you were rather off. 

Simon was the tiger and you were the bird that caught his attention.

It took far too long for the guard to come and collect you. For once you were grateful to retreat back to your cell, so much so that in your retreat you failed to notice the nod your warden gave Simon.

___

After that Simon met with you in person as often as was allowed. He never said anything and neither did you. Eventually, the novelty of him wore off. Humans were rather adaptable creatures, and you could only be scared of the man for so long before your body adjusted to him. Despite your silence, Simon didn’t appear displeased with you. In fact, it was almost the opposite of it. More gifts arrived.

A pillow, high-end shampoo, a toothbrush (that you had a strange suspicion was used before being given to you), nail polish, and more cigarettes. Some of the women were jealous of the attention given to you, others tried to get with you to share your bounty. Somehow you dodged most of the conflict. But you can only run so long while trapped with so many women.

When you showed up to your meeting sporting a bruised cheek and split lip the air quickly changed. Before you thought Simon looked like a predator. 

You were wrong.

Fear coursed through your veins and you recognized the look in his eyes. Every woman in the damn place knows what a hunger for violence looked like. Slowly he reached out an arm, the sleeve of his hoodie riding up slightly showing off tattoos, before grabbing the phone and pressing it to his ear. With a shaking hand, you did the same.

“Bird.” His voice was somehow deeper in real life than over the phone.

“You should see the other guy.”

His lips twitched.

There was something uncanny about his eyes. They weren’t brown, they were black. Obsidian. You realized that before, the first time you met him, he wasn’t trying to scare you. Though, you were pretty sure it wasn’t directed at you.

“Just a little spat is all Simon. Everything sorted itself out.”

All over a bottle of nail polish. Tempers run short in prison. You spend most of your days in a cell, and what little free time you get surrounded by the same insufferable bitches, it’s a mystery there isn’t more violence. For the most part, things were settled with words. The more physical an inmate gets the more time spent in your cell. There were some weeks where you spent twenty-three hours a day in that little room. 

Simon let out a sigh as if dealing with you was the most insufferable part of his day.

“Did ye’ get medical attention a’ least?”

You nodded your head.

He gave a grunt.

That seemed to be his preferred method of communication with you. Caveman grunts and growls, the occasional moan over the phone he couldn’t hold back. You figured it had something to do with his job. He was quite tight-lipped about it, but you gathered he has co-workers (his squad? Platoon? What was the proper lingo?). Despite this, you were under the impression he spent the majority of his time alone. He always seemed more primal after those month-long stints of silence.

You always wondered how you would feel if he never contacted you again. Went out and didn’t come back. Would you assume he was dead? That he moved on to prettier things that aren’t locked away? Would it make a difference to you? 

No. It wouldn’t.

Even now you got letters upon letters from other men. Though none were as giving as Simon was.

It was back to silence and staring contests that you were used to. The both of you slipping into a familiarity. He never put the phone back. Even when your warden came and escorted you back. You didn’t glance back at him. 

Tucked away in your cell you didn’t get to watch Simon slowly rise out of his seat, chair creaking from the shifting of his weight. You didn’t see Simon lurk in the back as the inmates met with their loved ones on the out. Didn’t see him take notice of a particular girls with nails painted the same shade as his gift to you. The same shade as the tip of his cock.

___

The girl was transferred. For a singular moment, you thought Simon had something to do with it. Then laughed at the idea. Simon may be in the military, but you highly doubted he had anything to do with the bitch who got transferred. At least you got your nail polish back. It was a strange shade, and the idea of a man as big as Simon standing in an isle trying to pick out a shade made you chuckle, it was the thought that counted.

Time marched on. Penpals came and went but Simon stayed the consistent part in your life. 

Eventually, the possibility of parole was on the horizon. 

Freedom. 

So close you could practically taste it.

Unfortunately, that meant a laundry list of to-do items. Court hearings, lawyers bankrolled by Simon, arranging for transportation and housing. Simon handled most of it. By now, the lingering guilt of using your soldier fiance had long left you. He seemed like the kind of man who needed to learn lessons the hard way, and entering a relationship with a felon was a lesson most didn’t need to learn. Still, he had been putting in quite a hard amount of work. He deserved a treat.

And after years of forced celibacy, you needed it bad.

The two of you would enjoy each other for a week or two. Simon would realize he made a mistake moving you in. He would kick you out. You’d pawn the ring he’d give you and use the money as a cushion as you landed, getting back on your feet. The two of you would go your separate ways and never see each other again.

Being in prison taught you a lot of things. Despite everything, patience wasn’t one of those lessons. The day you were gaining your freedom passed was the slowest part of your life. The checking, double checking, retrieving your stuff, checking again, until finally,

Finally,

You were outside. You were outside in something other than a uniform that stunk of sweat, there were no handcuffs. Anxiety crept everywhere. You wanted to get as far away from the prison as you could, if you breathed wrong a warden would drag you back. A pair of arms snatched you.

You looked up and couldn’t help but laugh, pressing your lips against his scarred ones.

“Fucking Christ your tall.”

He chuckled against your lips before taking them again, hands digging near painfully into your ass. The two of you somehow managed to walk back to his car peeling off one another before Simon peeled away, hand clutching the fat of your thighs as he drove.

“Never pictured you as a reckless driver.” You giggled.

The adrenaline and giddiness of being free hadn’t worn off yet. If anything it seemed to slowly be morphing into a different beast entirely. You pressed your lips against his bicep causing him to groan. You glanced up at him, watching as his jaw clenched weaving in and out of traffic in a way that was certainly not legal. You would’ve been worried about being pulled over if he wasn’t driving a military vehicle. They answered to a different police, or so he told you.

Eventually, he pulled into the yard of a house with an honest-to-God white picket fence. You smiled as you got out, curiosity creeping in about what his house was like. Simon opened the door for you, which would probably should’ve made you swoon at his gentleman-like behavior, but truthfully it was how he hauled you out of the card and dragged you inside that got your heart racing. 

Impatient.

The door barely closed before his body was pressed against yours and his lips were pressed against your jugular. One of his rough hands slipped up your shirt, grunting when he found a clear path to your tits instead of meeting the edge of a bra. The other dipped into the waistband of your pants, running over your clothed cunt, no doubt feeling the wet spot against your underwear. Your hands slid over his arms, squeezing at the muscle, before slowly sliding them up and up, going to the back of his neck, a hand threading through his short hair the other cupping his face to kiss yours. 

A large thumb found your clit, only the thin cotton stopped him from rubbing directly against it. He pressed down hard on it, causing your breath to catch in your throat, his thumb moving down your slit. The seam of your mouth parted in a moan and he used that to stick his tongue down your throat. 

The kiss was obscenely wet, beastly as his spit passed from his mouth into yours. Before prison, you would’ve pulled away with a grimace. Too much tongue, too much teeth, too much. But your whole body was on fire, years of pent-up orgasms made you desperate for it all. For someone to press against you, to be inside you.

Simon was oh-so-convenient. 

You tried to pull away, lungs burning enough to convince you that air was in fact a need, but the door stopped you. Pressed between it and Simon you had no escape. You whimpered against his mouth, again and again until he finally got the hint and pulled away, a string of spit connecting your mouths as if it too was reluctant to pull away from you.

“Bedroom?” You panted, though if he took you here against the door you would die happy.

Simon threw you over his shoulder and took his stairs two at a time before tossing you on his bed making you laugh. The caveman and his prize. Simon took the moment of being away from you to pull at the collar of his shirt. You watched in appreciation as it lifted higher and higher until it was discarded on his carpet. 

His body was marred in scar tissue, muscle, and a layer of fat that made for a solid fine specimen of the male species. His pants were discarded next, and either he pulled his underwear down with them or he just wasn’t wearing any to begin with. You didn’t have much time to ponder that thought distracted by his hard cock.

Jesus Christ.

Big was an understatement, monster was the word that popped into your mind. It crossed the territory between delicious into scary. Large and thicker than you thought possible. You swallowed and for a second hoped he would forget about the blowjob you promised him after he gave you a pillow. 

“Yer’ wearin’ too many clothes Birdie.” 

Quickly, though not as quickly as Simon was, you wiggled out of your pants, shrugged off your shirt throwing it in the same pile as his clothes. He stepped closer to you, one large hand grabbing your ankle before retching you towards him.

He leaned down, mouthing at your bare tits, slobbering over them. The soft press of his tongue flicked over your nipple before he moved to the other and grazed his teeth over it. His hands were everywhere. He was everywhere. Impossibly big and pressed against you everywhere. Until all your senses were filled with him. As if Simon was the only thing that mattered in the world.

The artificial sun in your glass cage.

His mouth moved lower, nipping at your skin before he moved between your legs. He settled his body in between them, the calloused palm of his hands pressing your legs further and further apart until the stretch burned in the muscles where your legs met your pelvis. Quickly the pain faded into the background as he pressed a kiss against your bare clit, before taking it in his mouth and sucking. You felt the rough pad of his fingertips press against your hole rubbing against it but never quite dipping inside. Again and again, he moved it against you but never in you. 

It was maddening.

You tilted your pelvis against his mouth, trying to coax his fingers into your welcoming body. He growled against your clit, removing his mouth causing you to whine. A sharp sting met your ass cheek and you yelped.

He spanked you.

“Behave.”

You never took the man to be hungry for anything other than missionary, but it seemed he had learned a few tricks over the years. He did have a few on you, you were sure of it. Your thoughts leaked out of your ears as he moved back up, slotting his hips in between your legs. Liquid lust ran through your veins at the sight of him rubbing his dick against your mound, a mess of your slick and his pre dragging along your pussy and up to your belly button. Your poor hole clenching around nothing at the image of how deep he was about to be in you.

You took a deep breath, mesmerized as he pressed the tip against your entrance, catching it before pressing himself inside. He went slowly, and you couldn’t help the moan that left you as he finally began to sink home. Throwing your head back you closed your eyes as he stretched your body out.

You weren’t a virgin before you were locked away, but years of celibacy made you feel born again. Hell, with the size Simon was even if you had fucked him before he would’ve made you feel virginal with the way he was splitting you open.

When you opened them again you caught his gaze, he stared at you watching your expression pinch as he gave small thrusts, working the last of him inside you. When his balls pressed against your ass you let out a shaky breath. You had passed your limit two inches ago but somehow Simon had managed to coax your sweet pussy to take the last of him inside. The pain of him had taken you away from the edge of an orgasm he was working you towards, but when his hand found your clit again you knew you weren’t going to last long.

If his shaky breaths were anything to go by Simon wasn’t going to last long either. 

He kissed you again, this time it was softer. Sweeter. Made your stomach turn in a moment of guilt. It was replaced when he drew out of you, slowly letting you feel inch after inch leave your body, before slamming back in.

He moved again against you. And again. Building up a punishing rhythm. You couldn’t help the small ah ah ah’s that left your lips as he rutted in you. Your hips pushed against his, working with him as you both chased your highs. 

His hand never left your clit, as if glued to it working in tight fast circles. His other hand traveled along your body as if he couldn’t get enough of you. Squeezing at your tits so hard you thought it might bruise, running up your bare skin, constantly moving and feeling. As if he couldn’t believe that you were real. That you were out of your cage and underneath him panting his name in his ear instead of against the end of a phone. 

Your own hands wandered. Moving over his arms, God’s gift to you, his chest. But mostly they moved down his back, feeling his muscles move and contract under your hands. Before you left you would convince him to put a mirror over his bed, so you could watch his shoulders shift and move as he thrust inside you.

It was too much. The feel of Simon, the stimulation on your clit, the thick cock pistoning like a machine inside you, pressure built and built inside you. Your nails dug into his back, dragging down as he pushed you off that ledge.

Simon’s thrusts stuttered as he felt your walls fluttering around him, suckling at his cock, coaxing him. He came with a groan soon after you, painting your walls with thick globs of his cum.

You panted as he rested against you, letting his cock soften inside you as you ran your nails over the nape of his neck and caressed his short hair. It was oddly soft, comforting to run your hands over.

Simon began to untangle himself from you, slowly as if reluctant to part from your embrace. He moved to what you now realize was the on-suite connected to his bedroom. You could feel his cum start to drip out of your cunt and down your asshole, shifting at the uncomfortable feeling. You couldn’t find the energy yet to move, not even sure if your legs could support you right now. Simon came back to you, wash-cloth in hand, and began wiping up the mess he made.

“We’ll have to get a Plan B tomorrow.” You murmured as he crawled back into bed next to you.

Simon didn’t say anything, but he had always been a quiet man. He maneuvered the both of you until you rested under the covers, your hand running along his bare chest. Tracing his happy trail before moving back up, not ready to go again.

The adrenaline from before had worn off, leaving you suddenly exhausted. Sated and free you dozed off against him.

When you woke up again it was darker outside. Not yet the full black of night but rather the soft blue that came after the sun had only just dipped out of sight. Simon wasn’t in bed next to you. You rolled over with a sigh, sitting up and smoothing your hair. Thirsty you threw the covers off your body and padded across out of his room entering into a small hallway. There was a door directly across his room and with a shrug, you went into it. 

It wasn’t snooping if you lived here now too. Even if you were only going to stay for a little bit.

The handle turned easily but the room was darker than you expected, no windows to let in any natural light. Your hands patted at the wall until you found the edge of a light switch, with a click the room was bathed in a soft glow.

Your breath hitched.

The room was bare except for a small desk and chair, the walls were covered in photos. Photos of you. Old photos, from before your prison stint. Mugshots. But what made your skin crawl were photos of you in your cell. You sprawled out on your uncomfortable cot. You sitting cross-legged across from your cellmate. Images of you in the cafeteria. Images of you in the yard. 

You took a step back, then another, and another.

You flicked the light back off and slowly closed the door. You took a shuddering breath and yelped when you felt a chest pressed against yours. 

Simon’s hands dug into your hips, pulling you tight against him.

“You look like you’ve seen a Ghost, Birdie.”

Poor little bird, trading one cage for another.

___

Part Two

[nanamisgirly]

imagine nerd!Choso, you both are in the same degree. he didn't really noticed you at first but, for some unknown reasons, he kept bumping into you— wether in the hallway or you'd be few rows in front of him during lectures. And just like that, he developed an obsession toward you. and might god forgive him, but he couldn't help jerking off his cock at the thought of his length disappearing between your lips, eyes flickering up at him with a teasing glint. he was kind of sad you didn't even know he existed :/

but how lucky! in one of your lesson, the teacher assigned a partnered project. and fortunately, the duo were made with a randomized system!! Choso did not think twice, with some quick manipulation on his computer, he paired himself…with you! almost too easy

on your side tho, you had never heard the name Choso before. So when you reached out to set up a time for the project, you didn't expect much of it. But now…sitting across from him…his wide figure looming over the table, inked arms straining against the ridiculous tightness of his shirt…that was another story. How hadn't you noticed such a pretty face?? sharp eyes lined with kohl, two messy buns with some rebellious strands framing his beautiful features, and perfect dark purple painted nails tapping against the table. ‘am i blind or sum?’ you wondered. 

nerd!Choso was originally awkward with social interaction but more so when it came to you. He clears his throat "I- uh," he started, voice trembling "f-for the work, would you like t-t- to…" his cheeks flushed an adorable pink as you stared at him, giving him time to formule his thoughts ‘such a cute boy’ you mused.

"we can do it at my home!" he suddenly blurted out, words rushed, as if the poor man hadn’t said it now, he never would have :( "i- i mean, t-the assignment! o-of course..." he was so embarrassed of himself, his hands nervously cupping his warm milk chocolate "if— if you want to.." his eyes darted anywhere but yours, unable to hold your gaze. not when you were looking so intently, like you were seeing right through him. because what if you had some superpowers, the kind to read his horny thoughts, the kind to know exactly how many times he fucked his fist to the image of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his aching cock. catastrophe!!!!

nerd!Choso was blushing furiously, messier, stuttering over his words more than usual when you were unconditionally giving your best to give the man a gooood ride. “p-p-please” he whined, voice breaking. You leaned in, your breath warm against his ear “tell me, my pretty shy boy…what are you begging for, hmm? use your words, pretty". 

choso's hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline, fingers digging into your skin. “y-you— mngh, it's— it's too good. i can't last— i— please,” he choked out, eyes glossy as you slammed your hips down harder. His happy trail rubbed against your clit with every grind. the friction giving you as much pleasure as him.

“preeetty boy," you cooed, trying to maintain your composure despite having his fat dick stretching you enough to see stars. “is this what you've been thinking about the whole year? me riding you? or even better,” your mouth went for his neck, licking softly, contrasting with the pulsing grip of your cunt, milking his cock. "touching yourself to the thought of my glossy lips wrapped around your pathetically big dick ?" your voice was so sensual "tell me, tell me and i'll give you what you want” that man was moaning, the sluttiest moans escaping his throat. in response, your walls clenched harder, trying to suck him in even deeper at this point. “i— i was— i mean, i- fuckfuckfuck" choso were sure he lost the ability to form a simple sentence, his head falling back as he felt his tip kissing your cervix. but he tried his best to continue "i— i was…pumping my— my cock at the- mngh, thought o-of you..t-takin' me…d-d-deep,” poor boy was losing his mind. You've never seen a man being that pussy drunk, so openly lost into you, that was addicting.

your fingers trailed over his inked pecs, moving along the curves of his tattoos making their way to his nipples, and you pinched. not too rough to hurt but enough to send jolts of pleasure through his body. “look at this good boy," you sighed, feeling choso throbbing inside you. "earned the right to cum inside me… would you like that?”. 

you loved teasing him. he was a total whimpering, fucked out mess beneath you. ‘so cute’

nerd!Choso was as sure as the sky is blue that you had superpowers, somehow. and you both sure as well scored a beautiful A on the assignment.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[ratherchili]

𖹭 cw: suggestive, edgy, mdni

part one | two | three | four | five ‹soon›

Unfortunately for you, your big brother's friend sukuna can be surprisingly light on his feet for someone so large. It seems that startling the living hell out of you is his new favorite pasttime. And he's around all the time now. He shows up unannounced and lets himself in. When you ask Toji why he has a key, he just laughs and says, "He doesn't. He wants in. He gets in."

Okay? That's cryptic and annoying, but you'd rather feign indifference than ask questions. Why overcomplicate things?

Mostly, he just sneaks up behind you and shouts, "Hey, brat!" In his stupid, booming voice as he claps all four of his large hands down on your shoulders. You count it as a victory when you detect his smokey scent first and actually manage not to jump out of your skin. Although you still break out in goosebumps at his touch, he doesn't seem to notice, judging by the satisfying look of dissappointment on his face. Your satisfaction is short-lived, however.

The sound of the two men crashing through the front door in the wee hours of the next morning startles you awake. You flick the bedside lamp on just in time to see sukuna crash through your bedroom door. Of course, you scream and clutch the pink duvet to your bare chest. "Oops," he says, with a shit-eating grin. "Wrong room." Toji drags him out with some half-assed muttered apology about drinking too much. You're not so sure that's a pertinent excuse. The smug look he shoots you before the door slams shut seems pretty much par for the course, at this point.

Sadly, that was not the end of early morning encounters with the monster. Now he has you caged in against the counter, nearly breaking your back in an effort to lean away from him. Evidently, he had seen fit to creep up behind you and you between the kitchen counter and his mountain range of a body. And you wee only trying to steam milk for your latte. What the fuck is his problem, anyway? Can't a girl make her morning coffee in peace? Your protests remain lodged in your throat, however, along with your racing heart.

He's so large and so close you have no choice but to look at him, which, to your horror, still renders you temporarily speechless. Being so close to him reminds you a little of the first time you ever saw a tiger at the zoo. The animal was so unlike anything you had ever seen before, so deadly and beautiful, that you could hardly believe it was real. Could hardly believe that it was roaring and pacing close enough that you could reach out and sink your fingers into its thick coat if not for the bars. The bars kept you safe, then. What is keeping you safe, now?

It is unsettling, the way his upper set of eyes remain locked on yours while the lower set look down at the hand scalded by your spilt coffee. "What's the matter brat? Hurt yourself?" He mocks as you clutch the injured hand to your chest. You hardly notice that one of his hands has left the counter, but somehow you don't flinch when he lifts it to your cheek to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear. "Did I scare you?"

The gentle gesture alongside his mocking words is so disconcerting that you remain a quivering-lipped mute as seconds crawl by at a snails pace. You wonder if the action was subconscious on his part. Seems the only viable explanation.

You don't find your voice again until Toji's breaks whatever hypnosis the monster has you under. "Let's go," he says, and, just like that, Sukuna pulls away and you are finally able to pull air into your lungs again. "Gonna be gone for a couple of days-" Toji begins, addressing you.

"Please tell me you're taking it with you," you interject, stabbing an index finger in Sukuna's direction.

"Yeah," he says. And sukuna gives you one last smug, spider-eyed glare before he disappears through the door.

You're so relieved that it doesn't occur to you how quickly a couple of days can pass. Or that, when they do, your brother might not be the first to return. Relieved, not only to be free of Sukuna's bullying for a time, but also because what you feel is not truly fear. It's more like awe, if you really had to put a name to it. But you make a point not to think about it too much, or at all if you can help it.

part one | two | three | four | five ‹soon›

taglist ‹ age in your bio to be added ›

@orikixx ; @scorpiosugar ; @just-lilita ; @shesabeeler

[navydoves]

Mermaid!Rafayel and his strange habits while in heat.

He has a lot of cycles… all of which you have to suffer through.

✎ᝰ a/n. alright, rafayel is our starter for this sister series! i hope people enjoy this series as much as they did the “affectionate habits” one. if you want to be tagged in the next updates for this series, pls lmk i will be happy to. the other lis are:

- bunny xavier, cat zayne, dragon sylus, and cyborg/puppy caleb (i have to choose for caleb)

enjoy!

affectionate habits ver.

࣪𖤐

❥ he hisses! no more chirps or chitters, rafayel cannot stop hissing at everything around him. it’s not even just other men or women, it’s also like… coral reefs and amoebas. the hissing is rather loud and a bit scary, but he never does it to you. no, rafayel’s hisses are a way to ward off others in order to protect you. even if those “others” are passing crabs.

the first time rafayel started doing this you thought he was mad at you and this was his way of expressing it. you would recoil at the sound and then try and comfort him so you could figure out what you did wrong. but as soon as rafayel notices you’re upset, he immediately brings you into an embrace and reassures you that it’s not you. it’s the seaweed next to you, babe.

although when it comes to actual people, rafayel will get even louder in his hisses. he genuinely hates the idea of others being with you when he needs the most attention now. he thinks everyone’s out to get a piece of you and his anger only tells you he would never hesitate to hurt or kill those who get too close.

❥ he pins you constantly. it’s no secret rafayel is concerningly strong, but his muscle mass and strength become more prominent during his heat. by no joke, he will pin you with an index finger and leave you helpless writhing. but that’s precisely why he likes doing it. he really enjoys seeing you submissive and struggling underneath him, even if he’s not gonna do anything.

but most of the time… he is gonna do something. the whole point of his pinning is so he can keep you still as he going ramming into you from every position. his thrusts are deep and strong, so you need to be kept still or else you’re gonna go flying out the sea. he’s rough when he’s in heat and he’s practically training you to take his force because… well who else is gonna help him? only you can, no matter how much smaller and weaker you are.

❥ he speaks in lemurian. about half of the time rafayel spends in his heat he spends speaking to you in tongues. his heat is so instinctual that he can’t help be speak his native tongue even if you can’t understand him. he’s pawing at you, growling and begging right up in your ear until the entire tone of his voice changes. suddenly you’re hearing words you can’t make out in low pitches that make you shudder.

knowing he needs you is hot enough. but not knowing what he’s gonna do to you is even hotter. all the dirty talk he’s probably saying in your ear as he bend you over a rock and presses his 12 foot form against you gets you going. overtime you’ve learned a few words here and there… kind of. you know the words he says when he’s satisfied and or about to come, but you don’t actually know what they mean. you know the words he uses when he’s threatens you (not actually, just sexually) to come help him.

he’ll switch back and forth between his two languages unconsciously, especially in the heat of the moment. but if you’re being honest… you kinda want him to swoon you in lemurian all the time.

❥ he cries a lot. i think it’s well known that rafayel can have major mood swings sometimes, and his heat makes this a lot worse. while he is rough and claiming a good decent amount of the time, he’s also super emotional when you’re not around. he’ll curl into seaweed beds or alcoves to sob and whimper because he doesn’t have his darling with him. he’ll especially throw a fit if his heat becomes painful and there’s no outlet for him to use.

it’s a very sad sight to see. pearls come floating out of his eyes because he feels so lonely. his biology is telling him to give his body to his beloved, but if she’s not here or can’t, then it physically pains him. he’s physically bonded with you and can’t even think about using anything or anyone else to help him with his heat. the best he can do is stimulate his two cocks in private to best simulate what you might feel like, but it’s never ever enough.

❥ his cocks are always out. usually there’s a slit on the forefront of his tail where they retract and hide away until necessary but during his heat… well they’re just kinda always there. and it’s not because rafayel can’t put them away, it’s just that he doesn’t want to. at first you though maybe it was just a biology thing. cocks always out? right makes sense, he needs them constantly. but you learned from him that no… he just likes having them out with you around.

it’s for convenience sake. any sudden surge of horny he gets, no time is wasted getting those things out. he’ll immediately have you on your back with his floater friends ready to penetrate. they’re never soft either… they’re always just kinda hard and slick. while the sight is maybe a little bit amusing, it’s also impractical. you can’t sleep next to him without having to make room for his long schlongs. you can’t graze against them accidentally unless you want to be spurted with strange lemurian liquid. you can’t look at them for too long without rafayel getting incredibly horny and wanting to fuck you.

at some point you asked him why he doesn’t just put them away until they’re needed, but he insists on having you admire impressive his assets.

❥ he’s really obsessed with baby-talk. give him the benefit of the doubt, he’s in heat. while regular, normal rafayel isn’t too keen on the idea of babies, lemurian, in heat rafayel loves them. he massages your tummy and imagines his little seedlings in there. he doesn’t let himself come anywhere else but inside you in hopes of getting you pregnant. he’s constantly playing with your breasts in hopes that you’ll magically start milking.

the biology won’t allow it and rafayel knows that, but his brain is too muddled with ideas of you becoming a mother to his children. while he is no doubt aggressive in his heat, the heat itself is a biological purpose used for only mating. and lemurians mate for life. there’s no one else. so be honored <3

࣪𖤐

[aerialmirrorss]

𝐧 𝐨 𝐛 𝐨 𝐝 𝐲 𝐠 𝐞 𝐭 𝐬 𝐦 𝐞 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ rafe cameron

playing: 𝐧𝐨𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐞 by sza 𝜗𝜚˚｡˚ ⋆

synopsis! a kickback on the beach involving both kooks and pogues turns ugly after rafe sees jj maybank talking sweetly in your ear..

paring: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

warnings: friends? with benefits , angst , mentions of underage drinking , violence (fist fighting) , toxic!rafe , sexual content + rough unprotected car sex! , choking , fingering , mature , 18+ (minors dni!)

word count: 6.7k

notes: thinking about making this into a series but it just depends on how we all like it so lmk!

chapter two: 𝐰 𝐢 𝐥 𝐝 𝐟 𝐥 𝐨 𝐰 𝐞 𝐫 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

chapter three: 𝐜 𝐚 𝐬 𝐮 𝐚 𝐥 ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆

⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆ ⋆ ˚｡⋆ 𝜗𝜚 ˚｡˚ ⋆⋆ ˚｡⋆

“you’re a fucking idiot,” kie says through a burst of laughter, watching jj attempt to shotgun two beers at once. instead of drinking, most of the beer spills straight onto the sand, leaving him grinning like it was all part of the plan.

a soft giggle slips past your lips as jj smashes the crushed cans together dramatically, then thumps his chest like he just pulled off something incredible—even though he couldn’t have failed more miserably.

you shake your head, pointing at the two crushed cans lying in the sand. “don’t give him any more if he’s gonna pull shit like that!” you say, half-serious, half-amused.

jj’s grin fades into a mock frown, his brows furrowing as he throws his hands up dramatically. “what? i was just getting started!” he protests, though the beer-soaked sand beneath him says otherwise.

you roll your eyes, ready to fire back at jj, when the vibration of your phone in your hand distracts you. the name on the screen makes your stomach flip, and you bite down on your bottom lip, fighting to keep a smile from slipping out where your friends could see.

kook devil: wya?

you: beach kickback on the cut

kook devil: omw

this time, the smile wins. you glance down at the screen, the corners of your lips tugging upward despite yourself. it wasn’t the first time rafe cameron had texted you late at night, asking where you were. but no one else knew that. and you weren’t about to admit it to anyone—especially not to your friends.

friends who hated kooks with a passion. and everything, and everyone, that came with them.

“what are you smiling at?” sarah asks, her voice light but laced with curiosity, as she and john b stroll over, his arm draped casually over her shoulders. her amused grin only makes you more nervous.

you lock your phone instantly, still smiling but scrambling for an excuse. “my package just got delivered,” you say quickly, trying to sound nonchalant.

sarah hums in response, the suspicion in her tone subtle but enough to make your stomach tighten. you don’t notice, too busy avoiding eye contact and silently thanking the chaos that erupts when jj and pope start arguing about something ridiculous, as usual.

you knew what you were doing was wrong. so wrong, especially to sarah. if she ever found out you and rafe were hooking up behind everyone’s backs, she’d lose it. they all would. and not just because he’s a kook.

it’s because he’s rafe fucking cameron.

it was kind of a blur how it all started with rafe. you remember being at a party—not sure if it was here on the beach or in figure 8—but of course, he was there, lingering in the crowd. all night, his eyes kept finding yours, holding your gaze just a little too long.

a couple of tequila shots later, you found yourself in his truck, attempting to ride him as he fucked you senseless, leaving you a trembling mess of moans and breathless curses.

ever since that night, you’d fallen into a rhythm—friends with benefits, if you could even call it that. except you weren’t friends. not even close.

you and rafe both knew the deal—just sex, no strings attached. it was made clear the second time you hooked up. after somehow getting your number, rafe texted you at 1 a.m. asking to meet. if it had been anyone else, you would’ve said no without a second thought. but rafe cameron always gets what he wants.

afterward, it was rafe who spelled it out: just sex, nothing more. and you agreed, even though the words stung more than you cared to admit. you told yourself you were fine with it, hoping that maybe, just maybe, if you played along long enough, he’d change his mind.

except he hasn’t.

and what really reeled you in was just the other day, you spotted him on the golf course with stacy thornton, topper’s cousin of all people. and of course he knew you’d see him—you work the country club as a bev girl. how could you not?

still, you swallowed the lump in your throat, pretending not to care even as your chest tightened. you quietly asked a coworker to handle his table, murmuring something about being swamped, and then buried yourself in busywork to avoid the sting of watching him laugh with her.

since that day, he hasn’t called or texted. not a word. until tonight.

because surely, stacy was busy.

“yo, y/n! come shotgun a beer with us!” kie and sarah call out, snapping you out of your thoughts. you force a small smile, pushing everything about rafe to the back of your mind as you stand up from the driftwood branch you’d been perched on. joining your girls, you grab a beer and do your best to play along.

as the night rolls on, the beach fills up with more people—kooks, pogues, and everyone in between. the music gets louder, and the air becomes a chaotic mix of laughter, shouting, and waves crashing in the background. drunk teenagers stagger through the sand, passing bottles and shots around, but so far, there haven’t been any issues. yet.

but you know how these nights go. when kooks and pogues show up to the same party, trouble is inevitable. it’s only a matter of time before someone says or does something to spark it. like clockwork.

bright headlights pierce through the darkness, momentarily blinding you as a familiar truck pulls onto the beach. your stomach tightens at the sight, but you force yourself to stay calm, laughing along with your friends as if you hadn’t noticed. even as the kooks around you start murmuring and shouting, announcing rafe’s arrival, you keep your eyes anywhere but on him.

your gaze flicks to sarah, catching the way her jaw tightens when she sees her older brother greeting her old friends with effortless charm. the tension is palpable. it’s no secret that sarah and rafe are far from good terms, and the thought of what she’d do if she ever found out about you and him is enough to make your chest ache. she’d hate you—no question about it.

and you didn’t want that. not now, not ever. so tonight, with enough liquid courage coursing through your veins, you’d finally do it. you’d end whatever this thing was with rafe. it was time. it had to be.

“hey, sweetheart,” jj slurs, suddenly draping an arm over your shoulders, his familiar, lopsided grin plastered across his face. the smell of alcohol lingers on his breath, and you can’t help but laugh. drunk jj was always clingy and affectionate, a far cry from his usual chaotic self.

“how are you? you good?” he asks, his voice softer than usual, his blue eyes lazily scanning your face for any hint of something wrong.

you nod, patting his knee where it rests against yours. “i’m fine, jay. what about you? having fun?”

he grins wider, squeezing your shoulder as if to reassure you. “always. especially now that you’re here.” his words are lighthearted, but his presence, warm and grounding, makes the knot in your stomach ease just a little.

“don’t start something you can’t finish, maybank,” you tease, your tone playful, something that’s always been a part of your dynamic with jj. it was harmless, never anything more than friendly banter. jj was like a brother to you, and you both knew it.

his smirk widens, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “oh, i always finish what i start,” he shoots back, his voice dripping with mock confidence. the comment makes heat rise to your cheeks despite yourself, and you nudge his side with a laugh.

“relax, jj,” you say, still grinning, but he just laughs along with you, clearly enjoying your reaction.

then his tone drops, more conspiratorial now, as he leans in closer. “can i tell you a secret?” he slurs, his voice low and exaggeratedly serious.

you play along, tilting your head toward him as he cups a hand over his mouth like he’s sharing classified information. “i’m so drunk right now,” he whispers dramatically.

a laugh bursts out of you, louder than you intended, as you push him off of you. “no shit, jay,” you say through your giggles, watching him sway slightly before laughing along with you. moments like these made everything feel lighter, even with the weight of everything else hanging in the air.

suddenly, the laughter dies in your throat as a familiar voice cuts through the noise, instantly tightening the tension in your shoulders. “i wanna laugh too,” rafe drawls, his tone sharp and laced with something dangerous.

your head snaps up, and sure enough, there he is, standing a few feet away with his hands casually stuffed into his pockets. but his stare is locked on you, unwavering, intense. your stomach churns as you quickly look away, pretending not to notice.

“what are you doing here, rafe?” sarah asks, her voice cold as ice, glaring at her brother like she wanted him gone before he could stir up trouble.

he shrugs nonchalantly, though the slight clench in his jaw betrays his calm demeanor. “well, last time i checked, you don’t own the beach, sarah,” he retorts, his tone sharp enough to cut. the sunset casts a fiery glow on his face, highlighting the tension in his features. he’s angry—at what, you don’t know, but it’s obvious.

sarah opens her mouth to snap back, but before she can, jj suddenly stands to his feet, his drunken bravado kicking in full force. “what’s your problem, man?” he slurs, his voice rising as he steps forward, shoulders squared like he’s ready to fight.

your heart pounds in your chest as the energy shifts sharply, the tension coiling tighter with every second. it’s like the whole beach can feel it, the calm before the inevitable storm. you glance around nervously, noticing the kooks starting to make their way over, drawn by the brewing conflict like moths to a flame.

what had been your comfortable little corner with your friends now feels suffocating as more and more people gather, the divide between kooks and pogues growing thicker with every step they take. rafe doesn’t move, his stance unbothered but his eyes flickering with something unreadable as they dart between jj and you.

you can hear your friends muttering behind you, tension spreading like wildfire. this wasn’t going to end well—you could feel it in your bones.

john b, ever the peacekeeper, steps in with a steady hand on jj’s shoulder, giving it a calming squeeze. “hey, bro, take a walk,” he says softly, his tone measured, trying to de-escalate before things spiral further.

but jj shakes his head, his expression twisting with frustration. “nah, nah, nah,” he says, shrugging john b’s hand off. his voice is louder now, sharp and angry, fueled by alcohol and pent-up resentment. “i’m so tired of these fuck-ass kooks ruining our fun. everything was fine before they got here.”

he turns to rafe, his eyes blazing with defiance. “so answer the damn question, rafe. what the fuck is your problem?”

the words hang in the air, cutting through the murmur of onlookers as more kooks and pogues close in around you, their postures rigid and ready for whatever’s about to unfold. the tension is suffocating, thick enough to choke on. your stomach twists as you glance between jj, who’s practically vibrating with anger, and rafe, whose jaw is locked, his eyes dark and unreadable.

rafe suddenly lets out a low, humorless laugh, shaking his head like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. he swipes a finger under his nose, his signature tell that trouble is coming. before anyone can react, he steps forward and throws a punch, his fist connecting squarely with jj’s jaw.

the sound of the hit echoes over the beach, silencing the chatter and gasps from the growing crowd. jj stumbles back, catching himself before falling, his hand flying up to his face as he spits blood into the sand.

“you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” john b mutters, stepping between them instinctively, trying to keep jj from lunging forward. but jj’s already shaking with rage, shoving john b aside as the crowd erupts around you.

the once calm beach party turns chaotic, the tension finally snapping into chaos, and you’re frozen in the middle of it all, unsure of what to do as your heart pounds in your chest.

mayhem erupts around you as everyone starts shouting, the noise almost deafening. jj and rafe are swinging at each other, fists flying with raw anger. john b and topper try to break it up, but their own simmering tensions (sarah cameron) boil over, and soon enough, they’re throwing punches at each other too.

“alright! alright!” you, sarah, and kie yell, your voices cutting through the chaos as you rush in, desperately trying to pull the four boys apart. it’s a mess of flailing arms, insults, and drunken fury, but with the help of the other pogues and even a few kooks who seem equally tired of the drama, you finally manage to separate them.

jj stands a few feet away now, chest heaving as he wipes blood from his lip, glaring daggers at rafe. rafe, meanwhile, is being restrained by two kooks, his jaw tight and his eyes locked on jj like he’s ready to go again at any second. john b and topper aren’t much better, breathing heavily and throwing venomous insults back and forth as they’re held apart.

you step back, your heart still racing as the crowd buzzes with murmurs and tension, the air thick and electric. this was far from over, and you could feel it.

“yeah, stay the fuck off our side of the island!” jj yells, his voice sharp and unwavering as the kooks start retreating. rafe lingers, of course, making direct eye contact with you. his gaze burns, but you glare right back, your frustration simmering beneath the surface. whatever you needed to say to him was definitely happening tonight after the shit he just pulled.

“take jj to the chateau. i think there’s a first aid kit in the bathroom,” john b instructs kie and pope, his tone calm but firm. they nod, each grabbing one of jj’s arms to help guide him away. jj, still riled up, mutters under his breath about how much of a pussy rafe is, his words slurring slightly from the drinks and adrenaline.

sarah walks over to you, concern etched across her face. “hey, you okay?” she asks gently. her voice is soft, but the sincerity in her eyes almost undoes you. you nod quickly, blinking back the tears threatening to spill over.

“yeah, i’m fine. just anxious,” you respond, your voice steady enough to sound convincing. it’s not entirely a lie, but it’s far from the whole truth. sarah offers you a small, understanding smile, her hand rubbing your arm soothingly.

“coming?” she asks, gesturing toward john b, who’s waiting for her a few feet away.

“i think i’m just gonna head home,” you say, your voice a little rushed. “my mom texted—she got off work early, so…” you let the excuse hang in the air, hoping it’s enough.

sarah nods slowly, her eyes flickering with a mix of understanding and suspicion. “john b and i can walk you,” she offers.

“no, it’s okay. i kinda need a moment,” you reply quickly, your voice firmer this time. you hold your breath as her gaze lingers on you, studying you for a beat too long. but thankfully, she doesn’t press it.

“okay, babe,” she says finally, her concern softening into a warm smile. “let me know when you get home, yeah?”

you nod, watching as she walks back toward john b, the two of them eventually disappearing into the growing shadows. only when they’re far enough away do you exhale, the weight of the night pressing heavy on your chest.

with one last glance at the party starting to settle back down, you turn and walk in the opposite direction, knowing exactly where you’re going—and who you’re going to face.

you make your way over to the truck, its headlights dim now but still parked exactly where he left it. crossing your arms over your chest, you lean against the back door of the truck, waiting. it’s quiet here, tucked away from the rest of the beach where no one can see you.

the sound of approaching footsteps pulls your attention, and there he is. rafe cameron, calm and collected as ever, despite the chaos he caused. he’s holding a red solo cup against his cheekbone, the faintest shadow of a bruise forming. but even so, you have to admit—he doesn’t look nearly as bad as jj does. of course he doesn’t.

his eyes meet yours, and for a moment, neither of you say anything. the tension between you is thicker than ever, the air heavy with unspoken words. you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for what you came here to do.

“i can’t see you anymore, rafe,” you say, finally breaking the silence. your voice is firm, but you can feel the ache behind the words, threatening to betray you.

rafe doesn’t move. instead, a small, almost smug smile quirks at the corner of his lips. “get in the truck,” he says, his tone low and even, like it’s not up for debate.

your brows knit together, your frustration bubbling up. did he not hear you? or worse, did he just not care? “no, rafe,” you snap, shaking your head. “what you did today—” you pause, letting out a sharp sigh as the memories replay in your mind. your gaze shifts over his shoulder to the road, watching cars pass by, their headlights a welcome distraction. “you hurt my friends,” you continue, your voice quieter now but still steady. “i care a lot about my friends. and that shit you pulled back there?” you point toward the spot on the beach where the chaos unfolded, the tension still lingering in the air. “wasn’t cool.”

rafe follows your gesture with a glance, his expression unreadable. but when his eyes flick back to you, there’s something in them—something dangerous, something unshaken. he doesn’t respond, just waits, like he knows you’re not finished yet.

“why would you do that?” your voice cracks despite your best effort to keep it steady. the words hang heavy in the air, and you curse softly under your breath, furious with yourself for letting your emotions bubble over. you promised you wouldn’t let him see you like this—wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing you cry. but now, the tears are pricking at the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill.

rafe’s face doesn’t change, his jaw tight but his expression otherwise calm, almost detached. it’s like he’s weighing his words, deciding what to say—or if he’ll even bother answering at all. the silence feels suffocating, the weight of everything unsaid pressing down on your chest.

“are you fucking him?” rafe finally speaks, his voice low and steady, but the accusation behind the words hits you like a slap. you stare at him, wide-eyed, like he’s just grown three heads.

a laugh of disbelief escapes you as you shake your head, running a hand through your hair to keep yourself from losing it. “are you serious right now?” you ask, your voice teetering between anger and shock.

“are you?” he presses, his tone sharper this time, his eyes locked on yours, unrelenting.

“oh my god,” you mutter, another laugh bubbling out, this one laced with frustration. “is that why you did that? you think i’ve been fucking one of my best friends? are you shitting me, rafe?” you shake your head again, the absurdity of the accusation almost too much to handle.

he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t back down, his gaze still burning into yours like he’s waiting for you to crack. but you don’t—at least, not yet.

“well, since we’re just accusing each other of shit now,” you say, your voice sharp as a knife, “how’s stacy doing?” your eyes flicker between his, and just like you predicted, his confidence falters. there’s a moment—a flicker—where his gaze drops, and you pounce. “i assume she was busy tonight, right? that why you texted me?”

“what the fuck are you talking about?” rafe snaps, his chest rising and falling heavily as he steps closer, his frustration spilling over.

“oh, don’t give me that shit, rafe,” you fire back, crossing your arms tightly over your chest. your eyes dart away from his, landing anywhere but on him. “i saw you at the country club,” you continue, your voice cold, the memory still fresh.

his jaw tightens, but he doesn’t say anything, and the silence only fuels your anger. “and even then,” you add, spinning back to face him, your words cutting like glass, “what if i am fucking jj? what is it to you? you’re the one who said no strings attached, right?”

you see the way his nostrils flare, his jaw clenching so tightly you think it might snap. his eyes darken, and you know exactly what he’s thinking—the thought of jj seeing you the way rafe has, touching you, hearing the sounds you make. it’s killing him. but he won’t say it. not out loud.

“you’re mad, rafe,” you say, your voice quieter now but still firm. “but you don’t get to be. not after the rules you set.”

you push past him, deciding you were done—done with the accusations, the games, all of it. but, of course, you don’t get far. rafe’s hand closes firmly around your wrist, yanking you back toward him with enough force that you stumble. before you can steady yourself, you collide with his chest, the hard press of muscle against you taking your breath away.

his lips crash against yours without warning, rough and demanding, pulling a shocked gasp from your lips. the intensity of it sends a jolt through you, but it’s not enough to freeze you in place. your fists fly up, pushing hard against his chest, trying to shove him off.

“rafe,” you manage, your voice muffled against his lips, but it’s like he doesn’t even hear you. instead, your resistance only seems to fuel him, his free hand sliding up to wrap around your neck, not too tight, but firm enough to hold you there.

his lips move hungrily against yours, his breath hot, his grip unwavering. you can feel the frustration, the anger, and something else tangled in the way he kisses you—something you can’t name, something overwhelming. your heart races, torn between wanting to fight and the way your body reacts instinctively to his touch.

you hated it. hated how easily your body betrayed you, handing itself over to him without a second thought. and the worst part? rafe knew it too. he always did.

he used it to his advantage every time, just like now. the second your resistance began to falter, the tension in your fists loosening as your body instinctively softened against his, that familiar smug smile tugged at the corners of his lips. he could feel it—the way your resolve was slipping, the way the pull between you was overtaking every logical thought in your mind.

the familiarity of him started to seep through, clouding the anger that had burned so brightly just moments ago. rafe’s grip on your neck relaxed slightly, his fingers brushing your skin like he had all the time in the world, as if he wasn’t the reason you’d wanted to end this in the first place.

and god, you hated him for it. but you hated yourself even more. no matter how much you told yourself to walk away, to end it, your body always seemed to betray you the moment his hands were on you.

before you even realized what was happening, you were in the back seat of rafe’s truck, straddling his lap. his hands gripped your hips with bruising force, guiding your movements as you instinctively rolled against him. the friction of his hardened, clothed cock pressing against you sent shivers up your spine, a traitorous whimper slipping past your lips.

his breath was hot against your neck, his lips brushing your skin as he let out a low groan of satisfaction. you hated how easily he got to you, how the anger you felt just moments ago melted into something entirely different. but no matter how much you wanted to stop, your body moved on its own, craving the familiarity of him, the intensity only he could give you.

his hands move from gripping your hips to trailing up your back, his fingers deftly finding the string of your bikini top. with a quick tug, the knot unravels, and the fabric falls between you, exposing your chest to the cool night air. the intimate sound of your breathing mixes with the muffled noise of the distant beach party, but all you can focus on is him.

rafe wastes no time, leaning in to pepper kisses across your chest. each press of his lips ignites a trail of goosebumps on your skin, the sensation making you arch closer to him. his mouth finds one of your hardened nipples, pulling it into his mouth as his hand cups the other, his fingers teasing and rolling with practiced precision.

a moan slips from your lips, filling the still air around you. rafe hums in satisfaction, his hot breath fanning against your sensitive skin. his grip on you tightens as he continues, clearly intent on drawing every reaction out of you that he can.

“fuck, i missed you,” he breathes, his voice low and ragged as he pulls back just enough to let the words slip past his lips. before you can even process them, his mouth is back on you, his lips and tongue working their way across your skin, pulling a broken whimper from your throat.

you shake your head weakly, your fingers gripping his shoulders, trying to ground yourself. “no, you didn’t,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the words more of a desperate plea than an accusation.

rafe pauses, his lips hovering over your collarbone. his hands tighten their hold on your waist, pulling you impossibly closer as he meets your gaze, his blue eyes blown out. “yes, i did,” he mutters, his tone firm, almost defensive, before dipping his head back down to kiss you again, as if he could erase the doubt you so clearly feel.

with one hand, he makes quick work of the button on your shorts, pulling them down just enough to give himself better access. his hand slips past the waistband of your bikini bottoms, his fingers brushing against your heated skin. the low groan that escapes his lips when he feels how soaked you are sends a jolt of heat straight through you.

“not surprising,” he mutters against your lips, his voice thick with smug satisfaction.

you gasp, your head falling back slightly as his fingers glide through your folds, gathering your arousal before starting slow, deliberate circles against your clit. the sensation sparks through you, making your hips instinctively rock against his hand, chasing the friction.

rafe’s smirk deepens as he watches you, his free hand gripping your waist tighter to keep you steady. “that’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, his voice low and gravelly, dripping with control. “just like that.”

a moan escapes your lips when his fingers pick up their pace, his breathing becoming heavier against your neck. “think that pogue could get you to cum like i can, huh?” he taunts, his words cutting through the haze of pleasure. before you can respond, his fingers dip into your entrance, filling you to where you feel the cold metal ring wrapped around his finger, while his thumb presses firmly against your clit. the double stimulation sends a shockwave through you, your hands fisting his shirt as you struggle to stifle the moans threatening to spill out.

you bite down hard on your lip, trying not to give him the satisfaction he craves, but it’s so hard—he knows your body too well.

“i know he can,” you finally manage to retort, your voice breathless but defiant. the second the words leave your mouth, you see it—the flicker of rage that darkens his eyes. his movements grow rougher, more deliberate, as if he’s determined to make you eat your words.

you sob out a moan, your body trembling as his pace remains relentless, refusing to give you even a second to catch your breath. “the fuck he can,” he growls, his voice low and feral, watching with a smug satisfaction as you struggle to keep yourself upright. his smirk deepens as he leans in, capturing your lips in a bruising kiss, all teeth and desperation, swallowing your broken cries.

your hands cling to his shoulders as waves of pleasure crash through you, your body arching into his touch. his fingers work you expertly, his movements precise and unyielding as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge, your breaths coming out in ragged gasps.

“c’mon, baby,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice rough and dripping with desperation. “let me hear you.” his words send a shiver down your spine, and you feel yourself teetering on the brink, unable to hold back any longer.

you feel yourself start to convulse around his fingers, your body trembling as a broken cry tears from your lips. the waves of your orgasm crash over you, leaving you breathless and weak. rafe keeps going, his fingers guiding you through every pulse of pleasure, not stopping until your body begins to twitch with hints of overstimulation. but there’s no tenderness in it—not that you deserved any, not after what you said.

your earlier comment still burned in his mind, fueling a fire in his chest, the thought of you with jj maybank making him see red. it wasn’t about trust—it was about possession, and rafe couldn’t stand the idea of someone else touching what he considered his.

without warning, he grabs your waist and flips you around, pressing your head against the leather seat, your ass in the air. your shorts and bikini bottoms are gone in one swift motion, leaving you completely exposed. you barely have time to react before you hear the sound of his zipper, his own clothes hitting the floor of the truck in a mess.

“you wanna talk about jj?” he growls, his voice low and dripping with frustration as he positions himself at your entrance, the heat of him pressing against you. “let’s see if you’re still thinking about him when I’m done with you.”

before you can process his words, he thrusts into you without warning, burying himself to the hilt in one swift, punishing motion. the stretch is overwhelming, a cry slipping from your lips, quickly muffled as you press your face into the seat.

rafe doesn’t give you a moment to adjust, setting a relentless, eye-rolling pace that has your body jolting with every thrust. his hands grip your waist tightly, pulling you back to meet each snap of his hips, his frustration evident in the way he moves.

“you feel that?” he mutters, his voice rough and breathless as he leans over you, his chest grazing your back. “that’s all me. no one else, you hear me?” his words mix with the sound of skin against skin, every syllable driving him deeper, leaving you a trembling mess beneath him.

you nod dumbly, unable to form words as your body reacts to his every movement. a gasp tears from your lips when his arm snakes around your neck, pulling you upright slightly and holding you firmly in place. the pressure makes your head spin, amplifying every sensation coursing through your body.

the truck fills with the obscene sounds of wet slaps and desperate moans, each one louder than the last. your cries mix with rafe’s rough groans, the intensity between you reaching a fever pitch. you briefly thank your lucky stars that his truck has fully blacked-out windows, shielding this mess of tangled limbs and raw need from prying eyes.

rafe moans in your ear, his voice thick with possession, his breath hot against your skin. “all mine. no one else gets to have you like this.” his pace never falters, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge again, leaving you gasping and trembling under his control.

just when you think the pleasure is close to consuming you whole, rafe’s fingers snake down between your thighs, finding your clit with infuriating precision. he rubs quick, tight circles, the added sensation pulling a choked cry from your lips as your body jerks in response.

your arm flings back instinctively, your hand finding the back of his neck, clutching onto him desperately as if he’s the only thing keeping you upright. his breath is hot against your ear, ragged and uneven, matching the force of his thrusts.

“fuck, baby,” he groans softly, his voice laced with satisfaction as he feels you trembling against him. “you’re gonna cum, aren’t you?”

“rafe—“ you moan, your grip on his neck tightening as the overwhelming mix of sensations sends you spiraling, your body teetering on the brink. every snap of his hips, every movement of his fingers, pushes you closer, the pleasure crashing over you in waves as you fight to keep from collapsing back into the seat.

your body trembles uncontrollably as the wave of pleasure crashes over you, your walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip. rafe grunts, his breath ragged and uneven as he feels you squeezing him, the sensation tipping him over the edge.

“shit,” he moans, his voice low and strained, giving one last stuttered thrust before he stills, his release spilling into you. the warmth of him floods your core, the weight of his body pressing against yours as he rides out his high, panting heavily into the crook of your neck.

the air in the truck is thick, the only sounds now the mingling of your heavy breathing and the faint hum of the world outside—so distant it feels like it doesn’t even exist. rafe’s hand loosens its hold on your hip along with the arm around your neck, his thumb lazily brushing your skin as he finally starts to come down.

rafe’s forehead, damp with sweat, rests against your shoulder for a moment as he catches his breath. Slowly, he pulls out of you, leaving you trembling and weak-kneed. Sensing it, he carefully guides you to sit on the seat, his touch surprisingly gentle now, as if trying not to shatter the fragile silence between you.

but it doesn’t last long. the haze starts to lift, post-sex clarity hitting you like a wave. your heart pounds—not from pleasure anymore, but from the weight of everything that just happened. you don’t look at him, don’t say a word. instead, you scramble off the seat, your eyes scanning the floor of the truck as you rush to gather your clothes. the humid air clings to your skin, suffocating you, making it feel like the walls of the truck are closing in.

“y/n,” rafe starts, his voice softer now, but you don’t respond, just shake your head. You tug your shorts on with shaky hands, your bikini top still tangled in your grasp as you turn your back to him, your only thought being how fast you can get out of this damn truck.

as soon as you adjust your bikini top, you’re scrambling for the door handle, slipping out of the truck as quickly as you can. the door slams shut behind you with a loud thud, cutting off the heavy silence inside. rafe’s voice calls after you, his tone somewhere between frustration and confusion, but you don’t look back. you don’t even slow down.

his words echo faintly in the humid night air as you trudge across the sand, but you block them out, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

you hated yourself in this moment—really hated yourself. how could you be so weak? jj was probably back at the chateau right now, an ice pack pressed to his bruised face, joking it off like he always did. meanwhile, you were here, tangled up with the very person responsible for putting him there.

it made your stomach twist. you felt pathetic.

the guilt gnawed at you, making every step away from that truck feel heavier, like you were sinking further into something you didn’t know how to escape. you wrap your arms around yourself, the night air cold against your skin, and silently vow—never again.

as you step into your home, the soft glow of the television catches your eye. your mom is asleep on the couch, the faint sound of some late-night show playing in the background. you pause, the sight of her peaceful face tugging at something inside you. quietly, you grab the nearest blanket and drape it over her, tucking it gently around her frame before turning off the TV.

you make your way to your room, your body heavy with exhaustion. pulling out your phone, the screen lights up with countless missed calls and texts—all from him. rafe’s name stares back at you, the words call me back and where did you go? flashing among the messages. with a sigh, you open the contact and quickly silence his notifications. blocking him would feel too final, too harsh, and you know it wouldn’t stop him anyway. rafe knew where to find you—where you lived, where you spent your time, even your favorite food spot. blocking him would only provoke him further.

you drop your phone on the bed and head straight for the bathroom, turning the shower dial as cold as it would go. the icy water hits your skin like needles, but you welcome it, hoping it’ll wash away everything—his touch, his words, the feeling of his hands on your body.

but no matter how long you stand there, no matter how hard you scrub, the memories resurface, unrelenting. the way he looked at you. the sound of his voice. the pull he always had on you. you press your forehead against the cool tile, biting back the emotions threatening to overwhelm you.

how did it get this far?

the muffled vibration of your phone stirs you from sleep, the name sarah 🐚 lighting up the screen. groaning, you fumble for the phone and press it to your ear, voice still thick with sleep. “hell—”

“is it true?” sarah’s voice crackles through the static, sharp and tense, jolting you fully awake. your eyes shoot open, the confusion and dread hitting you all at once.

“sarah, what—” you begin, but she doesn’t let you finish.

“got it,” she says curtly, and before you can protest, the line goes dead.

you pull the phone away from your ear, staring at the dark screen as if it could offer you answers. confusion twists in your chest, but then you see it—a new message notification from her.

your hands tremble slightly as you unlock your phone and click the message. the screen shifts to a video file, sent from an anonymous number. you hesitate, the dread creeping up your spine like ice, but you press play.

the blood drains from your face as the video begins. it’s you—you and rafe. the footage is grainy, but it’s unmistakable. you see yourself pressed against the back door of his truck, his hands gripping you as you melt into the heated kiss. the angle shifts slightly, shaky and invasive, capturing the moment he pushes you inside the truck. and then—cut.

the video ends abruptly, leaving you staring at the black screen, your heart racing so hard you can feel it in your throat. you drop the phone onto your bed, your blood running cold as the weight of it crashes over you.

someone had seen. someone knew. and now sarah did too.

© aerialmirrorss

[lvl1l1]

How the LaDS men react to you leaving a note in their lunch

pairings: Xavier, Zayne, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x F!Reader(separate)

content: corny puns(i’m sorry), tiny bit suggestive, mostly fluff, mentions of meals being skipped in caleb’s

a/n: caleb’s and sylus’s a teensy bit longer bc i got carried away at end oopsies

Xavier

You and Xavier usually ate lunch together, be it after a mission or after training. Perks of being partners at work.

Today, however, was different.

Xavier had to join the analytics department for a debrief after a special solo mission.

He originally planned on flaking and leaving with you as soon as you had wrapped up your work.

But once you had persuaded him a bit with promises of spending the whole day together tomorrow and a long cuddle session tonight, he caved.

You patted his head as he was pouting at you and pressed a small box to his chest, before turning around and waving goodbye.

He barely registered the tupperware he was holding, as he longingly stared at your retrieving back.

Once you were out of sight, he looked at what exactly you had given him.

Taking in the silver box, he smiled to himself.

The corners of his lips turned upwards and he went to sit down on the nearest chair.

You expected him to eat it during a short break during the meeting, but he couldn’t wait that long, knowing you prepared something for him.

He was contemplating taking out his phone and telling you to come back and join him right now, eat the food you had made for him, together.

He stopped that train of thought, thinking to himself that he didn’t want to drag you back here.

With a slight shake of his head and sigh escaping his lips, he went to open the box.

The first thing he noticed was the amazing smell of whatever you had packed him, the second wasn’t the food but a little yellow note stuck to the roof of the lid.

“Hang in there, Xavie.

I’ll make it worth your while tonight ;)”

The tips of his ears turned red, he stared at the note before breathing out a chuckle.

You really knew how to motivate him, didn’t you?

Before he could linger on the note for too long, he heard a chipper voice behind him.

“Oh, hey Xavier! Mind if we join you?”

He saw Tara and Simone put their bags on the table he was sitting at.

He gave them a small nod of acknowledgement, immediately tuning them back out again after.

He hid the note in his pocket, thinking about how to repay you later.

Zayne

Zayne was used to you preparing his lunch for him, he considered you bringing him his lunch during his breaks as part of his work routine.

He loved getting to see you amid his packed schedule, finding a way to sneak in some extra time for you two to spend together.

Unfortunately, today you couldn’t drop by and bring it to him in person, since you had to go on a mission outside of town.

Instead, you had handed him his lunchbox this morning, kissing him on the cheek before heading out.

He usually looked forward to his break because he knew he’d be able to see you.

Today, that perk fell away, so once his break time rolled around, he kept on working on some reports.

Until he heard the notification sound he put specifically for you,

“Don’t forget to eat, Dr. Zayne!”

“I miss uuuu, can’t wait to see u later”

A small smile graced his lips, an expression you easily brought out of him.

“Take care of yourself. I’ll be alright, as long as you’ll return in one piece later.”

Once he saw you were offline again, he put his phone away, finally taking out the lunchbox you had prepared for him this morning.

He placed it on his desk, taking the lid off.

He immediately noticed the small sticky note you had left.

“I’m “nuts” about you ;D enjoy your break, my love.”

Zayne silently quirked a brow as he read the message you wrote for him.

He shook his head as a quiet laugh escaped him.

His face went back to its usual deadpan expression.

If anyone were to walk in, he’d appear the same as he usually did. You’re the only one who would’ve been able to make out his hidden amusement.

Before he went to eating, he quickly pressed the sticky note to the frame of the picture he had of you two on his desk.

He was looking forward to welcoming you home tonight.

Rafayel

Rafayel had been whining all morning.

He was being forced to meet up with some art brokers outside of Linkon.

He had come up with 10 different excuses and 7 different plans on how to get out of this, yet all of his attempts were shut down. By you.

Talk about betrayal.

You had spent the entire morning talking him into going, saying how it would benefit him and how he should just make Thomas’s job easier for once.

Why couldn’t you understand that he just wanted to spend as much time with you as he could!!!

The next best idea in his mind was coaxing you into coming along.

Too bad for him, you already had plans for the day.

“Just get going already, you big baby.”

You had said to him.

“The sooner you get there, the sooner you can come back. Probably.”

You paid no mind to his heart clenching pout(self proclaimed) and just pinched his cheeks.

Before he could attempt anything else, like tripping over a brush and pretending to have broken his back, or blowing up his car(who knew what lengths he was willing go to, just to get out of work? You certainly didn’t want to find out.) you pressed a chaste but sweet kiss to his lips.

“Have a good day, Rafayel. And be nice to Thomas!”

And before he knew it, you were out of the door.

A groan left his lips, as he rolled his eyes in annoyance.

He was willing to go along with anything you had planned today, he just wanted to be with you a bit more.

Finally, wrapping up his sulking once he realised you weren’t coming back and he really did have to get going.

He grabbed his bag and left out the door you had disappeared out of, minutes before.

Fast forward a few hours later, he’d been sitting in some stuffy office, barely paying attention to what Thomas and the man sitting across from him were saying.

“Alright, let’s take five.”

At that, Rafayel perked up.

Immediately getting out of his chair and walking towards the door.

“Always nice doing business.”

Thomas gave him a pointed look,

“Rafayel, we aren’t done here yet. You better not take too long.”

The purple haired man hummed without looking back and left the building as quickly as he could.

While he knew Thomas was probably gonna think he left, as soon as he couldn’t find him inside, he didn’t care.

He got in his car and rested his head against the steering wheel.

He stretched and went to reach into his bag to grab his phone to text you, when he suddenly saw something he hadn’t noticed before.

There was a silver box sitting in his bag.

You sweet, cunning little thing.

He immediately pulled the lunchbox out, a look of intrigue in his eyes.

Of course, you wouldn’t just cruelly send him into hours of boring work, without rewarding him!

He took the lid off, being met with another sweet, sweet surprise.

Your handwriting immediately caught his attention.

“You’re doing amazing, baby!”

A chibi you doing a thumbs up next to the message,

and on the bottom you drew two stick figures holding hands, surrounded by hearts.

He chuckled quietly and if anyone told you about the lovesick look on his face as he stared at the tiny note, he would’ve sworn they were lying.

He reached back into his bag to grab his phone, snapping a picture of the note,

“seems like ur down bad for me lol”

You didn’t have to know about the goofy grin on his face as he ate whatever you had prepared.

Sylus

Whenever he could, Sylus would make sure you and him shared at least one meal together.

He knew, that due to your conflicting schedules, that wasn’t always possible.

By the time you’d wake up, Sylus’s day was slowly drawing to a close,

by the time you’d have lunch, Sylus would be fast asleep,

and by the time he’d wake up, you were finishing up the last of your work.

Yet he’d make an effort regardless.

Whether it be having breakfast, while you were eating your last meal of the day or keeping you company while he brought you breakfast, simultaneously getting ready to wind down after a night of work.

Obviously, that didn’t always work.

Sometimes you two would barely be able to see each other, missing one another due to your complicated relay race of a sleep schedule.

Today was one of those days.

Yesterday was your day off, but you had to get up early today to get to the Hunters Association on time, so you decided to catch up on some sleep and hit the hay early last night.

As Sylus had to get ready to leave, you had finished up your dinner.

Just as you got into the bedroom to call it a day, Sylus was heading out to tie up some loose ends.

With murmured declarations of love, you bid each other farewell. A quick kiss on the cheek, a soft peck on the lips and out the door he was and you were settling into bed.

Morning came rolling around, Sylus was taking longer than usual.

Before you knew it, you had to head out of the door, taking one of Sylus’s many cars to drive back to Linkon City,

not before sending him a quick text, though;

“I’ll get going now. Rest well, Sy!”

By the time he had gotten back to the base, you had long been gone.

He rubbed his eyes as he read your text.

Feeling groggy, he decided to skip his last meal and texted you back a good night message.

Once he had woken back up, he was half expecting you to be back, laying next to him but to his disappointment, you were no where in sight.

He headed to the kitchen as he checked the time.

5 pm. Surely you’d be coming back soon.

Sylus found Luke and Kieran lounging around the fridge and he quirked an eyebrow at them,

“You two usually don’t show your faces here, unless it’s time to eat.”

The twins looked at him, Luke scratching his neck and Kieran going back to looking around the kitchen,

“Well, boss…”

“Your bad luck struck again.”

“Very unfortunate, indeed.”

“Mhm, mhm!”

Sylus looked at them unimpressed, waiting for them to elaborate.

Luke and Kieran looked each other, silently trying to get the other to break the news to him.

“You see,”

“You might’ve just missed…”

“Miss hunter, boss-man.”

“Mhm, you totally missed her, boss.”

“She just left actually.”

Sylus could feel a headache forming, squinting his eyes at his henchmen.

“She was here? Why would she leave so soon, then?”

The twins shrugged in unison. Mumbling something about how unpredictable hunters were.

“She actually got here a few hours ago,”

“Said she didn’t wanna wake you.”

“Something about you needing the sleep.”

He heard one of them snicker, he couldn’t care enough to glare at the one who did.

Sylus ran a hand through his hair and a pointed look was enough to send the twins scurrying off.

He made a mental note to subtly complain to you about this later.

His mood souring after finding out he just missed you by a hair, he decided to have someone bring his breakfast up to his office, as he turned on his heel.

He spent the day in his office, working through a pile of reports and modifying Mephisto.

He sent you a few texts in between but gathered that you were busy, considering the lack of responses.

He was starting to think he shouldn’t have worked on Mephisto today, curious to see what you were up to, that was so much more important than answering his texts.

At around midnight, a knock resounded on his door.

“Come in.”

His hopes that it might just be you crushed, as he saw one of the twins walk in.

“Yo, boss-man, we were told to make sure you take a break. Instructions from the boss of all bosses.”

He placed a lunchbox on Sylus’s desk and disappeared as quickly as he had shown up.

Mephisto started cawing, reminiscing a laugh.

Sylus shut him up with a flicker of his gaze.

He reached for the black box and opened it.

His lips curled upwards into a half smirk as his eyes landed on the post-it note.

“The anticipation of seeing you later is driving me crazy.

Now, eat up!”

He could read you like an open book, even when you weren’t with him, yet having you be so open about your feelings made something inside of his chest bloom.

Even when you were busy, you still made sure to leave your mark on his day one way or another.

The soft look in his eyes was only ever reserved for you and he couldn’t wait to show it to you.

Don’t think he’ll forget about how you didn’t answer his texts, though.

Caleb

Growing up, Caleb always packed your school lunch.

He would cook for you whenever you were home.

And even when he wasn’t home, he’d make sure you were fed one way or another.

That habit never stopped as you two got older.

He loved cooking for you, it’s the reason he learned how to make all of your favourite dishes.

You always wanted to return the favour but a good moment never presented itself.

From starting college and becoming a pilot to becoming the Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, his discipline only increased and so did his love for you.

Just when on earth could you find the time to make food for a man who got up at the ass crack of dawn to work out and make you a nutritious breakfast.

Well, once you found out that this same disciplined man skipped his own meals in favour of getting his work done, you decided to step your game up.

You had it all planned out, you’d take a few days off without telling him, meal prepping for him and getting to his apartment in Skyhaven without telling him.

As you arrived at his place and unlocked the door, stepping inside, your phone vibrated.

“Whatcha up to, pips? ;)”

You squinted around the room trying to see if he had any cameras inside.

Arriving at the conclusion that he probably(hopefully) just got a notification from his door being unlocked, you texted him back.

“Got the day off, gonna wait here until you come back.”

You felt your phone vibrate a few more times after you tucked it back into your pocket, you made your way to his fridge.

Wishing he could see your face of absolute disbelief at the sight of his pathetic fridge.

Empty. Entirely empty, aside from a few apples.

Who lives like this?

Does this man live off of apples?!

You placed all the tupperware you had prepared ingredients in, in his fridge.

Some rice, boiled veggies and proteins.

You’d have to give him a good talking to about this later.

A weird feeling settled in your chest, realising he only really takes good care of himself when you’re around, which is also just a by-product of him taking care of you.

With a sigh you closed his fridge, one more lunchbox remaining at the bottom of your bag.

Still ignoring the messages he had sent you, you left his apartment again.

Caleb was lounging in his office, he still had some time before he had to attend another meeting with the other Colonels and their subordinates.

He was wondering why you weren’t answering him, he was about to check the cameras around his apartment, when a knock resounded in his office.

He put his phone away, knowing he was about to get busy again.

-

His authoritative steps echoing through the emptying hallway.

The nurses and soldiers hurrying off after seeing his annoyed expression.

He paid them no mind, as he unlocked the door to his office.

As soon as he stepped inside, he took his hat off, running a hand through his hair.

Caleb couldn’t care less what the other people working there thought of him.

He gets his work done and he gets it done well.

Nothing else mattered, yet he couldn’t help but feel annoyed at these stuck up old men who dared to doubt his capabilities, be it out of sheer jealous or fear.

They got another thing coming, if they think they could mess with him.

He doesn’t take lightly to his duties, and he doesn’t take lightly to protecting you.

You. That’s who all this was about.

He would put up with about anything, as long as it meant you’d be safe.

Because you were everything to him, his sweet pipsq-

He lost his train of thought as he spotted the silly lunchbox sitting on his desk.

A pattern of red and green apples on it, decorated with stickers that had started to wear off.

It’s your old lunchbox.

He looked around his office, a grin finding its way onto his lips.

You’ve always been a sly one.

He sat down in his chair, inspecting the childish box.

As he took a look inside he was hit by the smell of braised chicken wings.

But he immediately lost interest in the food as soon as he saw the note you had snuck inside of the box.

“Learned from the best.

Eat well and rest well, Caleb.

Or you’ll have to face my fury >:(“

He chuckled to himself, you managed to get into his office undetected, just to drop off some lunch for him?

Caleb loved taking care of you.

It’s what he lived for, but he couldn’t lie.

He liked the feeling of you looking out for him as well.

You always manage to make all his doubts and worries disappear.

He’ll have to get creative with thanking you later.