#so yeah i know just a few of the things they mention and have to imagine everything else based on nothing lol

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 4 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 5.0k (can you see the trend)

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), still a lot of cussing, some mature themes (no smut, sorry), we're finally in the headquarters!, the story moves significantly along here (i think)

a/n. this one took a second to get out, but i hope the wait was worth it! we're going knee-deep into the storyline, so brace yourselves for the nitty gritty. the dialogue here was too fun to write tho lol

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

Neither of you says anything about what happened.

After you used your quirk on Masaki and the rest of his crew, eventually convincing them to let you take off the bugs and censor the cameras in the evenings, you and Bakugou were briefed about a few more details before you went your separate ways, returning home to pack up your things and spend your last night alone for the foreseeable future.

The trek back to the subway station was quiet, with Bakugou leading the way and you trailing a few feet behind. The silence that enveloped the both of you bordered on tense more than awkward, and you itched to confront him about unceremoniously jumping you, but restrained yourself at the looming thought of the trackers planted firmly against your chest.

As much as it pained you to think about it, from this point on, you have to work double time on biting your tongue and watching your words. Just your words and location—if you’re lucky—but your facial expressions and movements, too, when there are cameras around.

Fortunately, there weren’t any when Bakugou didn’t step out of the carriage just as the automated voice announced his stop, nor when he wordlessly got out of the train beside you at yours. Your face contorted in evident confusion in those two instances, to which he only tossed you silencing looks. It didn’t take long for you to realize it’d be suspicious if Bakugou didn’t see you home—his alleged girlfriend—this late into the night.

And so you rolled with it.

You even went ahead and thanked him with the sweetest possible voice you can muster when you reached your front door, as well as wished him a safe trip back home. You think you caught him off guard, but he was able to quickly gather himself and mutter back a few words of gratitude before telling you to get a good night’s rest.

You couldn’t.

Aside from the paranoia that came with knowing someone or some people were listening to your very breathing, the anxiety about this whole mess that you’ve walked into was too palpable for you just to ignore. You tossed and turned for what felt like hours—brain buzzing with a hundred what-ifs and hypothetical scenarios—before you eventually knocked out at around 3 AM.

You promptly woke up at 7 AM a few hours later, albeit begrudgingly and all thanks to your bothersome alarm tone. You had to show up at work, despite it being a Saturday, to file an indefinite leave as soon as possible. Annoyance shot through you as you remembered Kouki’s dismissive remark about your job in contrast to Bakugou’s.

You shook it off.

There were more important things to deal with, such as the guilt that bloomed in your gut as you turned in the paperwork to Yuzuki, your school’s HR personnel, who, at the sight of them, visibly deflated.

“You’re going on a leave?” she asked that cool morning, incredulous and tone somewhat begging you to say no.

“Yeah…” you replied, rubbing the back of your neck sheepishly.

“But why?” she pressed, sitting up behind her desk that’s riddled with knickknacks and picture frames of her and her toddler. “You never take off from work. And,” she enunciated, “…the kids need you, Y/N.”

Your polite smile faltered at the mention of the kids.

“Yeah, well…” you started, unsure of what to say next. “I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding a temp, what with the recent licensure exam results. The kids won’t even notice I’m gone, I promise.”

She cocked her head to the side, frowning. “I highly doubt that.”

It didn’t matter if she had her doubts, though, because this was happening. You braced yourself to tell Yuzuki just that, but to your relief, she didn’t push further after that exchange, opting to half-heartedly process your request instead.

By the time lunchtime rolled around, you were already cleared by her department and now officially on a short indefinite leave without pay.

In an attempt to take your mind off of potentially losing your job, you stopped by the grocery store on your way home and picked up a few items, such as toiletries and other things you may need for your stay in the headquarters. There was no telling when you’d get to shop for your necessities again, so you went full ham and spent the money you usually budgeted meticulously to the nearest cent. Besides, if you succeeded in this mission, you wouldn’t have to worry about finances for the next year, at the very least.

You were about to head to the check-out counter when your eyes caught the display of…house slippers in the back aisle.

You paused at the sight of them.

If you were going to be under house arrest, you might as well be cozy while doing so.

Before you could talk yourself out of it, you grabbed a beige pair for yourself, and a black pair for Bakugou. You had no idea what his feet size was, but those were the largest they carried, and so that’d have to do. Plus, you doubted quirk supremacists were mindful enough to provide their hostages with comfortable footwear.

It was already around 4 PM when you arrived home with your arm-numbing groceries and takeout dinner in tow. Setting them aside by your kitchen counter, you quickly got started on gathering your necessities. You blasted your favorite album as you packed your suitcase partly to make the arduous process more bearable, but mostly to drown out the voices that fought to take the reins in your head. You were nervous—very much so—but there was no going back from this.

And so with a heavy heart and a churning stomach, you swiftly got to work, and by dinner time, you were already packed up and ready to go. After going through your checklist one more time and confirming that everything was accounted for, you got changed into fresh, more appealing clothes and scarfed down the meal you purchased to-go after shopping.

You sat in your living room with all your things stacked beside you on the couch, waiting, though it didn’t take long for Kouki to materialize by the kitchen with that irritatingly haughty expression on his face.

You tried to ignore the disgust that sprung as you watched him step on your freshly washed rug with his booted feet, choosing to shift your attention upwards instead. You observed him as he eyed your belongings with mild disinterest, before shifting to regard you.

“Ready?” he asked, holding up one hand for you to take, while the other moved to touch the pile of stuff.

You didn’t bother to verbalize your consent, resorting to just nodding as you gingerly took his hand. Your surroundings instantly morphed the moment that you did, and you found yourself going through the now-familiar motions, emerging smack dab in the middle of your floor’s hallway a few seconds later.

Kouki was gone just as quickly as he arrived, apparently way above helping you move your things to the space at the end of the hall. The same goes for the twins, who only watched you as you lugged your baggage into the room.

You locked eyes with the female guard, and for a second, you debated engaging her in conversation.

You already knew what to say. You’d ask her if they were sure about you staying in, when Kouki can just teleport you to your respective apartments at the end of each day if they’re so worried about you getting spotted.

Besides, you thought as she glared at you with seemingly unfounded hate, that means we’ll be out of your hair.

But as tempting as it was to bring up that alternative at the moment, you ultimately thought better against it.

You already used your luck to convince them to turn off the trackers at night—something they probably wouldn’t do if you and Bakugou lived outside due to the lack of backup surveillance. It simply wouldn’t be smart and cautious of them if they did. You also didn’t want to undo that already tall order of a bargain when what you needed the most was the privacy in which you could discuss the mission and steps moving forward.

Besides, you bet your money it’s not just that. The teleportation quirk of that old geezer has to have a limitation somehow…

You let all these simmer in your head as you settled in for the night. To your chagrin—you wanted at least one night where you get to sleep on the decent-looking bed—Bakugou showed up not an hour later with his own luggage.

You didn’t say anything to each other aside from brief ‘Hey’s’ as he entered the room and unpacked his belongings, as well as when he disappeared into the small comfort room and showered.

You decided then and there that you both had to work on your conversing skills if you wanted a shot at making this ruse believable for the sake of the mission.

By the time he stepped out of the bathroom, decked out in lounge clothes and haphazardly drying his ash-blonde hair with a towel, it was already 8 PM sharp—your agreed-upon time to retreat for the night and consequently, remove your trackers.

And so you wordlessly filed out of your room, only to see the twins already at your front door, waiting. You doubted they ever left their post ever since you arrived.

You eyed the male twin as he sashayed into your room before his sister called you to attention. Other than that, the exchange was nothing but silent and perhaps a little bit hostile as the woman roughly stuck her hand up Bakugou’s shirt then yours, similar to last time, and removed the devices. You fought back a wince just as she ripped it from your skin, leaving a stinging feeling in its wake.

You could tell she was resisting the urge to shove you back to your room when the deed was done. You didn’t want to risk being her punching bag, so with a curt nod, you promptly turned back and once again entered the room, with Bakugou following you just as the other twin exited and closed the door behind him. Looking up, you immediately registered how the cameras were now facing down—covered—and the red, flickering lights were nowhere to be seen.

An instantaneous wave of relief flooded through you.

Bakugou must’ve noticed, because he whipped to face you, and the disturbed expression on his face was enough to shut you up.

He tilted his head, perhaps gesturing to the rest of the room, and it took you a second, but you eventually managed to make out what he was trying to say.

Shut your trap, his icy stare told you. Check the room for bugs.

And so with a nod of understanding, you tossed him a look right back before quite literally turning the room upside down. It probably took you at least 10 minutes to uncover and check every surface, nook, and cranny, but by the time you both were pretty sure you were safe, you were already stifling a yawn.

And having a hawk eye must come with the job description, because that didn’t go unmissed by the pro-hero, who wordlessly took one of the two pillows from the bed, as well as the throw blanket on top of the actual duvet cover, before tossing both on the brown couch.

You were just about to thank him for preparing your ‘bed’ for you, but you didn’t get to, because you were very much robbed of all words when he plopped himself down on the couch, wrapping himself with the quilt.

“What are you—”

“Don’t argue,” he cut you off, his commanding tone comically juxtaposing how snug he looked with his head barely peeking out of the cloth. You’d laugh at the way his large feet were poking out at the end of it if you weren’t in a contentious mood.

You frowned. “You’re the guest of honor. I should be the one sleeping on the couch.”

“If it bothers you that much—” Bakugou piped from where he laid comfortably on the (p)leather furniture, “—we can take turns. Tomorrow, I get to sleep on the bed, and so on.”

“But—”

“Conversation’s over. ‘Night.”

With that, Bakugou flipped on his side, turning his back against you, effectively shooting the conversation down in its entirety.

You stood there for what felt like a couple more minutes, keen on shaking him awake, maybe even yanking him off the couch and planting yourself on it before he could wrap his head around what was happening, but you ultimately decided to let it go, at least for now.

You wished him a good night as you turned off the lights and snuck into the queen-sized bed a few moments later, although you bet he was already fast asleep based on the lack of a reply.

Which was good for him, because he needed the rest for what was about to crash into you the next day.

Apparently, Masaki wasn’t kidding when he said groups like theirs needed the space to conduct their activities, because they sure handle a lot.

At 8 AM, you were roused awake by a violent knocking on your door, and you could tell Bakugou was awoken by the very same thing, because he shot up in alarm just as you did. You quickly got up and padded to the entryway, trying to ignore the silly embarrassment of being seen in your threadbare pajamas in broad daylight, before whipping to look at the man. You didn’t have to say it, though—Bakugou was already grabbing his pillow and blanket and plopped into the bed, lying down as if he was there the entire night. Only when he was fully settled did you turn the knob open, only to see the female twin scowling at you. Her hand was held up, on top of which were two trackers.

“It’s breakfast time,” she spat out—literally, some of her saliva landing on you. She looked over your shoulder to glare at Bakugou. “Hurry up and get ready. You’ve got a full day ahead of you.”

Behind you, a distinct grumble sounded out across the room, and you glanced back to see Bakugou getting up from the mattress and folding his blanket, a deep frown etched on his sharp features.

Looks like someone’s a morning person, you thought to yourself.

Not wanting to aggravate her even further, you wasted no time in getting dressed and presentable enough. You debated on whether or not to spend five minutes putting on makeup, ultimately deciding to do so, with you ending up patting on just enough product to look eye-catching before you and Bakugou went down to the mess hall to eat breakfast.

Immediately upon entering the space, you found yourself thankful for that extra five minutes because all eyes were on you. Well, maybe more on Bakugou, but they inevitably drifted to you, the person who walked next to him side by side. You could hear the people whisper to themselves as you moved to sit at the table near the back, before it hit you and you froze.

“What?” asked Bakugou from across you, who followed suit and paused, butt hanging mid-air.

“Come and sit next to me,” you blurted out, and before he could react in a way that would incriminate you both: “I want to sit beside you, babe.”

Bakugou’s eyes widened ever so minutely at the pet name, his face then sobering up as if he just realized what you were trying to do.

You wished you could spell it out for him, that couples tend to sit next to each other rather than across, and…you needed to seem like one who is head over heels for each other around these people as well. Thankfully, you didn’t have to, because Bakugou merely nodded without question, before rounding the table and seating himself right next to you.

You did your best to tune out the looks and murmuring throughout the entire meal, after which you got swept to one of the halls for an introductory talk for the new members. There were eleven of you in total, including you and Bakugou, the rest of whom you didn’t recognize. They didn’t even hide their surprise and awe when the two of you walked in and sat yourselves at the farthest row beside each other. You tried to radiate an aura of friendliness, smiling at the others when they looked at you, and then beaming at Bakugou whenever you caught him looking your way.

You could tell he was having a hard time playing the part, his smile strained whenever he attempted to return the motion. It was probably after the third time of trying to get a reaction from him when you mustered the courage to bring a hand to his shoulder, kneading the muscle as a form of an affectionate gesture, but mainly to get him to relax. He initially tensed at the contact, but eventually loosened up as you continued the action.

Soon enough, the talk commenced, with someone you didn’t know presenting himself as Kazuma, one of the officers of the organization. He went on to formally introduce the association, named The Quirk Coalition, as a group of like-minded individuals who aim for a future where quirks are nurtured and fostered to their fullest potential in a democratic society that puts a primacy on said powers. You noted how they conveniently left out the part where they detest the weak and the quirkless, although you did not comment on it. You only glanced at Bakugou one time, who looked onto the stage with tight lips.

Kazuma also went through the hierarchy of the organization, starting with Masaki at the top just as you suspected, then Sayaka and Kouki, followed by Hiroto and Omiru—the two who you recognized as the twins, looking like they just got their mugshot taken in the photos. Kazuma sat there at the lower tier alongside several other officers, under which were the regular members, totaling about 70—some of whom live in the headquarters and most going in and out, having normal jobs during the day and families to tend to.

You don’t know how they got it, but at the bottom row of the chart was a picture of you, right beside Bakugou dressed in his full hero gear.

You let the reality sink in as Kazuma droned on about the group’s beliefs, how they equally valued their ideals and the people who carried out these ideals. You made a mental note of this piece of information, before accidentally zoning out for the rest of the lecture.

The next seven days went on roughly the same way, with either of the twins serving as your unfriendly alarm to demonstrating PDA in the mess hall during breakfast, lunch, and dinner, with talks, history classes, support group sessions, and even quirk training nestled in between mealtimes.

You and Bakugou went through every single thing together, from sitting out the ‘classes’ where the teachers essentially waxed poetic about rewritten history with a strong bias against the quirkless, to attending what felt like group therapy where you each took turns sharing your ambitions and goals as members of the organization. Bakugou even partook in one of the quirk training sessions, wherein he practiced shooting precise targets while propelling himself in the air.

You couldn’t decide if he was trying to act all serious for the mission or was just showing off—could’ve been both, really, but regardless, his efforts were enough to catch the eyes of the fellow members working on their respective quirks. You, on the other hand, sat to the side and watched the pro-hero do his thing, not being able to ‘practice’ anything without a partner to ‘boost’—or really, manipulate.

Needless to say, you’ve both been busting your ass pretending to be eager, dedicated members, but aside from the information readily provided in the forums, you haven’t had much luck extracting details that could prove to be useful for the mission, a fact that you’re now planning to bring up with Bakugou, a full week into moving into the headquarters…

…After you finish checking the bedroom for bugs.

It’s become some sort of an unspoken nightly routine for the both of you. The second the door shuts behind you after the trackers have been taken off and you’ve checked that the cameras are pointed downwards, capped, and are not blinking anymore, you go to your respective halves of the room and thoroughly check each inch for a wiretap. Neither of you dare to say anything compromising until you’ve completed the survey, and even then you’ve telepathically agreed to watch your choice of words.

Still, you can’t deny the familiar sense of reprieve whenever this time of the day comes along, and you’ve since associated these moments with Bakugou with comfort.

Which is probably why you have the audacity to joke around.

“Are they comfy?” you ask just as you plaster your butt down into the couch. You’ve had your fun yesterday, sleeping easily in the soft bed. You watch Bakugou as he eyes you warily, sitting on the edge of the mattress, facing you.

He huffs, crossing his legs. “Are what comfy?”

You point to his feet with your lips. “The slippers. They were buy one take one, you know.”

At that, he smirks. You can’t help but feel your own smile growing.

“I don’t think that’s something you should be bragging about, princess.”

Flying right past the tail end of that sentence for your sanity, you force a frown on your face. “Why not? It was a great deal. And, I’m sure yours are comfy. Mine are.”

He leans back on his hands that are firmly planted at his sides. He’s still smirking. “So why bother asking me in the first place if you already knew the answer to the question?”

You open your mouth to retort a witty comment, but come up short. Bakugou’s smirk morphs into a grin when you do. You wrinkle your nose in disdain, “I was just trying to make small talk. You’re welcome, by the way.”

The pro-hero only chuckles at that, before sitting up and bringing his hands forward, one holding and wringing the other arm’s wrist.

You study him for a beat, and then the cameras, which are still turned down and capped with a lens cover.

And when he only continues the rotating motion, you finally speak up.

“…What are we gonna do now?”

Bakugou’s eyes shift upward from his wrist to look at you, the softness that was just in his gaze a second ago now replaced by his trademark caution. You try not to focus on the disappointment of having caused that, as well as the misplaced longing for what was once there.

It takes him a while to reply, his features contorted into a look of deep thought. But when he does so, he straightens his back. “We—”

A barrage of heavy knocks resounds from the door, startling both of you and cutting Bakugou off. It’s immediately followed by a gruff voice, which you can now easily recognize as Hiroto’s.

“You’re not making any noise,” comes his bite, although it’s slightly muffled. “You better think twice about planning something behind our backs, you two.”

You roll your eyes. You understand any hostility coming from the members, as you and Bakugou come with risks that can potentially harm the organization that they hold dearly. But even you can say that the twins are taking it a bit too far with the harsh treatment.

If you didn’t know any better, you’d think their being extra hard on you has something to do with Masaki agreeing with the off-surveillance.

“Fucking relax,” Bakugou seethes in their direction. “Just because we’re not audibly having sex doesn’t mean we’re talking shit.”

You snort. Bakugou whips to look at you, the corners of his lips upturned.

That seems to put a plug on Hiroto, because the man doesn’t say anything after that. Once again, you’re met with silence, with you and Bakugou sitting on your respective furniture, looking at anything but each other.

It’s him, though, who finally breaks it a few minutes later with a clear of his throat.

“We keep at it—” Bakugou starts carefully, “—is what I was trying to say earlier. They’re gonna discuss the plans with us sooner than later.”

…Patience, huh?

You can do that.

Nodding, you adjust your position on your seat. You don’t dare to ask him to expound or add your own thoughts on the matter. Better to be safe than sorry, even though you’re pretty sure your room is free of bugs.

So instead, you finally give in and steer the conversation to something that’s been plaguing your mind ever since the commission kidnapped you a little over a week ago.

“Bakugou,” you begin, and he looks at you expectantly. You gulp. “Can I ask you something?”

He doesn’t miss a beat. “Depends on the question.”

“…So might as well shoot your shot,” he finishes when you don’t say anything.

Well, then.

You blurt it out before you can talk yourself out of it.

“Don’t get me wrong, alright? I know you’re strong and all that. But…” you trail off, fixing your eyes on him, “Why did they specifically want you of all heroes?”

Almost instantly, Bakugou’s smug expression is wiped off his face just as it falls.

You scramble to backtrack.

“Sorry if that’s too invas—”

“Are you sure we were batchmates?” he cuts you off, a brow raised in question. “Back in UA?”

You stare at him. Where is he going with this?

“Yeah?” you reply, not at all willing to try and jog his memory with the only prominent exchange between the two of you. So instead, you toss the query back at him: “Why?”

“Because if we were, you would’ve heard about the rumors about me, unless they weren’t as widespread as I thought.”

You feel your brows furrow. “Rumors?”

He peers at you for what feels like an eternity, before shaking his head in what you think is resignation. His body language has changed drastically, you note—the distinct confidence from earlier now long gone, having been replaced with…shame?

He heaves a deep breath.

“I was a bully,” he finally declares, meeting your gaze. “I bullied someone for being quirkless. I guess you could say I had a…” he hesitates, as if he’s trying to filter his words,” …certain mindset up until late into our first year.”

He shakes his head again, which is now bowed down toward the floor. “I did some pretty…awful stuff, to say the least.”

And before you can say anything, he beats you to it. “And don’t ask me about what I did.”

“I wasn’t going to,” comes your speedy response. That causes him to look up again and at you, a surprised look written on his face.

“Well, that’s a first.”

“I don’t have to know,” you reason, schooling your features into a neutral, even sincere expression. “Besides, I can clearly see there’s remorse. There’s no need to reopen that can of worms, especially if you’ve tried to make amends.”

You pause, eyeing him. “Have you?”

He tosses you a look of offense, as if you just accused him of being a serial killer. “Of course. And he’s forgiven me. What do you take me for?”

“Someone who feels remorse—” you chuckle, “—just like I said.”

He shoots you a glare, although it’s playful and has no bite to it. “Smartass.”

You grin at him. “I am smart, aren’t I?”

Bakugou doesn’t verbalize his agreement, but he doesn’t deny it either. Instead, he turns the table on you.

“You’re a guidance counselor, aren’t you? You use your quirk on your clients?”

You gasp, insulted. That grants you a smirk from him. “No! Of course, not. What do you take me for?”

He shrugs, “What? It makes sense to me.”

“So should this thing called ethics, which I follow and is very important, especially for people like me who work in the mental health field.”

That doesn’t seem to convince him. “Why’re you in this field, then? If not for its compatibility with your quirk?”

You think about it for a beat.

“I guess you can say my quirk did play a part in all of this, but not as my crutch,” you eventually explain. “Using it made me realize how much I like making people feel and do better, which is something that I now do with evidence-based techniques as a counselor. Plus, my job trains me in identifying emotions, which, you know…”

—helps with maximizing your quirk.

But you don’t say it out loud for fear of getting exposed, and it seems like that’d be unnecessary, because understanding flashes across Bakugou’s eyes. He nods, and that’s all you need to know he gets what you’re leaving unsaid.

“That’s a pretty noble cause,” he offers, although it comes out a bit awkward.

Still, you flash him a genuine smile. He looks away.

…Right at the wall clock, which now reads a little too late o’clock.

“You should get some sleep,” says Bakugou just as you are about to tell him the very same thing.

And when you don’t respond: “Are you sure you wanna sleep on the couch?”

‘What, are you proposing we share the bed?’

…Is what you would say if you were a fucking lunatic, which you’re glad you aren’t, because you don’t know how you’d survive this hell of a mission if you were.

Instead, you nod, shooting him a grateful look as you move to lay back and drape the blanket over your body. “Bask in the luxury of a proper mattress, your highness.”

You don’t get to see his reaction anymore in your new position, but you bet your cheap but surprisingly ergonomic slippers that he’s grinning with the way he snorts loudly.

“Stupid.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

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[vxsellie]

would you be willing write bodyguard!ellie x burlesque!reader fic??? or ellie could literally be whatever i have no preference!! 🪲

┆𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞𝐬 - E.W ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆₊˚. ᵎᵎ

♯ 𝘪'𝘥 𝘴𝘶𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘪𝘧 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘮𝘦

𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘥 𝘥𝘰 𝘵𝘰 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 !

summary. to become a vedette was the dream of many ⎯ including yourself. unfortunately, though, you learned the hard way that some dreams were meant to remain fanciful. because, once achieved, the reality of such an industry was far from what you'd imagined it to be. as your underground burlesque club rose in popularity, you alongside it, your personal safety began to deteriorate. in an attempt to salvage yourself from the predatory audience, a bodyguard was hired. notes. the way pink won by 1.1% is so funny to me, but pink it is! also! i had no idea what a burlesque dancer was before this. i did tons of research and watched tons of videos, but in no way whatsoever is this historically accurate. burlesque was popular from 1860s-1930s, getting most traction in the 70s. but i'm frankly a bit shitty at history, so i don't really know what the world was like in the 1800s, so i set this oneshot in the 1920s bc i have the most prior knowledge on that time frame. but, again, this is NOT historically correct whatsoever. certain things i mention might not even be invented at that time, the way people talk might be super incorrect, etc etc etc. so pls just have that in mind. warnings. mentions of assault, illegal selling & purchasing of alcohol, depictions of violence and blood, injury, suggestive ending wc. 8.2k

when ellie accepted this job, she hadn't expected to be roped into such deep shit.

she'd envisaged being dragged through shops and taverns with some random rich transient, told to scare off some creeps, then fired once the opulent stranger grew bored of her monotonous company. what she hadn't expected was you ⎯ someone completely ordinary among passerbyers whilst simultaneously being the most powerful and sought after woman come nightfall.

you own a club, you see, having started your business two decembers prior to present. it began small, only a few people visiting due to mere curiosity and rarely returning. struggling to amass a crowd, you became your own patron; you became a burlesque dancer at your own cabernet. this quickly gained the attention of those who dared wander into the debauched street where your club resides. an underground business run by the alluring woman advertised ⎯ what promiscuous standee wouldn't be intrigued? plus, by the time you were making hundreds nightly, you were in too deep to quit as a dancer. those who visited did so for you. to turn only to a business woman was out of the question.

but, as stated, your club was underground and therefore unknown by the average citizens, only spoken of by those sinful enough to indulge. this way, you were a mysteriously rich woman by day and a desirably powerful one by night. it wasn't exactly what you'd intended to become when first creating your business, but you'd be a fool to complain when making such wealth.

however, nothing ignominious lasts long before the reason for such shame rears its beastly head.

and when it did, you were unable to escape unscathed. you'd been cornered in an alley on your way home, pinned to a brick wall by one of your frequent customers, barely having gotten away intact. after landing a solid hit to the back of his skull with a nearby object turned weapon, you staggered the rest of the way home. a bruise was forming on your jaw from the perpetrator's aggression and a small cut was trailing blood down your bicep from your own lack of attention to your surroundings as you'd accidentally scraped yourself on a stone as you ran from the scene. yeah, so, that's when you made the decision that you needed a bodyguard.

when ellie first laid her eyes on you, she recognized you in an instant. see, she'd never been to your burlesque club on her own; she didn't much care for that form of self deprecation. rather, she'd heard your name spoken many times before by disreputable miscreants and seen your face on a few posters in the more shady parts of town.

tonight was her first official night to be spent with you. the two of you had met once or twice beforehand, getting the payments and conditions in check as well as making her sign and NDA for fear of her causing your cabernet to be found. though, she'd never seen your house and you'd never seen hers, the two of you having met in public settings such as bakeries or parks to discuss such matters. it was entirely professional.

but tonight, now that everything has been put in order, she is to accompany you to the bar. you already told her what you expected of her ⎯ blend in with the crowd and keep watch from afar, only intervene if deemed absolutely necessary. yes yes, she replayed the sentence over and over in her head, just to be sure it's cemented into her memory. totally not because she likes to replay the smoothness of your voice nor the gentility of your tone when attempting to speak quietly as to not draw attention. yeah, no. definitely not that.

"fuck, it's cold." she hisses, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders as the two of you walk down the sidewalk. your sparkly heels click against the concrete with your every step, only visible under the dull illumination of the sparse streetlights. you're wearing a long coat that covers your neck down to your mid-calf, black in color yet thin in efficiency. "i dunno how you're not freezing your ass off, right now." she comments through chattering teeth.

you huff a laugh, "suppose i've grown used to it."

the air is frigid, your breaths coming out in puffed clouds. snow has yet to fall, but it's surely not far from doing so. the night is black, shadows looming over shabby buildings ⎯ venturing from the rich side of town where you live to the more decrepit side of town where law enforcement is thinned and as is people's class. the perfect place for a speakeasy.

you turn down a random alley where streetlights no longer provide a blanket of comfort. ellie trails behind you, entire body shivering as she takes in her foreign surroundings. on either side are sordid buildings, the brick chipped and paint flaking and wood rotting.

the sound of knocking draws her attention back to you, gaze landing on where you now stand at the very end of the alley. she jogs over to you just in time to hear your knocking in a certain pattern on an old wooden door that she hadn't noticed prior. there's not even an exterior handle, the door almost invisible when paired with the darkness of the alley and its similarity to the wall that embodies it.

knock knock, knock. a pause. creaking.

the door opens with a creak, a man's head peeking out the crack. he sets his eyes on you and instantly swings it open fully to allow you entry. you nod at him before sauntering past. ellie continues to trail behind you, though she's stopped when the man holds out an arm across her chest.

his hair is long and greasy, thick brows overhanging deep brown eyes. a miasma of alcohol and cigarettes clouds him in the form of a malodorous aura. ellie's nose crinkles as she scowls at him.

"not you." he says coldly, shoving her back outside into the alley. she staggers backward, the cold air clinging to her. anger licks up her spine at the aggression of his shove, but she buries it as soon as you enter the scene.

"fuck off, george, she works for me." you huff, moving past him to open the door wider for ellie. she glares at george as she passes, entering the cabernet with a distasteful expression. as she walks past the entrance, you remain in the doorway to reprimand your employee. she'd usually mind her business but, seeing as it's her job to be in your business, she remains closeby as you harshly explain the situation him.

ellie looms over you like an intimidating shadow as you rebuke george. she doesn't listen into the conversation, well aware of it not being her concern. still, she watches him closely, daring the man to step a toe out of line. thankfully, he seems to know better.

a few minutes pass before the two of you leave him to enter the cabernet fully. ellie takes in the sight of the place, never having been inside of one before. the floors are wooden and glossy, laid in a diamond pattern. the walls are satin, embedded with intricate golden designs. there are circular tables crowding the space, all faced toward an elevated stage, which ellie assumes is where the burlesque dancers preform. to the left is a bar, a woman behind the counter serving alcohol to a few people ⎯ though there aren't many customers seeing as the star of the show hadn't yet arrived. to the right are bathrooms and dressing rooms for the dancers.

the rest of the night is spent rather normally. you do your job as usual, dancing suggestively whilst telling satire stories to keep the guests entertained. as the night goes on, the tables fill and the bar grows impossibly busy, now needing extra employees to work behind the counter alongside the priorly singular barista.

ellie stands near the back, arms crossed as she watches over the scene. she tries her hardest not to get distracted by you; by the way your hips sway, the way your chest bounces, the way your legs move, the way your voice hums. all things considered, she'd say she did a pretty good job at the attempt. she averted her gaze more times than she can count, but that's to be expected, is it not?

thankfully, nobody tried anything. the drunken guests made lewd comments and lustful expressions, but never tried touching you or anything else out of line.

it's three hours past midnight when you decide it was time to head back home. as the crowd thins out, you retreat to your dressing room. ellie remains in the corner, standing around awkwardly as you exit the stage. she watches the people file out of the tiny door and into the darkened alley, cold air brushing inside via the opened door.

"so," your voice suddenly speaks, tone nigh a drawl. ellie turns her head toward the sound to see you buttoning your chesterfield coat as you approach. you shoot her a grin, "how was it?"

"good." she replies, perhaps a bit too hastily. she blinks a few times before clearing her throat, "it- uh, yeah. it was good."

you chuckle, walking toward the door as she follows behind you. "no need to be such a prude, williams. you sulked in the corner all night like a disciplined child. i just want to make sure you're not having second thoughts concerning your job."

"what?" she questions, head whipping to face you. "no, not at all! i've just never been to a place like this before, that's all. i don't know how to act."

the two of you pass through the doorway, george having held it open for you. the chill of the air traces up your spine, goosebumps coating your skin. you pull your coat tighter around yourself, though you're careful to not appear too cold as to avoid ellie's concern.

"well, if you'd like, i can help you in that endeavor." you say.

"help me?" she narrows her eyes in inquiry. "in making me feel less awkward?"

"in teaching you how to act." you correct with an amused expression, turning a corner. ellie's brows furrow, urging you digress. "look, there are tons of ways to blend in with everyone else. first of all, try looking a bit less flustered when seeing the dancers strip. second, uncross your arms for it makes you look displeased. third, sit down. you were standing against the wall the whole time and it's unnatural. just take a seat, buy a drink, and enjoy yourself."

she frowns, "easier said than done."

"you act like you've never seen a woman nude, williams." you say with a laugh. "maybe get a bit tipsy before the show and you'll feel more at ease, yeah?"

"i'm not allowed to be drunk on the job." she tells you. "i'm supposed to stay alert in the case of something happening."

you let out a sigh, carbon dioxide exiting visibly. "you won't be drunk, you'll just be a bit tipsy. plus, if you sit in the front, you'll be able to get to me quicker. that way, even if you're a bit disoriented, you'll have the upper hand in proximity's case."

ellie thinks on this for a moment, weighing her options. on one hand, she knows that bodyguard are not supposed to drink, smoke, or do anything else that could impair their ability to do their job. but on the other, you're the one pulling the strings here; she technically works for you. and you're asking her to drink. so, in a certain sense of things, who would she be to decline you?

"fine." she gives in. "but if anything happens to you and i'm too fucking wasted to help, i'll never forgive myself. or you."

you laugh, patting her arm lightly, "oh c'mon, i trust you'll be able to help me even if you're a bit drunk. also, nobody will do anything during the show. it's the before and after that we have to worry about; the spooky walk home in the dark."

she purses her lips at this, suddenly made aware of your guys' surroundings. you're walking along the same sidewalk you'd taken to get to the cabernet, your heels clicking with each step just as they had before. the streetlamps provide a dim yellow glow, but that's it. the moon is naught but a skinny crescent and the stars are rather dull. she'd been on edge, of course she had. but now that it's been spoken aloud to her attention, she's been made extra aware of it.

the rest of the walk back to your house was spent in easy conversation and light laughter. she glanced over her shoulder every few minutes, but nobody was ever behind you.

and, before long, the two of you've reached your destination ⎯ no longer surrounded by the shady alleys near your club, but now surrounded by huge mansions and cars, your own home among them.

"do you want me to walk you inside?" ellie offers as you fumble with your key to unlock your front door, your fingers too cold to operate fully. she notices, but says nothing on the matter.

"i can walk though my own house, williams." you laugh. "but thank you."

she nods, holding the door open for you once you've managed to get it unlocked. you give her a grateful smile before entering and she shuts the door behind you. as it clicks shut, she huffs out a breath.

standing on the porch of your mansion, she can't help but feel out of place here. not due to wealth but to merit. with a sigh, she turns on her heel and leaves your porch, descending the steps and beginning to walk down the sidewalk once more.

on her walk to her own house, she can't stop replaying the night over and over in her head ⎯ the sound of your laughter under the moonlight, the sight of your skin being teased to the audience. there's just something about you that she can't get out of her fucking head. it's only been one night and you've managed to drive her insane.

the following night is spent in a similar fashion. walking together to the cabernet, laughing and talking the whole way there, knocking a certain pattern on the decrepit wooden door, having to remind george that ellie is now allowed inside without payment.

"okay," you say, undoing the top button of your chesterfield coat as ellie trails behind you into the club. nobody else is here yet, the two of you having arrived earlier to make sure ellie can get front seats. "i'm heading back to the dressing rooms. while i do, you can go get a drink or two and sit down, yeah?"

"yeah." she's quick to agree with a nod.

"perfect," you smile, slipping your coat off your shoulders. ellie averts her eyes, cheeks suddenly feeling warm. you huff a laugh, "see you in a bit, williams."

with that, you walk over to the dressing rooms, disappearing behind a beaded doorway. now alone in the center of an empty club, ellie sighs before sauntering over to the bar. she perches atop a wooden stool, the fabric of its seat a thin velvet. she places her elbows on the shiny countertop, resting her chin in her palm.

she takes in the sight of the bottles behind the counter and the low lighting of the bar in general. despite it's prohibition, it's not rare to see alcohol. nobody really abides the law when it comes to intoxication. what's uncommon is to see so much of it. not only is it crazy expensive to buy booze nowadays, but it's also easier to be tracked down and apprehended for it if you have so much.

after a few minutes of wait, a barista eventually rounds the corner, approaching ellie with an apologetic expression. her fiery red hair catches the light, pale skin even paler as she rushes to tend to the customer. "i'm so sorry, ma'am." she rushes out while still tying her apron behind her waist. "i hadn't a clue someone would arrive so early."

"it's fine," ellie assures her, "i don't mind waiting if you need some more time to get ready."

"that's very kind of you." she smiles. "but no, i needn't more time."

ellie shrugs, accepting her response. she then turns back to looking at the bottles that line the wall behind the barista. "can i get the gin rickey?"

"of course." the ginger smiles before turning around to grab a bottle of gin alongside a glass from under the counter. she mixes the drink, adding lime juice and club soda before sliding it across the countertop.

see, ellie doesn't go out drinking often. especially not after the ban of alcohol, as it became harder to find. but she knows that gin rickey is a rather common drink within speakeasies, the taste and convenience of the drink making them quite popular at this time. so, she assumed it wouldn't hurt to see what was so great about it. and, needless to say, she comes to enjoy it.

as the club begins to fill up with guests, she decides it's time to take her seat in the front. ellie ends up having about three more drinks before taking a fourth to go, sauntering over to a table closest to the stage. the circular table is covered with a cream white cloth, the chair wooden with the same velvet cushion as the barstools.

there, she continues to sip on her drink as she awaits your arrival.

she feels her eyelids begin to weigh down a bit, her shoulders feeling uncharacteristically heavy. she recalls the conversation from last night and the way she had to remind you that she couldn't be too drunk on the job. she ends up having to remind herself of the same thing, telling herself that this is the last drink she'll be having for the night ⎯ enough to be more at ease as you'd requested, yet not too much that she feels unable to tend to you if needed. a perfect level.

people crowd the cabernet as it grows darker outside, guests rushing to the bar to get a free stool before they're all taken, then staggering over to an empty table once they're well inebriated.

when the first dancer walks onto the stage, the crowd cheers. she does a few dances, tells a few jokes, takes off her top, and then rotates for the next dancer to come forward. to ellie, it feels rather quick. but when she checks the grandfather clock against the wall, it'd apparently taken the dancer about half an hour before she leaves the stage.

the next dancer is a blonde woman who winks at ellie when she first comes out. the man behind ellie cheers loudly, almost making her go deaf with his boisterous assumption of the woman's favor. she does a more sensual dance than the woman prior to her, taking off her skirt and top, tossing them out to the crowd. she remains in her bra and panties, both of which are adorned with gems that twinkle in the spotlight.

ellie's instincts are to look away, to avert her gaze as to be respectful. but she recalls the way you'd made fun of her for doing so last night, calling her a prude. her cheeks heat as her mind traitorously reminds her of the sound of your laughter. evidently, the blonde dancer on the stage takes her blush as being directed toward her and she shoots her another wink, which leads to the man behind her cheering loudly again. ellie curse herself for the series of events and the way they'd played out so easily despite their involuntary origin.

as the blonde woman walks off the stage, she give one last wink in ellie's direction. she blows her a kiss, waving with her fingers before disappearing behind the curtains. the man behind her goes absolutely insane, ellie's ears ringing from his noisiness. she sucks in a breath, hoping this mistake doesn't lead to anything adverse.

the next and final person to take the stage is you.

the crowd goes crazy, you being the most popular vedette among all burlesque dancers in this city. they clap and cheer and whoop as you just smile and wave, heels clacking in that familiar pattern that reminds ellie of her walks with you. her face is suddenly heating up again. she curses herself mentally, picking up her glass and taking a long sip from her drink in hopes of the rim covering her reddened cheeks.

you move languidly, almost fluid in your leisure. your body shifts with ease, dancing in a sensual peace. your heels click, your hips sway, your hair cascades. everything about you is reeling ellie in, alluring and captivating yet seductive and lewd. she can't seem to tear her eyes away, memorizing every inch of your body as one would adore a piece of art. she takes in your body as though its made of brush strokes and paint and it could vanish in an instant.

you remove your top in one swift movement, pulling the fabric over your head and allowing it to fall to the floor with a gentle brush. the crowd cheers and ellie is painfully reminded that she's not the only one in here. though your chest remains covered by a frilly bra, she feels a weight in her belly at the sharp reminder ⎯ an aching possessiveness that yearns to be special, to be the only one to see you this way.

your eyes meet hers, something passing between you. something sharp and steady and intimate. something striking in its rarity. though, just as fast as it'd happened, it's gone. you turn away, shifting your gaze over the crowd as you continue to sway and oscillate.

ellie takes another swig of her drink, hoping to swallow down her rising emotions. hoping to drown them.

before she even realizes it, the clock strikes three and you're disappearing off the stage with a flourish. the crowd cheers as you walk away, whistling and whooping.

they all begin to slowly file out of the club once it's made aware that the show is over, taking their loud voices with them. of course, ellie doesn't follow suit. she stays seated, swirling the last drop of her drink around in her glass. she watches the liquid swish around, her drunken mind easily entertained by the sight.

when she hears footsteps exit the dressing room, she assumes it's you and turns around with a grin. her face quickly falls when she sees the blonde dancer from earlier walking up to her with a suggestive smirk.

"waiting for someone?" she questions, eyes glinting with a hint of lust.

"uh, yeah." ellie replies, far too awkward and drunk to think of something clever to say in response. her cheeks heat with embarrassment, though the blonde is quick to take it wrong.

"no need to be so flustered." she coos, walking over to where ellie remains seated. she places her hand on the table in front of ellie, leaning down so their faces are mere inches apart. in a gentle croon, she says, "i don't bite."

"well," ellie leans back a little to put distance between them, "i'm not-"

"ruth, leave her alone." your voice comes from the other side of the room, the sound of your heels serving as a bit of familiar comfort to ellie. the blonde woman lifts her head, expression falling when she sees you approaching.

"mind your business." the blonde ⎯ whose name ellie has gathered to be ruth ⎯ groans. "must you steal every person i show interest in?"

ellie opens her mouth to intervene, ready to say something to ease the nigh palpable tension in the air. but you beat her to it, not having noticed ellie's futile attempt to interrupt.

you roll your eyes, still buttoning the top buttons of your coat. "first of all, i've never stolen someone from you because i frankly don't give a shit. second, that poor woman is clearly not interested in you."

"don't speak for her when you don't even know her." ruth frowns, placing her hands on her hips. "and yes she is interested."

"how about you let her choose then." you suggest, crossing your arms after gesturing to ellie with raised brows. "maybe, for once, let the person you're bothering have a say in this."

"fine." ruth snaps, practically fuming at this point. despite her anger, she turns to ellie pleadingly. "tell her."

ellie almost feels bad for ruth. despite the way you'd insinuated that she has a history of not asking for people's opinions on matters such as these, she feels a bit guilty. she'd blushed at ruth multiple times ⎯ though they'd all happened to be unrelated. anyone would be able to get the wrong impression in ruth's position.

"listen, i'm just a bodyguard." ellie says carefully, holding her hands up in defense. "i'm not trying to sleep with anyone. i'm just⎯"

"bodyguard?" ruth mutters, brows furrowing. she glances between you and ellie, the dots slowly connecting. her lip then raises in disgusted rage. "what the fuck!? you hired a goddam bodyguard!"

"i was getting followed home." you explain, equally irritated though you attempt keep your tone calm.

"so just because you're the most fucking popular, you think your safety is more important than any of the other dancers!?" ruth seethes.

"don't put words in my mouth, asshole." you shoot back. "you can hire any bodyguard you fucking want, nobody's stopping you. it's not my fault i thought of it first and you happened to be fucking horny for who i hired."

as you and ruth continue to argue back and forth, the tension steadily rises higher and higher. ellie watches with wide eyes, trying to determine when exactly she should get involved. but, at the same time, you and ruth appear to have been working together for quite a long time, maybe this was an inevitable argument she should let happen? maybe she's just drunk and thinks that it's worse than it is? yeah. she leans back, settling with her decision to allow the two of you to just fight it out. it'll be good for you to⎯

her thoughts are interrupted when ruth snatches up ellie's glass and breaks it on the side of the table, the lip of it now a pointed blade that she holds out at you. it's sharp, the glass fully able to cut through skin if needed.

"ruth.." you breathe, holding your hands up in surrender. "ruth, just calm down..."

at the sound of glass breaking and your shaky voice, ellie is suddenly on her feet, putting herself between you and ruth. she holds an arm across your chest, acting as a human shield.

"get out of my fucking way." ruth snaps. "i don't wanna hurt you, just the cocky bitch you're protecting."

"put the glass down." ellie demands, voice suddenly lowered a few octaves.

the baristas are long gone, having left the club alongside the rest of the guests a good twenty minutes ago. the only person in here except for the three of you is george. he watches from the doorway, eyes wide and shoulders tense. he can't call the cops or the cabernet will be found out and promptly shut down. and he knows better than to get involved. so he's simply forced to watch from afar, poor guy.

ruth glares at ellie, sidestepping in an attempt to get to you. but ellie moves in unison, remaining in her way. ruth curses, jaw clenched. ellie holds you close to her, your chest flush against her back as she holds you by the wrist, her other arm out to ruth in a calming gesture which mirrors one that'd be used when approaching a feral animal.

"fuck you!" ruth spits at ellie, lower lips trembling. her grip on the glass shakes as well, though she remains holding it tightly. "i thought someone fucking liked me! for once, i thought someone would take interest in me! but no. no, i should've known. as always, you were more interested in her!"

"look, i understand you're mad, just⎯"

ellie's words are interrupted by ruth surging forward and stabbing the sharp end of the glass into ellie's thigh, yanking it back out and tossing the bloody glass to the floor.

ellie buckles over in pain, blood seeping down the leg of her pants. when she looks back up, ruth is already across the room, shoving past george as she runs from the scene. george is frozen in place, lips parted as he glances between ellie's bloody form and ruth's depleting one.

"fuck," you mutter, eyes wide as you move to pull out a chair for ellie to sit in. you hold onto her shoulders, helping to ease her into the seat. "fuckfuckfuck."

"calm down," ellie says between heavy breaths. her chest is heaving, her hand keeping pressure on the wound. despite the pain, she stares up at you with blown pupils and parted lips. "take a deep breath, i'm fine."

you shake your head, completely ignoring ellie's attempts to calm you. god, you can't fucking believe her right now. a shard of glass is on the floor, covered in her blood and here she is insisting she's fine. trying to keep you calm. you squeeze your eyes shut, pacing in circles as you try to formulate some sort of plan.

you can't call the police or your club will be revealed. but you also can't go home, wandering the streets with a girl bleeding out on your back. fuck. no matter what you do, it's incriminating.

your pacing ceases as an idea pops into your head.

"george." you call out over your shoulder. the man lifts his head, entire face having gone pale from the sight of all that's happened in front of him. "in the dressing room, under the vanity, there's a first aid kit. bring it to me."

george nods quickly, staggering away from his place by the door and heading toward the dressing room as asked. with him now gone to get the med kit, you turn back to ellie. you crouch down in front of her, your hands shaking as you reach forward to remove her own hand from the wound to examine its severity.

blood soaks her pants, almost coating her entire thigh crimson. the material is torn where the glass was inserted, showing where her skin is sliced right open. right across the muscle.

"okay," you breathe shakily, pressing your palm against the injury to prevent too much bloodloss. "okay, um-"

"calm down," she murmurs again, voice a bit groggy. "look, i'm fine. once george comes back with the med kit, i can patch myself up and i'll walk you home. how's that sound?"

"what!? no!" you shake your head at her incredulously. "no, i got you into this mess. the least i can do is help."

"but you don't have to." she insists. "i can stitch myself just fine, and-"

"ellie, shut the fuck up." you snap, her eyes widening at your sudden harsh tone. not only that but the sound of her first name leaving your lips makes her chest flutter. you shake your head, unaware of the bodily reaction you engendered. "i'll stitch you up, then i'll find some place for us to stay. somewhere nearby that won't ask a million questions."

"uh," she blinks, trying to remember what you guys passed on your journey here, trying her best to do something to help. "wait, yeah. i think saw a motel not too far from here. a block or two down the road, maybe?"

"oh, yes. perfect!" you grin up at her. "i know exactly what you're talking about. i know the owner, too. we might not even have to pay if i promise him free drinks."

ellie's face flushes at the sight of your smile. the combination of everything is getting to her. her inebriation, the feel of your hand on her thigh, the sight of your beaming smile. yeah, she's in fucking heaven.

it's a few minutes later when george returns with the med kit, his hands shaking slightly as he nears you and ellie. his widened eyes appear to be nigh incapable of looking away from her bloodied leg. he swallows harshly before placing the kit on the tabletop.

you offer him a soft smile, grabbing the kit from the surface. you open it as you speak. "thank you, george. you can go home now, if you'd like. get some rest."

"okay." he nods, frankly a bit frantic. "okay, just⎯ just let me know if you need anything, yeah?"

"yeah, of course." you assure him, watching as he rushes to leave the building, pulling on his coat as he shoves the door open. once it closes behind him, you turn back to ellie and the med kit.

one of your hands remains on ellie's thigh, keeping pressure on the open gash. the other pulls the kit into you lap, cracking it open before you sift through the contents. you can feel every movement ellie makes, every shift or wince or twitch. despite the situation being far less than ideal, it all feels oddly intimate. to be so close, to see her in such a vulnerable way. especially when you're now the only two people in the club. you shake your head to rid your mind of the thoughts clouding it.

you pull out a tube of antibiotic ointment, struggling to twist off the cap with one hand. ellie notices your struggle and leans forward, having to bury a wince as she does so.

"here," she says, placing one of her hands over yours as she takes the ointment from your grasp. she pops it open before handing it back to you. "no need to be so independent, you can ask me to open one measly tube."

"i don't want to ask you anything." you grumble, squeezing a drop of the ointment onto your forefingers. "you're wounded, let me do the work."

"you're acting like i lost a limb," she says with an airy chuckle, making you frown. "i have a cut on my thigh. i can still use my hands."

you remove your hand from the wound and begin to dab the ointment onto the reddened skin around it. ellie shivers, but says nothing. if anything, this should feel good. it's supposed to ease the pain and allow the injury to heal faster. as you continue to coat the gash in the ointment, you glance up at her. "maybe i'm not dramatic and you're just too calm, ever consider that?"

"there's no such thing as too calm." she defends herself, feigning a sense of untouchable pride.

you huff out a laugh, "oh shut up."

ellie can't help the way her eyes are pinned to your face, her pale green eyes studying every expression that grazes your features. every dip or crevice of your skin, every furrow of your brow, every twitch of your lips; she memorizes it all. and when you laugh? oh, when you laugh she swears her heart stops beating.

you twist the ointment closed, placing it back in the kit before digging through it for some bandages. you find a roll of gauze, frowning as you'd hoped to find a patch instead. but you can't complain too much as you're lucky to even have a first aid kit at all. in fact, you only bought one because one of the baristas sliced their hand open a few weeks ago and george insisted that it'd be a good idea to at least own bandaids. so, had this happened last month, ellie would have been fucked.

"okay," you mutter as you turn back to ellie, suddenly noticing her staring. you narrow your eyes at her playfully. "what is it?"

her cheeks burn bright red, blinking as she averts her gaze to look at something random on the wall over your head. "nothing, i just⎯ i really like that statue."

you raise a brow, glancing over your shoulder to follow her gaze. when you see the nude statue she was referring to, you almost laugh. it's a naked man, his legs spread seductively, his abs so sharp that it's literally impossible for a human to obtain. you turn back to her, her cheeks now even more red than before.

"fuck," she breathes, hanging her head between her shoulders in embarrassment.

you laugh, "you really like that statue, huh?"

"shut up." she groans, holding her face in her hands. "i wasn't even looking at that statue, i didn't know it was a naked dude."

you begin to unravel the gauze as you continue to tease her. you're well aware that ellie was staring at you. and the only reasons she'd try to hide that fact is if she either didn't mean to or if she's into you. and, as someone who's hit on almost daily, you're pretty skilled at noticing when someone likes you. and ellie has a bad crush. its kinda cute, so you decide to act oblivious, just to see how many lies she can make up.

"well, if you weren't looking at the state, what were you looking at?" you ask her, tilting your head to feign innocent curiosity.

"uh," she sputters, her cheeks so hot that it's painful. you raise your brow, urging her to respond. you notice that the tips of her ears are red as well and you almost feel guilty for teasing her like this. "i don't⎯"

"it's fine, ellie," you chuckle, tearing the gauze to have a long strip in your hand. "i'm just picking on you."

"oh. yeah. right." she nods, mentally cursing herself.

you glance back down at the gauze in your hand, shifting it around so it's ready to wrap around. you look back up at ellie before placing one hand under her knee and lifting it a bit. she winces and your heart clenches, "i know, i'm sorry, i just need to⎯"

"quit that," she murmurs, placing her own hand under her knee and pulling it a bit higher up so you can wrap the gauze around her thigh. "quit apologizing. you're helping me, there's nothing to be sorry for."

"for hurting you." you grumble, wrapping the gauze around her thigh thrice before tying it off onto itself and she eases her leg back down onto the chair.

"you're not hurting me," she chuckles. "my leg is hurting me. not you."

you laugh, "so now you're personifying your leg? how much did you drink?"

"hey, i'm trying to comfort you." she defends herself. "i'm not even drunk anymore. getting stabbed in the thigh sobered me up quite a bit, y'know."

you laugh again and ellie finds herself drowning in the wave of emotions that overcomes her. you're like a fucking tsunami of feelings, like an entire ocean coming to wash her away after having constructed a dam to keep them in. regardless of the prior amount, you're enough to overflow it. to take her by surprise and fucking waterboard her with your easy perfection.

"you're doing it again." you say, standing up from your crouched position. ellie looks up at you, her eyes following your every movement as though by instinctive impulse.

"doing what?" she asks dumbly.

you chuckle, holding your hand out to help her to her feet. "staring at the naked dude statue."

"oh no, please don't make that a thing." she groans.

"it's already a thing, baby." you respond as she takes your hand to aid her in hauling herself up. the sound of the nickname is enough to make her head spin, even more than it already is from having stood up so abruptly. her cheeks burn and you fucking love it. seeing ellie blush is your favorite way to see her; considering how stoic and indifferent she usually is, to see her flustered like this is surreal. and to be able to do it so easily, too? yeah.

ellie drapes an arm over your shoulders, using you as a crutch as the two of you stagger toward the door. you push it open with a boisterous creak, the frigid air stinging your cheeks and hands instantly. but the coldness isn't what shocks you. it's the small flakes of ice that dust through the air.

"it's snowing," you murmur, staring up at the starry sky in awe. a smile warms your features in spite of the chill. "oh, i've always loved the snow."

ellie, frankly, has never much cared for the snow. but the moment she sees you looking up at it like this, she can't help but see the beauty in it; rather the beauty that stands in it. but still, regardless of witticism, she ends up adoring the snow from this day on, the sparkly elegance of the flakes alluring against the biting shivery it induces. the way one is only able to within it for short increments almost adds to its magnetism, making one yearn for more whilst simultaneously rushing to be out of it.

the two of you saunter down the sidewalk toward the nearby inn you'd discussed priorly. ellie leans on you heavily, her limp slowing you down so it almost takes half an hour to walk two blocks. but, once you two finally arrive at the motel, the results are just as you'd hoped.

the innkeeper, once having recognized you, agrees to not ask questions nor to make you pay in exchange for a week of free alcohol at your cabernet. with that, he passes you a key and assigns you two a shared room down the hall.

the inn is old and dilapidated. the floorboards creak with each step, the windows are all stained and foggy, the wallpaper is torn and chipped in placed, cobwebs lining the corners and walls. but the room is, at least, a bit better than all else. there's a small dusty bed in one corner a dresser in the other. a small window files moonlight into the space, a chipped wooden nightstand to the side of the bed. you help to ease ellie onto the bed, the mattress creaking under her weight.

she tips her head back with a sigh, muscles relaxing against the mattress as she finds herself rather grateful to be able to rest her limbs.

"how's your leg?" you ask her tentatively, standing to the side of the bed wearing a weary expression. you're unsure on how to go about this; do you make jokes as to carry on with the usual badinage or do you take this seriously because she's fucking injured?

ellie glances up, the gentility of your voice almost foreign. when she sees your evident trepidation, she softens and pats the empty space on the mattress beside her. "who's the awkward one now?"

you huff out a laugh, "still you."

you step forward, the floor creaking noisily under your feet. though, if you found the floorboards to be clamorous, the bed is even worse. the mattress squeaks under you, springs poking through the thin material so you can feel them under your butt and thighs. it's extremely uncomfortable, but you say nothing.

ellie watches you closely, her eyes sharp and steady. once you're sitting beside her, your posture awkwardly straightened, she can't help but stare. you're still wearing your heels and frilly burlesque clothes, but your black overcoat shields the attire completely. but she knows what resides underneath and she almost aches to know of it.

"i'm never drinking alcohol again." ellie groans before flopping backward, the bed announcing her every movement. her legs remain hanging off the side, as she lands on her back, auburn hair splayed across the dusty duvet.

"how much did you even have?" you question, leaning back on your hand to loom over her face. "you didn't seem that drunk to me."

"four glasses of gin rickey." she says, narrowing her eyes as she attempts to do the math in her head to puzzle out the percentage. in the end, she gives up and just gazes up at you. "i just wish i was sober for your performance."

your cheeks suddenly feel hot at the insinuation. "it wasn't even that good."

"are you kidding?" she scoffs, in genuine disbelief at your statement. "you were fucking amazing tonight. literally all i could think was 'god, i wish i was sober so she wasn't so goddamn blurry'."

"seriously?" you laugh, unintentionally leaning a bit closer as you're caught up in the incredulous humor of her statement. despite your lack of attention, the act doesn't go unnoticed by ellie. every nerve in her body ignites as your face inadvertently grows nearer, her instincts screaming at her to reach out and touch you; nothing lustful about it, just the pure need to hold you. to be near you.

as your laughter dies down, you notice how close the two of you are. your breath hitches, but you don't move away. ellie looks so perfect like this, under you with her pupils all blown and her hair all unkempt. you find yourself staring at her.

"naked dude statue?" she whispers, the inside joke only adding to the intimacy of the moment.

you nod, eyes flicking between her eyes and her lips. in a whisper, you confirm, "naked guy statue."

honestly, looking back on it, that's a quite strange thing to say before kissing someone for the first time. but then again, nothing about yours and ellie's relationship is necessarily normal. she's your bodyguard and you're an esteemed stripper who sells illegal alcohol, for god's sake. not to mention, it's your second day of knowing each other and ellie has been stabbed with a shard of broken glass via your insane coworker.

but the details hardly matter in the moment of it. because everything else blurs when your lips meet hers, the entire world suddenly gone quiet. it begins gentle, her mouth barely moving as though she's scared to do something wrong. but once the two of you find a mutual rhythm, you're grabbing her face and shifting atop her.

she remains sprawled across the bed as you straddle her hips, knees placed on either side of her body. the kiss ventures farther from unsure benign and closure to vehement desperation. you cradle her face in your hands, her own hands coming up to hold you by the hips.

the flow is suddenly interrupted when you try to shift more comfortably, completely clouded by desire that you don't notice your weight being pressed against her wound. ellie's grip on your hips tightens, the kiss breaking as she yanks her head back in a wince. your eyes widen in realization, guilt gripping you by the throat.

"fuck," you breathe, instantly moving to get off of her, "i'm so sorry."

"no." she says, almost pleadingly. she's still holding you by the hips when she sits up and attempts to guide you back on top of her. "no, i'm fine. don't stop."

your brows furrow. you hurt her, you were so caught up in the moment that you caused her pain. and yet, here she is, just as needy as you in spite of the pain. fucking ellie williams, everyone. laughter bubbles in your chest as you give in, returning to your place atop her lap.

"what?" her cheeks are burning bright red. "are you laughing at me?"

you're still giggling when you press a kiss to her lips, "you're just so perfect."

she's still confused, but doesn't much care for answers when you're kissing her like this. so she simply nods, feigning cognizance as she pulls you impossibly closer to her.

it's just as she reaches to unbutton your coat when the door swings wide open and the innkeeper comes sweeping in, the poor old man unaware. "oh, i forgot to⎯" his words are cut off when he realizes what he'd just walked in on. you and ellie both turn to look at him.

you're sitting on her lap, one of her hands on your chest as the other is on your hip. it's no mistaking what was going on here. the elderly innkeeper curses, covering his eyes before promptly exiting the room and shutting the door behind him, his previous reason for entry completely forgotten.

you and ellie stare at the closed door wordlessly for a split second, only for the silence to be ended by you bursting into laughter. you turn back to ellie, laughing your ass off as she soon joins in. you press your forehead to hers, eyes shut as you struggle to catch your breath. her eyes, on the other hand, remain wide open as she stares at you, admiring the scene before her ⎯ the ambiance of a moonlit motel room, the sound of your melodic laughter, the feel of your body on her lap, the sight of your smile and shut eyes. fucking hell.

when ellie accepted this job, she hadn't expected to be roped into such deep shit. and by 'deep shit' she means falling in love with a vedette.

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 perm. taglist @luvsturniolo @kasqnxx @xlovla @ilovewomenfr @zzombiegirl @shawangel @defnoteleonor @fatbootymuncher

⊹ ࣪ ˖𐙚 fic taglist @prettygirlfemme @bartshart @autisticintr0vert @mellifluousgirll @jastoo46 @femmepoet

[nightingale-prompts]

Pre-wedding Blues-Beholder AU- DCxDP(Danny x Tim)

Beholder series

Tim fucked up. Like he fucked up bad. But he knows he fucked up.

He...um...

...Slept with Danny..

But not before...

...Kissing Phantom.

And all in one night so bravo.

This was a B level fuck up. This family must be cursed with terrible relationship skills.

Before you say anything there is a perfectly resonable explanation.

Tim had a late patrol. Not because he was too nervous to return home now that he realized he had feelings for his unofficial roommate. No he was just making sure the city was free of rouges. He certainly wasn't brooding on a rooftop trying to push down his feelings because feelings were uncomfortable and weird. He doesn't brood, that's a B or Jason thing.

Then Phantom flew by so he chased. And then a very dumb thought came to mind when he caught up. Maybe he didn't have feelings for Danny. Maybe he just thought Danny was attractive and Phantom was attractive too. Maybe he had a type for mysterious and dark men.

So they bantered a bit. He knew Phantom thought he was good-looking, so he went for it. And yeah, he liked it. Phantom must have, too, because for a moment, he leaned into the kiss. However, Tim felt like shit when he saw the fury in Phantom's eyes. Tim escaped after Phantom tried to rip his head off and knew if the ghost ever saw him again, he was as good as dead.

Tom knew he fucked up. He knew that Phantom like someone else and that someone was likely Danny. But should he care if he also liked Danny? But if he liked Danny why would it feel good to kiss someosne else knowing that it wasn't honest? Did he really like Danny then?

The questions swirled in his head as he opened the door to his apartment and saw Danny looking disheveled. He didn't even look at Tim as walked to the kitchen and poured himself a drink.

"Danny is everything-"

"Its fine!" He said immediately as he took a shot.

It wasn't fine. Something happed. Was it connected to Phantom? Maybe a breakup? Tim couldn't be that lucky.

Even thinking that felt shitty. He shouldn't hope that Danny was hurt. But he still did hope Phantom would be out of their lives.

Says the person who kissed him as an experiment.

Danny paced mumbling to himself and cursing. Whatever happened it got him riled up.

Tim tried to get him to talk and then they sat down and had a few drinks and...

Well, Danny kissed him. A desperate needy kiss like it was the last one he'd ever have. And then one thing led to another. Tim still wasn't sure if this meant he was actually in love with Danny or was this was just him using another person. He had already betrayed the feelings he thought he had and now he was taking advantage of Danny's sadness.

But fuck, it felt so good.

In the morning he felt like he had grown devil horns and a tail. He was awful. There was no excuse for this. He had taken advantage of two people. He used Danny, his friend who trusted him because he couldn't control his feelings. He used Phantom in hopes to elevate his guilt for liking his friend by convincing himself that his feeling weren't real.

Where does that leave him now? Sharing his bed with Danny knowing he can't tell him any of this. What does that make them now? Friends? Friends with benefits? Boyfriends?

Whatever this was felt good but I also felt so wrong. Like he took a shortcut on a marathon route and still got first place.

Tim pushed these discorded feelings down as deep as he could manage. He wanted this right? Just yesterday we wondered what this would be like and now he had it and he had the nerve to complain.

Danny wanted HIM. He never mentioned Phantom so Phantom doesn't matter. Danny was sad and upset and Tim was there like a good friend comforted him. This is perfectly normal.

These thoughts were like the voice of a smiling devil on his shoulder telling him not to worry.

Tim thinks that this is probably what Dick calls a crisis and "needs brotherly advice". Tim hates to admit it but he needs to talk to someone even if its one of the chucklefucks he calls his brothers.

*****

On the otherside of the bed Danny was having a crisis of his own.

He was kissed by Red Robin and he even kissed back. How could he? He had a fiancé, a wonderful one at that. Had he really cheated on Tim?

They hadn't even kissed yet but there he was locking lips with a vigilante. He even had the nerve to wonder why Red Robin was so willing but his own love hadn't tried.

Danny wanted to kill that little punk for this but he knew he didn't want the Bat clan hunting him after. Still, it would keep what happened a secret.

Maybe this was his fault. He had playfully flirted with him in the past. So maybe he got the wrong message.

Danny retreated back to the apartment where he began tieing himself in knots trying to figure out if he should tell Tim. Tim didn't know Phantom but he should still tell him about the kiss. That would be honest, but if Tim knew he kissed back then that would hurt him.

By this point, a bit of alcohol told him the answer. If he's so worried about how unfair it was to Tim that he kissed someone else first then he should make it fair. Be bold and go for it. If he gives Tim everything then one little kiss is meaningless. Problem solved.

Isn't that how cheaters think though?

Of course not. Danny didn't even like Robin like that. Robin was cute and funny but his heart belonged to Tim. Plus Robin kissed him not the other way around. He's a victim in all of this. He can just overwrite this little mistake and make sure that Robin never breathes a word of this. Maybe send one of his ghosts Robin's way to remind him not to cross Danny. How else can he protect his future marriage?

The words felt slimy as they crawled to the surface of Danny's brain.

This was exhausting. Can't he just enjoy being with Tim without all this bullshit in the way? Seriously nothing can be easy in his life. He should talk to someone. Jazz always gives sensible advice but she gets so overbearing. OG Vlad gives the worst advice and the new one is only marginally better. Mom and Dad, no.

Danny needed someone older and wiser.

(a healthy dose of angst)(for flavor)

(Sorry no smut here. I'd have to write an alternate chapter for it for those who want to see it)

[koalapastries-writes]

I'M ONE OF THE GUYS

formula one x trans!male!driver!reader

request: how the fia would react to to y/n as a driver (or any of the drivers) almost being arrested in a country where it's illegal to be trans/gay ... that being a whole thing and the driver almost being kicked out of the race that weekend but doesn't and as a big f u to all the transphobic people running the race, they win the race that weekend - @moonandstarshyuck

summary: who gets arrested and then wins a race in f1? you.

warnings: swearing, transphobia, very minor suggestive content, very minor mention of oscar x reader, mentions of the fia and liberty media being assholes

face claim: faceless but uses pictures of other drivers + includes old/inaccurate photos for the plot lol, reader's team is inconsistent

fia.official

liked by pierregasly, f1, and 37,381 others

fia.official Statement regarding the events that occurred this morning.

tagged f1, youruser

                comments

user1 he got arrested???

user2 right? like what for???

user3 guys it's qatar, it's probably because he's trans

user4 HE'S TRANS???

user5 @/user4 you didn't know? bro is NOT secret about it?

user6 what do you mean he's not doing the sprint?

user7 the fia when a trans driver is subject to bigoted harassment: let's punish the driver! liked by youruser

user8 lmao y/n liked he's pissed

user9 oh he's gonna EAT this weekend i just know it

youruser

liked by lancestroll, logansargeant, and 1,258,770 others

youruser landed in doha! oh yeah, and i got arrested :))))

                comments

user10 he's so unserious help 😭

alex_albon what's with the last slide???

youruser idk it felt like an appropriate reaction

user11 y/n gets arrested and makes it the whole grid's problem

user12 he's so real for that i fear

user13 oh i am thinking Thoughts about y/n in handcuffs

"what do you mean the fia want me to drop out of the race?" you exclaimed, staring at your manager in disbelief. "they're too chicken shit to kick me out so they want me to drop out? fuck no."

"y/n, consider it, it's for your own safety—"

"bullshit, it is! they don't like that i'm trans and this just gives them a reason to get rid of me," you argued.

your manager sighed. she was used to you and your ... stubborn nature. of course, she understood your frustration. it was far from fair for the sport officials to try to kick you out when you were the victim. but sometimes, just sometimes, she wished you'd pick your battles a little more.

"so that's a no, then?"

"damn fucking right it is," you said, already leaving to get ready for quali, which you were now very nearly late for because the fia hadn't allowed you to participate in free practice or the sprint. "i'm racing. if they want to stop me, they have to do it themself. i refuse to be a doormat."

you were a good racer and a good driver, regardless of the situation, but it was impossible to deny that you were fiercer when you were pissed off. everyone talked about charles and max and even fernando being track terrors. usually, you were calm and collected and mostly flew under the radar no matter how well you did.

but this race?

there was no radar. there was just you.

qualifying p7 after not knowing if you'd even be allowed to race half an hour prior. the whole race had been a mix of daring overtakes, aggressive but fair battles, and a few shitty strategy decisions from your team. after a late pit stop that very nearly cost you the race, you managed to overtake oscar for the win.

f1

liked by kimi.antonelli, sebastianvettel, and 1,781,926 others

f1 Y/N L/N WINS IN QATAR!!!

After a rocky weekend and numerous distractions, Y/N proves once again that he belongs on the top step of the podium!

#F1 #Formula1 #QatarGP

tagged youruser

                comments

user14 KING SHIT

user15 who gets arrested and then wins a grand prix

user16 Y/N L/N, everyone 👏

user17 he's insane

user18 user17 he's an icon is what he is liked by youruser

user19 "rocky weekend" HE GOT ARRESTED

user20 not f1 posting this like they didn't try to get y/n to drop out of the race-

youruser

liked by jensonbutton, francolapinto, and 2,938,567 others

youruser say it louder, optimus prime

                comments

mercedesamgf1 y/n please take this down - toto

youruser no ❤️

user21 DADDY CHILL HE'S ONE OF THE GUYS

youruser fia.official f1

user22 oh he's MESSY messy

user23 i mean i'd be pissed too. they tried to make him drop out of the race. liked by youruser, lewishamilton, charles_leclerc, and others

oscarpiastri mega drive mate 💪

youruser thank you for recreating the fourth slide and drowning me😑

oscarpiastri youruser you know you liked it

user24 youruser on a mission to turn the whole grid gay

user25 the random mika/michael pic he's just like us fr

maxverstappen1 usually i'd be mad about the second photo but i think i'll let you have it this week

youruser like you could stop me any other week

f1 admin is very sorry ...?

fia.official seconded 🙇‍♂️

user26 i don't even follow f1 but i might start watching because y/n is unfairly cool for a man who drivers fast cars in wonky circles

youruser vroom vroom

user27 HELP

©koalapastries :: please do not copy or rewrite my work on any platform !!

author's note: first smau! hope you like it 🫶 partially inspired by the ve'ondre remix of it girl lol

comments + reblogs appreciated!

credits: @/cafekitsune for the dividers + photos from pinterest!

taglist: @raizelchrysanderoctavius @crispysoup318 @op-81-lvr-reblogs

[onlyhereforpazzi]

Let me be your rock 🪨 (get to because my last name is stone.. I have crippling debt..)

Warnings: NSFW contains smut (finger A!r Eating out p! Scissoring) angst mentions of running away from home.

A sort of fluffy fic :)

Enjoy :)

It started off small. Sharing little moment’s in Azzi’s room, hugs from behind, little pecks to the cheek, cuddling late at night, long welcoming hugs that were a bit more than just friendly, and hand holding everywhere they went. Azzi’s dad Tim would make jokes that Paige and Azzi were attached to the hip since birth, Paige would just laugh at that. But then they got risky with the end of the year coming soon they felt and needed to rush things, Azzi became just as clingy as Paige and they got a lot less demure with their touches and acts of effect.

 Paige laid next to Azzi in her queen size bed rubbing her stomach softly as she pecked her lips against Azzi’s every few seconds whispering sweet nothings into her ears, such as.. “Such a pretty girl Az..” “Look at my princess..” “Gonna dream of you every night ma..” Until Azzi finally put a stop to it by pinning Paige down with a slick move. “Whoa ma-” A startled Paige said looking up at the younger girl, adjusting her hands so one was on her ass the other on her hip smirking in that cheesy way she knew Azzi loved.

“Oh you are such a dumbass..” Azzi mumbled softly, moving a hand to the blonde’s cheek leaning down and pecking her lips in such an easy motion like banking a layup or a floater to the two hoopers. “My dumbass though..” The younger girl smiles and pecks her lips again. 

The blonde looks up at the younger girl. “Love being your dumbass,” She paused for a moment before adding “as long as I get to see that ass shake ma.” Paige was then met with a playful smack from her best friend on her arm. “What Az it is true!” Paige laughed and rolled over so the younger girl was under her.

“Yeah but is it so inappropriate!” Azzi said as if half of the stuff they have done in this very bed (or in the shower) was any better. Luckily Azzi used her brains and covered her mouth with her hand. “Don’t you even think about it Bueckers..”

“You love me Az, I know it..” The blonde smiled and pecked the younger girl's lips before whispering playfully in a seductive voice. “But you know maybe later I can show you inappropriate things.” She ran her finger down to the younger girl's shorts with a smirk, before doing her classic ‘rizz-hands’ grinning ear to ear. “Dork..” Azzi mumbled pecking her lips again, a knock at the door prevented Paige from deepening the kiss. Paige groans and rolls off Azzi so she can get up. Azzi opens the door to find Tim, the man was tall standing at 6 '7 and was a stocky man developing a bit of a dad bod from being off the court for so long, most guys didn’t ask Azzi out because her dad was so scary. Deep down he is like a big old teddy bear. “Hey girls, dinner is ready! Azzi you need to clean up your room after dinner hun.” Azzi nodded and Paige smiled before standing up and following Azzi downstairs to the dining area. The Fudd house was well kept and generally clean, except for the couch which was covered in Azzi’s two younger brothers controllers and such. Paige sat next to Azzi and placed her hand on her thing, rubbing gently as they waited for the dinner to be set in front of them. “So how was your day y’all?” Azzi’s mother Katie asked, her voice had a twang to it that made her seem more stern then she was. She looked at her two younger sons who instantly stopped messing around with each other. “Jose, remember to put away your clothes. I have asked you three times this week alone.”

Paige had grown used to this, it was nice having siblings in the house all the time and two loving parents even if they weren’t actually hers. Paige was only three when Bob and Amy got a divorce, it took her till she was seven to figure out why. She used to blame herself. It was a bad habit she developed, someone was to get hurt in court. She must have not tried enough to prevent that. It was horrible, when she found out Azzi tore her Azzi she blamed herself for not being there and not kissing her all better, not holding her in person (all they did was Facetime), not having Azzi squeeze her thighs around Paige’s head as she.. When Bob and his current wife had Drew, Paige was so happy to have a younger sibling she could treat like a little baby. Often Azzi was sent photos of Paige and Drew, in return Paige would get silly pictures of Azzi or her brothers, which she always kept in case she needed to make a quick roast on them. “My day was good Katie thank you for asking..” Paige smiled looking at the women who helped bring life to this goddess next to her currently. She held Azzi’s hand under the table while they ate and enjoyed the food. Soon they finished eating and Paige took the honor of taking Azzi’s plate to the kitchen and washing it well. Azzi watched Paige do so, before trailing behind her holding her mother’s and father’s plate. “Oh hello there madam Fudd..” Paige grinned at her cheesy words, taking the plates and pecking the younger girl's cheek. “I must say madam Fudd you look absolutely delicious in those jeans.” The blonde's eyes drifted down to her ass in those jeans smirking. 

“My eyes are up here Bueckers..” The younger girl hopped onto the counter looking at her best friend washing the dishes before walking over placing her hands on her thighs rubbing softly looking up at her. “Hm?” The younger girl hummed in a questioning tone looking at the older girl. “Nothing, just admiring this beautiful girl in front of me..” Paige grinned and pecked her lips softly against the younger girl who returned the kiss before pulling away. “Mmm, love those kisses..” The blonde began to kiss the curly haired girl's cheeks and jawline. “So perfect..” Eventually Azzi pushed Paige off of her and they went back up to Azzi’s room. Paige began to get ready for bed which included taking off her clothes. Azzi had seen Paige naked a few times but that didn’t matter. Paige undresses quickly before helping Azzi undress. It was difficult for the younger girl to deal with her injury. “Thank you P..” The blonde nodded and kissed the younger girl in a ‘your welcome’ fashion. The older girl helped Azzi get dressed until her body was dressed in short shorts and an oversized shirt, Paige got dressed in some flannel Pj pants and an oversized shirt that read ‘Hopkins basketball’.

Paige laid down next to Azzi in her bed rubbing her back gently, her touch soft against her even softer skin. “There you go Az..” Paige mumbled quietly, “Love you so much.. Gonna be here forever for you..” Azzi smiled before rolling over and kissing Paige, kissing her until her lips were swollen and she needed to catch her breath. The blonde moved down and kissed her neck softly. “Love this girl..” Paige mumbled softly kissing down her neck. Paige backed off studying her neck, looking at the slight mark on the neck of the girl. “Look at that baby..” Azzi rolled her eyes, pinning Paige to the bed smiling as they cuddled and tickled each other, acting like the teens that they were thrown into adulthood at 17 and 18 due to picking the career of basketball called the next greats hold back due to the injuries. Giving them a wider view of the world, being thrown into the world of live television during the USA basketball olympics or even just being told you are the greatest in the country added pressure, and pressure, and even more you guessed it pressure until they couldn’t take it. They were lucky to have each other to be each other's crunches, that supported their legs that held them back. “Paige?” Azzi mumbled and Paige hummed softly in reply. “What college did you choose?” “Oh um.. I have chosen Uconn, Geno seems like a great coach. He has coached the greats like Sue Bird, Taurasi, Stewie..” Paige smiled at Azzi before continuing. “Soon to be great Paige Madison Bueckers..” Azzi punched her arm softly, rolling her eyes. “Yeah.. Azzi isn't that far away from Virginia or Minnesota, I mean it is quite a bit away from Washington and like Montana but that doesn’t matter really. It isn’t like I will get drafted and go to the Storms or Wings..” “Yeah I know I just..” Azzi began but didn’t finish looking up at Paige whose blue eyes had an understanding look. “I just am scared P.. what if I don’t get drafted if my injury holds me back. I have my good grades but basketball.. It is my life P..” “Hey hey no you will get drafted in the future and I will be right there watching you cheering you on.” Paige held the younger girl's face in her hands. “We can be roommates in college, we could share a bed and have some fun every few nights.” Paige raised her eyebrows and pecked Azzi’s nose softly. “Azzi nothing is holding you back, you are the greatest player of your class. Prove it to the world, and you know maybe I will take that stupid fucking elderberry stuff again just for you.” 

Azzi laughed at the last thing Paige said before leaning in and kissing her softly. “Mmm okay but you can’t run out of the house..” Paige kissed her back gently smiling as she rubbed the hand of the younger girl. Paige pulled away gently. “No promises on that..” She leaned back and kissed her again. “Do you know when your parents are going to your brother's little thing?” Azzi shook her head before grabbing her phone to check her calendar. Paige kissed her neck gently as she did so, wanting the younger girl to feel loved. “His thing is in an hour and he wants to be there like 30 minutes early so probably in 10 minutes they will leave..” Azzi said, stroking the blonde hair of the older girl. The blonde groaned complaining that it was too long of a wait and Azzi should just let her have some fun right now. “Paige you can wait ten minutes..” Azzi smiled at the older girl, kissing her lips softly.

 “Ugh you are so mean to me..” Paige mumbled kissing the younger girl back acting as if they didn’t go four months before even having the conversation. “I love you Azzi but man you bully me..” the blonde joked and teased the younger girl.

Azzi pulled out her phone and scrolled through it while Paige clung to her, once they heard the garage open Paige grinned ear to ear. “Oh man are you excited babe?” Azzi asked, looking up at her Paige who nodded eagerly kissing the face of her best friend with eagerness. 

“Look at this face ma..” Paige mumbled the roar of the engine in the background gave Paige a signal it would be okay to take Azzi’s shirt off of her tossing it somewhere between the bed and dresser not really caring where it landed. “These motherfuckin’ abs ma..” She leaned down and kissed her stomach softly rubbing it gently between kisses. Paige kept complimenting her body, kissing down and down until she reached her shorts. “May I?” Azzi nodded and Paige pulled her shorts down to reveal the pretty underwear she watched Azzi put on. “Paige, stop teasing..” Azzi mumbled and watched as Paige pulled down her underwear letting out a moan at the sight of the younger girl's pussy. Her eyes tracing around the folds, to the clit, and then back again in a constant cycle she looked up at Azzi and smirked. 

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy ma.. Wet for me, yeah?” She kissed right above it as her thumb found her clit and rubbed slow circles around it. Her head lowered as she kissed her clit softly, spitting a bit she ran her middle finger up and down her soaking folds waiting for Azzi to give some sign of not being able to take the teasing anymore. She got what she wanted soon after when the younger girl's thigh twitched rubbing against her hand. “Want more?” Azzi nodded eagerly and Paige slipped her finger in teasing her with her slow sliding in and out. “Like that?” She smirked and added a second finger speeding up a bit as she began to stretch her out. “P.. Paige.. Fuck..” Azzi moaned her eyes on Paige struggling to hold in her moans against her bottom lip which she bit. “Paige fuck your fingers.. Need more..” “Oh yeah ma? Well then I will give you more..” She lowered her head and sucked her clit while Azzi kept moaning her hands gripping her sheets tightly scrunching the normally perfect surface. Paige's fingers curling into Azzi with a steady rhythm.. “Yeah Paige.. Paige Paige.. Fuck I am close..” Paige grinned and leaned up pecking her lips before spitting on her still moving fingers. “Damn damn.. Fuck P..” “Yeah baby let it go come on cum for me..” Azzi’s hips bucked up to meet Paige's fingers until they faltered before crashing right back down. Paige let her ride her high out until she laid there breathing heavily.. Paige pulled her fingers out and sucked on them softly. “It tastes so good ma..”

“Yeah I bet..” Azzi mumbled as she looked at Paige, “Alright my turn..” Azzi laid back against the bed while Paige stripped down to nothing but her sports bra. Paige gripped the head board as she lined herself up. “There you go..” Azzi mumbled gripping her thighs as Paige lowered herself on Azzi’s face with a moan, her folds opening around the younger girl's tongue. “Damn Az..” She slowly rose up and back down a few times before sliding against the younger girl's face as she lapped up her mess. She began to imagine what Azzi’s mother's reaction would be if she walked in and saw her daughter’s best friend sitting on her face. She was about to laugh when she was interrupted by a moan coming from herself. “Tastes so good P..” Azzi mumbled as her chin became covered with Paige’s slick and her own drool.. “Could eat this pussy every day…” Paige groaned as she rode her face fast, craving that high. She moaned again followed by some swearing as Azzi helped her reach her goal. Paige’s actions slowed and followed every few seconds till she cummed on the younger girl’s tongue. “Damn..” Paige lifted her hips and sat next to Azzi smiling at her. “So what position next hmm?” Paige rubbed Azzi’s thigh as Azzi cleaned up her face, with the back of her wrist. “Uh we could do some scissor action you know..” Azzi suggested smiling at Paige who nodded and took a deep breath before beginning to align their weak pussies, Paige slowly lowered herself to the point where they met. The two girls moaned at the touch and grinned against each other and Paige’s eyes rolled back in overstimulation of her clit touching Azzi’s folds. “Wow.. wow Azzi..” “AZZI (enter Azzi’s middle name) FUDD!” A voice called out, opening the door to find them in such a position. Paige, not knowing what to do, froze, luckily Azzi had some brains and pulled a blanket over them. Azzi’s mother stood in the door, her face must have been as red as her hair. “YOU TWO GET DRESSED AND BE DOWNSTAIRS IN 5 MINUTES..” Katie was furious this was not something Paige wanted to happen. Paige quickly got up once the door closed, pecking Azzi’s forehead before getting dressed helping Azzi get dressed. “Fuck Azzi what are we going to do.. What if they kick me out.. I can’t go back to my dad’s yet..” Paige stared at the younger girl's brown eyes until they answered her. “They won’t Paige I promise and if they do we will move out together.. I have enough money to buy a hotel or something. Come on, we can do this..” Azzi answered as she pulled her shirt over her head standing slowly using Paige as her support, her rock. Paige was her rock always was. “Come on, let's go..” Paige mumbled as they made their way down the stairs to the living room, the caring and gentle Mr. Fudd at a stern expression as he looked at the two girls, but he wasn’t the one they were worried about. They watched as Katie reentered the living room, her expression sterned as she pointed to the couch telling them to sit. “Mrs. Fudd I can explain..” Paige began but was shut down when Katie raised her hand up.  “So Azzi why when I come home from your brother's event do I find you and the girl you swore to me was just a friend in bed together doing certain acts?” Katie asked, staring them down like a hawk. “Explain to me why I found you in such a position hmm..” “Mom, I really like Paige..” Azzi’s voice was timid so Paige held her hand rubbing the back of it with her thumb. “I have liked her since we met. She is the best thing to happen to me, please don’t take her away…” Tim spoke up, “How long has this been going on?” His voice was rough like gravel in a driveway. He stared at the two girls, his eyes flicking to each as he rubbed his forehead softly.

“About 8 months but we only started doing that like a month ago..” Paige responded quickly, still holding onto Azzi’s hand.

“Unbelievable..” Katie mumbled before Tim put his hand on her shoulder. He seemed like he wanted to reason with the girls. “Listen I get you guys are teens and all but that isn’t an excuse really.. Now here is the deal: no more sex under my roof got it? But you two can be all couple like..” Tim smiled at the two girls before his expression became serious. “Now Bueckers if I find out you broke my little girl's heart.. I will not hesitate to break you..” The large man grinned and smiled at the girls once more.

Katie jumped in, “I think you two can do a bit of cleaning to make up for this..” She looked between the girls who nodded, gratefully that they at least still had each other. Still had their rocks.

[puckinghischier]

leaving soft nico thoughts about taking care of you drunk. keeping his arm around your waist as he brings you through the hallway and down to your room, setting you on the edge of the bed as he helps you take off your shoes and change into one of his shirts.

i feel like he'd also definitely be the type to hold your hair if you happen to be a sick drunk, keeping water and advil on the bedside table for whenever you're able to keep anything down. he'd just be such a sweetheart.

it was just pointed out to me that the ask does indeed say nico y’all….but my dumbass was thinking about quinn, as you can tell, so just read it and enjoy anyways and pretend it’s about nico if you want to 😭

no cause i feel like quinn is such a caretaker at his core. so yeah, he’s def be the boyfriend to stop drinking if he noticed you were having a good time and getting drunker by the hour. he wouldn’t complain, though, because as long as you were having fun and safe, that’s all he cared about.

he’d make sure you got into the uber safely and lean your slumping body against his, pressing kisses to your damp forehead and pushing hair out of your face. you’d be mumbling nonsense, mostly about how much you love him and how hot he is, and he’d return the statements with chuckles and kisses to your temple.

he’d basically carry you into the apartment, leading you to the large bed, helping you undress while you tried to sneakily take his clothes off, too.

“you sneaky girl, keep those hands to yourself,” he’d laugh, swatting your hands away from his shirt hem. you’d drunkenly giggle, mumbling about how yummy he is and how you wanted his shirt off.

once he finally got you settled and changed, he went to the kitchen to grab a water bottle and pain meds to give you, but when he entered the room again he was met with your soft snores and hair fanned out across not only your pillow, but his as well. sitting the bottle and pills on the night stand beside of you, he hovers over you to place a kiss to your cheek, the tip of your nose, and your forehead.

and a few hours later, when he’s awoken by the quick thuds of your feet rushing to the en-suite bathroom? he’s up and at your side, holding your hair back and rubbing your back in soothing circles as all the shots you took with brock earlier in the night reappear. you’d apologize profusely in-between getting sick, but quinn wouldn’t hear a word of it.

“shhh, s’okay. you’re fine. still think you’re the prettiest girl in the world. even when you’re falling asleep on the toilet seat,” he’d whisper to you, watching one corner of your lip lift in a half smile, eyes still closed as your cheek rests on the cool seat.

the next morning he wouldn’t mention a thing, just bringing you his proven hangover cure smoothie— a recipe from his old college roommate—then go out to find the greasiest breakfast he could find, knowing it’s the only thing that truly makes you feel better after a night out.

[unknownati]

iv. ekko x gn!black!reader hcs

a/n: they got me yall.

sorry for whoever followed me for tlou content we'll be having a brief intermission i'll come back to them in a minute js let me get this out my system 😭🙏🏾

warnings/tags: no use of y/n, no mention of reader's features (except for being black, but it's only in a few points 🤷🏾‍♀️ so it can be read otherwise), arcane s2 spoilers (minor), sfw and nsfw hcs, (oral sex, kinks, riding), in some au where everyone is happy and nothing bad ever happened 😊, never proofread we ball 🔥

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sfw:

- i feel like ekko is a bit shy (awkward shy though, not shy-shy...does that make sense) when you first get into a relationship with him, and it's just because he's shocked that he's managed to get with you. at first he's stumbling over words, playing off your compliments, desperately trying to keep eye contact with you but if he does he just keeps smiling because you look so good.

-one time, while riding past you on his hoverboard, you waved at him. he waved back, but even as you walked away his eyes kept following you. if it wasn't for scar warning him at the last second, he would've crashed straight into a wall.

- his cockiness comes later into your relationship, every successful action he does followed by a grin that you roll your eyes at.

-and did y'all see the way he looked at powder in ep. 7? his puppy dog eyes are LETHAL.

-he doesn't even know it either. every time he wants something, he just looks at you with those eyes and murmurs "please, ☆?" you fold so quick.

-(you've tried to learn to resist his eyes as they are what caused you to sprain your ankle in a hoverboarding accident since he begged you to race him. he just wanted to show off, too. he didn't stop apologizing for weeks.)

-he usually doesn't really like people touching his hair. he's fine with the kids doing it from time to time, but in general it's not his favorite thing in the world.

-you, however

-you get a pass because you get it. you know how it feels for your hair to just be like a petting zoo from time to time. you know exactly how to help him care for his hair, so much so that he's stopped doing his own retwists. (not like they stay in for very long, you immediately help him sweat it out 😊)

-he's made a lot of random little things for you, like a small chain necklace with an empty locket. he kind of sucks at wrapping gifts though, so he just handed it to you with a stupid smile while you two were perched at the top of the firelight tree.

-"ekko, this is so cute," you mutter, your bottom lip jutted out in adoration as you inspect the delicately crafted chain. small mistakes here and there, but you loved it.

-he also learned how to sew just so he could make you a bonnet/durag. he even sewed a crude little "e" in the corner of it, and made himself one with your initial in it as well.

-will randomly shadow box you out of no where. it's some form of cuteness aggression or something, because you'll be talking about your day while absent-mindedly twiddling with the hem of your shirt, and suddenly there are fists flying towards you that he knows to never let connect.

-"...ekko, the fuck are you doing?"

-he makes small noises that sound like "shoo" every time his fist flies, watching you stare at him with an unimpressed look.

-saw someone else say this but yeah ekko can't hoop. sorry

-he CANNOT hide his facial expressions. he may tell you one thing, but his face will never lie. if you're out eating and you feed him a bite of your food, you can watch his face contort into one of disgust, so much so that he almost looks offended. upon realizing that he doesn't want to yuck your yum, he'll fix his face into the fakest smile you've ever seen and nod.

-"...ekko, go spit it out."

-you've never seen him reach for a napkin any quicker.

-idk who the arcane universe's michael jackson is but, when he was younger he absolutely learned all the dances.

-probably the biggest softie the world has ever seen. he's very tough in public, but once he closes the door behind you two and climbs into bed with you, he's clinging onto you like a sloth.

-if you like painting your nails, he'll (hesitantly) allow you to paint his nails to match yours.

-(these next few ones are sliiightly for me 🤭)

-loves when you draw on his arms.

-until he can't get whatever marker you used off of his skin in the shower, so now he's walking around looking like a coloring book with little flowers, hearts, and signatures on his arms.

-he hangs up all the drawings you make of him up along his work space. sometimes he forgets one and leaves it on his desk, so it's a pleasant surprise to find a drawing of himself among scattered and disorganized papers while he was cleaning up.

-has gotten used to you randomly biting him. you'll come up behind him while he's working, and he already knows it's coming when you rest your chin on his exposed shoulder. 2 seconds later, your teeth are sinking into his skin. he just chuckles, but he does ask once.

-"why do you do that?"

-"oh, i dunno. i just like doing it. 's how you know i like you."

nsfw (very brief i'm sorry):

-praise kink. you couldn't tell me otherwise

-loves giving praise, loves receiving praise.

-when he's giving you head, he almost does it for his own pleasure. feeling your hand rub against his undercut while you whine and mutter "fuuuck, ekko, you're so good. don't stop please" is all he needs

-and i'm glad we've all agreed he's a thigh guy too 🙌🏾

-and IK we say this about every fictional man but HE WHIMPERS.

-he starts off with groans and grunts, but the closer he gets, the more his voice starts to shake and his words start to become whines.

-he looooves when you ride him holy shit

-looking up at you while your face contorts in pleasure is absolutely on his top 10.

-and if you stare into his eyes while you do it? his soul has left thanks!

-in general he loves eye contact. when you look up at him with his length between your lips, you can see his brain start to short-circuit.

-he's definitely the type to make sure you finish first before he even gets to think about his own pleasure.

-he's usually super sleepy afterwards too, but he refuses to lay down for a second until he makes sure you're all cleaned up and comfortable before he's out cold on your chest.

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[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Dancing with Sharks

|| Jinx x fem!reader

|| Warnings; reader on her period, brief mentions of killings, small intimate moments, short drabble

|| Summary; when Jinx finds reader on her period, she gets the idea of distracting her with art. Only... reader's Jinx's canvas.

Requests closed!

Started; November 29th

Finished; November 30th

Author Note; inspired by Jinx and Ekko drawing on each other 🫶 didn't think I would get this out today, but I did.

~~~

Jinx entered her workshop to find you curled up on the couch, heating pad across your stomach. Looking as though you'd seen... well, better days. To put it lightly. Just by the grimace in your expression Jinx could figure out what was wrong. Shark week. Honestly, she didn't blame ya. It killed her too.

She walked over and laid herself on top of you, a small smirk on her lips. "Dancing with the sharks?" Jinx asked, you gave a small nod. Followed by a whimper. Jinx hated seeing you in any kind of pain, normally she would kill whoever caused it. But she can't exactly kill this. Which just frustrated her more.

You glanced at Jinx, wrapping your arms around her and pulling her even closer. She let you. After all, if she could be any closer to you she would want to be. But the heating pad between the two of you made that a little difficult. Despite that, Jinx didn't move it. Knowing it was helping you better than she probably could have. She sighed quietly at the thought. Resting her head to your chest and tracing soft circles with her fingers over your arm. When she got an idea, glancing at her fingers. Then to the sketches all over her walls. A small smirk forming.

"Wait here." Jinx told you, you raised an eyebrow at her. Giving her a look that basically said 'where else would I go?'. She jumped off you, skipping over to where she kept her neon markers. She lifted them and looked at you. A goofy grin on her face," wanna be my canvas?"

You rolled your eyes, but you figured it might relax you. Even distract you from the cramps you were feeling. So you gave a reluctant nod," yeah, whatever." With your permission Jinx didn't waste any time. Immediately coming back over to you. Straddling your hips as she drew scribbles on your arms. Her signature monkey, some x's and various other things. At first it was a bit ticklish. But you relaxed into it. Finding it rather soothing. The marker brushing your skin, creating whatever visions Jinx was having.

Jinx giggled, clearly happy that you were letting her do this. She drew all the way up to your neck. Even giving your cheek a few small hearts. Before she would switch to the other arm. When she was done, she spread her arms off to the side like a grand reveal," bam! What do-ya think?"

Sitting up a bit to get a better look, you glanced at all the sketches she drew. "Looks good, baby." She smiled at the praise and kissed your cheek. Right where the hearts were drawn. It smudged with her lips, which made her huff and pout. She ruined her drawing. You laughed at that. Seeing the bit of pink marker on her lips.

"Let me get that," you murmured. Jinx tilted her head in confusion but quickly understood when your hand came up. Cupping her cheek and bringing her closer. Your lips met and you eyes closed. Enjoying the softness of the moment. Jinx always had her own special ways of making you feel better.

[letorip]

helping tara through an asthma attack?

nothing’s gonna hurt you baby

“as long as you’re with me, you’ll be just fine”

===+++===

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: after tara’s date ghosts her at a party and tara forgets her inhaler, you help her through her asthma, and in the process reveal how much you really care for each other

warnings: angst at first but quickly turns to fluff, mentions of asthma, small medical crisis, confessions and kissing, for the most part, fluff

word count: 2.8k

A/N: a very adorable and small oneshot i got to write! thank you for the request, it was greatly appreciated and im sorry i only got to finish it now! i cut down a lot for time's sake but i did get it done, so sorry iff it's shorter, i left more irrelevant bits out

*also, i am english and know little to nothing about new york, but i did my best

===+++===

===+++===

She wasn’t doing a thing that you could see except sitting there on the stairs, leaning on the bannister, holding the universe together.

Parties were many things, but you had never considered them beautiful. Tara Carpenter was what made them beautiful. Grabbing you tightly by the hand and tugging you onto the dance floor despite your protests, brushing the hair from your clammy forehead when you had too much to drink, and, even now, frowning at the bottom of the staircase. That was beautiful. It was so beautiful that calling it a crush didn’t feel like enough.

She doesn’t see you until you clear your throat from the other end of the foyer, leaning on the doorframe. It’s almost empty, most people squeezing into the kitchen and living room on the other side of the house, and you can hear Jump Around muffled through the walls.

“Looking for me?” she asks, a grin forming. It’s infectious, but Tara’s an infectious person: anything she does, she makes you want to do it too.

You smile back. “Always,” you nod, shoving your hands into your pockets and crossing the room to set yourself down next to her. Neither of you say anything for a minute, watching the few people go by, Tara picking at her nail polish and fiddling with her cup.

"Is this (Y/n)-code for wanting to leave?” Tara says after a while, nudging you gently with her knee. You shrug. You’d do the right thing always when it came to Tara. No matter how much fun you had been having, her frown came first, and you’d be damned if you didn’t try to lift it. Staying at the party longer would only keep reminding her how she had been let down again.

“It is getting kind of late," you murmur. She scoffs, shifting away from the railing and resting her head on your shoulder, nuzzling herself into your neck.

"It's only 12.” You can feel the vibrations of her voice against your body, warm and human. “What kind of friend would I be if I let you leave while the party’s still young?”

“A kind one,” you snort. “I’ve got a bed calling my name.”

She hums, pretending to think on it for a second, and then nods. “Five more minutes.”

You say okay and sit back in silence, letting the background music wash over you both. The clinking of bottles and laughter from the other room is loud, but mostly, you can hear her breathing against you, slow.

Tara lifts her head from your shoulder, taking a sip of her drink. “I think he’s a no-show,” she mutters after another minute, staring down into her cup and biting her lip.

“Yeah,” you nod, giving her a sad smile and bumping her with your shoulder. “What an asshole.”

It lifts her a little bit for a momentary smile that flickers in your direction, but it falls away again. “He was a really nice asshole. Something about me ‘deserving more’ and seeing ‘the real’ me.”

You hum at the sincere line said before by all too many insincere people. Tara was always the real her, and it was part of what made her so… her. Even her attempts to hide her wounds only made them more visible. To suggest otherwise was to mean he hadn’t known her very well. “It was the guy from the karaoke bar, right?” you ask.

She nods, eyes looking a little misty. You remember him well— reeking of alcohol and jostling her shoulder harshly while they sang Copacabana off key and miraculously off beat. You hadn't liked him much then, though you never did when it came to who Tara had moved onto. You hated him now, for almost making her cry.

"I guess someone told him about the attacks," she mumbled. "He said he didn't 'want to be next.' Funny part is I don't either."

"He's just a knob," you say, shaking your head. Then, you remember a particularly special piece of information you had been holding onto for the few weeks she had been talking to him. You lean into her ear, smirking as you whisper. "Though from what I heard, he didn't have a particularly large one."

It finally manages to pull a giggle from her, and she smacks you on the leg with a brilliant smile, the one that always makes your heart beat a bit faster. "What a perverted thing to say," she chides, rolling her eyes, but she still so clearly finds it funny.

"Coming from you, that's super rich," you tease. "Your imagination's gonna get you a passport to hell one day."

She smacks you on the arm again. "Come on, we should get you home, you've clearly had too much."

"So all I've got to do to convince you it's time to leave is make dirty jokes?" you grin as she stands, turning to you with an outstretched hand. You take it, letting her pull you up from the staircase.

"Nope," she replies, popping the p. "I just think it's nice out tonight."

"Yeah right," you say, walking towards the mountain of coats, grabbing her pink puffer one from the pile and then your own heavy jacket. "It's cold as hell."

"To you, you big baby," Tara teases, ditching her cup on the nearby mantle. She still zips herself all the way up, shoving her hands into her pockets, until she looks down. "Shit."

You furrow your eyebrows, turning around from zipping up your own. "What?"

"My shoe's untied," she groans. "And I already zipped this damn thing up." You roll your eyes. She could easily unzip it and do it herself, but you know she doesn't want to.

"Just ask already, slick."

She's beaming at you again and you suck in a breath at the way her brown eyes always seem to twinkle, even in dim lights. "Tie it for me?" When you don't move, she clasps her hands together mockingly. "Please?"

"And we have a winner," you grin, bending down. She's wearing her beaten-up white Converse, and you tie it quickly, double-knotting the old, weathered laces. "Y'know, for the holidays, I'm getting you a new damn pair, these things have definitely seen better days—" you stop in your tracks when you look up. Tara's eyes are watching you with an odd expression you can't place, in a way you've never seen her look at you before. "What?" you ask.

As quickly as it flashes, Tara shoves it away, shaking her head. "Nothing, nothing." She herself seems surprised, blinking a few times as you stand back up. "We should go."

"Okay," you shrug, shoving your hands into the pockets of your pants. Tara leads the way out through the propped-open front door, right out into the cold. Tara lets out a cough, out into the air, and it turns to a condensation cloud in the cold.

New York is already icy, gearing up for winter, and the trees have shed their leaves to become small, barren branches. The house party wasn't that far from your flat or Tara's, which was part of why Sam was so okay with the both of you going. The only person more protective of Tara than you was Sam.

"So, how'd you find that out about him?" Tara asks, coughing, taking your arm in hers. She always said you were freakishly warm to the touch, but right now, it was probably a plus.

"I told you we have class together, right?"

Tara nods, her breath a little wheezy. "Yeah?"

"I talked to this girl, Ada, in that class, and she said it was true. I didn't ask how she knew, though, but she really laid into him for being an asshole."

"Hm," she hums. "And you didn't say anything about it?" You know she's teasing, but you shake your head.

"You seemed excited about him, and you can make your own choices. Plus, I didn't know if you'd really care, to be honest." She doesn't say anything back, but that weird look is back on her face, so you avert your own eyes, feeling a burning on your cheeks.

"Thanks," she whispers. "You always trust me more than Sam does."

The both of you walk about another block before Tara speaks again. "I'm hungry," she says, coughing into her hand.

"I've got food at mine?" you suggest, the cold night air tickling at the roof of your mouth as you speak. The tips of your ears are freezing, as is the back of your neck, and you shiver after a particularly harsh gust of wind. It's unforgiving, in that way, and the wind barrels down the tall streets, chilling people throughout the winter. Tara coughs again and you shoot her a look.

"This cold air is really messing me up," she says with an eye roll. "I'll be okay, let's just get home." You send her another wary glance but turn your attention back to the city. You and her pass a few high rises with people in the warm windows.

"Must be nice to be indoors right now," you grin. Tara smirks right back at you.

"Maybe we should've just stayed in and watched some movies."

You roll your eyes. "Oh, now who wants to take my suggestion?"

"Yeah, well, now I've got the bath calling for me," she says, unlinking your arms to adjust her jacket. "That and Love Is a Losing Game and the block button."

"Poor baby," you tease. "Must be nice having a bathtub."

"It is," she nods, still fiddling with the zipper and pulling it down a little. "I can have all the wine and bubble baths I want." She's still coughing, struggling through her words.

"Greedy," you laugh, walking on ahead. You get only a few steps before you notice Tara isn't following you.

"Hey, what—" When you turn around, you can see her eyes wide, and she wanders towards the curb, plopping herself down on the freezing pavement and clutching at her throat.

"Shit," you rush, quickly coming over and kneeling down in between her knees as she continues to cough. "Shit, shit, shit." Her eyes are wild as she struggles to breathe, and she grabs your hand tight, squeezing it sharp with her nails. "Tara, what's happening? Is this an attack?"

She only manages a small nod, coughing awfully and trying but failing to take in a wheezy breath. You swallow the lump in your throat, looking around for someone, anyone, but the street is deserted. "Where's your inhaler? Where is it?"

Tara's nails dig into the skin of your hand in between her coughing, drawing small crescent moons of blood. Her other hand goes to her jacket, lifting up the bulge over her chest that is her interior pocket. You nod, trying to unzip it, but for some reason, it's not coming down.

Her eyes are full of fear and the brimming of tears as she struggles to breathe, and you mess with the zipper, trying to pull it down in the cold. "God fucking dammit, it won't—" you try to explain, yanking on the damn thing, which continues not to budge. Her own fingers reach up to try and get at the zipper, but you beat her to it, harshly ripping it open.

Her medicine bag falls right out, and you open it, dumping everything out onto the pavement and picking up her small blue inhaler. She sends you that weird look again as you shake it for a few seconds, handing it over. She takes a wheezy breath out and places the inhaler over her lips as she shuts her eyes, breathing in as deep as she can. You wait nervously as she holds it in her mouth, before finally letting out a much easier exhale.

Tears are pricking the corner of her eyes, and you raise a soft hand to gently brush them away with the pad of your thumb as relief washes over you. She's breathing and she's okay, and that's all you really care about.

Tara's hand finally drops its grip on yours, and though your hand is stinging in the places she drew blood, you pay it no mind. You turn your attention to her medicine bag, picking up the bottle and bandaids you dumped out as she waits and takes another puff. You don't say anything, just silently start picking up her things and putting them away, zipping up the bag.

When it's in order, you give her a gentle smile and put the bag back into her jacket, plopping yourself down next to her as you wait for her to let you know she's okay. After another puff and about another minute, her breath is slowed, and the fast beating of your heart begins to slow as well.

===+++===

Tara doesn't say much, staring out onto the street in total silence as she takes deep breaths in and out. You watch her with a worried expression, tensing every time she lets out a cough, but it's quickly pushed away as her lungs relax. Even after twenty minutes go by, you both remain there, sitting in silence, your eyes never leaving her face, except for the occasional passing car.

After long enough, she scoots a bit closer to you, letting her own eyes find yours. "That was scary," she whispers.

"Yeah," you nod. "Sorry about... well, your jacket. I think I might've broken the zipper. Guess I'll have to get you that for the holidays too—"

She raises her hand, brushing some hair back from your forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment and then brushing themselves down your cheek. You freeze at the touch of her cold hands but do not pull away, feeling her trace your jaw and then lower, her hand stopping against you just below your collarbone, right above your heart. She's so close you can hear her breathing, feel her warmth and how it fans out across your cheeks.

"Tara—" you breathe, but before you can finish the sentence, which wouldn't have been particularly coherent anyway, she gently presses her lips against yours. It's soft and gentle, her lips slotting against your own in a perfect match. Before you can even process the divine sensation or try to give anything in return, she's pulling away, squeezing her eyes shut and apologising.

"Sorry, sorry, I must've gotten it wrong, I just, well...," she starts. Your mind is reeling at a thousand thoughts a second. "It's just that you're always there for me when no one else is, and I guess I—"

But this time, you're the one to cut her off. You lean forward, not even caring what else she has to say, instead kissing her back hard. She groans into it, her hands cupping your cheeks, holding you against her. It's magical, she's magical, and all those moments of wishing it was you she was kissing are gone because you are the one she's kissing.

Your hands slip around her waist, holding her against you as your lips move together in sync, the breeze gently moving against your skin. "I love you," she says against you, pulling you back in. It's softer than your hungry attack, but you cherish it more, letting her pull away and rest her forehead against yours. Once more, the cold is tickling at the newfound warmth you feel.

She pulls away from your lips but not from you. "I think I thought love was supposed to be this grand, tight battle. It's what my life was, some big battle. But not you. You're as easy and helpful as breathing. I love it about you that you love everyone else, too," she whispers. She reaches up placing a kiss upon your forehead. "Get it?" she laughs. "Breathing?"

"Too soon," you scoff, shaking your head. "I've loved you a long time, Tara," you reply, feeling your cheeks flush. "Through the assholes and the cowards and the people who wanted me. I've loved you. It might be chronic, I think I always will." You're so damn warm it's antithetical to the freezing chill that attempts to throw itself at you and Tara, only to be batted off by your hands upon each other.

She lets out a soft smile, putting her head back on your shoulder, only this time, it's your other one. "Maybe I should almost die more often if it means I get to have you."

You shake your head, leaning it against hers. "That's not funny," you scoff, and she rolls her eyes at you, gently prodding you in the side. "Besides," you smile. "You can have me any time now, you dork."

"That sounds nice," she hums against you. "But I still want pizza."

"Do you want to come back to mine? I think I have one in the freezer."

"Hm," she murmurs, then nuzzles deeper. "Five more minutes."

As easy as breathing, together.

===+++===

really struggled with the ending speech but i kind of liked not really having one? it's just kind of understood. no nice-guy 'it was me all along' or 'i'm sorry i didn't notice you sooner.'

[midnight-mourning]

*Taps mic* Heard y'all like Moon around here, you're in luck, this one's for you

massive, MASSIVE thank you to @lunarmoves for beta-reading this chapter!!

She put a lot of time and effort into making my BS readable for y'all and it's greatly appreciated <3 <3 <3

Shay also makes really good dca stuff (also sebastian solace but I know very little about the fish tbh) and you should check her out!

Also, happy 200k+!!! We're only 297k from truly becoming the 500k enemies to lovers slowburn of our dreams lmaoooo

But for real I apologize for such a delay with this one. If you'd like to hear my excuses/reasoning they're below the cut, or you can just go read the chapter whatever suits ya ^-^

Tag list (if you would like added please see this post for more info):

@scarletcowboy @beemyhuneybee @fishm0ther @deviouscrackers @elsajoyagent8

@luckyyyduckyyy @zenkaiankoku @jogimote @local-shrub @amarynthian-chronicles

@robinette-green @everlightreader @sinister-sincerely @starredeclipse @dangerva

CW: medical stuff & additionally a bit of unreality mentions

Okay going to try and keep this simple bc I've said parts of it before

So as most of you know, I've been sick for 3 months now

I've now been on two rounds of steroids, and currently on my third round of antibiotics, which are basically keep me fucntional, not improving

besides general discomfort and pain, my memory has been pretty shot at times, I will go through the day and barely remember what I did/what I'm doing/what I need to do

as someone who had brain fog caused by covid a few years ago, this was genuinely a scary experience because ultimately, this has been worse

i've felt out of control of my body, having times where I'm mid thought and then instantly lose it

this is not my normal, I usually pride myself on my memory, so losing it has been incredibly devastating and scary

this was not helped by the fact that the quick care I went to (THREE TIMES for this) basically kind of sort of tried to gaslight me into believing nothing could be done and that it's not an infection

so not only has this entire thing has gotten dragged out so much more, which makes me sad tbh, but I've also felt like I've been going crazy bc it felt like no one was believing me when i said I was sick and not getting any better (including friends, family, coworkers etc, though unintentional on their parts to be fair)

I feel like I've lost three months of my life and coming to terms with that has been, yeah

on top of all that, I'm still in school AND doing grad stuff, and while the school side of things has been okay (thank god), grad's had it's moments, won't get into it but have had multiple issues with my advisor that have been at times just really tough to deal with

Confused spirit got pushed to the back burner, because i quite literally at times could not think, and when it comes to this fic, where there's multiple ongoing plot threads, characterizations, lore, and so on to keep track of, it was just, impossible to me to even consider writing for it

having shorter stuff like promptober, the oneshots and such was great to keep me writing, and also still interact with everyone in the community, plus i had a lot of fun with them so that helped too

this is all to say that I do sincerly apologize for the delay, and at the very least I should've clearly communicated about there being a hiatus, when this all started I thought i'd be down for two weeks max, then as that time kept increasing I just kept putting it off and putting it off because i thought i was going to get better, and then I didn't

I do this for fun and for nothing else, fic writing isn't content (it's engaging with fandom) and i have to remind myself of that sometimes but given that I've been around in some capacity on and off I feel I should've said something in some regard

Having said all that, I'm doing okay now! Still sick, but as long as I'm on meds I'm functional, stuff is getting managable with grad, and hopefully have some fun things coming up irl! Point is, the last three months haven't been the best, but they've been alright, due in part to all the support you all have given me, so thank you for that, can't say it enough :)

Okay, I think that just about covers it, thank you for taking the time to read all of this if you did <3

[jisungiesvzz]

He Won’t Know

Han Jisung x fem!reader

Best friends brother trope (Minho is your brother, Jisung is his best friend)

Warnings: lots of kissing/heavy making out, angst at the end, mood changes quickly, not so happy ending (that’s it I think?)

Word Count: 1.8k (a little over)

Summary: You had fallen for your brother's roommate/best friend, Jisung, and it was getting harder to hide it. You’d managed to suppress your feelings for him but his constant flirting and need to get you flustered didn’t help. You had to spend the week at their dorm due to your roommates lack of spacial awareness, giving you unexpected alone time with Jisung. Will he be able to win you over or will your brother get in the way?

P.S. this is NOT proofread so please lmk if there’s any warnings I missed or spelling/grammar mistakes. Okay now go enjoy the story :)

———————

Your brother Minho shared a dorm with his best friend Jisung. You often spent the night there because your crazy roommate was either always yelling at someone over the phone or had a guy over at the late hours of the night. She had no spacial awareness and constantly left her things all over the kitchen, bathroom and living room.

Most nights you could handle your roommates obnoxious and incredibly annoying nature but some nights, like tonight, you just couldn’t take it anymore. 

Your roommate was yelling at her “friend” over the phone and you could hear her from the down the hall. You repeatedly told her to be quiet because you were running on two hours of sleep and had an exam early in the morning and needed some good rest but she just yelled at you and slammed the door in your face. You pulled out your phone and called Minho. It barely made it past the first ring when he picked up.

“Y/n is everything okay?” 

You let out a long sigh, “No, everything’s not okay.”

“What happened?”

Although, you hadn’t mentioned your roommate, Minho already had a pretty clear idea of why you were calling.

“I really hate to ask this but…” you paused for a moment unsure if you should continue. You wanted to ask to stay the week so you could get some sleep for your upcoming exams but you felt like you’d be a bother to them for staying that long. After all, you’ve never stayed more than one night. “Can I stay at your place for… the week? I know I’ve never stayed that long but my roommate is being so disrespectful. You don’t have to say yes, I don’t want to bother you guys.”

Minho chuckled humorlessly, taking you a bit by surprise.

“You’ve never been a bother, Y/n. We wouldn’t let you stay over if you were.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” 

“Y/n, don’t make me go down there and pack your stuff for you,” he playfully threatened. “Because you know I will.”

You giggled to yourself, “Yeah, you totally would. Okay, uh… give me a few minutes then I’ll head over.”

“Be safe and call me when you get here so I can come down and get you,” Minho said.

You hummed in response and ended the call.

You let out a relieved sigh as you headed to your room to pack your bag. 

—————

You arrived outside Minho and Jisung’s dorm building, your finger hovering over Minho’s contact. You stared at your phone for a while, feeling a bit nervous now that you were there. 

You were caught off guard when you got a text message.

Jisung: I can see you standing outside. You don’t need to be nervous, jagi ;).

You looked up from your phone and saw Jisung sitting on the window frame, looking down at you from his bedroom window. The nickname gave you butterflies but you fought them back as you typed a response.

You: lol I’m not nervous.

Jisung: you’ve been standing there for five minutes… I’d say you’re nervous.

You playfully rolled your eyes at him then headed towards the building. You raised your hand to knock on the door but it opened before you could make contact. 

“You got telepathy or something?” You questioned as you looked at Minho.

“Maybe…” he replied rubbing the back of his neck, “Hurry up and get settled in it’s already pretty late.”

You walked in and set your stuff down by the couch. You usually sleep on the couch when you spend the night since the dorm doesn’t have a spare room.

“I’d stay out here with you for a bit but I have an early morning,” Minho said letting out a deep breath.

You looked up from your bags and gave him a tired, reassuring smile, “It’s okay. Go and get your rest.”

Minho gave you one last comforting smile before wandering off to his room. You scavenged your pajamas out of your bag and headed for the bathroom. You changed into your pajamas and opened the door to leave when you were met with Jisung directly outside the door.

You swear your heart skipped a beat as you made eye contact with him.

“Hey…” you whispered a little startled.

“Hey,” Jisung said with a soft smile. He looked you up and down and you shifted from the spot you were standing in. He let out a soft chuckle and a smirk before commenting, “Cute pajamas.”

“Oh- uh thank you,” you replied back a little more flustered than you wanted. He was almost chest to chest with you now and you held your breath.

“Minho told me you’re staying for a week? Is it that bad with your roommate?”

For such a simple statement, his tone was low and sultry, taking you a bit by surprise. Your words were caught in your throat for a moment as you looked up at him. You knew he knew what he was doing to you but you refused to give in.

“Y-yeah it is… I should just live here at this point,” You half-joked.

“Hm, I’m not opposed to it,” Jisung mused leaning impossibly closer.

You didn’t know what to say after that. His body was leaned up against yours now and his lips were inches from yours. You didn’t know how it got to this point but all you wanted to do was kiss him and he knew it. He smirked at your flustered state before closing the gap between you. 

The kiss was slow but sloppy, making you melt into him. He placed his hands on your hips and you wrapped your arms around his neck.  He squeezed your hips causing you to gasp and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. You moaned into the kiss as his tongue danced around your mouth. His hands slid down to the back of your thighs and squeezed, lifting you up and placing you on the bathroom counter. He broke from the kiss and trailed kisses from your cheek to you jawline, making his way down to your neck. He sucked and licked at your neck and you moaned at the new sensation. 

You covered your mouth suddenly remembering that your brother was in the room next door. You knew how wrong this was, even though it felt so good.

“Ji… mmh wait,” you breathed out trying to contain your whimpers. He broke off from your neck and admired the purple mark that was starting to form. 

“We can’t- we shouldn’t do this,” you continued.

“Why not, jagi?”

“It’s not right.”

Jisung pressed his tongue against his cheek and let out a breath of air, “It’s because you’re my best friends sister, right?” 

You didn’t know what to say. Partially because you didn’t know what he meant from the tone in his statement.

“Ji, it’s not a bad thing but… you know my brother won’t take this well.”

He sighed looking down, “I know, I know. This-” he points his finger between you two, “is forbidden.”

“How I hate unspoken rules…” you mumbled.

Silence fell between the two of you and Jisung nuzzled his face into your neck. He let out a deep breath that you didn’t realize he was holding as you wrapped your arms around his neck, stroking his hair with your hands soothingly. You stayed like that for a few moments before Jisung broke the silence.

“He doesn’t have to find out you know,” his voice was muffled from his face still being buried in your neck.

“What…? What are you implying?” You say furrowing your brows.

Jisung lifted his head from your shoulders to look you in your eyes. His expression was needy but hopeful, like he wanted this to work with you. All those times he flirted with you might of actually meant something. Part of you thought his flirty comments and actions was just for his own entertainment and not because he actually felt something for you.

“I want to be with you. Like really bad. All my flirty comments… they weren’t just to make you flustered.” 

He laughed to himself and grinned, “I mean bonus if they did.” 

You softly laughed at his comment. Then it hit you. He wanted to be with you and he was serious. You hadn’t realize you had gone quiet.

“Can you please say something?” He whispered, his eyes flickering to look at your lips.

“I… I wanna be with you too, Ji.” You paused shifting on the counter a little.

“You don’t seem like you want it.” His gaze softened and you frowned at his disappointment.

“No I do, I do. It’s just-” you were suddenly cut off by a loud, shocked voice.

“What the fuck?!”

You both turned your heads to find Minho standing in the door way, mouth opened in shock. Jisung immediately ripped away from you as you jumped off the counter top. Jisung started fumbling over his words.

“M-Minho it’s not what it looks like-”

“Really? You’re gonna tell me that after the position I just saw you two in?” Minho retorted taking a step towards him.

“Minho just hear us out,” you chimed in.

“You know what, no,” Minho threw his hands up in surrender, “I don’t want to hear it. This is-” He paused for a second then looked at Jisung causing him to take a step back,  “That’s my fucking sister.”

Before either of you could say anything else, Minho turned around to leave, slamming his bedroom door. You and Jisung stood in the bathroom in silence, shocked from the situation. The air became thin and suddenly you couldn’t handle being in the same room as him. You thought coming here would fix your problems but trouble just seemed to follow you here.

“We should talk this out in the morning…”  you whispered, your voice slightly cracking.

“Jagi please-”

“Ji, can we please just talk about this in the morning.” You sighed, not wanting to think about the situation further. 

Jisung lowered his head with a frown, “Yeah… yeah we can do that.”

You nodded and left the bathroom, leaving Jisung alone. 

Author’s Note: The amount of times I rewrote this ending is INSANE. I eventually just gave up so sorry for the semi-abrupt ending. I can attempt a part 2 later… maybe 😐

[kouudi]

ᡣ𐭩 every path leads back to you — isagi yoichi

warnings: reader has an ex fiancé (not isagi), reader has commitment issues, description heavy, mentions of drinking, kind of proof read but not really, reader feels very guilty

a/n: i'm sorry this took so long ;-; life has been crazy and my job's been requiring me to come in more. turns out i work on christmas eve and day so that's fun i guess? happy late thanksgiving i'm thankful for all of you + my moots :D not sure when i'll be able to post again but i'll try to keep y'all updated and not disappear. also yes this was teased as a reo fic but ignore that...

The air in your apartment smelled like stale beer. The low hum of the refrigerator filled the silence in the background, only broken by the occasional wail of a distant siren outside. You’re perched at the edge of the couch, staring at the scattered beer cans on the floor as if they hold the answer to a question the universe is too afraid to ask.

You’re not even sure how the night started. Bachira called you, telling you that the team was home for a break. You rejected his invitation to go out for drinks, preferring instead to settle in at home with your own packs of beer.

Maybe Isagi called you, or maybe you texted him first—something vague after a few drinks, an invitation he somehow read between the lines. Now, hours later, he’s sitting in front of your couch, back against the edge, a comfortable distance away from you.

You think it should feel strange, having him here like this, so casually. Isagi Yoichi, with his perfect life and effortless charm, is a far cry from the mess you’ve become over the years of your friendship with him. Despite the differences, you feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, as if for tonight, your loneliness isn’t yours to bear alone.

He’s quiet now, watching you with an expression that’s hard for you to read, his sharp eyes flickering all over your apartment as if they can’t settle on one thing for long. You take a swig from your beer, the bitterness burning your throat, and glance at him. You feel exposed, as if he’s peeling back the layers of whatever shield you’ve managed to build.

It’s that specific look that pulls the words from your tongue before you even realize it.

“Did you know I was supposed to get married last year?” The bitterness and disbelief are laced in your voice.

Isagi arches a brow at your sudden confession, his expression unreadable. The clutter of empty beer cans scattered around the floor brings up the thought of why he chose to end the night at your place, instead of suggesting his own for a late-night drinking session.

His gaze lingers on you, sharp and searching. “No, I didn’t. You’ve never mentioned it,” he says finally, his tone careful and neutral. You wonder if he’s doing it on purpose. “Are you joking?” he asks, his voice calm and even, his expression still unreadable. You force out a dry laugh.

“Yeah, well. There’s a lot I don’t mention,” you snort, lifting the beer can to your mouth. The bitterness in your tone stings your own ears. That wasn’t something you meant to blurt out. The weight of your guilt feels heavier than usual tonight, with Isagi here. His presence brings forth that strange sense of comfort, though it’s almost aggravating to you.

“Why bring it up now?” he asks, leaning back against the couch, still keeping his eyes focused on you. His voice is calm, but there’s a flicker of something beneath the surface—curiosity, or maybe even concern.

You shrug and stare down at the flat liquid in your can. “It’s been on my mind,” you mutter, though it’s only half the truth. It’s not just the memory of what could’ve been. It’s him—sitting here, looking too calm, too collected, as if your mess is just another puzzle for him to figure out.

You take another sip of your beer, the bitter taste doing little to ground you. Isagi’s gaze doesn’t waver, and you can feel the unspoken questions hanging in the air between you. Still, he doesn’t push, but his presence alone is almost like a small nudge, daring you to open up, to say more, to peel back a layer of your life that you’ve hidden from him for so long.

For a moment, you consider brushing it off with a dumb joke or changing the subject completely. But the quiet intensity in his eyes makes it impossible. Instead, you let the silence stretch, the weight of it pressing down until the emotions start to seep in—uninvited and vivid.

The memory floods back to you—the rush of slipping out the back of the reception hall, still in your wedding dress, makeup half-done and beginning to smudge. You remember the moment of freedom amidst the chaos, but the weight of the man you left behind quickly pulls you back.

“I left him at the altar,” you quietly confess, the words heavy on your tongue. The thought of your fiancé waiting for you at the end of the aisle, surrounded by friends and family, lingers in your mind like a shadow.

You never thought you’d be the type of person to run from their own wedding. You and your ex-fiancé had spent the year preparing to make that day meticulously perfect—the music, flowers, decorations, and even the vows that you spent countless sleepless nights perfecting. From everyone else’s perspective, the day was out of a fairytale. But to you, you didn’t belong in that story.

Your ex-fiancé was everything people thought you should want: a kind and successful man. You admit that it was everything you did want at the time. He was a respectable man. But, over time, the relationship became a suffocating routine, rather than one built on genuine love.

Every day that passed, and the wedding date drew closer, you felt more trapped. “It’s just cold feet,” you’d tell yourself over and over again. “Everyone feels this way before committing to forever.”

You remember the morning of your wedding, staring at your own reflection in the mirror, veil perched upon your head, feeling like an imposter. You remember the feeling inside you suddenly snap. You couldn’t do it. You couldn’t marry this man. You couldn’t spend the rest of your life pretending to be someone you weren’t.

You can’t fake a thought—that was something you realized the day you met the man sitting beside you. In the last few months of your previous relationship, you started to notice things. It took you longer than usual to answer your phone, you never genuinely smiled anymore, and you only did activities that he suggested because you’d convinced yourself you didn’t know what you wanted to do. No matter how much you pretended not to notice the change in yourself, you did. You noticed it all.

It wasn’t until you and Isagi began crossing the lines between friendship and something deeper a few months ago that you realized what you had been missing. Isagi had a way of filling the empty spaces in your life—spaces you hadn’t even known existed. His presence was effortless yet inescapably consuming. And yet, as much as you knew you should surrender, a small voice kept reminding you of everything you had left behind: the stability, the comfort, the certainty. Isagi was none of those things, and perhaps that’s what drew you to him the most.

He was a force of nature, always moving, always shifting, while you were stuck in place, bound to the limit of the city you were in, caught between the pull of your past and the push toward something unfamiliar. You did try to fight it at first—tried to keep a distance, to protect whatever small sense of self that you still desperately clung to. But every time he smiled, every time he spoke, it was as if your world had narrowed to only show him. And that was terrifying.

You were stuck between staying with what you knew about yourself at age twenty-four or venturing out into the world. You didn’t want to stay stagnant, frozen in a life you felt was no longer yours. But with Isagi, there was no promise of tomorrow. There was no guarantee that things would stay the same. And maybe that was the most frightening thing. You could fall, and he wouldn’t catch you. Or maybe he would, but only for a little while.

A hand on your shoulder pulled you from your thoughts. Isagi’s expression had shifted, his usual calm replaced by something softer, tinged with sadness. His eyes met yours, but there was a distant heaviness in them, as if he were carrying a weight you couldn’t see. You weren’t sure when he got up to sit beside you.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you, thick and uncomfortable. You could feel the shift in the air, like something unspoken had settled there, pressing down on the two of you.

Isagi opened his mouth as if he was going to say something, but he hesitated. His brow furrowed slightly, and he seemed to be grappling with his words, as though he knew what he wanted to say wasn’t going to come out right. When he spoke, his voice was quieter than before, softer than his usual tone of confidence.

“I knew you were getting married. Bachira told me,” he confessed, his eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I didn’t want to make things... harder for you, so I pretended not to know.”

There it was—the guilt in his voice. You’d expected it, but hearing it now hit you harder than you thought it would. Isagi, who always seemed so composed, so untouchable, was suddenly vulnerable in a way you weren’t sure how to handle.

“I knew you would’ve told me if you wanted me to know.”

You swallowed, unsure of what to say, the weight of his words settling in. You weren’t prepared for this—this side of him. But before you could second-guess yourself, the words came out anyway. “I didn’t want you to know,” you said, your voice quieter now. His eyes softened, and you could see the faint shadow of regret in them. “You were always so busy, always out of the country… I just wanted to move on.” You paused, feeling the heaviness of it all. “We’ve been in this strange place for months now, but honestly, I’ve been here even longer.”

Isagi’s gaze intensified, a flicker of concern crossing his face. “What are you trying to say?”

You turned your head away, suddenly embarrassed to meet his eyes. “Isagi,” you whispered, the confession slipping out before you could stop it, “I’ve liked you for a long time now.”

The silence that followed was thick and suffocating, the kind that made you want to sink into the couch and disappear. You felt exposed, as though everything that protected you had been stripped away. But Isagi didn’t say anything, not at first. His eyes never left yours, and his silence—rather than pushing you away—seemed to be drawing you in further.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he exhaled slowly, his breath shaky. “I don’t know what to say to that,” he admitted, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “You’ve always been so distant. I didn’t think I stood a chance.”

The words hit you in your gut. Isagi, a man who always seemed composed and confident, had been uncertain the entire time? The realization made you feel both relieved and guilty—you had been blind to everything for longer than you thought.

“I didn’t mean to push you away,” you said quietly, your throat tightening. “I thought that if I just kept going, kept pretending, it would get easier. But it never did.” You paused, your heart racing. “And now… I don’t know how to fix it.”

Isagi’s expression softened again, the sharp edges of his usual demeanor fading into something gentler. He leaned forward, his voice steady but full of something deeper. “You don’t have to fix it. You just have to tell me what you want. I’m right here. I’ve always been here, but you’ve got to let me in, too.”

His hand finds its way to your cheek, his thumb gently caressing your lips. “We can be a team, but only if you’re comfortable being one together.”

You lean into his touch, as if it were muscle memory. The warmth of his hand on your skin, his thumb pressing gently on your lips—everything about this moment feels like something you should’ve known before, something that was always there, just out of reach. For a split second, you let yourself believe that it’s real, that it’s something you deserve.

But then, as quickly as you let yourself forget, the weight of everything you’ve kept buried presses down on your heart again. The guilt. The confusion. The silence between you, stretched thin over the last few months as you both tread the line between friendship and something more. You pull back slightly, enough to break the contact between you, but not enough to distance yourself completely. You feel colder without the warmth of his hand on your face.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you say, the words escaping before you can stop them. You feel the uncertainty creeping back in.

Isagi doesn’t pull away. He doesn’t let the space between you grow too wide. His eyes are softer now, though you can still see the same intensity in them. He studies your face for a moment, but it feels like he’s seeing past you, into the deeper parts of you, weighing your words carefully. Then, in a voice as low as a whisper:

“No rush. We take things slow, one step at a time.”

The way he says it—the calm certainty—makes your heart race. It’s as if he’s offering a lifeline out of the mess you’ve made of your life. And for the first time in a long time, you start to believe that maybe, just maybe, things could be different.

You meet his gaze, your breath catching in your chest. “Are you sure?” you ask, the vulnerability in your voice tightening your throat.

Isagi doesn’t hesitate. “I’m sure.”

And for the first time, you believe him.

written by koudi

tags: @sarahforever

[tinfoil-jones]

Gravity Falls: For Your Own Good, Ch. 16

Summary: A few years after moving to Gravity Falls and having his lab built, Stanford Pines happens upon his estranged twin brother, Stanley. He mentally prepared himself to be suffocated by his brothers neediness all over again - what he wasn't prepared for was Stanley walking right past him like he didn't even notice him.

Rating: M for language, violence, and adult implications

Preface: Dialogue only, but some actions will be annotated for clarity. Cross-Posted on AO3 Here.

When Bill and Ford are in the dreamscape together, their dialogue is written normally. But if Bill and Ford are communicating in Fords head without the mindscape, Bills dialogue is in "italics", and Fords dialogue is in 'apostrophes and italics'.

First - Prev - Next

CH.16

“Stan?”

“What’s up, stretch?”

“To my understanding, you’re familiar with a… sizable number of illicit substances?”

“Why, you looking for a plug?”

“A… plug?”

“Ya know, a guy who can hook you up with stuff.”

“...Stan, I’m not looking for a drug dealer.”

“Good, because all of the ones I know hate my guts.”

“Are you familiar with a substance called Ketamine?”

“Special K? Haven’t used it, but I’ve heard of it. I heard it kinda does what magic mushrooms do, but without all the visions.”

“It’s a dissociative non-opioid, anesthetic, and analgesic.”

“So it’s like heroine, but it isn’t heroine?”

“Ain’t exactly like that, but you can think about it that way.”

“What about it?”

“I’ve reached out to a colleague in psychology about your case - don’t worry none, I didn’t use names or details - she told me about a hypnotherapy that’s assisted by ketamine.”

“Hypnosis? Like, mind control?”

“That’s a popular misconception - hypnotherapy has been called hypnotic suggestion, but the goal is to bring the patient in question into a greater state of focus with less peripheral awareness, so they may relax and turn their attention inward. Are you following me, Stan?”

“It… blocks out background noise?”

“In a way, yes, just with thoughts. I don’t believe your memories are gone, they’re just buried under a lot of mental clutter and distractions.”

“And ketamine helps with that?”

“It’s a dissociative drug, it’s meant to help with trauma by approaching it without connecting to it. Would you be interested in something like that?”

“I thought you said you weren’t an actual therapist, where would you even get-.”

“I’m not going to be conducting the session, it’s going to be that colleague I just mentioned.”

“... I dunno F, I don’t have the greatest history with shrinks.”

“You’ve seen therapists before?”

“Seen is…a word.”

“What happened?”

“Do the words ‘padded room’, ‘cozy jacket’, and ‘solitary confinement’ mean anything to you?”

“... Institutions don’t do sol-.”

“That’s what they want you to think. Anyways, half of the therapists I ever had quit because of me.”

“What about the other half?”

“Ended up in the same looney bin.”

“That can’t be true.”

“Your friend turned crazy as soon as we met.”

“Stanford is not crazy.”

“Can you say that with a straight face?”

“He’s eccentric.”

“Wait, he's gay? I thought he wasn’t anything.”

“That isn’t what eccentric means. And- back to topic, please. What if myself or Stanford were there with you and we didn’t leave you alone with the therapist? Would you agree then?”

“...Alright, if you really think it’ll help.”

“Excellent! Thank you, Stan; we’ll get you right as rain before you know it.”

“...Did we really need to talk about this in the afterglow?”

“Yeah we did.”

(...)

“You guys are on your own, I’m not getting in that thing.”

“Stanley, it is just a boat.”

“So was the Titanic, and it disappeared forever.”

“There have been talks about another expedition to find it.”

“Fiddleford, please. Stanley, this isn’t the ocean, this is a mere lake. Scuttlebutt Island is only accessible by boat.”

“I told you I’d help you on your monster hunting bullshit, but you didn’t mention we’d have to get on the water to do it.”

“Come on, at least get closer than the tree line.”

“No!”

“You are being ridiculous right now. You have faced drug lords, Mothman, loan sharks, and the actual Jersey Devil, and this is where you draw the-.”

“I wouldn’t make you do something if you didn’t want to, PhD.”

“...Fine. Stay here and watch over our campsite at least. If we’re not back by tonight-.”

“Yeah, yeah start arranging your funerals, got it.”

(...)

“What are your theories so far on this cryptid, Stanford?”

“Based on descriptions I’ve gathered from local reports, and limited sonar exploration, I believe the description most closely matches a marine reptile that disappeared in the Cretaceous–Paleogene extinction event; a plesiosaur. Or, at the very least, a distant descendant.”

“Sounds less like cryptozoology and more like paleontology. Maybe we should call it something else.”

“Such as?”

“How about Oddopoddo?”

“No.”

“Scuttlebdis?”

“A mouthful, really.”

“The Gobblewonker.”

“We’ll workshop it.”

“Well kettle my corn, it looks like we’re close to the shore; sure are a lot of big muskrats here.”

“Fiddleford, we both know those are beavers and not nutria.”

“Wait- Stanford, stop. Is that big rock formation over there… moving?”

(...)

“Heya Fordsy! You’re invoking Think Fast?”

“Think Fast?”

“You know, when you meditate into the Dreamscape so you can think faster than the time around you. What you’re doing right now.”

“You’ve never called it that before, my muse.”

“I know but for exposition purposes I need to call it something. Whattaya need to Think Fast for?”

“The cryptid we’ve termed “The Gobblewonker” chased us on our boat and trapped us in the islands cove. In an attempt to catch us, the creature slammed itself into the cave wall and triggered a rock slide. We’re trapped in a cavern and it is filling up with water, and the entrance was the only exit we knew of. Fiddleford is also unconscious, and cannot assist me.”

“Ooh, how dangerous. So, what are you going to do about it?”

“I need to be out-of-body while my perception is sped up so I can check for more exits without worrying about water or gravity. 

“Out-of-body experience coming right up, IQ!”

(...)

‘Man, those guys have been gone for a while. They shoulda been back at least an hour ago.’

‘Whatever, PhD’s the monster hunter here, whatever trouble they get into he can probably handle it.’

‘...’

‘And even if he couldn’t, it’s not my problem. I’m only staying with him so I have a bed to sleep in and a roof over my head. It’s not like I actually care.’

‘He did kidnap me and stick me in his basement after all. And sure his friend is hot and gives great benefits, but it's not like he tried to free me even when he knew it was wrong.’

‘...’

‘So what if they might be in danger?'

'It doesn't bother me.’  

‘It doesn't bother me.’

‘It bothers me!’

‘IT BOTHERS ME A LOT!’

(...)

“Fiddleford! Fiddleford, wake up!”

“Ow… my achin’ noggin-. Wha happened?”

“You saw the cryptid and fainted.”

“Where are we? Why’re we all wet?”

“We are trapped in a cavern that the Gobblewonker chased us into. There’s only one exit left - there’s a tunnel through and up this ridge, but it tapers off from loose rocks from a rockslide. You might be thin and flexible enough to squeeze through the hole that remains.”

“What about you?”

“On the other side I’d need you to manually move enough of these rocks so I can slide through as well. We can’t waste any time - the cavern is filling up with water faster than the exit could drain it.”

“Okay, I’ll get through slicker than owl sh-.”

“Fiddleford, this is no time for Southernisms.’

“Right, right. Yeeow, that’s smarts- I got most of both shoulders through Stanford but I’m gonna need a boost.”

“Alright, I‘ll push you on your count of three.”

“Gotcha. One, two, thre-! SWEET BABY JESUS-!”

“Are you okay?”

“I-. I think I w-wrenched out my damn shoulder…”

“Can you relocate it?”

“L-lemme try- HRK! No, not by myself. I’ll try to clear out the rubble with my good arm.”

“Alright but please, with the best of your ability, be quick.”

“Just keep talking to me, friend, I need to know that you’re still breathing back there.”

“It is not getting easier.”

“I’m moving, I’m moving. Just stay with me. We can do this.”

“I’m running out of headspace…”

“Come on- just a few more more rocks to go, I- Stanford? Stanford!”

“Sixer, I’m going to put your body in hibernation, it’s the only way you can preserve oxygen. It’s not cold enough for you to go into that state naturally.”

‘How much time does that buy me, Cipher?’

“About five more lines.”

‘Lines of what?’

“You’re about to find out.”

*water suddenly starts rushing out much faster, and a hand grabs Ford by the collar, dragging him out of the tunnel forcefully*

“-ay? Can you hear me, Stanford?”

“S… Stanley..?”

“Oh good, you came to on your own. I wasn’t gonna ‘kiss of life’ you.”

“Lord have mercy, you gave us a real fright there! You’re still shaking like a leaf on a tree, though.”

“Can you stand, Doc?”

“Y-yes, yes of course. Just- just help me up, please.”

“Yeah yeah, I gotcha.”

“It’s a good thing you came when you did, Stan, I wasn’t getting those rocks cleared fast enough.”

“What’s up with your arm, specs?”

“I dislocated my shoulder going through the tunnel.”

“Need help putting that back? It’s happened to me a couple times.”

“Actually, I think I’d rather- Stan?! Stan no-!”

POP

“There you go, good as new.”

“Ow…”

“Stanley?”

“What’s up?”

“Why’d you come here?”

“You guys were taking too long, figured something was up.”

“But… we are on an island, how did you get here?”

“Details ain’t important.”

“You’re also soaking wet.”

“Can it, PhD. I said details ain’t important.”

To be continued…

[allthemeniveloved]

It Will Come Back - Part 7

Summary: You anxiously awaits the return of the men from the Saint Denis bank job, only for devastating news to shatter the fragile hope they had been clinging to.

wc: 4.1k

ao3 link

tags: high honor John Marston x fem!reader, angst, fluff, hurt comfort, smut, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v, creampie, riding, dirty talk, praising, daddy kink, mentions of death

a/n: Happy Thanksgiving! Was able to crank out this chapter with the parade on in the background!

The swamp air was heavy, clinging to your skin as you paced near the campfire, the light casting flickering shadows across the crumbling walls of Shady Belle. The camp was quieter than usual, the faint hum of crickets and frogs filling the void left by the gang’s usual bickering and bustle. You had barely slept the night before, your fight with John replaying over and over in your mind. The words you’d exchanged felt sharp and raw, and the fear behind them gnawed at you.

You turned at the sound of approaching hoofbeats, your heart leaping despite yourself. Dahlia, who had been grazing nearby, raised her head and let out a soft whinny as John’s figure came into view, his horse moving steadily through the foggy night. He dismounted with practiced ease, his boots hitting the ground with a soft thud, but there was hesitation in his movements, a heaviness in the way he approached.

His eyes found yours almost immediately, and though his jaw was set, his gaze softened as he saw the worry etched across your face. “Darlin’,” he began, his voice low and careful as he stopped a few feet away. “Can we talk?”

You folded your arms, unsure whether to be relieved or angry. “I’ve been waiting for you all day, John,” you said, your tone carrying more hurt than frustration. “Where the hell have you been?”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he took another step closer. “Running errands for Dutch, then just out clearin’ my head,” he admitted. “I shouldn’t have said what I did last night.”

You blinked at him, his words catching you off guard. “You mean calling me ungrateful?”

John winced, his head dipping slightly. “Yeah. That. Look, I didn’t mean it, alright? I was just… frustrated.” He paused, his hands moving to his hips as his voice softened. “You were right, y’know? About Dutch. About all of this. I just didn’t wanna hear it.”

Your arms slowly fell to your sides, the tension in your shoulders easing slightly as your voice fell to a whisper. “John, I’m not trying to turn you against Dutch,” you said quietly, stepping closer to him. “I just… I’m scared. I’m scared of what he’s turning this gang into, and I’m scared of what it’s doing to you.”

His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the guarded expression he so often wore crumbled. “I know,” he murmured, his voice raw. “And I hate that I’ve been makin’ it worse for you. I don’t want you thinkin’ I don’t care, ‘cause I do. More than I know how to say sometimes.”

Your chest tightened, his words hitting you harder than you expected. Without thinking, you reached for his hand, your fingers curling around his. “Then don’t push me away,” you said, your voice almost a whisper. “We’ve gotta stick together, John. You and me.”

He gave a small, lopsided smile, squeezing your hand in return. “We will,” he said, his tone firm now. “I ain’t lettin’ anything come between us again. I promise.”

The weight of the past day seemed to lift slightly as he pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your cheek was grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to believe that things might be okay—at least for now.

"Come, take a walk with me love." John ushered you with his gentle hand on your lower back as you begin walking behind the house. The soft murmur of camp faded as you followed John around to the back of Shady Belle, the crumbling mansion walls casting long shadows over the overgrown grass. The air back here was quieter, the swamp sounds more distant, and the two of you found a small, secluded patch where the moss-covered ground felt softer beneath your boots. He stopped and turned to you, his expression unguarded for the first time in what felt like days, his eyes catching the faint glow of the moonlight.

“Darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with emotion as he reached for your hand. “I hate fightin’ with you. Feels like the one thing I can’t stand to lose is us.”

Your chest tightened at his words, and you stepped closer, your fingers lacing with his. “I hate it too,” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “But I don’t want to lose you, John. Not to Dutch, not to this life."

He cupped your face gently, his calloused thumbs brushing over your cheeks as his gaze softened. “You won’t,” he said firmly, leaning his forehead against yours. “I swear to you, I’ll always find my way back to you.”

The words hung in the stillness between you, and then his lips found yours, slow and tender at first, but growing deeper as his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you flush against him. His warmth chased away the lingering tension, leaving only the soft hum of the swamp and the quiet promise in his embrace. The weight of the world seemed to lift, and all that mattered was the feel of his heart beating steadily against yours.

You reached for his shirt and fisted the cotton fabric, pulling him closer.

John's hands smoothed up and down your back.

“Sweetheart,” he mumbled into the embrace.

You broke away slightly.

“Don’t talk, just touch me. Please.”

John’s voice was low, almost hesitant, as he glanced around the quiet, shadowed corner of Shady Belle and asked, “Here?” You nodded, your voice soft but certain as you looked up at him, the tension in the air electric. “Yes, here.”

“Fuck,” the word tore from John's throat in groan so guttural it sent a shiver up your spine. John grabbed your hand with a quick, mischievous grin and pulled you behind the dilapidated shack at the edge of Shady Belle, the shadows offering a private refuge from the rest of the camp. “C’mon, darlin’,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing as he backed you gently against the wall, his eyes filled with that familiar spark you couldn’t resist. Dropping down to his knee without a second thought and lifting your knee length skirt, he doesn’t even bother pulling your undergarments off all the way. His fingers part your folds and he dives in, tongue slipping through your slit before moving up and circling your clit. You whine along with his ministrations, fingers falling to tangle in his long raven hair and tugging.

You can only just hold in the noises building in your throat as he moves like a man starved, pressing his mouth into you as his tongue probes and swirls and practically drinks you down. His lips latch around your clit, sucking sharply on the aching nerve and tearing a whimper from your chest.

It only took mere seconds for John to push you to a point where you couldn’t stay still, your body trying to escape the pleasureful torture while your heart wanted more. He was strong so he had no problem pinning you to the wall while his mouth continued to worship your cunt, tongue lapping at your clit and then your entrance. The sounds of your wet folds being worshiped by him were filthy.

You cum against his mouth with a broken gasp, your hand tightening in his hair to the brink of pain and he delights in it, his groan vibrating against your pussy only intensifying the high your body crashes through. His blunt nails leave crescent moons in the back of your thigh, digging into your flesh just under the swell of your ass as he keeps you against his mouth.

“G-god daddy, calm down –” you whimper, legs twitching and knees weak with the threat of giving out completely. Only then did he let you go.

Raising up and dropping his gun belt, John found his place on a nearby creaking wooden chair and leaned back, the faint smirk on his lips growing as he patted his knee and tilted his head toward you. “C’mere, darlin’,” he drawled softly, his voice low and inviting, as his eyes locked on yours with an undeniable warmth. You didn't hesitate before shedding your undergarments entirely and stepping closer, the lustful pull of his gaze leaving you no room to resist. As you settled onto his lap, his hands finding your waist, he holds you close and firm as he murmured, “That’s more like it."

Your eyes caught sight of John’s hat, discarded nearby his feet, and with a playful grin, you bent down to scoop it up and place it on your head. When you turned back to face him, he froze, his eyes softening as a slow, adoring smile spread across his face. “Well, look at you,” he drawled, his voice warm and low, “never thought my hat could look that damn good.” You feel his cock twitch underneath your core at the sight. “Guess it’s mine now, Marston."

Your eyes adjust to the low light, taking in the full sight before you. John's hand unbuttoned his pants and had pulled himself out, stroking his cock, thumb swiping over the tip after every few pumps.

“Daddy- your cock, please,” you sputter out all too fast, groaning as you meet his lustful gaze.

“That eager huh?” he jabs and your response dies in your throat as he slides into you; pushing your hips down so he bottoms out. Moans leave from both of your mouths’ and John presses his forehead to yours. He moves to latch his lips to your collarbone as you adjust to him, marking you as his from your neck to low on your decolletage. Slowly, you lift yourself halfway up over his cock before dropping back down. His hands aide you as you set a steady pace for yourself, enjoying the stretch of him. He can’t keep his own hips still, meeting you with sharp thrusts but not enough to knock you off your rhythm.

“More.” It’s a demand, hot need laced in his tone. It hurts in the best of ways, the solid slam of his cock hitting deep within you with every ram of his hips. You can feel the untamed rage building in his movements, his jaw tense and strained as he moves.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this, angel. All mine."

“Ain’t nobody gonna make you feel like this again, you hear me?” The fierce, almost possessive edge in his tone sent a shiver down your spine, leaving you momentarily speechless as you tried to process the intensity of his words. "Only me." he finishes.

You blinked, his fierce words catching you off guard, but instead of pulling away, you moaned louder, your arms resting around his neck. “I know, John,” you said softly, your voice tinged with warmth and lust as you met his intense gaze. “And for the record, I don’t want anyone else near me either.”

“Good, cause I ain’t about to share what’s mine.” he growls against your throat. His voice and the scratch of his stubble makes you want to whine but you bite back the noise. He bucks his hips up into you faster and you throw your head back, muffled cries building in your chest.

It’s intimate, being so close to him, despite the unforgiving way his fingers dig into your waist. Your mouths meet in a hot mess of tongue and teeth while you continuously drop your hips, clit catching and rubbing along the neat patch of curls covering his pubic bone, rutting harder against him for more friction.

“That’s it, angel. You're doing so good for me.” the soft praise makes your toes curl.

"I'm so close," the pleasure inside of you nearly bursting at the seams. His hand comes around your throat and yanks you to the side before his teeth are sinking into your neck, not a single break in his hard, pounding rhythm. That alone sends you over the edge as the coil in your belly snaps and your body convulses in John's arms as he followed you over the edge. He growled out a moan and pulled you down onto his lap, holding you in place as he spilled into you, your cunt milking him down to the very last drop.

“Fuck me,” John groaned, keeping his head buried in the crook of your neck. Your panting breaths mixed together in the humid air surrounding you both as you attempted to catch your breath, your head leaning forward once more to rest on his shoulder as your body went limp.

John reached up with a slow, teasing grin, his fingers brushing against yours as he gently lifted the hat from your head. “I think this belongs to me, darlin’,” he drawled, his voice soft yet filled with playful affection as he set it back on his own. “Though, I’ll admit, it’s hard to wear it knowing how damn good you looked in it.”

You laughed softly at his words, your cheeks warming as his gaze lingered, full of that familiar, unspoken affection that always left you breathless. His hand didn’t leave the brim of his hat, instead tilting it slightly as he leaned closer, his eyes flicking to your lips before meeting yours again.

“Y’know,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, “I might need to find a reason to lend it to you again.”

You smirked, your heart racing as you reached out, your fingers lightly tugging at his shirt. “Who says you need a reason?” you whispered back, your voice barely audible above the hum of the swamp.

That was all it took. John closed the distance between you once more, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was slow and deliberate, filled with a tenderness that made the world around you blur. His hand came to rest against your jaw, tilting your face up toward him as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to let you go.

When the kiss broke, you stayed close, your foreheads pressed together as you both caught your breath. His voice was soft, a playful edge still clinging to it as he whispered, “You really are trouble, darlin’. But you’re my kinda trouble.”

-

The soft glow of morning filtered through the crumbling windows of Shady Belle, casting streaks of golden light over the worn wood floors. The swamp outside was already alive with the sound of frogs and insects, but inside the mansion, camp was still stirring awake. You sat on the porch with a steaming tin cup of coffee in your hands, feeling the cool morning air brush against your skin. The events of the previous night still clung to your thoughts, but the tension between you and John had eased, replaced by a cautious sense of calm and warmth.

John appeared from the house, his steps deliberate but quieter than usual. He rubbed the back of his neck as he approached, his expression unreadable, but there was something in the way he avoided your gaze that made your stomach twist. He sat down beside you, close enough for your shoulders to brush with his own coffee mug in his hand. For a moment, he just sipped in silence, the distant chatter of the gang filling the gaps between you.

Finally, you turned to him, concern flickering in your chest. “John, what’s on your mind?” you asked softly, your voice breaking through the stillness.

He let out a long sigh, setting his coffee down and leaning forward, his elbows resting on his knees. “Dutch’s got a plan,” he said finally, his voice low and careful. “We’re hittin’ the Saint Denis bank.”

The words hit you like a punch to the chest. You blinked at him, your pulse quickening as the gravity of what he said sank in. “The Saint Denis bank?” you repeated, your voice rising slightly in disbelief. “John, that’s… that’s insane. The Pinkertons are already breathing down our necks, and now Dutch wants to poke the bear?”

“I know,” John said quickly, turning to face you. “I know it’s risky. Hell, I know it’s dangerous. But Dutch… he thinks this is it. The big one. Enough money to get us all out for good.”

You shook your head, your heart racing. “And you believe him?” you asked, your voice cracking with the weight of your fear. “John, you’ve seen what his ‘big plans’ have done to this gang. To us. Please, don’t do this." You grabbed his arm, your voice trembling with desperation as you pleaded, “John, something about this bank job doesn’t feel right—please, don’t go.” Your eyes searched his, tears threatening to spill as you whispered,

John’s jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists as he leaned closer. “I don’t believe him,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a murmur. “But this ain’t about Dutch. This is… this is somethin’ I’ve gotta do. A parting gift, y’know? For the man who raised me, for everything he’s done for me—even if it’s gone sideways now.”

You stared at him, tears stinging your eyes as you struggled to find the words. “John,” you whispered, reaching out to grip his hand. “We can leave now. Forget the bank, forget Dutch. We can go, and get out before it’s too late.”

His hand squeezed yours, but his gaze was steady, resolute. “Darlin’,” he said softly, brushing his thumb over your knuckles, “I made a promise to Dutch once, and this is me keepin’ it. But after this, I’m done. I swear to you, this is the last time. Tomorrow, we’ll pack up and leave. You, me, - we’ll start over, far away from all this.”

You searched his face for a sign of doubt, of hesitation, but all you saw was his stubborn determination. The knot in your stomach grew tighter as you nodded reluctantly, your voice barely audible. “Tomorrow,” you echoed, the word hollow in your mouth.

John leaned forward, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. “I promise,” he said again, his voice tender but firm. “Just one more job, and we’re free.”

But as he pulled back and gave you a faint smile, the sinking feeling in your chest only deepened. You watched him gather his things and step away, your heart heavy with the unshakable fear that tomorrow might never come.

Later, the camp was bustling with activity as the gang readied themselves to head into Saint Denis, the tension in the air as thick as the swamp mist that clung to the ground. You stood off to the side, watching as horses were saddled and weapons were checked, your stomach churning with dread. John was among them, his face set with a determination you knew was meant to mask his own unease. His figure, so familiar and steady, looked almost distant now, and every instinct in your body screamed for you to stop him.

When he finally approached you, his saddlebags slung over his shoulder, you stepped forward, your voice cracking as you called out to him. “John, wait—please.”

He paused, his shoulders tensing before he turned to face you. The expression on his face was guarded, but the flicker of regret in his eyes was unmistakable. “Darlin’, we’ve been over this,” he said softly, his voice low to keep your conversation from carrying to the others. “I have to do this. It’s the last thing, I swear.” You grabbed his arm, gripping it tightly as your heart raced.

"I can’t… I can’t lose you.”

For a moment, he looked torn, his jaw tightening as he glanced back at the others mounting their horses. Then he reached up, his hand gently cupping your cheek as he leaned in, his forehead brushing against yours. “I’m comin’ back to you,” he murmured, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling between you. “This is just somethin’ I gotta do. For Dutch, for the gang. But tomorrow? Tomorrow it’s just us. I promise.”

The warmth of his touch and the certainty in his voice only made the sinking feeling in your chest grow heavier. You nodded reluctantly, tears threatening to spill as you whispered, “Tomorrow. You better keep that promise, John.”

He gave you a small, crooked smile, his thumb brushing lightly over your cheek before he stepped back, his hand falling away as he turned toward his horse. “I always do,” he said quietly, his voice carrying a flicker of confidence you weren’t sure he fully believed.

You watched him mount up, your heart pounding as he joined the others and rode off, his figure disappearing into the foggy horizon. The sounds of their departure echoed faintly in the still air, and as you stood there, the gnawing unease in your stomach twisted into something sharper—something you couldn’t ignore. You clenched your fists, silently vowing to be ready for whatever came next, whether that meant waiting for him or finding a way to save him from the path he’d chosen.

-

The sun dipped lower into the horizon, casting long shadows over Shady Belle as you wandered anxiously around camp, unable to settle. Every sound from the swamp—every rustling branch, every distant birdcall—made your heart leap, hoping it was the sound of hooves returning. But as the hours dragged on, the unease in your chest grew heavier, settling like a stone. The gang was quiet, their usual chatter replaced by tense glances and murmured concerns. You paced near the edge of camp, your hands twisting nervously, unable to stop the cascade of worst-case scenarios playing out in your mind. Where were they? Why hadn’t they returned? The sinking feeling that had plagued you before John left now felt like an unbearable weight.

As darkness finally fell, the soft crunch of footsteps broke the oppressive silence, and you turned to see Abigail stumbling into camp. Her face was pale, her cheeks streaked with tears, and her hands trembled as she clutched Jack to her chest. The sight of her hit you like a punch, and your stomach turned as you ran to her. “Abigail,” you said, your voice shaking, “what happened? Where’s John? Where’s the rest of them?” She shook her head, her voice cracking as she spoke, her words spilling out in broken sobs. “Hosea—” she started, her voice faltering. “They killed him. Right there in front of Dutch.” Her knees buckled slightly, and you steadied her, your heart racing as she continued. “Lenny didn’t make it out either. And John—” She stopped, meeting your wide, fearful eyes. “John got arrested. They took him. I don’t know where… I don’t know if he’s okay.” Her words struck like lightning, leaving you breathless as the enormity of what she’d said settled in. The men weren’t coming back tonight—and John, your John, was gone.

The world around you seemed to tilt and blur as Abigail’s words echoed in your mind: Hosea dead. Lenny gone. John arrested. Your knees buckled, and you stumbled back, your hand gripping the edge of a barrel to steady yourself as your breath came in sharp, shallow gasps. The camp noises around you faded into a distant hum, replaced by the relentless pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. Your chest tightened painfully, the weight of grief and fear pressing down like a crushing force, making it impossible to catch your breath.

“No,” you whispered, your voice trembling as tears welled up, blurring your vision. “No, no, no—this can’t be happening.” The words felt hollow, desperate, like saying them might somehow undo the nightmare. Your hands trembled uncontrollably as you pressed them against your face, the tears spilling freely now. Images of Hosea’s calm, fatherly demeanor and Lenny’s infectious laughter flashed through your mind, now cruelly replaced by the knowledge that they were gone forever. But it was the thought of John—imprisoned, alone, and out of reach—that broke you. You gasped for air, your shoulders shaking violently as the panic consumed you, and all you could feel was the unbearable weight of losing him, of not knowing if he was alive or if you’d ever see him again. You barely registered the arms that wrapped around you, someone murmuring soft reassurances, as your world crumbled under the weight of your worst fears.

They're going to hang him, was the last thought that rushed through your mind.

꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰꧂꧁✰

tag list: @photo1030

[lover-of-mine]

OK since you brought up the Tommy break up thing, well I'm weighing in because this has been bothering me with the narrative it has anything to do with sexuality

Honestly, if you disagree, please enlighten me because I would love to know.

IRL. I dated a guy who had a girl best friend. It didn't bother me at all. She was cool. But after a few months we were out shopping and he saw something that reminded him of her and he got it. Still not threatened but started watching. After subtle questions it was clear they had never been single at the same time. The way he talked about her, seriously subconsciously in love with her. When I did catch deeper feelings, I did initiative a friendly break up. I wasn't jealous or petty. Never even mentioned her. But in the back of mind it was clear. If she ever game him the chance he would probably take it. Who knows how deep I would have been then.

Honestly both the nicest people. To this day nothing has happened between them that brings me to my next point. She maybe wasn't subconsciously in love with him. She never showed any jealousy to me. But the point was I knew he was. That's Tommy's story. If you didn't catch it by his surprised me in E4 then I can't help you.

Them screaming Eddie's straight. It doesn't matter. Tommy knew from the beginning there was a third person in their relationship. He was having fun but avoided the feelings catch. He saw them together. He knows!!!

Long story short take the sexuality out of it. The story makes complete sense. Buck and Eddie were always going to be shadows in each other's relationships. Tommy was just the first to really see.

I totally agree. I was the girl best friend, and not going to detail on how I actually imploded my oldest friendship, my whole life if he got a girlfriend she never reacted well to me and i was always ready to say it's not like that, he's family, and all that. Hell, the day that I realized that I might have been in love with him, I actually like I laughed at the idea of being his girlfriend because someone assumed and then something happened and I was like oh fuck. I never thought about it like that, but he was the only person that my ex would go 🤨, all of his girlfriends I needed to prove myself too (i never had a problem with it, I knew what it looked like it but for me it wasn't like that until it was), it was always a situation where I felt like they were seeing something that we weren't. Now with the current clarity I have about the situation, I'm like okay I see it now, I guess there was something there, I just wasn't aware of it. And Tommy has a clarity that none of Buck's girlfriends had, that it's the fact that he knows Buck is queer. And when you take that into consideration and you look at his relationship with Eddie, there is only so much you can do without being like, okay how long until you wake up and realize you're in love with him. So I think it's a lot about protecting himself in the long run, it's not about sexuality, it's about the fact that Tommy has an insight to Buck and Eddie's relationships that none of the girlfriends ever had. He sees them from an outsider point of view and he has the knowledge that Buck's queer and knowing that it's harder to ignore it, to not be like, yeah how long until I'm in too deep and he realizes his feelings. So yeah, I don't think it's was about the sexuality at all, it was about the the fear of getting into deep and wondering what would happen if Eddie became an option.

[little-jana]

"Under The Radar"

Part 1 - Part 2

Pairing: Spencer Reid x reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: light teasing, use of Y/N

Words: 1.1k

Summary: The team teasingly notices their change in dynamics while working on a new case.

The next few days passed in a blur of cases and paperwork, but something between Spencer and I had undeniably shifted. The kiss—unexpected, quiet, but somehow significant—lingered in the space between us. It wasn’t mentioned aloud, but we both knew it had happened. And every time our eyes met, I could feel the unspoken understanding.

Today, however, we were back in the thick of things. The case was urgent—another missing person—and the team was gathered in the bullpen, piecing together the clues. Spencer had his usual spot at his desk, but there was something different in the air. Maybe it was the slight, nervous glint in his eyes when he’d caught my gaze earlier, or the subtle way he kept glancing over at me. Whatever it was, it felt like something was just under the surface, waiting to bubble up.

“Alright, team,” Hotch began, gathering everyone’s attention. “We’ve got a new lead on the missing girl. JJ, you and Reid, follow up with the local PD. The rest of us will continue canvassing the area.”

“Got it,” JJ said, nodding, though her eyes shifted between Spencer and me for a brief moment. She didn’t miss much, and I could tell she was already suspicious about the sudden shift in our dynamic.

Spencer grabbed his jacket and gave me a brief smile before turning to follow JJ. “Let’s go, partner,” he said, his voice a little too casual, as though he were trying to act unaffected by what had happened between us. But I could see the small tremor in his hand as he reached for the door.

“Don’t look so nervous, Reid,” I teased softly, following him into the hallway. “It’s just a case, remember?”

“I’m not nervous,” he said quickly, but his voice wavered just slightly. He adjusted his glasses, a nervous habit that made me smile. “I’m fine. Just... focused.”

The drive to the local PD was quiet, save for the occasional comment from JJ about the case. Spencer, as usual, was deep in thought, his eyes flicking from his notebook to the street signs outside the window. I couldn’t help but notice how the faintest hint of a smile played at his lips, as though he was trying to hide the warmth that had settled in his chest after our kiss. I wondered if he realized just how much that small gesture had changed things. For both of us.

As we pulled up to the station, Spencer broke the silence again, this time with a question that made me blink.

“So… um, do you think the team’s noticed?” he asked, his voice low, almost embarrassed.

“Noticed what?” I asked innocently, though I had a feeling I knew exactly what he was referring to.

“You know…” he mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Us. That we... well, kissed.”

I tried not to laugh, but the image of Spencer—intelligent, analytical Spencer—looking so nervous over something as simple as a kiss made my heart swell. “I don’t think they’ve noticed anything. At least not yet.”

“Good,” he said, exhaling as if he’d just avoided a bullet. “Because I’m not... I mean, we don’t have to—”

“Spencer,” I cut in gently, placing a hand on his arm to stop his rambling. “It’s okay. You don’t have to explain yourself. We’re fine. And if anyone notices, well... that’s not the end of the world, right?”

Spencer met my gaze, his nervousness melting into something a little more thoughtful. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

As we entered the building, we were met by the local officers, who were quick to show us the latest developments. It didn’t take long before we were deep into the investigation, our usual rhythm kicking in as we worked together, analyzing the evidence and making quick observations. Spencer seemed to settle into his familiar zone, and for a while, I almost forgot about the tension that had been hovering between us.

That was, until we returned to the bullpen and the team was waiting for us.

“Well, look who’s back!” Derek Morgan said with a grin, leaning against the doorframe of the bullpen as we entered. “Reid, you and [Y/N] look like you just walked off a date. Everything go alright?”

I saw Spencer freeze for a fraction of a second, his eyes wide behind his glasses. I quickly shot Derek a playful glare. “You’re imagining things, Morgan,” I said, trying to keep my voice light. “We were just working.”

“Oh, sure, just working,” Morgan teased, stepping closer. “Reid’s face is practically glowing. If you two didn’t kiss, I’ll eat my hat.”

“Derek,” Spencer said, his voice a little too high-pitched for his usual tone, “that’s... not... I mean, we didn’t...”

“Relax, Spence,” JJ chimed in, crossing her arms and smiling knowingly. “You’re not fooling anyone.”

Reid looked around nervously, clearly trying to stay composed, but I could see the color rising in his cheeks. It was clear the team had already picked up on something, but it didn’t seem to bother him as much as I expected.

“Okay, okay,” Hotch interjected, shaking his head with a small smile. “Enough teasing. We have a job to do. But,” he added, his voice slightly amused, “next time you two decide to... ‘just work’ in private, keep it under wraps. We don’t need any distractions.”

Spencer, looking mortified but also relieved that the teasing was over, gave a small nod, and I could feel his embarrassment through the air. But I wasn’t going to let him off the hook that easily. As I passed him on my way to the next case file, I leaned in and whispered, “Maybe you should embrace the germs, Reid. You never know... it might be worth it.”

He looked at me, his expression a mixture of shock and amusement, before he blurted out, “I’ll take my chances.”

And for the first time since that kiss, I saw Spencer Reid — perfectly imperfect Spencer Reid — smile in a way that made my heart flutter.