#sorry for doing a man first in this series

[katsu28]

love you always

pairing: lando norris x reader

summary: lando plans a series of surprises for you on valentine's day. (2.4k)

a/n: happy valentine's day my loves!! here's something sweet <3 believe it or not it's 3AM and i wrote this all in one go so if you see any errors no you don't ;)

The surprises start first thing in the morning. 

Lando is up and out of the house for training long before you even stir, but made sure you woke up to something nice. When you shuffle out to the kitchen in much need of coffee to get your day going, you’re pleasantly surprised by a full pot of the good coffee made with beans you’ve always saved for special occasions, and pastries from your favorite bakery. 

A little note beside the box of mouthwatering baked goods reads a message from your boyfriend. 

happy valentine’s day, my love. sorry i couldn’t be there when you woke up, but i hope these make you smile. be on the lookout for more surprises today <3 love you always - LN 

The second surprise is waiting for you when you make your way to work. You’ve barely just walked into the office when you’re approached by Cass, one of your closest work friends. 

“Girl, you are one lucky bitch. I’d die if my man got me something like that,” She gushes, eyes gleaming. You squint at her in confusion.

“Sorry, what?” You say, unsure. She just smiles knowingly, tilting her head towards your cubicle. It isn’t until you lay eyes on your desk that you see what she’s talking about. 

A giant bouquet of red roses with baby’s breath scattered amongst the bunch sits on your chair, wrapped in colorful paper and tied together with a string. Nestled in it is another note from Lando, this one with the message embossed on crisp cardstock—

told you i’d have more surprises :) if i know you (and i’m pretty sure i do), you’re too caught up with the roses to notice the other thing, so look on your desk. maybe wear it tonight? love you always - LN

Lando is right, you hadn’t noticed the small box sitting right in the middle of your desk, seemingly nothing until you open it carefully.

A necklace sparkles out at you—a pendant of your birthstone, hanging on a delicate chain. It’s absolutely gorgeous, and another beautiful necklace to add to the ever growing collection of jewelry Lando’s gifted you in your time together. 

Wear it tonight. 

There was no doubt that Lando had planned a date for tonight, but you’d been unsuccessful in weaseling any details out of him these past few days leading up to today. 

“Can you just tell me what you’ve got planned?” You whine, pouting over at Lando where he’s putting away his shirts in the wardrobe. “Like, what restaurant are we going to?”

“Um, no.” He shoots you a look that screams judgement, but you know it’s all in good nature. “That would completely ruin the surprise.” 

“But I need to figure out what I’m going to wear,” You reason, sitting up quickly. Lando pins you to the spot with another disapproving look that you ignore, digging in your metaphorical heels. “What if I show up looking like an absolute slob because you didn’t tell me it was somewhere fancy? That would be your fault, not mine.” 

Lando finishes his task, coming over to the bed where you’re sat cross-legged, and props himself up on his elbows right in front of you. “First of all, you never look like a slob. Even when you’re on the last day of your hair wash cycle and you’ve just come back from a run, you’re still the most beautiful girl in the world.” 

“That’s disgusting, but…oddly sweet of you.” 

“Second of all,” He says pointedly, poking you in the leg for interrupting him, “If I tell you where I’ve made reservations, you’ll spend all day thinking about it and you’ll freak yourself out like you tend to do. So no, I’m not telling you what I’ve got planned.” 

Well, no one can ever say Lando doesn’t know you. He knows you too well, really. Knows your tendencies, exactly what’ll be running through your mind.  

“I hate how perfect you are,” You sniff, wrinkling your nose at him. 

“Yeah, I love you too, baby.” 

You know Lando is probably busy with training so you don’t call him, but you do shoot him a thank you text, to which he returns with a whole slew of love related emojis. 

You’re not usually one to enjoy being showered with gifts, but the fact that he’s planned all these surprises to make sure you know he’s thinking of you has butterflies fluttering in your chest. 

Lando never ceases to make you feel so loved, all the time, even when he’s not physically there with you. 

You’re hard at work when your Cass calls your name around noon, drawing you out of your focus. 

“Hey, there’s a food delivery person asking for you at the front desk.” 

“Are you sure? I didn’t order anything,” You reply, brows creased in curiosity. 

You hadn’t ordered anything, but thinking about food makes you realize you’d completely forgotten to pack your lunch before you’d left the house this morning. Oddly enough, you don’t even remember seeing it in the fridge on the shelf where it usually is. 

She shrugs. “They’re asking for you.”

You thank Cass quickly, making your way to the lobby to meet the delivery person. 

“Hi!” You say politely. “Sorry to keep you waiting, but I didn’t order anything. Maybe you’ve got the wrong address?”

One look at the restaurant name on the bag almost has you taking back your words, because it’s from your favorite little cafe in the city, and if you take a deep enough breath, you can almost smell the mouthwatering aroma wafting from the paper bag. 

The poor delivery driver looks as puzzled as you feel. She blinks, looking at something on her phone before tilting her head. “Uh, I don’t think so? The system said the order was placed by a Bob N? Do you know a Bob that would order takeaway to this address?” 

You have to fight the urge to laugh. Of course it was Lando who’d ordered takeaway. Another Valentine’s Day surprise for you, it seems. 

“Wow, I’m so sorry for the confusion. My boyfriend, he must’ve had it sent here without letting me know,” You explain, feeling your cheeks blaze warm. “Yes, it’s for me.” 

“Oh my god, that’s so cute! Your boyfriend is so sweet!” She gushes, passing over the bag.

“Yeah, he is,” You chuckle. “Thank you so much, have a great day! Sorry again for the mix up.” 

“You too, happy Valentine’s Day!” 

Upon opening the bag when you get back to your desk, you see something tucked in beside the takeaway container. Yet another note, not printed nor in his handwriting, so he’d probably made a special request for the restaurant to write it. 

hope you’re hungry! enjoy your lunch, baby. day’s halfway over, see you soon <3 love you always - Bob

This time, you do call Lando as you munch on your food. 

“Hi, baby!” You chirp happily. 

“Hey, you,” He greets back, sounding glad to hear your voice. He always does whenever you give him a ring. “What’s up?” 

“How’d you know I’d forgotten my lunch?” 

“What? You did? No way!” Lando sounds a little too smug to be innocent, and it isn’t hard to connect the dots now. 

You chuckle, a little disbelieved. “Did you seriously hide my lunch just so you could have takeaway delivered to my office?” 

“I did no such thing. Did I accidentally toss it out whilst I was taking out the rubbish last night? Maybe. But we’ll never know, will we?” 

“Sure we won’t. Thank you, by the way. I’ve been craving this all week.” 

“I know. Heard you muttering about it in your sleep the other night. Fuckin’ weirdo.” You can almost imagine him grinning that big toothy smile of his that you love, shaking his head at you. “Anyways, good news. I managed to convince Jon to let me off early today, so I can pick you up from work.” 

“Really? How’d you swing that?” 

“Might’ve let it slip I’ve got something special planned for us tonight and he caved. That man is such a sucker for love, it’s crazy.” 

“So you’ll tell your trainer what we’re doing tonight, but you won’t tell me? That’s messed up, Norris,” You say teasingly. He laughs. 

“Well, he’s not the one I’m trying to surprise, you muppet. You’ll find out soon enough, don’t you worry,” Lando tuts. You hear someone say something on his end of the line that Lando gives a muffled reply to, but he’s back before you know it. “M’sorry, I gotta get back to it. I’ll see you at five?” 

“I’ll be waiting. Tell Jon I say hi and thanks for giving you some freedom today. Love you always!” 

“Love you always.” 

-------

The rest of the workday goes by without any more Lando surprises, but you’re still nearly buzzing with energy because of the fact you get to see him earlier than you’d expected. After a long day of work, your wonderful boyfriend is just what you need. 

You see him through the doors before he sees you. He’s leaning against the side of his sleek Porsche, cap backwards on his head as he squints through the waning sunlight in search of you and looking unfairly handsome while doing so. You even pause to snap a sneaky photo of him because he just looks so good. 

When you finally exit the building, Lando beams, holding a hand up in greeting. 

“Hi, gorgeous.” He smiles, leaning in for a kiss as soon as you get within arms’ length of him. “Missed you.” 

“Missed you too, Lan.” You mean it. Even though you’ve only been apart for a workday, he’s been on your mind throughout it. You don’t know how you survive race weeks without being with him all the time. 

“Ready to go home?” 

“Never been more ready. Maybe I’ll worm some information about tonight out of you on the way.” 

“Sneaky girl. Right, I’ll tell you this, it’s a nice restaurant. Somewhere we’ve been before.” 

“But not my favorite restaurant, because you already got me food from there today.” 

“Observant, aren’t you? No, not that one.” He opens the passenger side door for you to get in and you do, wracking your brain for any idea of where Lando would be taking you in a few hours. “Alright, don’t think too hard about it. Wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself now.” 

“Rude.” 

“Look, is it alright for me to lightly suggest what I think you could wear?” He asks, pulling out of the car park and onto the road. You shoot him a look that tells him to be careful, but still nod slowly. “That dress that I like. The swishy one with the thin straps that make your boobs look—” 

“Lando.” 

“Sorry, sorry, got a little carried away,” He says sheepishly. “But yeah, that one would be perfect.” 

“That’s a nice one,” You hum, tilting your head in thought. “You’ve got good taste after all.” 

“Um, yeah, I know. I bought it.” 

-------

You’ve got on the dress that Lando suggested, but there’s one thing you always forget about this specific one. The zipper on the back is near impossible for you to get all the way up on your own. No matter how hard you try, you’ve always had to get Lando to help you that last bit. 

“Lan, could you c’mere a second?” You call down the corridor. Footsteps echo right away, and then he’s in the doorway, adjusting the cuff of his dress shirt with intense focus. 

“Yeah, what’s up?” 

“Could you zip me?” 

“Could I—oh, fuck.” 

You make eye contact in the mirror in front of you and Lando freezes right where he is, mouth ajar, blinking at you like he can’t believe you’re real and in front of him. 

“Help?” You urge, fighting an amused smile at how absolutely floored he looks. 

He gives his head a shake, rushing over to help you. Shaky fingers slide the delicate zipper up until it’s good. “Sorry, I just—every time you wear that dress I think I forget how to breathe a little bit.” 

“I’m flattered.” 

“You should be. Baby, you look absolutely beautiful.” His gaze flits to your necklace, the new one you’d gotten today, and his mouth curves into a smile. “That’s a nice one. Wonder who got it for you?” 

“My boyfriend, actually. Dunno if you know him, but he’s kinda the best. Massive forehead though.” 

“Oh, you’re funny,” He huffs, nose wrinkling in overdramatic offense that makes you giggle. “Kiss?” 

“You’d have my lipstick all over your mouth.” 

“Does it look like I care? I wanna kiss you.” 

Rolling your eyes playfully, you let him kiss you. While you’re expecting a short kiss, Lando takes it a step further, two hands sliding behind you to dip you backwards a little bit to deepen it. To say you’re taken by surprise is a slight understatement, but you go with what he’s doing. 

You kiss him until you’re breathless, pulling back with a hand splayed over his chest. 

Lando grins goofily with lipstick smudges all over his mouth. “Totally worth it,” He says, looking absolutely giddy.

Once you’ve reapplied what had rubbed off on Lando, you’re off through the city in Lando’s favorite car. The more familiar your surroundings get, the more you realize where he’s taking you, and your suspicions are concerned when he pulls up to the valet. 

The restaurant where you’d had your first date. 

Lando always tells you how he’d known he’d wanted to spend the rest of his life with you on that first date, even before your entrees came. You always tell him you’d known it then too. 

“Did I do good?” He asks hopefully, holding out his elbow for you to loop your arm through as soon as he’s helped you out of the car.

“You did perfect, Lan. I might cry, actually.” 

“No, don’t do that! You’ll mess up your mascara and then you’ll look like a raccoon for the rest of the night.” 

You scoff lightly, successfully blinking back tears. “Wouldn’t want that, would we?” 

“We would not. Though I’d still think you were the cutest raccoon out of all the raccoons.” 

“You’re so dumb. I love you.” 

“Love you, babe. Always.” 

A nice dinner at a restaurant dear to your heart with the love of your life. It’s all you could’ve asked for, and Lando has gone beyond that to show you how much he loves you. 

On a Valentine’s Day full of wonderful surprises, this is the best one of all.

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[luvfae]

omg hiii ! i loved ur mini series CENTER STAGE and i wanted to know if i could request a thanos fanfic :p btw i love ur accs theme its BEAUTIFUL :3 so basically y/n breaks up w her boyfriend su bong because he does to much drugs XD so she tries to find a small job as far as possible from her old work place because she knows he will come visit (iykyk) Y/N starts working in a gaz station in the highway ! And guess what her dear dear ex bf thanos finds her :p im so sorry if is this so badly written btw you can do litteraly whatever you want (smut,angst,fluff its really up to you) OFC dont feel pressured to do this request and if you do pls tag me :) TOODLES

YOU CAN RUN, BUT

YOU CAN’T HIDE

parings: thanos/choi su-bong x f!reader

warnings: smut, oral (reader receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don’t be a dummy), public sex, swearing, thanos is lowkey a stalker

You should’ve known better.

You should’ve known he wouldn’t just let you go.

It had been two months since you left him. Two months since you packed up and disappeared, taking nothing but the essentials, leaving behind the mess of a man who had become more of a ghost than a lover.

Thanos had always been reckless, but the drugs made him worse. He was slipping, spiraling, drowning in a lifestyle that had already eaten away at him, and no matter how much you tried to pull him back, he wouldn’t stop. So you left. Because if he was going to destroy himself, you refused to let him take you down with him.

You thought you had escaped.

But you were wrong.

You got a job at a gas station on the highway—a quiet, out-of-the-way place that barely saw more than a handful of customers on a good day. You liked it. The silence. The stillness. The fact that no one knew you here.

Until tonight.

Until him.

You felt it before you saw him—that suffocating weight pressing against your ribs, the eerie sense of being watched. The store was empty, the dim fluorescent lights buzzing overhead as you restocked the shelves.

Then the bell above the door chimed.

You turned.

And there he was.

Thanos.

Standing in the doorway, hands stuffed into the pockets of his hoodie, watching you like a predator who had just found his prey.

Your stomach twisted.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then he smirked. “Took me a while to find you.”

Your throat went dry.

He took a slow step forward, then another, the automatic doors sliding shut behind him. The air in the store grew thick, the walls closing in.

“Nice place,” he said, glancing around before letting his gaze settle back on you. “Not really your vibe, though.”

Your fingers curled into the edge of the shelf. “What are you doing here?”

He cocked his head. “What do you think?”

Your pulse hammered against your ribs. He was high—you could see it in his eyes, that dark, hazy look that always meant trouble. But there was something else, too. Something sharper.

Something dangerous.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you said quietly.

His smirk faded. “Yeah?”

His steps were slow, deliberate, as he closed the distance between you. You forced yourself to stay still, even when every nerve in your body screamed at you to run.

Then he was right in front of you, so close you could smell the faint traces of smoke and cologne clinging to his hoodie.

“You left,” he murmured.

Your fingers twitched. “Yeah.”

His gaze flickered over your face, as if searching for something. Then, in a voice quieter than before—softer, in a way that made your chest ache—he asked, “Why?”

You swallowed hard.

“You know why.”

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

“No,” he said. “I don’t.”

His hand lifted. Not to grab you. Not to hurt you. Just to touch.

You flinched.

That made something in his expression crack.

“Did I ever hurt you?” His voice was low, rough.

You hesitated. “No.”

“Then why?”

Your breath shook. “Because you were hurting yourself.”

Silence.

For the first time, Thanos looked away. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.

Then, just as quickly, the softness vanished.

His hand shot out, gripping your jaw—not rough, but firm, holding you in place.

“You think you can run from me?” he murmured, tilting your chin up.

Your pulse pounded. “Let me go.”

He didn’t. Instead, his thumb traced your bottom lip, almost absently, his expression darkening.

“You left me,” he said. “Do you know what that did to me?”

You shuddered. “Thanos—”

His grip tightened just enough to make you gasp. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to remind you that you were his.

“You broke me,” he muttered.

Then he kissed you.

And it wasn’t gentle.

It was teeth, tongue, and desperation—his hands moving from your jaw to your waist, pulling you flush against him as if he wanted to crawl inside your skin. You gasped against his mouth, your hands shoving against his chest, but he only kissed you harder.

You hated that you kissed him back.

Hated the way your body melted into him like it never forgot, like it never wanted to forget.

Hated that part of you missed this.

“Mine,” he murmured against your lips. “You were always mine.”

His hands slid lower, gripping your thighs, hoisting you onto the counter like he belonged between your legs. Like he had every right to claim you again.

And maybe he did.

Because you weren’t sure you had ever stopped belonging to him.

And that terrified you.

His hands were everywhere.

Sliding up your thighs. Digging into your waist. Claiming, possessing, reminding.

You shouldn’t let this happen. You should push him away, tell him to leave, remind yourself why you ran in the first place.

But you didn’t.

Because the moment his lips crashed against yours again—hot, desperate, hungry—you were already gone.

Thanos groaned into your mouth, his hands gripping the back of your thighs as he pulled you flush against him. You could feel him—hard, needy, pressing against the seam of your jeans like he’d been craving this as much as you had.

“Fuck,” he muttered against your lips. “You’re still so fucking perfect.”

Your breath hitched as his hands slid under your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist before pushing up, dragging the fabric with them. You arched into his touch, and he wasted no time yanking your shirt over your head, tossing it aside before his mouth was on you again.

His lips found your neck, kissing, sucking, biting. He wanted to mark you. Wanted you to remember who you belonged to.

You gasped as his hands unclipped your bra, letting it fall away before he palmed your breasts, thumbs circling your nipples.

“You missed me,” he murmured, his teeth scraping against your pulse point. “Didn’t you?”

You refused to answer.

So he punished you.

His mouth moved lower, trailing over your collarbone, down your sternum, until he was sucking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue flicking over the sensitive peak.

A whimper escaped your lips before you could stop it.

That made him grin.

“Yeah,” he muttered, kissing his way down your stomach as his hands made quick work of your jeans. “That’s what I thought.”

Your jeans hit the floor. Your panties followed. And then he was kneeling in front of you, his mouth inches from where you ached for him most.

You clenched your thighs together, but he pried them apart easily, gripping your knees as he looked at you.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, his thumb teasing over your slit. “Did I do that?”

You shuddered.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I fucking did.”

And then his mouth was on you.

You choked on a gasp, your back arching as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow and deliberate. He groaned against you, as if he had been starving for this, as if he had missed the taste of you like a man deprived.

He sucked your clit into his mouth, and you nearly screamed.

Your hands shot to his hair, gripping, tugging, trying to ground yourself against the overwhelming pleasure.

He loved it.

“Hold on to me,” he muttered against your heat before diving back in, eating you out like he wanted to ruin you.

Your legs trembled. Your body burned.

And when he slipped two fingers inside you, curling them just right—fuck.

“Come for me,” he ordered, his voice hoarse.

You did.

Your body locked up, pleasure crashing over you in waves as he worked you through your orgasm, sucking, licking, owning you.

When you finally slumped against the counter, breathless, he pulled back—his lips glossy, his eyes dark, his smirk filthy.

“Not done with you yet, sweetheart,” he murmured, unbuckling his belt.

And the moment he pulled his cock out, thick and hard and aching, you knew you were in trouble.

Because you weren’t going to stop this.

Not tonight.

Not when he was looking at you like he would die if he didn’t have you.

And maybe—just maybe—you felt the same.

You sat on the counter, praying on one would come into the store, legs spread just for him. His cock pressed against your slick folds, teasing, sliding, waiting.

Without warning, he thrust inside you—deep, all of him, stretching you open in one slow, unbearable motion.

You gasped, your fingers digging into his shoulders as your body adjusted to the thick, perfect burn of him.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his head falling forward, forehead pressed against yours. “You’re still so fucking tight.”

You clenched around him in response, just to be a brat.

His grip on your thighs tightened.

“Don’t start.” His voice was strained, barely in control. “Or I won’t be nice.”

You smirked. “You’re never nice.”

He laughed—dark, low, wrecked.

And then he moved.

A slow pull out, a deep thrust back in, setting a brutal, punishing pace. Every snap of his hips slammed you against the counter, his hands gripping your waist, holding you still so he could take everything.

You were already unraveling, your body too overwhelmed, too sensitive from before. You felt everything—the drag, the stretch, the way he hit just right every time he bottomed out.

“Look at you,” he muttered, watching your face, watching every reaction. “Taking me so fucking well.”

You whimpered, your hands fisting in his hair, pulling him down for a kiss—sloppy, desperate, more teeth than lips.

He swallowed your moans, groaning as he fucked into you harder, faster. The counter shook beneath you, the sounds of skin slapping and breathless gasps filling the small, dimly lit gas station.

“Missed this pussy,” he muttered against your mouth. “Missed the way you squeeze me—fuck, baby—”

Your thighs clenched around his waist, locking him in, pulling him deeper.

His rhythm stuttered. His jaw clenched.

And then he lost it.

He grabbed you, yanking you against him, fucking you harder, chasing his release, chasing yours.

Your orgasm hit you fast, ripping through you like fire, your nails sinking into his back as you came with a broken cry.

He followed, his hips jerking, his breath ragged as he spilled inside you, filling you, owning you.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

Just panting. Clinging. Feeling.

Then, after a long pause, his lips brushed your ear.

“Told you,” he murmured, voice wrecked but smug.

You frowned. “Told me what?”

His teeth nipped your jaw, lazy, possessive.

“You can run,” he muttered, his hands sliding up your spine, his cock still buried deep inside you.

“But you can’t hide.”

[nameless-jamie]

I LOVE RED CARD!!! I'm hoping it can became a mini series inside a series 🥰🥰🥰 Can you write a continuation to the 1st part where Jamie finds put what Rupert said or maybe he overhears something he said about the PA and his recation? Sorry, I know it's not very specific 😅

Drabble - Retaliation (Red Card)

Read RED CARD first to understand!

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing, angry Jamie

A/N: Hiii I'm not really sure it has potential to become a mini series but I wrote the situation in which Jamie finds out what Rupert specifically said to Y/N and how he reacts. I hope you like it anyway. Time-wise it happens directly after Red Card.

Flashback to Red Card:

“Nah, nah, I’m just—” He shook his head, grinning. “You got sent off tryin’ to protect me.”

She rolled her eyes. “Don’t make it a thing.”

“Oh, it’s definitely a thing.” A really sexy thing. He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Admit it. You care about me.”

...

She huffed. “Oh, trust me. Next time, I’m throwing a punch.”

Jamie grinned. “Now that, love, I’d pay to see.”

...

Jamie had never been more turned on in his life.

It was bad. Really bad.

He was supposed to be the reckless one, the hothead, the one who got in trouble for letting his emotions get the better of him. But Y/N? His PA? The one who always rolled her eyes at him when he got mouthy on the pitch, who reminded him to “think before he acts” at least once a week?

Yeah. She had just gotten a red card.

And not just any red card. She had squared up to Rupert Mannion, called him a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man before getting ejected from the stadium.

Yup, they cleared it up, they talked it out, she cared about him. Jamie had talked to her in the locker room after the game and now it was time to go home. He was driving his little crazy assistant and they were walking to the parking lot.

“You,” he said, slow and deliberate, “are insane for that today.”

She groaned. “Jamie—”

“In a good way,” he clarified. “In a sexy way.”

She gaped at him. “That is not the point right now.”

“Yeah, well, I’m still processing,” Jamie said. “’Cause last I checked, I’m the one who does the dumb shit. Not you.”

Y/N huffed, dragging a hand through her hair. “It wasn’t dumb. It was warranted.”

Jamie narrowed his eyes. “What did he say anyway?”

She hesitated.

Jamie stepped closer. “What did he say, Y/N?”

Y/N exhaled, looking away. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does.”

She shook her head. “Jamie—”

“Tell me.”

Her jaw clenched. Then, finally, she sighed. "He said: What’s Jamie got you doing these days? Fetching his water? Maybe warming his bed? Then he said something about our relationship being a little inappropriate and some misogynistic comments followed, then I lashed out..."

amie’s vision blurred with rage.

“Jamie—”

He was already turning.

“Jamie.”

Her hands grabbed his arm before he could storm back into the stadium. He whirled back to her, jaw tight.

“I’ll kill him.”

“You won’t.”

Jamie scoffed. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t,” she shot back. “Because if you do, I’ll have to bail you out of jail, and I’ve had enough trouble for one night.”

Jamie clenched his fists. “He doesn’t get to talk about you like that.”

“I know,” she said. “That’s why I handled it.”

Jamie turned, looking down at her. “You shouldn’t have had to hear that,” he said, voice low. “Shouldn’t have had to deal with that.”

Jamie’s eyes flickered over her face, still hard with frustration.

She sighed. “Look, I appreciate the protectiveness, but you starting a fight with Rupert isn’t gonna change anything.”

Jamie tilted his head. “Yeah, but it’d make me feel a whole lot better.”

He exhaled again, calming himself. “You didn’t have to do that for me.”

Her gaze softened. “Yeah, I did.”

A beat.

Then Jamie smirked. “So… you called him a disgusting, pathetic excuse for a man?"

Her lips twitched. “Among other things.”

“Fuckin’ hell, love.” Jamie let out a low whistle. “I think I might be in love with you.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but her cheeks flushed. “Shut up.”

Jamie grinned. “Nah, but seriously—next time, at least let me get in a punch first, yeah?”

She sighed. “You’re impossible. Let it go, Jamie.”

Jamie sighed too. "Fuck, I'll try, will you come home with me, maybe watch a movie and chill. I need some company right now..."

"Always."

Jamie didn’t let it go.

Of course, he didn’t.

Y/N knew him well enough to expect it—the moment Jamie Tartt got something stuck in his head, there was no talking him out of it. And apparently, Rupert Mannion being a misogynistic prick about her was something Jamie was more than willing to go to war over.

She caught him that evening, leaning on his kitchen counter, phone in hand, eyes narrowed at the screen.

“Jamie.”

He didn’t look up. “One sec.”

“No, not one sec,” she said, snatching the phone from his grasp before he could react. She glanced at the screen. He’d been typing—no, retyping—a text to someone.

“Who’s this to?” she asked, scrolling up.

“Don’t—” Jamie made a grab for it, but she dodged, stepping out of reach. “Oi! Give it back, you little thief—”

Her eyes scanned the unsent message.

From Jamie Tartt: If I ever hear you talk about her like that again, I swear to fuck—

She scrolled further.

Jamie Tartt: I don’t care how much money you’ve got, you’re still a sad little man

Jamie Tartt: Watch your fucking mouth, old man.

Y/N sighed, locking the screen and shoving the phone into her back pocket. “Jesus, Jamie.”

“What?” He threw his hands up. “Bloke’s a twat. He deserves it.”

“I know that,” she said, exasperated. “But sending him angry texts isn’t gonna do shit except make you look unhinged.”

Jamie scoffed. “Unhinged? I’ll show you unhinged, love. I was about ten seconds away from driving to West Ham’s training ground and dealing with him properly.”

She stared at him. “You mean fighting him?”

Jamie lifted a shoulder. “Not fight fight. Just… you know.” He made a vague punching motion. “Maybe a little slap. He’s old, innit? Wouldn’t take much.”

Y/N groaned, rubbing her temples. “You’re impossible.”

Jamie huffed. “I should’ve done something. Back when he said it. Should’ve knocked him on his arse right there.”

She looked up at him then, properly looked. Jamie wasn’t just pissed—he was guilty.

“Jamie,” she said, softer now. “You did do something. You supported me."

“Yeah, but I didn’t even know what he said.” His jaw tensed. “If I had—”

“You’d be serving a five-game, by now.” she finished.

Jamie exhaled sharply. “It weren’t even about football. He was just bein’ a prick, just tryna put you down ‘cause you’re—”

He cut himself off.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. “Because I’m what?”

Jamie swallowed. “Because you’re you.”

Something passed between them. Something unspoken but heavy.

Jamie shifted, glancing away, scuffing his boot against the floor. “Look, all I’m sayin’ is—if he ever talks about you like that again, I will do something about it. Don’t care if I get fined, don’t care if I get benched. Just so we’re clear.”

Y/N bit her lip. “You really would fight him, wouldn’t you?”

Jamie met her gaze. “Yeah.” His voice was quiet. “Yeah, I would. As far as we know you would too, love.”

Y/N didn’t know what to say to that.

So instead, she reached into her pocket, pulled out his phone, and handed it back.

“No more angry texts.”

Jamie sighed, stuffing the phone into his hoodie. “Fine.”

“Good.”

A beat.

Then Jamie smirked. “I’ll just send him a really sarcastic fruit basket instead.”

Y/N groaned. “Jamie.”

“Oi, that’s classy retaliation, that is.”

She rolled her eyes, but she was smiling. “Come on, dumbass. I’ll buy you dinner before you come up with any more terrible ideas.”

Jamie grinned. “You are my favorite, y’know that?”

“Yeah, yeah,” she muttered, shoving him playfully. “You better start behaving, or I might switch teams.”

Jamie’s smirk faltered for a split second.

Then, before she could register it, he was grabbing her wrist, tugging her just slightly closer, his voice dropping.

“Not funny, love.”

Y/N blinked.

Jamie held her gaze, a flicker of something serious in his expression. But before she could say anything, he let go, stepping back with an easy grin.

“Right,” he said, stretching. “What we havin’ for dinner?”

Y/N exhaled, pushing away whatever that moment was. “Anything except fruit baskets.”

Jamie chuckled. “Shame. Would’ve been a great fruit basket.”

As they walked out together, Y/N knew one thing for sure:

Rupert Mannion may have been a smug bastard—

But Jamie Tartt?

He was a dangerous one.

[wannabeschyulersister]

a big question

“You’ve been unusually quiet today. It’s strange. What’s on your mind?” You asked, growing weary of the silence.

Pedro took a deep breath, “There’s something that I want to talk to you about.”

“Oh my God! Are you breaking up with me?” you blurted out, “Is it because of the small scratch I accidentally got on your car? I’m so sorry! I didn’t notice that pole and-“

Pedro swiftly reached over and grasped your hand. “(Y/n), take a deep breath. Don’t worry, Amor. I’m not breaking up with you. I would be foolish to let you go.”

His words had a calming effect on your heart. With each deep breath, your anxiety gradually faded.

“Sorry, then what is it?”

Pedro still held your hand, gently rubbing it with his thumb. “I’d love to spend more time with you. It feels like we haven’t seen each other in ages.”

His words touched your heart. You both had been swamped with work lately, with Pedro about to start filming the first movie in what you could guess would be a long series.

You were in the thick of filming season two of a drama series on Hulu. There were already whispers of it getting renewed for seasons three and four. You were over the moon about the job security, but it came at a price - it strained your relationship.

Pedro was off filming overseas for a few months in a matter of weeks, while you’d be stuck in New York. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have the same worries as him.

“I want to spend more time with you too, babe. I could be in London as soon as we wrap filming. I think I’d have at least three weeks free before anything else pops up.”

“And I’ll enjoy every minute of you joining me…”

“But?” It seemed like he had something else on his mind.

Pedro looked down at your intertwined hands and said, “I don’t want you to panic about what I’m about to ask you.”

You managed to suppress your “freak out” until he posed his question.

“I know we’ve discussed taking things at our own pace and not letting other people’s timelines influence our relationship.”

You nodded and softly said, “Yeah.”

“But I believe we’re ready for the next phase. (Y/n), I want you to move in with me.”

You reached over and gently shoved his good shoulder, causing him to budge slightly. “That’s it?!”

Pedro chuckled at your reaction, “What do you mean?”

“I’m over here thinking that I’m about to be dumped!”

He reached over and grabbed your other hand as well, “I apologize for the scare. What are your thoughts? Would you like to move in with me? I would love to wake up next to you every day. I would love to see more of your things around this place.”

“You could’ve asked in a better way.” You mumbled jokingly.

“Amor!” Pedro laughed, “Is that a yes or a no?”

You stood from your seat and walked around the table. He pulled you onto his lap, pressing a tender kiss to your neck.

“Yes, I’d love to move in with you, Pedro.”

You sealed your answer with a sweet kiss from the man you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life with.

Pedro ended the kiss way too soon, “Wait, did you say you scratched my car?”

[pedrosyouknowwhat]

Who owns you?

Summary: You fall from grace as a group of raiders destroy your lavish community, taking in you as a macabre spoil of war

warnings: Dead dove do not eat, noncon, murder of unnamed characters (community), kidnapping, man handling, gang bang (not in this chapter but yeah), humiliation, virginity loss, reader being basically a sex slave, unprotected p in v, threats, darkness overall

Pairings: Dark! Joel Miller x reader, Dark! Javier Peña x reader, Dark! Marcus Acacius x reader, Dark! Oberyn Martell x reader, Dark! Agent Whiskey x reader, Dark! Dieter Bravo x reader, Dark! Frankie Morales x reader

series masterlist

Your boots padded on the uneven ground as your heart hammered on your chest, what was left of your community rising in flames. Once the habitat of the most prosperous survivors of the Cordyceps outbreak, reduced to ashes and death; and you, it's only remain.

You didn't even know of what you were running from, just doing it the second the alarms went off; it meant chaos, worse, Raiders.

That was what spared you. Your short flowy dress snagged on branches, red cowboy boots that were mostly a fashion statement proving themselves not ideal as you stumbled face first into the cold, sharp ground.

"What do we got here?" You heard a thick accent drawl, and your shivering body jolts your head upwards. A man, wearing a thin striped shirt and a thick, beige vest; His eyes are shaded by dark sunglasses and all that is recognizable is a thick mustache and a curved nose. "Are you alright?"

The rifle on his hand looks at you threateningly, as you retreat on bruised knees; The man takes off his glasses, realizing how intimidating he looked. "Oh-I'm sorry sweetheart, didn't mean to scare you."

You slowed your movements, gazing up at him, studying him. His chuckle still pulled at his lips softly. "I-I, My home-My home is being invaded by raiders."

You spluttered, and his eyes soften in understatement, body crouching to lift you off the ground. His arms were strong and tanned, and the way his hands wrapped around your arms gave your mind the slight fuzziness of comfort.

"Anyone with you?" He asked, his accent so foreign, you shook your head. "Alright, let me take you somewhere safe, mhm? can you tell me slowly what happened? My name's Javi, by the way"

You nodded, mouth blabbering everything you could remember, from the siren to the gunshots ringing to the fire; his hands never leaving your skin as he softly nudged you to follow him. He cooed at you, face scrunch in worry.

You didn't realize you were walking back into camp until the smoke hit your nose, making your head snap around wildly.

"Javi?" You ask, the name sounding bitterly in your tongue as you see him, lips pressed into a thin line to suppress laughter. Panic fuels into you as you see the group of men, thrashing the city. The boutiques, the stores, everything you knew.

Their gaze fall on you. Slowly, one by one, as they arise from the remains of your town; they are like walking dead, eyes hungry. You realized Javi's grip on you had become tighter, stopping you from moving.

His laughter rings in your ear as his arms envelop you, making it harder to breath. The man around you crowd closer, and you see flashes of your faces as the fear of the imminent swoons over you. You faint, knowing as soon as your eyes shut together that you are going to regret it.

The man, Javi, holds you tightly as you feel your knees buckle and your vision starts to swim. His strong arms keep you upright, even as the world around you begins to spin and darken at the edges.

Javi's voice reaches your ears, muffled and distant, as if he's speaking to you from the bottom of a deep well. "Easy there, sweetheart. I got you. You're safe now."

As your vision fades and your consciousness slips away, the last thing you see is the leering, hungry faces of the men surrounding you, their eyes glinting with a predatory light. The last thing you hear is Javi's low, rumbling chuckle, filled with a dark amusement that sends a shiver of dread down your spine.

The world goes black as you slip into unconsciousness, your mind reeling with the horrors you've witnessed and the unknown dangers that lie ahead. In the back of your fading consciousness, a small voice whispers a warning - that you may have escaped one nightmare only to stumble into an even darker one.

When you wake up, the first thing you see is an unfamiliar wooden roof; your muscles ache as you attempt to move, the hard mahogany floor hard against your spine, as if the soft blanket sprawled beneath you was non-existent.

"Finally." An unknown, Texan-accented voice sang; your head whipped painfully to see him. Your heart picked up, as behind the man were more.

You had seen him before; he stopped by your camp for food once. You cringed as you recalled how the townspeople turned him away, asking him if perhaps yesterday scraps were good enough for him.

“Feral stray” they had called him.

You remember getting a peek out of him, by the gates, his broad shoulders and pepper and salt hair branded into your mind.

Close behind him another man stood, same greyed hair, though he looked taller and held a scar along his cheekbone; his face was scrunched up, but his eyes told a different tale.

And then was Javi; you wanted to scoff as your mind recognized the nickname he told you to call him. He had taken off his sun glasses, dark eyes sliding up your face as he held a pleased grin, proud of his little catch.

You couldn’t get a proper look to the rest of the men as the “feral stray” spoke once again.

“Fuck, she looks terrified.” He commented, though no pity took place in his tone; a deep growl that warmed his skin.

You accessed the situation; they were bigger, stronger and more than you, but they stilled in their place, eyes raking slowly and precisely over your shivering form. You weren’t tied up, just laying there, and if you ignored hard enough the way Javi-Javier- had grabbed you before you fainted, there could be a simmering chance they were truly trying to help you.

“I-I-“ You staggered, but your brain couldn’t think of one thing to say in this situation. You planted your hands on the floor as you pulled yourself to sit up.

A breeze ruffled your skirt, and you eyes widened, feeling an unfamiliar chill in your core. A hand shot to your thighs, fingers gracing your most intimate place that you found bare.

“Looking for this?” Another men spoke, far more rough looking than the rest as he held your panties in his ringed finger. He laughed, eyes narrowing under brown tinted sunglasses.

Your hope was out the window, and you wished you’d be out the window too.

“I-please,” you managed to croak out, your best fake smile pulling at your teeth, as if attempting to back away. “I-I don’t want trouble.”

You suddenly weren’t a girl trapped in a house with seven men, but a highly esteemed comedian as the room erupted in laughter.

“Trouble?” One of them repeated, the one who looked the youngest, with short dark hair and a trimmed beard that shaded around his jaw; he gripped his dark yellow shirt as he cackled.

“Little girly doesn’t want trouble!” a thick, cow-boyish accent hollered as he took off his hat and pressed it against his chest.

You didn’t know if to laugh along or to cry, so your gazed fixed itself on the only one who wasn’t laughing; “feral stray”.

His glare was set on you, and you prayed and prayed he wouldn’t remember you, stealing a glance of him through the watch tower as the Community leader sent him away.

“That’s a pity,” He sighed, words profound and careful. “cause we do want trouble.”

With two long strides of his strong kegs he was besides you, looking down at you. Your mouth clamped as you pleaded with your eyes, tears kissing the brim.

Seven men.

One you.

Trapped in a house.

They were going to kill you.

Raiders were ruthless, never to be messed with, at least that’s what your community taught you, and by the cold, dark eyes that were posed on you, you knew then that it was true.

Stories flood your mind, murders, vandalism, theft, but never rape, despite it being the only reasonable thing this bunch would want to do to you. You had never heard about it.

“Please,” you attempted once more, hands sliding you away as they become clammy against the hardwood floor. “I-I’m no good, I’m a virgin, please-”

Their laughter dulled at your words, not suddenly, but intriguingly. You could hear some groans, some “sweet jesus” under their breathes.

“Feral Stray” bent at his waist, knees popping with effort as he reached his hard, calloused hand to grace your cheek.

“You know what they called me?” He asked.

Feral stray.

And he waited for you to answer, but you couldn’t. It was like kicking a bear that was already mauling you.

His fingers laced between the threads of your hair, still fresh from your expensive shampoo. You see his muscles flexing before you feel the stinging pain across your scalp. He tugs harder.

"You know what they called me, your stuck up, bitchy community?" He growled, and you whimpered. "Come on, pretty girl, give me the answer."

You felt as if he was going to rip out your hair, and you feared he might do it. Your neck craned painfully, looking at his furious face as a small trace of mockery, amusement was hid in his dark eyes.

"F-feral stray." You mumbled, barely above a whisper.

"Louder!" He screamed, the sound ringing in your ears as his face etched closer. You felt hot tears cascading down your cheeks, blurring the vision of the men in front of you.

"Feral Stray!" You yelped, as loud as the knot in your throat allowed you to say it. The grip stayed tight, pain blooming to your temples along the dull thump thump thump of a headache.

Suddenly you were pushed face first, your hands rapidly supporting you against the hard floor. You sighed, no longer feeling the head-exploding tension in your scalp.

A pair of hands pulled your hips up, forcing you to support them on your wobbly knees. Your head hung low, tears wetting the blanket beneath you.

"look who's the dog now," The man chuckled, a hand running over the expanse of your back. You sobbed at his words through ragged, half filling breathes. "that's it now, little puppy, come on now, bark."

Shame filled your cheeks as you slowly turned to look at him, pleading silent eyes, begging for it to be a joke. But he looked sternly at you, hand gripping your waist.

"Boss said to bark, puppy." The second eldest said, the one with the white t-shirt and the scar.

You couldn't bring yourself to do it.

"Seems like we got a disobedient one," Javi teased, boots etching closer to your line of sight. You dared to look up, look him in the eyes. "Bark baby, or you're gonna get in a lot of trouble."

His eyes looked slightly softer, still hungry and disturbed, but for a moment you had a deja vu of how he found you, even thought it was mere hours ago. The dusking sky outside told you so.

"P-please," You whispered to him, feeling the urge to cling to his leg. "please don't make me."

A grin tugged at his lips as he let out an amused breathe.

"There there," He cooed. "Not disobedient, just shy, am I right?"

Your head seemed to be locked in place as you attempt to nod at him.

"Well, she can't be shy when I'm asking her to suck my balls." The one who was holding your panties blurted; if you were looking at him you would have realized he had done a line of coke off of them.

"Patience, Dieter." The youngest one reprimanded him. "We can't expect a highborn girl to act so whorish on our whims."

"Like any good mare, just needs to be broken in." The cowboy one joked, making them laugh.

It felt so dystopian, how they joked about the situation. They could joke about it, while you stood shivering like a leaf.

"Don't get too excited," The scarred one spoke, with the regality of a Roman Emperor. "Boss is going to be the one to deflower her."

It irked you now, the casualness of all of it. The way they spoke of you like if you were merely a piece of meat, an animal even. Your knuckles turn white as you clutched the fabric beneath you, the warm blossoming from "Boss'" hand now unbearable.

"Do I even get a say?" You barked, immediately clamping your lips shut.

There were no slaps, no hair tugs, no pushes. All seven cold gazes directed to you. The hand on your back shifted towards your ass.

"Glad you asked," He grunted, kneeling behind your body as his immense back roamed over your flesh like a silent threat. "You don't."

You bit your lips as his touch became more demanding, kneading handfuls of flesh as he slowly pulled your thighs apart, your knees giving in. He hummed as he looked at you, and you never felt as bare.

If you looked forward, you could see the other men, hands wandering over their legs as they observed the scene, and if you looked backwards, you would see the look in his eyes. You opted to look down, the sound of zippers going down and Feral Stray's groans filling your ears.

"Haven't properly introduced myself," He spoke, pulling your ass cheeks apart and a breathless gasp from your lips. "Name's Joel; but you won't be calling me that."

You sensed an interchange of glances before Joel's fingers slipped once again into the hair at your nape, touch so gentle it almost cooled the sting of the previous grip, and pulled you up to face the men.

"Marcus." The one with the scar grunted, feeling your gaze on him.

Before you could continue to stare at him, the youngest one shifted “Oberyn.” he said, smirking.

“Whiskey.” The cowboy huffed, though you could tell it wasn’t his name. Not that it mattered as you felt Joel paw at your flesh.

“Dieter Bravo,” the coke-snorting one said, pulling up his sun glasses. “you may know me from the movies, did a shit ton of them back before the world went to shit-“

“Not now.” Joel bellowed, annoyed. His hands skimmed up and down your thighs, as if warming you from the biting cold.

Your eyes shifted to the one at the back of the room, the one wearing a baseball cap. He was deadly silent, had been all the time; you wouldn’t have noticed him if Javier wouldn’t have moved out of the way.

As they traced your stare, he lifted his eyes from the thing-looked like a toy helicopter- he had been fidgeting with. “Catfish.” He huffed, uneasy, returning his attention to the toy.

Silence wavered, only broken by your gasp as you felt one thick, calloused finger traced your slit. Fresh tears sprung as your neck gave out, once again facing the floor.

Two thumbs pulled your lips apart, exposing your most vulnerable oar to Joel; a deep seated growl roared through his chest as he observed.

"Gonna take your time?" Javier asked, leaning against the mossy green wall.

You felt his finger delve between your folds, touch warm as he pushed a little dipper; a soft whimper escaped you as he finally pressed a pointer finger at the top of your slit.

"Just this once." Joel muttered, deep in thought as he begun circling your nerve, weakening your elbows as your body urged you to lean forwards. Your nails dig into the wooden floor, urging you to stay up.

Their eyes, pairs of dark brown eyes posed on you, each glimpse of fresh skin they could get, your chest heaving and shining softly with a new layer of sweet, your jean jacket becoming unbearable under their hot gaze. Shame, shame warmed you up too.

They noticed, the dampness beading on your skin, cheeks red and heavy pants. How could they not? they were staring at your every move, how you shivered with Joel's swift touches on your clit, how you clamped your lips tightly, everything. If one wouldn't notice, at least the over five would.

"Getting warm there, honey?" Oberyn wondered, and you refused to meet his eyes.

"I think she is, why not shed a layer?" Whiskey teased, the low fap fa fap getting louder. It cringed in your ears.

"Acacius." Joel commanded, your brows furrowing, questioning if you had forgotten a name, or if there were more of them.

Your question was answered when Marcus thick thighs appeared in your vision, only recognizable by his worn down grey jeans. He pulled the jacket down your shoulders, the movement brief but forceful enough to let a small sound that you had withhold, all due to Joel's unwavering touch on your clit. He lifted one arm, gently, slipping the oversize denim off as you supported yourself in his scarred arm. The men almost moaned at the sigh of more exposed skin, and he finally pulled off the jacket.

He lifted himself on his knees, bulging crotch grazing against your forehead as you felt a tug on the soft cotton dress. Your head shot up, stuttering your words.

"P-please."

You didn't even know what you were begging for, an unfamiliar heat spreading through your core to your belly and to every bit of flesh you owned.

He looked down through almost black eyes, continuing to tug the fabric off your body until it came to your armpits. You wouldn't budge, hoping to sympathize with any trace of humanity in him.

For a few seconds he stopped, and you almost let out a sigh of relief as he dropped the dress; but then, his hands gripped around the hemline of the arm holes and a powerful screech of fabric ran through the air. After that, he continued ripping through the dress until it pooled beneath your quivering form.

The only thing you still had on was a flimsy bralette and your red cowboy boots.

Dieter commented something about it matching, but your mind race to the feeling of Joel pulling his hand away.

"This too?" Acacius-Marcus-you didn't even know now- asked, pulling at the clasp of your bra.

"Yes." One of them sighed, not Joel. He didn't break it, just let it slide off your arms.

The scene was almost ridiculous, clad in only fashionable boots, but it got them going. A palm smoothed down your shoulder blades, forcing your chest into the blanket and your discarded clothes. Before much warning, you felt two thick digits sink into your hole.

You cried, whining, trying to get away, but the hand was pressed to firm and in front of you Marcus still was there, working his belt buckle off. The sting opened your walls, and his pace was deliberately strong; in and out, against the sloppy holes that pushed tightly.

"Easy," He chastised, pace never faltering. "Gonna hurt more if you fight it."

You obeyed silently, fingers twisting against the floor, the sound of skin slapping skin growing louder as Acacius shifted beside you. You clenched your eyes, wishing to ignore everything as Joel sawed his fingers in and out of you.

The pain diminished, briefly, and your hand slapped against your mouth to stifle any pleasurable sound. He chose to scissor his fingers inside of you, preparing you for the inevitable.

It was normal it felt good, you knew that, that the way he was touching you was meant to feel good, but still shame crept over you as a coil begun tightening in your lower belly, cunt eager to take it in deeper.

Despite your efforts, whimpers and breathy moans escaped your palm, brows furrowed in submission as you felt him pull out his fingers, thighs shivering and rubbing to dissipate the pleasure that had struck you.

It lasted little, for the hot tip of his cock begun pressing against your entrance. You snapped out, grabbing Acacius thighs in order to get away as your hips were held prisoner in his hands.

"N-No, no please," You whimpered, but the other pair of hands tugged at your forearms, pulling you up to face him. With a steel grip, he forced you to plant your arms over his shoulder, back stretching and twisting as Joel pushed you onto his length.

"Hold-fuck-still," He grunted, pushing a girthy inch. Face inches apart from Acacius, you couldn't evade his glare as his hands clamped on your forearms. You stalled, getting lost in the enigma that held his face.

You pursed your lips as Joel brought you down further on his cock, pain irradiating from your core as he stretched you. As you attempted to move, Acacius held onto you with a force that told you he could dislodge your arms if he wanted to. From over his shoulder you saw blurry visions, the other men stroking their cocks, eyes like hyenas waiting for left overs.

The pain was unbearable, growing each time as you felt yourself being ripped apart by his cock, groans and moans were chanted in your ears, forcing you to take it.

"Fuck," He grunted, voice lost in pleasure. "So-fucking-tight."

He punctuated his words sheathing more of it into your core, though you felt as if you couldn't take more, as if he was fucking all the way to your guts. Your cunt clamped on his cock.

Acacius doesn't let up, his grip on your arms tightening as he forces you down further, impaling you on Joel's massive shaft. The pain is blinding, your walls screaming as they're stretched beyond their limits, forced to accommodate his incredible girth.

Joel grunted, his face contorted in pleasure, lost in the tight, wet heat of your core. His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, holding you in place as he continued to thrust, driving his cock deeper with each powerful surge.

As Acacius leaned closer, his breath hot and heavy against your face. His eyes, dark and intense, bore into yours, holding you captive in their gaze. "Take it, you fucking slut," he growls, his voice rough and demanding. "Take his fucking cock like the greedy little whore you are."

The other men watch, stroking their own hard shafts, their eyes gleaming with sadistic lust. They enjoy the show, reveling in your suffering and Joel's pleasure. The room is filled with the crude sounds of flesh slapping against flesh, guttural moans, and your own cries.

Joel's thrusts become more forceful, more punishing. He's chasing his pleasure, using your body for his own gratification. The pain is overwhelming, tears streaming down your face as you feel yourself being split open, ripped apart by his relentless assault. Acacius smirks at your tears, his grip on your arms not loosening even for one second. 

"Fuck, she's gripping me so tight," Joel groans, his words punctuated by a particularly hard thrust. "Gonna... fuck... fill this cunt up..."

Acacius' fingers dig into your soft flesh hard enough to leave bruises, holding you mercilessly in place as Joel uses you like a fuck toy. Your body jerks and bounces with each violent thrust, your tits swaying hypnotically to the hungry hyenas.

"Look at them, whore," Acacius hisses, nodding towards the circle of men fisting their cocks, their eyes wild with lust and greed. "Look at how much they want to ruin your holes too. They're going to love wrecking your sloppy cunt after Joel's done flooding it with cum."

Joel lets out a guttural roar, his fingers sinking into your hips, leaving finger-shaped bruises. Your vision blurs as he hilts inside you with a final, brutal thrust, his heavy balls slapping against your clit. At the same time, his cock throbs and pulses, erupting deep inside your core.

"Fuck, fuck, fuuuccckkk..." he bellows, his hot seed flooding against your unprotected womb, painting your insides white. Your stomach bulges slightly from the sheer volume of his release.

Acacius' grip becomes loose as your body shivers, loosing strength with each final thrust Joel gives you. Soon enough, you cascade down his body, head laying weakly against his thigh as his open zipper rubs against your cheek. Your aching muscles betray you,

"There, there," Joel cooed, almost mockingly as his hand raise shivers along your spine. Your eyes become blurry as all you can hear is the men chasing their release and pain slowly overtakes your body, leaving you numb, almost lifeless. You found a strange sense of comfort from the warmth emanating between Acacius' legs, almost as if you wanted to curl up closer, but suddenly, you were pealed off by a sharp grip on your hair.

"Fuck, gonna cum in this throat-"

It all happened so quickly, but the one in the back, the only one who wasn't jerking off to all of this, shot up, stopping Javier with a harsh "WAIT" that shook the room. Hands slowed down, and gazes shot to him.

Catfish, he had said, rubbed his face in distraught as he hesitated his next words.

"Let her sleep, it's her first night."

You weren't focused on the laughs and hollers, but in Javi's leaking shaft mere inches from your lips; you have never seen one so close, each vein and ridge and it's pink tip, it's musky scent filling your nose.

"Awww," Dieter teased, pumping his cock with your underwear. "so sweet little Frankie, let the slut sleep huh?"

The Cowboy, Whiskey, chuckled. "Look at your pants boy, you are no better than us-"

"Alright." Joel cut them short, standing behind you. "She can sleep tonight, not gonna get much sleep in the next days..."

Tag list:

@tateypots

[oatmealwrites]

Catch Kira, NOT Feelings! Ch. 6

Ch. 5 | Ch. 7 -> coming soon!

[series masterlist here]

[regular masterlist here]

Synopsis: Light is a master manipulator as per usual and quickly becomes suspicious of your 'relationship' with Ryuzaki. While a storm prevents him from coming to the task force meeting, the team locks in to the potential identity of Misa Amane being the Second Kira and what that means for all of your safety. Knowing that Light may be attempting to drive a wedge between you both, Ryuzaki asks you about the other things that couples do which might assist in convincing your task force colleagues that 'this' was real. The only issues? You're now convinced it may be becoming real too.

Tags: Light is a manipulator, you feel guilty af for lying to your team members, suggestive, mentions of sex, hair tugging, french kissing, dry humping, male erection, female arousal, mentions of masturbation, it's getting hot n heavy, MDNI, NSFW, 18+

Word Count: 10.7 k (SORRY)

a/n at end! enjoy~

~~~~~~

LIGHT POV

Light sits languidly at his desk, twirling his pen and furrowing his brows at his course materials that sit open before him. It’s late, long past 11pm and Misa has already left to go back home; a steady rain taps against his window as he enjoys the lack of company for the first time in a while. Ryuk’s presence doesn’t count anymore; he hovers in the air enjoying the sight of lightning that flashes with each roar of thunder, unamused as Light doesn’t give him any attention.

“You’re awfully quiet tonight.” Ryuk observes, turning to face the man.

Light sighs slightly, stopping the twirl of his pen and resting his cheek in the fat of his palm. “I’m thinking.”

Ryuk doesn’t say anything, but hovers closer to the desk and observes the way Light’s textbook remains open to the same page it was turned to 30 minutes ago. He’s seen Light calm and quiet with his thoughts before, but there’s an eerie demeanor to the way he sits that leaves Ryuk feeling eager to cure his boredom.

Light sits up a bit straighter when Ryuk reaches past him to grab an apple from the bowl his mother delivered earlier. “They’re faking it.”

Ryuk doesn’t stop his motion, popping the apple into his mouth and crunching loudly. “Hmm? Oh! You mean L and y/n?”

“Yes.” Light’s voice is curt and cold.

The shinigami over his shoulder pays no mind and continues chewing with his mouth open. “Mmm you must’ve been observing them very closely the other day to figure that out. Hehehe.”

Light doesn’t bother to entertain Ryuk’s suggestive teasing and rolls his eyes as the laughter behind his shoulder bellows loudly for only him to hear. Picking up his pen once more, he twirls it on his fingers again.

“Ok, but why does this matter so much? It’s not like it prevents you from killing people–”

“It prevents me from killing her.” Light interrupts.

The tone is harsh and quick, startling Ryuk as thunder roars beyond the glass patio door. Standing up and taking chunks of hair in his fingers, Light pulls slightly in frustration as his Shinigami companion watches in interest. 

“But I thought you wanted her on your side if you were to be caught. Why would you kill her now?”

Light sighs, releasing the grasp on his hair and looks at Ryuk. “I don’t want to, she’s committed no crime– but…” He looks down at his desk, the death note sitting neatly underneath his textbook. “If she’s going to stand in the way of a God… then I have no choice.”

Ryuk hums in better understanding and reaches to grab another apple from the basket, watching the way Light seems to work out a variety of situations in his head. 

“Mmm I see. And because she’s dating L suddenly, it puts her in an important spot at his side.”

Light scowls and runs a frustrated hand through his hair once more. “Yes, and only those in the task force know about it, meaning Ryuzaki has effectively guaranteed her safety! If she dies now, after no field work besides being with me, it’s a nail in my coffin!”

Light takes his textbook and throws it onto his bed, seething in anger as Ryuk enjoys the entertainment before him. 

“Damn him! He thinks he can just do whatever he wants… but I’ll show him– No! I’ll show the whole task force that ‘relationship’ is a fraud.” Light stands in the center of his room, shaking as he speaks and it makes Ryuk question the soundproofing of the walls. “Then, I’ll kill her. Right in front of him…. hehe..hahahaHAHAHA”

Ryuk pops the core of the fruit into his mouth and licks the juice running from the corner of his lips. “Mmm, I bet Misa will like the fact there’s no competition either.”

Light stops laughing and peers at the Shinigami before rolling his eyes. “Not like she matters much anyways– I’ll find a way to have her kill L and then I’ll deal with her and Rem afterwards.”

Walking back to the desk, he sits in the chair and looks at the way the death note now sits unhidden on the surface; he pulls out a regular notepad and grabs a mechanical pencil.

“But first I need to figure out how to prove this ‘relationship’ is fake… and maybe, if y/n kneels before the altar of Kira in submission, I’ll show her mercy. I mean if the task force votes to remove her for the egregious violation of trust, it’ll put her in a vulnerable spot for where to put her faith…” He taps his pencil tip to the paper a few times in idle thought. “But first– I need to figure out why Ryuzaki would go this far just to protect her.”

Ryuk takes the empty fruit bowl and shakes it upside down, grunting at the fact there were no more apples left for him to enjoy. A lightning strike draws his attention back outside before he speaks to the young man again. “Maybe he’s just a good boss.”

Light scoffs and twirls his mechanical pencil in a similar fashion to how he did the pen earlier. “Yea right. The hours he makes everyone work, the secrecy of everything– even Ukita died on the job. So it doesn’t make sense he would do any special treatment for someone... He even sent Matsuda and I to Aoyama with no hesitation so–”

Light cuts himself off and stares down at the notepad in awe as Ryuk watches two drops of rain race down the glass door, silently rooting for the left one to reach the bottom first. When thunder echoes outside he notices the lack of Light’s voice and turns back around. 

“Wait, you stopped talking. What happened?”

Light doesn’t say anything; his head hangs low and his shoulders jerk as a few chuckles escape his lips in an erratic manner. The light giggles turn into a fit of laughter as he throws his neck back and squints his eyes shut in humor. Feeling left out of an inside joke Ryuk ushers forward. 

“What? Whaaat? Tell me.”

A hand on his forehead as the laughter slows down, Light looks down at his notepad. “Ahhh. It’s not fake at all, is it Ryuzaki?!”

Ryuk scrunches his face and looks at the man with irritation growing evident; he wants to be entertained, not left out. He lifts a hand and scratches his face in confusion. “You don’t make sense… just a moment ago you said the relationship was staged.”

Light wipes a tear from his eyes and spins in his chair to sit with better posture as he drafts a variety of notes onto the paper. “The whole thing is fake– just not to him.”

Ryuk doesn’t say anything, not bothering to ask for proof as he knows the human in front of him will run his mouth and explain it anyways. On cue, Light taps his paper with the pencil as he opens his mouth once more. 

“I’ve known y/n longer than he has, a fact that gets under his skin and also puts him at a severe disadvantage.” He taps a list of names on the paper— a list of your most recent exes he can remember. “In all the relationships I’ve seen her in, she’s never acted like this.”

Ryuk peers at the names with slight interest but remains silent. “She’s never done excessive PDA, and now they’re making out in public. She’s always separated her work and personal life, and now she’s dating her boss. She’s also been strapped for cash, and now she’s bringing him cookies. The whole thing reeks of trying to prove a point in an obvious and gaudy fashion.”

Peering at the bullet points of dating habits, Ryuk shrugs again, not quite on the same page. “So this proves it’s fake, right?”

“Fake to her.” Light corrects, spinning back in his chair to continue scribbling. 

“But Ryuzaki would never make such an attempt to protect anyone besides himself. Not letting her go to Aoyama, showing up on campus suddenly, projecting their ‘relationship’ makes so little rational sense.”

“That’s true. That guy is just as methodical and stuck up as you Light!” Ryuk chuckles at his own joke while the man rolls his eyes.

“Sure–” Light concedes with grit teeth. “But it also means that there’s no logical reason for him to do this.”

“Ok…? So why would he…?”

Light scoffs and raises an eyebrow himself. “It’s stupid really; to be honest I don’t know why he would do it for this reason anyways…”

Circling a word at the center of the page, he taps his pencil against the phrase with a confused and lost look in his eyes. ‘Love’ 

[Back at task force – Your POV]

“And based on this sentence,” you raise your finger to trace the highlighted portion of the printed transcript, “we can infer that the whole ‘sharing powers’ thing is greatly exaggerated.”

Matsuda awes next to you as you explain the linguistics behind the most recent piece of evidence from the Second Kira– an audio tape mailed to Sakura TV postmarked two days ago. The audio has been transcribed into a few sentences on the paper in your hands; the message stating the Second Kira will no longer make public statements within the name of ‘Kira’ and will do what they can to earn the approval of the God– offering to punish more criminals and even ‘share the power’ with other devoted followers.

You tap your finger and open the cap of your highlighter to mark another portion of the lines for underlying meanings; the wording seems like a combination of syntax from Kira and the Second. 

“Nice catch there…” Aizawa leans down to point to another line as you begin explaining a separate portion of the script. 

A light rain patters at the hotel windows as the lingering storm from last night refuses to let up; Ryuzaki sits at the coffee table across the room but his gaze remains on you at the kitchen counter. Aizawa and Matsuda flank both your sides as you calmly pick apart the printed transcript on the wooden surface; Light remains absent, still having another hour in his evening lecture before he rejoins the group. 

Matsuda ‘ooos’ once more when you stand up, having completed your interpretation of the message splayed in front of you. “Woa, that’s an impressive deduction… I can't believe I didn’t catch it.”

You shrug and trace the lines once more, pausing to summarize them. “Well, if Kira could pass their powers on to people, why would they have chosen someone they never met? You can’t ensure allegiance or ability– the whole thing would be too risky.”

Despite telling this to Matsuda and Aizawa, Ryuzaki sits across the room listening to every detail. “So the Second Kira wasn’t ‘chosen’ ; it also limits the likelihood they can pass their ‘powers’ down to others. This would mean they came into power naturally rather than through succession. Especially when you consider the ego of the first Kira.”

Matsuda nods in approval and Mr. Yagami signals for the groups to merge once again; he makes space for Ryuzaki to resume the joint meeting. Taking your usual spot on the couch, you watch the way L flicks the TV screen to show the written audio transcript.

“You had already told me your interpretation earlier, y/n– but hearing it again there’s a few points we need to discuss.”

The group hums and gathers their assorted documents, ready to listen to his suggestion. “We have to entertain the possibility that the murder…’weapon’ has the ability to be yielded by more than one person. And that this ‘power’ may be the reference within the message.”

You suck the inside of your cheek between your molars and reflect on the possibility; the fact no one has seen the murder weapon throws an uncomfortable wrench into the plan. A ‘power’ with the ability to kill with only a name and face certainly leans towards the divine and supernatural. You give a slight nod to Ryuzaki, the shared usage of ‘notebooks’ still remains private to only you.

The group remains silent in thought, everyone having no collective idea what the real cause of death could be. With a slight sigh, Ryuzaki scans the faces of the task force and turns to Mogi. “Regardless, it’s something important for everyone to keep in mind. Mogi, you have collected the forensics evidence, please divulge further.”

With an exhale, the man stands up and takes the remote from L before standing beside the TV screen and flipping to the next image.

“There were multiple traces of DNA on the tapes sent which caused some delays. Any postal service workers were filtered out upon looking at their work schedules which eventually left the evidence of two different women.”

He flips to an image of a woman you don’t recognize; her hair is cut short and splays in a variety of directions while her face adorns gothic makeup. “Her evidence showed up the most predominantly on the first few tapes. Saliva, finger prints, everything that would show her being the primary sender.”

Matsuda stands up excitedly. “So we got her! We got the Second Kira!”

“Not so fast.” Mr. Yagami leans back in his seat and motions for Matsuda to sit back down. “Please continue Mogi.”

The man coughs slightly and flips to the next image; a set of other video tapes litter the screen. “Her DNA didn’t match any criminal records, but it did match a series of occult videos sent to a variety of news stations. Most of them are fake or doctored as some sort of prank.”

Matsuda sinks slowly back down with a slight blush on his cheeks in embarrassment. 

Mogi flips to an image of the woman’s schedule. “Given her credit card statement, work schedule, and parental alibi… there’s limited room for her to commit any of the murders given the lack of time to access criminal information.”

Before the group can sigh in slight defeat, he flips to an image of another woman– one you recognize.

“Hey. I know her…” You sit upright and examine the doll-like face of the girl on the screen.

L leans in slightly, his face holds intrigue but the slight tremor in his body language hints a bit of anxiety. “Have you seen her on campus?”

You shake your head and examine her face another moment before turning to the group. “No, nothing like that. She’s a model I’m pretty sure… and she’s been in a few movies.”

Ryuzaki sits back slightly and nods once, taking in your response before nodding for Mogi to continue once again.

“Well, you’re right about that. This is Misa Amane, an upcoming celebrity whose DNA was already in the court system as a victim– her parents were murdered and she went through the trials against the perpetrator...”

You look between Mogi and Ryuzaki with concern at his pause. “Wait… I recognize this case; wasn’t it thrown out?”

Ryuzaki sits up right to secure a small plate of strawberry cake and pops the fruit garnish on top into his mouth; he speaks with his mouth open as he chews. “Exactly. The man was acquitted and shortly after Kira came to power, he died of a heart attack.”

The allegiance to Kira is immediately established and you sit back into your seat. In a strange sense, you kinda feel bad for her; if your family was killed and the murderer walked free from an inefficient judicial system…maybe you would have sympathy for Kira as we–

Ok, what are you thinking? Kira has killed more than just criminals; FBI agents and even members of this task force have been murdered. 

You shake off the thought and give Mogi your full attention once more as Ryuzaki watches your expression with uncomfortable focus.

“The tapes had pollen from flowers local to her hometown, and when we seized a few assets from her agent– without her knowledge– we matched her notebooks to the paper used in the letters. Not only did the ink match, but the handwriting too.” 

Mogi opens a manilla folder that had been tucked under his arm and places it on the coffee table in front of everyone. “Her credit card statements. There’s receipts of train ticket purchases that match the postage locations of the stamps from the Sakura TV demands.”

Aizawa crosses his arms. “Ok, just to push back on this… is it possible that she is also just an occult prankster? Kira could’ve put either one up to sending these tapes– like how they manipulated the acts of the criminals in jail before they died.”

Ryuzaki hums slightly, the fork in his mouth and frosting coating part of his lips and the sight makes you squirm slightly. “Given there have been multiple tapes sent in response to our demands and they haven’t died yet, we can assume they are doing this willingly…” He pauses and runs his tongue over his bottom lip to get the lost sugar. “Though if we detain one… there’s a chance Kira will kill one, or both, to avoid them from speaking out.”

You stare back at the image to examine her appearance again, and to avoid staring at the slutty way Ryuzaki cleans his fork of any remaining cream. 

Ugh. He doesn’t even know how it looks. 

You turn your attention back to the image of Misa and think for a moment. “There’s something else… aha!” You reach in your bag to pull out your laptop while the group of men watch you open the lid and type in your password.

Mr. Yagami sits forward to grab a mug of coffee from Watari’s tray. “Did you find something y/n?”

“Kinda…. Ah! Here it is!” You spin the laptop around and the men all lean in to get a better look.

“That looks delicious…?” Mogi mumbles in confusion from his still standing position.

You roll your eyes at the way Matsuda is nearly drooling. “Ok, but besides the image of the dessert, this is Misa’s social media page.”

Mr. Yagami blinks, completely lost. “Uh, ok?”

L sits forward and expands the image before looking up at you. “This is one of the cafes you and Light were talking about in Aoyama.”

You grin at him, slightly flush from his memory of you mentioning it in a conversation that he wasn’t even part of, before nodding and pointing to the post date and location. “Exactly! While it was posted a few days after Light and Matsuda were walking in Aoyama… it’s awfully convenient to post it on the same day we received the message that the Second Kira had found Kira.”

The group hums with excitement; everyone closer to finding Kira than ever before. Ryuzaki slips the last bite of cake into his mouth and places the saucer back onto the coffee table with a gentle touch. 

“However, this doesn’t inherently look very good for your son, Mr. Yagami.”

The group’s energy falters and you shift uncomfortably in your seats, the tension between the two men immediately rising once again. 

“Excuse me? Even if she was in Aoyama the same day as Light, Matsuda was with him the whole time!”

On cue, Matsuda jumps up to the chief’s defense. “That’s right Ryuzaki! Light never spoke to anyone who matches her photograph.”

Opting to reach for a plate of sugar cubes, he slides a few blocks into a warm mug of tea. “Mogi– please explain.”

Swallowing uncomfortably, you watch the way Mogi nervously loosens the collar on his button up and Mr. Yagami’s glare is intense. 

“What? Mogi... what is he talking about?!”

Examining the way everyone else looks at Mogi with concern, you deduce that L had only told you about his assignment trailing Light. 

“I had him follow your son after a few meetings, this woman has come to your house several times now.”

Mr. Yagami sputters at the way Ryuzaki speaks on Mogi’s behalf, abruptly turning between the men in shock and anger. “You what?”

Matsuda and Aizawa rise to their feet, each immediately standing between the men as Mr. Yagami tries to push forward and reach the collar of L’s shirt. The coffee table slides as the group begins to scuffle; you lift your feet to avoid the scattered mugs that topple onto the floor.

“You had our colleagues spy on my family? What gives you the right– after everything?!” Your mentor booms as Aizawa puts his arm out in front to block his movements.

L stands idly, Matsuda standing in front regardless. “Your son is still the most convincing suspect we have so far. Do you want to catch Kira or not?”

Mr. Yagami scoffs and you stand up now as well, picking up your bag to avoid the coffee puddle that threatens to stain the fabric. Moving slightly, you sling it over the back of the loveseat Ryuzaki stands in front of and watch the way Mr. Yagami scoffs with an exhale of hot breath.

“This threatens to break the very trust of this group! If I’m not a suspect, you should tell me when you act in secret.”

You swallow thickly and shift your weight awkwardly, the images of your very public makeout the other day now flooding your mind. The lack of your own honesty with the group leaves you biting your tongue and remaining silent. 

“Your son may have access to the information you have; this was done to prevent any suspicion and it worked.” L replies cooly, not needing Matsuda to hold him back.

“And if you told me, I could’ve done more to figure out why she visited! Because of that, Light looks even more guilty without having the opportunity to explain anything!”

Ryuzaki sighs slightly. “We will give him ample time to clear his own name with his actions, but for now please calm down– you need to act rationally.”

Mr. Yagami tilts his head down and Aizawa keeps him steady for a moment before the chief exhales slowly and sinks into the sofa. Defeat written on his face, the older man looks down at his hands with a forlorn expression. 

“I’m sorry for my outburst everyone… I didn’t mean to question the trustworthiness of this group… It’s just hard to hear you speak so casually that my son could be–” his words die before he can even say ‘Kira.’

Aizawa moves to sit back down and the lingering tension in the air hangs with less intensity than before. Matsuda takes a deep breath and sits beside the chief as Mogi stands in an awkward and apologetic silence in front of the TV.

You slowly leave your original position from beside Ryuzaki and catch his gaze for a moment before returning to your spot on the couch; the small moment of eye contact isn’t lost on your company either.

“You’ve been acting in secret…but also have been vulnerable with us, Ryuzaki.” Mr. Yagami looks up, a calmer expression on his face. “I’m grateful you’ve been able to be honest about your relationship… and I understand that some acts in finding Kira may require a bit more privacy. Please, forgive my outburst.”

Ah, shit.

Your heart strings tug when your mentor offers you a somber look that you can’t quite discern and Ryuzaki stares at you from his seat. It’s awkward and uncomfortable, but you offer a small smile and shrug your shoulders slightly.

“I completely understand your feelings Mr. Yagami. I will keep them in mind as we continue our mission.” L offers before looking back to the group.

You squirm in your seat, feeling like utter shit as the next steps of the plan are being discussed. 

“I’ll keep my public appearances to an even stricter minimum than before.” Ryuzaki begins, taking a fresh mug of tea since his other one was knocked to the floor a few moments ago. “If Miss Amane has this… ‘power’ to kill with a name and face, I’ll have to only leave the headquarters under extremely coordinated events. You all should consider the same.”

Matsuda looks at the file notes on the woman before raising his gaze to examine you; a lighter tone in his voice as he attempts to dissolve any remaining tension. “Ha! That might make date night awkward huh, y/n!”

You pause, the documents frozen in your hands as a hot blush spreads across your face. “Oh, yea! Haha… definitely will make it a bit harder.”

A forced laugh escapes your lips as the other members roll their eyes at his attempt at humor; you turn your attention to Ryuzaki who sits completely complacent with the task force discussing your ‘relationship’. In a poor attempt at morse code, you blink a few times as signal to help you out. 

He tilts his head for a moment before finally catching on and sitting up straighter to place his mug back on the table. “O-Oh, right! Our love life will take a hit, but lucky for us– y/n and I usually enjoy our time spent here in privacy.”

…

The room is dead silent except for the small clatter of a ceramic dessert plate Ryuzaki picks up from the coffee table. How in the world he managed to make the atmosphere WORSE is beyond you. 

Matsuda coughs slightly and awkwardly looks towards the bedroom door on the other side of the room. “You mean like… when you guys go in there?”

Maybe you should’ve just gone to Aoyama anyway and took your chances with the Second Kira’s wrath and L’s disappointment. Because being dead sounds a lot better than being here right now. 

You raise your hands up in defense, silently wondering what karma you must have to be in this situation. “No! We don’t do anything in there–”

“Yes, please be rest assured that y/n and I do not do anything intimate there…” Ryuzaki interrupts before taking a bite of his pastry. “–while the group is here of course.”

Silence falls on the group once more and Mr. Yagami can’t bring himself to make eye contact with you; Aizawa looks slowly between you and L in horror. “So… you guys do it in there once we leave?”

“Is that why you always leave last, y/n?” Mogi asks quietly. 

Your words choke in your throat and you turn to Ryuzaki who gives you a neutral expression; there’s not an ounce of worry on his face as his large eyes slowly blink at you as if you were describing the weather.

“What? N-No! We just… I uhhh…” You take a deep breath. “Can we get back to catching Kira?”

“Yes, please.” Mr. Yagami immediately sighs and keeps his gaze on the papers in his hands. 

“Of course. We can’t arrest Misa right away anyways– it would be best to give Light some time to prove his innocence and for us to construct a place that could even hold the Second Kira if it is Ms. Amane.” L explains cooly, gazing at the older man. “Mogi will still be asked to trail your son, if that’s alright.”

Mr. Yagami sighs but nods regardless. “I understand, it’s for his own good.”

You nod slowly, your heart still pounding in your chest as a hot blush remains tattooed to your cheeks. 

“So… we keep this a secret from him for a bit? At least until we gain something that could prove a lack of connection to Misa?” Matsuda asks, flipping through her headshots. 

“Precisely. We will tell him about the tapes and our analysis of them, but Misa and the other woman will remain unmentioned for the time being.”

The meeting continues as planned, going through various pieces of evidence against Misa as you draft legal demands from her agent; a ‘drug’s bust’ is the guise the group has decided on using. Gentle rain from earlier picks up into a storm similar to that of last night and thunder roars outside as the group passes around various papers and evidence bags amongst each other.

You finish reviewing a final explanation of the most recent Second Kira tape once more before the power flicks slightly. A few whistles escape the men as the lights come back on and crashes of thunder shake the window panes.

Moving to place your annotated papers back on the table, a shrill ringtone emits from your bag. A sheepish apology at Ryuzaki as you forgot to put it on mute, you move to decline it before raising an eyebrow at the caller ID.

“It’s Light.”

Mr. Yagami looks up at you and then peers at his watch. “He’s running 20 minutes behind…”

Ryuzaki motions for you to answer and you lift the device to your ear and repack your bag. “Light? What’s up?”

“Ah, y/n I’m glad you answered. I’m still on campus.”

You pause and look up at the wall clock, eyes wide in shock as you stand upright. “Still? I thought your classes were done almost an hour ago.”

“Several metro lines are down from the storm, apparently there was an accident at a major transfer station.”

“So, you’re not coming tonight?” You shrug when the group gives you a concerned look.

“I don’t think so.. Agh this is so frustrating. I don’t want to inconvenience Ryuzaki or my father about filling me in either….”

You pause and take the phone from its tucked spot on your shoulder and flip it to rest against your opposite ear. “That’s alright, I can let you know what you missed.”

“Really? You’re a lifesaver y/n.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m sure you’d do the same for me anyways.”

“I’ll take you to that dessert place not far off campus, my treat.”

The offer makes you pause slightly, blinking slowly as his invitation catches you off guard. It’s not like you’ve never gone to cute cafes or gotten lunch– the both of you used to do it regularly when you worked alongside his father under regular hours– but there’s a weird feeling in your gut that’s not describable.

“Y-You don’t have to do that…” Ryuzaki’s eyes follow your every movement and he listens intently to each phrase that leaves your lips.

“I want to though… take it as a token of appreciation. But if you’re too busy to go through the meeting notes… I can always ask Matsuda, I suppose.”

You shake your head as if he could see your body language and sigh slightly into the receiver, brushing off the strange anxiety that creeps on your shoulders. “It’s fine, that plan works for me. I have a 2 hour break tomorrow anyways.”

The group watches in silence and shrugs amongst themselves as they raise eyebrows at the content of the conversation. When you end the call and slide the phone back into your bag, all eyes are on you.

Mr. Yagami sits forward. “Is Light ok?”

You reach for your coffee mug and down half the contents. “Huh? Oh yea, his train line is closed for the storm so he’s just going to head home.”

You lean back in your seat and Ryuzaki purses his lips slightly, he moves to speak but waits a moment. “Let’s take a short recess. All of you confirm your ways home are not compromised and then we can wrap up this meeting early considering the weather.”

Hums of approval break out and the men separate to call home, check traffic reports, and monitor the transit line closures. Ryuzaki stands and motions to follow him; he pauses at the bedroom door and opts to awkwardly shuffle into the kitchen area when Aizawa shoots him a concerned glance. 

You pivot to stand beside him and shiver when a few of the other men raise a slight eyebrow before returning to their phone calls. “What’s going on? Why can’t we just–”

“What else did Light say?” Ryuzaki interrupts and whispers in a hushed tone.

Blinking, you look behind to ensure you’re out of earshot and shrug slightly. “He asked if I could go over the meeting notes of tonight so he wouldn’t inconvenience you or his dad.”

“Right–” L rolls his eyes slightly and scoffs. “Anything else?”

“Mmm, he offered to take me to a dessert cafe as payment.”

“And you accepted?”

You pause slightly and keep your eye on the distance of the other members to your conversation. “Yea? Why wouldn’t I–” oh.

You suck in your lower lip awkwardly while Ryuzaki narrows his eyes. “Please think these things through thoroughly. It’s obvious he’s onto us, and he’s looking for an opening to wedge himself into.”

It’s not exactly your best moment, but you offer a slight defense. “It’s not something that’s inherently damning. Going with a man who isn’t my uh… ‘boyfriend’ is weird, but it’s Light. We’ve already gone to cafes and such platonically, so if he’s trying to prove something here, it won’t work.”

Ryuzaki’s glare narrows slightly at your mention of previous excursions with the man, but concedes the point. “Regardless, we need to ensure that ‘this’ remains stable; our lives are on the line.”

You nearly roll your eyes at the constant reminder but nod in agreement nonetheless. “I’m aware, but what else is there to prove? The group already knows we're together.”

“We need to make it more believable.”

Pausing slightly, you open your eyes in shock. “More believable? How do we even manage that? It would be… something that would happen privately.” A blush spreads across your face and your voice lowers quietly. 

“That’s fine then, we’ll have one of them walk in on us.”

…what.

“W-wait..and what exactly are they going to be walking in on?”

Ryuzaki blinks once, the implication of his suggestion now warming his cheeks a pale pink. “Well… a couple-thing I suppose. We’ll have to draft a plan about it– If Light is successful in proving that we aren’t actually dating but instead plotting his arrest behind everyone's back… the entire task force dynamic will crumble.”

A heavy weight pushes on your shoulders and you bite your lip in thought. “I know, I know. But having someone… walk in will require a careful plan on our part if we’re actually going to do this.”

L has seemingly no issue with the risk of mortification at your colleagues walking in on the two of you potentially “fucking” and the air escapes your lungs in exhaustion. There’s no way this conversation is real, and thunder roars overhead as you silently attempt to wake yourself up from this dream. Before you can offer another suggestion, a cough rings out awkwardly as Mogi signals that the group is ready to resume. 

You offer a polite smile and pivot next to Ryuzaki as you walk back to your seat. “Just.. give me some time to think about it ok?”

The meeting resumes as it had prior; finalizing a plan for Sakura TV to be wary if any more tapes arrive, requesting Misa’s upcoming schedules from her agent, and drafting a request to the dessert cafe in Aoyama for their interior CCTV access.

The rain picks up and the wind howls beyond the window panes with lightning occasionally painting the interior hotel walls with a pale glow. Watari collects residual coffee cups from the table and offers to prepare another pot before the group sleepily declines.

You flip through the credit card statements of Misa while idly replaying the invitation Light offered over the phone. The more you considered it, the more you tried to convince yourself you were simply overthinking. The fact he had called you and not his father isn’t inherently strange, but it does leave an uneasy feeling in your gut.

Digging your chin into the casual university sweatshirt you adorn, you silently take in your own outfit. Coming straight from class, you forwent changing into your professional clothes and sit at the meeting in a pair of jeans with a ribbed white tee under your crewneck. It would seem out of place if Ryuzaki wasn’t sitting in his usual spot dressed equally as comfortably; on instinct he looks up from his own papers and meets your gaze before you peel your eyes back down.

Another 45 minutes go by until the yawns of the group cannot be suppressed by the thunder and Ryuzaki looks up to adjourn the meeting for the night. Despite it being earlier than your usual evenings, fatigue is evident on the faces of everyone. 

Tired limbs stretch upright and slowly pack their belongings as the men bundle up and check the window to prepare for the inclement weather outside. Sliding a few folders into your bag, you pause when Watari offers you your jacket. “Actually, can I speak with you Ryuzaki?” You turn towards the man as he peers out the window at the rain.

“Of course.”

Aizawa slings his messenger bag over his shoulder and looks between the both of you with a concerned glance before staring at the bedroom door on the other side of the room.

You roll your eyes. “Not for that.” you turn back to L; his attention now fully on you. “I have an assignment and it’s about a case you worked on.”

Aizawa seems content with the explanation and gives Matsuda a slight nudge when the men slowly file out of the hotel suite. L tilts his head slightly, “Which case? BB murder? Or maybe–”

When the door clicks shut you exhale slightly with a light chuckle. “There is no assignment.”

“...Oh.”

Placing your bag back down in front of the couch, you pivot to walk back towards the bedroom at the other end of the room. “I actually have an idea that could work… regarding what we spoke about earlier. If someone hears this, I doubt they’ll question us being together.”

Even saying it outloud is enough to make your ears red. When you initially joined the task force, you assumed it would wrap up with the swift arrest of Kira while each of the men wrote you glowing letters of recommendation– not with you opening the bedroom door of L’s suite and ushering him inside for a private meeting, still miles away from catching the serial killer.

“Watari, can you assist with this actually?”

The older gentleman walks around from his position at the kitchen counter, gently stacking dirty dishes before he arrives in the living room. “Of course, y/n. What can I assist with?”

Saying the request is mortifying, but it’s not like you have many options at this point anyways. A deep breath in, you gesture to the room. “Can you just stay out here? Not super close to the door, but maybe by the couches? I want to see something.”

The man nods once and retreats to the coffee table to organize the glassware there and you motion for Ryuzaki to enter the bedroom. 

It’s awkward, more than you want it to be. L walks inside and looks expectedly at you as your hands click the door shut; shuffling to the side of the bed, you release a long exhale. “Ok, I was thinking about what you said earlier… about the uhh ‘next step’ and I’m ready with a plan.”

Ryuzaki’s eyes widen in surprise, an expression of shock you’re not sure you’ve ever seen. He coughs slightly and looks between you and the bed, taking a moment to digest what was happening. 

“Oh, I see. To be honest I thought you would need more time… and I’m not exactly prepared for this..” He walks over and runs his hands over the fabric of the comforter to ground himself. “I’m not exactly the most experienced, but I’m ready.”

You stand still, frozen as he then slowly leans forward.

Huh.

HUH.

You sputter and lift your hands. “Wait– what?”

“What.” Ryuzaki immediately parrots and leans back to his previous position. 

“What… are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He repeats once more.

Blinking slightly and raising an eyebrow at his behavior, you tilt your head in suspicion but brush it off. “Uh, let me explain the plan first, yea?”

Ryuzaki nods in the least-casual forced-casual manner possible. “Yes, of course.”

You scoff lightly in amusement but a grin works its way onto your lips regardless. “Alright, you’re going to need some acting skills for this.”

Without waiting for his answer, you kick off your shoes and climb onto the bed. Sitting near the pillows, you place your hand on the wall and knock once or twice before humming in approval; Ryuzaki stands motionless beside you. “I’m having slight difficulty following your lead, y/n.”

“Patience–” you shush him.

He closes his lips and swallows slightly, Adam’s apple bobbing as he remains frozen in place. Rocking your weight forward slightly, you push the headboard of the bed into the adjacent wall and hum in satisfaction when a ‘thud’ rings out from the motion. Taking a moment to test the movement, you sway to a steadier rhythm and nudge the wooden furniture against the wall over and over again.

Swallowing any remaining pride, you look away from the man next to you and open your mouth to release an awkwardly forced moan. “Aaahhhh–”

This is fucking ridiculous. 

A chuckle almost escapes Ryuzaki’s lips, but it passes as a mixture of a cough and gruff exhale; you slow down to a halt and look at him with cheeks bright red in embarrassment and frustration. “

What?” you seethe at him in frustration; actions coming to a halt. 

He glances at the way your hands remain firmly grasped to the headboard and tightens his lips into a tight line. “You need to make it believable.”

His response isn’t one you expect, and in your state of surprise, you peel backwards off the headboard and sit still in the center of the bed. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Clearly amused but pretending not to be, he climbs onto the plush comforter and gives you a knowing look. “Seriously? The only people who make noises like that are adult film actors on set– there’s no way it would convince a room of trained detectives that you were…enjoying yourself.”

You open your mouth for a moment before shutting it in defeat. Sure he has a point, but it’s not like you could casually give the performance of a lifetime while being fully clothed and a respectful 5 feet apart.

A huff escapes you as he walks on his knees up to the base of the headboard and does a few sample taps against the wall. “And how else would you like me to sound–”

“Let’s focus on the task at hand.” He interrupts, changing the topic slightly.

Relinquishing the subtle dig at your acting skills, you pivot to stand up and give a few jumps to the mattress. 

God this is so damn childish. The act of being caught doing this would be worse than actually being caught having sex with him. 

Wait. what. 

The joint act of him swinging the bed into the wall while you hop up and down makes you recall a variety of undergraduate memories you wished would stay hidden. Banging against the wall, fake and forced moans, and the very real company only separated by plaster and drywall makes you cringe.

Ryuzaki doesn’t seem to mind any of it, remaining silent as he throws his shoulder into the swing and jerks the furniture forward. You pause and land lightly on your feet; throwing your sweatshirt over your head from the heat, you adjust the white tee underneath and glance at the man underneath you.

“Ok, now you’re not being believable.”

He pauses immediately and looks up at you with a face of frustration. “Hm? What else is there to this…?”

“You’re too quiet. I mean we’re making all this noise but you haven’t made a sound.”

Ryuzaki opens his mouth but promptly shuts it; his mind reeling a million different scenarios as a hot blush spreads across his cheeks. He turns the other way and keeps his lips in a tight line while you raise an eyebrow at his silence.

He gives a few pushes to the bed with half effort, obviously trying to avoid making a sound with his mouth; unconvinced you raise your foot from your standing position above his and kick his side slightly.

“Hey. What are you doing? I thought you said we needed to make this believable.”

He doesn’t answer and continues half-assing his motion; impatient you raise your foot again but slip when he suddenly jerks forward to slide the bed once again.

“Woa– S-SHIT”

You topple forward and crash down onto him in the blink of an eye, silently taking a moment to see if you can feel your limbs still. Regarding yourself unscathed, you look down at the very stunned Ryuzaki who lays directly beneath you. 

“Was this… part of your plan?” He murmurs quietly. 

Stuttering, you sit up straight but he raises his knees behind you to keep you stuck in the base of his lap.

Fuck.

No words can form on your tongue as the position creates a TV static to echo through your mind; surprise turning into intrigue, L looks up at you with a glaze over his eyes and the tug of a smirk on his lips.

“Please use your words, y/n. I might have amazing deductive abilities, but I’m not a mind reader.”

Scoffing you grab the fabric of the comforter in frustration, the fucker was enjoying this. “I didn’t mean to trip.”

“Plans rarely go according to how we expect them to.” He pauses and keeps his gaze on you. “But since you did fall, how would your… plan move forward from here?”

“What?” You mutter incredulously. The whole thing was an accident, but he seems to be interested in watching you squirm more than anything else.

He sits there in a petty silence, expecting you to talk your way out of the situation while your embarrassment turns to frustration. Ok while yes, you would be lying if you said the tension didn’t turn you on at all, the blurred lines of your charade creates a risky situation that should be avoided. 

Kissing at the quad was spontaneous and already pushing the boundaries of what this ‘fake relationship’ currently signified as. Sitting on his lap with no one else in the room was a whole different ball game. 

“You’re overthinking.” His voice cuts through.

You sigh and turn towards the door. “How can I not? It’s not like this situation leaves much up to the imagination if someone were to walk in.”

“Humor me.”

Seriously? 

It feels strange to have the tables turned on you. When you had taken the initiative to kiss him in front of Light, it was Ryuzaki who stood before you completely at your will; sitting above him while his dark eyes bore into yours, trying to push even further made you furrow your brows in contemplation.

The whole thing is fake right? It doesn’t make any sense for him to care so much if Light asks you to a cafe and it makes even less rational sense for him to want to practice getting caught. Catching Kira takes more than playing by the books though, and watching the way his pupils are dilated to the size of saucers makes you begin to want something else. Something more. 

You don’t know what he wants from you at this point, but sitting here, with him, as the storm roars outside and the only thing illuminating the bedroom are the table lamps and moonlight, you decide to act on what you want for once. 

It’s quick, so fast that even Ryuzaki takes a moment to blink before realizing that you were leaning down to kiss his lips. Hands cupping his cheeks, you tilt your head and slide down his thighs bit more to sit in a neat straddle of his lap.

He doesn’t freeze like the time you kissed him on the campus, instead deft hands rest neatly on your waist as he pushes against your mouth with equal force. Your nose tickles his cheek as you move more pressure and you savor the sweet flavor of his lips; his mouth chases yours when you part to tilt your head to the other side. 

It’s hot, and you can feel his cock stiffening in his jeans with every rock of your hips as you both effectively dry hump. Slithering your tongue out slightly, you run a gentle lick across his bottom lip; pulling back when he freezes.

About to end the entire moment in mortification, Ryuzaki slips his index and middle fingers in the belt loops of your jeans to keep you still above him. Panting, he gazes up at you with hazy eyes. “Why do you do that? You did it the other day… on campus. Wh– What does it signify?”

Dark hair tickles his cheeks and his eyes are locked solely on you; the pressure in his jeans rutting against your aching cunt isn’t lost on you either. It feels like you’re suffocating in a tug-of-war between rationality and desire. 

Of course, the urge for more wins.

You wet your bottom lip with your tongue and Ryuzaki shamefully stares at the action while waiting for an explanation. No words leave your mouth; instead you take your thumbs from where they rested on his cheeks and force them between his lips. Taping on his canines once with them, you push his jaw down and lean forward to place your tongue in his mouth.

“Hmpfhh-”

Ryuzaki doesn’t mind being gagged by your tongue; he happily exhales through his nose and tugs you further up on his lap as his erection grinds painfully against the fly of his jeans. You don’t fare much better above him as the saturated mess of your panties leaves a warm and sticky sensation between the plush of your thighs. 

Sugar and black tea is the taste of his tongue as you grind your own against it before exploring his molars and pursuing your lips further to gain more access. Soft groans leave your throat and escape his own lips; no longer sounding like a staged pornoc– but guttural and deep.

Any other person would have their hands on your ass already, but Ryuzaki keeps his hands at a constrained position at your tailbone, as if it was painful for him to keep them still. Remaining a gentleman nonetheless, he doesn’t move them any further. 

It’s bad. The way you grind against him faster and tilt his head back with the force of your mouth. It’s even worse when he pushes you back and a string of saliva connects your lips before snapping.

“Haa.. I see.” He pants, not bothering to discuss his very obvious and raging boner. “So, if I wanted to do that… I would–” Ryuzaki tugs your head back in and sits upright to connect your lips once more. 

He runs his tongue over your lips and in an act of coyness, you don’t bother opening your mouth. Ryuzaki pulls back with an analytical expression before tapping your hip as if he just had a moment of clarity. “Ah, that’s right! You did this…”

Before you can question him, a hand leaves your belt loop and grasps your jaw; his thumb pushes your mouth down to mirror the same motion you did to him. Instantly his lips meet yours as his tongue slithers into your mouth and ruts against yours. 

The temperature of the room is painfully hot, and despite shedding your sweatshirt earlier, you can feel the warmth on your skin. Nipples hard against your bra and back arching in pleasure despite him not even leaving first base. 

Lips against his own and panties completely ruined with each grind against his erection; your puffy clit now aching for more friction as your cunt clenches pathetically from the clothes bulge rutting against it.

You're lost in pleasure until a moment of realization washes over you. You were kissing him.

Yes, you had done this once before–but there was an audience back then, and a point to prove. Right now, there was no one else in the room that this was meant for; each rock of your heads to a matched rhythm was not convincing anyone but yourselves that whatever ‘this’ was, didn’t qualify as casual.

Hands snaking into his hair and tugging slightly, a low reverberation escapes his throat from the sensation and the grip on your waist tightens. Sighing through your nose, you tug harder to pry his head back; the force nearly ripping out his hair from the strength you need to get him off your lips. 

Saliva coats his chin as he looks up at you with hazy eyes; it would be so easy to go even further, but looking at his appearance, you know it’s for the best if it stops here. You sit back slightly but his bent knees keep you close

Has he even been in a relationship? Or done anything for that matter?

It’s wrong. Fake dating, kissing, doing this with someone who obviously has no idea what they’re getting into. Additionally, it probably looks awful on your behalf to have people entertain the idea of you and L being together; you can practically hear the ‘she slept her way to the top’ rumors now. 

“That’s uhh.. What they could walk in on…if we need up the ante..” you offer slowly, with a distant voice. 

Ryuzaki takes the pause to breathe deeply and nods once; his eyes bore into your face with concern and awkwardness. It doesn’t take much effort for him to read the way your face is torn in a mixture of disappointed emotions. 

A million sentences of affirmation for his decision to commit to ‘this’ cross his mind; instead he settles on, “I see.”

You swallow dryly and swing around to tap his knees which he immediately unbends to allow you to swing off his lap and hop off the bed. Ryuzaki remains laying down, his eyes never leaving your figure as you bend down to lace up your sneakers. 

This feels ridiculous. The act of tying your shoes is akin to getting dressed after a one night stand while the guy tries to decide if he should order you an Uber or not. 

“Watari is probably going to be concerned.” You say in a weak attempt to lighten the mood.

L sits up slightly and glances at his crotch with a grimace; you take the hint to turn around while he adjusts himself. 

“Don’t feel bad about it– I’m sure if any one was on your lap like that… it would happen.”

It’s an attempt to make him feel better, but the words leave a bitter taste in your mouth, as if picturing him with another person wasn’t fair. 

“I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable… I didn’t mean to push you earlier for an explanation of your uh… plan.” He apologizes from behind you.

You spin back around and notice his long shirt now covering the erection he’s tucked into the elastic band of his boxers and shrug. “No, it was wrong of me to make such an intense move on you without warning.”

Ryuzaki blinks and shakes his head. “That’s alright. We need ‘this’ to be realistic considering our lives are on the line if Misa really is the Second Kira.”

Pursing your lips, you exhale slowly and nod; your gaze locked on the carpet of the room. 

L stands beside you and opens and closes his hands in an awkward fidget. He’s never been one for honesty, communication, or vulnerability and the tension of the moment makes him falter. “I don’t regret doing this, y/n. But if you have second thoughts or regrets… I won’t hold them against you.”

You continue staring at the corner of the room for a moment before gathering the courage to look back over at the man and drink in his disheveled appearance. Despite your brain telling you to end this stupid charade now, your heart keeps your feet firmly planted next to him. 

“I don’t regret this, Ryuzaki. I don’t regret you.”

He opens his eyes wider, and searches your face for any sign that you were simply saying that to protect his ego. Not finding any, he smiles gently and nods. “That’s good to hear.”

You both stand in silence, neither one of you bringing up the fact that what just happened defied all aspects of what a fake relationship really is; the fear that calling it out would end the entire agreement prevents you from opening your mouth. 

“I guess we’ll just have to do that if Light manages to cast some doubt on us.” Ryuzaki offers while sliding his hands into the front pocket of his jeans. 

You chuckle, enjoying the break in the atmosphere and nudge his shoulder slightly. “Riiight. Maybe it’ll come in handy sometime.”

Ryuzaki’s stance is lighter, enjoying your eased expression, and heads for the bedroom door. “Yes, indeed. Maybe we should… continue practicing sometime? It would be best to not be caught unprepared after all.”

You step out of the room and pause while looking at the man. It’s an unspoken offer; an invitation to keep doing this without actually addressing the underlying implication of everything. You’re convinced he’s never been in a relationship before, but he seems to be an expert at creating a situationship; settling for the ease of not having to do the ‘what are we actually’ conversation, you nod. “That sounds nice.”

Watari fluffs a few pillows and places the TV remote neatly next to a decorative candle on the coffee table before looking up at the both of you. Approaching the living room, you move to sling your bag over your shoulder while the older man looks between you both.

“Ah, you’ve finished. Was I able to be of assistance?”

Your face flushes and you run a hand casually through your hair. “Well that depends… what did you hear?”

Watari places the last fluffed pillow into the loveseat L usually sits at and stands upright. “Some minor commotion from the walls, but nothing else.” He turns to Ryuzaki. “Will we need new furniture? Or to switch suites?”

Mortification creeps back in but L simply shakes his head and peers out the window to the storm still raging outside. “That won’t be necessary. Thank you.”

Shuffling to the door you turn back to L who follows you to the entrance. “So we’re keeping the ‘notebooks’ a secret still too?”

“Yes, until we can get Misa in custody and question her direction. We’ll need her schedule from her manager first though.”

You nod, watching the way Watari retrieves the Mercedes keys and pivots into the hallway to give you and Ryuzaki another moment of space. 

“So… guess I’ll see you later? Not on campus, but here I suppose?”

“Yes, for the time being I can’t risk leaving the headquarters.”

You nod and tighten the straps of your bag, not wanting to leave but also knowing it’s late enough already. “Right, that’s a good idea…”

“Are you alright?” 

Defensively backing up, you blush at being called out so blatantly. “Yea. Sorry, I’ll head out now.”

“That’s not what I said.” He interrupts, shutting the front door when you try to open it. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

You startle backward slightly and peer at him. “Nothing’s wrong. I’ve just got a lot on my mind…”

Ryuzaki releases his pressure keeping the door shut but doesn’t stop staring at your face as you shuffle into the hallway; Watari stands at the elevator at the end, keeping the door open.

He’s unconvinced but lets you take a few steps into the hallway. It’s a dumb move on your part given the complicated nature of this relationship, but you can’t fight the urge to spin around and plant a small kiss on the apple of his cheek.

His face breaks into a bright blush and he brings a few fingers to touch the spot in awe. Despite being significantly tamer than the makeouts you’ve already had, it’s the first kiss you’ve shared outside of fake pretense.

You give a slight wave to Ryuzaki and spin back around to power walk to the elevator to the awaiting older man, eager to go home, shower, and contemplate the meaning of your life. By the time the doors shut, you exhale all the air in your lungs and ignore the gentle laugh Watari releases as he bemusingly watches your expression.

~~~~~

L POV

A grin spreads across his lips as he watches the way you toss your bag over your head to shield yourself from the rain as you run into the passenger seat of the car. He knows Watari probably offered you an umbrella, and that you probably refused it on the assumption the rain wasn’t that bad.

Emotions that have rarely, if ever, stir inside Ryuzaki’s chest as he watches the car purr to life and slowly pull out of the hotel parking lot and disappear down the road. What was he doing again? Ah, right– catching Kira. 

It’s the main priority at the forefront of his mind, but his heart pulls him in another direction. Watari gives him knowing glances everytime your name is mentioned and the way Light has seemingly caught on to the ‘charade’ places him in an uncomfortable situation.

Sighing in exhaustion, he walks back over to the edge of the bed and sits down idly before flopping his back onto the plush mattress. The world famous detective L would break off this silly relationship and move freely– not caring if a member of his group had unfortunately been put at risk. He wasn’t heartless, he didn’t want members of the team to die, but he didn’t have a reason to go out of his way to protect you. L would never act so irrationally. 

But as to the book as L was, Lawliet was still a man. A man with follies, ambitions, hopes, and dreams, and love. He was persuaded by his heart as much as his brain, despite his best attempts to seal off the temptations of emotions as best as he could. The sound of your voice is similar to that of a siren calling a sailor; he knows that this is bad.

Thunder roars again outside, and Ryuzaki sits upright with a tight feeling in his chest. If things were different, if maybe you were work colleagues at a normal job, or if Kira was caught already, he could figure out how to put it into words– how the way he wanted you was real. But he can’t; at least not now. 

The image of you is painting in his mind so vividly, he wants to shut his eyes forever if it meant he could see it for eternity. The movement of your hips, the flick of your tongue, the way you kissed him for the second– no third time now had to mean something. 

Ryuzaki blinks and turns his attention to the window pane once more, taking in the glow of lightning that flashes outside inbetween crashes of thunder. It’s the first time in his life he wants to be completely honest, so he can kiss you and touch you in a way that shows it’s real.

Pursing his lips, he knows the situation is bad, even worse considering his self restraint is wearing thinner and thinner each time your mouth latches onto his. He’s ok with it though, convincing himself that he’s ok with a fake relationship if it means he gets to keep you to himself and call you his even if you weren’t.

L would never act like this, but Lawliet sighs and notices the small bundle of your sweatshirt fabric thrown on the floor from earlier. Taking it in his hands, he can smell the scent of your usual perfume and he clenches his jaw in self disgust.  Tomorrow, L would file the needed documents for constructing a cell with enough precautions to hold Misa in confinement upon her arrest next week; tonight, Lawliet does a mental estimate of the time it takes Watari to drop you off and come back before unzipping the fly of his jeans.

a/n time: also the artwork at the top is mine (i usually post fanart on a separate account but i drew that for this series hehe)

YIPPEE just in time for valentine's day hehe

this is my longest chapter to date omg what is a process to make. I was really unsure if wanted to go forward with the 'lets make fake sex sounds' kinda trope, but decided it would be good considering how I want the next chapter to go -> aka Miss Misa gets to finally appear hehe

also sorry but yall in a situationship now and both men are rude af and master manipulators

anywayssss i love seeing ur comments on these, it literally makes my day (and lmk if you want to join the tag list)

comments/likes/reblogs all appreciated <333

-oatmeal

tags: @lechatparle24 @irissfoot @iheteeaifs @automaticpatroltragedy @greenapplesaucepi @thesimpnovao @leiiilaaaa

[storiesfromafan]

Track 01. Juno

A/N: its been a while. So sorry for my lack of posts. I've been struggling with inspiration. So please bare with me while I try to work on my other works.

Its Valentines Day here in Australia, with it we got Sabrina Carpenter's Short n Sweet Deluxe today! I've been listening to it for most of the day, and today was the day I finally wrote something inspired by Juno 😅

Forgive me if it's not great, but I am happy with it. Also, with enough encouragement, I might do a 'Deluxe' version with added smut at 18+ lol.

And this is part of a new series, it will get its own master post and linked to my master list. Basically one-shots inspired by music or song fics.

Warning/s: mention of breasts and feeling up, possible spelling/grammar mistakes

It was wrong, so very wrong. Sneaking around with a Vandal for months. But it was not only thrilling, but Benny was the right amount of bad boy with a touch of sweet.

Yet every time you’re with Peter – your boyfriend – did you feel guilty for what you’ve done, and the thoughts that were running through your head. How it would feel to have Benny’s arm around you, hand lazily running up and down your arm. Him whispering sweet nothing’s in your ear. Or how he’d manhandle you the right way behind closed doors.

Peter was nice – maybe a little too nice – but he was who society expected you to be with. Not a Vandal. Even if Benny was extremely better than your boyfriend.

Laying on your bed, wearing one the cute, frilly nighties Benny got you – as he just loved you looking all the bit sweet for him. The clock read eleven-thirty at night. The neighbourhood was rather quiet, while you filled your space with the low volume of a record. The only light in the room was your beside lamp.

You want to say you weren’t waiting up for Benny, but you were. The man had been gone for over a week on a ride with the club. With no indication of when he’d be back.

“I’ll be back sometime soon baby. Wait up for me?”

And like the love sick kitty you are, here you were; longing and waiting. The next song began to play, you sighed rolling onto your back and pouting. You swear he had to be doing this on purpose. He did like to tease you, though this was more torture.

God, you missed his touch, both hands and lips. The way his rough finger tips would glide over your skin, him commenting on how soft you felt. Or how he’d hold onto you, clear display of strength and power.

His lips, a full cupids bow that would softly lift in a smile. A pleased feel to it before he would place it to your neck and lay kisses. First soft and gentle, before becoming sloppy and a little teethy. You’d remind him not to leave any marks, no evidence was key to your little rendezvous. Though Benny wanted more, he wanted you completely.

And you had thought about it, ditching Peter and being Benny’s girl full-time. In theory it was perfect – beautiful even. But in reality, it terrified you. You’d seen how some of the Vandal women were treated by other women in town. Vandal women might as well have a bright red A embroidered on their clothing for the way they are treated.

So going from a sweet and adored community girl to a Vandal's old lady, it would get you treated like a leper. Not to mention your parents. They would go nuts to find out you were with Benny. That’s why secret meetings were best. Your little house the ideal love bubble.

Then you heard it, soft rumbling down the side street, your house being on the corner. Your heart skipped a beat. It had to be him, you just knew it. Sitting up on your bed you strained your hearing. Only to hear the rumbling stop. Again your heart skipped a beat. Yes, it was Benny.

Quickly you moved into a better positing. Sitting so your legs were off to the side, weight resting on your left hand, arm holding you up. You shook your hair, and fixed it with your free hand. Before setting it on your upper thigh. You moistened your lips when you heard movement in the backyard.

You’d pleaded Benny to leave his bike around the side. And jump the back fence, so not to be seen. You made sure to keep the back-door unlocked for him. Only locking it when he doesn’t show up, which was rare. The door handle rattled, and then the door as it was opened. Swiftly it closed and you could hear Benny moving around downstairs, probably removing his boots and jacket.

Excitement filled you and almost exploded when you heard him at the bottom of the staircase.

“Ya up there, baby?” He called out.

You rolled your eyes, but only smiled brighter. “Sure am".

No reply, other than Benny's feet clomping up each step. Every step closer, your heart beat with every step. The anticipation was close to snapping, you were close to just going to Benny and launching yourself at him. But you remained where you were, poised and like a baby doll. Just how he liked it.

Your door slowly swung open, revealing Benny, who moved to lean against your door frame. His stormy blues roamed over you, starting from your feet and moving long your body before reaching your face. A content smile pulled at his full lips, that slightly hid by the scruff on his chin.

He looked just as good as the last time you saw him, yet maybe better. The distance really doing a number on you, on Benny. You could read it on his face, he’d missed you so damn much.

Benny then moved, crossing your room to take a seat beside you. His left arm moving over your hips, hand placed on the bed. He was caging you in. His gaze focused on your face, taking it all in.

“Damn baby, you look better then I remembered" Benny said lowly, voice extra gravelly.

He then looked down your body once more and then back to your face. Solidifying his words. His right hand coming up to pushed back your hair, finger tips grazing your neck and the strap of your nightie, before pushing it over and down.

You shuddered, the way he looked at you and his movements, just driving you wild.

“You don’t look so bad yourself" you replied with a seductive tone. Proud to have managed to get those words out, as your brain was going to mush.

Benny smirked. But remained silent. Opting to leaning in and planting a tender kiss to your rosy lips. You almost fell to the bed in a puddle of goo. And just from a small kiss. Usually it was the long, exploring French kisses Benny served you that had this effect.

His hand came back to your neck, finding its home there, as Benny moved his head while still kissing you. A swipe of his tongue along your bottom lip told you, you were about to get that all nerve ending frazzling kiss.

Without hesitation you opened your mouth, Benny’s tongue darting in and to your own. His hand holding you in place as he greedily kissed you, tongue caressing and possessing yours. Soft noises being ripped from your throat spurring him on more. As well as how much he’d missed you.

Oh God, this man knew how to kiss you, and what it does to you. He could do or ask anything of you right now, and you’d gladly accept or go along with it. Pulling back, you were left kiss drunk, and he had only just begun.

“You look so pretty after I’ve kissed ya...” He muttered, taking you all in.

Benny then moved in again, this time not asking for permission, still working on the permission he’d already received. And you weren’t protesting. With some movement, you laid back on the bed as Benny moved over you, resting between your legs. Those rough hands of his grasping your upper thighs, only to slide upwards, exploring what lay beneath one of his favourite items of clothing to buy you.

He noted the fabric of your panties as his hands moved over your hips. Up the sides of your waist, and over your ribs. Finally finding your breasts, which were free of any covering such as a bra. The supple flesh warm to his palms, as he enjoyed the feel. You sighed into his mouth at the contact he had with them. Telling Benny you had missed his hands there.

Pulling back, Benny moved his lips down the side of your neck. You resorted to tilting your head back from the sensations this man was giving you. His touch gravely missed, his kiss just as much the same.

“Ya feel so good" Benny mumbled against your neck. “Ya always feel so damn good".

More kisses were pressed to your neck, altering between soft and hard. Occasionally grazing his teeth against your flesh. Every time his teeth were used you would make a noise, a mix of a whine and a moan.

“Fuck baby" he groaned. “Keep makin’ those noises and I’m gonna loose it".

Benny tightened his hold on your breasts, telling you he might lose it soon. But it only brought forth a moan from you. Which in turn made him groan.

“I wanna keep goin' baby" Benny started, pulling back from your neck and looking to your face. “But I gotta talk to ya first...”

That was like a bucket of ice water being thrown over you. Putting out the fire that had been growing inside. You wiggled around, to which Benny moved back more, giving you room.

“H-have I done s-something wrong...?” You asked softly, scared to talk at a normal volume.

Benny blinked before shaking his head. “No baby, no!” He paused, watching you relax slightly. “It’s just, I’ve been thinkin’ while on the road...”

You remained quiet, waiting with baited breath for him to continue.

With a sigh Benny got up and took a spot next to you on the bed. Back resting against the headboard of your bed. He wasn’t one for confrontation. But he needed you to hear him out, listen to his concerns and needs.

“I can’t keep doin' this – sneakin’ in and hidin' in this house" he paused, sparing you a look. “I want more baby, I want you, I need you. I want to be your man...”

“You are...” you said softly.

He shook his head. “No I’m not, ya boyfriend is. You go out there with him. Let him show ya off, and it is killin' me. I want to show you off, have you ridin’ on the back of my bike. My woman”.

Benny’s voice gained confidence and desperation. And you heard it – heard him. It pulled at your heartstrings.

“I might not be able to give ya what he might...but I can promise ya I will be here when you need me, always take care of you as best I can. I’ll give ya the whole world if ya ask...I love you so damn much baby...”

That was it, those three little words; I love you. The man next to you saying them after a short time, compared to your boyfriend who still hadn’t said them. Benny laid out all his cards, nowhere to hide.

Without a thought you moved to straddle Benny’s hips, resting your behind on his lap. Hands taking a hold of the gorgeous Vandals face. Your (colour) eyes looking deeply into his, searching to make sure he meant those three little words. And he did.

“Are you sure?” You asked with baited breath. “You love me?”

He nodded. “Yes, baby. I love ya".

You crashed your lips to his, putting everything into it, every emotion you were feeling. Benny grabbed your hips, holding you close to him as he let you kiss him. You took charge. Your tongue pushed into his mouth, exploring and savouring him. After a few moments you pulled back, not without giving him a few more pecks to his lips.

“I-I love you too" you breathlessly said, heart racing.

The smile that cross Benny’s face lit up his face. The words he was relieved to hear, but weren’t expecting. Pulling you in again for a hard, feverish kiss, Benny moved you both around so you were under him again. This was it, the start of something new. You both knew it and were going to do it.

You were going to breakup with Peter, and become Benny’s girl, your parents and the town be damned. And Benny was going to be the man you needed. And right now he would be attentive. After all you’d been patiently waiting for his return. He owed you for staying up waiting for him.

Tomorrow was approaching but right now, all that mattered was you both. Needing, exploring and satisfying the other in every way possible.

[queen-of-the-avengers]

Don't Stop Being You

Pairing: Bartender!Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~4k

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You have always seen the good in people, and the landlord is no exception. The guys are afraid of him but you’re going to prove to Bucky that no matter what, people are generally good. You just didn’t expect the night to backfire on you.

One in a Million Series

Square Filled: experience (2024) for @buckybarnesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

“Tell me again why you wanted me to come to the store with you.”

“We have a budget and I don’t trust the guys to stick to it.”

You look at Bucky. “So, I’m here for moral support?”

“Yeah.”

You chuckle and look back at your phone. He pulls into the store’s parking lot and looks for a spot, seeing one close to the entrance. He even puts his blinker on for good measure and starts to pull into the spot. However, a car on the other side decides he wants the spot and rushes to get it instead. Bucky and the man slam on their breaks, and you look up to see the man cursing at Bucky.

“I was here first! Go around!” Bucky yells back.

“This is my spot!”

“Go around!”

“Come on, Bucky. He’s probably a really nice guy. Maybe he’s having a bad day.”

“Don’t defend him.”

“I’m not!”

“You always do this. He’s in the wrong!”

The man honks the horn, and you two look at him. “Ge that piece of shit out of my space!”

“Why don’t you come over here and say that to my face!”

The man takes out a gun from his coat pocket and shows it off, and you gasp and duck down. Bucky would have gotten out and beaten the man’s ass. However, you’re with him and he doesn’t want to put you in any danger.

“God, that’s a gun!” you gasp.

“Do you still think he’s nice?”

“Maybe no one has ever been nice to him before. Maybe violence is his only tool to express himself.” You pop your head up and smile at the man. “Hi!”

“Stop! What are you doing? Get down!”

“Don’t use the gun. Sorry about this guy,” you say and point to Bucky.

“What are you--Don’t apologize for me!”

“Just put the gun away, okay? No need for that,” you smile. The man nods and puts his gun away, and you wave nicely at him. “Thank you so much.”

“I can’t believe that worked,” Bucky whispers.

The man backs up and puts his hands up apologetically.

“Have a good day!” You wave. “See? You always see the worst in people.”

The shopping trip is now ruined so instead of taking the spot, Bucky pulls away and heads straight home. Grocery shopping can be saved for another day. Maybe this time without you. Sam and Steve are at the kitchen table eating when you get back home, and Steve is on a ramble about his job.

“Disney has been working my butt off. I’m the illustrator for two movies, and they need at least five strips of film before Friday. For both films. That’s three days. Not to mention Natasha. She’s sending me mixed signals. Are we a thing? Does she like me back? Women are hard.” Steve looks up and spots you. “Oh, hey Y/N.”

“Why do you always have to start fights with everyone, Bucky? Not everyone is out to get you.”

“He had a gun, Y/N. I was more worried about you than me. I was ready to beat his ass.”

“See? That’s your problem. Your immediate response is to fight.” You look at Sam and Steve. “Isn’t Bucky one of the most negative people you’ve ever met?”

“Yes,” Sam and Steve agree. “All he does is stare at people. It’s like he’s murdering them in his mind.”

“See? They agree with me,” you smirk.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I guess I don’t live in a world where I can smile and people do whatever I want them to do.”

“You don’t smile. Ever.”

You turn the faucet on to wash your hands only to get a face full of water. You shriek and try turning the water off but to no avail. Bucky jumps in and jerks the faucet to the right before turning off the water. You cough from the water that gets into your mouth, and Steve hands you a dish towel.

“What the fuck was that?” you shiver.

“Don’t feel bad. We’ve all had a face full of water once or twice.”

“There shouldn’t have been any time when you get a face full of water. I’m calling the landlord.” Bucky, Steve, and Sam all protest, and you step back in shock from the outcry. “What?”

“You’re not calling the landlord,” Bucky says.

“He’s a terrible man,” Steve informs.

“Don’t call the landlord,” Sam warns.

“Okay, I won’t call the landlord.”

You really thought you could listen to them when they told you not to go to the landlord, but you can’t help yourself. It doesn’t matter if he’s a terrible man or if the guys are afraid of him, he’s a landlord. If something is broken, he has the responsibility to fix it. Bucky takes the guys on a shopping trip since you couldn’t go earlier despite them never following the budget. You’re all alone which is perfect for what you plan to do.

Desserts are a great way to break the ice, so you whip up a quick batch of delicious chocolate chip cookies. These cookies are universally liked so you don’t think there will be an issue. The landlord lives in the basement of the building, so you use the elevator and head down there. It’s pretty nice for a basement. Why live somewhere else when you can live in your own building?

“Excuse me? Mr. Landlord?”

“Back here.”

You follow the voice to the back of the basement and see a rough and burly man sitting by a table whittling something.

“Hi. I hope you like cookies. I made too many and decided to come down here to see if you could take them off my hands.” He looks up and just stares at you, and you put the plate of cookies on the table. “I’m just gonna leave this right here.”

“What do you want?”

“Okay, I’m one of the people living in apartment 4D, and there is a laundry list of things that are considered a safety hazard. I was just wondering if you could come upstairs and see about getting them fixed.”

The man pretends to think about his answer even though you already know he has it.

“No.”

You nod and look around the place to see what else you can talk about with him. There is a picture hanging on the wall of two stick figures. It looks like it was drawn by a child.

“Oh, that’s neat. How old are your kids?”

“I did that. That’s me and my ex-wife.”

A shiver runs through your spine. “Okay. Listen, my roommates are scared of you, but I can tell you’re not as bad as they say you are. I’m sure you wouldn’t want the four of us living in such a dangerous place.”

“Four?” You freeze. “There should only be three.”

“Did I say four?” You start to stutter. “I’m sorry, I always seem to count myself… twice. Okay, bye.”

You quickly leave before the landlord can say anything else about your situation. By the time you get back to your apartment, the boys are back from shopping.

“Hey, you guys are back,” you smile. “Listen, we should try playing a game. I want you to think of a time when you did something stupid, how you were treated, and how you wish you were treated.”

“What did you do?” Bucky asks.

“I talked to the landlord.”

“What?” All three men stand up in a panic. “Alright, it’s happening. Do we have enough time for Escape Plan 1?”

“What’s going on?”

“Only three people are supposed to be living here. Not four.”

“Why didn't you tell me this? Why did you let me move in?”

“We needed the money!”

Someone knocks on the door, and all four of you seem frozen in fear. No one can move from their spot, but you’re the first one to shake this off. You walk to the front door and open it to reveal the landlord.

“Someone told me four people were living here instead of three?”

Bucky looks at you. “That idiot doesn’t know what she’s talking about.”

“Come on,” you whisper to him.

The landlord pushes his way in and observes the place with judgemental eyes. He walks toward Steve’s room that’s located next to the kitchen, and everyone follows him like sheep. He moves to the bathroom, your room, Bucky’s room, and Sam’s room. Apart from a fourth person living here, the place isn’t as bad as it could be.

“This could have been worse. Four people living here are fine. I don’t care. Just leave me alone.”

“Mr. Landlord? I’m sorry for lying about how many people were living here--”

“Stop reminding him,” Bucky whispers.

“--but since you’re here, why not fix a few things?” The landlord has tattoos running down both of his arms, and you notice a particular one that stands out. “Please, Remy?”

“How do you know my name?”

“It’s tattooed on your skin. I took a leap of faith. Look, Remy, I can tell you’re a good guy.”

He sighs and looks around the place before settling his eyes on you. “Fine. What do you need fixed?”

“Close your eyes and point to something,” Bucky says. 

“Her. Not you.”

You turn and give Bucky a smug smile to which he gives a mocking one back. The most pressing items on the list is your closet door that’s stuck, a leaking faucet in the bathroom, and the faucet in the kitchen. There are other things but you’ll start with those things first and see where Remy is at.

Remy decides to start with your closet door, and you sit on the bed to keep him company. To make him feel more comfortable, you bring up a conversation about his ex wife.

“Sorry about your divorce. I can’t imagine it’s easy.”

Remy gets on his knees and looks at the track your closet door is on. He takes out two of his tools and starts to tinker with it.

“Thanks. I’d say it was sudden but I should have seen it coming. We stopped talking, you know? We stopped doing things we loved. I’d come home and all I’d want to do is crack a beer.”

“Do you have any kids?”

“Oh, God, no. She never wanted any. Claimed that she wanted all my attention on her. Just as well, who would want a landlord as a father?”

“Don’t do that to yourself, Remy. I’d bet you’d make a great father.”

You could have sworn you saw him blush, but you move past it.

“It must have been really hard.”

He shrugs. “It is what it is.” He stands and looks at you. There’s a look of recognition in his eyes. “It was hard.” He drops his tools and steps back from your closet. “Alright. Give her a whirl.”

You get up from your bed and walk over to your sliding closet door. You grab the handle and pull to open it the rest of the way but it’s stuck. You yank a bit harder but again, nothing happens.

“Here, let me try.”

Remy walks up behind you and grabs the closet door. Even with both your strengths, it’s not enough to make the closet door move. Bucky’s in the kitchen when he hears grunting coming from your room. He is about to pass it off when he remembers Remy is in there with you. He scrambles out of his chair and approaches your room not knowing what he is going to see. He scoffs when he sees Remy behind you. He’s so close that your ass is practically touching his dick.

“Okay, that’s enough.” You and Remy part ways. “Can I talk to you alone, please?”

You leave Remy in your room and join Bucky in the kitchen with a smug smile.

“Ready to admit you were wrong?”

“That man wants to sleep with you.”

“No, he doesn’t. He was just showing me how to open the closet door.”

“Anytime a man shows a woman how to do something from behind, it’s just an excuse to make her heart race and get her all nervous in the cute way women get when they’re nervous. Here, let me show you.” He spots a mug on the table. “Pick up that mug.” You shake your head and pick up the mug. “Oh, no, Doll, you’re doing it all wrong. Here, let me show you.”

Bucky walks behind you and wraps his thick arms around you. For a split second, you allow yourself to feel what it feels like to have Bucky’s arms around you. You close your eyes and relax into his embrace, feeling your heart race. He moves his head closer to your neck so his nose brushes against your jaw. A shiver runs down your spine; and no, you’re not cold. Despite Bucky’s metal arm, he makes you feel warm.

Is this what love feels like? No. You can’t be doing this to yourself. Your eyes pop open and you shove Bucky away from you before you start to confess your feelings for him.

“He was not doing that!”

“That’s exactly what he was doing to you!”

“You always see the worst in people!”

“That’s because people are the worst.” He holds up his metal arm. “How do you think I got this arm?”

You sigh and look away from him. “People can be good, Bucky. You just have to give them a chance. Why can’t you just admit you were wrong? I was nice and now he’s fixing stuff in our apartment.”

Remy walks out of your bedroom without his shirt on. He has an undershirt on but it covers even less than what his shirt was covering.

“Man, I am working up a sweat. I hope you don’t mind the smell of a real man in your room.” He grabs a cup from the cabinet and pours himself a glass of water. “Let me know when you want to get started on that bed.”

When Bucky can’t see him anymore, he looks at you with a disgusted look.

“Don’t give me that look. He’s turning my mattress.”

“Yeah, sure he is.”

You roll your eyes and leave Bucky standing in the kitchen all alone. The things in your bedroom don’t take a lot of time, but the leaky faucet in the bathroom does. In fact, it takes all day. During which you got soaked from the faucet spraying all over your shirt. Bucky hears your squeal and sees you coming out of the bathroom in laughter.

He, Sam, Steve, and Natasha are in the living room just watching you and Remy walk out with water all over you.

“Oh, hey, Nat. You guys would not believe what just happened. I was watching Remy fixing the sink when water sprayed all over me. I was totally soaked.”

“You were so wet,” Remy smirks.

Bucky has to stop himself from going to Remy and beating the shit out of him.

“Man overboard! So, to thank Remy for the work he’s been doing, I invited him to dinner. Who’s in?”

“Um, Steve and I have something planned,” Natasha mumbles.

“Yeah, I have a… thing to do,” Sam follows.

“No, thanks,” Bucky straight-out says.

“So, it’s just me and Y/N, huh?” Remy asks.

“Oh, no,” Bucky immediately says. “I change my mind. I’ll be there.”

Bucky crosses his arms to make them look bigger, and you have to look away before he catches you staring at him. Natasha smirks when she sees the slight blush on your cheeks but thankfully, doesn’t comment on it. Everyone but you, Remy, and Bucky leave the apartment, and you start making something light for dinner. Salad, a little bit of chicken, and a nice bottle of wine. It’s nothing fancy, just whatever you had leftover in the fridge. Remy, after getting ready in the basement, brought his own bottle of wine… that he made himself.

“Remy brought over… whatever this is.”

“I ferment things in the basement.”

You pour yourself a glass of the homemade wine, but Bucky has other plans for you.

“You’re not drinking that, Y/N.”

“Yes, I am.” You grab the cup before he can and take a huge sip. That was a mistake. It’s fucking disgusting. You spit out most of it and swallow the rest, but you give Bucky a wounded smile. “See? Yum.”

“Would you like some?” Remy asks.

“Oh, no, thank you. Someone needs to stay sober to fight you later.”

“Bucky,” you hiss. “Stop it. You and Remy actually have a lot in common.” You look at Remy. “Bucky got out of a really bad relationship last year. I heard it was really bad.”

“In the end, we all go through the same issues,” Remy says.

“Okay,” Bucky whispers.

Dinner was mostly awkward but by the end of it, Remy and Bucky were in a much better mood. You three take the small party to the couch. Remy takes a sip of his fermented wine and laughs.

“Man, I didn’t think I’d ever get to enjoy myself again. Thank you for what you did here tonight.” You give him a kind smile. “I’ll be right back.”

When Remy leaves the living room, you move closer to Bucky.

“See? I was right.”

“What do you mean? Did you see the way he was buttering me up so he could move in on you?”

“Why can't you just admit you were wrong?”

“How can you live this long on your own?”

“There is no part of that man that wants to sleep with me.”

“He’s been creeping on you all night!”

“No, he hasn’t!”

Bucky is about to answer when Remy walks back into the living room. Only this time, he’s not wearing any pants. The look on Bucky’s face is enough for you to turn and notice Remy.

“Hey, Remy, what happened to your pants?” you stutter.

“I’ve never had a threesome before.” Your mouth drops several inches in shock. “That’s what we’re doing, right?”

“Okay, I never expected this,” Bucky mutters.

“I’ll be in the bedroom.”

He turns and leaves, and it takes several long seconds before you can find your voice.

“What the fuck?” you whisper.

You get off the couch and approach your bedroom slowly. Remy is inside doing leg stretches. You chuckle and close the bedroom door before turning to Bucky.

“I love watching you be wrong, Y/N,” Bucky smirks.

“Okay, I admit. Tonight is a bad night, but people are generally good. I’m not wrong about that.”

“People are jerks.”

“He is hurting from his divorce--”

“You’re seriously making excuses for this man?” Bucky smirks. “If you feel so bad then get in there.” You open the door and see Remy doing lunges to get himself warmed up. You chuckle nervously and shut the door again. “I’m so turned on right now.”

“You would seriously have a threesome with him just to get me to admit that I’m wrong?”

“We could do a lot worse than Remy. He’s got strong arms,” he says sarcastically.

Okay, now he’s making it into a game. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out now. Like hell, you’re going to be the one to admit that you were wrong. You’re going to get Bucky to admit that he was wrong even if takes you all night. You kick your shoes off and Bucky’s eyes widen slightly.

“Let’s have a threesome.”

You turn and head inside your room. Remy grins at the thought of doing this with you two, and he grabs your wrist to pull you in closer.

“So, a menage a trois is about three people… a trois… menaging fully.”

“Got it,” you nod.

“This is happening right now,” Bucky says. “We’re doing this.”

“Yeah,” you nod.

“Okay, this is going to get uncomfortable, but as long as we keep communicating, we will get through this. Let’s get some relaxing music going on in here.”

“Great idea,” Bucky says. Remy walks over to the small radio on your desk, and Bucky turns to you with panicked eyes. “Why can’t you admit that you’re wrong?”

“Why can’t you admit that he’s a good guy?” you whisper back

“We are about to have a menage a trois with this guy because you can’t admit that you’re wrong.”

“You are out of your mind. All I’m saying is that he’s a good guy.”

Music starts playing and Remy dances over to you and Bucky. You and Bucky stop whisper-fighting to dance along to the music.

“Yeah, get into it,” Remy grins.

“Oh, I am so into this. Are you into this, Y/N?”

“Yeah, I am.”

“Admit that you were wrong and this will stop.”

“Nope. I love this song. Turn it up.”

Remy walks up behind Bucky and starts massaging his shoulder. His first instinct is to turn and deck the bitch in the face, but he won’t result to violence. He tries to shrink away from Remy but the older man won’t let Bucky go anywhere. Bucky’s face contorts in panic because he knows that Remy can’t see him. He glares at you but you refuse to back down. Honestly, you want to know what Bucky will do if you refuse to back down. Will he let things go too far?

“I know this is awkward but the more you loosen up, the better it will be. Right now, I’m just massaging your shoulders, but then I will be unbuttoning your pants.”

“Okay,” Bucky says, his voice cracking.

Honestly, this is kind of funny. At this point, it’s about how far you can push Bucky. How far is he willing to go if you’re willing to go all the way? Bucky hates when people touch him so it’s a miracle that Remy is getting as far as he can with him now. Remy slides one of his hands in Bucky’s hair, and Bucky looks at you with fire in his eyes.

“Then I’m going to unbutton my shirt, but I’m going to keep my underpants on.” Remy pulls away from Bucky but the relief is short-lived. Remy takes one of Bucky’s hands and one of your hands, bringing them together. “Right now, you two get us started.”

Oh, fuck. You don’t know if you can do this.

“You want Y/N and I to get it started?” Bucky looks at you and his grip on both your hands gets tighter. “Are you doing this?”

“Yes, are you doing this?”

“I will do this, Y/N,” Bucky says seriously.

“Good because so will I.”

“Say you’re wrong and this is over.”

“I’m not wrong. You admit that you’re wrong and then this can end.”

“Fine, let’s do this.”

Bucky grabs both sides of your face and leans in. No, this isn’t how you want this to happen. This isn’t how you imagined your first kiss with Bucky. You imagine it’s after you tell him how much you like him. Love, if it even gets there. You imagine doing it in private with no one else around. You imagine sparks to fly, like you two are meant to be.

No, this is all wrong. You are… wrong. Before Bucky’s lips can touch yours, you push him away in anger. Not at him but at yourself.

“Fine! I admit it! I’m wrong!”

“Yes!”

“Sorry, Remy,” you sigh.

“What is going on here?”

You, Remy, and Bucky look at the door to see Sam standing there with a confused look on his face.

“I’m not ready for a four-way. I’m out,” Remy says before leaving.

“Get out,” you sigh. “Please.”

Bucky looks at you and immediately feels bad for the entire evening. Still, he and Sam leave you alone in your room. A few hours pass before someone knocks on your door, and you open it to see Bucky standing there.

“Listen, Y/N--”

“Whatever you have to say, don’t. I’m not in the mood.”

You turn and walk to your bed but leave the door open for him to either come in or close it.

“Just because I see the worst in people, that doesn’t mean you should stop seeing the good in them. I admire that about you.”

You look at him with a smile. “Were you really going to kiss me?”

Bucky returns the smile and grabs the doorknob. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

Guess you’ll never know, but deep down, you know the answer.

“Goodnight, Bucky.”

x

Want to be tagged? Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[starfox017]

Life Series College AU

Hi guys! This is my first time ever writing fanfiction! (i'm fueled by the hyperfixation) and I wanted to share the very first bit of the Life Series College AU I wrote! ---

Alright New school You’ve done this before But this is different right? I mean college, that’s a BIG deal. Will you know anyone here? Well, of course you will. Pearl’s here, and so is Mumbo. Maybe I’ll find other friends too.

I feel a fist punch my shoulder and I flinch at the impact, only to see Pearl on my right side skipping along the sidewalk. “Hey! Stop being so much in your brain, brain is bad. It’s college, you have got nothing to worry about. No one knows you here, it’s a brand new experience, with brand new people!”

“Yeah but—” I can feel the binder pressing against my chest, all the air starts to leave my lungs. “No buts!” Pearl turns in front of me and grabs my shoulders. “Just breathe. Okay? If anyone messes with you, just call me, okay? Now get in there, and make a good first impression! What’s your first class?”

“I- I think it's the history of architecture?” I say, swallowing the lump in my throat. I roll my shoulder back and stick my head up and fill myself with fake confidence. My words taste artificial, and my brain is filled with lies. Pearl and I stroll into class together, having the same class. She leaves me to sit across the room.

“This is for your own good. You need to be your own person, make your own friends.” I sit alone in an empty room, way too early for class. I fiddle with my fingers and start to pick at the dry skin around my nails. I wince at the slight pain of removing a hangnail, and see a drop of blood appear. Shit. I stick my finger in my mouth and try to remove the blood so no one notices. People begin to enter the room, sparcing themselves everywhere. I turn to stare at Pearl. From across the room she gives me a thumbs up with a warm smile. I quickly take the finger out of my mouth and give a thumbs up back, a fake smile plastered across my face.

“Why hello there!” “AAAH!” A voice startles me from behind, appearing at my left is a person propping up their cane against the chair next to them.

“Sorry, did I startle you?”

“Yes, sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing, for being scared? My name is Scar!”

“My name is- Grian” I say, the words not wanting to come out of my mouth. What do I tell people? The truth, or a lie? Is it even a lie anymore?

“Is that a question? I don’t know what your name is, sorry about that buddy.”

“NO! No. That’s- I’m sure. My name is Grian. That’s what my name is! Why would it be anything else?”

“I don’t know! I’ve never seen you in this class before. OH YOU’RE NEW! Welcome, welcome. Oh you’re going to love this class! Professor Andersson is the best!” Scar’s eyes flash to the professor standing at the front of the classroom. He’s dressed up in a blue crew neck shirt and some black pants, exactly what you would expect an engineering teacher to prepare. He adjusts his classes before introducing the class. I try to pay attention, but my mind keeps drifting to the man sitting next to me. He said he was a junior. He’s older than me, but acts so much younger. He has a goofy smile on his face always, and has such a way of speaking unlike anyone else I’ve ever heard. His hair is long and outgrown looking like a nest a bird would make, yet magnificent in a way you don’t normally see in a man. His green eyes gleamed like grass covered in mud but shone with sparkles of emeralds in the fluorescent light of the classroom. He had tan skin with a scar across his cheek— fitting with his name. When you stared at him enough, he was almost pretty. His face danced through my brain the rest of the class. If you want to hear more about what I have planned for this AU, feel free to ask me! I hope you guys like this, as I've never written fanfiction before.

[lottielovelace]

princess — chapter two

(ghost x könig's-sister!reader)

summary: Finally you get a chance to visit Simon. You just hope he hasn't forgotten about you. (aka two people trying their best to hide how incredibly into each other they are)

originally posted on ao3 (chapter length: 1,318 words)

Rating: M

Relationships: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader, background platonic relationships

Ao3 Tags FOR THE FIC AS A WHOLE, bolded is for this specific chapter: Past Rape/Non-con / Rape Recovery / Male Victim of Sexual Assault / Canonical Rape/Non-con (Simon's) / First Time / Getting Together / Manchester as a setting / disclaimer: author has not been to manchester / Simon does bare-knuckle boxing as a hobby / Sparring as Flirting / wrestling as flirting / Identity Porn / Non-Explicit Sex / reader is konig's half sister / Unmasked Simon "Ghost" Riley (while on leave) / reader knows that simon is in the military but doesn't know he’s ghost / medium speed burn

this is a part of a series and a multichapter fic (Ch1, Ch2)

Author’s Note: Happy Valentine's! I did promise more Simon this time

The next day, you headed to Stuart's bright and early. You didn't want to spend any longer in your crappy hostel than you had to.

You got off the tram, walked a couple blocks, and flashed a friendly—if nervous—smile at the secretary. She returned it with an encouraging thumbs up and beckoned you to enter the training area.

Only one figure stood in the ring, his back to you. The workout garb revealed so much more than the heavy winter garments he had worn undercover in the prison.

You let the door slam behind you.

He whirled around: hair rustled, undereyes dark, sweat sheening over scarred skin. God, he was beautiful.

"Hi," your voice was breathless.

“I thought I saw you earlier,” if Simon was surprised, he didn't let his voice betray it.

“Where?” you asked, tilting your head inquisitively.

“Yesterday, on the street.”

You tried your best not to visibly wilt as you began your retreat.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Simon squinted in confusion, “What for?”

"I didn't realize you didn't want me to— and then I go barging in on your life like—"

"No, no," Simon interrupted, realizing what you were trying to stammer out. “I wasn’t avoiding you. I just—“ he tensed for a moment, conflicted as he found his words. "The only reason I didn't talk to you was I wasn’t quite sure whether you were real or not.”

Oh. Right. You knew Simon wasn’t normal, but this was a harsh reminder that he was a soldier, with all the messiness that came along with the job title. You felt so silly for forgetting. Soldiers came with body counts. Baggage. Ghosts. You knew firsthand from your brother and Horangi that it could make things, relationships, life… difficult. Worth it, but not easy.

“Does that happen often?” you kept your voice light and airy. He trusted you enough to confide this, you didn’t want him to regret the decision or fear that he'd scared you off.

“Not when I’m on the right meds. Glad to know you’re real, means I don’t need a new prescription.”

A devious smirk emerged on your face, “Only happy at that?”

“No… it’s just—“ After all your angsting over seeing him, it was nice to see someone else do the squirming for once. It was also kinda cute. There was a power in your words having this man, this killer, damn near flustered. “It’s good to see you. Really good.”

You cocked an eyebrow, “Likewise.” You approached him slowly, gently placing your hands on his forearm. "See, real as can be."

Ghost's expression remained unchanged, but his pale face flushed.

"Good. Did you come here just to see me or…"

"Or what?" you asked, curious as to his suggestion.

"Well, I am supposed to be supervising open gym. Did'ya want to spar?"

You pondered for a moment. "I wouldn't be against it."

"Any experience with hand to hand?"

You shrugged off your sweater, "I've taken a couple of self defense classes." You kept your answer purposefully vague. He didn't need to know that you'd received many a private lesson from a former ROK Special Mission Brigade member (one who wanted to ensure no harm came to his 여동생). "But not bare-knuckle boxing."

Simon chuckled lowly, "Yeah, 't's not the most practical style."

"Then why do you…"

"On the battlefield, you do what you have to to survive. Playing dirty isn't just allowed, it's required. I'm used to taking any advantage I can. It's… nice to not do that for once. To let my skills stand on their own." A wry smile. "Make sure they haven't atrophied too much." His smile dropped, "But let's not box."

"Why not? Think I can't handle it?"

"It's not… I just, I don't want to hit you." There was something in his tone that hinted that striking someone he—well, you didn't know if "loved" was the right term yet, but someone he cared about hit a little too close to home. "Let's…" he thought for a moment, "wrestle instead. Would that be alright?"

"Sure."

"Let's try starting with a simple lockup. Normally I would try to pair you with someone closer to your weight class but," he gestured at the empty room, "not really an option right now. Don't worry, I'll go easy on you."

He wasn't lying. His grip was gentle, with no force or malice behind it. Arms wrapped around each other, he offered little resistance as you twisted, catching him off guard and knocking him down.

Simon was pleasantly surprised.

"That's good," he said from the ground, still flat on his back. "Solid form."

"Beginner's luck," you responded bashfully, bending down to look at his face. The same eyes you saw at the prison stared back up at you.

Getting to his feet, Simon ordered "Another."

While a little more cautious, he still wasn't fully on alert. This was a mistake.

THWAP!

Once again, he hit the mat first.

This time, Simon stood up with a dangerous look in his eyes.

No orders this time as he wordlessly commanded you to lock up again.

His grip still wasn't entirely engaged. You assumed that he still hadn't learned his lesson. You were wrong.

He didn't try to overpower you, use his size or use his muscular advantage to force you to the ground.

He just moved, darting with a quickness unfathomable for a man of his size. You blinked, and it was your turn to hit the floor. Looking up at the ceiling, you could see Simon's shit-eating grin staring back at you. For such a quiet man, he really did have an expressive face. You wondered how that worked on the field. Maybe he mostly did stuff over the comms.

You got up carefully, a plan blooming in your mind.

"I want to go again."

Simon happily obliged you, locking up. He gave you an opening to attack. When you did nothing, he went for a repeat of the last round.

Only this time you knew better.

This time, as your body fell, you tucked and rolled: resulting in you on top, triumphant. Simon seemed a little impressed. You were about to brag when— BAM! He used your distracted state to flip you, now pinning you beneath him. You squirmed trying to get any leverage, to no avail. His weight was enough to trap you. His unmoving weight. Simon had frozen, going deathly still.

Why— oh. Oh.

Simon was the first one to break the silence.

"Do you know how to get out of this?"

"I have a guess."

"Guessing isn't good enough," he chided. "Not when somebody wants to kill you. Or—" he inhaled sharply. "Worse."

You didn't like that you couldn't see his face right now. Using Horangi's training, you strained against him as if trying to brute force your way out—only to juke him, suddenly striking the other way, and driving your elbow into the soft of his solar plexus. He fell off you with a low groan at a timbre that made you blush.

Finally you could see his face. Despite now grimacing from the pain, he also appeared to be… relaxed by it and its grounding familiarity.

"Good practice," he declared, still a little weak.

"You're a good teacher," you sat up beside him.

"I'm afraid I didn't teach you very much."

"A good partner then,. Simon's demeanor seemed to ever so slightly brighten at your words. You laughed, leaning back. "I need a shower."

He winced.

"The ones at the gym are broken."

"Shit!"

Simon raised an eyebrow as if saying that was a bit of an extreme reaction, innit?

"What's wrong?"

"The hostel I'm staying in doesn't have a shower."

Simon's nose wrinkles, "Doesn't sound like it'd smell all that pleasant."

"It really isn't."

A beat.

And Simon spoke up, voice as fragile as his hopes.

"You could come to my place."

[lovelytsunoda]

love is a losing game | Jake "Hangman" Seresin

PART I - Wonderwall

Summary: Detectives Jessica Statham and Jake Seresin are ready to tie the knot! Fast forward six years, and they're trying desperately to have a baby. Feeling the mounting pressure of his job, his mortgage and the rising cost of living, Jake's looking for an answer to all his problems. Enter his partner, Detective Bradley Bradshaw, who has an idea for a side gig that might not be entirely legal

Chapter Warnings: Mentions of fertility issues, depictions of a car accident and miscarriage. Mentions of mental health struggles. Jessie really wants to be a mother, Jake gets told he has a lower than average sperm count. Infidelity (NOT FROM JESSIE OR JAKE) Bradley is actually such a horrible person I’m so sorry but someone had to be the bad guy here. Intense violence.

Author's Note: Guys I feel like I'm back in my Wattpad era here! Anyone who regularly reads my shit knows I'm awful at continuing series (Rip to the Welcome to Wherever You Are Verse and the Radiator Springs series) but I've had Bosch on the brain lately and its giving me ideas like no other. I hammered out most of this chapter in like two hours.

Cop Terms Glossary: RHD (Robbery-Homicide Division), Vice (a division of the police department assigned to crimes related to gambling & prostitution)

Series Masterlist

June 2017

“Well, I’m beat. Anybody want a stiff drink?” Detective Tom Kazansky asked around as they filed out of the courtroom and down the hallway.

Since the Kelly Garrett trial had concluded for the day, Jessica had been strangely quiet, staring down at her phone almost as soon as she had left the courtroom.

“Yeah, why not.” Pete Mitchell relented, turning to look at his desk officer. “Jessie, you in?”

Her head snapped up from her cell phone, tendrils of cherry-red hair falling in front of her eyes. She had been working with the two detectives for just under two years. Kazansky was easygoing and the two had clicked fast, but Mitchell had taken her a lot longer to warm up to. He seemed to see conspiracies everywhere, but as much as she hated to admit it, he was usually right. She and Mitchell had an unusual bond, and it raised many eyebrows around the department.

Six months ago, in pursuit of both a ring of dirty cops who had murdered her patrol mentor, Javy Machado, as well as the killer of a pornography director, Jessica had been caught in the bloody crossfires of a daylight shooting on her day off. The bullet had grazed her leg, and put her out of commission for a week. Seeing that the wife of the dead man who shot her was currently on trial for murder, Mitchell and Kazansky thought she’d be a little more attentive.

“Actually,” she grinned, tapping her manicured nails against her phone case, giddy with excitement. “I have a date.”

Mitchell raised his eyebrows. “A date?”

“Yeah. He’s also a cop. He works patrol out of Franklin, near Thai Town. I met him when the trial first started.”

“I’ll be damned.” Tom grinned. “Who would have thought. Go on, don’t let us keep you. And don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

Jessie gave him a look as she turned to walk out the main courthouse doors. “Knowing you and Pete, that doesn’t stop me from doing much.”

Pete laughed. “She’s got us there, Tom.”

“Yeah, she does.”

Detective Pete Mitchell found it hard to believe that conversation had taken place just three years prior. He was ruminating over it as he pulled his Jeep into a parking space near the marina hall, taking in the balloons, partygoers and the chalkboard sign outside the entrance.

Welcome to the wedding of Jake Seresin and Jessica Statham.

“They grow up fast, don’t they?” Tom Kazansky wisecracked from the passenger seat. “She’s come a long way, as a person and as a cop.”

“I’ve never been prouder of someone I’ve mentored.” Pete agreed. “Come on, let’s get in there soon so we don’t have to sit at the back with the riff raff.”

Kazansky laughed. “The riff raff? You know its mostly cops in there, right?”

“They’re vice cops, Tom. Vice cops.”

The front hall of the building was deserted, a hair metal love ballad playing over the speaker as guests filed into the main room. To his right, Pete could see the bridal party gathering together. Jessie was in the middle, looking radiant in a simple white dress. Her hair was back its natural color, cascading in waves over her shoulders and back. Mickey Garcia, another RHD detective, was fiddling with her hair, attempting to straighten the ribbon holding it back from her face.

“Mickey, stop touching things! Natasha spent like two hours on this!”

Mickey and Jessie had come up through patrol together, alongside Javy Machado. They had gotten closer after Javy died, and Jessie continued to think of him as one of her best friends. He was always there to give her guidance, or listen to her rant about whatever rule Pete had broken that day.

“I thought you stopped listening to this stuff after the Ansel Howard appeal?” Pete remarked, approaching the group.

Jessie turned to face him, eyes lighting up. “Pete! You made it! And don’t talk about that disgusting man on my wedding day, please.” She resisted the urge to shudder thinking about the convicted felon who had leered at her in court and sent threatening letters to her house, or how his lawyer tried to tear her apart on the stand with her sealed juvenile record. “I’m glad you made it.”

Pete pulled her in for a hug, and had a vague sense that soon enough, he’d be watching his own daughter go through the same motions. “You might want to get Natasha to check your hair again. Make sure she can fix whatever Garcia has done to it.”

“It was crooked!” Mickey protested

Jessie giggled, pulling away from the detective. “I will. Hi, Tom. Thanks for coming.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” The other detective said, giving her a quick hug. “I hope we’re not too late.”

Jessie shook her head. “Just in time, actually.”

The detectives filed out the door, settling in at the wide end of the dock, where white wooden chairs with large ribbons on the backs had been set up. Ron Kerner, the chief desk officer out of Hollywood station, had saved the pair seats.

Back in the marina hall, Jessie was vibrating with excitement as the bridesmaids and groomsmen lined up to make their entrance. Jake Seresin was standing at the front with his mother, and Natasha had dramatically covered his eyes with a sleeping mask as everyone fell into their practiced positions. Jessie’s dad linked his arm with hers as Natasha passed her the bouquet of wildflowers.

“I’m so happy for you, Jessie.” Natasha gushed. “Don’t think about anything else out there. Just you and Jake.”

“Thank you, Nat. I’m ready to start whenever you guys are.”

The music started up, something neutral and cheery, as the groom and his mother, followed by the paired off bridesmaids and groomsmen (or, in Mickey’s case, Mickey and one of Jake's groomsmen striding down the dock like football players taking to the field at the Super Bowl). Jessie watched from the doorway, a wide smile on her face and feeling of elation in her stomach that was quickly weighed down by nerves.

Her dad squeezed her arm, looking down at her. “You’ve got this, kiddo.”

The music changed one final time, a soft new wave song from the mid-nineties. Jessie took a deep breath, tightened her hold on the bouquet, and began to walk down the pier. It was a beautiful day outside, sunlight reflecting off the blue water of the Marina del Rey. But all of that paled in comparison to the sight of her husband to be standing at the altar.

Jake Seresin took her breath away in his tight black suit, white carnations pinned to his lapel. His usually messy hair was moderately tamed, and Jessie had no doubt that he would smell like hair gel when she stood across from him. Goosebumps rose on her skin from the breeze, but she didn’t feel cold.

No, she felt warmth blossom through her chest when she saw Jake see her in her dress for the first time. His face went pink with emotion, tears pricking at his eyes.

Please don’t cry, she thought. If you cry, so will I, and then my mascara will run and the pictures will be ruined.

Her walk down the aisle seemed to both take too long and not long enough as she passed Natasha her bouquet, moving to stand in front of JaKe. One of his calloused hands came out to hold hers, rubbing reassuring circles on her palm.

“You look beautiful.” He choked out, tearing up. “I love you so much.”

She beamed at him, trying to keep her own emotions in check. “I love you too, Jacob Arthur Seresin.”

Behind them, the officiant cleared his throat. “It’s a little too soon for the vows, kids. I do have a speech to get through, you know.”

The couple laughed, refusing the let go of their held hands. The officiant began his speech, and Jessie took a peek out at the crowd. The seats were full, and she was floored that so many people had cared enough about her to come and watch her marry the man she wanted to spend the rest of her life with.

“Now, I know you guys are both cops, and there are default vows that cops usually say at these things,” the officiant started “but I do believe the bride and groom have written their own vows.”

From that moment forward, Jessie tattooed Jake’s vows to the inside of her brain. His vows to protect her, to love her, to always have her back, to cherish her. To be her safe haven when the world became too much.

And seven years later, when he walked out of their house in handcuffs, there was another promise he made that she couldn’t help but repeat like a mantra.

To never let her become a single mother.

Four years later

Jessie’s aging Volkswagen Golf waited in the intersection, blinker on with the expectation that traffic would cool enough for her to take the left hand turn that would set her and Jake back on their way to Los Angeles. They had spent the weekend in Pasadena with her parents, as well as her cousins and their kids.

She would be hesitant to admit it out loud, but seeing Jake interact with her nieces and nephews lit a fire inside her that she never knew was there. He was so good with kids, and she couldn’t help but wonder how he would act with a kid of his own. She knew in her gut that she would be such a good father.

“Will’s daughter is adorable.” Jake remarked, his hand trailing to Jessie’s jean-clad thigh. The radio hummed softly in the background, playing an old Huey Lewis song that they had danced to at their wedding. “Did you see the way she followed your sister around the kitchen, waving that wooden spoon about.”

Jessie snorted, tapping her fingernails against the steering wheel. “I thought she was going to take her brother’s eye out with that thing.”

The light changed from green to yellow. Seeing a gap in traffic, Jessie took her foot off the brake and completed her turn. Or at least, she tried to. There was a sickening crash as another vehicle cut in front of her, taking off the front end of her hood. The seatbelt dug into her stomach as the car spun around, her forehead snapping against the steering wheel right before the airbags engaged.

“Jessica!” Jake shouted after the car had stopped, straining around his seatbelt and the airbag dust to get a glimpse of his wife. “Jessica!” He fumbled with the car door, slicing through his seatbelt with the Swiss Army Knife in his jeans pocket.

He ran around the back of the car, ignoring the other driver who was cursing a storm at him over the wreckage of his Tesla. Jake clawed at the door, desperate to get to his wife. “Jess.” He said firmly, sawing at her seatbelt. She was groggy, but awake. She seemed unharmed, but Kevin wouldn’t know until he got her out of there.

“Jake?” She murmured, reaching for the collar of his flannel shirt.

“I’m right here, baby. Right here.”

With a sharp tug, he pulled her out of the driver’s seat, setting her down on the road. The Tesla driver was still shouting, screaming about how he was going to call the cops.

“You just hit two cops, you self-righteous son of a bitch!” Jake cried, fumbling for his badge. “Detective Jake Seresin, Hollywood Vice. Now I need you to call my wife a goddamn ambulance!”

Jessie’s jeans were soaked with blood, and there was a cut running down the side of her head where she was hit with broken glass from her rearview mirror.

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding real bad. Are you hurt?”

Jessie shook her head, trying hard to keep her eyes open.  “Just my head, I think. And my stomach. But it feels more like a cramp.”

“Just keep holding my hand, baby. I’m calling it in.” Kevin tried to stay levelheaded. There were a whole manner of injuries Jessie could have that weren’t visible. Internal bleeding, broken bones. His fingers stained his screen protector with blood as he dialed the 911 circuit board. “This is Detective Jake Seresin, my wife, Detective Jessica Seresin and I were just in a car accident in Pasadena, at the intersection near Robinson Stadium. We need an ambulance and two patrol units.”

The next few hours felt like an incoherent blur. Jake was largely fine aside from some bruising on his ribs from the airbags. Jessie’s condition was more complex, and Jake was worrying himself sick as he paced up and down the hospital waiting room, hoping that when the doctor came out, it would be with good news. He breathed a sigh of relief when he was finally allowed into the room to see her. The only other time they had been to the emergency room together was when Jessie had her heart episode, right in the middle of one of the LAPD’s most high-profile cases. Considering she had worked that case with Pete Mitchell, it was no surprise that it had driven her to a near heart attack.

He sat next to her hospital bed, taking her hand in his. There was a red mark on her hand where her wedding ring had been, now sitting on the nightstand next to her. Jessie was awake, and mostly alert. There was a bandage on the side of her head, but other than that, she seemed to be fine.

“Jake, you’re okay.” Jessie breathed, squeezing his hand. “I was worried about you.”

“I was worried about you, Jess. That was a lot of blood.”

“The doctor should be in in a moment.” The nurse standing next to Jessie’s bed gave the couple a tired smile as she finished adjusting Jessie’s IVs.

Shortly after the nurse had left, a broad-shouldered doctor came into the room, brandishing a clipboard. He cleared his throat before introducing himself to Jake. “Well, the good news is that you both are fine. All wounds were minor, but you both should be on the lookout for any delayed symptoms, especially those associated with whiplash.” The doctor paused. “Now for the bad news. Your baby didn’t make it.”

Jake sat up straighter. He felt Jessie’s hand tighten around his as she weakly gasped out “what baby?”

The doctor’s eyes widened. “Did you not know? Mrs. Seresin, you were nine weeks pregnant.”

Jessie froze in place, before letting out a choked wail. “No. No, no, no…”

“Oh, Jessica.” Jake sighed, feeling his heart shatter “I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know. I swear to God I didn’t know.” She sobbed, leaning against her husband for support.

“I know, honey. I know. I’ve got you.”

The months that followed were rough on both parties. Jessie withdrew from Jake, burying herself in her work. Jake started drinking, staying out later with his colleagues. He hated that Jessica was in so much pain and that there wasn’t anything he could do about it. At the same time, he was grieving what could have been. He didn’t realize just how badly he wanted to be a father until the universe ripped that opportunity from him.

It all came to a head when he came home from work and found Jessica sobbing on the kitchen floor, practically catatonic. She had required inpatient psychiatric care after that, at a facility in Santa Clarita. It wasn’t an easy decision for Jake to make, and he worried what the people around him would think, would say behind his back. But he didn’t know what else to do.

The day he dropped Jessica off at the facility, he drove back home in silence. Every song that came on in his Dodge Charger reminded him of her. When he got home, he sat on their living room couch and cried his eyes out. He slept in the guest bedroom for weeks afterwards.

So, when she approached him seven months after she came home from Santa Clarita and told him she wanted to start trying for another baby, he was hesitant. He couldn’t see her put herself through that cycle of guilt and shame again.

“Jessica, are you sure this is something you want?”

They were sitting on the patio together, her legs thrown over his. He had a beer in his hand, and she had an old-fashioned glass bottle of cream soda. She did look better. Her skin was a healthy color, and she had put on enough weight that she looked healthy. She was eating better, staying hydrated. She was almost back to being the woman that Jake had married.

Almost. There was something stirring behind her eyes, just below the surface.

“Jake, I’m better now. I’m medicated, I’m emotionally stable. I know you feel like the bad guy for sending me, but the psych ward did wonders for me.”

Jake winced. “I wish you wouldn’t call it that.”

“Why? That’s what it was. An inpatient mental health facility.”

“Psych ward just sounds so…rough. It was more like high-class rehab for people with mental health issues.”

“Jake, look at me.” She said sternly, resting a hand on his chest. “I want this. But more than that, I want this with you. Nobody else.”

Later that night, after a tender night spent pressed up against each other underneath cotton sheets, they lay next to each other in bed. Jessica had her legs up the wall, like the fertility websites she had spent the week reading had told her to do. Jake lay the opposite way, their faces meeting in the middle of the bed. She was mindlessly tracing shapes against his hairy chest, lost in thought.

“You’re going to be a phenomenal mother.” Jake said sincerely, taking her hand in his. “And this baby is going to be so loved.”

She met his gaze. “You really think we can do it?”

“I know we can. There’s nobody else I would want to bring a child into the world with but you, Jessica.”

Getting pregnant wasn’t easy either. Before long, it became a routine of ovulation calendars and fertility vitamins, as well as routine pregnancy tests. Five months of this routine went by before Jake brought up the elephant in the room and suggested they see a doctor, knowing full well that the LAPD’s insurance coverage didn’t apply to specialist doctors. Especially ones that dealt with fertility issues.

Jessica thought that it was her fault. That something had happened to her womb in the accident that would make it impossible for her to bear children. Four tests and three doctor’s appointments later, it turned out that she wasn’t the problem.

Jake was.

He blinked at the doctor, hand tightening around his wife’s. “I’m sorry, what? I’m not following.”

The doctor smiled sadly at him before reading the results again. “I’m afraid you have a low sperm count, Mr. Seresin. This could be why you’ve been having problems. Its not dangerously low in the sense that you wouldn’t be able to father a child, but it is low enough to be cause for concern. I understand you were able to conceive once before, and I see no reason that you wouldn’t be able to again. You just need a gentle nudge in the right direction.”

Two weeks later, he was still thinking about that conversation. It permeated every waking moment, including the mind-numbing hours spent in the passenger seat of Detective Bradley Bradshaw's battered Ford Edge, watching a laundromat that they knew was operating an illegal casino out of their upper floors.

What kind of man was he if he couldn’t give his wife a baby?

“Kid, how much money have you already spent on this?” Bradley stared at him from behind his aviator sunglasses. “Maybe it’s just not meant to be.”

“Its not covered by insurance,” Jake continued, picking at the band of his watch. “And we are thousands of dollars in outstanding invoices. I haven’t told Jessie. How can I? She’d make us stop going, and that would destroy her. She really wants this, Bradley.”

Bradley frowned, popping a cashew into his mouth. “How do you feel about moonlighting?”

Jake scoffed. “What, rent-a-cop private security gigs? Come on, man. I’m a goddamn detective. I don’t need to be doing all that.”

“And yet even on the salary of two second-tier detectives, you can’t afford your own medical bills.” Bradley pointed out. “Just come with me tonight, I’ll pick you up. Jessica doesn’t need to know about it.”

Jake had a bad feeling in his gut that this job wouldn’t be entirely legal. At the same time, he didn’t think he was in any position to be turning down paying work. That night, when he came home from work, Jessica was in the kitchen, lights dimmed low and Amy Winehouse playing from the stereo. She was still dressed in her blazer from work, hips swaying as she stirred the pan on the stove.

“God, baby, that smells incredible. What are you making.”

“Pasta with lamb sauce.” Jessie replied, not looking up from the pan. “Hey, I got you something. Can you open the white envelope I left on your plate?”

Jake left his leather jacket and boots in the front hallway, washing his hands in the kitchen sink before he kissed his wife on the side of the head and moved to open the envelope. He had half slid the contents out of the envelope when his heart slipped a beat.

“Jessica, are you really?”

Jessie switched off the stove, turning to gave her husband with a broad smile on her face. “We did it, Jake. I’m pregnant.”

“Oh my God!” Jake broke into a smile, pulling the ultrasound picture the rest of the way out of the envelope. He thought he was going to tear up looking at the little image, his beautiful baby. “Come here.”

“Jake Seresin, are you crying?” She giggled, wrapping her arms around her husbands waist before leaning up to kiss him.

“Of course I’m fucking crying! We’re going to be parents! I’m so happy right now, honey.”

Laughing with glee, Jake leaned down to kiss his wife. Everything had been worth it. Even though he knew he was running out of time to pay off those invoices before the debt collectors showed up.

Even though he knew babies were expensive, and their expenses would soon start piling up.

Nothing else mattered, because he was going to be a father, and there was nothing Jake Seresin wouldn’t do to protect his family.

Bradley picked him up at eight that night. It was dark outside, the road ahead lit only by the detectives headlights. Bradley never said where they were going or what they were doing, and had shut down all of Jake’s attempts at conversation. The neighborhoods they were driving through were getting richer and richer, and that bad feeling Jake’s stomach continued to grow.

They didn’t park near the house, instead leaving the Ford one block away. Confused, Jake followed Bradley, taking long strides to try and keep up. Something felt off. If their work was above board, why did they park so far away, and why were they sneaking around late at night in Beverly Hills?

He watched as Bradley knocked on the door, the two detectives standing side by side on the large doorstep. As soon as the door opened, Bradley lashed out with a yell, punching the homeowner on the other side in the nose.

“Dude, what the fuck!” Jake shouted, following his partner into the entryway. “What is going on here?”

“Shut up.” Bradley snapped back, digging his phone out of his pocket. He crouched next to the bloodied homeowner, showing him something on his phone. Jake crept closer, trying to get a glimpse of the screen. Playing out on Bradley’s phone, the man in front of them was actively engaging in a threesome with two tall blondes. Given the angle of the recording, he didn’t know it was being filmed

Bradley looked towards one of the pictures in the front hall, showing that same man posing with a stunning Indian woman and their two children.

“I bet your wife and kids wouldn’t be too pleased to know that when you go out of town for a business trip, you’re actually going down to Hollywood to pay to get your dick sucked.”

the man was cowering on the floor, blood dripping onto the tile. “What do you want from me?” He shouted at Bradley.

Jake felt sick and started slowly backing away to the door. This was a side of Bradley he’s never seen before. One that sickened him. Yet somehow, he knew it had to have always been there. There was a reason Hollywoods vice cops had the highest corruption rates.

He just never thought he’d be adding to that statistic.

“Give me twenty grand, and the video gets deleted. Half of the money goes to me, the other half to my friend here.” Bradshaw nodded his head in Jake’s direction. “All cash, totally untraceable. We take gold too. Maybe a Rolex or two if you’ve got them lying around.”

“Man, enough.” Jake insisted. “Come on, let’s just go.”

Bradley glared at him. “Do you want to be able to pay your mortgage or not.”

“No. Not like this.”

“Well,” Bradley started, getting to his feet and kicking the unnamed man in the stomach. “You no longer have a choice.”

They left the house shrouded in an awkward silence. Jake’s hands were shaking, hidden in the pockets of his leather jacket. So many questions were running through his mind as they walked back to Bradley’s car.

“Man, I know it looked rough,” Bradley started “but we’re not doing anything wrong. That man is richer than god, and if he’s gonna cheat on his wife, we might as well get something out of it.”

“You literally beat him until he agreed to give you money, and then made me an accomplice!” Jake hissed. “I just found out my wife is pregnant, I can’t be running around doing shit like this!”

“And if you don’t want to watch your kid grow up from behind bars, you’re going to do exactly as I say.” Bradley huffed, shoving Jake backwards. “From now on, I own you.”

Jessie was asleep on the couch when Jake got home, a paperback book still clutched in her hands. He tried to be quiet as he came in through the front hall, but she stirred anyways.

“Jake,” she smiled. “You’re back. How’s Bradley?”

Jake shrugged. He didn’t want to lie to Jessie, but he was so ashamed of what he had seen that he couldn’t tell her the truth either. “He’s alright. Not much new there, I see him every day. How are you doing? You look exhausted.”

Jessie laughed, pulling the blanket she was wrapped in tighter around her shoulders. “I feel exhausted.”

“You’re doing everything for two now, sweetheart. It’s okay to take some time to rest.” Jake soothed, kissing her forehead gently. “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“I love you, Jake Seresin.”

“I love you more, Jessica Seresin.”

Jake Seresin would do whatever it took to keep Jessie safe.

Whatever. It. Took.

Even if it meant being at Bradley Bradshaws beck and call.

[bamber344]

WoW's Valentine's Gift Exchange

Happy valentines day everyone! This year I'm celebrating by participating in @whumperofworlds valentines gift exchange, on the Whump World discord server! (y'all should join, it's great)

I was assigned @lovelizards as my giftee, and for her gift I wrote a lil bad ending AU for her Waiting For You series, which you can read for yourself on her masterlist here. (it's the first story, I recommend it, it's fantastic!)

(gonna just tag all of my usual readers, in case any of y'all are interested! fic is below the cut)

CWs: mind control, broken bones, betrayal, beatings, captivity, general no-hope vibes

(AU in which Iska and Meres do not kill the slender man before escaping, just knocking him out instead. This will prove to be a very big mistake. Also perhaps taking some creative liberties with the magic system but shhhhhh)

Iska and Meres trudged barefoot along the dirt path leading away from the slender man’s manor, feet stinging and legs aching. Despite their fatigue from hours of walking, they didn’t stop for even a moment. Iska wasn’t sure that the man really died when she hit him with that bottle, and she sure wasn’t going to risk taking it slow in case he sent soldiers after them. If only she stayed back for a few minutes to make sure…

But it was too late now. They had to press on.

“Ngh…”

Iska frowned, looking back over her shoulder at her companion. “Meres? Are you alright?”

Meres had stopped moving. He was clutching at his head like it might blow apart if he let go, fingers buried in his pale hair, eyes squeezed shut. “N-no… I won’t…”

Iska ran up to him, putting a hand on his cheek. His skin was clammy, and blood was starting to seep from his nose. “Meres, what’s wrong?!”

He jerked, back arching, before letting out an ear-piercing howl of a scream up towards the sky, so loud it vibrated through Iska’s very bones. Meres fell to his knees, leaning forward and slamming his head into the dirt.

“NO! N-NO! PLEASE!”

Iska’s hands shook. Her stomach dropped. There was only one explanation for this.

The enchantment magic; it still had a hold. The slender man was still alive, and he wanted his property back.

She rushed to Meres’ side, holding him. “Fight it, Meres! You already did it once! You don’t belong to him, or to anyone! Don’t let him take you again!”

Meres twitched, his body convulsing as the fight for control overloaded his nerves. Iska wasn’t sure how long he could keep this up. She couldn’t do this without him. She… She needed him.

All of a sudden, it all stopped. The twitching, the pained grunting, the whines; all replaced by the rise and fall of heavy breaths. It was over.

But… who won?

“I… I’m so sorry, Iska. I’m too weak.”

Iska froze.

No…

Meres lifted his head. Iska looked into his eyes, welling up with tears.

The slender man won.

His hand darted out before she could even consider running, wrapping around her wrist in a vice grip.

“No!” she shouted, thrashing futilely against him, trying to wrench his fingers off. “Meres, stop! Y-you’re hurting me!”

Iska kicked and punched and bit and scratched, fighting like a wild animal, but nothing could get Meres to ease his bruising hold on her. Tears and blood trailed down his face, dripping onto her as he pulled her closer, and for a moment she paused, realising just how much pain he must have been in. Was she really just going to abandon him to it?

Did she have another choice?

All of a sudden, Meres threw her, pulling her suddenly enough that she tripped up and landed face-first in the dirt. Hope lit up in her chest. Had he broken free again?

That hope was quickly shattered as Meres stomped on her knee with all his weight. Iska screamed, pain radiating up her leg as he twisted his foot, grinding her kneecap into the rough ground. She heard more than saw him kneel down, and felt his foot move a little lower down her leg, to her upper calf. Two massive hands closed around her ankle and Meres started wrenching upwards. Iska shrieked.

“MERES! MERES, STOP! STOP, IT HURTS!”

Her shin felt like it was about to split in two. The creaking of her bone reverberated all the way up her leg. She grabbed a fistful of dirt and squeezed her eyes shut, realising there was no escaping the oncoming pain.

Snap!

Pain didn’t even begin to describe it. The agony was overwhelming. Darkness flickered across Iska’s vision as a high-pitched scream rang through her ears. She sobbed, hiding her face against the dirt as Meres let her go; the man in his head surely knowing there was no way she could flee anymore.

“C-come on, Iska… We have to go home now.” 

His voice was shaky and mournful. A mixture of grief and rage swirled in Iska’s belly. Why couldn’t he be strong enough?! Now neither of them had any chance of escape. She was going to spend the rest of her life in the slender man’s basement, slowly losing herself until she became nothing more than another puppet for him to order around. There was no fight left in her. She was done.

Meres scooped her up off the ground and bundled her against his chest. She cried out as her injured leg was aggravated and put up a token struggle, but there was no point.

It was over.

—

Iska groaned, spitting loose teeth and blood out of her mouth and onto the cold floor of the slender man’s dungeon. Her arms were chained to a post behind her; the metal of the shackles biting into her wrists. Meres was there. Somewhere. Iska wasn’t too compelled to search for him, knowing that opening her eyes meant accepting the reality that she was right back where she started. He was probably listlessly staring at the floor, too cowardly to look at her and witness the consequences of his actions made manifest.

At least the beating she was receiving distracted from the pain of her broken leg. If one could call that a consolation.

“Oh, those were your teeth, weren’t they?” the slender man’s slimy voice echoed through the space and into her head.

A cold hand closed around her chin and tugged her head up. Iska cracked her bruise-swollen eyelids open to look the man in the eye. His forehead was covered in stitches from the bottle she’d smashed across his face, and there was a distinct cloudy quality to his eyes – no doubt from a concussion. Clearly, it hadn’t hampered him enough to dull the force of his strikes.

His thumb traced along her jawline, a soft and gentle juxtaposition to the pain he’d been inflicting upon her. “Poor, poor Iska. Your beautiful smile is all broken now.” He hummed, squeezing her cheeks and putting pressure on her ruined gums. She cried out, tears burning down her face. “It’s no less than you deserve, for what you did to me, but it’s far from the last punishment you’ll receive. You will understand that there is no escape from your life’s purpose. You will understand that you are worth nothing, and your only solace will be knowing that your place is to be owned by me. Get used to it.”

“F-fuck you!” she rasped.

He let go of her face and stepped back, only to send a lashing kick straight at her nose. Her head snapped backwards as pain blossomed through her sinuses, filling her eyes with blinding tears. All she could do was sink to the ground and do her best to remember to breathe through her mouth as blood spilled from her nostrils.

“We’ll see how that attitude holds after a week in the experimentation room. Meres, come. It’s your turn.”

With that, he turned and strolled out of the room, Meres following at his heel like the dog he was.

It was all his fault. It was his weakness that trapped them here again. Iska would have to go back to that horrible room again, and it was all because of him.

No…

It was her own damn fault. Her impatience. Her need to flee. If only she’d made sure the man was dead.

As the sound of Meres’ screams began to echo throughout the dungeon, Iska closed her eyes and cried.

—

Iska was sleeping. That, or she’d succumbed to her injuries on the cold, hard floor. Meres couldn’t decide which one was worse. At least if she passed, she wouldn’t have to still be here, suffering because of him.

He winced at a particularly scathing throb of one of the lacerations on his back; the slender man’s brutal handiwork. Just another reminder of his own weakness, and what he’d subjected both himself and Iska to for the foreseeable future. Iska would be going into the experimentation room again tomorrow. Would there be another chance now? Would he be able to break free again, before it was too late and Iska lost herself too? It was hard to know.

He slowly stumbled over to her limp form, kneeling down and brushing some hair out of her bruised face.

“I… I- I’m so, so sorry, Iska. I failed you.”

Her eyes cracked open, staring up at him glassily. She reached out, weakly wrapping her delicate fingers around his thumb. 

“M- Meres… p-please, stay.”

Her eyes rolled back, and she passed out again.

Meres grit his teeth, holding back tears. “Don’t worry, Iska. I won’t leave you.”

He settled down on the ground next to her, still keeping hold of her hand.

“No matter what, I’ll stay with you.”

Taglist: @steelandblood @sapphicwhump @urnumber1star @alsolucakairomi @thataquaticwhumper

@iamheretohurt @anoyedartist @dontyoubleedoutonme @seastarblue @lettherebepain

@bacillusinfection

Hope y'all enjoyed!

[nataliescatorccioapologist]

A Travis Martinez Deep Dive/Character Analysis

Let’s talk about one of the most (if not the most) controversial characters in Yellowjackets! I definitely feel like many of Travis’ scenes and actions are misunderstood, so let’s dive in to his character and understand why he does what he does.

General Information

Travis Martinez is portrayed by Kevin Alves. He is described as being 16 years-old in the first drafts of the scripts, although it is unclear if he is still 16 in the final product or if he was aged up to 17 like the rest of the main cast in the teen timeline. His introduction in the script describes him as “lanky, sullen, teetering on the awkward, hormonal edge of impending hotness, a sensitive kid doing his absolute damndest to pretend he doesn’t care about anything.”

Travis attends Wiskayok High School in the (fictional) town of Wiskayok, New Jersey. His family consists of his father, Bill Martinez (who is the head coach of the Yellowjackets girls soccer team at WHS), his mother, and his little brother, Javi.

Relationship With His Family

We get a very brief glimpse into Travis’ home life before the crash in the Pilot episode, but it does give us a few hints of the conflicts present in his family. We see that Travis’ parents seem to have a distant relationship, with Travis’ father attempting to give his mother a kiss goodbye and her initially being resistant to it, but giving in only when she sees Travis watching. Travis rolls his eyes at this interaction, telling us it’s a common occurrence. Maybe it’s just me, but I’m definitely getting the sense that Coach Martinez has had some extramarital affairs and that Travis’ parents are only still married for the sake of keeping the family together.

Travis confesses to Nat that Coach Martinez was “a shit dad” and that he “didn’t even like” Travis. I think, at least in Travis’ mind, he has never been good enough to measure up to his father’s expectations. We get to see a brief sample of what Coach Martinez's parenting style may have been like in his scene with Jackie, in which his version of a "pep talk" is telling Jackie all of the ways in which the other girls on the team are better than her. I have a feeling Travis' dad often took the same approach with Travis; a gruff, "tough-love" demeanor that only resulted in a deep sense of inadequacy.

This dynamic has affected Travis' relationship with Javi, as well. My interpretation of their relationship is that, while Travis does deeply love and care for Javi, he also harbors some resentment towards him for receiving more softness and support from their father. This resentment only grows when the plane crashes and Travis is left completely responsible for Javi. He's feeling the pressure of having to be an example of masculinity for Javi and his new role as a father figure for Javi, all while dealing with the grief of his father's death. He's overwhelmed and afraid, and therefore he takes this out on Javi, which we can see particularly in the scene where he makes Javi spit out the gum their father gave him.

Travis is likely replicating the harsh parenting style of their father with Javi; it's all he knows. But, underneath, Travis loves Javi; enough to put himself through the trauma of digging up his father's corpse to get a ring for him and to trek through miles of snow in sub zero temperatures for months looking for him after he runs away.

This is why it is so, so heartbreaking when Travis loses Javi just as he's learning to show how much he loves him. My heart breaks at the thought that Travis will have to come back home and tell his mother that his father and little brother are dead.

Toxic Masculinity

It’s no secret that Travis is deeply, deeply insecure. And, as is the case with many young men, this insecurity manifests itself through sexism, unhealthy stoicism, hostility, and anger. It is important to remember that Travis is a teenager in the 90s, a time in which the sexualization of women in media was rampant. The Third Wave of feminism was underway, and with it came an increase of misogyny and backlash from men. Sexist jokes and comments were the norm, and Travis was likely surrounded by them in high school. As a result, we hear him call the girls "idiots," we hear him compare them to girls in porn magazines, we hear him tell Nat she should stick to "folding laundry" and "sucking ___" (we all know how that sentence was going to end). There's no true excuse for it, it's abhorrent behavior and it's unacceptable no matter what time period this is.

However, if we look into Travis' past, we can definitely find an explanation. Much of Travis' behavior can be drawn back to his insecurity and feeling that he is not good enough. We know he was bullied throughout high school as a result of Bobby Farleigh's "Flex" comment and we know that he feels like his father never really liked him; that he never felt good enough for him. Another aspect of Travis' insecurity can also be linked back to the idea of masculinity that has been fed to him by society: the strong, macho, stoic ideal. And it's clear (especially in Season 2) that Travis just does not fit this ideal. He's soft and sensitive, and because this goes directly against what he thinks he should be, he feels shame and embarrassment in himself.

And what do men do when they feel shame, insecurity, and/or sadness? They lash out. Men aren't allowed to show vulnerability, so they instead replace it with a more acceptable emotion: anger. And we definitely see this in the way that Travis lashes out at the people around him. And to make matters worse, Travis is one of the only men out there in the wilderness, making him feel even more pressure to be the strong masculine figure society expects him to be.

Reaction to Trauma

The pressure Travis feels to be "manly" bleeds into his response to trauma, as well. Travis has just watched his father die in a brutal and gruesome manner right before his eyes, and now he's out in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of teenage girls and a little brother to take care of. Most people would break down and cry.

Travis, on the other hand, is strangely apathetic. His only expression of emotion is anger. He snaps at Nat when she suggests that he help his brother, he yells at Javi and forces him to spit out the gum that is his only connection left to his father, he steals food from the others and blatantly insults them, and he essentially tells Javi to "get over it." Travis' coping mechanisms are clear: he distracts his grief with anger and he pushes away anyone that could possibly offer him support.

We see this again with another very significant trauma Travis endures: his sexual assault the night of Doomcoming. Travis is sexually assaulted by an entire group of girls, he clearly begs for them to stop (and they don't), and then he runs for his life and is almost killed. No one ever acknowledges this trauma and the next morning Travis is back to his usual ways, snapping at Natalie when she tries to emotionally support him and attempting to hurt her feelings to get her to stay away from him.

But it's clear, in both of these instances, that, underneath, Travis does care, and he is hurting. Despite him yelling at Javi, he wants to get his father's ring to make it up to him and support him. And when Nat doesn't budge and insists on helping him, Travis breaks down sobbing and admits that he "didn't want to" and that he is in love with her. (And in the script he even says that he wishes that Shauna had killed him that night, that's how strong his pain and shame are after Doomcoming!) Travis' hostile and abrasive behaviors are really a front he puts on to avoid being vulnerable, letting people in, and admitting to himself that he's struggling.

Relationship with Nat

Given Travis' tendency to push people away and hide his vulnerability, it’s not surprising that he forms a romantic connection with someone who mirrors his response to trauma: Natalie.

Their relationship starts off on shaky ground, marked by Travis' initial misogynistic remarks and even an incident where he points a loaded gun at Natalie. Despite this, Natalie is the only person who seems able to see through Travis' anger. Her own experiences with trauma—particularly the loss of her father—give her a deep understanding of what Travis is going through. Like him, she has developed a habit of distancing herself from others, driven by the pain of watching her father die and the lingering guilt of feeling responsible for his death.

This shared trauma—witnessing their fathers’ deaths and carrying the weight of guilt—creates the foundation of their connection. One pivotal moment that cements this bond is the scene where Natalie makes her first kill. Kevin Alves has explained that when Natalie and Travis kneel beside the dying deer and exchange a knowing look, it symbolizes the shared grief they both carry. In this moment, they are not just mourning the animal but, more profoundly, mourning their fathers together.

This scene serves as the emotional cornerstone of their relationship, which stretches over the next 25 years. Both Natalie and Travis are driven by guilt, shame, and self-loathing, and they both struggle with showing vulnerability. They have a pattern of pushing people away before anyone can get too close—a tragic cycle that defines their bond. They are trauma bonded and similar in all of the worst ways, which is what makes them so codependent and enmeshed, as they believe that no one else will ever understand them the way they understand each other.

Of course, Travis’ insecurity finds its way into his relationship with Nat, too. When Nat and Travis discuss having sex for the first time, Travis infamously asks Nat how many guys she has slept with. Nat immediately bristles, thinking that Travis is implying that she’s a “slut”, but, as the scene unfolds, we realize that Travis is actually just insecure about his own virginity in comparison with Nat’s sexual experience. He’s worried that, because of Jackie’s previous comments about Nat, sex with him won’t mean anything to Nat, whereas it would mean a lot to Travis. We can see how much relief he feels when Nat assures him that it does mean something to her, and “especially with him"; when she affirms he is good enough.

Travis’ tendency to get in his own head unfortunately makes itself known again when they actually attempt to sleep together; when Travis can’t get it up and runs out of the room. I think the script for this scene reveals a lot about what is actually going on in Travis’ head:

Travis’ feelings of inadequacy are spiraling here. He’s in awe of Nat and doesn’t feel good enough, and the pressure he’s putting on himself as a result is too much for him (and other parts of him…) to handle. As time passes in the wilderness and Travis lets go of some of his insecurity, we can see he becomes more communicative and releases some of his ego and insecurity as he discovers his spirituality (which we'll get into more in the next section).

Travis's love for Natalie is undeniable, but their relationship is inevitably toxic due to their shared trauma and self-destructive behaviors. After the crash, both turned to drug addiction as a way to numb their pain. Though they’ve tried to help each other stay clean over the years, their connection often pulls them back into destructive patterns. Every time Travis seems to be on the path to recovery, Natalie reappears, and she drags him back down with her again.

Javi’s death will create a huge, irreparable rift between them. It’s likely that Travis harbors deep resentment toward Natalie, not only for surviving when Javi didn’t but also for being a constant reminder of his lost brother. Yet, paradoxically, she is all he has left, and the thought of losing her, too, is unbearable. Despite their genuine love and care for each other, their relationship is fundamentally harmful.

Spirituality, Relationship with “The Wilderness,” and Development of a More Feminine Sense of Self

Season 2 marks a major shift in Travis’ character, and much of this is due to his newfound connection to Lottie. Travis’ desperation to find Javi makes him crave a sense of hope, and therefore makes him open to the idea of The Wilderness. Travis begins attending Lottie’s rituals, and expresses gratefulness towards her for the blood tea and reassurance that Javi is alive. As Travis becomes increasingly attached to Lottie and The Wilderness, we also see him become kinder, softer, and more vulnerable. Travis’ connection to The Wilderness allows him to release the societal norms and expectations that previously guided his toxic behaviors. He can let go of society’s idea of manhood and become a more authentic version of himself. We see that Travis has started to let himself show weakness, express emotion, and is much more open-minded and willing to consider other perspectives.

Lottie definitely becomes an important person to Travis in Season 2. I want to make something clear right now because I feel like it it very often misinterpreted. The writers have stated that Travis’ connection with Lottie is not meant to be interpreted as sexual in nature. Rather, Travis’ scenes with Lottie are meant to represent his spiritual connection with her and his need for guidance. The infamous sex scene between Natalie and Travis in which Travis has visions of Lottie present in the room is not Travis wishing Lottie was in Nat’s place, rather it is meant to represent the internal battle Travis is experiencing between his romantic love for Nat and his need for hope and spiritual belief. Lottie is being shown as a spiritual, religious figure in this scene. She’s not depicted in a sexual manner in Travis’ visions, but rather in a nurturing, holy light.

Nat and Lottie are directly opposed in this Season, with Nat representing pragmatism and Lottie representing faith. Travis is caught in the middle with his romantic connection to Nat and his faith in Lottie. While Nat tells him his brother is dead, Lottie tells him she knows he’s alive. Travis loves Nat, but it’s clear their differences in faith are creating a rift between them, and this rift is symbolized visually in their sex scene.

While Travis’ turn towards faith and spirituality does bring out a better, more likable side of him, it does, unfortunately, directly lead to his death in the adult timeline. While we likely won't get to see any more of Travis' story in the adult timeline, I am looking forward to seeing how he continues to develop in the wilderness and how his newfound spirituality and increasing disconnection with society will change him as a person.

Overall, while Travis can certainly be a deeply dislikable character at times, his development over the past two seasons has been fascinating to watch and he definitely has some hidden complexities that are starting to reveal themselves to the audience. Here's to Travis continuing to connect to his feminine side in Season 3!

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[jerswayman]

LOVE THY GOALIE. GIVE THY GOOD BOY HEAD PATS.

[kj-beastboy]

Pregnancy as a kink makes me uncomfortable so man am I glad your pregg Flug stuff is explicitly not kink oriented!

yeah I... don't wanna judge anyone... but it's more than that, it's downright terrifying to me. Blame my hormones bc I'm expecting irl but wow... I'm very sensitive and it feels dehumanizing. but ig that is kinda the point of the kink(?)

it's so common in fandoms!

I'm completely vanilla anyway tho, so not surprising.

I've tried to pretend for a super long time that I'm into kink, but most of them are off putting and I consider them intrusive thoughts, not fantasies. I'm kinda fluctuating between sex-repulsed and neutral (aroace) even fictional... ig kink just isn't for me. I tried so hard to get over it. I know some people in my asks/requests are gonna be disappointed but I'm sorry💔

I'm slightly ashamed of how boring I am and I have serious trouble connecting to anyone in fandoms due to this actually🤕 feel like the most NT autistic person ever.

anyway here's a doodle!