#sorry for disappearing off of the face of the earth for like a month

[catboyglover]

todd would bite neil to show affection. send post

[ethan-acfan]

Imagine desmond manages to survive the end and has to go back into normal society.

Now, this is remembering the fact that Desmond has lived through so many lives that he can barely remember his own. Along with the fact that he is now part Isu due to his arm absorbing power from the eye.

I feel like due to him being part Isu now, no one would trust him. They would be able to sense something is wrong, that he's not fully human. But they are also weirdly drawn to him and feel compelled to do as he asks.

And when they look in his eyes, they see the lives of dozens of people. Millions of memories cramped inside his head to the point he could barely think. If you look into his eyes for too long, you can almost hear the crowd of voices.

He also has many weird habits. He is very picky about keeping knives sharp and always holds himself as if he's prepared for a fight at all times. Sometimes, he starts talking with an unfamiliar accent or will switch languages entirely, and they are almost never the same.

Or when he gets mad, the area around him reeks of ozone from his arm. One time, a guy was harassing a girl on the street, and his arm crackled and caught his hoodie on fire. He didn't notice until the guy ran away screaming "fire!" And when he realized, he just sighed, pulled off his hoodie, and stopped out the fire like it was a normal Tuesday.

Other times, he will randomly look over his shoulder as if someone called his name even though no one was there. He then just sighs, mutters something in a different language, and goes back to his conversation.

One time, you asked him to grab you something from across the bar and immediately disappeared into the crowd. You were completely unable to see him despite him being perfectly in view just seconds ago. You don't find him again until he taps your shoulder and silently hands you what you asked for. You have no clue how he managed to come up behind you like that. Especially because you were behind the bar, and you kept one eye on the only entrance the entire time.

[starofthesea7]

König~Worship the King

Your eyes traced the huge mass of muscle in front of you. Fresh from the field, he looked exhausted, primal- his canvas pants still splattered with mud and god knows what else. Arms shiny with sweat and rain, leg bouncing absentmindedly, his head was still a void, swimming with pictures of death and devastation. His eyes were focused on a bowl of stew, dwarfed by his huge, muscled hands. Pale fingers against white ceramic.

‘You can take the mask off to eat your food, I have to clean up your face anyway. In fact I should look at that first.” Your voice was soft, hesitant. Afraid of startling him, even though little could do so.

Dark fabric folded as he shook his head gently. “After. I don’t want it to…” he searched for the word in English, “to scare you. Yet” His voice was rough and tired, laced thickly with an accent, german. Your heart twinged at his words.

“You couldn’t scare me.” You attempted a reassuring smile. König. King. A very fitting name for the enigma in front of you, and yet in some ways not fitting at all. True he was imposing. Large. Stately. Yet he was gentle, anxious, even, when he was in close proximity to others. Under scrutiny. He was anxious when it came to people, most of all you. He was good at hiding it though, to you it seemed an aloofness, perhaps even a polite disinterest, that he felt towards you. A simple nod in greeting as he passed you was the most you could hope to receive.

Now you stood in between his enormous thighs which he’d spread just far enough apart to avoid grazing yours, the air between them thick with tension. You rolled up his dark sleeve, doing your best to ignore the rippling muscle beneath. They way it flexed which each ascent of his spoon, before it disappeared underneath black cloth, then reappeared, empty. He barely flinched as you dabbed an alcohol pad across the gaping wound on his shoulder. Blood glistened carmine.

Oxymoron was a more fitting name, you thought. Perhaps it was too long for a nickname. He truly was a paradox, though. So colossal, yet reserved. So immense yet quiet, even gentle. He was a man of few words. A wave waiting to crash, or a volcano waiting to erupt.

Your voice broke the silence, surprising you both. It felt small. “Feel okay?” He was nervous, although you couldn’t see it, underneath the mask. He wasn’t really afraid of you, more afraid of hurting you, or scaring you. With his weight. His scars, his is strength.

His eyes raised to meet yours. Although he was sitting, they were level with your own. A cold, pale olive green. “Ja. Thank you. I am sorry for waking you for this little scratch.” When you’d gotten a call that he’d needed a small patch job, admittedly you’d jumped at the chance to see him. You’d been drawn to the Austrian giant since you’d arrived a month ago. You liked his presence, it was safe, a shield to all else. Nothing could touch you with him there. No amount of horny jeering men, or loaded guns.

“It’s not a just scratch, König, its a big gash. And I haven’t even gotten to your face yet. Plus, I couldn’t sleep anyway, I’m happy to do it.” You rambled, feeling the burn of his eyes on yours, studying your face as you concentrated, threading a sterile needle. You stepped forward, into him, bumping his leg. He smelled like earth, and motor oil. Faintly of cigarettes and metallic blood. The heady odour was thick, collocating with the rubbing alcohol of your sterile office.

“Deep breath.” You felt silly, instructing a man who’d murdered countless men in the past week to do a breathing excersise, but he obeyed, the soft, raspy sound making your knees weak, and your imagination run wild. You blinked and regained focus, before puncturing the skin. His eyes fixed on your face, unwavering. You counted the stitches. Eleven, black and neat, in a row. “Aaand…done.” You cut the thread. “And not even a flinch.” You smiled at him, and his eyes crinkled, barely.

You gently rubbed it with ointment and wiped your hands on a towel, blood staining it crimson. You noticed his thighs now resting against yours. They were warm, and dirt from them stained your kaki pants but your hardly cared. “Ok. Ready for the mask?” You felt nervous, more nervous than he looked. It felt monumental, an enigma becoming real, smoke condensing into man.

You’d thought about what he looked like, but only in patches, certain features imagined while the rest of the picture was more of a blurred haze. Pale skin and light eyes. Dark or light hair? A sharp jaw or weak and soft? You couldn’t really imagine him being ugly, and truly, you felt you’d be attracted to him regardless, like opposite poles of a magnet. North and south. Dark and light, soft and hard.

He cleared his throat, and set the empty bowl down beside him. His eyes held yours vehemently, and large hands raised black cloth, revealing a pale, broad column of neck, a white scar gracing one side. You wanted to graze it with your lips. His lips were split, bitten and red. And inviting. A glint of teeth and a jaw, sharp with a whisper of stubble. The cloth clung to a splatter of blood and small cuts now integrated with old scars, and a few pieces of shrapnel that traveled up to a deep, glistening slice. Caked blood ran down his temple. His nose was sharp and slightly crooked, veering to the right in an endearing way, as if it had been broken when he was a child.

Then, his eyes, deep set and soft, framed with long lashes and crowned with sharp brows, one interrupted by a large, aged scar. Finally, hair, light, light brown, almost blonde, with a tinge of red, tumbled out. It was tied back with an elastic, but not long, as if he was in need of a trim, shorter pieces falling across his forehead. His head tilted back as he looked at you, silently, daring you to react to his intimate sign of trust.

You breathed out. It wasn’t what you had expected. His face was, interesting. Attractive. Younger than you’d imagined. A sharp canine pressed into his lip. You let out a breath, and raised a hand to his jaw, feeling it clench beneath your fingers, tilting his face up towards artificial light. His lips parted, adams apple bobbing. “You should’ve let me do your face first.”

“Sorry.” His voice was soft, ragged.

You reached for a pair of pointed tweezers and began removing each piece of shrapnel from his face. The night was quiet, save for for soft breaths. His was hot against your cheek. “König.” Chunks of metal and stone clanged into a small aluminum bowl. He hummed in response.

“You could never scare me.”

He smiled softly at you, slightly crooked.

Without meaning to, your thumb stroked the soft skin of his jaw. His legs tightened against you, barely, but your heart quickened against your ribcage.

Again, you soaked the wounds in alcohol. You could tell it stung. His fingers began absentmindedly drumming against your hip, leaving hot tingles in their wake. You moved to the cut on his lip, he hissed quietly as you made contact with the cotton pad. Your eyes were focused, pupils blown wide as you stared at his lips. His hot tongue peeking out from behind pink bloodied skin.

Your voice was quiet, distant, “You have a pretty bad split lip, I’m gonna put a little stitch in it.”

He swallowed hoarsely, “Okay.”

You were close, so close to him, breaths mingling in the hot air. His scent enveloped you. He enveloped you. You weren’t particularly small, but to him you were. Fragile. The needle ruptured his lip and his hand gripped at your waist, heavy and large. You leaned into him, lower stomach barely grazing the split of his pants. He shifted in thick canvas.

Your hand shifted, cupping his jaw as you cut the thread. His eyes were heavy with fatigue, and something else. You looked at each other with neediness, both in awe of how the other contained all that they could ever want- him to satiate your emptiness, you to soothe his aching burn. A month of passing glances and unsaid words threatened to morph into action; spurred on by the arousal of seclusion and stagnation after the high of adrenaline, the heady scent of blood, metal, alcohol.

You leaned in and felt his hand tighten against you hip, You were inches from him, the air between you buzzed as opposites attracted, pulled you towards him. His mouth widened as he leaned into you. Your soft, plush lips grazed his, barely, and he pulled you into him, emitting a soft sound. Mouths opened wide with need. He was metal, cigarettes and gasoline, the taste and smell making you unsteady, faint. You gripped his shirt tightly, his mass keeping you from falling, or perhaps from floating away.

Deft, strong fingers found the back of your head. Scalp prickling as he pulled at your hair. You were slick.

He groaned slightly into your mouth, and your hands found his hair, fisting it free from the elastic band, copper locks brushing your forehead, stubble brash against your reddening cheeks.

His large warm hand traced from your hip down, raising your leg to straddle his thigh. Hot, hard muscle against your softness. You let out an involuntary airy moan as the seam of your jeans jabbed into your clit, cunt clenching around nothing, deprived and empty.

You lifted your other leg to straddle him fully, clothed cunt contracting at the friction against pelvis, you could feel him, large, hard, heavy and confined. It made you hot with need. You pulled back to stare at him, pupils blown, lips puffy. His hips bucked up into you, searching for friction and release, his brows furrowed. Colossal hands found your waist beneath your shirt, opposite fingers almost touching around your circumference. His fingers were calloused and rough. Feeling his hot skin against yours made you reel with thoughts of at the way he dwarfed you, dominated you with the simplest of actions. The fact that he could fill your emptiness, stretch you to the brink, overwhelm you, crush you- was inebriating.

“I-” he searched for the right words, “I want you. Ich brauche dich.” You smiled at his mother tongue appearing, as it often did in states of intoxication.

You pressed your mouth to his neck, with an open mouthed kiss, feeling the bump of his scar as he swallowed, and looked up at him through wet lashes. Grinding your hips against him, making him groan, cock twitching, hyper sensitive from months of neglect. You maundered, “Let me make you feel good, König.” Your voice was airy and laced with fervour. His eyes were glassy and lidded as he looked down at you, hair falling across his forehead, glistening with sweat. His head swam, the situation feeling far to good to be true, an intoxicated dream or adrenaline spurred hallucination. His blunt fingernails clutched at your waist harshly, leaving half moons in their wake.

Your eyes flickered to a stain of precum darkening the crotch of his thick pants as you rose to your feet, his hands gripped his thighs in restraint, watching you in anticipation. Then, you knelt to the ground to worship your king.

[bloodwrittenletters]

YOU SAID 'forever' AND I ALMOST BOUGHT IT

pairing . . . percy jackson x fem!mortal!reader

the cassette playing . . . i miss you, i'm sorry! gracie abrams

the letter reads . . . you loved your boyfriend, but maybe he didn't love you enough to stay— or to say the whole truth.

warnings . . . cursing (just a bit), ANGST, some comedic relief (very tiny).

a/n . . . soooo......... long time no see!! i was thinking of making headcanons out of this but settled for a fic, and i'm thinking maybe doing a part 2????? i dunno, i guess we'll see 😁 also, I just recently discovered jellycats and THEY ARE SO CUTE?? I need one in my life.

many months ago, in the epitome of heart aches of many, your love had been given to a boy with a pained soul with your first kiss. it was percy's sixteen birthday, just after the battle of Manhattan had ended— one that you along with many others had thought it was an attack to the Empire State Building, and he was hurt. you knew he had been involved in some way, he was the one you woke up to be holding you, he was the one who wet your cheeks with his own tears.

you didn't ask about it, didn't question it, just as soon as you could form a logical thought— you were holding him to your heart.

percy and you have been neighbors since you both were thirteen, after his mom and him had moved into the apartment just bellow yours. the friendship blossomed when after some kids from his school decided that it was funny to terrorize him at home, too. and his crush on you had started when you showed with a umbrella ready to chase them off one hit at the time.

the rest of your relationship went down with soft touches, pinning from both sides, and sweet notes during his time at home— which wasn't a lot due to his time in his all holy super camp.

still, the both of you had cherished the little moments you two could share together. and in his sixteen birthday, you decided to seal the deal by gifting him your first kiss.

after long talks, a lot of reassurance for percy's wounded heart, and many excuses, it happened. four whole months of plain love and happiness, with little sides of bits of truths he could offer you.

'my family is... messy, so messy. i can't even tell you about it,' he said once. and you understood and promised to wait until he could spill the beans.

that was, until he disappeared from the face of the earth.

you fell asleep in his arm after playing Moana for him, and the next morning, there was nothing but a peacock feather tangled into your hair. like it was some fucking joke. no lover. no percy was at the scene.

for the next week, you were livid, searching through every street in new york you could get past through.

until annabeth chase, percy's bestie 2# and someone who you couldn't decide if you wanted to be friends or run for your life from, and grover underwood, percy's bestie 1# took over the case.

you were left in his room, wearing his hoodie and crying into his pillow until you passed out. you and his mom held yourselves together— at least that was what it seemed for an outsider.

your heart was irreparable, months started to pass and there was no signs from him. dreams that once gave you a sweet relief started to turn sour and not even in the darkest time of the day you were able to escape the pain.

one month, two, three... it seemed endless, and soon you were left with nothing but the memories of him. since the tears you had shred for him had washed away the smell of him from his clothes, and your lips couldn't remember how sweet his mouth was.

percy jackson was gone.

four months, five, and six, and there was only anger bottling up inside you. more and more.

"come back to me," you cried, hugging the jellycat penguin named percy you had bought for him— the same one he so gently loved and used every night. the habit to buy him more and more stayed with you, but that one was his favorite. and over the course of the months, it had been your comfort for when you wanted to hug him, but oh! you couldn't.

"just... please, come back to me, perce, i don't want to do this without you."

the endless nights of sleep turned into nights of overthinking. maybe if i held him tighter, maybe if i kissed him more, maybe if i told him i loved him—

maybe percy would still be here.

you buried yourself deeper and deeper in that pit of hell.

it was another shitty day of crying, missing, and cursing in the jackson house from your part when the phone rang. paul and sally had left you in the apartment to study. the house was silent but your head was full, of pain, of hope, of aching.

"i'm going!" like the person calling would even hear, you pulled yourself from percy's bed, dragging the blue bunny stuffy you had named mar for the last 18th with you, groaning at the sun hitting your eyes after an ocean flowed from your eyes.

"hi?"

silence.

"anyone there? is this just some stupid prank?"

it wasn't. percy was on the other line doing his best to not pass out. gods, he had missed you so much...

"i'm going to hang up if you don't talk soon—"

"hi, baby... i miss you."

[frannyzooey]

On the Green: 4

Ezra x f!reader

Rating: age gap, mature-ish, bordering on explicit?

A/N: thank you thank you thank you to @imaswellkid for reassuring me that I actually understand this man in some capacity and for giving me praise when I needed it the most. ily. ❤ thank you also to @the-scandalorian who had the patience to decipher my half-asleep ramblings and assure me that I was on the right path. ily. ❤ and thank you to YOU, reader, for sticking with me during my unintentional months long hiatus of this story - I hope you enjoy!

Series Masterlist

--

The back of your suit disappears in the lush greenery as he follows you through the forest. You guide him deeper and deeper, the light reflecting off your helmet flickering between the leaves. Moss gives way to thick, creeping vines, and then the earth opens up into a deep, gaping pit. 

You stand at the edge, and his glove reaches through the air to pull you away from danger but before he can grasp your suit – you jump. 

You’re at the bottom of the pit together, your profile alight as he watches you dig. His eyes slip over the flutter of your lashes, the tip of your nose, your plush lips. You turn and say something to him, and he smiles. Opening his mouth to reply, he tries to take a breath in, but the air is…thinner. Like his suit has a leak. 

He checks his filter and when he looks up, you’re gone, the connection hose between your suits cut. 

You’re running again, and he’s chasing you. 

Ezra. 

It’s your voice, but it doesn’t sound the same as it does from within his helmet. It sounds like you’re outside of him and inside of him all at once, whispering his name. He loses sight of you, and panic blooms in his chest. His lungs constrict with every gasp for air, his body breaking out in a sweat underneath his suit and then several things happen all at once:

He’s in the pod with you beneath him, your body arching underneath his. 

A moan breaks free of your throat; a masked person hiding in the bushes before they disappear. 

A scream – he can’t decide if it’s a cry of ecstasy or of pain – and he’s pushing forward between your spread thighs. 

Ezra. 

He reaches for your face, your lips parting to allow for his thumb to press inside. 

He does; another masked person peering in through the pod window. 

Ezra, you moan. 

You suck hard on his thumb, a deep groan reverberating from his throat as his hips rock forward and — 

He jerks awake. 

With his heart pounding and his cock hard, you perch at the edge of his cot, your delicate face etched with worry. 

“Ezra. Ezra, hey.” 

Your hand presses down on his chest, and he covers it with his own for a moment as the surroundings of the pod become clearer, sharper. Your face comes into focus, a luminous, soft thing in the hazy dark and for a split second, he feels an overwhelming draw towards you. As if he should sit up and meet your mouth with his. 

His cock throbs, and he flinches. Shit. 

“Hey,” he breathes, taking his hand off yours. He sits up, trying to disguise the aching heft of his cock under his thermals. They leave nothing to the imagination – he knows, since he’s seen you in yours. 

“You okay?” you ask. “Another nightmare?”

He’s used to them after being in this line of work for as long as he’s been in it, but he’s not used to someone else seeing them. He feels slightly sheepish, but can’t decide if it’s because he feels vulnerable or guilty, like you know what he was dreaming about. 

“Seems so,” he replies, the corner of his mouth lifting ruefully. “Sorry to have woken you, Birdie.”

You shrug. “Wanna talk about it?”

He pauses. “Not particularly, no.”

He’s grateful for the way you immediately drop it. 

Weeks on the Green have left you with a certain sort of familiarity with each other, one that’s grown and flourished in the way only sharing a very small space allows. You know about his nightmares, and he knows things about you as well. 

He knows you prefer to start your day in silence: a hot beverage, your headphones, your journal. You look even younger then, swaddled in your blanket by the window, your face still puffy with sleep. 

You like it neat, a good balance to his own disarray. 

You’re a good cook, which has saved him from a diet that used to consist purely of Bits Bars. 

You’re methodical and measured, which, paired with his own impulsive ways, makes for a good partnership. 

However, he’s been careful beyond that. 

Whatever role you assumed during life with your father is not one he intends to make you relive. You’ve taken every single thing he’s thrown at you in stride, but to make up for it, he’s tried to balance the scales by teaching you anything he can. He hasn’t allowed you to assume the role of caretaker. You’re equals, or, if anything, he’s over corrected in some sort of fucked up recompense for everything you went through before this. Just like he promised, he’s protected you. 

And he’s needed to – with word getting out about your ship, he’s had to take care of two more people in the last month alone. He taught you how to shoot after you asked him to, and he was grateful for it later on when the second one almost got the better of him. It was a close call, and he hated you being in it. 

Hated the man more though, which he satisfied with a shot between his eyes. 

He blamed the pull towards you after that on the adrenaline, but he wasn’t being honest with himself. It began long before that. The lessons themselves had been tests of his self-control: your smaller back tucked against his chest, your eagerness and willingness to learn, the way you preened under his praise. 

He fucked his fist in the shower that night and blamed it on so many things: the needed release of stress, the forced proximity, how long it’s been since he was able to sink into a willing partner. His loneliness crept into the dark room while you slept that night and he thought about how, until now, it had been satisfied with your close companionship. 

That night, he’d laid awake and wondered how eager you’d be underneath his hands. 

Would you beg him to teach you what he likes? Would you ask for more the way you do now that he’s encouraged it?

Then the dreams started, and it got worse. Your face, so close to his each time you woke him. The warmth of your body next to his cot. They only made the urge to protect you fiercer, both from himself and the scavengers, and that didn’t even take into account the real threat. The one he’s waited for to show up since he found you. The one who he promised –

They appear in his dreams, alongside you. Hiding in the bushes, peering in the windows. But they aren’t ones who come looking. They wait for you to come to them, and so far, he’s avoided it at all costs. He made that deal when he was desperate for a ship, but now he’s more desperate to keep you safe.

You both need to get off this fucking planet. 

He shakes the thought of the others free as you crawl back to your own cot. Your headphones discarded on the floor next to your face down journal and your rumpled socks, you tug the blanket up around your shoulders, rolling over to go back to sleep. 

Too unsettled to follow you, he stays awake. 

–

He watches you frown in concentration, focusing on the tiny piece of metal in your hand. 

Your fingers are so much more nimble than his, but even you’re having a hard time finding purchase. It slips within your grip the longer you hold it, and not for the first time, he marvels at something seemingly so insignificant in size, yet so crucial to your plan. The converter in your palm is what sparks the engines to life – just a tiny scrap of intricate wiring, one of many that clips into a board that then fits neatly beneath a panel on the floor. 

And unfortunately, the thing that took the hardest brunt of impact upon your rough landing. 

There are forty in total needed and you have twelve that function. Thirteen, he counts, if you’re successful with this one. 

Satisfied with your work, you blow gently on the piece. His eyes drop to your mouth when you purse your lips, and it stays on your profile until you break his reverie, handing the converter to him. 

He blows out a breath, prepping the voltage pen. 

“Here goes nothing, little bird.”

He attaches the pen to the converter, and the pod is silent for a fraction of a second. 

His thumb presses forward and – red. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, letting out a heavy sigh. 

“I don’t understand what the issue is.” The statement is laced with frustration, and he runs a broad hand down his face before dropping it onto his lap. “Do you have any idea?”

You shake your head, defeat etched into your features. “I wish. I’ve rewired it a couple of times. I’m scared if I keep messing with it, it’ll strip what there is to work with.”

Leaning back on your hands, you arch your back to stretch the muscles and the action draws his gaze downwards, focusing on the way he can see your chest through your tight thermals. 

“I feel like we should call it,” you suggest. “We’ve been at it for ages, and I’m starving.”

You crawl over to the cupboard next to your bed, your pert little ass in the air as you rifle through the contents and he thinks about how he’s starving too. His mouth waters, and his tongue drags slowly across his bottom lip. 

“I can read through the manual again,” you start to say, the rest of your words fading into the background as he continues to stare. Your thighs, the flare of your hips, the peek he has of your cunt. He can see the shape of it through your leggings, a tiny hot little space that he imagines the heat of. He longs to touch it. It calls for his fingers, or his tongue and he imagines the taste of it through the thin material. 

What would you sound like if he put his mouth on you that way? Would you let him?

“Maybe I missed something.” You straighten, sitting on your knees to thumb through the pages of the ship’s manual and the youthful way you bite your lip as you study it stirs shame in his gut. It’s a sensation he’s not used to, and though it would normally be easy to ignore, he can’t. Not when it comes to you. 

You are so fucking young, and he needs to get out of here. 

Still, he wonders if you feel it like he does. The tension that fills the space sometimes, the magnet that pulls the two of you together. He might be inclined to say you don’t feel it…but he also knows people. He’s seen a flicker of interest on your face, he’s seen your pretty eyes hooded with what he’s sure was lust. With anyone else, he’d have already broached the subject of a…mutual arrangement, but with you, guilt stops him every time. He’s not used to the feeling stopping him from doing anything, but the imbalance of the situation is too much for even him to think about taking advantage of.

Though if you were to ask him, he wouldn’t say no. 

You continue to flip through the manual, and he imagines you making the first move. Asking him to help with an ache you have, telling him only his fingers could soothe it. You, hovering at the side of his cot, whispering please. It’s perverse, the dynamic that makes him throb. You, helpless and begging for relief, and him, competent and so very willing. 

Your youth plays into it, he’s sure. Your eagerness does too. You’re so sweet, and it’s been so long – which is exactly why he shouldn’t even think about sullying you with his dirty hands. 

You want it though, he can tell. Maybe not everything he wants, but you do want. You’ve dirtied your hands and liked it, reveled in the things he’s been able to teach you: how to defend yourself, how to shoot, how to dig and plot and survive. 

You’re a fighter, and he loves it. 

He feels your eyes on him. 

What would you do if he stood up and took what he wanted?

“Ezra?”

He blinks at the sound of your voice bringing him back to the present. 

“Want some dinner?”

“Sure.” . 

Watching you cook, he’s momentarily transported outside this pod, off this planet and into wherever you lived before this. Every action is a practiced, deft one. You work in silence, as if you’re used to it. A solitary creature, much like himself. Not by choice though – also much like himself. He’d almost think you prefer to be alone, but the way you’ve leaned into his companionship tells him differently. 

Feeling the guilt press against his ribcage again when he hungrily takes in the nape of your neck, he tamps it down. Helping you instead of fantasizing about you is the least he can fucking do. 

He comes to stand next to you, and you look up at him, confused. 

“Want some help?”

You smile, and he mirrors it, taking the meal packet from your hands. Dehydrated rations vacuum sealed in tiny pouches, he pours the contents of two into the pan on the stove, adding water. He stirs for a moment, watching a porridge of sorts form. Chicken, he thinks, from the color of it. 

“I can’t say this looks entirely appetizing.”

“Feel free to feast on your Bits bars,” you toss back, and the edge of his mouth lifts. 

“Now now, I didn’t say I wasn’t going to eat it.”

You set the bowls out, and he pours the contents of the pan into them, dividing the portions up. Your cots parallel to each other’s, he sits across from you, each of you cradling a bowl in your hands. 

Rain hits the roof harder, making the small space intimate. 

“What are we going to do if we can’t fix it?” 

Your question gives him pause, but it’s your face that affects him more. So open, so trusting. Looking to him for guidance and reassurance, and an image of you flat on your back on your cot with the same face flashes through his mind. He clears his throat.

“Somethin’ I’ve been trying to avoid,” he replies. “Though it seems that I can no longer.”

You wait, and he meets your eyes directly. 

“We’re going to have to scavenge some parts,” he says. You chew thoughtfully for a moment, and he keeps his eyes on your own, studying your expression. He lifts his eyebrow in question. “You ready to be my right hand man?”

“...I think so,” you reply hesitantly. “I mean, I’ve got the hang of the thrower.”

“That you do,” he agrees, taking a bite of his dinner. 

You picked it up much faster than he thought, but it shouldn’t have surprised him the way it did. You were a determined, fierce creature – one who was capable of so much more than you thought you were, and one who reveled in it every time he encouraged you to learn something new. Sometimes, when he thought about the man he never knew, he felt frustration flare bright. He wasted you. You could have been so much more, and not just a harvester partner either. 

You could still be so much more, he reasons – and not for the first time, he wonders what will become of you once you go home. He’ll be sad to miss it. 

“Do you think I can do it?”

He lets the question sit for a moment. Can you? Yes. Should you? That’s a question he can’t answer. You shouldn’t even be here in the first place. But you are here, and so you have to do what you have to do. 

He leans forward, as if to let you in on a secret. 

“I think you can do anything, little bird.”

You smile, and he returns it – but only for a moment, before his expression sobers. 

“We need a few things, and I don’t think we can get them all from the same ship. That means we’ll have to throw ourselves in the face of confrontation more than a few times. You understand?”

You nod. “What do you need me to do?”

The question is asked without hesitation, and he fights the urge to tell you to forget he ever said anything. That he’ll find another way to get the two of you out of here without putting you in direct danger. His mind races for an alternative…but there isn’t one. He knows what this place demands of people. There isn’t any hiding from it; it’s better you understand the risk and prepare for it. 

“I’ll be the muscle, you the mechanic. I’ll need your nimble fingers to harvest those converters. I know where we can find some, but it might take us a couple cycles to get them all.”

“Where?”

“The other prospectors that are here. They have ships – between those and some wreckage sites I’ve come across, I’m hopeful we can gather enough for what we need. I’m not sure if they’ll be functioning or not, but it’s worth a try.”

You nod in agreement, and he scrapes the rest of his bowl clean. Spooning it into his mouth, he catches the way your eyes linger on the action and he knows he shouldn’t, but he can’t help himself. You make it too easy with your expressive face, and feeling guilty only goes so far against his impulses. 

Keeping his eyes on you, he sticks the spoon back in his mouth with relish, sucking it clean.

“Tastes sweeter than I thought it would,” he hums.  

You swallow hard, staring at his throat. He feels the thrill of victory, but only for a split second though, until the tension between your bodies immediately fills the small space. Your eyes hood, and his own calculating gaze narrows. He drags his tongue across his bottom lip, taking note of the way you watch it. 

Will you ask him now?

Taking a deep breath, you stand instead and reach for his bowl. 

He hands it to you, keeping his eyes on your ass while you walk away. 

—

It started with the lessons. 

Actually, it began in flickers before that: glimpses of his profile, the feeling of his arm across your chest when he stopped you from tripping over a vine, the sound of his steady breathing in the night. The lessons had only amplified it, dragging the fleeting sparks of attraction to the surface, letting them catch fire under the intensity of his presence. 

You asked him to teach you how to shoot and the whole while, you felt it dripping down your spine to pool between your thighs. Two suits between you, and every word he uttered through the comm link left you feeling stripped bare.

“Easy does it,” he murmured. The speaker in your helmet added husk to his voice, and that only made it worse. 

“Grip it harder,” he said, pressing his hand around yours, and your knees almost buckled. 

He must have felt the tension, because he brought it up afterwards. Not directly, but that was never his way. He danced around it, until he pounced. 

“Small space. Before. How did you…seek relief?” He lifted his eyebrows meaningfully. 

It was a bold question, but then again – everything he’s done told you he’s a bold man. 

“I don’t –” you shied away from the question, looking away. "Let's not talk about it.”

“So you didn’t.”

“I didn’t say that, I said I didn’t want to talk about it.”

“So you did?” His eyebrows raised. 

No, you didn’t, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing that. 

“Why are you so worried about it?” you asked instead, and he lifted his hands in surrender. 

“Not worried, little bird. Just curious.”

He was always curious - and that was the issue. It wasn’t true attraction he felt, but rather misplaced attraction on your part. When you thought about it for too long, you felt foolish and immature. It wasn’t him, it was the situation. He was too attentive for his own good, too charming. He thought of you as someone who was dependent on him, not someone to be attracted to. Besides, how could it be him? Not only someone with ages more experience than you, but also someone so…rough? A murderer?

A murderer that’s done so only for you, a small voice whispered inside your head.

Logic told you that you were too young, too inexperienced for a man like that. But it didn’t stop your treacherous mind from rebelling. 

You did seek relief that night, hours after he teased you about it. The second he went to shower, you laid down on your cot and spread your thighs and let the fire you felt earlier consume you. You recalled his words, his touch, the solid breadth of his body behind yours. It didn’t take long with how worked up you were, but afterwards, you felt overwhelming shame. You scolded yourself, telling yourself never again. It was a violation of his fucking privacy for fucks sake, a violation of his boundaries that you did it while he was stuck inside the same small container with you. He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would mind, but still, the guilt consumed you for days, so bad that you couldn’t even meet Ezra’s eyes for fear that he would know. 

You felt like your fingertips were branded red, your come a permanent stain on the skin. 

Days later, you did it again. 

You couldn’t help yourself. It seemed like everything he did was unintentionally filthy. The phrases he said, the little grunts he let out while working, the strain in his voice sometimes through the helmet. Everything sounded like a double entendre to your horny, shameful ears and that said nothing for the way he looked at you. 

You never stood a chance against that empty promise to yourself. 

Weeks of living together has taught you that he likes to shower at night before bed, and tonight is no exception. You watch as he gathers his clothes from underneath his cot, his thermals stretching across his broad back. The muscles shift underneath the thin fabric, and you track every movement out of the corner of your eye. 

Pretending to clean the dishes, you’ve been waiting all day for this, and after today especially, it takes everything you have to feign nonchalance. 

That spoon. The way he licked it, the sound he made, the look on his face. The mental image joins others: his hands while he works, the shift of his back muscles underneath his thermals, the heat of his knee knocking into yours when he sits close. Sounds join: his breathing through the commlink, the soft sound in the back of his throat that he makes when he shifts in his sleep. 

Images and sounds cycle rapidly through your head, all joining the swirl of arousal that feels like an empty pit low in your belly and it’s everything you can do to wait until you’re sure he’s showering before you bend over the kitchen counter, thrusting a hand beneath your thermals. 

The second your fingers find slippery wetness, you sigh with relief. It’s a pained sigh though, one of desperation that has you rubbing the pads of your fingers over your clit with a steady, firm press as you bite your lip to quell the telltale sounds of what you’re doing. You hurt with the way you’ve wanted him, made worse by his close proximity. It’s been raining for days and you’ve been stuck inside with him and the sounds he made last night while he was sleeping echo in your mind. You breathe hard, condensation fogging the counter top.  

The sound of water splashing in the background, your imagination supplies the rest:

His tanned skin, flush with heat. His hair, even darker when wet. The line of his throat as he tips his head back, the swirl of hair around his belly button and down, the broadness of his shoulders in that small space. His forearms flexing as he washes himself – an image that automatically turns into his hand braced on the wall of the shower, steam filling the air around him as his other hand pumps frantically between his thighs –

You climb higher and higher, a heady pulse throbbing between your legs, your thighs trembling as you ascend with frantic, little whines between your clenched teeth. 

The phantom weight of his cock in your grip and then the smooth, blunt tip of it sliding across your cheek, between your breasts, your lips stretching around it as your tongue molds to fit the underside.

You don’t have a ton of experience under your belt, but you have enough to know what a cock feels like. His though? Would it be thicker? Bigger? You picture him stripping out of his suit the way he does, his thermal inching up just enough to see the thatch of hair that collects underneath his belly button to lead down beneath his waistband, and you start to come, pressing your face into the crook of your arm to muffle the sound. 

“Hello, sweetheart.”

“Watch my fingers.”

“Easy, easy, Birdie. That’s it.”

“Hold it nice and tight. That’s it.”

Every word he’s spoken to you taken out of context to supply the scene in your head, you bite the fabric of your thermal when you come. You let out a breathless sob, your cunt pulsing as the sparks of your release burst bright between your hips, and your fingers work the last dregs of it out, savoring the intensity of satisfying the ache you’ve felt all day.  

You slump against the counter, your limp hand resting between your thighs and catch your breath. The blood rushing through your ears fades, clarity bringing the sound of silence. 

Silence. 

The shower is off. 

–

He heard it. 

He thought he was hearing things as he dried off; lingering echoes that remained from his release moments ago. It was faint, but when he paused toweling, he heard it. 

A muffled groan, a soft whine and even while still feeling the throbs of the spend he painted the shower wall with, he begins to harden. 

He fucking knew it. He clasps himself in hand, giving his cock a firm squeeze, and listens. 

There is silence on the other side of the door, and he wonders where you are in the pod right now. Where did you end up when you took your relief? He pictures it, and the flare of lust that instantly clouds his vision almost has him opening the door without getting dressed. He’ll come and find you, push you down onto your cot, rip the clothes off that have been giving him everything and nothing all at once these weeks and finally consume you, like you’ve consumed him. 

He dresses quickly, pulling his thermals over still damp skin. Opening the shower compartment, he finds you at the sink, scrubbing your hands. 

In the kitchen? You didn’t even lay down on your cot? Your need must have been too urgent, and he grins at the idea. Will you let him fuck you there?

He feigns ignorance, coming to lean casually against the counter. Leaning in close, he wears a mask of politeness. “Thanks for cleaning up.”

“No problem,” you reply, not meeting his eyes. 

In any other situation, he’d revel in the game of cat and mouse. He’d plot out ways to get you to break or bend to his will, letting you dangle on the edge until you were begging him for relief. But now…he pauses.

“You okay, Birdie?”

“Yea.” Your expression is one of fake brightness, your eyes giving it away. “Just…thinking about tomorrow.”

It’s clear that’s not the whole truth. He knows what he heard and from the rapid beat of your pulse under your delicate skin tells him that you’re obviously hiding something, but the mention of tomorrow is like being doused with cold water. 

Tomorrow, when he brings you out into the Green, putting you in the path of danger that you never asked to be in. You never asked for any of this, and he feels sickened at the previous idea of pushing you down on your cot to take what you’re “offering”. He should be focusing on preparing you for the danger that’s out there. He knows better than this, and for the first time in a long time, he feels chastened. 

“You’ve got this,” he reassures you, and though he can feel the slight hitch in your breathing when his hand rests on your shoulder, he ignores it. “We’ve got this. As your partner, I swear on my life I won’t let anything happen. Understand?”

He feels you lean slightly into his touch, and suppresses the urge to pull you close. It’s been a long time since he’s comforted anyone, and he’s surprised the impulse comes back so quickly. 

You look up at him, and the impulse grows with how vulnerable you look. So open, so trusting – yet resolute in your faith in him. 

You nod. “We’ve got this.”

[heavyhitterheaux]

U-Turn

Gif by @harlowgifs 💕

Synopsis: It's been six months since Scalvo broke up with you, and you’re doing your best to function without him. But when your safety is compromised, he is forced to step back into your life, and hopefully, this time, it will be for good

Pairing: ex-boyfriend!Scalvo x ex-girlfriend!reader

Read Part 1 first

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

It was close to four in the morning and you hadn't been to sleep yet. The thoughts in your mind were racing a mile and minute and it didn't seem as if they were stopping any time soon. You scrolled through the gallery on your phone that contained pictures of you and Scalvo. You knew at this point that you should have deleted them, but you just couldn't bring yourself to do it.

You fucking missed him.

It had been a few months since he had broken up with you and you were still obviously hurting. You tried to call him the next day after you confronted him about what he had done all to find out that the number wasn't in service anymore. You found yourself not going into the bakery anymore, but just casually visiting different shops along the same street hoping to catch a glimpse of him, but it was as if he had disappeared off the face of the earth. Besides, it was clear that Mr. Besegai wasn't a fan of you.

The crying didn't occur as much anymore and you found yourself trying to do anything that could serve as a distraction from the reality of it all. But the bottom line was that you missed him and wanted him back despite what he may have done.

This was supposed to be your week of vacation from your job, but all you had been doing was laying in bed most of the time. 

After everything went down and you had found out about what Scalvo and Cobby did, you weren't sure how to feel. Yes, you were upset at him obviously. But, you could understand why he did it. You weren't making excuses for him in any way, shape, or form but you couldn't imagine a life without your parents.

Your father had the safe replaced and moved it to a safer location, a bank in the middle of the city. Scalvo must have said something to Cobby because a few days after you confronted him, the bracelet mysteriously ended up back at your parents house with your mother finding it in the mailbox. Your father had never said this outloud, but deep down you had a feeling that he knew it was Scalvo. But because he wanted to spare your feelings, he probably didn't want to say anything to you about it. He knew that you had taken the break up hard and still was.

Not wanting to lay there any longer, you decided to get up and get ready to go to the gym in the hopes that it wouldn't be as crowded. After you had washed your face and brushed your teeth, you went into your closet to find a sports bra and a pair of workout shorts to match. You decided on a coral pink matching set from fabletics before you grabbed your black hoodie and slipped on your shoes.

As you made your way downstairs to the parking garage with your phone, car keys, and air pods, you felt uneasy. You couldn't exactly pinpoint why you felt that way, but you turned around to see that there was no one behind you so you shrugged it off.

Unlocking your car, you went to grab the driver's door handle when someone had come up behind you and put a hand over your mouth. Your first reaction was to begin screaming, but that instantly came to a stop when you heard a voice. 

“Shh! Don't scream. I'm not going to hurt you.” You turned around to come face to face with Cobby and you instantly rolled your eyes.

“What could you possibly want?” You asked him as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“Okay, I deserve that. I get it. But sorry about that entire thing with your dad. Scalvo was like you're never going to forgive him, but I was like "but at least you didn't kill her dad so that has to count for something, right? I think I took your break up the hardest out of anyone.”

“Cobby, you talk way too much because you should have gotten to the point already. Why are you here?” You asked him as you slipped your air pod case in your front pocket.

“Oh, right! Totally forgot. You know Scalvo tells me the same thing that I talk too much, but…”

“COBBY!”

“Sorry. Scalvo sent me.”

“Why? We aren't together anymore and we haven't talked in literal months.”

“I know and I feel terrible about that. He was actually nicer when he was dating you believe it or not. He only threatened to shoot me a few times and it would usually be a lot more.”

“Cobby, PLEASE GET TO THE POINT.” You tried not to yell at him, but it came out anyway.

“Hey, no yelling. I'm sensitive. Oh, I remember now. Someone is after you so Scalvo sent me to come and get you.”

“After me for what? And why should I believe you?” You questioned him, because at this point you didn't know what to believe.

“Scalvo has pissed a lot of people off lately and they know about you. They wouldn't hesitate to hurt you in order to get to him. And why should you believe me? You are the only person in this universe that Scalvo actually gives a damn about. So if you’ll just come with me, we'll be on our way.” He told you as he was trying to lead you to his motorcycle.

“I am not getting on that death trap and why didn't he come and get me himself if he cares about me so much?”

“Too dangerous.”

“The motorcycle or him coming to get me? And is that a breathalyzer!?”

“Oh yeah to all of that but um, do you mind blowing in it so we can leave?”

“COBBY! ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

“What!? We won't be able to move!”

“How did you even get here in the first place!?”

“I woke up my kid and made him do it.”

“I need to go back to my apartment for a minute.”

“No the fuck you don't. Excuse my French, but they have been watching you for weeks. Blow into this so we can leave.”

“If you're drunk, you are not driving me anywhere.”

“Y/N! Now is not the time! I have to get you to a safe place! Do you want to argue with me or get kidnapped? I see why you two were together, it's like I'm arguing with Scalvo junior.”

“You need to wipe that thing off before I put it anywhere near my mouth.”

“Ha! That's what she said.”

All you did was look at him and roll your eyes before you walked back to your car in order to get some disinfectant wipes to clean it off. Once you did and blew into it, his motorcycle unlocked.

“Perfect! Here, hop on and put this on.” He told you as he handed you his helmet.

“Do you honestly think my hair will fit in here?” You asked and he just stared at you.

“Look, if I bring you to Scalvo with even a SCRATCH on you, he will have my fucking ass. Just put it on.”

“Fine.” You muttered as you slipped it on over your thick and fluffy curly hair.

The two of you set off into the streets of Boston in the early hours as the world around you was still sleeping.

You didn't know how to feel about seeing Scalvo again. Obviously you missed him, but did he miss you? Well, the answer had to be yes seeing that he felt as if your life was in danger and he was going to do anything in his power to protect you. That's how he was when the two of you were together so you figured that nothing had changed. 

Out of nowhere, Cobby had slowed down and pulled into a Dunkin Donuts parking lot and you looked at him confused once he got off the bike.

“Uh? Is the secret hideout a Dunkin Donuts? Why are we here?”

“We're here because I'm hungry. You want anything?

“No. Should we really be making stops? This seems a little too out in the open.”

“It's fine. I'll be two minutes.”

You nodded your head to Cobby as he disappeared inside of the store. In that time, you had taken off the helmet and it was resting in front of you as you played on your phone to keep yourself occupied while waiting for him.

Suddenly you felt the barrel of the gun at the back of your head and knew that whoever was after you to begin with had found you.

“If you scream, I will blow your fucking brains out across this entire parking lot. Get off the motorcycle and follow me. If you try to run, I'll shoot.” 

You didn't recognize the voice, but you did as you were told as you held your hands up. Your air pods were still in your pocket as you left your phone on the seat of the motorcycle hoping that Cobby would know that he could track you. If not, Scalvo would know to pick up on it. Now would be the perfect time for Cobby to make an appearance, but he wasn't even looking in your direction.

Fuck.

Once you came face to face with the man, you knew you had seen him before but wasn't quite sure where. He led you to his car and as he was putting you in the back of it, Cobby was leaving the store and immediately ran to the car hoping to get to you in time.

“Fuck! Y/N!”

But it was too late as the car then took off. Cobby memorized the license plate number in the hopes that it would help him to track you down. 

But first things first.

He had to tell Scalvo that they had you.

And knew that he wasn't about to hear the end of it.

As Cobby let himself into the warehouse where he and Scalvo were hiding out, he climbed the steps to see Scalvo playing some video game. He heard him approaching and quickly pressed pause, but he already knew that something was wrong because he only heard one set of footsteps. He turned around to see Cobby alone which left him genuinely confused.

Even though you hadn’t seen Scalvo in these six months that had passed, he had seen you. He always made sure to check on you from a distance to make sure that you were okay and that no harm would come to you. He knew that because of what he did to Don, that more than likely it would put you in danger after he had seen him outside of your job. Scalvo made sure that he didn’t notice him, but his eyes never left sight of you. That was when Scalvo knew that you had become a target and was going to make sure that nothing happened to you because of the decisions that he decided to make. 

“Sooo…..”

“Where's Y/N? You told me that you had her.” He asked as he looked behind Cobby to see that no one had followed in behind him.

“Um yeah, so about that….” Cobby started to say while scratching the back of his neck.

All Scalvo did was take a deep breath before saying anything.

“Cobby, you have three fucking seconds. Where is my girl?” 

“Okay, I picked her up, scared the shit out of her by the way, went to Dunkin Donuts because I was hungry and I left her outside while I ran in and…”

Cobby didn't even get to finish his sentence before Scalvo’s hand was around his neck and had him pinned against the wall. His head hitting it with a thud.

“You fucking left her by herself when I told you to come straight back here?”

“Are you still in therapy? Because this right here doesn't really give me therapy vibes.”

“FUCK! COBBY I GAVE YOU ONE FUCKING JOB! I KNEW I SHOULD HAVE DID IT MYSELF!”

“We can fix this! I have the license plate number and her phone. She had her air pods too and I’m guessing that she still does.”

“Just give it here so I can see if I can track her. You better pray that she's alive when we find her. Otherwise, I will literally shoot you.”

“I had a feeling that you were going to say that.”

“I just want for her to be okay, she needs to be okay. I can’t have her getting hurt because of me and what my job is.”

“Oh, the feelings are coming out again. Hey, you never answered my question, are you still in therapy or not? That has to be one of the best things to happen since you were in a relationship with Y/N. She looks great by the way, dyed her hair again to fire engine red.”

“I know because I saw it last week, but Cobby, please not now. It is taking everything in me not to throw you out of the window and yes, I’m still in therapy because I have to deal with your stupid ass.”

“I knew you had to be! Otherwise, I knew I probably would have been kissing concrete right now. Hey, I got an extra donut for you along with a breakfast sandwich. I was going to get you coffee until I realized that my motorcycle doesn't have a cup holder.” 

Scalvo glanced at him as he set everything in front of him as he had his laptop open and was trying to track where you might be. He also unlocked your iphone since he knew the passcode had been his birthday. Thank goodness you hadn’t changed it and seeing that it was still the same also tugged on his heartstrings.

He was making a promise to himself at this very moment.

When he got you back, because it wasn’t a matter of how, but since he knew that it was going to happen, if you were to give him another chance at being in a relationship with you, he didn’t plan on wasting it.

But then again, you really probably wouldn’t want to have anything to do with him at this point because of the situation that you were in.

Only thing he could think about is if you were hurt. If he found out that you were, he wouldn’t hesitate killing the person or people who had brought you harm. 

“Not hungry. Only thing I’m focused on is getting my girl back.”

“I love this for you, should we consider this your redemption arc in a way as it relates to her? I see the two of you getting back together, you need her in the worst way. Maybe you wouldn’t be so mad all the time if you got some pussy once in a while.”

“Cobby….”

“Shutting up now, I’ll be over here. Let me know when you find something. But she misses you and misses you bad. You should have seen her face when I told her that you had sent me to get her. So, that could be more motivation for you to find her.”

–

When you had gotten placed in the back of the car by a man you learned whose name was Rob, you were quickly blindfolded so there was no way that you would be able to tell where you were going and was praying that Scalvo came to save you.

All you did was focus on your breathing and trying to stay calm.

Once you felt the car come to a complete stop, the backseat door opened and you were roughly grabbed from the car and began walking inside of what you obviously knew to be a building.

Were you even still in Boston anymore?

The car had been driving for a long time, maybe an hour or two so at this point the answer was probably no.

Once you were placed in a chair and a rope was tied around your waist as well as your wrist and ankles, the blindfold finally came off.

At this point, you knew that screaming probably wouldn’t do you any good in this situation and the best thing for you to do was to remain calm and answer their questions as you saw fit. But that would be easy since you knew absolutely nothing. You hadn’t seen him or had contact with him in over six months and it felt that he honestly disappeared from your life and never existed to begin with. 

There were three different men standing in front of you as your eyes had adjusted to the light and the short fat man in the center was the first to speak.

“Hmm, Scalvo sure did get him a pretty one.” He told you as his hand lightly grazed your cheek making you flinch away from him.

Only Scalvo was allowed to do that.

When he didn’t receive an answer from you, he spoke up again.

“Cat got your tongue, or is it too early in the morning?” He asked you as all you did was stare straight ahead at him.

You were scared shitless, but you were for damn sure not about to let them see it. The moment that you did, you knew that they would be able to use it to their advantage.

“I see you don’t want to talk, but maybe if we introduce ourselves and get to know one another a little better it might make you more comfortable? I’m Don, that’s Rob over there who picked you up and brought you to me, and over there is Booch. And there’s no reason for you to tell us your name since we already know who you are, Y/N Lawson. Daughter of James and Scarlet Lawson. Only child. Graduate of University of Maryland College Park with a degree in forensics specializing in forensic nursing from a previous degree that you had gotten at Morgan State University’s nursing program. Who lives in an luxury apartment off of 33rd street with her cat named Mojito, goes to the gym at least five days a week, works at the hospital near the baseball stadium, drives a BMW that was a gift from her parents upon graduation and last but certainly not least, the girlfriend of our beloved Scalvo. The little fucker that had been a constant thorn in my side and my reason for these constant headaches as he and his friends stole my fucking money and also killed one of my guys who works for me. Now, we can do this the easy way, because I’m all about getting and having options or the hard way, the choice is up to you, sweetheart. Now I’ll let you go free and we can pretend like this never happened, as soon as you tell me where your boyfriend is and his dumbass sidekick Cobby. I’m surprised that fucker is still alive. Now be a good girl and tell us where he is.” Don told you as he got into your face, but all you continued to do was stare at him. 

No one called you good girl except Scalvo.

“Y/N, I’m being nice right now and it would be best if you would cooperate with me. I gave you options and I’m being patient. However, you must understand that my patience is thin, especially when it comes to things like this.”

All you did once again was stare at him and he nodded silently to himself before you felt his hand give you a hard slap to your face making your head turn abruptly in the other direction. You had the sudden urge to spit and when you did, you saw blood. 

It was now stinging and tears pricked your eyes, but you made sure to not let them fall. There was no way in hell that you would ever tell them where Scalvo was and besides you didn’t even know. At this point, kidnapping you was absolutely pointless. 

However, you did know that all three of them were in for a rude awakening once Scalvo had found out what they had done and especially Don that had put his hands on you. You delighted in the fact that it was only a matter of time that Scalvo would blow his brains out for messing with his girl. 

“Y/N, I tried to be nice and ask you before I had to do that, so I’m going to ask you one more time. Where’s Scalvo?”

“We’ve been broken up for six months and I haven’t talked to him since. I don’t know where he is, but I can assure you once he does find me and finds out that you put your hands on me, you will definitely be burning in hell.” You whispered to him as he was eye level with you before promptly spitting in his face.

“Fucking bitch.” He immediately said as he pulled back wiping at his face where your bloody spit had landed and Rob and Booch looked to Don to ask permission of what to do next.

“Waterboard her. I don’t believe her for a second. She’s obviously protecting him.”

You sighed to yourself as you remembered when you had first met Scalvo when his hair was damp and it almost looked as if he had taken a shower when he came from the storage room in Mr. Besegai’s bakery.

That’s what Richie and Mr. Besegai were doing to him.

Waterboarding.

When all this was said and done, you planned on having a serious talk with Scalvo about all of this and how much he lied to you. However, he was doing his best to shield you from this life so you couldn’t totally blame him for it.

You just prayed that he was able to find you in time.

Now was not the time for you to die.

You didn’t want to die. 

Who knew that meeting that cute boy in the bakery would lead to all of this?

By this time, Scalvo had quickly grown frustrated with the fact that tracking the license plate went absolutely nowhere. They were able to trace it back to being a rental and not having a true owner. The other part that frustrated him was that your air pods must have been dead or broken because he wasn't able to trace them either. 

Cobby had called Rory who had worked on a few jobs with them to offer some type of help, but Scalvo was simply annoyed by the two old guys who couldn't seem to follow directions. Every time those three went out to do a job, some wild ass shit would happen and Scalvo was surprised that they all were alive when all was said and done.

“What if we ask Mr. Besegai for help?” Rory asked and Scalvo turned and stared at him in disbelief.

“For what? This doesn't make him any money so he definitely doesn't care. Besides, he was the one who had me rob my girlfriend's parents. Don't we remember when all that happened? He threatened to fucking kill her if I didn't do it.”

“Oh, right Cobby told me about that.” He said as he suddenly remembered.

“I'm out of fucking ideas.” Scalvo whispered to himself before his phone rang from an unknown number. He stared at it for a second and then quickly picked it up and put it on speaker.

“Hello?”

“Scalvo! Surprised I haven't heard from you yet. How's everything going?” Scalvo immediately recognized the voice that belonged to Rob.

“Don't fucking play with me. Where's Y/N?”

“Oh, the pretty little thing we picked up yesterday? She's great. For now.” He told him as he was keeping an eye on you. Your head was slouched down and he was for certain that you were asleep, but you in fact were listening to everything that was happening.

“What did you do to her?!”

“Calm down, pretty boy. She's alive. She actually fell asleep not too long ago after she got tired of us waterboarding her.”

It was at that moment that all Scalvo could see was red.

“If she's alive, put her on the phone.”

“As you wish.”

Rob walked over to you and forcefully grabbed you by a handful of your curly hair in order for you to look up and you instantly let out a scream. Hearing it in real time made Scalvo’s heart drop.

“You have a call sweetheart, it's your beloved boyfriend.”

As you heard these words, you wasted no time in yelling his name.

“Scalvo!”

“I'm coming for you princess. I…”

“Okay, that's enough.” Dob said as he snatched the phone back making you sigh in defeat.

“She's a tough one. But anyway, if you want her back you need to rightfully give me back what's mine.” 

“I'm not giving you a got damn thing.”

“Hmm, so if I were to put a bullet in her head right now, you wouldn't care? Is that what you’re telling me?” He asked as he cocked his gun next to the phone so that he would be able to hear it.

“If you cause her any more harm, me and you are going to have a conversation and it will include me blowing your brains out. Where the fuck is she?”

“Scalvo, let's be real. I’m not telling you anything. Give me what I want and you can get your girlfriend back. When you're ready to take me up on my offer, you let me know. But you don't have a lot of time. I am giving you forty-eight hours to give me back my money otherwise your girlfriend will get delivered to you in pieces. Have a good day.”

After Rob had hung up the phone, it was silent as Rory and Cobby were looking at one another before they both looked over at Scalvo.

“Okay, what now?” Cobby quietly asked and Scalvo quickly got an idea. 

“Cobby, did she have her pink coach wallet with her when you went to get her?”

“Yeah, she was holding it.”

“Shit, why didn't I think of this before?” He said as he quickly typed the password into his phone to unlock it.

“Think of what?” Rory asked and Scalvo quickly shushed him. 

“Before we broke up, I put an air tag in her wallet because that's her favorite one and she always has it. It let me know where she was and if she was okay.”

“Stalker much?” Cobby said as he looked at Scalvo who immediately rolled his eyes.

“That's when Mr. Besegai threatened her and I wasn't taking any chances. It's hidden in a part she doesn't use so there was no way she could have known it was there. I couldn't exactly tell her "oh, by the way babe people are threatening you so I'm just going to put this air tag in your wallet to keep you safe. I don't know why I'm explaining myself to either of you, but yeah.”

“Hmm, good point.”

Sure enough, within a matter of seconds, Scalvo was able to see your location and noticed that you were in Portland, Maine.Their dumbasses must have not had removed your wallet from where they currently were.

“Cobby, put in this address.” He told him, and Cobby quickly started to pull up Google on his phone.

“She's at an old warehouse. If we leave now, we probably won't hit a lot of traffic.” He said out loud which made Scalvo and Rory look at him in disbelief.

“Without a plan?” Rory said and surprisingly, Scalvo quickly agreed with him.

“Exactly. Like come on now. When do we ever just go in blindly?” Scalvo asked him and Cobby quickly turned up his nose.

“Oh, so you don't remember….”

“That was different!”

“Sure, sure. Almost got ourselves killed nonetheless.”

“I just need until tonight to plan all of this out. And we can go and get her when they least expect it.” He told both of them.

“Do you need help planning?” Rory asked and Scalvo rolled his eyes.

“Definitely not from you two. Keep your phones on and I'll call you when everything is a go.”

In the back of his mind, all Scalvo could worry about was getting to you in time and not getting himself killed in the process.

It was now midnight and Scalvo called both Cobby and Rory to meet him so that they could go over the plan so everyone was clear on what they had to do. Scalvo had explained the plan at least three times, with both of them interrupting him multiple times, making this seem like an impossible task.

“Okay, just one more time.” Rory told Scalvo as he threw his head back in disbelief.

“What are you not getting!? And wait a minute, what the fuck are you doing?”

“Taking notes.”

Scalvo immediately scoffed.

“Taking notes? On a kidnapping situation? Really?”

“It helps me stay on task.”

“What are you, four?” He asked him as they were sitting in Scalvo's car a block away from the warehouse.

“There's nothing wrong with being prepared!”

“Both of you get out of my car. NOW.” Scalvo told them as he grabbed his gun out of the glove compartment. Earlier in the day, he had made sure that there were enough bullets in there even though all of them would be going in Don's chest or skull. He wanted to make sure he got the job done and was going to make sure that it was done correctly.

By this time, you had fallen asleep, but was startled when you felt someone come up behind you.

You knew that particular smell of cologne anywhere.

“Shh, princess I'm here. But don't make a sound. We have to be quiet because I need to make sure we get out of here in one piece.” He told you as he leaned down and whispered in your ear.

All you did was nod as you felt him cutting the rope that was around your waist, ankles and wrists. Once they were cut, you immediately massaged your wrists and could see that your skin was red from where the rope had been rubbing against it.

He immediately embraced you and kissed the top of your head and you held onto him for dear life as if he was going to disappear at any moment.

“Go to the left and down the backstairs. Cobby is waiting for you there and his dumbass knows not to leave you this time and keep eyes on you.”

“But…” You started to say and Scalvo immediately cut you off.

“I'll meet you outside. I promise.”

All you did was shake your head at him and tears started forming in your eyes because you were not liking this plan at all. You wouldn't know what to do with yourself if he actually got hurt.

“Y/N, you have to trust me. We don't have any time to waste.”

The main reason why he didn't want you in there was because he definitely did not want you seeing him shoot someone, much less killing them.

Reluctantly, you nodded your head and he watched you as you opened the door and went down the steps before going and searching for Don, Rob, and Booch.

As promised, Cobby was at the bottom of the stairwell and quickly ushered you toward Scalvo’s car that was a block away making sure that no one was following the both of you.

“At this point, I'm 0 for 2 and you have every reason in the world to be pissed at me right now.” Cobby told you and you simply shrugged.

Scalvo was definitely right about one thing.

Cobby never knew what to say out of his mouth. 

Once the two of you reached Scalvo’s car, you slid in the passenger seat and laid your head against the window as Cobby hopped in the driver's seat and drove closer to the warehouse.

The plan was for Scalvo to kill Don along with his minions and set the place on fire. Cobby was going to cut the gas line as soon as Scalvo and Rory walked out of the building.

The two of you sat there on edge waiting for the doors to swing open. Once they finally did, you let out a sigh of relief as Cobby had gotten out of the car and Scalvo quickly taking his place as Rory slipped in the backseat. Cobby came out within a matter of minutes, as the building started to go up in flames.

Once everyone was settled into the car, Scalvo immediately took off and started driving back towards Boston until he suddenly changed his mind. His plan consisted of all of you laying low for a few days before heading back to Boston. 

Just in case. 

The biggest satisfaction that the night had brought for Scalvo was that you were alive and in one piece. The second part was that Don was begging on his knees for his life when he had finally caught up to him. All Scalvo did in return as put a bullet in his head for all the harm he brought to you.

As far as he was concerned, people could mess with him however much they wanted to, but you were off limits. Him doing this hopefully sent a message to everyone else including Mr. Besegai that he was not the one to mess with. He glanced over at you as he merged onto the highway to see that your head was leaning up against the window and that your eyes were closed. He watched as your chest slowly rose and fell indicating that you were asleep. This was something that he knew would change your perspective of things for the rest of your life. 

By the time that all of you had reached the hotel you were mentally and physically exhausted. Not wanting to draw any attention to yourselves, Scalvo drove another hour and a half to put as much distance as he could between all of you and the crime scene. The hotel wasn't super fancy and not anything that you were used to, but you were just excited to be alive. However, it wasn’t on the cheap side either. Only the best for Scalvo’s girl.

Before coming to get you, being the thoughtful person that he was, Scalvo had gone to your apartment and had gotten a few sets of fresh clothes for you knowing that he wasn't letting you out of his sight any time soon.

Once in the hotel room, you took in your surroundings before sitting down in the chair that was near the desk. You had been quiet ever since Scalvo found you and the one thing he wanted to hear was your voice. You sat there as you stared off into space before Scalvo came to kneel down in front of you and gently take your hands in his.

“Princess….” He quietly said and your eyes finally landed on him.

“I have some clothes for you and I want you to get cleaned up and get some sleep. I'll help you.”

When you didn't bother answering him, he tried again.

“Baby, I know that a lot has happened over the past two days, but I need you to do this for me.”

“So, this is why you were always keeping secrets from me? For this exact reason.” You barely said above a whisper and all Scalvo did was nod.

“We can talk about that later, but yes.”

“No.”

“No?”

“We're going to talk about it now. You know how much I love you and how I told you that I was always worried about you because I knew that something was off. At the very least you could have warned me. You know that I would do absolutely anything for you, no questions asked.”

“I know that now and I should have said something to you, but I didn't want to lose you. You have to understand that. You are literally the best thing that has ever happened to me. I tried to shield you from this life by breaking up with you, but I only made it worse.” Scalvo confessed as he moved a curl out of your face that had fallen. Your face was bloodied and bruised and it hurt his heart to see you like that.

“I cried myself to sleep every night for two months after you left me and disappeared without a fucking trace. You don't do that to people you love.” You yelled at him as tears were threatening to fall down your cheeks.

When you first saw him, you let out a sigh of relief. Now you were mad and were letting him have it. 

“Yes you do in order to protect them. I know you're pissed at me and for good reason. But us arguing is not going to get us anywhere. At least not tonight. I want you to sleep.”

“So you can leave when I fall asleep? And disappear again?”

“No. I'm not letting you out of my sight. It's more dangerous for us not to be together than to be in a relationship. But that's obviously only if you want to. I understand if you tell me no.”

All you did was sit there as Scalvo had gone into the bathroom and ran a washcloth under hot water and brought it back to you to start removing the dried blood off your face. At the first touch, you instantly winced from the sting and pulled back away from him.

“That hurts.”

“I know, babe but I have to do this so nothing will get infected.”

Reluctantly you moved back towards him and he continued to dab at your face with you wincing every few minutes. Scalvo was taking in the cuts on your face and how one side was noticeably more swollen than the other. The two of you were silent as he finished cleaning off your face and when he was done, you finally spoke.

“If we're going to do this, you have to promise me something.”

“Anything, baby. Name it.”

“From now on there cannot be any secrets between us. You have to be 100% honest with me about everything. I don't care how small it is. You know how I feel about lying by now.”

Scalvo nodded his head as he leaned down to take off your shoes and socks.

“And one more thing.”

“Yes?”

“Do not ever make me worry like that to the point that I thought you were dead again because I will find you and kill you myself.”

Scalvo let out a laugh before he helped you stand up to get into the shower.

“Yes ma'am.” 

After you had taken a shower, washed your hair, and styled it, Scalvo had actually remembered to grab your bonnet and he quickly slipped it over your hair. Once you were settled in the king sized bed, Scalvo took a shower himself and you dozed off until you felt the bed dip indicating that he had sat down. He sat there for a few minutes and your concern was growing. You gently put a hand on his shoulder and that was when he decided to put it all out in the open how he was feeling.

“You okay?” You quietly asked and he immediately shook his head no.

“Did something else happen that I don't know about?” 

“I literally almost lost you. I almost lost you for good. That was entirely too close. It should have never been that close.”

“But you didn't. You found me and I'm okay.”

“Baby, no you're not. Not a single person that goes through that is okay when it's all said and done. I don't know what I would have done if I didn't get to you in time. All of this happened because of me. You got hurt because of me.”

“Hey, stop. None of that. But you did and I had no doubt that you would.”

“I did. And I thought to myself that my second chance was so close to me that I could reach out and touch it, but it got snatched away from me and I didn't think that this would lead to a happy ending for either of us.” He told you as he turned around to face you.

“But it did. We get a second chance to do it right this time.” You told him as he had laid down next to you and you quickly embraced him as you began to play in his hair. 

“I missed this, I missed us.”

“I missed us too and we're going to be okay.” You told him and he leaned forward to capture you in a kiss.

From the moment his lips touched yours, it honestly felt like a wave of electricity flowing through your body. You quickly kissed him back and attempted to straddle him, but he stopped you.

“Not now. I need you to get proper rest first. But, you can have as many free cuddles as you want.” He told you and you simply laid on top of him.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” You whispered against his chest as he held onto you tightly.

“Hmm, I don't recall, but I'm all ears if you want to tell me again.” He told you before he leaned down to kiss your forehead as he smiled at you.

A few months had passed and things were getting back to being normal, well as normal as they could be considering what had happened. For Scalvo’s comfort and peace of mind, you moved out of your apartment and into another one that was a good distance away from where the first one had been and you quickly asked him to move in with you. You had been without him longer than you had liked, so it was a quick decision that was made on your part. Of course he did so without a second thought.

It was a Saturday morning and Scalvo had plans to meet up with Cobby and Rory on a new job that Mr. Besegai had told them about.  It was around seven in the morning when you felt Scalvo leave kisses on your face and you quickly popped your left eye open to look at him seeing that he was dressed and wearing too many clothes for your liking.

“Aht! Aht! Baby, where could you possibly be going? It is seven in the morning on a Saturday. Get back over here and lay with me.” 

“I got to meet Cobby and Rory. We got another job to do from Mr. Besegai. I have to meet them at the docks. I won’t be long, princess I promise.” He muttered back to you knowing that you didn't approve. You had told him ever since that incident went down a few months ago that you wanted him out of this life. And of course he told you that it wasn't that easy.

“Scalvo….”

“I know, I know. Just a little while longer. I promise. I just need to stack enough for us to be secure and be able to leave Boston for good.”

“And if you get killed before that, what then?” You asked him as you sat up and crossed your arms.

“It's not going to happen. As long as I know that you're alive on this earth and that I have someone to come home to, I will do everything I can to make sure I get to hold you every night. I love you more than anything in this world. You know that.” He told you as he leaned forward to kiss you. Hearing that made tears prick your eyes, but you quickly wiped it away.

“I love you too. Just go before I change my mind and hold you hostage in this bed.”

“Hmm, you can tie me up later and have your way with me if that's what you're getting at.” He told you as he wiggled his eyebrows and you immediately rolled your eyes at him.

“One hour, princess.” He told you as he grabbed his wallet, keys, and gun from the nightstand. 

Having the gun in the bedroom with you was a whole nother discussion and you definitely didn't approve of it. But you knew he did it to keep the both of you safe. This was a step up because when you had first moved in, he slept with it under his pillow.

“I'm holding you to that.”

“Go back to sleep and I'll bring breakfast back for you.”

You nodded as he placed the comforter back over you to tuck you in before kissing your forehead once more.

As he locked the apartment and went down the elevator and out to the parking garage, someone was leaning on his car that was parked next to yours. He made sure that he had a good hold on his gun before approaching them.

When he did, he was startled to find out it was your father.

“Mr. Lawson?”

He turned to him as he took a long sip of his coffee.

“We need to talk.”

“I wish I could I just….”

“This won't take long. Less than two minutes and you'll be on your way.”

“Okay, sure.”

“From the moment we met, I knew I had seen you before. So I did my research with a few buddies that I know and found out about you and what exactly you do for Mr. Besegai. Now let me make this perfectly clear because I am only going to say this once. Stay away from my daughter. I don't want her anywhere near someone like you. Besides, what could you possibly offer her? I know what happened a few months ago and that would have never been the case had she not met you. I know that it was you and your little friend Cobby that broke into my house. If you don't, I will easily have the FBI investigate you and put you away for the rest of your life. I don't want to have this conversation again. Have a good day now.”

As soon as he was done talking, he walked to his range rover and slid into the driver's seat and pulled off leaving Scalvo at a loss as to what had just happened.

He couldn't worry about that now, he had a job to do.

However, what scared him the most was knowing that he had to tell you what had just happened.

[freelancearsonist]

Whole

Steve Harrington x fem!Reader

Rated MA for the most long-winded poetic smut i've ever written jfc 🤦‍♀️ slow burn fluff with a couple sprinkles of angst for flavor, reader uses fem pronouns and is described as having female parts, it's dirty y'all but at least they use protection

7,470 Words

A/N: you all know my mo by now i disappear for a year and then come back and lay down some god damned PORN. this fic is no exception to the rule. @shakespeareanwannabe requested this back in july and she literally just asked for a cute moment between steve and dustin, sorry you got 6k words more than you bargained for 😂 but also thank you for betaing and the constant validation you're the best ily 🖤

Steve’s not sure how it even worked.

He can still remember the look on Robin’s face when you agreed, how she was speechless for almost ten minutes because she couldn’t process what had just happened.

Steve’s reaction was about the same as hers, in all honesty. He’s gotten so used to striking out that asking people out has become something of a game to him. He knows he’ll get a no, and he knows Robin will laugh her ass off at him. But what can he say? He likes putting a smile on his best friend’s face.

Needless to say, you’ve shaken him. In the best possible way. Because your answer was three letters instead of two.

And now, he's a little bit in over his head.

Or, to be more accurate, a lot in over his head.

It seems like it’s been ages since he’s gone on a date, even though it’s only been a few months at most. He feels lost, like he’s completely unlearned everything he ever knew about girls.

He hates it, despises it with every fiber of his own being, but he also knows it’s true; he needs advice. And although he’ll never admit it to the little shithead’s face, there’s no one better he can think of going to than his very own protege. Who better to remind him of his own prowess than the person who learned everything they know from him?

One look at Dustin’s smug little face and Steve almost regrets it. Almost.

“Just can’t stay away, can you?”

“Yeah, yeah.” Steve rolls his eyes and gives the younger boy a little shove, camouflaging it with an affectionate pat on the back. “This is strictly business, Henderson.”

“Oh, is it now?” The younger boy’s voice takes on a smug tone as he folds his fingers together and leans back in his chair. “Well then, why don’t you have a seat? Step into my office.”

Steve rolls his eyes and slides into the booth, shooting a smile and a “thank you” to the kind waitress who delivers two milkshakes to their table.

Dustin takes his time and makes a meal of unwrapping his straw, feeding off of Steve’s clear impatience Steve’s fingers tap against the table, reminding himself that patience is necessary when you come to someone for a favor. It’s just that it’s Dustin, and Dustin knows exactly how to get under the older boy’s skin in the most annoying-yet-oddly-endearing fashion.

“So…” Dustin finally says after a lengthy sip of strawberry milkshake. “What brings you so humbly to me?”

“I’ve got a date.”

And Dustin, the little bastard–he laughs. A deep, rumbling belly laugh, so pure and unfiltered that the three other occupied tables in the diner pause their conversations to get a look at the boy clutching his sides.

Steve’s a little embarrassed by the attention, but even more embarrassed that Dustin’s reaction is so genuine. The fact that the idea of him having a date is so laughable is a bit of a punch to the gut. It hasn’t really been that long, has it?

When Dustin’s laughter finally dies down he realizes Steve’s face is completely serious, and it makes him giggle even more.

“Wait, you’re actually serious? Who on earth did you manage to pull?”

Steve’s nearly bashful as he says your name, and even more bashful when Dustin’s jaw visibly drops.

“No fucking way. I’d believe anyone else, but her? She’s like… hotter than Phoebe Cates. There’s no way you wouldn’t strike out with her.”

Steve’s immediately on the defensive. Is it really so hard to believe that he, former king of Hawkins High, could pull the most gorgeous girl in town?

But that’s just it. There’s really no one like you, not in his eyes. He’s admired you since freshman year and never once even tried with you because he knew he wasn’t worthy. You were always in the background–a beautiful, kind, smart, funny girl just out of his reach. Part of the reason he even asked you out was because he was so sure he would strike out. In the end, losing his confidence was exactly what he needed to pull the girl of his dreams.

And that’s why there’s so much riding on this. You’ve always been his biggest “what if”, the girl he wonders about when thinking that maybe not trying has been holding him back. And apparently, it has.

“Look, I don’t even know how it happened, okay? But she said yes, and… and I really don’t want to blow it.”

“Well duh. You’ll have to leave town if you blow it with her, you know that, right? If she doesn’t think you’re worth it, no one else in this town ever will again.”

“That’s exactly what I’m afraid of!” Steve groans, slouching down so far in the booth that Dustin can just barely see his poor, overwhelmed face.

“Steve, listen…” Dustin’s voice takes on an almost fatherly quality, an omniscient tone that gives off the illusion of great hidden knowledge. He gets like this sometimes, and Steve’s not always sure that it is just an illusion. “Don’t let this go to your head, but you’re, like, one of the coolest guys I know. If she doesn’t like you… that’s her problem, not yours. Okay?”

Steve straightens in his seat, a little shocked to hear such kind words from a friend that he’s used to being mercilessly teased by.

“No, no, no, it’s going to your head. I take it all back. Forget I said anything.” Dustin’s hearty giggle makes Steve smile as he sets a wad of bills on the table and slides out of the booth.

“You’re not so bad Henderson, you know that?” He gives the younger boy’s full head of curls an affectionate ruffle. “Thanks, kid. I’ll radio later.”

Not that Steve didn’t have total faith in his young protege, but it’s still a relief that the pep talk turned out to be exactly what he needed to hear. Dustin’s right, after all. Steve’s worked hard to become the man he’s always wanted to be. He may not be dripping charisma or sex appeal the way he used to, but he’s much more comfortable in his own skin. That’s what counts, right?

And you really are his dream girl. The opportunity to take you out tonight, even if it ends up being your first and only date together, is an honor. He’s much less focused now on all the ways he could screw up, hyper-fixated on putting the effort in to make this the best night of your life.

That effort comes out in the carefully selected suit jacket he dons over his white button-up, the extra spritz of cologne, the careful touch-up shave to vanquish his five o’clock shadow, the extra ten minutes using the perfect amount of product in his hair so that it stays in place yet is still soft to the touch.

By the time he gets to Enzo’s (half an hour early, mind), he’s practically vibrating with nerves and anticipation. He’s never been much of an overthinker, but he sure is tonight. Is this place too much for the first date? Would you rather do something lowkey, like catch a movie or go for a walk in the park? He has to remind himself a couple of times that you agreed to this, that you wouldn’t have said yes if you weren’t interested in the arrangement.

To say he’s prepared for this is putting it lightly. He’s run through every possible scenario in his mind, gone over conversation starters and questions he wants to ask you over and over again until he knows exactly how he wants to phrase each thing.

And still, nothing could prepare him for when you walk through the door.

He has to physically restrain his jaw from dropping because in the moment he sees you, every well-planned thought and all etiquette is flushed down the proverbial pipes. You’re nothing short of breathtaking in a dress that hugs all the right curves and shows just enough cleavage to have him imagining what else there might be to see. Your hair is pinned back out of your face, eyes framed by just the slightest bit of makeup to make the color of your irises pop. He swears he’s never seen a shade quite like them. It’s like you move in slow motion as you approach him–he sees the entrance of the smoking hot love interest in every romantic comedy, complete with smoke and fireworks, as you move towards the table.

And then some sense of decorum returns to his addled brain, and he quickly shoots up so he can pull out your chair for you like a proper gentleman. He catches just the slightest whiff of your perfume, and he’s a goner. He’s ready to sign his life away to you, to yank his own heart out of his chest to offer to your careful hands.

He has to give his head a shake to compose himself before he goes any further off the deep end. No one’s ever thoroughly shaken him the way you have, and it’s been a matter of thirty seconds. It’s almost intimidating, the effect you have on him.

“You look… incredible,” he fumbles as he takes his seat across from you. “I mean, you always do, but… wow.”

The shy giggle you emit tugs at a heartstring he didn’t even know he had.

“Thank you,” you tell him with a genuine smile. “You clean up very well yourself.”

“I do like to put in some effort every once in a while.” He flashes the most charming smile he can muster, and just like that he’s back. His resolve to impress you is reinforced tenfold. You’ve shaken him, and it’s such an unfamiliar feeling that he’s practically bumbling. He wants to shake you just as badly.

The food’s delicious, and the conversation’s even better. He has a track record for taking out a more–for lack of a better term–bimbo-y type, and that’s definitely not you. You’re smart, you’re witty, but you don’t make him feel like an idiot. He’s so taken with you that he doesn’t even notice that three hours have passed until he looks around the room and notices that every table is now empty and bussed.

The waiter delivers the check, and Steve notices you gnawing on your lip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks, trying not to be too prying.

“I don’t want this to be over yet.”

Steve smiles. He’s got you; hook, line, and sinker. He’s never been so sure of anything, and that surprises him. He’s used to dates who are easy to read and even easier to take home, and those aren’t the impressions you’ve been giving him. To know that you’re feeling exactly what he’s feeling is a huge confidence boost.

“I don’t either.”

Your hand is so small compared to his. That’s all he can think about as he strolls next to you, his fingers intertwined with yours. He’s always considered hand-holding to be child’s play, it’s never excited him before the way it does in this moment with you.

It’s pitch black in the park and he can hear the overlapping chirping of summer cicadas and grasshoppers, the perfect background noise now that the conversation has died down. It’s less about getting to know each other at this point and more just basking in each other’s presence, prolonging the inevitable because neither one of you can bear to call it a night when it’s been such a good few hours.

You’re shocked, to say the very least. Steve certainly has a reputation, and it’s not for being a romantic. Yet everything tonight has flown in the face of all the rumors you’ve been hearing since junior high. You figured he’d be a fun fling, and probably only one night at that–you’d made your peace with the idea. To find that he’s kind, considerate, funny, and can match your intellect and quick wit… it’s a very pleasant surprise. And that’s what has you out well past a decent hour, giddy over simply holding his hand like you’re a damned school girl all over again.

“I should probably let you go home,” Steve sighs wistfully. He hates to be the one to bring it up, but you’re on your fifth lap around the park and about to circle back to where your car is parked so now seems the best time.

You’re chewing your lip again, a thoughtful habit that makes his heart pound just a little bit harder.

Here’s the thing: you’re really not the bold type. You act confident, sure, but in practice it’s a lot more difficult for you. So no one’s more surprised than you are when you say, “You could come home with me. If you want.”

Steve’s definitely shocked, too. Less shocked at your proposition and more at the fact that he’s tempted to decline. Because no matter how much he’s been running through the back of his mind what you might look like under that gorgeous dress, he doesn’t want this to end there. For the first time in his life, he wants to find more meaning than sex out of a relationship. He doesn’t want to take you home and never see you again. He wants to take you out again, and again, and again, and again after that. He sees a future, for once, that doesn’t look dim and hopeless. That fact alone scares the shit out of him.

He realizes he’s waited way too long to reply and fumbles for an answer. “Of course I want to. I’d be an idiot not to. But…”

You chew that cursed bottom lip of yours again, and Steve has to focus on the obvious cue you’re giving him rather than the fact that he wants to be the next set of teeth around that lip.

He stops in his tracks, gently pulling on your hand to face him so he can take your other hand in his free one. “It’s not a bad but. I mean, I’m going to go home kicking myself for saying no because I really honestly do want to… well, y’know. But… I want to do this right with you. I want to take you out again. I want to get to know you and see where this goes. I can’t… I don’t want this to end tonight.”

He’s eternally grateful for how dark it is as he feels a flush consume his face. He can’t remember a time he’s been so honest and open, especially on a first date; but the look on your face tells him he’s done something right.

“Okay,” you tell him, squeezing his hands in yours. “You… honestly have no clue how nice it is to hear that.”

“Of course,” he continues, “if you just want me for my body, no hard feelings.”

You laugh at that, genuinely laugh, and Steve thinks it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“No,” you reassure him. “No, I… I wanna see where this goes, too.”

You’re stopped only a few paces from your car, and Steve knows with a twist of his gut that this is the end of the night. It makes his gut turn with disappointment, but also with anticipation of when he’ll see you next. Already, his mind is flooding with ideas of where he can take you and what you’ll do together.

You drop one of his hands so you can walk but keep a tight grip on the other until you get to your driver’s side door, hesitating outside because you’re still not ready for this to be over. It takes every ounce of restraint he has not to kiss you, unsure of if that would be moving too fast.

Thankfully, you make the call yourself. Leaning up on your toes, hands against his chest for balance, you press your lips against his and he has to summon every mite of strength not to moan. No one’s ever tasted so sweet, molded against him so perfectly. His hands drift from your shoulders down your arms, coming to rest on your waist as he pulls you just a little bit closer. It’s a fight of will not to overstep, to break off the kiss before it can become too heated. His mind is spinning by the time you break away. He’s aching for more, and he hopes you are too. 

“Goodnight, sweetheart.”

“Goodnight, Steve.”

Your sweet voice replays in his mind all night, long after you’ve gotten into your car and driven away, long after he’s returned to his own vehicle and pulled the radio out from under the driver’s seat to check in with Dustin, long after he arrives home and soaks in a cold shower for longer than he probably should. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get your voice out of his head, and he couldn’t be any less upset about it.

He practically counts down the minutes until he sees you again. This time, he has a little less restraint. He greets you with a kiss–a sweet peck and a hand on your waist that leaves you aching for even more.

It’s a movie this time, a chance to enjoy each other’s company on a night you’re both too tired from working to engage in heavy conversation and getting to know each other further.

It starts with sharing popcorn, then holding hands, then somewhere along the way the film is completely forgotten in favor of your lips meeting his. His breath grows heavy as his hands hold your face, committing you to memory while resisting the urge to explore further. Your hands, meanwhile, are firmly on his thighs, gripping tightly to keep yourself steady as you do everything you can to keep yourself from crawling into his lap.

He whispers your name, and your grip on him tightens.

“W-we shouldn’t…” he murmurs, then gives up on the futile attempt at finishing his sentence so that he can pull you even deeper into the kiss as his tongue sweeps across your bottom lip.

It takes everything in him not to moan when your lips eagerly part to accept him.

Needless to say, once the credits start rolling you’re both more than a little hot under the collar.

“Let me buy you dinner,” Steve suggests as he woefully unwinds himself from you. Declining doesn’t even flicker through your mind as a possibility.

It’s not Enzo’s this time, but it doesn’t have to be. He could set a soggy peanut butter and jelly sandwich in front of you at this point and you’d still thank him for it. This time around, you’re not really as interested in the cuisine as you are just simply getting through this meal to what’s next. Because what’s next is all you’ve been thinking about since you walked through the doors the night of that very first date and saw Steve Harrington wearing a blazer for you. It’s a level of effort he’s definitely not known for–in fact, he’s built a reputation for putting in so little effort that it nearly made your jaw drop to see him trying. And it certainly made your heart skip a beat.

But then again, the Steve before you carelessly wolfing down his bacon cheeseburger seems very different from the Steve you knew in high school, even if you didn’t know that iteration as intimately as this one. That one was cool, collected, snarky and pompous and maddeningly desirable.

This Steve, your Steve, is nearly an exact foil. Much less cocky, a little less confident but more self-assured in the ways that actually hold meaning, less worried about what the people around him are observing of him than what you’re observing of him. He seems happier, more carefree, more eager to please others than simply himself. He’s grown so much in such a short amount of time, and you feel proud just for having the honor to witness it. Significantly more proud to be on the receiving end of his affections now that they hold the kind of value you’ve always wished they would.

He looks up and notices you staring at him while lost in thought, a small smile spreading across his lips as your eyes quickly dart away.

“What’s on your mind?” He questions as he licks a stray bit of ketchup from his thumb.

“Just… happy I’m here. With you.” It brings heat to your cheeks to admit it, but you don’t want him to go unappreciated in this moment.

It’s the right thing to say, because his smile grows even wider. “I’m happy too,” he admits. “I… I’ve wanted to ask you out for a while. Could never work up the courage, I guess.”

“Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington was intimidated by me?” You say it with a mock gasp, but your shock is more genuine than you give off. Never in a million years would you have thought that he, the man who could have whoever he wanted, would be worried over you saying no to him. It’s almost comical, especially considering the way you practically threw yourself at him on your first date. Of course then, you had no clue how much he’d developed as a person. You’re almost ashamed of your behavior now, as if you might’ve inadvertently been taking advantage of the new and improved Steve who isn’t just into you for a hookup.

He shrugs, nearly bashful at your teasing. “Never figured I was good enough for you. So I didn’t bother to try.”

You’re genuinely curious now, leaning in a little closer and brushing your fingers against his hand resting atop the diner counter. “What made you change your mind?”

“Honestly? I was so sure you’d say no that I asked just to give Robin a chuckle. She loves watching me get shot down.”

That makes you frown, and he’s quick to backtrack. “I wanted to! I just… I’ve had a bad track record lately. And you’re… you’re you. You’re the last person I should be worthy of.”

His eyes are quick to avert from your gaze, bottom lip tugged between his teeth as he contemplates whether he’s said too much.

“Steve…” you properly grab his hand now in the hopes that it’ll bring his eyes back to you, and it works. “You’re the only person I’ve deemed worthy in a long time, honestly.”

Steve Harrington is scaldingly warm. It’s one of many sensations forcing your mind into overdrive as he lays you delicately across the backseat of his beemer, one hand cushioning the back of your head while simultaneously deepening the already heated kiss and the other balancing his weight to lean over you in the cramped space without completely crushing you.

Your fingers tangle themselves into his soft brown locks, tugging ever-so-slightly as his tongue slips between your parted lips. He’s an eager explorer and you’re more than happy to let him take the lead, to show you all the skill you’ve heard so many whispers about.

You let out an involuntary moan as he wedges himself even closer to you, his body heat soaking through all the layers of clothing between the two of you and warming you all the way to your very bones.

You’re practically aching, ready to beg, and he knows it the second you wrap your legs around his waist in an attempt to get him even closer. If there’s one thing Steve Harrington’s good at, it’s assessing your needs. He pulls away just the slightest bit to adjust his position so he can get closer, wedging a knee between your legs to press right against your core, and it makes you jolt back against the car door at the same time his head hits the roof just a bit too hard.

You both pause for a moment, the reality of your situation hitting you simultaneously, and then you’re laughing. It’s light and edged with unresolved want, but it’s enough to fracture the tension of the moment.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Shouldn’t have gotten so carried away. This isn’t how I want to do this.”

“No?”

“No. You deserve way better than this old beater,” he chuckles, then leans down to kiss you. This kiss is lighter, no longer edged with tension and lust. He kisses you just to kiss you–there’s no end goal to it this time.

“What could be better than a BMW?” You tease lightly, trying to reassure him that you’re less disappointed than you really feel.

“You know. Something romantic. A proper bed, rose petals, maybe a few candles…”

“I don’t need all that,” you try to tell him.

“I think I do,” he admits. And that’s enough to pull you back, to remind you that you need to be patient and grateful that he values you so much as to want to do this whole thing properly. That his affection is something to be cherished, not taken for granted.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to be pushy.”

“Please don’t apologize.” He hesitates to untangle himself from you, even though he knows he needs to. “I want this just as bad. I just… I need it to be right.”

“As long as I have you, it’ll be right,” you reassure. “I hope you know that.”

He presses his lips to yours again, a slow and passionate kiss that he hopes communicates every bit of adoration he feels for you in this moment.

“It’ll be perfect. I swear,” he vows. You’ve never believed anything more whole-heartedly than you do this promise. 

~~~

“Wait, you’re telling me that you literally had her under you and you stopped?” Robin’s halfway through chewing a mouthful of popcorn and the absolute carnage inside her agape mouth makes Steve give her a light shove.

“It’s not polite to talk with your mouth full, y’know.”

“It’s not polite to blue-ball either!” She shoots back in utter disbelief.

“How do you think I felt? I was this close,” he holds his thumb and index finger barely millimeters apart, “to sealing the deal.”

She just shakes her head. “You, Steve Harrington, are a genuine, bonafide idiot.”

She’s not telling him anything he doesn’t know. It’s been three days since the aborted fling in the backseat of his car, and he’s barely thought of anything else. Especially since you’ve been away from home both of the past nights when he’s called. He’s starting to worry you’ve gotten the wrong impression, that he’s not interested or that he’s toying with you. It’s the exact opposite. He wants nothing more than to know you in the most intimate way he can know you. But he needs it to be flawless. He needs it to be well thought-out and precisely planned, the most romantic event in the history of copulation. He won’t settle for anything less, not with you. You deserve perfection, and he won’t give you anything less.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he tries to explain. “I want to more than anything. But if you’re gonna go to town on a goddess, you need to do some worshiping, y’know? I don’t feel like I’ve done enough.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as you hear this admission. You weren’t sure what to expect–worried that maybe visiting him at work was an overstep–but hearing him call you a goddess certainly wasn’t on your radar.

“You’ve done more than enough, Steve.”

The sound of your voice makes Steve jump and whirl around, oblivious to Robin’s sly smirk and mumbled excuse of needing to attend to something in the back room.

“H-hey!” He squeaks, then clears his throat in an attempt to get his tone back to its normal octave. “What… what’re you doing here?”

“Oh, just came to pick up a tape,” you tease. “But mostly I came to see you.”

“Me?” He takes a moment to ground himself, loosening his too-tight grip on the counter. “I mean… I tried to call you last night. And the night before?”

Your brow furrows. “Really? I didn’t get your message.”

Because he didn’t leave one. He clears his throat and says, “I just figured you were busy.”

“Oh, well, I volunteer at the animal shelter on Wednesdays, and last night was my friend’s 21st birthday. I’m sorry I missed you, though.”

He can tell that you’re really remorseful, and it makes his heart squeeze in his chest a little bit. He plays it off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “No, it’s fine, it’s… are you free tonight?”

You giggle at the abrupt redirect, but he’s played directly into your hand.

“Yeah, actually. I was hoping maybe you could help me pick out something for us to watch tonight? If you’re free too, that is.”

His dark eyes blink slowly, wondering if you’re aware of the implication behind your completely innocent words. You. Him. A movie. Alone. It’s enough to make his head spin. 

“I’ve never been freer.”

Conveniently, you’ve come in close enough to the end of his shift that by the time you’re done combing through Family Video’s vast selection for the perfect film to use as background noise, Steve’s ready to clock out. And since you walked over after finishing your own shift at the local dollar store up the street, it works out perfectly that he can give you a ride straight to his place.

You only glance in the backseat once, but it’s enough to get your mind churning. Remembering the feeling of him, of what could’ve been. Anticipating what will be.

“Parents home?” You ask as he pulls into his driveway and parks, trying to sound casual and utterly failing.

“Nope,” he answers easily. “Took a detour to Cabo on their way home from Hawaii.”

“Sounds glamorous. You opted out?”

“I’d rather be here in Hawkins with you than on a beach alone anyday.”

He must know the effect his words have on you. Surely he can hear the way your heart picks up pace as he looks at you with those dark, affectionate eyes.

“So… this is home.” He waves a hand around the entrance hall like it’s a shabby nightmare, not the grandest house you’ve ever been in.

“I’m starting to understand why they used to call you King Steve.”

He’s almost embarrassed at the mention of that old high school nickname. “Trust me, this isn’t why.”

“Well, a palace does befit you,” you tell him with a smirk.

“Stop, you’re gonna make me blush.” The wink he shoots you makes your gut erupt with butterflies, a sensation that would normally make you a little uncomfortable. With Steve, you’d take the butterflies all day long.

He gives you a cursory and oversimplified tour of the ground floor before leading you upstairs, and suddenly he’s sheepish. It’s been a few moons since he shared his room with a girl, so the nerves are justified. But that’s too simple an explanation. You’re not a girl. You’re his dream, his muse, his–to re-quote himself–goddess. No one he’s ever cared about more has stood where you’re standing, and it terrifies him.

He hides it well, though, busying himself with making a comfortable nest for you in his bed before setting up the television set on the dresser against the far wall. If ever there was a time to regain his confidence, it’s now. He curses whatever god there is that he feels like a fumbling virgin in this moment when nothing is even happening, when just the anticipation is enough to make his hands tremble.

There’s no more stalling once you’re comfortable and the tape is set to play. His heart pounds to the steady and frantic rhythm of one of those heavy rock songs Dustin listens to now as he sits next to you, hands itching to take a hold of you but also eager not to move too fast.

Almost as if you can sense his hesitation, you reach over and take his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“Kiss me.”

And so he does, and the second his lips slot to yours all the worry and anxiety is gone. He’s Steve Harrington, and he knows what he’s doing. You’re you, and he’s wanted this for so long. After years of being lost, he deserves to finally find the love he’s been looking for. He’s never been so sure of anything as he is, in this moment of initial clarity, that he’s in love with you.

He can’t say it, not yet. He’s sure it’s too soon, and the last thing he wants is to scare you off. But he’s determined to prove it to you, and the only way besides words is action.

He can handle action.

There’s no more restraint or hesitation behind his touch. This is it, this is what you’ve both been waiting for. There’s no way in hell he’s not going to deliver now. He’s desperate for you, and it shows in the heavy way his hands drag along your curves whilst committing you to memory; the way his tongue languidly swipes across your bottom lip; the way he shifts effortlessly to hover over you even while deepening the kiss.

He’s overwhelming every single sense of yours in such a sudden fashion, and you wouldn’t want it any other way. Especially not when his hips meet yours in a deliciously slow grind and you finally get your first little taste of what’s to come.

He keens at the little breathless whimpers that leave your mouth, reading every single signal you provide him with and accommodating each. Moaning? He continues what he’s doing, intensifying if deemed necessary. Whining? He adds something, because he knows it’s hard to use your words when you’re wanting so badly. Squirming? He pays attention to the direction of your movement and pulls away or presses closer depending on necessity. It’s down to science for him; he only really cared about extracurriculars in school anyway, and this was certainly his favorite.

But then he comes to his senses–while he doesn’t pull away completely, he needs to clear his mind and he does so by letting up a bit, allowing the kiss to become languid and the heat to extinguish a bit. It only makes you whine more, and Steve curses his damned formula. You shouldn’t be part of an equation. You’re everything he’s ever wanted, and every aspect of your relationship so far has been a new experience for him. He needs this particular activity to be different too. No formulas or calculations. Just you and him and whatever happens naturally.

Clearly you can hear the cogs in his mind turning. You pull away with a concerned look on your face and ask, “what’s on your mind?”

Now’s not the time to hide anything from you, he reasons with himself. He wants to be authentic with you, and part of that means telling the truth, even if it’s not something particularly comfortable.

“I’m… falling into a routine. And I don’t want to,” he admits. He sighs and leans back, one hand dragging through his shaggy and disheveled hair, sure that he’s going to ruin the mood if he carries on like this. But he refuses to back away from the truth now. “This… it’s always been like…. Like a series of checkpoints. Boxes to check, y’know? Kiss you, take your clothes off, make you come, fuck you, say goodnight. And I don’t want… I can’t let it be like that with you. I need this to be… real. Not just some list to cross shit off of. I don’t–”

Steve takes a long, shaky breath before he can ramble on anymore. Never has someone so thoroughly gotten under his skin. He’s never felt so insecure, so unsure. It’s terrifying. The most terrifying part of it all, though, is that he likes it. He loves the feeling of the unfamiliarity, of doing this right. In a way, it’s almost like he’s doing all of this for the first time all over again. You’re his first date, first kiss, first time. All because he’s changed so drastically, because he’s not even remotely the same person he was just a year or two ago.

Your hands are so gentle as you cup his face, tenderly forcing his eyes to meet yours.

“Steve… we don’t have to do this, not if you’re not ready. I want to be with you, not just for this, but for everything. Everything that comes with you… that’s what I want. There’s no pressure. I would wait a hundred years for you to be ready so long as I could still have you.”

Steve’s breath shakes a little as he comprehends the gravity of your words. There’s nothing he can say that can properly convey the gratitude he holds for your words, so he says nothing at all.

In his silence, you continue. “You’re more than a body, you know that, right? You’re funny, and kind, and smart. Yes, smart, don’t look at me like that. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted to be close to. I just… I want to spend time with you. I want to watch stupid movies and eat diner food until we get sick and laugh at your stupid jokes… and maybe make love with you, sure, but that’s pretty low on the list as long as I just get to be with you.”

He doesn’t notice the tears until it’s too late–by the time you’re wiping them from the apples of his cheeks it’s far too late to take them back or hide them. With anyone else, he would be angry; at himself, for allowing himself to be so vulnerable. For allowing himself to be so emotional. With you, though… with you, his emotions make him feel strong. 

For the first time since you walked into his life, he’s not scared of losing you.

“I love you,” he tells you. His voice is firm, as fierce as the kiss he presses to your mouth, as powerful as the waves of emotion vibrating through his very soul. “I love you so much.”

He barely gives you a chance to reply, as keen as he is on physically proving his love to you through myriad passionate kisses that leave you breathless. But when you finally get the chance to use your voice after a barrage of kisses that start to trail down your neck, you whisper, “I love you too.”

Four words, and they’re all he needs to quell every worry or fear he’s had over doing this relationship properly with you. Why should he have to worry, after all, when he’s already succeeded? 

“I love you,” he whispers as he trails down your neck and to your chest, leaving tender love bites on the tops of your breasts once he’s properly liberated you from your shirt.

“I love you,” he mumbles through sucking a mark a few inches north of your navel.

“I love you,” he murmurs when his lips meet your waistband. His fingers make quick work of your pants as he scatters kisses over your stomach, unable to part his mouth from your skin for even a moment.

“I love you,” he affirms as his mouth meets your hot and waiting core.

There’s no more checklist. Because this isn’t simply sex, as it always has been for him in the past. This is love-making: the kind of sappy shit they talk about in all those Hallmark movies that he rolls his eyes at the sight of. It’s like losing his virginity all over again.

He understands the old adage of “the other half” now. You’ve ripped him to shreds and sewed him back together with strands of yourself. The end result is better than the original ever could’ve even dreamed to be. He’s sure he couldn’t possibly live without you now, that losing you would be like ripping out fresh and unhealed stitches.

You’re not sure how long he camps out between your trembling thighs, but it’s long enough for you to lose count of the number of times he pulls you apart–first with his languid tongue; then his long, curved fingers; then a combination of the two. It’s like he loses himself completely in your pleasure, not a single thought in his head except what he can do to bring you to the edge again, and again, and again.

You’re trembling with oversensitivity by the time his own needs overtakes his desperation to unravel you. So out of it that you feel drunk, like Steve’s laced you with absolute bliss so pure you can barely stand it.

You’re hardly present enough to appreciate the adonis before you when he finally undoes his own jeans, and that’s a damned shame because he’s so damned pretty. Long and thick, flushed at the girthy tip from his hitherto unacknowledged arousal. His lean thighs are pure muscle, and the dark thatch of hair that trails south from his navel makes your mouth water. He’s everything you dreamed he’d be and so much more.

“Steve…” You don’t know what else you can possibly say. All you can do is vainly hope that one whine of his name can convey all of the heat, frustration, tension, and above all longing, swirling through your head in the moment.

He breaks from his lustful reverie for a moment to smile as he leans in for another heated kiss; you think it’s safe to say you’ve gotten your point across.

He slows from his mania for a few moments, lips tender as they explore against yours once more. These kisses are languid, slow, yet no less heated. Even now, he’s trying to prove his love to you. As if you could somehow not believe him after everything that’s happened, every small moment you’ve spent with him witnessing how hard he’s trying for you.

Somewhere in between kisses he manages to wrestle a condom out of his nightstand, miraculously without ever breaking from your lips.

Now is where you cut in, finally fading out of your over-pleasured fugue and back to reality. You take the little foil packet from his hands and tear it open, eager for this small chance to finally get a hand or two on him.

He lets out the most gorgeous noise you’ve ever heard as you roll the rubber down his length; a deep, earthy, diaphragmatic moan just from the simple touch of your hand. You want to touch him even more, to wrest out more of those sounds from him; to see what other undiscovered responses you can pull from him as you pleasure him. But you know that now, he needs to set the pace. He believes he has something to prove, and you’re more than happy to let him prove it. There will be plenty of other opportunities to have him completely at your mercy, anyway.

There’s no way to describe the feeling as he slides into you. It’s more than bliss, more than euphoria, more than earth-shattering toe-curling mind-altering pleasure. It’s nothing more than feeling whole. Of never knowing you were missing a part of yourself until it’s suddenly returned to you. Of never knowing what home felt like until this exact moment.

Maybe it’s overdramatic. Maybe it’s outlandish and outrageous and a million other adjectives to feel something so overpowering and overwhelming from such a seemingly simple physical act. But in this moment, you know you’ve never felt anything as right as being connected to Steve in this way.

His lips hardly leave yours while he rolls his hips against you, easily finding the perfect angle to make your breath hitch and your hands scrabble for purpose.

It admittedly doesn’t last long, but it doesn’t have to. Once you start to tighten and pulse around him, he’s a goner–deep purposeful thrusts turning to hard, arrhythmic plunges in desperate search of release.

You’re still shaking from your high when he slowly pulls out of you. He keeps you close, arms linked around your waist and dragging you to lay on his chest as he flops back against the pillows. 

You’re not sure how long you lay like that, with Steve whispering sweet nothings into your hair and pressing absentminded kisses to your face. All you can really focus on is one all-consuming, life-changing fact.

“I love you, Steve Harrington.”

“I love you too,” he whispers back. He kisses you again, just a simple peck on your lips, and you know that he’s telling the truth. It’s an eternal truth: one that can’t be changed or altered in any way. Steve Harrington loves you with every fibre of his being, and he will for the rest of his life–even if you’re both blissfully unaware of it for now.

THE END

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[serafilms]

song 7! jelly pop (boys planet) + percy jackson (the lyrics are lowkey so embarrassing i can’t lie,,, fire song though please hear me out) (2023 spotify wrapped event)

baby, i’m your jelly, like sugar, it melts into your heart, wow

As you peppered kisses all over his face, Percy couldn’t help but chuckle.

“What’s got you in such a good mood?”

You hummed happily as you pressed another kiss to his cheek, “Nothing. Just love you.”

Percy blushed, and accepted the rest of your kisses as his hands gripped your waist. The both of you were snuggled against each other on the floor of the Poseidon cabin, leaning on the side of his bed. You weren’t actually in the bed, just in case someone were to barge in and makes a big deal out what looked like a compromising position.

You liked being like this: close to him. You could smell the salt and something grainy as you pressed your nose to his neck. Percy Jackson smelled like the sea.

Percy grinned down at you and brought his hands up to your cheeks. He lifted your face out of the crook of his neck and looked into your eyes, feeling something tickle his heart. He laughed at your squished face and decided it was his turn to kiss it, pressing quick ones to both your cheeks before kissing your lips.

You gave out another happy hum as your hands shifted from his shoulders to clasp together at the back of his neck.

Despite the ocean scent that surrounded him constantly, Percy always tasted sweet. You weren't sure yet if it was an amalgamation of all the blue cupcakes, blue cherry cola, and strawberries, or just because he was, in fact, the sweetest guy ever.

Even after you'd pulled away, you couldn't help but lean in for more quick kisses to his lips. The taste was addictive, and you felt it seeping into your body, as if he was pouring melted candy all over your heart.

Percy accepted them happily, and looked a little disappointed when you'd finally had enough and sat back to stare at him for a second.

He blinked at you. "What?"

"Have you eaten any desserts today?"

"No?"

"No fruit or sugary drinks?"

"No," Percy said, looking increasingly confused.

"Then why do you taste so sweet?"

He stared at your face for a second, taking in how dead serious it was, before he started laughing. "What?"

"Don't try and dodge the question here, Perseus," you scolded, pointing your finger at him accusingly. He only laughed harder.

"Sorry, babe," Percy said between giggles, "Just caught me off guard there."

You threw your hands up in exasperation as your boyfriend tried to calm down. "Seriously, though. You always taste like– like.... jelly."

His eyes still twinkled with mirth but he looked at you as if entertaining your idea seriously. "Like what kind of jelly?"

"What do you mean 'what kind of jelly?'"

"Is it blue?"

"Well, how would I know? It's your mouth? I don't see any blue."

Percy's hands drifted onto your waist again. "How about I give you another kiss so you can figure it out, then?"

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn't hide the smile that fought its way onto your lips. "Calm down there, soldier."

He pressed a kiss to your cheek, then slowly made his way down to your jawline and across to the corner of your mouth. You felt your stomach flutter and your resolved crumble as you whined, "Percy, I'm serious here. I want to know."

"Okay, okay," he said, eyes still locked on your lips, "we'll figure it out tomorrow, alright? I promise. It'll be our next big mystery."

"You mean after the one where you disappeared off the face of the Earth for six months?"

"I didn't disappear off the face of the Earth," he huffed, "I was in New Rome."

"Yeah, yeah, I know." You grinned. "Okay, the next big mystery it is."

Percy grinned and kissed you again. Oh well, your questions could wait. Percy Jackson was your jelly tasting weirdo, and he wasn't going anywhere.

[veroniquesboutique]

A Wife's Intuition - Nanami Kento x Ino Takuma x Reader

Not me disappearing for months after a poll promising a JJK smut fic just to show back up with an unhinged threesome. School's out, and I am back!

You notice immediately that Ino Takuma is in love with your husband Nanami Kento. You are secure enough in your marriage to not be threatened by the crush. In fact, you might be super into it.

Title: A Wife' Intuition

Rating: Explicit

Warnings:

AFAB!Reader, Female Reader, Explicit PV Sex, Explicit Anal Sex, bottom Ino Takuma / top Nanami Kento, m-overstimulation, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex, f-receiving oral, threesome - MMF, small age gap between reader/Nanami and Ino, cum inside, pet names (good girl, darling, my dear, sweetheart, my love, etc), fingering, Ino is whiney in this

Characters & ships: husband!Nanami Kento x Ino Takuma x Reader

Word count: 2.9k words

18+ Minors DNI!

More explicit below the cut

You are so secure in your marriage with Nanami Kento that the sight before you of his cock disappearing into Ino Takuma’s ass doesn’t bother you in the slightest. In fact, you have the added benefit of Ino’s tongue between your thighs to complement the view.

_________________

This whole thing started because of your wife intuition. Nanami had invited Ino over for dinner a few nights ago, and the whole evening you watched Ino make heart eyes over your entirely oblivious husband. You weren’t convinced Ino had even noticed your presence until you brought out the homemade pineapple upside down cake you made, and even then, he spared little more than a passing glance before gluing his gaze back on Nanami’s jawline and sparkling brown eyes.

You could almost see Ino be carried off by cupid’s arrows.

“Do you know he’s in love with you?” You asked as soon as you shut the door after Ino said his goodbyes. Nanami scoffed, completely taken aback by your observation, as he loosened the tie around his neck and started back to the kitchen to help with clean up.

“In love with me? Are you mad?”

You followed behind him and settled next to him to dry the plates he washed in the sink. It’s an easy routine you fall into every night.

“I just know what it looks like to be in love with you. I’m, like, the expert.” You playfully smirked when he gazed down at you with a high arched eyebrow in disbelief. “He didn’t look over at me once all night. He just kept going ‘yes Mr. Nanami, sir’ and ‘oh Mr. Nanami you’re so funny’ and ‘wow Mr. Nanami you have such interesting stories!’” You mocked Ino’s voice to prove a point, and it made Nanami laugh.

“That’s just respect, sweetheart-”

“No, no I played the same game. I can tell you for sure that it’s not just respect.” You punctuated your thought with a gentle bat of the tea towel in your hand against his forearm as he drained the dishwater from the sink. As you fluttered away to deal with the leftovers, Nanami stayed at the sink for a few long moments, his head busy with thought as he stared out the small window sat right above the sink.

A night or two after that, as you were getting ready for bed, you realized that Nanami was unable to read as he usually did. Instead, he’d go a few pages before zoning out, arm of his glasses gently tapping between his teeth. When you finally got into bed next to him, he didn’t even flinch.

“Earth to Kento?” You tapped him on his shoulder, and he shook ever so slightly from the daydream he was in. “What’s on your mind?”

“Work, naturally,” He answered curtly, and you furrowed your brows at the tone of his response.

“Who’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Work, naturally,” You mocked his tone now, putting on a face to show exactly how weird he sounded. He rolled his eyes, placing his book on the table next to him and settling his glasses on his face to get a good look at you.

“Am I not allowed to be distracted by…disgruntled by work sometimes?”

“Of course you’re allowed to be, but you never sound like that. Something is bothering you.”

“I am sorry that my tone is not perfect for you always, my dear, but-”

“See you only call me dear when you’re being weird about things!” You interrupted him, and it made him blow a sigh out of his nose as he brought a hand up to rub at his chin. He stared at you, waiting for you to back down, but instead, you studied his eyes for what could be bothering him. “So what is distracting you at work?”

“I said disgruntled.”

“You said distracted first,” You tapped your finger on the tip of your nose in thought, thinking, thinking, thinking, and then the light bulb blinked above your head. “You’re distracted by Ino.”

“Absolutely not.” He rolled his eyes as he turned away, but the bright pink blush illuminating his skin gave away his lies. You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“Aw, is Kento embarrassed about a little schoolboy crush?” You playfully asked as he sunk into the sheets away from your gaze, but this caused him to stare up at you in disbelief.

“I do not have a crush!”

“I never said you did.”

“I hate these mind games you play.”

“The lady doth protest too much me thinks,” You hummed lowly, and finally in defeat he pressed his head back into the headboard of your shared bed.

“How are you not jealous?” He asked, scratching uncomfortably at the skin behind his ear. You waved a hand up and down your body, pointing out in particular the silky nightie you wore to bed.

“You’re not going to cheat on me. You’re madly in love with me. I’m secure enough in our marriage to not be threatened by a teenage boy-”

“Oh my God, please do not call him that!”

“He’s 19; it’s just the truth.”

“He’s 21, pretty much our age, and totally legal-”

You gasped as he blurted out his response. “Oh my God, you’ve thought about it!”

He groaned loudly at the way you’re running circles around his brain, and he dropped his face into his hands dejectedly. “I’m a terrible husband.” His admittance was barely above a whisper, and you could hear the crack in his voice, and you knew immediately he was taking it too hard. You curled up next to him, patting his arm and shushing him softly.

“Kento, you’re not a terrible husband at all. All married people think about others at some point in their relationship. I’m just surprised at who.”

Nanami groaned again in response.

“Have you ever thought about being with a man before?” You asked softly, and you could nearly feel the skin under your fingers burn as an embarrassed blush shoots through him.

“I can’t believe we’re having this conversation.”

“I can’t believe we haven’t already had this conversation.”

He considered for a second, finally lifting his head from his hands to stare you down, search for any jealousy behind your eyes, but when you told him you were completely secure, you meant it. When he seemed satisfied with what he saw, he sighed.

“Perhaps in the past I…considered….it.” “Have you been with a man before?”

There was a beat. “Yes. Well before you.”

You looked up at your husband, and you considered him and the idea of him having been with a man at some point before you, and you felt your own skin heat up. The image made your heart beat a little faster and your skin tingle where he touched you and your head swirl in circles but not from jealousy or anger but from…lust.

He insisted you slept in his arms that night, but neither of you seemed to sleep very well with the thoughts left twirling in your brain. A few days after that is when you made your proposition.

“Kento?” You called to him from the position where you were perched on the couch with your own book in hand. Your husband was fluttering around your house and getting ready for work.

“Yes, my love?”

“What if we ask Ino if he wants to have a threesome?”

Nanami’s first response was a loud crashing sound from in your closet. His second response was a string of swears as he fumbled out of the bedroom and into the living room where you sat. His third response was finally words.

“A threesome? With us?”

“Well, not with anyone else. I’m not that chill.” You laughed, and it broke Nanami’s shocked expression for just a moment with a small smirk of laughter.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think so. I’ve been thinking about this new discovery I’ve made of your…interests,” You wiggled your eyebrows suggestively at him, “And I think…I think my feral animal brain really, really wants to watch you fuck a man.”

He nearly choked at your honesty, and it excited you just a little to see that pink blush paint his face again. He fiddled with his tie, considering what to say in response for so long you started to think maybe you misread the whole situation.

But then, you didn’t. You have a wife’s intuition.

“I’ll speak to him,” He stated, too calm and collected, clearing his throat. “Today, maybe.”

_________________

And that’s how you found yourself here, with Ino moaning between your legs, his tongue a torrent against your most sensitive areas as Nanami thrusts balls deep into him from behind. You pant, hand gripping Ino’s hair tightly, as you stare at your husband, afraid you might miss something. The way his lip is tight in his teeth, the way his pupils dilate every time he hears you or Ino moan, the way sweat is already dripping slowly down his rippling abdomen with every thrust. It’s like your own personal porn staring your husband.

“He’s just so big,” Ino grunts into you, and you smile and throw your head back.

“I know, sweetheart.”

“I think I’m going to cum again.”

“I want to watch your pretty face as you cum for my husband,” You encourage slyly, and you hear Nanami scoff a laugh away as he leans into the mean thrusts he’s ramming into Ino below him. Ino’s eyes roll to the back of his head, and you watch as he sputters a few shots of cum onto the already messy sheets below. You scratch his scalp as he drops his head, panting and gasping for air; Nanami fucks him through the orgasm just like he would you.

“Flip him over,” Nanami grunts, pulling back so you can help Ino onto his back, and the way his body is shaking, he seems thankful for the pause.

Now that he’s on his back, you run your hands down his chest as Nanami gently readjusts himself. Gently, your nails graze over Ino’s nipples, twitching the pink buds lightly, and his finger tips grip into your thighs as his back arches ever so softly off the bed.

Nanami lifts Ino’s hips and guides him back gently onto his cock, and Ino writhes with the feeling of being so full again.

You hold his head in your lap and pet his hair out of his face, cooing softly with each near sobbing groan Nanami rips from his chest. He’s holding Ino’s ankles, pressing them back to be able to reach even deeper, but his eyes are on you brushing your thumbs down Ino’s cheeks and jaw.

“Oh God - Mr. - Mr. Nanami, I can’t-”

You brush your thumb against his lips to cut his words into moans. “He prefers Kento, love. Call him Kento.”

“K-k-k-kento, please, it’s too much,” Ino sobs as Nanami forces him to dribble another orgasm out of his shaking body. You throw your head back and laugh softly at the sight, and it’s then that Nanami leans all the way forward, ignoring Ino’s squirming and overstimulated body between you, and captures your lips in a long, sensual kiss. His tongue laps at your lips, and you gently trap it in your teeth, sucking it into your mouth with precision and dedication. Ino reaches and grips your hips, panting and staring in awe at the sight of you two above him.

“I want to taste my wife,” Nanami whispers as you pull away from him, and so you lean back again, spreading your legs as Nanami pulls out of Ino. Ino starts to move out of Nanami’s way, but you grab his shoulder and keep him between your thighs.

“You can stay,” You whisper, encouraging, and when Nanami lays down next to Ino, he runs a strong hand down his back to keep him there too. You spread your legs a little wider to accommodate the shoulders of both men.

Nanami starts with a soft bite to your inner thigh that makes you shiver, and Ino presses soft kisses against all the skin he can reach. You press your head back into the pillow, arching your back, and let out a long moan as Nanami’s tongue swipes against your clit. He sucks at you softly, his lips causing your eyelids to flutter and the breath to get caught in your throat. Ino presses his lips to your hip, occasionally biting the skin there, but his eyes are glued to Nanami eating you out.

“Here,” Nanami breathes out against you, and he takes Ino’s hand, folding his fingers and guiding his pointer and middle into you. Both you and Ino moan as you clench around his hand, and Nanami starts guiding Ino’s wrist in and out of you as he continues to lap at your clit. “Curl your fingers.”

Ino takes commands well, especially when they’re from Nanami, and you can immediately feel the change in pressure as he hits that sweet spot deep inside you with the help of Nanami’s direction. You curl your toes and grip the pillows under your head, your jaw dropping and locking open in a silent scream of pleasure.

“Your wife is so pretty,” Ino whispers, watching Nanami’s face curl into a smile as he changes to a fast flicking pace with his tongue. His only response is to guide Ino’s wrist faster into you. Your legs shake at the stimulation.

“I’m going to cum,” You finally groan out, pants and whimpers falling from your lips in a crazed state.

“Good girl,” Nanami whispers, joining Ino’s fingers with one of his own, bigger fingers inside of you, and the sudden stretch pushes you over the edge. You cum on their fingers, your pussy pulsating against them, and Ino gulps in shock and awe, which makes you laugh a little when you can catch your breath.

Without any words, Nanami leans up onto his knees and guides Ino to a spot beside you. He lifts your hips, and as he places soft kiss down the leg he places on his shoulder, you feel his tip tease your entrance, and the stimulation makes you roll your eyes back into your head.

“God, please fuck me Kento,” You groan, and that’s all he needs to plunge into you. Your vision nearly whites out as he bottoms out inside of you with ease, and the grumbling moan that comes from deep in his chest as you clench his length makes your toes tingle. He fucks into you, the pace rough and hitting you deeply and intensely, and it is contrasted by the way his fingers draw gentle circles in your skin wherever he can reach to touch you. Ino watches in fascination at you and your husband make dirty love to each other.

“Ino,” Nanami grunts out, jutting his chin to the place you and him are connected, “help us out like we helped you out?”

Ino nods obediently, and immediately, his fingers on one hand find your oversensitive clit while his other hand reaches around and cups Nanami’s balls as they hit against your skin. You both groan, and Nanami falls forward slightly, his lips hungrily finding yours. Your kisses are messy and wet, and they make you feel all the more sensitive as Ino rubs you in all the right places. Ino seems to hesitate next to you, leaning his head towards Nanami’s shoulder but afraid to interrupt.

“Go ahead, Ino,” You encourage, and so Ino shyly places his forehead to Nanami’s shoulder. He presses his lips against Nanami’s rippling arm muscles, and it makes Nanami shiver against you, a pant of pleasure escaping from his mouth into yours at the gentle attention Ino is paying to him.

“I’m so close, my love,” Nanami moans into your mouth, so you take his face in your hands.

“Cum in me, darling, please,” You moan back, and the groan that pours from Nanami’s lips as he throws his head back, exposing his neck to you, is enough to make you finish on his cock. Your whole body locks up as waves of pleasure burst through your body, your lips desperately sucking at Nanami’s neck for something, anything to ground you. Your eyes roll back as Ino keeps overstimulating you, and it the feeling of your clenching, desperate pussy that makes Nanami finish. You feel him pour hot ropes of his cum into you, and it causes one last shiver of pleasure roll down your spine. Nanami nearly collapses on top of you as Ino sits back on the bed.

After a moment of silence, you laugh. “God, you’re so good at that.” Nanami laughs tiredly and cockily in response. Sex seems to be the only time he’s not so humble, and it’s lucky for you that it’s deserved pride.

“Isn’t he good at that!” You turn towards Ino, who is blushing right next to you.

“Y-yeah, he’s really great.”

“Ino, don’t let her bully you into complimenting me.”

He bites his lip, and you let your eyes drop down to his lap. The sight brings a smile to your face.

Ino’s cock is hard once again, standing at attention and leaking with need. When Ino sees you staring, he covers his face with his hands in embarrassment.

“Well, darling,” you wiggle out from under Nanami and gesture towards Ino’s new burgeoning hard on. Nanami lets out an impressed sigh, his eyebrow cocking high on his forehead. “I hope you’re ready to go again.”

[avocado-writing]

if you’re open to writing for karlach, maybe something where she and tav come up with creative ways to be close without tav being burned? or just go nuts and crawl over to shadowheart for healing lol

notes: karlach is so fucking hot (literal and sexual) i am insane over her. i'd love to write for her more

rating: E

pairing: karlach x gn!reader (background shadowheart x lae'zel)

You met Karlach about a month ago, and you’ve never wanted a woman more in your life. 

Every part of her is perfection. Her toned stomach; her gorgeous eyes, her wild hair. You want to touch her so badly. Want to run your hand up the plain of her back and feel her shoulders shift under you when she wraps you in her embrace. Want to feel the crush of her lips against yours, the soft wetness when you press between her legs.

But she is on fucking fire, so there lies the issue.

You know she feels the same. When the rest of the camp is asleep you steal into her tent, the two of you whispering the filthy things you want to do to each other while pleasuring yourselves because you can’t physically fucking touch. It’s maddening. You want to be able to actually do them, not just promise that you will. 

You’ve seen her fingers disappear into her cunt as she moans your name, you’ve come against your palm while telling her how badly you want to taste her.

Gods. you are going to lose your mind over this tiefling.

Stripped off and with a fresh outfit slung over your shoulder, you stomp down to the pond just outside of camp in order to wash up that morning. Your mind is on other matters - tadpoles, mostly, and how on earth you’re going to save yourselves - but you are totally snapped out of your brooding when you see you’re actually not alone.

“Soldier. Didn’t think you’d be awake for another couple of hours yet, the way you tired yourself out last night,” says Karlach cheekily, grinning up from the water. She’s chest-deep, infernal engine running so hot that steam is churning up around her, leaving a clinging mist all over her shoulders and face. She dunks her head under to wet her hair and makes a beautiful arc as she resurfaces, shiny and dripping.

You stare. Your mouth has gone completely fucking dry. Your head has emptied of all thoughts save for two words: wet Karlach wet Karlach wet Karlach–

She raises an eyebrow. “Babe?”

You drop your clothes.

“Fuck it,” you say, and dive into the pond.

Her lips burn with a kiss long since needed, the pain being bearable for the pleasure of knowing her. Her cunt is almost excruciating to run your fingers across and yet you find yourself gritting your teeth and pressing your tongue inside, the magma of her orgasm deliciously burning your face. It’s so worth it. It’s so, so worth it for knowing you can make her come, and what your name sounds like from her lips when you’re the one bringing her there. She lets you fuck her thigh like a dog in heat and it feels like your sex is aflame. 

You have zero regrets, lying in the muddy pond bank, naked body covered in burns. You hear Karlach reapproaching with someone in tow, chattering nervously.

“Yeah, aha, we just er… got carried away. Sorry. I really do appreciate you helping us out, though!”

Shadowheart peers down at you, her mouth a tight line of disapproval. 

“Lady of Sorrows preserve us, look at the state of you,” she sighs. Despite the rawness of your injuries you manage a grin.

“Come on, don’t act as if this is the first time you’ll have used Cure Wounds after sex. I’ve heard the noises you and Lae’zel make.”

Her face goes a bright enough red to match the tiefling next to her, and Karlach throws her head back in uproarious laughter.

Every moment of pain is worth it, for her.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13 @trappedinlimbo15 @infinitely-kate @dhampling

[moolovesyou]

absent jealousy | angus tully x reader

a/n: writing this while watching diary of wimpy kid hell yeah. thank you to @xfrankiesmithx-blog for requesting!!!!!! i hope this is what you wanted because i think i got carried away lol. i am too much of a sucker for casual angst and scene building.

s: your relationship with angus is anything but serious, until jealousy forces you both to face reality.

w: cursing, suggestiveness, angst (absent parent)

wc: 3k.

Winter break was supposed to be a time to relax. A time to have fun. And maybe, just maybe, a time to tolerate family. My plans were simple. My days were going to be spent on the Florida beaches with piña coladas and poolside napping. This was a yearly tradition since the 6th grade.

Unfortunately, those hot and sandy dreams were crushed when my dad phoned me at Wickline Academy.

"What the fuck, dad?" I slammed my hand onto the wall beside the telephone.

"Language!" He huffed from the other end. A crackly sigh could be heard. "Listen, we just can't afford it. We need the money to keep you enrolled next semester."

My eyes watered. I blinked rapidly to prevent any tears from spilling out.

"I'm sorry, honey." My dad spoke with sorrow. "Money is tight ever since-. . . your mom. . ."

The call went silent.

It had been 3 months and he still couldn't say it. It was embarrassing for both of us to admit.

Left us. Since she disappeared off the face of the earth with my dad's wallet and my allowance. For the last 3 months, anger has just been festering within me like a cauldron of rage.

Now, I had to spend Christmas alone. If that wasn't already bad enough, it turned out the entirety of Wickline had to be fumigated due to a nasty roach problem. This landed every holdover from Wickline into the lion's den that is Barton.

Hunham stood in front of all 9 of us. 5 boys from Barton and 4 girls from Wickline. Much to my surprise, he was there.

Angus Tully.

We had met 2 years ago at a winter fundraiser. I had been serving drinks for the patrons when Angus waltzed over. From then on, the nature of our relationship was afflicted by our teenage hormones. Every time we saw each other it was a display of lingering eye contact and flirty comments. I never knew if he was serious.

"There will be no fornication, no hanky-panky, no coupling. So help me god, if any of you even stand one inch too close I will make you sleep in the snow." Hunham's voice boomed. He leaned forward, scooching a girl and a boy away from each other.

Angus and I locked eyes for a moment. He furrowed his brows for a second, as if he was confused at my presence. Then he smirked.

"Now, it is time to fuel your young brains with knowledge!"

A chorus of groans erupted from us.

We sat separated. Boys on one side of the study room, girls on the other. Hunham sat in the corner overlooking all of us. A lack of interest fogged all of our minds. Everyone was kind of just looking at their books instead of actually reading.

I glanced up. From across the room, a boy with long dirty blond hair waved at me. I think his name was Jason. He was pretty cute. I waved back, a small smile playing on my lips.

A curly-headed Angus turned around, head snapping between me and Jason. He rolled his eyes and shook his head.

Later on, we got to spend some time away from studying. We had all grouped together, walking through the snowy woods. Two of the other girls had cozied up next to Kountz. I was collecting fallen pinecones from the ground.

"What brings you here? Kingdom banished their princess?" A voice chuckled from behind. My head flicked around. Angus leaned against a tree, wielding a branch as a sword.

I scoffed, walking up to him. He gazed down at me in amusement. A grin covered his face. A grin that royally pissed me off. I shouldn't have taken it so seriously; but the rage inside of me, which was previously set to simmer, was now boiling; and Angus Tully was stirring the pot.

"I could ask the same about you, asshole. Did your family wish upon a star for you to go away?" I spat. His amusement shrunk, turning into a nasty frown.

"Hey, guys."

The both of us turned around, facing a chirpy and oblivious Jason. He flashed a smile at me.

"Hi!" I shoved Angus with my shoulder as I trudged through the snow to the jock. "Jason, is it?"

From behind, in a small mocking tone, Angus whispered, "Jason, is it?" He didn't know when to stop, did he?

"Do you want to play football with me?" Jason patted the ball in his hand, handing it out to me.

"Sure!" I nodded excitedly.

"Do you even know how to play?" Angus muttered. He had a permanent sour scowl on his face.

"You don't have to project your inabilities, Tully." I flashed a fake smile. "Or, would you like to join us?"

He crossed his arms. His nose was red, making him look like an extremely unhappy Rudolph.

"I'm fine." He mumbled, turning his back to us and walking over to the younger boys.

Needless to say, I was confused. We would have playful fights, yeah. But, this wasn't playful at all. I almost felt bad for him. Jealous, much?

We weren't official. I wasn't even sure if he knew we had a thing going on. Either way, it just wasn't time for anything serious. Jason was sweet and dumb enough for a quick dose of validation.

For the rest of the time spent outside, Jason and I passed the football around. He was fun and extremely hot. I mean, he was the type of attractive that turned Wickline Academy into a slip n' slide. But other than that, we had nothing in common. He was this flamboyant display of brawn and I found spelling bees fun. Every so often, I'd catch Angus staring at us from the other side of the courtyard.

Soon enough, Hunham called everyone in for dinner. We were actually allowed to sit beside each other. It felt like an awkward family dinner. Except we weren't family. So, it was more awkward.

Jason was already sat, so I decided to take my opportunity and sit beside him. He was chatting it up with one of the other Wickline girls. I huffed, slouching in my seat.

"Is this seat taken?" A familiar deep voice spoke from my left. Oh, great.

Angus hunched down, pulling the chair out and sitting himself down. He had a mischievous smirk plastered on his face. He leaned close to me, an uninterested look on his face. I could feel his breath on my cheek.

"What's wrong, princess?" He licked his chapped lips.

"You're here. I'd rather have a block of coal." I grunted.

Angus narrowed his eyes at me, before fluttering his lashes. He held his hand to his heart, "You flatter me."

I stuck my tongue out at him, toying with the napkin in front of me.

"So, Jason? Really?" He whispered inconspicuously. Mary set plates on the table, earning a small 'thank you' from him. "Didn't know you could stoop so low."

"I liked you, didn't I."

"Liked?"

His brows raised, a shocked expression on his face. All his wittiness had vanished in the blip of a moment. He averted his gaze to his plate of food. His curls hung over his face.

Of course, I didn't mean that. But he didn't know that.

I opened my mouth to speak, but at that point Hunham slammed the table for something Kountz had said.

For the rest of the dinner I kept my eye on him, he would poke and nudge his food with his fork but never actually take a bite. We didn't talk for the rest of the day.

The following morning everyone joined Jason on his family trip. My dad wasn't too keen on the idea of me spending an entire holiday with boys.

In the end, it was me and Tully. It was weird between us. The days were quiet. There were many times that I tried to apologize, but he would always run off or turn away every moment I tried.

I was sat in the kitchen with Mary Lamb, helping her bake brownies for a Christmas party. I mixed the dry ingredients, gritting my teeth as I thought about everything. It felt like my world was crumbling.

"You alright there, sweetie?" Mary questioned. She was cutting potatoes for the next day's dinner.

I groaned.

"Everything sucks. This wasn't where I planned to be. I didn't plan to be here today or to be in this stupid black hole that my life is." I whisked angrily. Some of the mixture spilled over the side of the bowl.

"Some of this gotta' do with that Tully boy?" She whistled. "I've seen the way y'all act."

I blushed slightly, "Yeah. I guess-. . . I said something i didn't mean. But, I don't get why he's so upset. We don't have anything real going on between us."

"Do you want something real?" Mary put down her knife. I poured the mix into a pan.

Do I want something real with Angus? In the last two years, I hardly learned much about him. We had covered up any real connection under flashy and casually insulting romance.

What had I learned about him? He is Angus. He's a pinch too loud in a quiet room. He walks like a newborn giraffe. He manages to piss everyone off in a 2 mile radius.

But with every taunt and quip he'd deliver, there was that toothy grin accompanying it. There were small moments where he would help the underclassmen with their assignments; and he always found time to find me.

I hadn't even given him a chance of thought. Dread filled my heart, overflowing into my veins like a dam had just broke.

"Would he even want anything?" I leaned on the palm of my hand, glancing outside the window. The snowfall landed softly on the windowsill. It reminded me of the first time he walked up to me.

.

.

.

"Is there any alcohol in this?" A boy with shaggy brown hair pointed. His pants were too short, as if he had just had a growth spurt overnight.

"Does fruit punch fuel your system?" I offered a cup. My nails were coated with pastel polish.

"I'm more of an apple juice kinda guy." He tugged on his loose tie. "I'm Angus."

"I'm Y/N".

"Do you wanna smoke a cigarette behind the bleachers?" The kid asked.

"I don't have a jacket." We looked outside the window. It was evening. The snowfall was heavy. We could hardly see past the courtyard.

"Take mine." He shrugged his jacket off, holding it in his trembling hands. His brown eyes were completely widened in awe. I took the jacket from his grasp, putting it on.

"Thanks Angus!" I chirped. "Come on, before they notice we're gone."

I grabbed his hand, interlocking our fingers. His hands were cold and clammy. But, funnily enough, so were mine. We ran outside, hiding under the bleachers as we joked about our classmates.

.

.

.

"Baby, all I know is he's going through as much as you are right now. You'll never know unless you try."

Mary's voice lingered in my head as I got dressed for the party. She was right. I had lost so much control in the last 3 months of my life. I was not going to let this pass me by. I was going to spite my way into Angus's heart.

In the car, Angus fought to sit in the passenger seat. Ultimately, Mary glared at him with such authority he cowered and clamored into the backseat with me. Instantly, he folded his arms and turned to look out the window.

Okay, this is fine? This is fine. I'll just sneak him aside at the party and fix this. I didn't want Hunham and Mary awkwardly listening in while I confessed my undying admiration for him.

We were greeted at the door by Miss Crane. She welcomed us happily. I looked around. This place was packed. Christmas music flew around the house like a jolly paper airplane.

"Y/N, can you take these to the kitchen please?" Miss Crane gave me the brownies we had baked. I glanced at Angus, who already looked out of place.

"Sure!" My lips pressed together into a thin line. I hurried over, having to pause for houseguests to step aside and move out of the way. This place was a goddamn maze. My forearms grew sore as I searched aimlessly. Then, like a glowing light at the end of the tunnel, I saw the kitchen. I practically threw the platter onto the counter.

When I returned back to the door, everyone was gone. How hard could it be to find a 6-foot tall teenager? I scooched and muttered 'excuse me' way too many times to count. After some asking around, I had made my way to the basement.

There were kids coloring and gluing crafts on a big round table. Others run around with plastic wands and swords. I was nearly stabbed by one of the children. Then I saw something I wish I didn't have to see.

Angus and a brunette locked lips in a corner of the basement. I completely and utterly froze. The dread that had consumed me earlier had solidified and left me still like a heartbroken fossil. They leaned away, and the girl caught my eye.

"Oh, hello! I'll be right with you!" She chirped. She had a blush on her face. My blood boiled. Angus's head whipped around. His eyes widened. He analyzed my face for any sign of a reaction. I closed my eyes and took a composing breath. I whipped around, stepping back up the stairs.

"Y/N! Give me one second." His steps boomed up the stairs behind me. "Come on, slow down."

I stepped out into the cold night. I tried to slam the front door behind me, but Angus shoved his foot between the gap.

"Ow. Really?" He mumbled. He grabbed my arms and stopped me in my tracks. "Y/N. Please."

I kept my back to him. I couldn't look at him. Would his face have that same blush she had? Would his lips be pink? Would he look happy? He sighed, jogging in front of me. He towered over me, a concerned look on his face. He looked almost devastated.

"What's wrong?" He mumbled.

"What's wrong?" I repeated, raising my voice. "You were sucking the life force out of that girl!"

"You're overreacting." He flung his arms in the air. Angus chewed on his lip anxiously. "Plus, last time I checked, why should you care? You were getting real cozy with Jason."

"That wasn't anything." I scoffed.

"Were we anything?" He whispered. His eyes had reddened, tears threatening to stream out.

"What?"

"You said you liked me." Angus whimpered. "What happened? Did I do something?"

"No." I blurted. "You did nothing. I-. . . I was just angry, Angus. I didn't mean that."

He stayed silent. The snow got caught on his curls. He looked more gorgeous than ever. It felt like we had snuck out to the bleachers all over again. Fuck it.

"Jesus, Angus. We have to stop being complete fucking idiots." I covered my face and groaned into my hands. "It's not a surprise that I like you. You think I would still be talking to you after 2 years if I didn't absolutely fucking adore you? I'm angry that everyone else is leaving me and I don't want you to either. I don't want you to disappear. I need you. I've needed you ever since we smoked together for the first time. I was just too fucking dumb to realize it. I need you to realize it too. I need you to realize Jason has nothing to offer me. "

His eyebrows raised slowly. I stared at him with wide eyes as I caught my breath.

"Was that weird? I'm sorry if-"

Angus cut me off by crashing his lips into mine. He had cold lips, but the feeling it gave me sent warmth throughout my body. His arms wrapped around my waist as we stumbled backwards. My back thudded against a wall as Angus pushed closer against me. I tangled my fingers into his hair, pulling the strands of hair slightly for any sense of stimulation. His chest pressed against mine and I could hardly breathe. But neither of us pulled away. He pushed his tongue into my mouth with fervor. Little grunts escaped his lips.

The slam of the front door pushed us away from each other. A guest waved goodbye to whoever was on the porch, oblivious to our raunchy escapade. Our gazes flicked back to each other. We both had that 'deer in headlights' look. The two of us burst into laughter. Angus threw his head back cackling.

"Seems like you had a practice." I remarked.

"Shut up."

"Too soon?" I grimaced. He nodded. His hands traveled up to my face, caressing my cheeks. His fingers were crusted over with a green pigment. "Why the fuck are your fingers covered in paint?"

"Oh shit, sorry. Fingerpainting." Angus pulled his hands back, stuffing them into his pockets. His lips were red and slightly wet.

"I have one question." I prodded.

"Hm?"

"Do you like me?"

Angus rolled his eyes, "I just sucked the complete life force out of you. When are you gonna stop being a complete idiot and realize I like you?"

"Touché." I smiled. A heartwarming smile covered his face. He leaned forward, planting a small peck on my forehead, before resting his chin on my head.

I wrapped my arms around his torso. Once again, that familiar memory popped into my head. I felt the same warmth from 2 years ago. This time it wasn't a cigarette. It was Angus. And suddenly it all felt worth it. Every bit of anger. Every bit of sass. Every bit of jealousy.

"So, are you gonna kiss me some more or do I need to get you a brain for Christmas, scarecrow?"

"So needy, princess."

[calypsocolada]

9:15 A.M. | k. nanami

synopsis: a handsome man is very puctual at the coffee shop you work at. authors note: hi! in celebration of the upcoming shibuya arc (sadface, here's a lil fluff, might write a part two if the spirit posseses me. cw: fluff wc: 1.8k

--------------------------------------------------------

There was a man that came into your work almost everyday at exactly 9:15 a.m. He was never late, at least not on the days you worked. He was polite but never smiled and tipped you very well for someone only spending five dollars on a black coffee. You didn’t know his name, you thought it might be weird to ask. But he was tall, styled blond hair, sharp features and impeccably tailored suits. Which was why you called him suit. It wasn’t clever you knew that but it was the first thing you thought of and it caught on with you coworkers. 

You liked seeing him, it helped that he was incredibly handsome, like one of those business men in romance movies, the ones that act cold but have secretly big hearts. 

Sometimes you find yourself wondering about him. Was he married? It wouldn’t surprise you if he was. You also wondered what he did, did he sit at a desk all day, bossing around a bunch of college aged interns? He had to be the boss. The way he dressed, his impossible seriousness, you could see him running a stressed hand down his face after a long day, or through his styled hair, messing it up. His hand coming up to loosen his tie with deft fingers, leaning back in his expensive leather chair, exhausted. 

“Earth to Y/n,” Your co-worker snapped her fingers in front of your face. You blinked a few times, shaking your head as if coming out of a dream.

“Yes, sorry, I’m listening.” You said apologetically. 

“I was just wondering if you felt any better? Someone told me you called off yesterday.”

“I feel better.” You say with a smile. You had a migraine that kept you up the night before last, it wasn’t a big deal but you didn’t want to deal with snappy customers yesterday. 

“That’s good.” Your co-worker smiles as the front door bell chimes, indicating a customer. Your eyes glance at the door and you see him. You glance at the clock. Right on time. “Your favorite customers here.” Your co-worker teases in a low whisper as you shoot her a quick glare. Suit approaches the counter as your eyes meet and your face lights up in a smile. 

“Good morning, the usual?” You ask as the man purses his lips slightly giving you a nod. You push off the counter, spinning around to make his order. “It’s nice outside today,” You say over your shoulder. You always tried talking with him but he didn’t say much, he seemed very mysterious, that or maybe he wasn’t a morning person.

“It is.” He says and you hear him pulling out some cash from his wallet. Sliding a lid on his coffee you turned back around to hand it to him. He reached for it, his fingers brushing yours. “Are you feeling any better?” He asked and your eyes snapped up to his. 

“Hmm?”

“Your co-worker,” He started. “She told me you were out sick yesterday.” He said and for a moment you're stunned, you're not sure you’ve ever heard  more than two words from this man and it has been months that he’s come in here. 

“Oh that,” You wave your hand. “Bad migraine.” You say and he looks at you and nods.

“Drinking plenty of water then?” He asks and you laugh softly. 

“You sound like my father.” You joke and see the corner of his mouth quirk up, he breathes out a small laugh. Your brows raise at the sound, stunned at this entire little conversation.

“I’m glad you feel better.” He says warmly as he hands you the money. 

“Thank you.” You smile, putting the cash into the register and handing him the change. 

“That’s your tip. Keep it.” He says, tilting the cup to you before turning. You pause to watch him leave and when he disappears past the windows you look down at your hand. 

“Did he just give you a forty five dollar tip?” Your co-worker chirps behind you, you startle at her voice, breathing out a laugh. 

“He sure did.” You answer, sticking the money into your aprons pocket. 

“He’s not married by the way.” She says as you turn to face her. 

“What?”

“Suit’s not married. He doesn’t have a ring.” She points out.

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Well if he was and I was his wife I would divorce his ass because the way he looks at you should be considered an emotional affair.” You blush to your toes at that comment, turning from her as you roll your eyes.

“Come on, no he doesn’t.”

“He does. Not to mention he asked about you yesterday, that’s why I told him you were out sick.”

“Liar, he did not.” You argue.

“He totally did! He looked worried for you too.” She jests as you slap her arm slightly. “You know what he tipped me yesterday?”

“What?”

“2 dollars! He usually gives you ten.” She pouts as you start laughing. “He totally has a crush on you.”

“A crush? Stop… He doesn’t. He’s just nice.”

“Yeah he wants to be really nice to you up against a wall maybe.” She says as you press your hands over your face in embarrassment. 

“Go away.”

“Ask him out. I dare you.” She pushes.

“No! I don't want to make him uncomfortable.”

“Trust me, he won’t be.” 

“No.”

“Come on! Live a little. When’s the last time you went on a date anyways?” She asks and you think genuinely about it. It had been months, maybe even closer to a year. “I know you find him attractive, you probably want to-”

“Don’t finish that sentence.” You interrupted, sliding into the stool right by the counter. 

“Ask him out or I’ll do it for you.” She says and you stare at her hard.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

But she totally would, which is why you find yourself incredibly nervous the next day as you watch the minutes tick by. 9:13. You blew out a nervous breath, tapping your pen against the counter. 

The worst he could do is say no but nevertheless it was still completely nerve wracking. You could barely sleep the night before. You put your shoes on the wrong feet and accidentally wore your jacket inside out, then you missed your bus and had to jog to work. It had already been a long day and you’d only been here for just over an hour. 

The door chimed. 9:15. Damn, the one day you wished maybe he wasn’t so punctual. When you looked up your breath caught. He wasn’t in his usual suit and tie. He was in gray sweatpants and a tight black shirt with what you were assuming was his college’s name across his chest, not to mention his hair wasn’t styled back, it was falling onto his forehead. You let out a breath you were holding in, your throat dry as you forced a smile and hoped you didn’t look like a maniac. 

“Morning,” You greeted. 

“Morning,” He said back, giving you a warm smile. A smile! He never smiles. You are momentarily taken back by the smile as he approaches the counter. 

“Were you out for a run?” You croaked out as he nodded his head, his hand coming up to run his hand through his hair, his shirt riding up slightly exposing a very toned stomach. You forced your eyes up, a blush coming to your cheeks. “Your usual?” You ask. 

“What would you recommend instead?” He asks and your brain stutters. 

“Me?” You ask and his mouth quirks up. He looked entirely too handsome. 

“Uh huh.”

“Uh-- I don’t-- Maybe, uh-” You stutter, feeling like a fool but he doesn’t cut in or look impatient. “I don’t really drink coffee.” You say and he tilts his head, his hair falling on his forehead slightly.

“Tea?” He asks and you nod your head. “I’ll take your favorite then.” He says, reaching into the pocket of his sweats to fish out his wallet. 

“Okay, coming right up.” You try not to sound nervous as you turn, working quickly. It seems like today really isn’t your day, you burn your hand as you fix him the tea and drop the glass, cursing in pain. You turn to grab ice.

“Did you burn yourself?” He asks, voice concerned. 

“I’m sorry, your drink will be right out.” You say as he smoothly walks around the counter. 

“Not worried about that right now.” He takes the ice from your hand. “May I see?” He asks, he’s so tall up close, and he smells like pine even though he should smell like sweat. You nod your head as his fingers gently turn your hand so he can see the burn. He turns on the faucet. “Ice won’t do the trick, you need cool or lukewarm water.” He says, feeling the water before gently pulling your hand under it. You're both so close, his arm brushes against your shoulder.

“Am I gonna live, doc?” You ask as the man laughs, you made him laugh twice now and each time it stutters your heart. He looks good serious but even fucking better when laughing and smiling. 

“I think you’ll live.” He says. 

You wrap up your hand and finish making him the tea, this time carefully without injuring yourself. You slide it to him across the counter and he picks it up. 

“It’s green.”

“It’s matcha.” You smile, watching him pull the cup to his lips, taking a slow careful sip. He lets it ruminate before humming slightly. 

“Mhm, it’s good.” He says and a giant smile slides on your lips. 

“You like it?” You ask.

“I do. I should’ve asked your favorite a long time ago.” He says, pulling out money.

“Oh, you don’t have to pay, it’s on me.” You say but that doesn’t stop him.

“I insist.” He says, pulling out a one hundred dollar bill.

“Please, after helping with my hand it’s my treat.” You say but he hands it to you anyways. 

“Well, consider that my tip then.” He says. “That’s too much, sir, I can’t,” You start. “It’s Nanami.” He says and you realize that he’s told you his name. He’s known yours this entire time due to your name tag.

“You're too kind,” You say, sliding the money back to him. “I’d feel like I’m robbing you.” He doesn’t make any move to grab the money, just takes another sip of his matcha.

“It’s hardly robbing if I’m giving it to you.” He says with another warm laugh.

“I can’t take it. I’m sorry.” You say, and he nods his head.

“How about a date then?” He says and you snap your eyes up to him. He has that serious look about him again.

“A date?”

“Mhm.” He nods.

“You and me?”

“Ideally.” He smirks and your entire body blushes. You wondered where all this confidence came from, but honestly it didn’t matter. You liked it. 

“I get off at 8.” You say and you see his cheeks blush as he smiles at you. 

“I’ll pick you up then.” 

[lovexjoe]

In Love With A Stripper Part 2

warning: alcohol, mention of death and language

Armando pulls the car to the back, taking in her attire: he smiles on the inside. She looks beautiful like this, not that bullshit she’s forced to wear. He gets out and opens the door for her. Thanking him, she mentally gives out one more prayer that this man isn’t going to kill her and hops in.

She was shocked cause she could never imagine being in a car like this, it would take her a lifetime to even buy this. The ride was silent, as she looks out the window taking in the scenery of Mexicos city lights. She’s been here on this side of town before with Andres, but she just couldn’t remember exactly. His right hand reaches for hers, she could have sworn her heart skipped a beat. His hand much larger than hers, engulfed her small one with warmth. She intertwine their fingers together and he rubs her hand with his thumb.

She’s really in the car with a drug dealer who could potentially make her disappear off the face of the earth. Yet she felt the most safest in his presence. The car pulls into a gated mansion, he spoke to the gate to confirm his ID and they headed inside.

“Do you trust me?” He looks over at her and she looks back not saying a word. Just looking at him with those doe eyes. She gives his hand a squeeze confirm that she’s okay but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer so easily. He hands his key off to a guard, opening her door for her and leading the way up the stairs. This is where he lives?! Why not just stop drug dealing and retire? He is set for fucking life. This could have potentially been her life with Andres if he was connected with the right people. She pushes the thought away cause it’ll only sour the mood.

They entered his bedroom and it was exactly the way she thought it was gonna be. Crispy clean and all black. There wasn’t a single spect of color in this room: dark and depressing. They sit outside on his balcony enjoying the city lights as they pour up a drink. He breaks the silence first.

“What’s your name?”

“You know my name…..Luna.” She takes a sip of her drink. The mixture of rum and coke easing her nerves.

“Nah that’s not you mami. The real you.” He turns his body to her, giving her all his attention. Her eyes could easily captivate someone yet here she was feeling hot and shy under his gaze.

“Xiomara…” she sips her drink again, numbing her nerves.

“Es bonita, mami” he says giving her a smile, first one of the night and it took all her suspicions away.

“He smiles! So you’re not gonna kill me, thank god!” She puts her hand on her heart and lets out a joking breath. For the first time in a long time he lets out an honest laugh. He’s never brought anyone back home, he’s always had his fun outside and returned to his empty room. But her, for some reason he wants to do things to her but he wanted more. But he can’t want more. This was for one night he reminded himself.

“Tell me about yourself” She takes in his question, wondering if she should be an open book or pick out things that were true and fill the rest in with white lies. She probably wasn’t going to see him ever again so why not?

“I came here two years ago with my boyfriend, he was a drug dealer. I didn’t know much but he had food on the table and we were gonna build a life here. He got killed during a deal gone bad and I-I had to verify the body at the scene because his mom couldn’t go….” She takes another sip. The alcohol causing her mouth to vent all the feelings she’s been holding in for a year now.

“A month after Andres passing I found out I was pregnant. It would have probably been smarter to just not continue with the pregnancy but he’s the last thing I have letting me know that Andres was real. Things have been hard so I strip to save pay the bills and my day job helps me save” Armando’s jaw clenched at the mention of her late boyfriend’s name.

“I’m sorry that you’re going through this.”

“Don’t do that….dont pity me. It sucks but there’s someone out there having it much worse than me.” He nods his head raising his glass to cheers to that.

“Tell me about you….or whatever you’re comfortable with.”

Just one night right? He wasn’t going to see her again and it’s not like anyone would believe her anyway.

“My mom’s in prison right now. She gave birth to me in prison, I was raised there till I was 6 and then they sent me off with someone to the cartel. Here I am….” He sighs and gulps the rest of his drink.

“See? I told you somebody else has it worse than me. Thank you for that.” Laughter filled the room, she notices the crinkle in his eyes when he smiles. He looked much younger when he let some happiness enter his empty heart.

“Armando? Why am I here? If you wanted to have sex…we cou-“

She stops talking when he stands up pulling her close, his hand caressing her cheek. She doesn’t know what he wants. He knows what he wants but he’s not going to admit because it’s insane. They just met.

“I can tell that this isn’t something you do. And after hearing what you been through…I want you but I’m not touching you until you beg me to….” The way he’s looking at her like he wants to devour her, she so badly wants to give in. He picks her up and carries her to his bed. She sits at the edge of his bed while he picks out some clothes for her.

Yes Armando Aretas a fucking cartel is picking out clothes for a stripper he’s beyond fond of. Boy would his mom be having a fit if she could see this. She changes in the bathroom, looking at herself in the mirror and smiling. He’s definitely not what she thought he would be. She leans her head down to the black shirt, taking in his divine scent. Once she reenters the room, Tom and Jerry reruns were on the tv and he looked too cute under the covers.

Shirtless…..

How was she going to control herself? She had to or else she would look to easy. She can’t and she won’t!

She got in bed, keeping a certain distance between them. His hand trailing across her exposed skin on her inner thigh. She looked better in his clothing than he did.

“I don’t bite mami, come here” he pulls her close, his hand slipping under the shirt and resting on her stomach. He places a kiss on her temple as they both watched the tv till they fell asleep.

~~~~~~~

The sun creeps through his window, causing Xio to walk up in bed alone. The tv still running some outdated cartoons. Her bedside had roses and a letter.

“I had some business to take care of. There’s a driver and duffel bag waiting for you. I will see you soon - Love Armando”

She heads into the restroom and where she had a brand new toothbrush and a toiletry bag filled with products: expensive ones too waiting for her. This man really had everything accessible for him. She started to wonder how many girls he did this for. Looking at her phone, she realizes she doesn’t have time to wait around as she needs to grab Ricky from his grandma’s. She hurries up changing into her clothes from last night and heading downstairs. Did she keep his shirt? Yup, something to remember him in case she doesn’t hear from him again.

The driver hands her the small duffel bag and she gets into the car and giving him directions to her house. Reminiscing about the little commentary they had while watching looney tunes. How it felt being held by him all night. This was it for them. She doesn’t think he’ll reach out. He knows where she works but….maybe she’s just overthinking.

Andres’ mom sent her a message letting her know that she will stay with Ricky today if she wanted some time to herself. She sighs with relief, she could use a few hours to rejuvenate since she’s teaching again tomorrow. As the driver drops her off, she strolls inside and setting the bag down. She took a look inside and

Wow….she had enough money to stop stripping for a while….

The bag had a small pocket on the side so she decided to open it and what she noticed wasn’t something she was happy about.

She lets out a cry….

She pulls out Andres cross necklace …..

Taglist: @yeahnohoneybye @cardi-bre91 @onlysarang @romanreignsluver1 @minwn

@armandosbabymama @dyttomori @bbyplutosblog @vergilnelosparda @believeinthefireflies95 @cardi-bre91

[carolb111]

Weeks went by without a single word from Gojo. You were slowly becoming yourself again. Going out places with your friends, moving into a new apartment, and trying to move on from the heartbreak that kept plaguing your mind. Until all of your hard work of trying to forget what happened was useless when someone showed up at your doorstep at 2 in the morning.

You were just laying in bed scrolling on your phone when someone was pounding on your door. Being really confused you go and walk in the kitchen to see whos knocking. You check your peephole first to see who it was (cause youre not a dumbass) and you see the person you least expected. Gojo fucking Satoru.

He looked like he hadn’t slept for weeks.

Eyes tired and hair a mess. It almost made you feel bad for him.

But you obviously didn’t  I mean how could you he broke your heart and disappeared off the face of the earth for almost 2 months. Deleting all of his social media and stopped going to the places he would regularly frequent. 

Standing awkwardly in the doorway of your new apartment you shuffle to the side to let him in. “You can have a seat on the couch I guess.” You say tiredly, He walks slowly towards your living room, almost seeming ashamed that he’s hurting you further by showing up so late at night.

You follow him before sitting on your couch. 

 “Do you need something? I think I left everything that was yours at your apartment I just took everything that was mine.” You say confusedly wondering what in the hell anyone would need at 2 in the morning. Especially after everything that happened, you’d assume whatever he needed back from you he could buy another one. 

“No thats not what I came here for” He said, still keeping what his intentions were hidden from you. “I came here to apologize for everything that happened. It was never my intention to hurt you as much as I did.” You could tell from the tone of his voice that he really meant what he was saying. He’s never tried to hide what he felt from you. Maybe thats the reason you fell so hard for him. But that love didn’t stop him from leaving you behind. Thats the reason the resentment in your heart can’t let you forgive him. He took everything from you.

“I can’t forgive you.” Was the only words you could say without screaming and crying why he did everything that he did to you with no resistance. And wordlessly he got up from his seat on the couch and left your apartment for the second time. But this time you were convinced he wouldn’t come back to you.

Part 1 Carols note: omfg im SOOO SORRY this didnt make it out of my notes app for so long i was having MAJOR writers block but i swear ur getting more soon!!

taglist: @dereoma @dereonana @nxgiswife @tqd4455 @eidalover @pinkbunnysblog @painted-hills @karmcrim15 @sillyfreakfanparty @tojipie @kahtherinee

i love all of u for being so excited for this mwah mwah and i tagged some of my moots cause why not😭😭 bye byeeee

[darlingshane]

Salt of the Earth ~ Part 1

Pairing: Michael Berzatto x OFC

Summary: She was Carmy's best friend growing up, and Michael never looked at her as anything other than that until years later when she comes back to Chicago to start over. In the process, she turns his sorry excuse of a life upside down.

Content/Warnings: Friends to lovers, Fluff, Angst, Family Drama, Dysfunctional relationships, Implied/referenced drug addiction, Alcohol mention, Divorce, Pets, Pet names, Dialogue heavy. Undisclosed age gap (in my mind Michael is late 30s and OC is late 20s, but it's really up to your interpretation).

Word Count: 6.8k // 4 chapters // AO3 link.

A/N: This is set in the year of the Fishes episode on season 2. It starts in summer and slowly builds up to that Christmas.

— This was an anon request that I got a few months ago, I hope you're still around. I tried to fit all the ideas you sent as best I could. There's a bit of info dump on the first chapter, but I hope it isn't too off-putting.

Chapter 1: Best thing since sliced bread

Seconds stretch into minutes, minutes elongate into long hours on slow days like this at The Beef. Especially in summer when the air conditioner stops working for the second time in the middle of August. Any living soul that crosses that door must have a dying wish or be the devil themselves to adventure themselves to what has become Michael's personal hell.

It's been a testing year, and there's so much he can do to fix this place right now. While he waits for Fak to come check the damn AC unit, Michael tends the front while Ebra takes his lunch break.

Turning the paper's pages on the counter, he comes across an article about the extensive fires eating different parts of the country. A wretched thought crosses his mind as he reads – maybe it'd be better to burn this place to the ground and start over. He entertains the idea for a second until the door swings open, inviting more heat into the boiling pot.

He lifts his eyes from the words to find a familiar face approaching the counter. It's not Fak, but a much better vision of someone he used to know.

“Mayhem Maya.”

“Magic Mikey.”

That former thought of burning down this place disappears somewhere in the midst of that beautiful aura that saunters with her big brown eyes, long raven hair, nervous smile, and firm steps.

“It's been a while, Maybird.” Almost ten years since she set foot in this establishment. “What brings you to this hole in the wall?”

“Came to collect that meatball sub you promised at uncle Teddy's funeral, remember?”

“Oh, right.”

Ever since she moved to a different state, he only had seen her a handful of times when she came back for the holidays. Last time he saw her was at the beginning of spring, when her uncle, Ted Silva, passed away.

“I also had an interview at the new vet clinic on the next block.” She places her cross-body bag on an empty stool while she perches her ass on the one next to it.

“How's that going? Did you get tired of California already?”

“No, I love California. But I needed a change of scenery. It's been rough after… you know…” the divorce. She wasn't married for long, but she still can't bring herself to say the word.

“I’ve heard some of it.” He’s pretty much aware of how everything went down. Well, he’s got grapevine’s juicy version of the story, but he never heard her side directly.

Though Michael and Maya know each other as if they were related, they were never close confidants. She always thought he was the coolest guy in Chicago. And he always thought fondly of her, given their families association, and Maya’s close friendship with his brother.

Michael places an order for her sandwich and grabs a soda for her, while she explains she has two more job interviews later.

“Does your mother know you're back?” He folds the paper and props his elbows on the counter.

“She probably does.”

“Still not talking, huh?”

“It's not my fault she made me the black sheep of the family. She’s like vitriol on steroids.”

“Yeah? What happened at the wake? You left before I could say goodbye.”

Michael recalls the tension at the funeral, particularly at the wake when Angela Silva grabbed Maya by the elbow and took her youngest daughter outside the house as if she was still a child that needed to be scolded.

“Nothing. I barely said a word that day. Guess everything I do feels like a personal attack to her. I can admit that I'm not perfect, and that sometimes I've acted up just to get a reaction out of her, but that day she just went off again…” She pauses without finishing that thought to take a refreshing sip of her coke. “And that wasn't nearly as bad as the day I told her I was getting…”

“Divorced? Why can't you say the word? It's not Voldemort.”

“What the hell do you know about Voldemort?”

“How do I… Who took you and Carmy to buy those damn books? Have you forgotten?” Maya shakes her head. “You even tried many times invoking his name, so I was haunted by eaters or something like that. You two were real potterheads.”

“And you were just a pothead,” she laughs, stirring the ice cubes in her drink with a straw. “I totally blocked that out. We were just a couple of nerds.”

“I’d say!”

“Meatball sub!” Richie calls from the pass-through window and takes a second look when catching Maya in the joint. “Maya Papaya?!”

“Please, don’t call me that.” She scoffs while Richie promptly abandons the kitchen and goes around the counter to give her a welcoming hug.

“Did you know she was coming?” He asks Michael, as he props his ass on the bar.

“Had no idea. She just showed up.”

“Did you tell her about Carmy?”

“What about him?”

“He’s in Copenhagen.”

“Oh, I knew about that.”

“You two talk often?”

“Sometimes, I guess.” Barely more likely. They don't even text anymore. She's tried but there's been nothing but crickets at his end for months.

While Richie grills her about Carmy and what she’s been up to, Michael can’t help but look around the shop to notice, from every corner and wall, memories bouncing all at once in his direction. It takes him back in time to those days when she and Carmy were as thick as thieves.

Their shared history goes back to that same street their families have lived on for over thirty years… It’s still clear in his mind, like it was yesterday, when he was forced to babysit them when they wanted to go to the movies or trick-or-treating or the bookstore. That was a little annoying back then, now he fondly remembers all those times in summer, when they’d go to the convenience store to get ice pops on their bikes. Then they’d ride back and sit in the middle of the swanky rug in their living room and watch TV for hours. More than once they were yelled at by Mama Berzatto when she would come home to find melted colorful stains in the fabric. She would lose her shit. Carmy was used to it. Maya wasn’t, but the girl never flinched once cause Donna and her own mother were cut from the same unstable piece of cloth.

Maya and Carmy were really close up until they went separate ways for college. Their bond was something to admire. They had something so special that inevitably, Carmy fell in love with her. She was his best friend and confident. They kept each other's secrets, and Carmy thought she'd feel the same in return. It wasn't a crazy notion. They spent so much time together, everyone thought it'd lead to something more, but that never happened.

Mikey and Richie used to tease the youngest cub relentlessly. They tried multiple times to encourage him to ask her out, but he never found the guts to do it. Especially if it could potentially end their friendship. Carmy didn't want to lose that. Though he never confessed his feelings, Maya always knew. Even in her teens, call it a woman’s intuition, part of her already knew. Maya wished she'd felt the same toward him, but the heart wants what it wants, and she couldn't change that.

What was really fucked up was that she had the most ridiculous crush on the older Berzatto when she was a teen. While she knew he'd never look at her as anything other than Carmy's annoying little friend, that didn't stop her from daydreaming about it for years. It was a secret that no one ever knew and that was placed in a drawer at the back of her mind after she left Chicago.

After graduating, Maya and Carmy stayed in touch for a long time, until their calls and texts became less frequent. They followed different dreams that required a lot of attention and sadly their friendship got hurt in the process.

While she attended Vet School on the west coast, he became a chef on the east.

Maya thrived at school and work. She really went out on her own, and became the woman she always wanted to be. Unsheltered, confident, outspoken. She outgrew her shell and opened herself to new experiences and people. She loved it all. It wasn’t smooth sailing, but for the most part she was pretty happy with her choices.

And now she's back in Chicago, set on a new path and awaiting to see where it takes her.

She’s living in a house in Oak Park with her dog, Coco; Richie fishes out of her. Apparently, she got some money from uncle Teddy, and she’s invested it in a home for her and her beloved staffy.

“Does Carmy know you’re here?” Richie circles back.

“No, I haven't talked to him in months.”

“Why? Did you two have a fall-out or something?”

“There's no why. We're just busy.”

“Mike, help me out here. Weren’t these two fools supposed to get married?”

“Yeah, everyone thought you'd ended up together.”

“Man, I don't know what to tell you, we just didn't,” her head sinks between her shoulders.

“Just get over yourself and hit him up. The kid has been hung up on you since forever. It looks like things didn’t go so well with your marriage and all. You should take that as a sign, you’d never find anyone better than Carmy. The boy could really use some excitement in his life. And so could you.”

“C’mon, leave her alone. Go back to work, Cousin.”

Michael throws her a lifeline, noticing how miserable she looks every time Richie opens his unfiltered mouth.

“He’s not wrong, you know? You and Carmy… it looked like you two had something special.” Michael offers once Richie is back in the kitchen.

“It’s called friendship. You should look it up.” She points out.

“I have Richie.”

“Exactly. You have Richie. Why don't you two marry the other and leave me alone? If you think about it, you were as close to Richie as I was with Carmy. Even more. Should everyone assume you are in love with him? Cause that's what you're implying.”

“Touché. I'll drop it.”

“Look, as hard as it is to believe, there was nothing else between us. I was aware he felt something for me, but I didn’t feel the same.”

“You should give him a chance sometime. He might surprise you.”

It’s not the first time these two have been trying to play matchmaker between Maya and Carmy, and it’s bizarre to see they still do at any given opportunity.

“Okay, if I give Carmy a chance, you have to give Richie a chance. Those are the rules, Berzatto.”

“Oh, I've tried. He's not into me,” he remarks, amused, and leans closer to confess something in a lower voice. “Do you wanna know a secret?”

“Uh, sure.”

“He and Tiffany are having a baby. He just told me a few days ago.”

“What? You let him reproduce? I'll pray for Tiff.”

Chapter 2: Cool as a cucumber

Everything falls slowly into place as Maya settles back in Chicago. She secures the job at the clinic near The Beef, which is a huge relief after her rushed decision of moving back to her hometown without securing a job first. It was part of the plan all along to practice what she loves but never thought this would be the year. As much as she loved California, once her divorce was finalized she felt like something was trapping her there. And the money she got from her uncle gave her some leeway to improvise, get away from all that, and start over.

Maya is spending her morning going through the stack of unpacked boxes, finding a good place for everything, making it feel more homey. It's not a big house, but spacious enough for the two of them. The big selling point was the backyard for Coco to zoom around and cool down in her wading pool, which she loves. It didn't take long for the five-year-old pup to get used to her new neighborhood. They've even made a couple of friends at the park nearby.

A moment before the doorbell rings, Coco whines from her spot by the window, where she often sits to watch passers in the street.

“Who is it?” Maya playfully asks her dog as she makes her way to the front door.

Through the peephole, she sees Michael's profile as he inspects the porch.

“Hi,” her eyes widen as she opens the door. “Didn't know you were coming.”

“Yeah, I would've called, but I didn't get your number the other day.” But he got her address from Richie's intense questioning when she visited the shop.

“I knocked on two different houses until I got the right one,” he explains as Coco curiously circles around his feet, sniffing his pants, hitting his crotch with her nose in the process.

“No, Coco. Sit. How many times have we talked about no nut-tapping?” Maya glances at her with amusement as the dog sits on her haunches.

“It’s fine,” he snorts. “All dogs do that.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. But she’s not any other dog. I thought I had taught her better. So what brings you here?”

“This.” He offers the paper bag hanging in his hand. “It's just a little house-warming gift.”

“You didn't have to.” As she takes the bag from his hand she ushers him inside before closing the door.

“It's nothing, really.”

He glances around as Maya takes out the box from the bag.

“Wow, a set of knives? That's not nothing.”

“Everyone needs one good set of knives. But you can exchange them for something else if you want.”

“No. I like these. But I gotta warn you that I'm not much of a cook, and I'll probably use the same one for everything.”

“That's fine I can show you sometime though. Is she friendly? ” He points at the dog that keeps staring at him. “Can I pet her?”

“Yeah, she loves everyone. Go ahead.”

Michael cautiously pets the brown coat of her head as her floppy ears lower at the passing of his hand.

“Never pictured you with a pit bull.”

“Me neither. I always thought I'd be a cat lady. But I met her at this adoption drive when she was one, and she stole my heart.”

“I can see why.” Michael crouches down, and pets Coco with both hands. “She's really sweet.”

He lets her lick his chin a couple of times before standing back on his feet. Then they go on a tour around the house.

“It's still a work in progress. I'm thinking of painting a few walls, but we like it so far.”

“Yeah, it has good bones.”

“So you don't have to work today?” Asks Maya.

“No, we've had some trouble with the gas line, and we've been shut down for a couple of days.”

“That sucks. Now where am I going to get my sandwiches and coffee on my way to work?”

“Heard Starbucks is pretty good.”

“Shut up. Don't even joke about that.” She playfully shoves his shoulder as they go back to the living room.

“Are you doing something later?”

She shakes her head. “Why?”

“I don't know, thought you were having a comeback party or something.”

“I don't really have any friends here. And I don't feel like inviting my family yet. As you can see, I still have a lot to unpack.”

“Physically or mentally speaking?”

“Both,” she scoffs.

“Let's do something then? Just you and me. We could grab some pizza, or go out for a drink for old times’ sake?”

“Old times’ sake?” It's amusing, surprising and confusing his sudden interest in her. Maybe he can see how pathetic she thinks she is, and he's taking pity on her. Although, that was never Michael style.

“Yeah, c'mon, Mayhem. You look like you could use some fun.” He picks up a book that's sitting on top from the box opened by the couch that's titled — Dating Again with Courage and Confidence: The Five-Step Plan to Revitalize Your Love Life after Heartbreak, Breakup, or Divorce. “And maybe a rebound or something. You don't need a fucking help book. You only need me to show where to get the best guys, or girls. Whatever you're into.”

“Give me that. I don't need a rebound, a help book, or you for all matter finding me a date.”

“No? Then why do you have that?”

“My friend Paige thought I should give it a try.”

“Maybe she was onto something there.”

“I'm perfectly fine. Just want to finish organizing everything, focus on work and this handful I have right here.” Her hand gestures at Coco. “What are you so interested in my love life anyway? First you try to play matchmaker with Carmy, and now you want me to do what, exactly? Hook up with the first guy I see?”

“No, I'm just asking you to go out and have some fun. I know Carmy was the only friend you had here. And if I was in your shoes, I'd feel pretty lonely.”

“I'm not lonely, Michael. Do I miss my friends in Sacramento? Sure,” she admits. “But I don't wanna force anything. I'm just taking it slow. When the time comes I'll jump right in but for now, this is all I need. Really. Stop pitying me.”

“I'm not pitying you, sweetheart.”

“No? Then what is it? Where is this coming from?”

“I don't know… I've always thought you were the salt of the earth. And though we never really hung out together, I thought you could use… But I can see now that you're different, and that you know what you need right now, so I'll just shut up and back off. Let you do your thing.”

“Thank you. I do know what I'm doing, by the way. You don't have to worry about me. I'll be fine. But I appreciate you coming here anyway.”

“Yeah, of course. And I can help you unpack if you need.”

“Hm, if you don't have anything better to do, be my guest. We could grab a pizza later, if the offer still stands. Or just order some food.”

“Sure.”

Michael helps Maya unpack all the boxes and put everything in place in half the time it'd have taken her alone. They order some food for lunch and spend half the day talking and laughing until late in the afternoon when they decide to go out for some drinks to keep the good vibes going.

At the end of the night, she offers to drive Michael back to his apartment as a thank you for inviting her.

“Did you have fun?” Michael asks from the passenger seat as she pulls up in front of his building.

“Yeah, I did. I'm glad I changed my mind.”

“Me too. I didn't know you were this fun. You're nothing like I remember.”

“Yeah, I was kind of weird growing up. You guys probably thought there was something wrong with me. ”

“Nah, don't be so hard on yourself. We were all weird in our own way.”

“Uh-uh. No Michael Berzatto. You were the coolest guy back in the day, and you still are.”

“I don’t know about that,” he scoffs. “For the record… I never thought there was anything wrong with you.”

“You were probably the only one… Anyway, thank you for today. I know I said I didn't need this, but I guess I did.”

“You're welcome, Maybird. I'm glad you’re back.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“Thanks for bringing me home,” he softly squeezes her arm before reaching for the handle to open the door.

“No problem.”

“You know you can call me if you ever miss your friends, y’know?” he throws casually.

“I uh…sure. I will.”

“Okay.”

“Okay,” she echoes back as he pulls the handle and the door opens.

“Have a good night, Michael,” she says as he gets one foot on the pavement.

“You, too, sweetheart.”

He closes the door and vaguely waves as she sets the car in motion and watches her drive away.

Chapter 3: Don't cry over spilled milk

In the few weeks he's been spending time with Maya, Michael has found himself enjoying her company more than he'd like to admit. Being with her grounds him. She makes him forget for a little while all that's wrong in his life. She's like a beacon in that immerse darkness that his sorry existence has become. Despite having her own set of problems, he's watched her rise above all that with poise. He wonders what it's her secret to her steadfast determination, even when her own family has disavowed her.

After closing shop, he dives into his stash to tame that brewing headache before driving to Oak Park to pay her a visit. She told him earlier via text that she was at Home Depot buying some paint to update the color of her bedroom and asked him to come over to hang out after work.

For some reason, he couldn't say no. Not even the storm in his head is strong enough to deny her request. He has a pull on him, tugging him hard like a dog tied to a leash in her hand, he can’t help but follow her lead.

When he arrives at her house, she's halfway done. Two of the walls shine bright new in a lavender tone as she starts working on the next one.

After having beer and playing a tug of war game with his new friend, Coco, Michael offers his help to finish painting the walls. He uses a brush to paint the corners, while she gracefully uses a roller like a pro with her denim overalls over a tank top, and her raven hair pulled up in a ponytail sprinkled with lavender paint beads. When she lifts one of her arms, he catches a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of her rib cage, leveled to the roundness of her chest that looks like the outline of a dog paw.

“What are you looking at?” She asks after catching him staring.

“You have paint on your chin.”

“Oh.” She wipes it with the back of her hand, but she just spreads the stain along her jaw. “I made it worse, didn't I?”

“Yeah.”

She shrugs it off and continues with the task ahead until the whole wall is covered.

“Is everything okay, Bear?” Maya puts down the paint roller. “You're quieter than usual.”

“Yeah, everything's alright.” It sounds so honest, he almost believes it. “It's just been a long day.”

“I'm sorry that I put you to work.”

“Don't be. This is relaxing.”

“Yeah?” She takes a step back and surveys how much brighter her bedroom looks already after covering most of the former downcast grey. “Is the color right? Do you think it's too girlish?”

Giving the room a once over he says, “it's a good shade. I dig it. It doesn't matter what I think or if it's too girlish, as long as you like it. Do you like it?”

“Yeah. I do.”

She dips the roller on the tray to cover another section of the wall.

“You never told me what happened at the funeral with your mom,” Michael leans on the stepladder, taking a short break.

“Do you really wanna know?” She glances over her shoulder.

“Yeah. Everyone does. I’ve heard some crazy stories about it. Thought I should get it straight from the source.”

“I never pegged you for a gossip girl.”

“I’m not. I’m just making conversation.”

She mockingly narrows her eyes, drawing a lopsided smirk, “liar.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t wanna. But yeah, can’t help being a little curious about it.”

“I don’t mind telling you, but it won’t be as entertaining as those crazy stories people have made up.”

“I’m not here for entertainment. I just wanna hear your side of the story, Maybird.”

Maya lets out a heavy sigh and while keeping her focus on the wall she shares with him what really happened. She’s right to say that is not the best story she’s ever told, though when it comes to her mother, all her stories tend to have a surreal element even she can’t fathom sometimes.

That day at the funeral, she was taken outside during the wake by Angela Silva to get scolded about her imminent divorce. It wasn’t finalized by then, and her mom invoked one last Hail Mary to convince her to stay with her husband, who was also currently dating someone else. It was a messy situation that Maya couldn't wait to get out of, and the fact that her mother never offered an ounce of support wasn’t surprising, but still devastating. Somehow, Angela found that the reason for her separation from her husband was that Maya didn’t want to have kids, and that really vexed Angela. All she wanted for her three kids was to follow the same traditional path Angela was forced into, no matter how miserable she was. Her two older sisters followed her mother’s narrowed traditional values. But Maya, ever-the-nonconformist, swore she would never follow anyone’s drum beat but her own. Her husband thought she’d change her mind eventually. He was wrong. She knew that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, which led her here, to this moment.

“Is your mom ever happy?” Michael has always wondered.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen her happy, except when she’s drunk. That’s why she has to make everyone else miserable.”

“Yeah, but she’s always had a fixation on making you miserable.”

“Like I said, every family needs a black sheep, and I’m it.”

“Is that why you became a vet?”

“Yeah, probably.”

“So, it's true, you don’t wanna have kids? I’m not judging. I’m just curious.”

“I honestly don't know. I just knew that when he told me he wanted to have a baby right away, it didn’t feel right. I said that maybe in six or seven years I’d be okay with it. Told him I wanted to travel and just be us for a while, and he said that was too long to wait. I don’t know… he stopped talking to me, and it was clear that he wasn’t changing his mind, and I wasn’t changing my mind, so. At some point I got tired of trying… He got a girlfriend as soon as I filed for divorce and I got a text from Paige the other day that said he got her already pregnant, like… that was never me. I guess it served me right… I married him on a whim, an impulse without really talking about what we wanted…”

“Hey, don’t feel sorry for yourself. You dodged a bullet there.”

“You really think that?.”

“Yeah, I do. You stood up for yourself and knew when to step back when it didn’t feel right. Not everyone has the balls to do that. Think how miserable you’d be by now if you had tried to please him or your mom. You seem happy now. That's what matters.” He means that with all his heart, and wishes he had the same drive to follow those same steps. As much as he loved the restaurant, he chose to run it to please people within his family. And that love turned into a nightmare he couldn't escape.

“You know… I liked you better when you were quiet,” she quips.

Michael huffs a soft laugh, picking up his brush to resume painting.

When the room is finished, she plugs a couple of fans and closes the door to keep Coco away.

Maya washes her hands and face in the bathroom sink. When she comes out, she catches the motion of Michael's arm as he shoves what looks like a pill into his mouth before taking a gulp of water from one of her glasses.

“What was that? Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. It's just a headache,” looking down, he runs a palm over his short growing beard.

“Is it the fumes?”

“No, I had it before coming here.”

“Michael,” she sighs softly at his name. “You should've told me. I wouldn't have let you help if I knew.”

“Would you stop that? I wanted to help.”

“Okay, c'mere. Let's sit down.”

“No, I think I should get going.”

“Nonsense. I'm not going to let you drive until you feel better.”

He yields with a long exhale, and follows Maya into the living room, where her bed is settled askew in the middle of the space.

She takes a seat on the edge of the mattress and waits for him to sit next to her.

“Give me your hand,” she shows her palm up, as his eyes narrow. “C'mon, don't be a baby, give me your hand, Berzatto.”

“When did you become so bossy?” He slowly lifts his hand and as he lays it on top of her palm, his fingers tremble upon contact with her skin. Maya then uses her opposite hand to clip the webbing between his thumb and pointer fingers with her own and begins massaging that spot.

“My friend Sierra is really into acupressure. She says this is a pressure point that helps with headaches.” She explains while slowly increasing the force. “Does it hurt?”

“Not one bit. Is that like acupuncture?” His voice comes as a whisper as he focuses on her diligent fingers.

“Kinda. I think. I’m not really sure.”

“You don't have to fix me, you know?”

“I'm not trying to fix you, Bear. I just wanna make you feel better.”

“Admit it. You just love a good wounded animal.”

She smiles softly, placing his hand down on his knee and picking up the other. “Does it feel any different?”

He’s not really sure, it wasn’t truly a headache that led them to take that pill but the annoying rambling of his thoughts. She shouldn’t have seen that. And he shouldn’t have lied. But having her hands on his like this is straight up lovely. Inside of him, it truly feels like something is broken, wounded, and missing, and this is giving him a sliver of relief as he waits for the pill to kick in. If he was a better man, he’d tell her the truth. But he’s too far gone for saving. All he can do is keep that facade up.

“Does it?” She insists after not getting an answer.

“A little.”

“Do you wanna lay down?”

Swallowing, he responds with a nod, and they both lean back on the mattress at the same time. Looking at the ceiling, she keeps kneading that pressure point, unsure if she’s even doing it right.

They stay in comfortable silence for a good five minutes and when she finally places his hand down, Maya glances to the side and sees that his eyes have closed, and his chest gently rising and falling. She calls his name softly, but she can see that behind the sharp edges of his face and the ever-growing shade of his beard, he’s truly exhausted, so she doesn’t insist. She extends her hand to turn off the lamp, and curls on the other side of the bed without disturbing his sleep.

“Good night,” she says softly and closes her eyes.

From a dusty corner of her mind comes crawling that little forgotten part that used to harbor a lot of feelings for Michael. Though a few weeks ago he seemed practically the same Michael she knew, over the past month she’s keenly noticed little changes here and there. His eyes sometimes cast a dark shade tainted in nothing but sadness, it’s barely noticeable for other people. It comes and goes, but it tells her he’s not truly as happy as he pretends to be.

Michael wakes up disoriented at the crack of dawn.

It takes him a few seconds to remember he’s still in Mayas’ bed in the middle of her living room and that the weight that has his arm pinned is her body pressed against his. She’s warmly snuggled on his side, with her arms tucked between his chest and hers, and a peaceful expression on her beautiful face. She’s so awfully close, he can smell the scent of her hair, and feel the heat of her breath every time she exhales.

It's such an odd moment for him to have her that close. He's unsure of whether it would be better to slip out of bed unnoticed before she wakes up, or just stay there and watch her sleep for a bit longer. Either option would make him look like a creep, he thinks. So he opts to gently wake her up. His free hand reaches to his forehead to move a stand of hair away. Her brow scrunches as his light-feather touch grazes her skin. His lips curve up as he traces the shell of her ear to see her stir awake. She blinks slowly a couple of times until her focus shifts onto him.

“Hey, Maybird.”

“Hey.” Her lips move, it's barely audible.

“Sorry, I fell asleep.” His fingers absentmindedly massage her earlobe.

She's so stunned by waking up to that level of intimacy, she simply nods, as her mouth softly draws a smile.

“It's fine. Does your head feel better?”

“Much better. That pressure thing really worked.”

“I'm glad.”

“Listen, I gotta go open. Maybe we could do something later?”

“Okay,” she swallows nervously, hoping that waking up with him like this isn't just a dream. “Can you do me a favor first?”

“Sure.”

“Can you stay five more minutes?”

“I uh… I think I can,” against his better judgment, he decides he can stay for a few minutes more holding her.

The way her lips pull up timidly at the corners, revealing the dimples framing her mouth, completely disarms him. He’s always felt a certain affinity towards her, but being this close to her awakes a longing within that feels dangerous. He can’t bring someone new into his life. Not while everything around him is falling apart. It’s already hard enough having to pretend around other people.

He couldn’t do that to her. He won’t.

Michael will have to fight harder because when her arm tucks around his waist he can’t help but press his lips against her forehead.

Chapter 4: Hard nut to crack

Four months later…

After that initial moment of weakness when he fell asleep on her bed, he fought hard to elude that odd longing that has only grown into a big mass of love toward Maya. To anyone else in the world, a feeling as big as that would be a blessing, especially when it's reciprocated. To Michael, it's a weakness he can't afford right now.

Spending all that time with Maya has been like discovering a whole new planet Michael never thought existed. She's all vast, uncharted territory that fazes him more than it should. Despite his best efforts, he’s fallen into her alluring orbit and can’t find the way out into his own universe.

Far gone is that moody teenager that would mumble a few words here and there. And now there's this tragically stunning woman that looks you directly in the eye, says anything that crosses her mind, and laughs without a care in the world.

Though falling in love with her wouldn’t be completely wrong, it's not quite right either. It fills him with guilt to think about her in that manner. Moreover, it feels like a betrayal to Carmy, who’s far away in a different continent, prospering in his craft.

Michael tries to fool himself into believing that this is just temporary infatuation. He’s even attempted several times to convince her to get in touch with Carmy but hasn’t succeeded. It’d be easier for him if she were to put her focus on someone else instead of him. He has nothing to offer to her and has deemed himself unworthy of her, or anyone for that matter. If she only knew what’s really going on with him, she wouldn’t want Michael nearly as she believes she does.

Layer by layer, she’s tearing all his walls and defenses down. And after all the back and forth, he's absolutely sure she wants more than he can offer her. She’s been giving him the right signals. She doesn't shy away from it. Maya is direct and impulsive, and everything about her is fascinating and intimidating.

It’s time to either cut her loose, or accept that he’s madly in love with her and do something about it.

Amidst coming to terms with a final decision, he's lured into a surprise party she's organized for his birthday.

Michael is left speechless by her determination. And a little annoyed too for reasons he can't explain. To be honest, he’s never been a fan of surprise parties, but the main problem is that this would make things much harder for him to let her down easily. She’s carved herself into his life and the longer he drags this out, the worse this is going to hurt.

He’s aware that it’s selfish and obtuse of him for being that ungrateful that someone who cares that profoundly about him, that they would go all out to prove that. He feels like an asshole, but the train has already left the station.

Using the same tiring self-defense mechanism, he draws his best smile and brings out the Michael everyone seems to love. Not without help. There's always that crutch tucked in his wallet in the form of a pill. Being high numbs him enough to deal with the situation.

The cherry on top comes at the end of the night, when he walks her up to her car and asks if he's had a good time. He lies through his teeth and for the first time, he can tell Maya is not buying it. Perhaps she never did, but he's well-versed on her tells by now, and he can clearly see she's fed up with all the bullshit that comes out of his mouth.

“Look, it's not that I didn't like the party. It's just that I hate surprises, and I was exhausted today. But it was a nice thought, sweetheart. I just… I wasn't in the right mood.” It's seemingly convincing the second time around, but her face shows nothing but regret. “I love the jacket you bought me, though.”

Michael has never been interested in fashion, but he's always loved vintage jackets, and the one she picked it's a perfect addition to his collection. It's a bomber jacket, aviator style, in brown leather with a couple of patches and fur collar.

As they reach Maya's car, they come to a stop. She turns to him, “I know I can be a little too much sometimes. But I promise no more surprises from now on.”

“You and I both know, you won’t be able to keep that promise even if your life depended on it. That's part of what makes you– you, sweetheart. Don’t let my bad mood ruin that.”

“I’ll try.”

After a beat, without hesitation she leans in to leave a goodnight kiss on his bearded cheek and on a whim, she decides to press a second one on his lips.

It takes him completely aback. He wants to dive so badly into her mouth, but he freezes on the spot. And when Maya attempts to deepen the kiss, he finally reacts by placing a placating hand on her shoulder as he pulls his head back.

“I'm… I'm sorry we can't do this, Maya.”

“Wait, I thought… Did I misread something?”

“No, you didn’t misread anything. I just can’t do this.”

“Why?”

“I can't.”

“You can't or don’t want to?”

“Guess I don’t want to.”

“Can you at least tell me why? Did I do something wrong?”

“You did nothing wrong, sweetheart.” He wants to spill out the old – it's not you, it's me – excuse, but he refrains. Every thought and action go against every good instinct he's ever had. He hates himself for making her feel insecure. And yet, he can't backtrack now.

“Stop calling me sweetheart. You see how misleading that is?”

“Sorry. I think I gave you the wrong impression.”

Her eyes narrow, and he can see the gears turning for a long moment before opening her mouth.

“I don't think you gave me the wrong impression, Michael. I think you're too chickenshit to admit that there's something between us and, for whatever reason, you're just taking the coward's way out. You've been weird the whole night, especially with me. I just threw a party just for you, the least you can do is tell me why.”

“I didn't ask you to do that. And I don't owe telling you shit! I was trying to let you go easy, but nothing is ever easy with you. So I'll just say it. This, you and me, is never going to happen.”

It sounds ridiculous as it comes out of his mouth, but he stands firm on that statement as her heart breaks in front of him.

In the end, it'd be better for her, he believes.

[bingwriterxo]

paparazzi

pairing: jenna ortega x reader

summary: in which an accident occurs after your dinner with jenna

warnings: mentions of blood

word count: 1200+

author's note: another request for the books (find here)! also, i couldn't resist the end references. they're just too good. also x2, 100th post woooo!

"There she is!"

"Jenna! Jenna!"

"Over here!"

What had started as a quiet dinner in celebration of your two-year anniversary had quickly descended into chaos when a few paps caught wind of the fact that America's newest 'it girl', a.k.a your lovely girlfriend, was seen in public after having disappeared off the face of the Earth for the past month (the two of you had been vacationing, and then you got sick, and then she got sick from taking care of you, so you had been homebodies while trying to recover).

The moment you stepped outside of the restaurant, hand intertwined with Jenna's and body pulled close into her back so that she wouldn't lose you amongst the crowd, you were swarmed by flashing lights that blinded your eyes, shouts of your girlfriend's name that were almost deafening, and people, people, people.

Jenna had an iron-clad grip on your hand, but people were shoving you in the opposite direction as they tried to get a close-up shot of your girlfriend, and your body couldn't take the struggle of being pulled in two different ways. Before you knew it, you had lost your hold on the actress and were left drowning in the sea of photographers.

"Y/N?" Jenna's voice rang clear above the commotion. You stretched your neck to try and look for her, but it was no use: she was too crowded.

If we ever get separated, just meet me at the car, okay? she had told you when the two of you first began dating, back when you hadn't yet realized what you were getting yourself into.

Just meet at the car, you thought. Simple enough.

You tried to maneuver past people, keeping your head down and your eyes trained on your feet so that you wouldn't step on any toes. However, it was much easier said than done as the spaces between bodies grew smaller and smaller, making it nearly impossible for you to get by.

"Sorry. 'Scuse me, could I just--" you tried, but to no avail. You had barely moved an inch when you heard her voice again.

"Y/N?!" She sounded closer this time, like she was moving toward you. You still had no visuals on her, but if she was trying to make her way to you, then you could make it easier on her and try to find her as well, right?

Guess we're jumping in, you thought with a huff.

You pushed against people, having much less care for their toes this time around, and used your arms to try spreading them apart, creating little gaps for you to slip through. It took you a few minutes, but finally, finally, you could see a head of brunette hair and a pair of wide, frantic eyes as they flitted from one person to the next, undoubtedly looking for you.

"Jenna!" you called, and her head snapped in your direction. There was still a line of people separating the two of you, but as her eyes softened and the crease between her brows disappeared, you knew that she could see you.

"Y/N!" she shouted in relief as her arm shot toward you, her fingers wiggling in desperation.

You reached for her, hand brushing over peoples' shoulders and past their faces, and just as her finger skimmed over the metal of your ring, you were thrown sideways by a photographer, hitting the concrete hard.

Your vision blacked, your ears rang, and you could feel liquid pooling beneath your head. Is that...? You blinked your eyes open and sat up slightly, the pads of your fingers dipping into the puddle. You cringed when you saw they were red. Oh, that's my blood.

You looked up when you noticed people were parting quickly, their feet shuffling to the side and creating a large circle around you. Jenna rushed into the middle, her arms extended toward you. She kneeled down, taking your cheeks in her hand.

"Oh my god," she said. She pulled you closer to inspect your injury. "You're bleeding."

The cameras never stopped clicking.

"I'm okay," you said, even though she sounded a bit muffled to you and she was a little blurrier than normal.

"You're bleeding," she repeated, like you hadn't heard her the first time.

You placed your hand over her own, palm pressed against her knuckles. "I'm fine, baby."

She huffed, and you watched as her eyes turned from worried to enraged. She looked up at the paps, her lip turned up in disgust. "Look at what you guys did! She's bleeding and you guys are still taking your goddamn pictures?!"

Oh shit, you thought. This is gonna be everywhere tomorrow. You could already imagine the headlines: Jenna Ortega -- America's It Girl, or America's Bitch Girl?

"Jenna, baby," you cooed, calling her attention back to you before any more damage could be done to her 'good girl' reputation. "I'm alright, see?" You stood, albeit on shaky legs, and the woman was quick to wrap her arm around your waist, helping to hold you steady. "Let's just go home."

Jenna pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, a million different emotions flickering through her eyes. "I have half a mind to shove their damn cameras up their asses," she muttered, loud enough for only you to hear. Her grip tightened. "Or better yet, beat them all over their heads with their stupid fucking--"

"J, come on." You started ushering her toward where the car was parked, and she sighed, annoyed.

"Fine." She used her body to shield you from any photographers that dared to follow, which, to your surprise, there were plenty. "But if one of them so much as looks at you the wrong way, I swear I'll--"

"Do something involving their cameras up their asses, I know," you said, chuckling.

"Damn right I will," she grumbled, reaching out to open the passenger's side door for you. You offered her a grateful smile before slipping into the car and watching as she rounded the hood. She gave one last Kubrick-like stare to the remaining paps before joining you, huffing as she sat behind the wheel.

The two of you sat in silence for most of the ride home, with Jenna grumbling and mumbling to herself, and you trying to ignore the pounding in your head. It wasn't until you were on the street of your shared apartment that she spoke up.

"I should sue them all," she said. "Sue every last one of them."

You giggled. "Oh yeah? And what's that gonna do?" you asked lightly.

"Teach them a damn lesson about personal space." She clenched her jaw. "Clearly they didn't learn anything about it in preschool."

"Baby, I'm fine." You placed a hand on her thigh, your thumb rubbing at the hem of her dress. "There's no need for suing or beating any of them up."

She parked the car and turned to you, eyes glowing in the light of the parking lot. "They hurt you." She reached up and placed her fingers on your jaw, tilting your head upward slightly. "You have blood on your forehead."

You shrugged. "'Tis but a scratch," you said, grinning as you quoted a line from one of your favorite movies. Jenna rolled her eyes, though the smallest of smirks was beginning to show.

"Whatever, nerd." She leaned over the center console and pressed a quick kiss to your lips. "Let's just get you cleaned up."

You smiled. "I'm invincible!"

"Stop quoting Monty Python!"