#still it feels like I’m attention seeking when like… why is seeking attention bad

[explode-this]

Mood: do I really want to die or do I just want to sing along with this song until I’ve ejected the ideation from my system?

[not-neverland06]

Hey! Your writing is amazing! I’ve been checking daily for new fics lmao

I was wondering if your requests were open would you be able to write some angst with a happy ending w/ Peanut?

Perhaps a Shy!Reader who has flirty banter with Logan. They’re on a mission and Logan has to make a quick decision on who to save — Reader or Jean and he saves Jean without thinking. Reader ends up surviving with a few injuries but her and Logan’s relationship starts to deteriorate. Logan’s not good with verbal apologies so he does acts of service — bringing reader food/drinks etc. reader is stubborn and Logan starts to get frustrated. He eventually proves himself to reader.

I’m sorry if this is confusing!! I’m not creative enough to write it myself and you’re really really skilled. Love your work x

a/n: I read this request and then read them together and my brain imploded because I loved it so much, no smut in this one Summary: Logan saves Jean on a mission and it's the wake-up call you desperately needed to understand that you will never be her. You can't stand to look at him anymore and he doesn't understand why you've stopped talking to him.

“What’re you thinking of doing after this?”

You shrug, leaning back on the uncomfortable bench seats and looking over at Logan. “Not sure, got any plans?”

Logan smirks and you immediately know whatever he’s about to say is going to send you spiraling. “Yeah, whatever you’re doing, sweetheart.”

Oh. My. God!

You know you’ve got it bad when something as simple as that has you swooning. It’s so easy to fall into this routine with him, to pretend you’re more suave than you actually are. Despite your usual tendency to fade into the background, you find it nearly impossible to do with him. 

Where someone else might let you stay quiet and go ignored, he seeks you out. He makes you feel seen and heard. Some days you don’t know if you appreciate it or despise it. You laugh a little, trying to hide just how affected by him you are. “Sounds good, Lo.”

He smiles and leans back on the seat, his arm coming around the back to rest lightly over your shoulders. You can tell from the look on Storm’s face that she’s trying not to laugh at you. You can’t blame her, you’re sure your eyes have tripled in size and you look absolutely stunned. 

Flirting isn’t out of the usual for you and him. Lately, though, he’s upped the game. Touching you more than usual, spending more one-on-one time together. You can feel it all building up to something. You’re shy, not stupid, you know when a guy’s going to ask you out. 

But it feels like he’s dragging it out longer than necessary like he’s enjoying teasing you a little too much.  “Alright,” Scott stands up and moves towards the back of the jet. “We’re almost there, get ready.”

You, very reluctantly, pull away from Logan and get to your feet. He walks past you, briefly squeezing your hand before joining Scott by the ramp. You grin, flexing your hand by your side and trying to memorize the feeling. 

The ramp lowers to the ground and Scott and Logan lead the way out. You’re expecting this to be simple. Stake out the area, find some information about the people running the warehouse, and figure out what exactly it is that they’ve been doing. 

The air is bursting with moisture. It’s suffocating, how humid it is, how it makes the material of your suit cling to your skin. You know the rest of the team can feel it. That it’s irritating them just as much. 

None of you want to be out here in the peak of summer, trying to be stealthy in these ridiculous costumes. Your thighs squeak every time they rub together. It’s beyond embarrassing. You know that that’s what has you all distracted. 

You’re struggling through ankle-deep mud and sweating buckets. So none of you are paying any particular attention to the area around you. Technically, you shouldn’t have to, you’re still about a mile out from where you need to be. 

You duck, hands coming up to cover your ears as Charles’ voice screams through your mind. It’s a trap!

Even with the warning, there’s no time to prepare. The ground around you explodes, grass and dirt flying through the air. Logan grabs your arm, he shoves himself in front of you and takes the brunt of the bullets. Splatters of blood hits your cheeks and he runs you both behind a tree for cover. 

The other three have all found their own cover and they’re struggling to figure out where the shots are coming from. You spot something in the underbrush and scream, “Behind you!”

It’s more of a warning to duck than it is to move. You throw your hands up, shoving the man away from them and sending him flying into the trunk of a tree. You swear you can hear the snap of his spine as it hits the bark. 

You look to Jean and nod towards the small clearing of trees. “Don’t,” Logan warns. But you’re already slipping out of his grip and solidifying the air in front of you. It provides enough of a cover, absorbing the bullets, and giving you all time to figure out a plan of attack. 

Jean moves beside you, eyes narrowing on the perimeter of your cover. “There are too many of them, more than I can count.” 

“How did they know we were coming?” Scott snaps, keeping an eye on the area behind you. 

Your arms struggle under the weight of your power. The more bullets they shoot into your cover, the harder it is to keep up. You’re forced to absorb their energy, push it out tenfold to try and keep the blockage solidified. 

“Guys,” you snap, “we need a plan. I can’t hold it much longer.” You grit your teeth, taking a step forward to try and push against the strain. It does nothing but make your bones ache. Logan shoots you a concerned glance, coming up behind you like he wants to take the weight off your shoulders. But there’s nothing he can do. 

There’s movement behind you, a boot snapping a twig in two. You can’t risk looking back but you can hear the worry in Jean’s voice. “Ten of them-”

You can tell by the sounds of their movement that the others don’t give her much of a chance to finish. Ororo, Scott, and Logan all shoot forward to deal with the threat. Ten isn’t much to worry about. But that doesn’t change the fact that the men in front of you haven’t let up and you’re about to weep from the weight of keeping the wall up. 

Jean stays beside you, brows furrowed in concern. She places her hand on your shoulder and closes her eyes. A second later you feel something like a cool blanket laid over you. The tension in your arms and core eases just enough for you to stop clenching your jaw so hard. Some of the strain eases away and you know she’s sharing it with you. 

But just as quickly as the relief was given, it’s yanked away. Jean jumps back with a gasp, “Flux, we need to move!”

“I can’t,” you shout, fighting to be heard over the sound of bloodshed and gunshots going off in front of and behind you. The others are steadily moving through the people surrounding you, but their numbers are still overwhelming. “It’ll all come crashing down,” you tell her. 

She glances towards the bullets, finally spotting the way they’re slowly, but steadily, moving through the thickened air. The second you let go you’ll be riddled with holes. “Shit,” she hisses. “Look, we can’t stay here much longer-”

She’s cut off by a loud bang. You’re so disoriented by the noise your hands drop to your sides. At the same moment, you hear wood splintering and cracking beside you. What has to be the largest tree in the forest creaks before it begins its descent down towards you both. 

You don’t what happened, or what they used, but it doesn’t matter. The wall in front of you is fading. You have seconds to get out of the way of the bullets and the tree, you’re not sure either of you is going to make it. 

“Jean!” There’s a flash of brown hair and Jean’s being tackled to the ground, safely out of the way of the tree and bullets. You feel something stinging against your shoulder and know the first bullet’s made its way through. 

You also see the tree is almost over top of you. You’ve always been a fight response in flight or fight scenarios. But when there’s nothing to fight, when you have nothing to go up against, you freeze. It’s horrible, you know it, but there’s nothing you can do about it. 

Even as you’re desperately screaming at yourself to just fucking move, all you can do is watch as the tree topples down on top of you. “Flux, duck!” The words trigger something in your brain just soon enough to drop to the ground. 

Scott releases a red beam, blasting through the tree and knocking it off course. You don’t even register the smell of burning flesh as you lay in the mud. Your blood is rushing so fast in your veins, there’s so much adrenaline pumping through you, you can’t focus on anything except the sound of your heartbeat. 

You let out a breath of relief, slowly lifting yourself up to your knees. You don’t hear any more fighting and you figure whoever they hadn’t taken down before, the beam took care of the rest. 

You look down, checking yourself for any bullet holes or serious damage but you can’t find anything. Something warm trickles down your shoulder, it drips across your arm and down your hand. 

You look at the blood curiously, it seems to steady a flow from the simple bullet graze you’d had earlier. “Oh my god,” Jean whispers your name and you turn around with a concerned look. 

You want to ask her what’s wrong but your eyes are trained on the way Logan’s arms are bracketing her. He’s practically on top of her, only now getting up to check on you. You get it, it was a stressful situation, he acted fast. 

But that doesn’t make it any easier to swallow the lump in your throat. It doesn’t ease the burn of betrayal. He saved her, not you. He chose her even though she doesn’t want him. The anger you’re feeling only makes it harder to be aware of your surroundings. 

It’s not until Scott kneels behind you a presses a gentle hand against your back that you lurch forward with a loud cry. The pain slams down on you all at once. The wind blowing gently against your back feels like someone’s dug razor blades in your skin and ripped. 

Feet rush towards you, someone kneeling beside you and grabbing your shoulders. Logan forces you up and makes you look at him before his gaze turns to your back. “What the fuck did you do?” He practically growls, lunging towards Scott. 

He grabs him by the collar and shoves him into the dirt. Ororo and Jean leap forward, trying unsuccessfully to rip him off. You try and keep your eyes open, try and stay focused. The pain is too much, you don’t want to be awake for this anymore. Every nerve on your back feels like it’s being forcefully exposed and plucked at. 

Your brain forces a shutdown and you slump into the mud, the world going black. 

When you wake up, you’re on your stomach. You’re a little dazed, not fully remembering how you got here. You try and sit up but there’s a steady grip around your wrists stopping you. “Don’t move,” Jean warns from somewhere behind you. 

You try and look for her but you can’t move much. Your head feels like it weighs a hundred pounds, stuck to the pillow beneath you. “What happened? Why can’t I move?”

Her shoes appear in front of you and then she’s kneeling down, a slightly worried look on her face. “We needed to make sure you didn’t roll over in your sleep.” Her brows crinkle and she frowns, “You don’t remember?” You shake your head minutely. She sighs, lifting her hand to your face and pressing her chilled fingers to your temple. 

The images rush towards you. You see it all from her eyes. The way Logan had grabbed her and thrown her to the ground, checking over her and not once looking at you. How Scott had tried to stop the tree from breaking your spine. His beam had just barely grazed your back as you had ducked. But it was enough for there to be serious damage. 

Through her view, you can see the way your skin had bubbled up and blistered. How horribly damaged it was. You have limited healing abilities, but it was enough to stop the nerves from being permanently damaged. 

She lets you go and you groan, the pain slowly registering in your brain. It’s dulled and you don’t know if they’ve given you drugs or if your abilities are still working to help you. “How’s Scott?” 

She chuckles and shakes her head while she undoes the restraints around your wrist. “He feels awful. He keeps coming by to check on you.”

The thought of him sitting beside you while you were strapped down to the bed makes you feel a little bad. It wasn’t his fault, he’d helped you. It was more than Logan had done for you. 

You frown, hating yourself for being bitter. If he hadn’t helped, Jean might not be here next to you. He had saved your friend. The thought didn’t bring much comfort, though. “I’m not mad at him.”

Jean eases you onto your knees and slowly helps you sit up. It causes minimal pain, but it’s still uncomfortable enough to grit your teeth and dig your nails into your palms. “I know, but he’ll probably be coming down here a lot to check on you.”

You almost ask her if anyone else has visited. If Logan had, but you don’t think her answer would make you feel any better. “He did,” she tells you and you click your tongue in irritation. 

“Out of my head,” you warn. She releases you with a small grin. “I don’t care,” you tell her, trying to appear nonchalant. 

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing on you. “Yes, you do. And I don’t need telepathy to know.” She walks towards your IV bag, fiddling around with something on the line. “He was here whenever he could be, practically lived beside you.”

“Don’t care,” you tell her again, but there’s less conviction this time. 

Jean frowns and you hate how guilty she looks. It’s not her fault he’s desperately in love with her and not you. You can’t force someone to love you or choose you. And you don’t want to. You want someone to love you for who you are, not because they couldn’t have their first choice. 

“Don’t,” you say lowly. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t get a chance to say anything before the door bursts open, both Logan and Scott sliding into your room. Scott lets out a relieved breath when he sees you. He breathes out your name and approaches with a guilty smile, “You’re awake.”

“Charles told us,” Logan informs. You offer him a brief glance before diverting your attention to Scott. 

Petty, you’re aware. But you don’t want to see Logan right now. You’d put so much effort and time into your friendship with him. It doesn’t even matter if he doesn’t feel the same way about you. You two are best friends, and he didn’t even try to help you when you needed him the most. 

So, you smile at Scott. You forgive him and you tell him you're fine. You chat with him and Jean while Logan just stares at you from the other side of your bed. You can’t make yourself face him. You don’t want to look at him, it makes you sick to your stomach.

Eventually, Scott’s guilt is slightly assuaged and he and Jean leave for the night. Logan is a heavy presence beside you, one you no longer can ignore. You shift around, pretending to fluff your pillows until he grabs your hand. 

“What’re you doing?”

You look at his hand and then at him. Whatever look is on your face is enough for him to release you and back off. “Getting comfortable,” you spit out, more venom in your voice than necessary. Something clicks for him, you can see it as it happens. 

He backs up and narrows his eyes down at you. “Right.” He frowns and sucks on his teeth, nodding his head silently. “I’ll come back when you’re feeling a little better.” You don’t miss the hidden dig underneath it all, the way he’s calling out you’re unusual behavior. 

“I think that’d be best.”

He scoffs and shakes his head, slamming the door behind him as he leaves. You jump at the noise and it makes you hiss as a twinge of pain shoots down your spine. You feel slightly guilty about the whole interaction. Then, you remember the way he’d been cradling Jean and you feel slightly vindicated. 

You’re sure he doesn’t even give a shit. He’s probably pouting in his room, wishing Jean was in bed beside him. 

What the fuck?

It’s all that’s been playing through Logan’s head since he returned from your room in the medbay. He’s waited days for you to wake up, so he can finally take a breath and let go of the anxiety that’s been plaguing him. 

He’d thought that he’d lost you in that forest. When he’d gone for Jean, he’d assumed you’d just be able to use your powers to knock the tree out of your path. Or make it melt around you. 

Honestly, he can’t put a finger on what exactly he was thinking. But he knew that you could protect yourself and that would be your priority. So he’d moved without really thinking and grabbed the person who would be collateral damage if your powers went haywire. 

And then you hadn’t saved yourself and all he could smell was your burning flesh. The smell has been stuck in his nose since you were brought back to the mansion. He can’t escape it. Everywhere he goes, he sees you burning and hears your screams. 

He’d thought that you were dead and there was a moment where he genuinely was so lost he could do nothing but watch as the others swarmed you. He couldn’t move, couldn’t help you. He could only stare at your still body and pray to anybody who could hear him that you weren’t dead. 

He didn’t know what he would do if he lost you before he ever got a chance to love you. 

He’d, irritatingly, imagined all the different ways he would finally tell you how he felt when you woke up. He’d prepared himself for every possible reaction, except this one. He hadn’t expected you to reject him before he ever got the chance to confess. 

Anger stews within him as he paces through his room. He knows that it’s unfair to be upset with you. You’d gone through something horrific and there had been doubts about your recovery. Of course, you’d act off. 

Except, you only seemed to be directing that at him. Had you been just as dismissive to Scott, the person who actually hurt you, he would have looked past it. He’s tempted to go back down and see you again, maybe try and make you see some sense. 

Instead, he decides to give you both some time to calm down. He doesn’t want to do anything he might regret while he’s pissed off. He’ll see you tomorrow and, hopefully, you’ll be back to normal. 

You’d thought Logan might have gotten the hint with how you behaved earlier. That was not the case. He’s back today and you can smell the breakfast food he’s brought you. The smell is wafting deliciously from an inconspicuous brown bag. 

But you know it’s from the restaurant that’s twenty minutes out of his way. You’re not petty enough that you can’t appreciate the forty-minute round trip he’d taken for you, but you still aren’t excited to see him. 

“Hey, sweetheart,” he smiles at you despite your clearly hostile energy. He tugs the chair towards your bed, ripping open the bag and pulling out enough food for the both of you. 

You think it should be considered a form of manipulation to call you that while you’re pissed at him. He has such a clear effect on you. You know he’s aware of it. He knows that when he calls you something sweet like that it makes your heart race and stomach flip. 

You turn your gaze towards your blanket. You pretend the thread pattern is the most interesting thing in the world so you don’t have to look at him. You’re sick of giving your all to men who couldn’t care less about you. 

You’re tired of being the second, third, fourth choice. You want someone to choose you first for once. And you genuinely thought Logan would be the man to do that. But he’d chosen Jean. You should have known. 

“Alright,” he huffs, crossing his arms and glaring at you. You’re pissed off that he’s acting like he’s the one who was hurt. “What the hell is your problem? You’ve never been this mad at me before.”

It’s his tone of voice that really grates on you. He genuinely does not understand what he’s done wrong. He doesn’t even comprehend the possibility that you might be mad he left you to die. Have you really become such a doormat?

Yes, you’re shy and generally reserved with the people you meet. But he is so different. You two met and it was an instant connection that you thought was reciprocated. You hadn't realized that you'd become so complacent in the relationship he thought he could get away with something like this with no repercussions. 

“You left me to die,” you snap at him, voice taking a pitch it never has before. You’ve never truly gotten angry at him. Pissed off sometimes when he teased you a little too much. But you’d never plainly shown anger at him. “You fucking left me behind and expect me to, what,” you scoff and shove the food back towards him. 

“You think some shitty breakfast is going to fix this?” His face contorts. It screws up into something like hurt and you worry you might have been too harsh. He doesn’t know how you feel about him. He doesn’t know that this would hurt you so bad. 

But, it doesn’t matter. You’re still his friend. You should have at least warranted a little concern. 

Just as quickly as it appeared, the hurt is washed away by his own anger. “I thought you could take care of yourself. Isn’t that what you’re always bitching at us about?”

If you weren’t so upset you might find it funny how quickly the two of you turned on each other. Clearly, there was something repressed between the two of you. Some brewing resentment that neither of you had ever acknowledged. The words are coming quickly now, without thought.

“Fuck you, Logan,” you snap back at him. “You didn’t give a shit whether I lived or died. You only cared about your precious Jean.” You spit out her name with so much venom it stings as it leaves your tongue. 

He laughs, getting out of his chair. He shakes his head and glares at you. His anger is always a physical thing. You know he’s pacing so he doesn’t do something worse, like destroy the entirety of the room. 

“That’s what this is, you’re jealous? Don’t blame your fucking incompetence on me.” You hate the way he’s speaking to you. Like you’re a little girl who's incapable of understanding even the most basic of concepts. He has such a patronizing look on his face, you want nothing more than to wipe it off. 

The tables beside you tremble, the vases of flowers rattling against the wood. “I’m your friend, Logan. You could at least pretend like you cared about me.”

He leans against the end of the bed, tilting himself forward until he’s aggressively imposing your space. You shrink back against the pillows, narrowing your eyes in disdain. “Don’t fucking pull that shit with me. I knew that your priority would be to save yourself and I acted accordingly. This wasn’t some goddamn ploy to get into Jean’s pants. Grow the fuck up, Flux!”

You flinch back at the volume of his voice. Unwillingly, tears pool in the corners of your eyes. It’s an involuntary response. Sometimes you just get so enraged that you have no other way to get rid of it than to cry. It’s infuriating to see the moment someone stops taking you seriously and starts to think you’re nothing more than a crybaby. 

Logan’s face pales and he winces, backing away from you. “I didn’t-”

“Enough,” you stop him, voice thick with unshed tears. He never calls you by your X-men name, it’s an unspoken agreement between the two of you. That’s a formality reserved for the other members. To each other, you’re nothing more than two people who care deeply for one another. 

Or, you had been. Before this one moment had blown your life and your back up. 

“I appreciate how much faith you have in my abilities, but the fact that your first instinct wasn’t even to protect me says a lot.” You take in a deep breath and shake your head. “Thanks for the breakfast, but can you please just leave?”

He looks like he doesn’t want to. You know he doesn’t want to leave. You two never fight like this. Even if there wasn’t a lot said, it’s still not normal for you. Maybe that should have been your first hint that things weren’t what you thought. 

It’s healthy to fight, to a certain extent. Sometimes it's needed. You two never have before and you know it’s just been brewing for a while, waiting to blow up. “I-”

“Get out,” you shout, and the tables beside you finally crumble under the weight of your emotions. They drip to the ground in an inorganic form of liquid wood. “Shit,” you hiss, glancing over at them. You wave your hand and they return to their normal state, but it doesn’t matter. You shouldn’t have lost control at all. 

The door slams and you look up to find the room empty. You sink back against your bed and run your hands over your face. You ignore the way the skin of your back screams in protest. 

You embrace the pain, the fiery shocks running up your nerves as the bandages chafe against the wounds. You focus on that instead of how things have ended with Logan. You always had such high hopes that he might be the one you finally man up and confess to. 

You should have known you were wrong. You should have known that it would never have ended with him picking you over her. 

You’re permitted to leave the medbay the next day. You don’t see or hear from Logan for the following week. You can’t confirm if he’s purposefully avoiding you or not but you have to believe he is. You both live in the same hall. You don’t know how it’s possible to have gone this long without even catching a slight glimpse of him. 

You force yourself to suffocate the part of you that misses him. You picture the side of yourself that longs for his presence and imagine shoving a pillow over her face. You don’t want to ache and cry over someone who doesn’t give two shits about you. 

You keep reminding yourself over and over again that when things got rough he showed you his true colors. But it’s more difficult than you imagined to just completely disregard so much history with him. 

Besides, you hadn’t realized just how little you interacted with the others until Logan was out of your daily life. It’s so difficult for you to bond with people that when you’d connected with Logan you’d latched onto him. 

It’s a little pathetic, honestly. Being grown and eating lunch alone because you only had one friend. You wonder if your feelings for him were genuine or born from a desperation not to be alone. You don’t let yourself linger on the question for long. 

It’s as your training with the students that you finally see him again. 

“Has he made much progress yet?”

Jean shakes her head and purses her lips. She watches as Billy, one of the newer students, struggles with the logs in front of him. He was a firestarter, a very inexperienced one who had only ever set his curtains on fire. 

His powers were more focused on the mental aspect of things rather than the physical. Which is why you and Jean were in charge of helping him. He couldn’t start anything on his own, he only really seemed to be able to activate the ability when he was emotionally stimulated. 

That meant whenever he was mad or sad, or anything in between, everyone in a fifty-foot radius was in danger. He was a risk to the other students and you were both trying to be gentle with him. But you’d been working with him for so long and there was so little progress. It felt like he wasn’t trying sometimes. 

He’d asked Rogue out a week ago and when she’d said no, her hair had caught on fire. You know he could have been hurt and lashed out without thought or malice behind it. But you’d seen the look in his eye. 

You’re fifty percent sure he knows exactly what he’s doing. This little act he puts on is just to get himself out of trouble. You hadn’t brought the issue to Charles yet because you’re trying to give him the benefit of the doubt. 

“Billy,” you call out. His head whips up and he sends you a vicious glare. You can’t help the sneer on your lips. “Just take a deep breath and try again. There’s nothing wrong with struggling, we all did.”

You put on your normal teacher voice, calm and collected. Assuring. But the little shit in front of you isn’t buying it for a second. He gives you a sarcastic little grin, “Right. Sorry, I forgot you’re a fuck-up just like me.”

“Billy!” Jean snaps, taking a step forward to reprimand him. She doesn’t get far before there’s a fireball shooting out of his palms and hurtling towards the both of you. 

There’s no chance to react before something slams into your side and is tossing you to the ground. Your head nearly snaps against the grass but there’s a hand underneath your skull softening the blow. 

You smell something smoking and look up to see a large scorch mark right where you’d just been. Jean’s standing over it, palm outstretched as she keeps the fire subdued. She gives you a worried look, “Are you okay?”

Surprisingly, yes. You glance up to see Logan hovering over you. He backs off when he notices you’re okay, getting to his knees and offering you a hand. Wordlessly, you slip your palm into his and let him help you into a sitting position. 

“You alright,” his hand hovers over your shoulder like he wants to pull you closer. But he resists, backing off and waiting for your answer. You nod your head, still a little dazed from the failed assassination attempt. 

He narrows his eyes, searching your face for any sign of head trauma. When he’s properly assured you’re okay he jumps to his feet. “Billy!” His voice booms across the courtyard and it’s the first time you’ve ever seen that little asshole scared. 

He’s barely on his feet before Logan is stalking towards him, jerking him forward by the scruff of his neck and dragging him towards the mansion. “We need to have a little talk,” the tone of his voice has you a little scared and you’re not even the one he’s mad at. 

Jean walks towards you and helps you to your feet. “Is your back okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod and brush your clothes off. You have to physically shake the shock of what happened off. “Yeah, I’m fine. I can’t believe he did that.”

Jean scoffs and glares towards Billy’s back. Your eyes widen in shock when you see the large scorch mark across his arm. “Jean! He got you, are you okay?”

She glances down at her shirt and frowns. “Yeah, practically a sunburn.” She gives you a reassuring smile, “I’ll be fine.”

As shitty as this sounds, you’re not concerned for her. You can only focus on the fact that she was in just as much danger as you and Logan had tackled you to the ground. You glance back towards the mansion, more fucking confused than ever. 

You’re not sure what compels you to follow Logan, but you’re running after him before Jean can stop you. He’s barely got a minute headstart on you, you’re not sure why you can’t find him. You’d gone through every inch of the first floor. 

You don’t know where he would have dragged Billy, but it’s nowhere you can find. After about ten minutes of looking for him, you give up on the hope that you’re ever going to figure out what’s happening inside his brain. 

You let out a defeated sigh, running a hand over your face and trying to shake off the funk of the day. You can’t believe that little shit tried to roast you. You’re not comfortable with the fact that he’s just roaming around inside the mansion somewhere. 

You turn out of the living room and nearly slam into someone. His hands shoot out, grabbing your shoulders and gently stopping you. “Logan,” you give him a strained smile. “I was looking for you.” You glance over his shoulder and frown. “Where’s Billy?”

Logan sighs, his hands linger on your arms for a moment before he takes a step back. “Wheels got to him before I could do anything.”

You laugh a little, the noise involuntary. “What were you planning on doing with the sixteen-year-old?”

He doesn’t find the question amusing if his expression is anything to go by. “He was really trying to hurt you.”

His words sober you up slightly and you drop the flippant attitude. “Yeah, I wanted to,” god, it feels like you could choke on the words. Just last week you were screaming at him for not helping you. Now, you could barely thank him because he had. 

“You’re always my priority.” He tells you before you can struggle any longer. Your head shoots up and you stare at him with confusion. He groans, the noise tired and resigned. “Saving Jean was a mistake. I mean it, kid, I just thought you could handle yourself.”

You open your mouth but he stops you before you can argue. “I know, that’s not the point. I should have saved you, no matter what I thought you could or couldn't handle.”

“No,” you stop him and shake your head. “No, Logan, I shouldn’t. I,” your mouth opens and he stares at you expectantly. What you were going to say gets stuck in your throat. This is a horrible idea. 

“I liked you in a way you didn’t like me and it was unfair of me to push my expectations onto you.” You wanted it to sound better, and more intelligent. Instead, it came out in one rushed breath and you’re not sure he even understood half of what you said. 

His brows furrow in confusion for a moment before a smile breaks out on his face. You’re not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that he’s smiling. You can’t tell if he’s mocking you or about to profess his undying love. 

You don’t have to wonder for long. He moves closer towards you, leaning forward until you’re practically sharing the same breaths. Unconsciously, you’re drawn into him, hands braced gently on his chest as you chase after him. 

“What are you doing?” Your whispered words brush against his lips and he gives you a small smile. His hands travel up your waist. He tugs you closer, his other hand looping around your neck and craning you up. 

“I’m gonna choose you every fucking time, kid.” His lips brush across your own and it’s like a switch is flipped in you both. Your arms twine around his neck, pulling him down until you’re practically melting into him. 

It’s everything you’ve ever wanted and so different at the same time. You always thought your first kiss would be after some cheesy first date. He would have taken you out to dinner. Something would have inevitably gone wrong, you spilled something on your dress or the waiter brought the wrong order. 

You would both worry that it was a sign that nothing would work out between you. And then, at the end of the night, he’d tug you into his arms and kiss you like you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. 

That would be nice, but this is better. He’s not holding you like you’re something fragile or something too precious for this world. He’s kissing you like you’re the very air he needs to survive. He’s greedy with his affections and demanding with his wants. 

You’re being consumed and devoured. And you never want to stop. This is all you’ve ever wanted with him, from him. 

Sadly, you do have to breathe. You’re the one that forces the stop, you’re sure he would have happily suffocated if it meant he could keep touching you like this. You pull back, the air coming in short pants between your parted lips. 

You can already feel them swelling, the slight irritation on your cheeks from his stubble. You don’t mind, you quite like the feeling. He speaks before you can, a pleased smile on his face. “Forgive me yet?”

You chuckle, a little impressed by how cheeky he is, still slightly pissed off. “Why don’t you do that again and I’ll think about it?”

He rolls his eyes but you can see the smile fighting against his firm glare. “You’re really gonna make me work for it, huh?”

You smile and nod, leaning into him again. “You’re never gonna hear the end of it,” you whisper before dipping down and kissing him again. You can’t believe you ever doubted just how much he cares for you. 

He didn’t choose Jean over you. He’s just a dumbass. 

a/n: I had to resist putting in a “pick me, choose me, love me” line in there bc that would have just been too much lol

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

General Taglist: @evasmlp

Logan Taglist:  @nonamevenus @smexy-bucky-waifu @wh1sp @peony-always @corvusmorte  

@mrs-ephemeral  @wolviesgirl ♡ 

[seresinhangmanjake]

Healer

Feyd-Rautha x reader

Summary: Feyd's a bit attached to his new healer.

Notes/Warnings: nothing really. Cursing, kinda. Mention of injury. 

Words: 3500

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist / Main Masterlist

He’s been trained never to forget a face. A lesson that started in childhood, which he instantly showed an aptitude for. Sealing the details of a face to memory keeps the image of an enemy alive. It keeps the anger festering. It overtakes his dreams so not a moment is wasted thinking of anything other than the victory of the battles ahead. It keeps him strong, formidable, a weapon of destruction to be used to the benefit of Giedi Prime whenever the situation calls for it, which is not infrequently. 

But there’s been one exception in his life. An exception to those thoughts—a bit of room in his head for a dream other than those of fighting and bloodshed—and it is dedicated to you. Your face. Your eyes. Your smile. 

He never met you. Never spoke to you. Only saw you. As you were led around the Harkonnen fortress by the elder healers, who were all growing too old to properly do their jobs, he peeked around corners and followed down hallways, trying to catch glimpses of the foreign girl. 

He felt like a fool with each silent step he took. Much like the healers, he was too old to be doing what he was doing: lurking about his own home like a child playing hide and seek, striving to be unseen as if he was not important enough to have eyes upon him at all times. But he couldn’t help himself. He was curious. You were unique, and he liked unique things. He liked special things. Special things were all the more satisfying to corrupt. Though, for the first time, he had to contend with the incessant resistance to the voice telling him he didn’t want to hurt you. 

Then you were gone, snatched away from him not a day later. But he’s never forgotten you. Your face has remained a clear image over the last five years, every feature unaltered. Not a mar on your skin misplaced. 

That’s why he recognizes you instantly. 

You’re a bit taller; hair a touch longer. Your features are more defined but still show the delicacy and softness that he remembers from years prior. Curves are prominent; hips wider, breasts fuller, the Geidi Prime leathers doing a poor job of hiding your shape. But you’re still as foreign-looking as ever. Equally as intriguing as the first time he saw you. 

He’s acutely aware of his surroundings: the lack of air circulating, the placement of his body as he leans against the metal table in the center of the room, his discarded shirt. He’d stripped himself of the top half of his bloodied armor before you entered and now can not tell if he’d prefer to have kept it on. Modesty is not a trait attributed to him, but he feels too exposed with you here, like every thought he’s ever had of you is plastered across his pale skin, and the second you look at him, you’ll see the telling display.

But you’ve yet to look in his direction. You’re busying yourself, far more concerned with the bowls of medical supplies on the cart against the wall. You grab a couple of gauzy pads, some tape, and a small metal spatula that you’ve scooped some ointment onto. 

Glancing over your shoulder, your eyes flick to his bicep before you return your attention to your collection. “It’s not too bad,” you tell him, and fuck, he likes your voice. He never got a chance to hear it before. You’d been an obedient little guest while trying to keep up with everything the elders were telling you years ago, and obedient little guests sew their lips shut. “Though I’m sure you’re aware of that.”

When the melody of your voice dissipates, he looks down at his arm. Truth be told, he forgot about the small slice that, with a bit of luck, a slave managed to inflict in the arena. The rush of pleasure subsided and he ceased feeling the warm trickle of blood seeping from the wound the moment you walked into the room, instantly more preoccupied with your surprising presence. 

He was expecting one of the elders, the healers he’s had since he was a boy. But with their recent displays of poor memories and trembling fingers from age, he supposes it was only a matter of time before they would retire. However, he was not made aware of a replacement—a much younger, captivating replacement.

“You're new,” he says through the gravel in his throat. 

“Yes,” you confirm. “But I assure you I know what I'm doing.” Then you turn and set your supplies on the table to the side of his body, laying them out in the order you intend to use them before getting straight to work.

The flinch that your touch induces when you rub an alcohol-soaked pad over his bicep to disinfect and clean the drying blood from his skin stuns him. He’s not a flincher. He never flinches. But he can’t help it. He can’t help the tingle that runs down his spine. He can’t help how his stare glues to your face as you work. He can’t help wanting to press his thumb to your bottom lip and tug it free from the trap of your teeth. 

If he did that, would you even notice? You’re a thorough worker, honed in, too focused to stop and pay attention to him. Your steps are executed with the ease that years of practice afford, and the task is completed much sooner than he would’ve liked. 

Your thumbs stroke over his bicep, smoothing out the edges of the tape that holds the pad to his skin. “There,” you say, satisfied with the job. 

Finally, you look up at him. 

The tingle returns, and bumps travel down the length of his forearms as he watches each shift of your features. How your eyes widen, how your lips part, how your breath hitches, making his heart hammer behind the wall of his chest. You’re so close. It wouldn’t take much to kiss you. A slight dip of his head. A hand on the back of your neck to draw you in those remaining inches. 

But then you blink. The bond of your gazes breaks, and you take a step out of the bubble of space you were sharing. You clear your throat. Your eyes fall to the floor. “I’m done,” you mutter before quickly gathering the used supplies and discarding them in the trash. “I will see you after your next fight, my Lord. Assuming you suffer any injuries.” And then you’re gone. 

—

It’s painful to Feyd’s pride, letting a weaker man succeed in injuring him in front of all of Giedi Prime. Spectators know the slave is an easy kill. He’s too thin, muscle mass barely evident. It’s a duel that should last mere minutes, if that, and yet Feyd lets it extend well past expectations—just long enough to ensure a few slashes of his opponent's blade will penetrate his thin armor without it being obvious he’s allowing the assault to happen. 

The second Feyd feels the third nick in his flesh, a swift, skilled maneuver ends the slave’s life. Three is better than one, he thinks. More injuries means more time spent with you tending to him. And he wants that time. It is all he’s thought about for days. Feeling your touch again. Hearing your voice. Peering into your eyes. 

He does not waste a moment to bask in the cheers following his victory, a tune he usually absorbs as if the sound grants him extended life. Instead, he drops his crimson-coated weapon onto the sand beside the fallen body and stomps toward one of the arena exits.  

You startle when you see him, so subtle that had he blinked, it would’ve gone undetected. A brief scan of his chest confirms what he knew you would be surprised to see: more blood than before, more cuts for you to heal. 

Composing yourself, you make your way to the aid cart. His eyes follow every movement of you collecting what you need before you turn to him, once again arranging your tools in the order you intend to use them.

The alcohol is cooler to the touch this time, a direct repercussion of his burning skin, and he grips the edge of the table until his knuckles whiten. He wants to reach out. He wants to feel you. You’re not as close as you were a few days ago, and it’s a glaring mar on the fruition of his daydreams. A wedge of air between you. 

He leans in a modest couple of inches to see if you will maintain that distance. When you don’t, he says, “Where are you from?”

Your mouth opens and then closes. A pause, and then it opens again. “Caladan,” you say, your eyes still trained on the process of your work.

Caladan. Now that you say it, it makes perfect sense. The hair, the accent, the color of the clothes you wore five years ago. He hasn’t interacted with many Caladanians, any Caladanians, but still, he should’ve guessed. 

“That's where you trained?” he asks, but he knows the answer. It’s common knowledge that Caladan produces strong healers, and you tell him just as much. 

“We have good teachers,” you say as you swipe a spatula’s-worth of ointment just under his collarbone. “Healers from many planets find their replacements on Caladan. I was chosen to come to Giedi Prime long ago, once completing my education.” Feyd hums in acknowledgment. Your eyes flick up to his and then go back to his chest. A pink tinge seeps into your cheeks. “I visited once.”

“Is that right.”

You nod. “I liked it here,” you tell him. “It’s different, but different is…” your voice trails off. “Sometimes different is good.”

Feyd agrees. Different can be good. He runs his gaze down the length of your body. Sometimes different can be very good. 

“Eager to leave such an inferior place?” he asks as you take a step to his right, starting on the cut across his pec. 

Your brow pinches and you swallow—he can sense the hesitation—then you bite your lip. You can’t keep doing that: nibbling on that lip until its swollen state is indistinguishable from that of a long, thorough kiss. He’ll be inclined to do something about it. With each passing second, the urge grows harder to resist, and he’s just about ready to lift his hand to your face when you answer. 

“There was nothing for me on Caladan,” you say. “Nothing for any of us. We were the children without families, without parents.”

Feyd snaps himself out of his fascination with your mouth and scoffs. “So what? They’re useless, anyway.”

The pressure of your hand holding the pad against his chest lightens, and you look up. Your expression is blank, but you hold his stare. 

He can’t tell what’s tumbling around in that mind of yours. Maybe you know, maybe the truth of what he did to his own mother reached far enough to find an orphan’s ear on Caladan. Though what he’s done does not matter to him, he’s suddenly unsure of the effect it may have on you, and he can’t say he would be pleased to have offended you if it widens the gap between your body and his. But it proves inconsequential when your lips quirk up at the corners.

You lightly shake your head as you get back to work. “I wouldn’t know. They were dead before I could remember them.”

A huff blows from his nostrils. “Then trust me.”

Just barely, Feyd detects the slight curve of another smile. Silence passes as you tear off a strip of tape from the roll. Once the tape is sealed to his skin, you move away to begin cleaning up, but he grabs your wrist. You freeze solid. Then your head whips to stare at the contact. “There's one more,” he says before he releases you and turns.

As you step up behind him, the swell of pulsing energy surrounding you merges with his. Each puff of your breath warms his skin. The muscles in his back flex and shift in anticipation of your touch. 

“Right,” you practically whisper. He nearly shudders when the tip of your finger traces a line just under the cut. “Just…stay still.”

Easier said than done.

��

He’ll admit this one potentially went a bit too far. 

He had to do something, though. Something drastic. It’s been months of you tending to his intentional low-grade injuries, but lately you've begun to address them at a much quicker pace. After his last three fights, you’ve come in, slapped a piece of tape on his wounds, and rushed out before he could pull a word or two from you. 

He can’t make sense of it. He doesn’t understand how what he did made everything change. From his perspective, you’ve grown closer. He knows you better from shared details of your history and life—details he does not care to request from any other soul on the planet—and those touches, those moments of skin-on-skin, were only becoming more intense. Your fingers were lingering longer. Your cheeks would redden whenever your eyes met. When your body was close enough to his, your breathing would turn shallow. Then one day, he touched your cheek, ran his thumb over your bottom lip, and now you run away as if being in his presence for too long will suck the life out of you.  

But this you cannot run away from. This requires more attention. 

A groan rumbles from his throat as he peels off his top layer and tosses it aside. The fabric is damp, slick with sweat and blood, and it makes a sloppy noise when it hits the floor. He looks down. It’s deeper than he intended. Not life-threatening by far, but you certainly won’t be able to stick a bandage on it and go on your way.

With a heavy exhale, he grabs a pad from the cart and presses it to his abdomen before crossing the room to lean against the edge of the table. He waits. After a handful of minutes, his patience curdles; thoughts of the impossible start to invade. Are you hiding? Did you escape? Have you thrown yourself off a ledge to get away from him? 

You open the door before he can entertain any other questions. 

“You’re late,” he grumbles. 

The door slams behind you, your gaze instantly going to the blood-soaked gauze. There’s a lack of your usual grace as you stomp your steps in his direction. “Let me see it,” you demand in a tone he’s never heard from you. His heart pounds at the fire in your eyes. The pace of his breaths quickens. 

He does his best to control the rise and fall of his chest, but it’s impossible. Luckily, you’re too distracted by the state of his lower body to notice. “Why are you late?” he asks. 

“Move your hand.”

“Answer me.”

“Move your hand.” His brow raises. A beat passes, and then he pulls back the gauze to reveal the gash in his torso. A frown sets on your face. Your eyes snap to his. “Why?”

“Why what?”

“I watched you,” you tell him. “You gave that prisoner a window.”

“You’re late because you were watching the fight?” You’ve never watched his fights. It is not permitted. Your role is to wait for him, not join in on the entertainment.

You cross your arms under your chest. A crease forms in between your brows. “Why did you let him stab you?” you say, voice steady with the exception of the wobble that briefly sneaks in halfway through. 

An immediate sense of satisfaction settles over him. It’s rapidly becoming clear—you’re more than bothered, more than irritated, you’re worried. And now he has the high ground. “Maybe you should assist me instead of asking questions. I’m bleeding out.”

Your lips part, but whatever words you have contain themselves just before they release, and your mouth closes. You stare at him. A smirk curls the edge of his lips that makes you roll your eyes. 

With a huff, your arms drop down to your sides. “Stand up straight.” 

When he does, your hand knocks his aside to remove the pad so you can better examine him. The bleeding has slowed. The skin around the wound has begun to feel tight. It still hurts like a damn bitch, and the way you focus on him only adds to the pleasurable sensation. 

Your fingers press around the perimeter of the laceration, carefully prodding, searching for signs of something he would not understand, and his throat constricts at those gentle brushes on his flesh. His stomach clenches. Tingles and chills and goosebumps. 

Once you’re satisfied with your findings, your hand flattens against the ridges of his abs. A sharp inhale sucks into his lungs as your palm slides up his body, stopping at the center of his chest. You lightly push. “Lay down,” you instruct. His hand raises and covers yours. He wants to hold on, pull you down with him, on top of him. If he could have your weight begging to meld with his, if he could kiss you– “Down. You need stitches.” 

Your hand escapes from under his, and as you head over to the cart, he pulls himself up onto the table. Your supplies are all the same save for the pliers and thread that you expertly loop through the hole of a needle.

The punctures don’t sting. He can hardly feel them as he watches you nibble on your lip again, unable to jerk his gaze away from your face. With the seconds that tick by, your cheeks begin to bloom a soft pink. The shade deepens the longer he stares. 

“It’ll scar,” you tell him as you tie off a final knot before peeling the gloves from your hands. He finally blinks. As he sits up, you take a few steps back and hug your arms around your waist. “You blocked every fatal attack but allowed this one,” you say. “Tell me why.”   

He hums. It should be obvious. For what other purpose would there be? “Do you really not know?” he asks. When you don’t answer, he says, “Or are you smart enough to come to the conclusion all on your own.”

When he sees the harsh swallow in your throat, that’s all he needs. He slides off the table to stand and slowly eases closer, backing you up until you’re trapped between his body and the concrete wall. He searches for trembling, any evidence of discomfort, but it’s not there—no shaking hands, no quivering lip. His head dips, eliminating some unwanted space. 

Your chin tilts upward slightly. But you hold yourself back. “My Lord…”

“Kiss me,” he whispers.

You swallow again. “You’re the na-Baron.”

“Yes.”

“We can’t–”

“We can,” he says. And then he leans lower and presses his lips to the delicate skin of your neck. He detects a gasp as his tongue darts out and glides across heated flesh. You smell so good. You taste even better. When he pulls back, your noses are almost touching; mouths so close the air between you becomes thin. “Kiss,” he repeats. “Me.”

Your eyes flit between his and his lips, which demand yours. He watches intently, waiting for you to finally surrender and sink into the pulsing thrum of your bodies.

And then you cave. Your hand goes to the back of his neck and your mouth plants firmly on his. 

You kiss him hard, like you've wanted this as much as he has, and he can't help letting you have a moment of control to prove it. But he craves more. His head goes fuzzy as he matches the give and take. Fingers tangle into the strands of your foreign hair, lightly tugging, and he swallows the moan it draws from you.

He's greedy—wanting all that you have to offer. When your tongue touches his, his hands can't stop from roaming from your cheeks to your waist to your hips, pulling you closer. 

Already he knows he won't be able to get over this. That this will not be a single kiss but rather the first of many. Very many. And by the way you grip his shoulders, it seems you know it too.

Suddenly, the connection severs and he's forced to chase after your lips, catching one more kiss before you pull out of reach. His brow pinches, but you don't acknowledge his distaste.

Your breaths are heavy as you peer up at him. “I don't wish to be a Lord's concubine.”

“You won't be my concubine,” he says. Concubine has been the furthest from his mind as his yearning for you has continued to grow over the weeks. It's too weak a title. He likes you more than that. More than his Darlings, more than any woman his uncle has attempted to throw at him. 

“Then what will I be?”

He picks his words carefully, knowing that what he wants, what he's imagined, could be much too overwhelming. Scary, even. And he has no intention of making you a harder conquest. So all he says is:

“You’ll be more.”

---

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I've struggled to write much of anything for the past two months, so this took a lot, and I honestly don't know how it turned out. If you liked it, let me know :)

[no-144444]

farm girl- o.piastri

summary: what's a better way to a guys attention than shouting at him for being too slow?

pairing: oscar piastri x fem! clarkson farm, farm-hand!! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

You weren’t the biggest fan of Jeremy’s reality show, but you enjoyed working the farm, so, as per your agreement, you wouldn’t be featured in episodes as much as possible. You were so far removed in fact, that you didn’t even know that someone else was driving the tractor when you shouted for them to ‘stop being shit’ at driving it. 

“Y/n!” Jeremy shouted. “Stop being rude!”

“What?” you scoffed. “I swear to god, if Finn doesn’t fucking speed up I’m going to-” you started, but stopped yourself when you saw none other than Oscar fucking Piastri in the driver’s seat with an embarrassed and guilty smile on his face. “Sorry,” you offered, internally cursing yourself. “Continue on!” you announced before turning back and continuing on with more of your duties. 

Oscar looked after you as you walked, an amused smile on his face. “Who’s that?”

“Y/n, one of our farmers,” Jeremy explained, a chuckle on his lips. “She’s… fiery.”

“She’s damn good at her job!” someone from off-camera chimed in, making everyone chuckle. 

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

As his day went on, he caught glimpses of you. You were tending to animals, or showing someone around, or just generally being beautiful and mysterious. He was desperate to know more. He asked a million questions about you, and he was sure everyone was aware of his not-so-secret crush on you.

“You should ask her out, she likes F1,” Jeremy advised as they sat down to lunch. “You’re one of her favourite drivers.”

He still got surprised when people knew him, forgetting sometimes that he is, in fact, a public figure. “Yeah?”

Jeremy laughed. “Yeah,”  he scoffed. “Kids these days…”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

When his day of hard labour came to an end, he made it his plan to seek you out, humoring Jeremy’s theory. 

“Hi,” he smiled, standing just behind you. 

You startled, jumping up from whatever it was that you were doing and cursed. “Fucking hell! Announce yourself!” You let it slip before you could really stop yourself, but you didn’t feel all that bad, he should have announced himself. 

He laughed. “What did you think I was trying to do?!”

“Scare the shit out of me?” you scoffed. “I don’t know.”

“I’m Oscar,” he held out his hand to be shaken. “Nice to meet you.”

You took his hand,shaking it quickly. “Y/n. Sorry about the whole…  tractor thing.”

“Nothing but a bruised ego,” he chuckled. “So what do you do around here?”

You shrugged. “A bit of everything, I guess.”

He nodded, and you both stood in silence for a minute. 

“Did you need something?” you questioned. “-Not to be rude, or anything, I just… I've got to get back to the rest of my stuff so… yeah.”

He smiled, enjoying the fact that you were as awkward as him. “Can I get your number?”

You stared at him for a second, then you broke out into one of the most beautiful smiles he’d ever seen. “Why?”

He stepped closer to you. “I think you’re really pretty,” he explained. “And I want to get to know you more.” 

You nodded. “Give me your phone.”

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅

navigation for my blog :) (masterlist)

[luveline]

Hey my lovely, could i equest a blurb where reader seeks one of spencer's hugs and he's all soft and mushy about it!! I just think he'd give really warm hugs and want one so bad!

shy!reader + post!prison Spencer have a hug

Spencer understands why you might find him intimidating. He did go to prison for a few weeks, and even if the idea of his being a potential felon didn’t scare you, there’s nothing wrong with being nervous around the unknown. You’ve had a few more weeks to get to know the others on the team. He tries not to take it personally that you’re closer with some of them than you are him. 

Plus, you’re awfully shy. 

Spencer’s been trying to communicate that he’s an idiot. He was shy, once, and he tends to be shy about things now, too, even if he’s taken to hiding that. He hides a lot, these days. 

But things aren’t hopeless with you. You’re inarguably his best work friend now that Morgan’s not around, taking the desk next to his —through coincidence or insistence, he has no idea. 

“What flavour do you have today?” he asks. 

You show him your bag. The convenience store outside of work has the strangest sweets from all sorts of places. You’ve been bringing in a different bag each day, and you always share. “Today is apricot and peach ‘millions’,” you tell him, shaking the bright pink bag like a rattle. 

Inside, the millions bounce against each other like miniscule polystyrene balls but with a heavier weight. 

“Awesome!” he says, holding out his hand. “Please?” 

You rip the corner and tip a generous helping of candies into his palm, doing the same in your own hand. “Ready?” you ask. 

“Three, two, one.” 

You both tip your heads back at the same time. Apricot and peach are similar flavours, and Spencer can’t tell the difference when they’re both in play. He can also taste apple juice and the sharp citric acid flavour they put in every candy. 

He can’t tell if you like them. He quite enjoys it, will happily eat the leftovers if you’re not interested, but your attention isn’t on the candy when he looks up. You’re staring straight at him. 

“What?” he asks, perturbed. 

“Nothing, just. Had a rough morning. Thanks for trying the candy with me.” 

He frowns. “I’m sorry. Let me know if there’s something I can do to make you feel better. I can make you a cup of hot chocolate?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

Spencer’s sure that to an outsider, he and the team appear to travel to a hundred cities a month. In reality, cases aren’t as densely packed, especially with the government expanding their profiling teams, and the majority of Spencer’s day is spent answering emails and giving advice to agents, law enforcement, and his colleagues. He doesn’t see much of you (where you’re forced to work ViCAP calibration as newbies usually are, almost like a hazing) but he does take you that hot chocolate around lunch time. Just to make sure you have the option. 

It’s sometime past four PM when you appear again. 

“Hey,” he says, turning to you where you’re paused behind your desk chair, “you're finally done?” 

“Not yet. So many case files to transcribe, opinions to cross check, signatures and…” You wince. “It’s a lot. You already know.” 

“I don’t, actually. I only ever had to do ViCAP as punishment, and I was extremely well-behaved. For a while, anyway.” 

You hesitate with something heavy on the tip of your tongue. You’re like every profiler wherein your tells are self-identified and quelled, but you’re still so new, and Spencer’s an expert. You want to ask him for something, but you don’t think you’re allowed. If he presses the issue you’ll shut down, and if he offers you another cup of hot chocolate you’ll simply drink it without letting him in on the real secret. 

Spencer waits. 

“Spencer, you don’t have to say yes, just… You’re the nicest friend I have, and you always know what I need to hear. Um, I know you don’t like touching people and I wouldn’t ask you to if you don’t want to, but it’s been a really long time since someone hugged me, and…” Your voice gets quieter and quieter, until you’re whispering, and then fizzling out. 

“You want a hug?” he asks, surprised. 

“If that’s okay.” 

“I give really good hugs,” he warns, climbing from his chair immediately, arms opened, an unmissable invitation. “You’ll never get over it.” 

“Really?” 

He can’t believe you came to him specifically for a hug. He’s gonna lose his mind. Gentle, Spencer ushers you into his arms, head quick to duck down, his thumb on your shoulder. 

You could’ve asked anybody in the office for a hug. Penelope would have hugged your brains out. Emily, Unit Chief and secret sweetheart, would’ve taken you off of ViCAP and given you a loving pat on the back. But you didn’t ask Penelope or Emily, you asked him. 

“You don’t have to ask me first,” he says quietly. 

“You don’t like touching.” 

“That’s more to do with germs, and I’m not worried about yours,” he says. “Unless you’re about to tell me you have a headache.” 

“It’s like this pounding behind my eyes,” you say with a laugh. 

Spencer smiles, his mouth and nose to the side of your head. He gives you a good ten seconds of quiet, his palm warming your shoulder, before he murmurs, “Any better?” 

“You’re really warm,” you murmur back. 

Spencer resists the urge to squeeze you. “It's the oxytocin.”

“Or you’re just really, really warm.”

[roanniom]

King Steve flirting with inexperienced never been flirted with reader

Smartest

King!Steve Harrington x tutor!fem!reader

Read Part 2

Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY, PIV/unprotected sex, teasing, coercion but consensual, King!Steve is a manipulative douchebag and is his own warning

“You’re really good at this stuff,” Steve says, watching for your reaction as you scribble math equations across the notebook paper. He can see embarrassment bloom across your features and he has to suppress the zing of triumph he feels. It’s so easy.

It makes him want to push it.

“It’s kinda hot.”

The pencil stops in its path and your eyes shoot up to his, brow raised.

“I’m not…that’s…you’re messing with me, Harrington,” you finally settle on in what you hope is a dismissive tone. Steve notes the way your hand writing becomes more shaky. He sucks on his teeth for a second before chuckling.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to be modest. Hot girl like you must be raking in the compliments.”

You shake your head but don’t look up from your work. Well…his work. The homework that you’re doing for him even though you were supposed to be tutoring him so he doesn’t fail algebra and miss out on basketball.

But his hand is suddenly on your knee.

“Look at you ignoring me. What, you tutor a football player that’s stealing all your attention? Nothing left for me?”

“I…I don’t tutor the football team,” you answer, dumb in spite of your high IQ. You look up and Steve’s grin is big, glad he could finally distract you. He’d gotten bored with the repetition of watching you do his homework. He’s got nothing else lined up today, might as well have some fun. It’s not like his parents are home and it’s a shame to waste a big empty house.

“Thought I was your favorite pupil,” Steve says in a mock whine, giving you puppy dog eyes that seem to short circuit your brain.

Bingo.

You can do his homework later.

“Y-you are,” you admit shyly. It makes Steve smile at you again and your heart bursts, the shriveled up crush you’ve been nursing for years finally being watered and rehydrated. You can hear your heart beat in your ears.

“Good. Because you’re my favorite hot tutor,” Steve says with a wink. You swallow visibly at that and Steve laughs. “You’re still acting like nobody’s ever called you hot before and I call bullshit.”

“No….nobody’s ever called me hot before,” you say in a small voice. Steve’s eyes widen for a second. He’d been pressing on that point, not really thinking too hard about whether or not it could be true. It was just mindless flirting. And pretty lazy flirting, to be honest.

He takes the space of a second to wonder if he feels bad about your clear inexperience and insecurity. Instead, he feels a dark, sour tinge of excitement. Your obvious interest is an opportunity. He doesn’t take any time to analyze whether he should be ashamed of that thought.

“Do you like it when I call you hot?” Steve asks. It’s not a question. Not really. Not when he knows the answer is yes. But he’s angling for something as his hand slides up from your knee to your thigh. You drop the pencil fully and give your attention completely to him.

“Y-yeah. I do.”

“Do you like it when I do…this?” Steve ask, lifting your arm and delivering a kiss to the inside crook of your elbow. You squirm but a smile starts forming on your face.

“Yeah.”

“And this?” Steve asks, moving up to kiss your bare shoulder, just beside the spaghetti strap of your sun dress.

“Uhuh.”

Steve moves to the edge of his seat so that his knee moves between your thighs under your skirt. You squeak a bit at the new proximity. One of Steve’s large hands grips your waist, pulling you to him so he can mouth at the side of your neck.

“What about this?”

The feeling of his lips on your skin lights you on fire and you find it hard to keep responding.

“Oh…” Your thighs try to close, a sudden twinge of need at their apex urging you to seek out friction. You end up squeezing your legs around his knee which has pushed between them. Steve pulls back and smirks.

"Oh," he teases. He slides his hand over the slope of your hip, to your stomach and down to your lower abdomen over the fabric of your skirt. Steve’s heavy lidded eyes find yours. “You seemed to really like that, huh?”

“I….I….” you stammer, unsure of what to do with your hands so you drop them to rest shakily on his forearms. Steve leans forward again, dropping his wet open mouth to the curve of your neck and sucking.

“Oh…fuck,” you whimper broke my. Steve chuckles against your spit-slicked skin.

“How am I supposed to learn from you if you’re going to set a bad example like that?” he asks wryly. You blink at him, watching as his hands move to the buttons at the neckline of your sun dress. Your chest rises and falls more rapidly as your breathing speeds up, both with arousal and anticipation.

Steve undoes the top button with deft fingers. Instead of shrinking away, you arch your back almost imperceptibly towards his hands. Steve definitely notices.

“Ohhhh,” he says teasingly. “Or does the tutor want to learn a thing or two from the student?” His voice is lilting and light, but his eyes are dark. You look away for a second before looking back at him. Eyes the tentative. Nod small. Steve nods back along with you. “Okay then. We’ll first of all, we have to have the right workspace, don’t we?”

When you nod, Steve surprises you by standing up and swiping all the books, papers, and writing utensils off the dining room table and onto the ground in one broad sweep of his arm.

“Steve!” you squeal out in surprise, slapping a hand over your mouth. You know his parents are out of town and the two of you are alone, but when he grabs you and manhandled you to sit on the table, you suppress the startled shriek that tries to come out. Steve pulls you to the edge of the table and bullies his way between your legs, your thighs bracketing his hips. Steve’s hands return to the buttons of your dress.

“Then we have to gather the right materials. See what we’re working with, right?” He pauses, looking at you for confirmation as if you have any idea what he’s saying. You nod mindlessly and Steve proceeds to rip open the last few buttons, exposing your bra clad breasts. He hums in satisfaction as you cringe in embarrassment over the exposure. But all embarrassment leaves you when his big hands close over your breasts, squeezing and groping appreciatively.

“Mmmm yeah. These’ll do,” Steve hums before leaning in and kissing over where they swell out of their cups from the squeeze of his strong hands. You gasp when he yanks the bra down to expose them fully. Steve’s brows life. “These tits’ll definitely do.”

Next thing you know, Steve is kissing and sucking his way from one breast to the other, leaving you a twitching mess in his arms. You feel a hardness press into your apex beneath the skirt of your dress and it occurs to you that he’s turned on just like you are. Which is a stupid thought since he’s literally sucking hickeys all over you right now, but your lust addled mind can still barely comprehend that this is happening right now.

When you begin rolling your hips into that hardness, Steve takes notice.

Pulling back, lips wet, he grins at you.

“Me playing with these tits not enough for you?” he asks, one hand still fondling your breast. Lucky for you, he doesn’t seem interested in a reply. Instead he flips your skirt up, showing the dark wet patch that’s bloomed in your panties and - more importantly - the erection clear in his tight jeans. “That’s alright. It’s not enough for me either.”

You blink slowly as you watch him grind his hard on against your clothed pussy. The friction catches on your clit and you gasp, unable to take your eyes off the outline of the shape pressing against you. Steve takes your hand and brings it down between your bodies, squeezing to make you grip his cock.

“Feel that? You did this to me,” he says, almost accusatory if not for the chuckle. A possessive thrill of pride runs down your spine and you squeeze at him, making him grunt in appreciation. Steve looks up at you from beneath his lashes in a faux display of boyishness. “Gonna help me out here?”

You nod feverishly.

“Yes…I…please–,” is all you manage to get out before Steve’s mouth is on you. The kiss is deep and possessive and aggressive and you feel absolutely devoured. His hands feel like they are everywhere at once, paradoxically, as he pulls at you and grips you and grabs you. So distracted see you by his mouth and tongue that you barely register a moment of cold air hitting between your legs before the warm slide of something hot and thick rubs against your opening.

“Now for the big lesson,” Steve says, the corner of his mouth curving lasciviously. The fat head of his cock teases at your clit, making you sink your nails into his arms. He’s big. Huge even. And that’s the last thought you have before he’s begin to slide himself inside you, splitting you open.

“Steve!” It comes out in a rush with all the air he punches out of you with the penetration. Steve kisses your neck and hums.

“That’s it, baby. That’s it.”

He bottoms out and there’s nothing but your ragged breaths to fill the silence for a moment before he’s pulling out, causing you to reel again.

“I know it’s big, baby, I know,” he coos. The taunting cockiness should put you off, but for some reason it heats you up even more. One his hands finds your clit and you let out a moan at the expert circles he begins to rub in.

Your walls relax with the stimulation, and your increasing wetness makes it easy for Steve to begin fucking you in earnest.

“Taking it so well, baby. Fuck.”

His words ring in your ears and it feels like everything begins and ends with Steve in your line of sight.

“Oh…oh…” you moan with each inward stroke. You’re rocketing towards a climax better than your most lavish fantasies.

Steve Harrington is fucking you. On his dining room table.

Your arms are around his neck, but eventually he pushes you down so your back is flat against the wooden surface. With his hands on your hips, Steve holds you steady so he can piston his hips at a break neck speed. Your entire body rocks against the table, Steve’s eyes focused on the bounce of your breasts with the force of each thrust.

“This is so much better than homework, fuck!” he groans out. You let out a breathless laugh at that and Steve looks down at you. “This is what you wanted, right? For me to fuck you all this time?”

The embarrassment surges up again but he hits a spot deep down inside that makes you whine instead. Steve takes it as confirmation.

“Bet you’ve been wet every time you’ve come over here. Just hoping I’d fuck this - fuck. This tight little pussy.”

“Yes. Yes, Steve.”

“Yes, Steve,” Steve mimics your pathetic, breathy confession. He’s close himself now, and his fingers are sure to leave bruises from the force of him squeezing you. “Next time I should just bend you over while you’re doing my work and fuck you. How’s that sound?”

You don’t say anything, too far gone at this point, and Steve laughs.

“Probably wouldn’t be able to keep doing my work with my cock in you. Makes you too brainless apparently.”

You’re practically drooling as you gaze up at him with hazy eyes, seconds from your orgasm. You being so out of it is what’s doing it most for Steve.

“Christ, look at you. Smartest girl in school and here you are, fucked stupid. It’s so. Fucking. Hot.”

And you - someone who until today had never been called hot ever - find yourself breaking into a million pieces with his words. Your orgasm crashes over you and you spasm around him, back arching off the table as you let out a massive cry.

~*~

Over time you are able to build up to a point where you don’t go as brainless. Eventually you’re able to kind of still do his homework as Steve fucks you.

But inevitably during every tutoring session there comes a point where Steve hits that place inside you just right, and his filthy words filter into your ear - and you go dumb.

Just the way he likes it.

~*~

-

—

—-

——

——-

Hope you enjoyed! Please reblog and comment to let me know!

Read Part 2

[storiesfromafan]

Look Who's Jealous Now - Benny x Reader

A/N: I was surprised by the amount of interest in the sneak peak I posted got. Thank you all!! Forgive any grammer or spelling mistakes 😅

Previous part: Jealousy Does Look Good On You 😊

Also, I posted this challenge. Feel free to check it out and make a request 😊😊

Tag list: @strayrockette @thegabbyh

Being Benny's girl meant being by his side, arm around you or his jacket. His stormy blue eyes seeking you out in the bar, sparkling when finding you sitting with Kathy or other Vandal women. Him picking you up after work. And taking you for rides on his bike.

Which led to today's Vandal ride. A group of you going to a car show. Those that didn't ride, gave the bikers looks of disgust or distaste. All the while, other biker clubs gave some sign of recognition. You found it all fascinating, how bike owners and car owners didn’t get along. But there were a few exceptions.

You were sitting on a blanket with a few other women, Benny was standing near by with Johnny in conversation. Both men drink in hand and laughing at something Johnny said. You smiled at your man, admiring the boyish smile on his face, or when he'd laugh. Then those eyes were looking at you, as if he'd felt your gaze on him. Benny gave you a soft warm smile, which had you melting.

“Give it a rest, will ya" jested Betty, pushing your shoulder.

Braking eye contact with Benny, you looked back to the older woman, as well as Kathy and Gale as they laughed at you. After that night a month ago, hearing what happened with Benny after you took off. The women had teased you on and off. And every time you and Benny gave each other the goo-goo eyes, one of them told you to give it a rest. You couldn't help it, you were in the early stages of this relationship.

“Sorry my happiness offends ya" you retorted sticking your tongue out.

Once more the women laughed, this time you joined in with them. You felt light and happy. From both the women around you, but also because of Benny. If someone had told you a month ago this was what was install for you, you wouldn’t have believed them. Right now you were happy, even if the road to get here was crazy.

Benny watched how you laughed with the other women. Smiling happily that you were having a good time. For him this month has felt like being on the open road, content and freeing. Finally making you his girl made him feel complete. But also, part of him still felt bad for upsetting you that night. It wasn’t his intentions when being around Angela. But he didn’t feel bad for using her to bait your outburst. He liked that you’d been jealous, made him feel good to know you wanted him, just as much as he wanted you.

“Stop it with the goo-goo eyes, will ya” Johnny said with a roll of his eyes, bringing Benny’s attention back to the older man. “Ya makin’ me sick, kid”. He joked with a laugh.

Benny laughed, sticking his free hand in his jeans pockets. “Whatever old man".

Johnny smile warmly at the younger Vandal. “Nuh, I’m happy for ya, both of ya. It was ‘bout time ya made her ya girl. You’d both been tippy-toein’ around it".

Benny felt embarrassed hearing those words. Because it was true. But you were different to all the other girls – women – for Benny didn’t want to show off and take you just on a ride of his bike. That would have been to easy. That’s why he spent the time with you, talking with you. He wanted to know you. And he did. But then he got nervous and somewhat shy to ask you out. He found himself second guessing himself.

Benny told you that, opening up to you as best her could. And since then you have done everything to reassure him that you wanted him. If you could tell Benny was starting to doubt or second guess himself, you’d be there, doing everything to show him he was good enough or right. Then when it came to you, Benny was pushing you out of your comfort zone also. The best example of that was when you’d ride with him. He’d go so fast on the open road that you would be cursing, telling him to slow down. But he’d always say you’ve got nothin' to worry about sweetheart, I won’t let anythin' happen to ya. And you would believe him. You always will.

“Yeah...she’s really somethin'" Benny said with pride, his eyes going back to you.

You got up from your spot on the blanket, along with Kathy. You both needed to use the restroom. The short walk was filled with conversation and laughter. Kathy being one of the women you were closest too. You thought she was nice and honest, no beating around the bush with her.

After doing what you both had too, you began to walk back to the others, only taking your time to look at the cars in passing. Neither of you knew much to do with cars, but you admired their looks.

“Such a nice colour" Kathy commented on the current car you were both looking at.

You nodded. “It really is, bet she sounds good too".

“You should see her on the road" came a familiar male voice from behind you.

You turned around in shock to see your old family friend Victor. You smiled brightly, taking in how he had changed since you had seen him last, which was before he went back to college. He looked fitter, and tanner. No doubt from playing football. He was the boy next door mixed with jock.

“Victor! My gosh!” You said with amazement, before moving to give him a quick hug. “How have ya been?”

Victor laughed as he hugged you back. You stepped back and looked at him with amazement. Remembering Kathy by your side, you apologized and introduced the two. Victor shook Kathy’s hand with a warm smile, as he said hello. Kathy looked between you too, finding it all to amusing to see you both reuniting.

Unfortunately for you, someone else had been watching. Benny had seen you and Kathy making your way back, but stopping to admire different cars. He smiled at how cute you were. He was making his way to you when he saw the athletic young man step up. And then watched the surprise on your face before you both shared a brief hug.

It left a sour taste in Benny’s mouth, seeing you smile and talk to this guy. And usually he’d find your sheepishness cute – when it’s aimed at him – but he strongly disliked it when it came to this guy. He asked himself who was this guy, anyways?

Slowly Benny crept forward, catching the end of whatever you’d been saying to Kathy.

“...our families have been so close, especially after Victor" – so that’s his name, Benny thought – “and my brother played together on the football team. Guess you went on to play college ball, huh?” You softly laughed, looking to Victor.

Yep, Benny didn’t like this guy. He did not like the preppy look of him. And he really didn’t like how you were all smiles and giddy. Dare he say, Benny Cross was jealous of the guy you were with? Yes, a hundred percent he was.

Stepping up to you, as your back was to him, Benny put his arm around you. Drawing you close before putting a kiss to your temple, all the while staring down Victor. “Hey sweetheart" he greeted with his deep voice.

You jumped before realising who it was. Relaxing, you turned to Benny with a bright smile. Leaning up to place a peck to the corner of his lips. “Hey".

Once you moved your head back you noticed that Benny’s gaze was focused on Victor, his eyes drawn in and sharp on the young male. Whom was standing there looking at Benny, with a smile upon his face, not a care in the world. You shot Kathy a confused look, which she shrugged at. Though you both could feel some kind of tension between the two males.

“Ah, I think I’ll head back” Kathy slowly said, deciding to remove herself from the situation.

You shot her a sour look before she took off. Leaving you with the two males from and in your life. Neither male looked away from the other. You guessed Benny was staking his claim to you, as he probably didn’t know who Victor was. And Victor, being like a big brother, was working out if Benny was good enough.

“Well...” you said clearing your voice. “Benny, this Victor, an old friend to my family. Victor, this Benny, my boyfriend".

You looked a little shock after calling Benny your boyfriend. That word never leaving your lips before. Sure, you’d called him it in your head. You felt a warmth rise in your chest after voicing what Benny was to you. As you were known as Benny’s girl. With a silly smile upon your face you turned to your boyfriend, placing a hand on his chest. Which seemed to get Benny’s attention.

Looking to you, he was greeted to the sight of you smiling up at him. Seeing that silly smile warmed his heart, almost making him forget the man who’d hugged you. He could see a twinkle in your eyes, like something perked you up more. Whatever it was, Benny liked it and always wanted you be like this.

Victor cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you".

Both you and Benny turned to face Victor. “Yeah, nice to meet ya". That pointed looked back on Benny's  face as he looked to the man before him.

Victor nodded his head. “Well, as I mentioned before, this car" – he moved to stand by his car – “is amazing on the road. I’ll have to take you for a ride, hey cupcake".

You rolled your eyes at the old nickname, but bashfully smiled. “Vic...not that nickname. Let it die, please”.

Victor laughs at your words. “I will never let it go, cupcake”.

You moved forward and swatted Victor’s arm, making him laugh more. And then you laughed as well. All the while Benny watched the playfulness between you too, and not liking it one bit. Especially when Victor put his hand on your arm, holding firmly to stop you once and for all. The way this guy looked at you, the familiarity and warmth. It was off putting for Benny. This guy, even if he’s an old family friend, having his hand on you and looking at your warmly, ticked him off. That green eyed monster rising.

“How about that drive sometime?” Victor’s voice brought Benny back to the matter at hand, the male speaking.

“Ah, yeah. That would be” – you looked to Benny, but am surprised to see the unfriendly look directed to Victor – “...great". Great coming out unsure.

Your old friends face lit up when you agreed, not noticing the uncertainty in your voice. Going on about where you both should take a drive too. All the while you were unsure on how Benny was taking all this. Though with every passing moment that look seems to get darker, and getting annoyed.

That’s when it hit you. Benjamin Cross was jealous. Jealous of your old family friend Victor. Turning back to Victor, you couldn’t help the wicked little smile that crossed your lips. Now would be the best time to give your boyfriend a taste of his own medicine. Finally you could show him how you felt when he spent time with Angela.

“I don’t mind where we go" you replied, placing a hand on Victor’s arm. “As long as you can open that car up".

Benny’s gazed moved to you, not impressed with your reply.

“Of course! She’s made to go fast" Victor laughed.

You continued to smile, looking at Victor. You both talk about his car, you asking any and every question you can think of. All the while feeling the dark cloud that was Benny behind you.

And oh Benny was not enjoying the attention you were giving this guy. Nor did he like the way Victor was smiling at you. He knew he was an old family friend, friends with your brother. But a small part of him wondered if you had ever had a crush on him. If Victor had liked you. Did either of you act on it. Was there hand holding and cuddling. Or did you ever kiss. Every thought making the jealousy in him grown.

Then he did it. Victor held your hand as he led you around behind his car. Leaving Benny standing there seething. This guy had the audacity to take your hand and lead you away from him. Benny’s hands clenched for a moment, before he unclenched them, for he had to control this anger, to control the want to lay hands on this man. He wouldn’t – couldn’t do that, for you would not forgive him if he did.

Next minute he heard your loud giggle. That was it. Snapping out of it Benny made his way to you both. You were leaning against the back of the car, still in conversation with Victor, who stood too close to you with that charming smile. With a small growl, Benny walked over between the two of you. Victor taking a few steps back.

“Benny?” You asked confused and concerned at the annoyed look on your boyfriend’s face. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything alright?” Asked Victor, which made Benny turn and glared at him.

Without a word Benny pulled you from your leaning position. And without an ounce of trouble, he picked you up so you were over his shoulder. You let out a surprised yelp. After realising what had just happened you started to hit at Benny’s back and saying for him to put me down. But it fell on deaf ears, as your boyfriend then stomped off, back towards his bike.

“Ah, sorry Vic!” You called, throwing him a slight wave.

The man you’d just called to looked at you with a shocked expression, returning your wave awkwardly. With every step you continued to hit Benny’s back and repeating your demand to be put down.

“What is ya problem!?” You practically yelled, now gaining an audience as you both moved on.

Benny huffed. “Had enough of him" was his gruff reply.

You blinked, taking a pause from hitting your boyfriend. “Come again?” You asked in confusion.

“I said, I had enough of him" Benny stated, like it was fact.

“Hmm" you hummed.

You took a moment to let his words sink in. As well as his actions. You smiled at your jealous boyfriend, before starting to laugh. Your plan looked to have worked. You got under his skin. You practically cackled, which had Benny questioning you on what’s up with ya?

You smiled brightly. “My, my, my. Looks who’s jealous now, huh?” And again you laughed.

Benny huffed, jostling you on his shoulder, silencing you. He smirked at that. Though it didn’t last for long. As you began to sing that he was jealous. Reaching his bike Benny planted you back on your feet, met with a big grin on your face.

“Admit it, you were jealous~” you sang.

Benny rolled his eyes, but feeling embarrassed by the weight of your attention on him. Yes, he was jealous. And a small part of him feared it could be the start of loosing you. You noticed how Benny looked away, his eyes looking worried. Your smile dropped. You stepped closer seeing how worried he was. You brought your hands up, cupping his face and turning his gaze back to you.

“Hey, you have nothin' to worry about" you said softly, eyes boring into his beautiful baby blues. “If ya think I’d want Vic, no chance. I want my bike riding Vandal any day".

Hearing those words, Benny let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. His eyes softening, the worry slowly leaving. Replaced with warmth and endearment for you, which is everything you had for him.

You pulled Benny’s face towards yours, the Vandal not putting up a fight. You brought his lips to yours in a soft, tender kiss. A reassurance he needed, and felt from you. Wrapping an arm around you, Benny drew you in close. You smiled at how needy he could be at times. But you wouldn’t push it away or say no.

Pulling back you looked at your man. “I still can’t believe ya got jealous" you giggled.

Benny groaned, hiding his face in your crook of your neck which only made your giggle turn into a laugh. Retaliating, Benny began to nip at your neck. Which earned him a small squeal from him, and a playful slap to his shoulder. You both laughing at it all.

“Yeah, I’ll admit I was jealous, happy?” Benny muttered against your skin.

Smiling triumphantly you said, “good...now ya know how I felt".

[baelabong]

ᴍʏ ʏ/ɴ

(ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ,ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰꜰ) ᴍɪɴᴊɪ x ꜰᴇᴍ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

plot: Minji was bad for you, and you knew it, but somehow, you still couldn’t walk away.

Note: this is for my @zaynieshdieh my favourite in the whole wide world of tumblr

warnings: like one punch, lowkey toxic minji, dumbass reader

Minji had always been the nonchalant type—charming, confident, and frustratingly aloof. It was part of what drew you to her in the first place. The thrill of being with someone so unattainable, someone who could make you feel like you were the only one in the world with just a glance, was intoxicating. But as time went on, that thrill turned into a gnawing unease. You both weren’t exclusive, and Minji made sure to remind you of that whenever the conversation even hinted at commitment.

Tonight, you were curled up on the couch together, her black hoodie draped over your shoulders as you leaned into her, seeking comfort in the familiar scent of musky velvet that clung to her clothes. Minji’s arm was slung lazily around you, but her attention was elsewhere, her fingers tapping away on her phone.

You glanced over, catching a glimpse of the name on the screen, and felt your heart sink. She was texting someone else again. It wasn’t the first time, but it stung just the same. You bit your lip, trying to push the feeling down, but the hurt was hard to hide.

Minji noticed the shift almost immediately, her sharp eyes flicking up from her phone to your face. She let out a small, almost mocking laugh, as if she found your reaction amusing. She tossed her phone onto the couch beside her and turned her full attention to you, leaning in closer with that smug, boyish grin that you both loved and hated.

“What’s with the face, baby?” she asked, her voice teasing but with a dark edge to it. “Getting jealous again?”

You felt your breath hitch as she leaned in even closer, her gold chain dangling just above you, brushing lightly against your skin. The closeness was overwhelming, the scent of her hoodie filling your senses, but it did little to ease the unease gnawing at you.

“I just don’t get it, Minji,” you mumbled, your voice barely above a whisper. “Why can’t we just make this official? Why does it always feel like you’re keeping me at arm’s length?”

Minji smirked, a cold, detached look in her eyes as she tilted her head, her hand coming up to play with a strand of your hair. “Because I like things the way they are. You know that, baby. We’re having fun, aren’t we? Why mess with it?”

Your heart tightened at her words, the casual way she dismissed your feelings like they were nothing. “But it’s complicated… I can’t keep doing this if I’m just one of many to you.”

Minji’s expression darkened, and before you could react, she grabbed your chin, tilting your face up so you had no choice but to look into her eyes. “You’re not just one of many. You’re my only y/n,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “But I never promised you anything more, did I?”

Her grip on your chin was firm, her eyes boring into yours with a mix of frustration and something more possessive. The way she held you, her hoodie enveloping you in its musky scent, made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight. All you could focus on was the heat of her body against yours and the icy coldness of her words.

Minji finally released you, her smirk returning as she leaned back, satisfied with your silence. “That’s what I thought,” she murmured, her voice softer now, almost affectionate. “Just relax, okay? You’re the one I’m with right now, so stop overthinking it.”

You swallowed hard, the mix of fear and longing twisting in your chest. Even as your heart ached for more, for something real, you couldn’t help but be drawn back to her, craving the small moments of tenderness she allowed you, even if they came wrapped in toxicity.

———-

She was always out, always busy, and you couldn’t help but wonder who she was with when she wasn’t with you. The small, gnawing doubts turned into something bigger—a sinking feeling in your chest that wouldn’t go away. But you pushed it down, telling yourself you were overthinking, that Minji would never hurt you like that.

One evening, you decided to surprise Minji at her place. She had been distant lately, and you thought maybe spending some quality time together would bring her back to you. As you reached her apartment, you noticed the door was slightly ajar. Your heart pounded as you stepped inside, the sound of soft laughter coming from the living room.

There, on the couch, was Minji, wrapped up with someone else. The sight was like a knife to the chest. The girl in her arms was laughing, leaning into Minji’s touch in a way that felt too intimate, too familiar. It was a scene that should’ve been reserved for you.

“You’re terrible, Minji,” the girl teased, playfully swatting Minji’s chest as she laughed. “But I kinda like that about you.”

Minji chuckled, her voice low and teasing. “I’m just saying, if I wanted, I could have you wrapped around my finger in no time.”

The girl smirked, leaning closer until her lips were nearly brushing Minji’s. “Oh? And what makes you think I’m not already?”

Minji’s eyes darkened with a mix of amusement and something more as she pulled the girl even closer, her hand resting on her thigh. “Guess I’ll just have to find out, won’t I?”

That was when Minji looked up and saw you standing there, frozen in the doorway. Her eyes widened in shock, and the smirk on her face disappeared in an instant.

“Y/N—” Minji began, her voice faltering for the first time, but you didn’t wait for her to finish. The hurt and betrayal washed over you like a tidal wave, too raw and overwhelming to process.

Without another word, you turned and fled, ignoring the frantic calls of your name echoing behind you.

“Y/N! Wait!” Minji’s voice was desperate now, but you couldn’t stop, couldn’t look back. The image of her with that girl was seared into your mind, a wound that would take far too long to heal.

You didn’t know where to go, your mind a blur of pain and anger. Before you knew it, you were standing outside Yujin’s apartment. She was your best friend, the one person you knew would understand. When she opened the door, her eyes widened in concern at the sight of your tear-streaked face.

Without a word, Yujin pulled you into her arms, holding you close as you finally broke down. She didn’t ask what happened, didn’t push you to talk until you were ready. She just let you cry, her presence a comforting anchor in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

“I walked in on her with someone else,” you finally choked out, your voice barely a whisper. “She didn’t even try to hide it.”

Yujin’s grip on you tightened, her jaw clenched in anger on your behalf. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that.”

You stayed with Yujin that night, finding solace in her unwavering support. She made you feel safe, cared for in a way that Minji never had. The next few days were a blur of emotions as you tried to process what had happened. Yujin was there for you every step of the way, always ready with a comforting word or a shoulder to cry on.

Meanwhile, Minji was falling apart. She tried calling, texting, even showing up at your place, but you refused to see her. You couldn’t—your heart couldn’t take it. Minji’s world, once so perfectly balanced, was crumbling, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She realized, too late, that you were the one she couldn’t afford to lose.

Minji broke things off with every girl she had been seeing behind your back. It wasn’t easy; they didn’t understand why she was suddenly pushing them away, but Minji didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was fixing the mess she had made with you.

After days of agonizing over how to reach you, Minji finally found the courage to go to Yujin’s place, knowing you’d be there. She stood at the door, her heart pounding as she knocked. When Yujin answered, her expression was icy, clearly not pleased to see her.

“I need to talk to her,” Minji pleaded, her voice trembling. “Please, Yujin. I need to make this right.”

Yujin’s eyes narrowed, anger flashing in them as she stepped outside, closing the door behind her. “Talk to her?” Yujin’s voice was low, dangerous. “After what you did? You think a few words are going to fix this?”

Minji took a step back, startled by the intensity of Yujin’s anger. “I know I messed up, Yujin. But I love her. I’ll do anything to make it right.”

Yujin scoffed, her fists clenching at her sides. “Love? You call what you did love? You don’t deserve her, Minji.”

Before Minji could respond, Yujin’s anger boiled over. She didn’t even think, didn’t give Minji a chance to react before her fist connected with Minji’s jaw. The force of the punch sent Minji stumbling back, her hand flying to her face in shock.

“What the hell, Yujin!” Minji gasped, the pain radiating through her face.

But Yujin wasn’t done. The rage she felt on your behalf took control, and she lunged at Minji again, grabbing her by the collar and shoving her against the wall. “Do you have any idea how much you hurt her? How much she cried because of you? You don’t get to just show up here and pretend everything’s okay!” Yujin huffed and continued with gritted teeth “if it weren’t for you, I would have given y/n what she deserves from the start. And that’s someone who can commit”

Minji didn’t fight back. She could barely breathe under the weight of Yujin’s anger, the guilt and shame suffocating her. “I know, Yujin,” she managed to choke out. “I know I hurt her, but I love her. Please, I just need to talk to her.”

Yujin’s grip tightened, her eyes blazing with fury. “You don’t deserve to even look at her.”

Inside the apartment, you heard the commotion and rushed to the door, flinging it open just in time to see Yujin pull back for another punch. “Yujin, stop!” you shouted, stepping between them.

Yujin froze, her fist still clenched as she looked at you, her anger slowly giving way to concern. “Y/N…”

You turned to Minji, who was slumped against the wall, her face bruised and eyes filled with tears. “What are you doing here, Minji?” you asked, your voice strained with emotion.

Minji looked at you with desperation. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I ended things with all of them. I can’t lose you. I’ll do anything, just please… give me a chance to make this right.”

You didn’t respond at first, the anger and hurt swirling inside you. But you also saw something in Minji’s eyes that you hadn’t seen before—fear, regret, and a deep, overwhelming sorrow.

“Yujin, let her go,” you said quietly, placing a hand on Yujin’s arm.

Yujin hesitated, her gaze shifting between you and Minji before she finally released her grip, stepping back. “You don’t owe her anything, Y/N,” Yujin said softly, her voice still laced with anger.

“I know,” you replied, turning to face Minji again. “But I need to hear what she has to say.”

Yujin looked at you for a moment, her jaw clenched, before nodding. “I’ll give you two some privacy,” she muttered, shooting one last glare at Minji before walking back into the apartment, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Minji took a deep breath, trying to steady herself, though her eyes remained fixed on you with an unsettling intensity. "Y/N… I know what I did was wrong. Unforgivable, even. But I need you to understand that I ended things with all of them. I can’t lose you, and I won’t."

You crossed your arms, trying to keep your emotions in check. "And what? You think saying you're sorry will just erase everything? That I'll forget how much you hurt me?"

Minji’s lips curled into a faint smile, almost as if she found your resistance amusing. "No, of course not. I don’t expect you to forget. But we both know you can’t walk away from this, from us. You need me as much as I need you."

A chill ran down your spine at her words, the way she so casually dismissed your pain. "Why should I believe you this time?"

"Because I’m not giving you a choice," Minji replied, her voice dropping to a whisper that was both tender and chilling. "You belong with me, Y/N. You know it, I know it. No one else can have you, and I’ll make sure of that. If I have to prove it every single day, I will."

Her words felt more like a threat than a promise, but the desperation in her eyes was real. The love you had for Minji was still there, tangled with fear and uncertainty. It would take time—time to see if she was truly sincere or if this was just another one of her games.

"Alright, Minji," you finally said, your voice soft but firm, trying to maintain control. "One chance. But this is it. No more lies, no more manipulation. If you hurt me again, I'm done."

Minji’s smile widened, a glint of triumph in her eyes. "You won’t regret this, Y/N. I’ll make sure you never have a reason to leave again."

As Minji pulled you into a tight, almost possessive embrace, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were stepping into dangerous territory. But a part of you was drawn to the intensity, the passion in her words. Maybe, just maybe, this time she really meant it—but you couldn’t ignore the nagging suspicion that Minji would never let you go, no matter what it took.

Minji’s lips brushed against your ear as she whispered, “You’re mine, Y/N… and I always take care of what’s mine.”

[earthtooz]

an accidental diluc fic in which you seek refuge at dawn winery in the midst of a storm. pining ensues. 1k words.

the fireplace crackles, a pen scrawls hurriedly on paper, and the rain that hits the windows of dawn winery is slowly beginning to ease, the oppressive downpour turning into something gentle and calming. you glance out the windows, unfocusing your eyes and mind from the novel in your hands to observe the slowing raindrops.

your pot of tea is empty now, your hair and clothes have dried completely now after being near a fireplace for so long, and your limbs are beginning to ache from how long you’ve been sitting around. perhaps it’s time to return home now. 

diluc, from where he works in front of you, doesn’t notice you, hands too tightly wound in his red locks to look anywhere but at his paperwork. he is so concentrated that you feel bad distracting him from his duties, but with the easing of the rain, you’d rather leave now in case the downpour starts again.

oh, but thinking of the trip back home is already an unappealing thought. it is so warm inside diluc’s abode with the fireplace a few feet away from you, his furniture is so comfortable, and you’d hate having to trek through mud and hills, sullying your shoes and attire. 

however, you would hate to disturb the ragnvindr estate more than you already have with your sudden appearance, frantic to find shelter from the downpour. it just so happened you were near dawn winery at the time of the storm, and when the redhead caught sight of you amidst the onslaught of rain, he hurried you inside with no room for argument. 

it wasn’t that the two of you were unfamiliar. you’ve known him properly for two years now, and you admit that during those years, you’ve developed quite the affectionate spot for the young winery owner. sometimes, you think he feels the same for you, but diluc ragnivdr is diluc ragnvidr, as close as you may be, you are reminded of how unreachable he is for someone like you. so although he is the one that ushered you into his home, offering you a warm place to seek refuge in the meantime, you are the one that feels most guilty taking up space in his home. 

in hopes of subtly catching diluc’s attention, you stand, careful to not let the cushions move an inch as you pat down your clothes.

despite your rustling, the red-haired still has not moved, staring at the paperwork before him as if they were the greatest heathen of his life. one of the maids notice you instead, quickly scrambling to your aid and asking whether or not something was disturbing you.

“no, no, nothing of that sort,” you reassure, unsure of how to act with someone so frantically attending do your wants. “i was merely preparing to leave soon since the rain has eased.” 

the scraping of chair against wooden floorboards fill the room and heavy footsteps follow. “leaving? at this time of day?” diluc asks, presence suddenly larger than life and occupying the whole room. you feel small in front of him, overtaken by a courteous guilt. 

the maid has left. 

“yes, at this time of day,” you confirm. “is that so wrong?” 

“it’s dusk, y/n. the monsters will be out and it’ll be unsafe outside by the time you leave.”

“i can handle myself,” you vaguely gesture to the vision and sword that hangs from your hips. still, his expression does not change. “besides, i’ve been in your hair long enough, thank you for your hospitality, but i mustn’t bother you anymore.” 

“you do not need to be so formal with me. while you are under my roof, it would be in my best interest to take care of you,” he crosses his arms over his chest, looking away from your eyes. “your company could never be a burden, either.”

you cannot help but smile at his shy confession, stepping yourself back in his gaze so he can see that warm grin of yours that he’s come to adore- not that he’d ever admit that to you. “oh?” you quip. “why, i’m flattered that you deem me worthy to keep around, master diluc, but i ought to get going now.”

“it’s still cold outside, your attire is far too little for this weather.”

“a little bit of cold never hurt me.”

“you’ll get sick.”

“i’ll refuse.”

“you’ll… refuse?” he snorts.

“i will!” you declare brazenly.

“you are not leaving the manor when it’s cold and dark outside.”

you ignore the fluttering of your heart at the obvious care he is showcasing. “i feel awful taking up space in your home, diluc.”

“my decision is final, you shouldn’t risk your safety because of silly assumptions believing that you’re ‘bothering’ me.”  

as if sensing leftover threads of hesitance in your resolve, he adds, “adelinde was looking forward to having you here tonight as well. if you want to leave at some point, can’t you let it be after dinner? i’d hate to disappoint adelinde by telling her of your departure.”

as if the universe had timed it, it was after his sentence that you began to smell an aromatic scent wafting into the room, one so delicious that it was getting harder for you to resist diluc’s invitations. 

“you’re just guilt-tripping me now!” you accuse, a glimmer of amusement settling in his red eyes.

“and you are stalling. stay for dinner at least, i’ll feel better knowing that you leave with a full stomach.”

“what are you two bickering about?” comes a third voice- adelinde, who peeks around the doorway with an affectionate smile. at her appearance, you straighten your spine and crowd away from the young winery owner.

“nothing,” diluc explains, “apologies if we were too loud.”

“please, save your conversations for dinner. the plates are ready if you wish to eat, master diluc.” 

“thank you, adelinde.” the redhead turns to you. “so, what will it be?” 

home could wait, you decide. “it’d be impolite of me to decline. i’ll stay.” 

he smiles in satisfaction at your surrender, seeming proud of himself for getting you to stay a little longer. you can’t see it, but the head maid can very clearly identify the warm bits of affection settling in the young master’s eyes, rolling off him in waves as you declare that you’ll return his hospitality next time. 

(you stay the night because shortly after dinner, the rain returned. this time, with thunder and lightning.)

© EARTHTOOZ 2023, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Can we have a drabble with gaz pinning on K9 handler reader and her giant dog just being like 👁👄👁 everytime

—Him, Her, and the Dog

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [The woes of pining after a woman whose deadly K9 looks like it hates his guts.] ❞

“He doesn’t bite,” you ease out with a smile to the thin-lipped Sergeant from One-Four-One.

“Well, you say that now, Sweetheart,” the man eases out, hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. “But he’s watchin’ me like I’m a damn piece of meat.”

“It’s just his face, Sergeant Garrick,” your chuckle wafts over the tarmac, tilting your head as the leash lays lax in your hand. Connected to it, the seek and muscled body of Teddy, your MWD, stays still. His black and tan hide shines in the light, hiding deadly muscle underneath. “He’s really not that bad.” 

“Then why isn’t he bloody blinking?” 

The Belgian Malinois is sitting, tail loose behind him and his tongue lolling—but the man was right, his deep chestnut eyes were utterly unblinking on the tall form of Kyle Garrick. It wasn’t surprising to you—Teddy had that quirk; he watched people. You couldn’t count how many times you’d woken up at night to find him in his kennel staring you down for no other reason than he wanted to.

You smile at the Sergeant as he frowns.

“Would you just come over here?” Garrick raises a brow slowly, arms crossing over his chest. “You said you had to talk to me, remember.”

“Didn’t know we’d have an audience.” The grumble meets your ears.

“Teddy goes where I go,” you remind him, rolling your eyes and taking the incentive to step forward—the animal immediately stuck at your hip and turning his attention up to you as he mirrors your pace. 

Gaz sighs, pushing down his slight nerves as you both get closer. 

There was no question as to whether he had a little crush on you, a prominent K9 handler; everyone could see the way he watched your form, and eyes don’t lie. He’d tried to ask you out before—a few times—but there had always been your…shadow. 

Teddy, short for Teddy Bear. 

The dog. 

The black and tan missile that could rip throats and was always watching Kyle like he’d personally murdered his bloodline. It was safe to say any propositions of dating had dried on his tongue when the canine locked his unblinking gaze with his. 

“There,” you ease out, stopping a few feet away. “That better?”

Gaz chuckles quietly, not looking down at Teddy as the dog’s backside once more hits the ground. “Do you want my honest answer, Ma’am?” 

“Will it hurt my feelings?”

“Well, not yours—his,” the Brit quirks a smirk, “maybe.” 

You snort and set one of your arms on your hip, the other going to pet Teddy in between his ears. The beast pants and licks at his muzzle, eyes darting up to you before slowly moving back to the Sergeant. 

“I think you should pet him, Gaz,” your voice brings him back to the conversation, his eyelids blinking at you. 

“Ah,” he laughs, shaking his head, “Negative. I’m fond of my hands.”

“And I’m fond of company when I bring Teddy on walks.” Your sly flirting makes Kyle’s jaw slacken for a moment, eyes slightly widening. “Pet him, and I’ll show you my favorite trail.” 

It’s a minute before the man is able to slot his jaw back in place, clearing his throat firmly before his face heats under the skin. 

“...That was smooth, Ma’am.” You smirk. 

“I was waiting for you to ask, but I guess you needed me to throw you a bone.” Gaz chuckles lowly at the joke, glancing down at Teddy as he itches at his cheek. 

“Alright, yeah, yeah, I know.” He bends down to rest on the balls of his feet. “Didn’t think you’d noticed that if I’m bein’ honest.” 

“I’m not blind, Garrick.” Teddy stares him down and you click your tongue, Kyle holding out a hand for him to smell. “Nor stupid.”

A wet nose moves out and sniffs, the puffs felt over his skin. Brown eyes glance at you.

“That obvious?” 

You smile teasingly. “Incredibly, Sergeant.”

“Shit.” Your laugh meets his ears and his embarrassment overshadows how Teddy shoves his narrow head under Kyle’s hand, panting happily with a wagging tail.

[janaelalfysloml]

“You cut your hair but you used to live a blonded life.”

Nika Muhl x Reader

A/N: this is my first post in a couple of months bare with me 🙏🏼

Warnings: angst (if u even call it that) , language, mentions of suicidal thoughts , mentions of suicide , not proofread

You and Nika used to be inseparable. You guys met back in second grade when you had first moved to Croatia and she came up to you first. As time progressed, you guys both got into basketball and, before you both knew it you guys had full scholarships to UConn to play basketball. Unfortunately, during the midst of that, you guys both started slowly drifting apart and you broke down each night wondering why.

Junior Year of College

“Happy Birthday Niks, hope we can talk more in the future. Hope you have the best day, wish you nothing but the best.” your read the text over and over again before you sent it. Although you guys play basketball together, you had suffered a season-ending injury during the first game of the season.

“I just wish we could talk more, you know?” You told Paige as you looked down. You had felt bad, you spent most of your time wondering why Nika changed. Was it you? Was it something you had done or said? Those were the questions that kept you up at night. “I’ll talk to her for you. I’m sorry you are going through this.” Paige said as she pulled out her phone to text Nika.

That night, you stayed up thinking about all the times Nika made you feel bad and how she still was.

#1 - You and Nika went to a house party, and Nika left you out the entire time. Barely talking to you, and at the end of the night didn’t tell you that she was leaving ultimately leaving you to have to call an Uber.

#2 - Nika liking photos , tweets and videos mocking your ACL tear , even reposting one onto her public story. Fans were quick to assume there was something going on between you two, but you were nothing but positive to her. You didn’t even know yourself what was going on.

#3 - Nika drunk texting you after you spoke on what happened, calling you a bitch and a attention-seeking whore. You knew she probably didn’t mean it but it still hurt you. Drunk sayings are usually sober thoughts.

#4 - Nika liking comments under your post talking bad about you. You tried reaching out to her multiple times with the result of, no answer.

#5 - You posted Nika every year for her birthday but in the 14 years you had known each other, she never once had posted you. You wondered what you did to her and didn’t know why she was doing this.

#6 - In the course of a year, all the things that Nika did took a toll on your mental health. You experienced suicidal thoughts and never opened up to anyone about it. Ultimately leading up to you trying to take your life, but getting talked out of it by Paige and Azzi.

Senior Year of College

You and Nika were back on talking terms, becoming inseparable once again. The thoughts never left your head about what Nika had made you experience. You decided to open up to Nika about everything. “Hey niks, can we talk?” You said leaning in the doorway of her room in your shared dorm. “Yeah what’s up?” she says look down at her phone. You then went on to tell her everything, you felt yourself tear up a little while telling her. “i’m so sorry.” Nika said as she consoled you while you cried. She didn’t realize what she had done but she was willing to overcome it.

A/N: this is lowk rly bad im so sorry it’s 2:55 AM rn and I can’t sleep 😓🙏🏼. also please like if u enjoyed it 💔

[moody-alcoholic]

Scapegoat

AN: I hit 200 followers which actually blows my mind the people like my work so I'm uploading 2 chapters as a thank you <3. ALSO there is more smut to come the next few chapters is a lot of angst and hurt/comfort, a lot of bad people doing bad things... The next 2-3ish chapters are the ones I'm worried about posting the most since things take a sharp turn downhill. I will say though, this story does have a happy ending, just got to get through some hurt first.

Summary: Ghoap x Reader, throuple. Slow burn (sorry but not sorry). 2.7k words. Reader is female (she/her), army nurse, non descript physical features, names used: Ashe. CW: Medical stuff, medical inaccuracy, descriptions of CPR, CPR.

Previous parts - masterlist - next part

Enjoy <3

You’re on the ward today, it’s almost empty most of the people who were here yesterday seeking treatment have been discharged. 

“Quiet?” You look up to see the doctor reaching down for a medical file on the desk you’re sat at.

“Don’t say that word, you’ll curse us.” You protest reaching over to hand him the file. 

“Don’t be silly that’s just a myth, the only reason you think it get’s busier is because you’re paying more attention to the passage of time.” He says opening the file, then signing something in it. 

“Well if that’s the case I will go for my break, and I’m sure it won’t get busy.” You get up taking the file from him and putting it back in it’s spot. 

“You have your pager?” You show him the device on your hip as you walk out the ward to the canteen. You’re still actively trying to avoid Jack and thankfully since the little incident yesterday you have not seen him. Guess running this place is keeping him busy. You shove some food down your throat, you’re not really hungry but you haven’t eaten anything all day and the last thing you want is to be passing out in this heat.

You take your time almost on purpose you check your phone. Nothing, other then the one attempted call you let ring out. You had been becoming more and more paranoid since the ‘chat’ with Jack and you don’t know why. You just hope Johnny and Simon are okay, you knew they would be they’re soldiers, SAS soldiers they are more then capable of taking care of themselves. You leave the canteen when it starts getting busier heading back to the ward. 

“See, not a single person.” The doctor says sitting in the same chair you were in. 

“Well I stand corrected.” You say throwing your hands up. He chuckles getting up to let you sit down. You walk round the desk as he wobbles. You put your hands out to steady him.

“You feeling okay?” You ask as he braces himself on the desk. 

“Yeah just tired, I think I need a lie down.” He says standing up straight, he looks clammy. 

“Why don’t you lie down in the ward, it’s cool in there and you won’t have to go far.” You say, you manged to feel his forehead he’s not warm but he does seem a bit out of it. 

“Okay,” He says walking into the ward, you help him in the bed and grab him a glass of water. 

“Ring the bell if you need anything, I’ll come check on you in an hour or so.” You say pulling the curtain round. That was weird, you head back to the desk when the phone rings. 

“Medical.” You say picking the phone up. 

“Hey we’ve got a guy here who might have broke his ankle can you get to the supply depot intake?” A voice on the other end says.

“Yeah I’m on my way.” You reply hanging up and typing in another number. 

“Hey, I need to go deal with a suspected broken ankle can you come watch the bay?” you say to which ever nurse just picked up. She’s says she’s on her way and you wait, when she arrives you see it’s the same nurse who unknowingly saved you from Jack yesterday. 

“The doctor wasn’t feeling well he went to lie down in the ward.” You say as you grab the med bag off it’s hook. 

“Is he okay?” She asks. 

“Yeah just the heat I think, check on him in like 20 minutes if I’m not back.” She nods and you head out to the supply intake. Even though the base is small the supply depots are massive, filled to the brim with all sorts of supplies you make your way down seeing soldiers circled round someone on the floor. 

“See this is why you have to look where you’re going.” Someone says as you push your way through. 

“See we’ve even got the cute nurse for you.” Another says, you roll your eyes.

“Alright settle down, get back to work.” You look up and see an officer standing above you, he explains what happened, he fell off the loading dock landed on his ankle. It didn’t look too swollen from what you could tell. 

“You can sit with it elevated and I’ll give you an ice pack. If the swelling doesn't go down you might need to go to Damascus for an x-ray.” You say handing him a cool pack from the bag. He nods and you help him on his feet to a chair.

“Want any pain relief?” You ask, he shakes his head, the officer says he’ll keep and eye on him and thanks you for your help. You nod deciding for whatever reason to take the long way back to the ward. You’re enjoying the walk in the sun, it takes your mind off of missing Johnny and Simon, you’re in a world of your own remembering the last few days together how nice it was that you almost miss the beeping of your pager. 911, medbay. You rush inside heading straight in dumping the bag at the nurses station as you see the nurse doing CPR on the doctor in bed. 

“What happened!” You ask rushing over and pulling gloves on. 

“I don’t know I went to check on him and he wasn’t breathing.” She says between breaths.

“Let me take over.” You say switching with her so she can get a break. You hear more medical staff run in the room, the alarm would have gone out to all medical staff. And Jack.  One of the nurses comes over to try and get a IV in and a medic takes over control of the situation. 

“Okay once we’ve got a line in lets push epi right away, someone get him on a monitor when was the last pulse check?” He asks. The nurse replies and he orders you to stop CPR so we can check. No pulse. You switch with someone else doing CPR as you stand to the side waiting until you will take over for them. What happened? He seemed fine? Is it an underling condition? Heart attacks don’t just happen. All of a sudden you feel guilty, he has a kid and wife at home. We’re doing everything we can. You remind yourself. There’s a shock, a pulse check, no change. You take over CPR letting the other person rest. It’s not looking good you look over at the medic, he looks lost, the only doctor on the base is down. Another round of adrenaline, another shock another rhythm check. Nothing, asystole, we all look at the medic. There is nothing we can do, he asks if we all think we should stop. There are some murmurs, some nods, the medic looks round one more time and sighs.  

“I can’t call it we need a doctor.” He says. You step back.

“I’ll call it in.” You say leaving the room going over to the nurses station. You slump down in the chair looking at the phone. The nurses in the room have started leaving, it’s only the medic and the nurse from earlier now. You pick up the phone opening a book and finding the number for the main Damascus base. The doors to the med bay open as the call rings through. You hold your breath as Jack walks in he goes into the ward talking to the medic. When someone picks up on the other end of the phone you explain the situation, it’s like your body is running on auto-pilot. 

“They’ll be someone over within the next 2 hours to processes the body.” They say. You don’t even say thank you you don’t even remember saying goodbye. You just remember putting the phone down looking over at the doctors body on the bed. Michael, his name was Michael, he has a 3 year old son called Harry, after Price Harry. A wife called Alice, who loves to paint. Now he was dead. 

“I can take watch if you want to get some rest.” You hear a voice beside you. It’s the nurse, you don’t even know her name.

“Call me when they get here, they said they would be here within the next 2 hours.” She nods and you head to the dorms. They’re empty you flop down on your bed. You remember seeing Jacks eyes follow you as you left the ward. You close your eyes, trying not to cry. You can’t help but think about his wife, a widow now. His son will grow up without a dad. You feel guilty, you roll over closing your eyes.   ——————————  You wake to your pager beeping you back to the ward. You look round the room it’s still empty, it’s only been half an hour if that. They can’t be here already, the drive from Damascus takes at least an hour. You get up anyway heading to the ward. When you walk in you almost pass out. There is Johnny, Simon, Price and a man you’ve never met before who must be Gaz. You look over into the ward, his body has been zipped up in a body bag and the curtains almost all the way drawn, you swallow hard getting rid of the lump in your throat. 

“Well I’ll tell ye what lass, give us her bunk and we’ll find her ourselves.” You hear Johnny say as he’s bent over the counter of the nurses station. You walk up to the desk not quite believing it.

“There she is!” Johnny shouts as he sees you. 

“You’re not here for the body are you?” You ask them.

“The body?” Price asks. You press your lips together, your eyes wonder to Simon, although you can’t see his face under his mask. His eyes still look soft though, kind. Johnny is looking at you with that cheeky grin on his face. You just want to jump in his arms, you want to just blurt everything out, you just want to feel them holding you again.

“The Major is on his way.” The nurse says.

“Of course he is.” You sigh as she gets up and you take her seat. She waves goodbye and tells you she’ll see you later. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask quietly. 

“We were invited.” Johnny says. You look confused but you don’t have time to question it as Jack walks through the double doors. 

“Good to see you again captain.” Jack says extending his hand out so John could shake it. You felt sick sitting up straighter in your chair as Jack makes friendly with everyone. 

“Come through to my office, we have a lot to discuss.” He says gesturing them to the exit.

“You’ll let me know when the doctor from Damascus gets here?” Jack says looking over at you. 

“Course sir.” You reply, he smiles back at you it makes you feel sick. What the hell did he want? What was the play here? Yesterday he was threatening you to get information from them now they’re here. A part of you hoped they were here for you. Hoped the cryptic message you sent to Johnny was enough to get alarm bells ringing. You shook the thought away, they weren't here for you, besides Jack hasn’t done anything since, maybe he was just having a bad day. Right now all you needed to focus on was Michael, and getting his body secure so he can go home.

You spend the next few hours doing nothing at all, no calls, no one comes in for help. They come for the body about half an hour after 141 arrived, you call Jack but he doesn't come. They take a statement from you and then he’s gone. Your shift is supposed to be over soon, you flick through a random medical journal as you wait for your replacement. It’s the medic from earlier. 

“They took the body then?” He asks as you get up. You nod. 

“Did he have a family.” 

“A wife and kid.” You say. 

“That sucks.” He replies. You nod again heading for the door. You’re not hungry you just want to sleep get away from today.

“Hey!” The medic shouts back just as you’re about to go through the doors. You crane your head back to look at him.

“The major want’s you in his office.” You feel sick but nod at him. You feel like you can smell the death in the air, no it’s just your imagination. There is no such thing as the smell of death, just the smell of decomposing bodies. You make it to Jacks office and knock on the door.

“Come in.” You open the door and walk in.  

“Sit.” Jack says. 

“I would prefer to stand sir.” You say. He sighs. There is another knock at the door. 

“Come in!” Jack shouts, two soldiers walk in you look at them then back to Jack confused. 

“So we got the results back from the autopsy.” You look at him shocked.

“That was quick.” You say. He nods.

“It was rushed through given the circumstances of the situation.” He says, you can’t help but feel like you’re about to get told off again, like you’re a kid in the headmasters office. 

“Turns out the doctor had lethal amounts of insulin in his system.” Jack says, you look at him confused and scoff.

“He wasn’t diabetic.” You say. Jack nods, he spins the computer monitor around so you can see. 

“This is your ID card withdrawing a very large amount of insulin,” he says standing up his hands flat on the desk table. 

“I didn’t do that, it must be a mistake.” You scoff. He looks serious.

“I’m sorry what are you accusing me of?” You ask suddenly nervous. 

“Look I can make this easy for you, just confess to what you did and we can skip the court-marshal, you’ll be back on a flight to the UK tonight.” Jack says, you look around at the two soldiers behind you who you can almost feel pressing up against you.

“You’re crazy.” You laugh. He sighs hanging his head, for a second you think you see genuine sympathy. 

“I tried to give you a chance.” He says shrugging then he gestures to the soldiers behind you who grab your arms. You hear the clicking of cuffs before you can react. What were you going to do anyway? They’re way bigger then you, stronger. 

“What is going on!” You shout, almost not believing what is happening. Your mind turns to Simon and Johnny were they still here? You were going to look for them when your shift had finished, now you’re in cuffs being accused of murder. Jack comes round the desk to look you in your eyes, he leans in to whisper in your ear, you pull your head back as far as it will go.

“I told you I could make your life very difficult.” You feel his breath on your neck you feel sick, you can’t believe what is happening. 

“Take her to the cells, as of right now she’s to be treated as an enemy of the state.” 

“What the actual fuck! Asshole!” Is all you manage to shout as you’re dragged through the doors. You don’t know what to say, what to do. Johnny and Simon can’t help you. Maybe this was his plan all along? You get to the tiny detention wing of the base. You don’t think this has ever been used, the whole place seems to be covered in a layer of sand and dust, and it’s hot.

You’re pressed up against a wall and patted down, your phone, pager, radio, everything is taken off you. You’re stripped down to your shirt and pants, they take your boot’s and belt. You look at them in the eyes your two guards, you don’t recognise them maybe they came from Damascus. They don’t say anything, they won’t meet your eye line. You're still too shocked to say anything, to confused to attempt to fight. They take the cuffs off and you’re thrown into a room the door bolted behind you. You look over at the padded bed, the florescent lights and the cold concrete walls. You pull your legs up to your chest burring your head in your knees. What the hell just happened. 

Next part

[anystalker707]

Just that, nothing more

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gn, afab] Reader Kinktober prompt: Cockwarming Tags: Whiny Ace / He also wants a lot of attention / Transmasc friendly

KINKTOBER LIST MASTERLIST

          You were sitting in your cabin, sighing, while looking at all the papers of the marine that you’d managed to get your hands on—they had some clues that could be very useful for the crew. There were areas where you could expand Whitebeard’s influence and places that could be useful for hiding or getting new stuff, like armament. 

It needed a significant part of your attention and many notes to be written, but it wasn’t necessarily boring; you were thankful the day wasn’t that eventful so that you could give it your full attention. Maybe Pops would be proud of you when he saw your notes.

The door to your cabin opened, and someone walked in, closing the door behind them. Judging by the casualty, it could be no one other than Ace—he threw himself on your bed and sighed. He sighed again and shifted on the bed, and it repeated itself a few times. Ah, fuck. So he was in that mood. It also made you sigh, predicting what would go on as you kept working, trying to keep your attention on your work for as long as you could.

“(Y/n),” Ace said in a dragged groan; you glanced back, seeing he had his face buried into one of your pillows.

“What?” You hummed without much interest; Ace just said your name again, whiny. Okay, there was no way around it. “Come here,” you muttered.

Ace grinned as he walked over to you. He moved to get on your lap, but you raised a hand for him to pause before you stood up and let him sit on the armchair instead. It’d be better to be on his lap rather than have him on yours, given how unquiet he was. He’d bother you less, that way, though you hardly ever found his presence to be annoying; you wouldn’t admit it, though, not when it could encourage Ace to cling to you even more.

A soft hum came from Ace as he pressed his face to your shoulder and wrapped his arms around your waist. All you can do now is hope that he won’t distract you a lot.

“What are you doing?” Ace muttered, looking over your shoulder. He didn’t really understand what you were doing. Well, he didn’t even put effort into it.

“Just resuming some stuff about the marine,” you muttered, sounding distant while scribbling on that notebook. It had some crossed words and arrows pointing to notes on the corner of the pages.

Ace hummed softly, pretending to understand it. He sighed, looking around the room for a moment. Why was it so boring? He kissed your shoulder, seeking some attention from you. An uninterested hum of acknowledgment wasn’t what he looked for, so he groaned and kissed the side of your neck instead, trying to see if that’d do any good. He still didn’t get any attention, so he tried nipping on your neck, tugging on the skin with your teeth until you paused and glared at him. Ace pouted.

You turned back to the papers. Ace didn’t bite on your neck anymore, thankfully, but he started shifting you an awful lot instead; it wasn’t the best thing, but it wasn’t as bad as when he was nibbling and kissing you like that. It seemed innocent, of course, but you should’ve known better.

“(Y/n),” Ace whined as he kissed your shoulder. His boner was pressed to your ass, grinding against it as he let out another groan.

“Ace, I’m busy now!” You sighed, though you couldn’t ignore the sparkle of pleasure that sparkled up your spine. Ace grumbled something that was muffled against the back of your shoulder as he ground his hips against yours again.

“Please, just a little something,” Ace mumbled as he kept grinding against you, in a way you had to stop writing. “Please, just let me in,” he whispered, reaching a hand between your thighs. “Just let me inside you, I won’t do anything more, just let me be inside you. I need to be inside you, pretty please, it feels so good, please…”

Saying you had a weak spot for Ace was a great understatement; you wished he wouldn’t learn the fact you’d probably do whatever he asked if he did it properly. You took a deep breath, trying to cool down yourself a little bit.

“Yeah, okay,” you whispered. “Just that.”

Nothing could go wrong, right?

You shifted a little so that you could unbutton your pants and push them down with your underwear—as well as give Ace space to do the same. Slowly, you returned to his lap, groaning softly as his cock slipped between your folds, collecting your wetness and mixing it with his pre-cum, before finally pushing inside you. It had your breath catching in your throat a couple of times as you let your weight down on him, finding a comfortable position on his lap.

It was good. Ace stretched you fine, pressing to some nice spots inside you, but it wasn’t something you couldn’t handle. You took a deep breath to clear your mind, hoping you could go back to your work. Keyword: hoping.

The first few minutes were actually okay. Ace just slumped on the armchair, with his arms lazily wrapped around your waist. However, he occasionally throbbed, twitched inside you. It happened once, twice, and a quiet groan escaped Ace’s lips. Of course, he couldn’t sit still or keep his mind clean, even more so when he was deep inside you and with nothing to do.

“(Y/—”

“No,” you said immediately, continuing to write. You couldn’t be distracted now, right when you managed to focus—at least as much as possible at the moment. Ace whined in defeat, shifting his hips a little. “Don’t move, Ace,” you patted his forearm a little. “You said you just wanted to be inside, yeah? That’s all you get. Now behave.”

Ace complained under his breath as you went back to writing, making notes in your notebook. As much as you also enjoyed it a lot, your self-control was better than Ace’s; it wasn’t that hard having more self-control than Ace, in all honesty. You wanted to ride him, feel him hit repeatedly that spot inside you that sent sparkles down your spine, making you curl your toes, but you also wanted it to last. If you just gave in and rode him already, the fun just wouldn’t be the same. It was a nice contrast, compared to the frantic fucking that happened often.

The thoughts crossed your mind, making you unconsciously clench around Ace—he let out a soft whimper in response, which you pretended not to notice while keeping your attention on the papers.

You’d barely ever had Ace’s cock still inside you like that, instead of pushing into you at a fast pace. It felt nice, almost making it impossible not to clench around him, seeking more pleasure just from the fact of having him stretching you so nicely, reaching in deep.

Okay, okay, focus. You were getting distracted again. You could do that, it was almost over, anyway.

“Fuck,” Ace breathed as he adjusted his arms around your waist. He tensed up, clearly struggling to keep his hips still. His breath caught in his throat, cock twitching inside you, and he held the air for a moment before slowly relaxing under you, trying to exhale slowly.

The temptation was great.

Ace shifted a little bit, and it wasn’t clear whether he was angled perfectly or the constant tension had you very sensitive, but it immediately snatched a moan from your lips.

“Baby…” Ace tried, letting one of his hands rest on your thigh.

“Let me finish, Ace,” you tried to sound as sharp as possible, but you had a pathetic breathy and shaky voice. “‘M almost there.”

Ace let out a whine, but he didn’t complain further, only letting his hand rest on your thigh. Through time, though, his hand started squeezing your thigh, letting his fingers sink into the skin; he eventually paused and massaged over the skin instead. “How much longer?” He mumbled. “God, you feel so good around me, so hot, so tight…”

“Shut up,” you muttered. Your throat felt dry, in a way it was difficult to swallow.

Ace shifted again, snatching another moan from you. That was impossible.

You sighed, putting your pen away and leaning back against Ace.

“Hey,” Ace gasped. “What are you— Fuck…” He moaned as he felt you roll your hips. He took hold of your hips, groaning as he rubbed circles into your skin, encouragingly.

It was a little difficult since there was no support to move your hips, but the armchair was thankfully wide enough so that you could pull your legs up on it, sitting in a sort of w position with your legs. Riding Ace was much better now, your hands tight around the chair’s armrests as you started moving your hips, relieving the need that had started building inside you this whole time.

“So good,” you breathed to Ace. His finger moved to dig into your waist, and whatever he mumbled between moans, it was too messy for you to understand. He lazily moved his hips up so that he could fuck you as well, watching his cock disappear deep inside you repeatedly. You were so wet, and he was leaking so much—there was a creamy white ring at the base of his cock, where both of you met. The squelching sounds were so fucking lewd, somehow turning Ace on even more, if possible.

Leaning back made Ace’s cock reach a new angle inside you; it had the arousal pooling in your lower stomach much faster, sending sparkles of pleasure up your spine. You reached a hand between your legs, collecting some of the wetness between your folds to play with your clit, rubbing the pads of your fingers against it in pace with his thrusts and your movements. Your eyes rolled back with pleasure. It wasn’t a fast fuck or a dynamic one. It was slow, messy, and sloppy, but still managed to make you feel so fucking good.

Your orgasm built in your lower stomach rather fast, but still felt so fucking good as it finally arrived, making your thighs quiver as you came all around Ace’s cock, clenching tight around him. Ace whimpered, muttering more slurred, incoherent words that you couldn’t make out through his pleased sounds. He also came, gulping as his hips stuttered to meet yours and fuck his cum inside you, while his grip tightened around your waist. It hurt, but also felt so good.

Ace’s moans got higher-pitched, breathy, because you just didn’t stop. You kept moving, riding him even after he came. He watched the mix of cum slip down his cock as it kept disappearing inside you. As much as he could feel the overstimulation threatening to kick in, he couldn’t bring you to stop. He didn’t want you to. He just melted more into the seat, gasping and moaning as he let you continue to fuck yourself with him.

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[seoltzuki]

Persona

jihyo x gn reader

fluff, very unserious, suggestive (kinda), not proofread

wannabe player jihyo

You know it’s not the smartest idea, but it feels like it’s the only option to shake things up.

Nayeon’s been urging you all evening, saying, "Just get on a dating app, y/n. It’s easier to find someone who wants to hook up on there. And better yet, with no strings attached since you’re so allergic to falling in love and settling down."

You huffed and rolled your eyes. No need for her to be so… brutally honest. And so caved in. You downloaded the app and started scrolling through it. You swiped on pretty faces, ignoring those seeking long-term relationships, until one profile grabbed your attention.

Despite its douchy and fuckboy-ish vibe, you couldn’t help but be drawn to this person’s profile.

Jihyo.

Her photos showcased her with well-defined abs glistening under gym lights, another captured her in full hockey gear, while another showed her casually sporting a backward cap, adding a touch of laid-back douchiness.

Let’s not talk about her bio, which ew by the way… You cringed as you read it,

6’1 when I stand on my money.

ps: my couch pulls out, but I don’t when I’m strapped up👅💦

You gag at this but still swipe right. It’s clear she’s looking for the same casual fun as you are. And as expected, you both match, confirming your mutual interest in a no-strings-attached connection.

You begin texting Jihyo, and the conversations quickly become flirty, bordering on explicit. This back-and-forth continues for a week until Jihyo takes the initiative to set up a date to meet in person.

She suggests grabbing a quick bite at a fast food joint near her place. You find the idea crass and somewhat unappealing; after all, why bother with a lame meal when you could just head straight to her place for some action?

Nonetheless, you agree. Jihyo manages to sway you with another teasing message: “You’ll need energy if you wanna keep up with me, angel ;)”

The day arrives, and despite knowing it’s just a one-time thing, you find yourself oddly excited. You debate whether it’s worth dressing up for the occasion, knowing you’ll likely never see her again after tonight, but you make the effort anyway.

As you commute to the shitty fast food joint, a text from Jihyo pops up: “hey! I’m already here. I’m gonna be waiting for you at the bus stop, no rush :)”

You frown at first, but then a small smile creeps onto your face. It’s strange to receive such a normal and sweet text from her.

You feel a flutter in your stomach, but you quickly dismiss it. This is just a one-time thing, you remind yourself, as you gather your things to to hop off the bus.

Stepping onto the sidewalk, you glance around, expecting to spot Jihyo. However, she’s nowhere in sight until you hear your name being called. You look past the man who was hiding Jihyo, and as she steps forward, you realize she’s even shorter than you had imagined.

"I hope the ride here wasn’t too bad. Ready to eat?" She smiles wide, and you can't help but notice how much cuter she is in person than you had imagined.

You nod, following her into the restaurant. She walks with a pep in her step, and you can't help but admire how cute she looks in her baggy jeans, oversized shirt, and that damn backward hat. It's nothing like the pictures she had on her profile.

A cutie.

She orders and pays for both of you, and you can't help but slip out, "You must be really rich then."

She frowns, her lower lip popping out in a pout. "I mean-" she starts to explain, but you cut her off, "your bio. 6'1 when I stand on my money, remember?" You tease, then casually munch on your fries.

Her eyebrows arch in surprise, and a blush tinges her cheeks. "Gosh, I forgot about that. I’m sorry, it’s-"

"You’re cute."

Her blush deepens, and she adjusts her hat, offering you a shy smile.

As the conversation flows, you find yourself enjoying Jihyo’s company more than you expected. Her easygoing nature and genuine laughter put you at ease, and you start to forget about the initial awkwardness of the situation.

You notice her little quirks—the way she looks incredibly angry when she takes a delicious bite of her hamburger, that big smile that makes her eyes almost disappear, the way she gives you her full attention when you speak… It’s becoming increasingly difficult to ignore the flutter in your stomach.

She then offers you to come over for some dessert, and you can't say no. After all, this is what you originally came for anyway.

The walk to her place is short, and when you arrive, you brace yourself for the typical "fuckboy" house—a mess, dishes piled in the sink, and a less-than-ideal bathroom. However, when she welcomes you inside, you're taken aback. The place is pristine and beautifully decorated. You start to wonder if her dating profile was all just a facade.

You prepare yourself for the "dessert" as she instruct you to get comfortable. Taking a seat on the couch, you anticipate what's to come, but to your surprise, she returns with a tray to the coffee table in the center of the living room. The tray has an array of treats—brownies, cookies, and mochi—and hold up, are they homemade too!?

"I’ve made them for you! For tonight! Have a taste!" She says with pride, her smile wide and chest puffed out.

You take a cookie and bite into it, moaning at the delicious taste. It's so good that you kind of want to murder her for being such a good baker, but also for messing up your flow.

You guys should’ve been in bed by now.

She flops beside you, still smiling. “It’s so good,” you remark, savouring the last bite of the cookie.

“Yeah? I’m glad you like it, wasn’t sure what you were gonna be into,” she says, her eyes fixed on you.

As you meet her gaze, you sink further into the cozy couch. She removes her hat, allowing her curls to cascade, and you're taken aback by her beauty.

She runs her fingers through her hair before settling in, her arm draped over the back of the couch, hand supporting her chin. She continues to watch you, and you feel your cheeks flush under her gaze.

"I don’t think I’ve had the chance to tell you how beautiful you are, y/n," Jihyo says softly, her eyes scanning your face.

She bites the inside of her cheek and briefly lets her eyes drift down to take you all in. You smile shyly, noticing the subtle shift in her demeanor. Perhaps the "fuckboy" from her profile is finally making an appearance now.

Your hands sink into her sofa, and you hum, "This isn’t a pull out couch."

Jihyo’s eyes linger on yours, a teasing glint dancing in them.

"Never owned a pull out couch," she responds, her tone low and suggestive, "but I do have the strap."

You roll your eyes, but the shiver that runs down your spine betrays your true feelings. She smiles softly again, her gaze locked with yours as you edge closer to her.

"You're too crude, Jihyo. It’s not charming," you tease, allowing your fingers to trace a pattern along her arm, the tension between you growing.

"I may be crude, but hey, having a pretty person right beside me makes up for it, don't you think?" she whispers, edging closer. Her breath grazes your lips, igniting a surge of excitement within you.

And then, with a delicate touch, her lips meet yours in a tender, lingering kiss. The sensation is electric, your body melting into the moment as you get lost in the softness of her lips against yours.

A shared breath and she gives another kiss, deeper than the last. Her lips press against yours with a newfound urgency. You feel the softness of her touch as her hands slide to the back of your neck, gently pulling you closer.

A soft moan escapes your lips in response to the sensation, and she pulls back, breathless, her eyes locking with yours as the intensity of the moment hangs in the air.

“Y/n,” she starts, her voice gentle as she takes a deep breath to steady herself, “I know we’re both into the one-night stand thing, but I think I like you more than I should. And I know you should’ve been on your third orgasm by now, but for some reason, I can’t bring myself to sleep with you unless we go on, at least, two proper dates.”

You stare at her, surprised by her honesty. The air between you is charged with tension as you process her words. Despite the initial intentions of this encounter, you can’t deny the flutter of excitement in your chest at the thought of spending more time with her.

Taking a moment to collect your thoughts, you reach out and gently cup her cheek, brushing your thumb against her skin. “Jihyo,” you say softly, “I feel the same way. I’d like that.”

A smile spreads across her face, relief evident in her eyes. “Really?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Really,” you confirm, leaning in to place a tender kiss on her lips. It’s a promise of what’s to come—a beginning rather than an end.

A relieved sigh escapes her lips as she leans back against the couch, holding your hand tightly.

“Let’s watch TV and finish the sweets?” she proposes, her voice tinged with shyness.

You smile warmly at her, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “Sounds perfect,” you say, feeling a rush of affection for her. “But I need the backstory behind that insane dating profile of yours.”

Jihyo chuckles, a hint of embarrassment coloring her cheeks. “Oh, that,” she says, running a hand through her hair. “Well, you see, I had a phase where I was tired of all the boring conversations on dating apps. So, I decided to spice things up a bit and I may have gone a little overboard with the whole ‘fuckboy’ persona.”

You giggle, intrigued by her. “It definitely caught my attention,” you admit.

She smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, well, I may have exaggerated a bit,” she confesses. “But hey, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Definitely,” you agree, squeezing her hand affectionately. “But I’m glad to see the real you now.”

With a warm smile, Jihyo leans in closer, her eyes sparkling with sincerity. “Me too,” she whispers, before pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

"However, I do give the best strap. No one can beat me to that and I mean it when I say I don’t pull out and-"

"Ew, you’re crude Jihyo!" you exclaim, playfully scolding her with a mock grimace.

Jihyo lets out a hearty laugh, her eyes crinkling with amusement. "Hey, just keeping it real, sweetheart."

You may not be allergic to falling in love after all.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Let the Light In |1|

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Chapter One: Princess Tara

Summary: You and Tara Carpenter never got along much. One of the things she looked forward to when leaving Woodsboro was never having to see you again. But one day she unexpectedly bumps into you on her first day at Blackmore University

Warning(s): Swearing, underage drinking and mentions of intoxication, the loving part of their enemies to lovers story has definitely not started yet

Notes: This is gonna be fun

Masterlist|Next part

It was Tara’s first day and of course she was already running late for her first class. She had turned down the maps that were offered at the entrance… goodness did she regret that now.

About seven minutes left until the start of her class and she was ninety nine percent sure she was walking in a circle. She figured she would make one more attempt before asking for help. Just as she began to walk another lap, she bumped into somebody. She was about to apologize but cut herself off once she realized who she had bumped into.

“Sorr—oh it’s you,” her apologetic tone quickly turned sour. 

You rolled your eyes at this. “Lovely seeing you too,” you quipped.

Tara scoffed as she knelt down. “What are you even doing here?” she asked while picking up her belongings, you did the same, grabbing a couple of your pens that had fallen.

“Well, you know how I’ve always adored college campuses. I can’t get enough of’em,” you snarked, earning yourself a familiar unamused expression from Tara. 

Oh, you’ve missed that. 

You exhaled, giving her a look, before continuing, “What does it look like, princess? I’m attending college.”

Tara didn’t appreciate your matter-of-fact tone. She stood before roughly shoving one of your books to your chest. “We’ve been over this, don’t call me that.”

You’ve had the same nickname for Tara for years now. It pissed her off each time you used it, and each time you felt yourself grow with amusement. 

“I mean, what are you doing here—in New York?” 

“Decided I’d go to a college near my family. What’s it to you?”

Tara rolled her eyes. She sees your condescending tone is still very much present. Gosh, how she despised you. Just when she thinks she has gotten away from everything she left behind without looking back, you show up with your ceaseless snarkiness. 

“You know how much I’ve missed our back and forths, but I have no idea where I’m going and my class starts any minute now.”

You didn’t let the blatant sarcasm she started out with stop you from playing into the compliment. “You sure know how to make a girl blush.” 

Unfortunately, her attention wasn’t on you. Her eyes were wandering, almost frantically, as she tried to look for the door to her film class. You wondered why she didn’t just grab a map at the entrance. You wore a small smile and looked at the girl. 

“Lucky you, we’re headed in the same direction. My class isn't far from your destination,” you told her.

“Great. Perfect. Show me?” Tara impatiently asked, immediately filled with regret as she saw the smug smirk that played on your face. She wanted nothing more than to slap it right—

“—As you wish,” you winked at her and began to walk.

 Tara let out a small groan, a familiar feeling returned at your action. The same feeling she got when you pulled a prank on those cheerleaders who teased her or whenever you seeked her praise after pulling another one of your mischievous stunts on the town. It was bad enough you were making your problems her own, you didn’t need to give her a sickening feeling on top of it. She always excused that feeling as stress, stress you gave her. 

She always did wonder why you did what you did to those cheerleaders. She feels vain for even assuming she was a contributing factor, it’s probably just a coincidence. But then again, that smile you gave her after Chad told her what happened said otherwise. Right?

She never understood you. She didn’t understand you then, and she doesn’t understand you now. You were insufferable to no end. 

“We art h’re,” you said, snapping her from her thoughts. Tara noted another thing that hasn't changed; you were a major dork. Wait… did she only walk about three steps?

“Are you serious, it was right here?”

“You were never good at direction,” you remarked. 

“And you’re still as infuriating as ever.”

You shook your head, disappointment on your face. “That’s no way to thank somebody. Where've your manners gone?” You feigned a hurt look, placing your hand over your chest.

“Blah blah pthh,” she mocked you. Still mature as ever, you see. 

“Good one,” you said in a monotone voice. 

“Thank you,” she said with the same energy. “Now, I get you’re obsessed with me, but I have to get to class.” Without waiting for a response, she shoved passed you and entered the classroom. 

A downward smile played on your face as you watched Tara walk into her classroom. Once she was fully inside, you walked the long distance to your own classroom. As you made your way to your class, Tara sat down next to Mindy with a huff.

“Uh oh, I know that look. What’s up your ass this time?” Mindy asked while Tara settled in the seat beside her. 

“The same pain in my ass from high school,” Tara grumbled.

Mindy raised her eyebrows, immediately hit with recognition. She knew exactly who Tara was referring to. “Shit. Really? Never thought I’d get to see you two at it again. Never say never I guess,” she sighed as Tara groaned and put her head down. 

—

You opened the door to your shared apartment, throwing your bag on the floor and dramatically plopping down on the coach. You leaned your head back and closed your eyes as the door to your roommates room opened.

“Y/N, you up?” she asked.  You opened your eyes before sitting up and nodding at her. “Okay good, I need your opinion.” She held up two tops. “Which one should I go with?”

“Uh… left one for sure,” you answered, pointing to the left top. 

“Right?” she said in agreement. 

 She’s been talking to this girl for a bit now and tonight would be their second date. “So, when do I get to meet the girl that has my roommate so smitten?”

“And you embarrass me? Yeah, no. I’m gonna hold off on that.” 

You jokingly scoff at her comment. “Come on, Anika. I solemnly swear,” you said while saluting. 

Anika let out a small laugh, “I’ve never been more convinced,” she sarcastically replied. 

Later that night, you’re left alone in the apartment with nothing to do while Anika is out on her date. You try to pass the time by watching whatever sitcoms are on, before getting a message from one of your friends asking if you were free. 

Henry (8:32 pm) you free? I’m so fucking bored rn 😩

bestie (8:33 pm) what do you have in mind?

Henry (8:33 pm) heard about a frat party goin on tn

bestie (8:34 pm) idk, you know how I am with parties

Henry (8:34 pm) ohhh come onnn my little wallflower pleaseee

bestie (8:35 pm) I don’t feel like being around people rn

Henry (8:35 pm) you NEVER feel like being around people

Henry (8:35 pm) besides there’ll be that balless beer you like and you can stay in your little corner if you want

bestie (8:36 pm) Fine. 

Henry (8:36 pm) YAYY pick you up in fifteen?

bestie (8:37 pm) okay

Read at 8:37 pm

When the two of you arrived at the party, you immediately wanted to curl up into a ball. Henry stayed by your side for a while but then ventured off to do his own thing. You sat down on a couch, beer in hand, as your right leg bounced. 

A large part of you just wished this couch would swallow you whole.

Not far from where you sat, Chad and Ethan leaned against a wall as they talked. Chad told Ethan that this was the night, the night they would find the girl for Ethan. But after about an hour of looking and rejections, Ethan wasn’t feeling as great as he was when the night first started. Maybe he should just call it—oh cute girl. 

“Wait—what about her? She’s cute.” Ethan pointed towards a couch, a hopeful smile on his face. 

Chad looked in the direction to where he was pointing. His eyes widened at the sight of you sitting on the couch. “Holy crap.”

Ethan scrunched his eyebrows in confusion. “What is it? Is she taken or something?” 

“Uh, you know that girl that Tara was ranting about earlier?”

“Yeah. She was pissed, but what does that have—oh. Oh. That’s her?”

Chad nodded as he looked at you then back at the curly haired boy. “Oh boy,” was all he could say before sipping on the red solo cup in his hand.

As Chad gave Ethan a little more context on you and Tara, Henry walked over and sat down beside you. “What’s up?” he asked while lightly nudging the side of his knee with yours.

“I feel like eyes are on me, but I don’t know from where and it’s really starting to tick me off,” you told him before you took another sip of your beer. 

“Don’t worry. I’m sure you’re not being, like, stalked or something,” he said in his reassuring voice.

You nodded before you looked down your bottle to see you finished it. “I’m out. Come with me to get another?”

Henry hummed and you both got up, walking towards the table where all the drinks were. You really didn’t care for drinking, you found most of what was on the table disgusting. The table wreaked, you could practically feel your nose hairs burning off. You only ever drank this one brand of beer, ‘ball-less beer’ as Henry likes to say. It was low-alcohol and you were fine with that. You needed something to do at these parties you were dragged out to without making yourself look like an idiot. 

As Henry was talking to somebody else, you were beside him. When you went for the bottle not far from you, a familiar voice reached your ears. 

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.”

You turned your head in the direction of the voice before rolling your eyes.

“At this point you’re stalking me, you have to be,” Tara added with exasperation.

“Someone’s full of it. A friend dragged me here, Carpenter, not everything pertains to you,” you said with unapologetic sarcasm. 

“I’m supposed to believe you actually have a friend?” she questioned with an incredulous look.

“Now you know how I felt when I discovered there was more than one person that supposedly tolerates you,” you shot back, slightly tilting your head. “But the more you know, I guess.”

“All I’m hearing is that you can’t comprehend what it’s like to be tolerated,” she quipped, returning the condescending energy you spoke with. She lifted one of the bottles of Vodka, inspecting it, before tucking it under her arm. 

You noticed this and stayed silent. This caught you off guard for some reason. Maybe you never thought you would see the day when princess Tara would be going to frat parties and drinking. She hasn’t changed, yet has, all at once. 

Her comment was long forgotten as you got lost in your own train of thought. Tara walked away just as you returned with a tap on your shoulder. You looked and saw Henry. 

“You alright?” he asked you. The person he was just talking to had left.

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m good. I’m just gonna head back,” you said.

“Want me to join you?”

You shook your head. “Nah, it’s okay. You can go. You know where to find me.”

“Alright, but let me know when you wanna leave,” he said. He raised his fist and you reciprocated, bumping fists. He gave you one last nod before he left, already catching up with someone he knew. He was always the social butterfly. 

You sat back down on the couch, snapping off the cap to the beer bottle you grabbed and taking a sip. It was disgusting but, as established earlier, it was something to do. You took out your phone and scrolled through your notifications where you saw two messages from your older brother. You clicked on one of the messages.

Dickhead (9:01 pm) mom wants to know if you’re coming over for Lily’s birthday 

007 (9:43 pm) as far as I know

Dickhead (9:45 pm) took you long enough

007 (9:46 pm) relax, it was only 42 mins

Dickhead (9:46 pm) how do I know you didn’t get kidnapped in those 42 mins????

007 (9:47 pm) You’re so fucking dramatic

Dickhead (9:47 pm) am I? Or are you not dramatic enough?

Dickhead (9:48 pm) where even are you rn

007 (9:48 pm) Some stupid party, not that it's your business?

Dickhead (9:49 pm) whatever idc 

007 (9:49 pm) Seems like you do

Dickhead (9:50 pm) I should block you

You were about to send the reply you typed up but a loud thud against a nearby wall stopped you. You looked up and saw an extremely drunk looking Tara being held up by Chad. You recalled him as one of her friends from Woodsboro. 

“Alright, I think it’s time to go home,” he told the intoxicated girl.

She shook her head in defiance. “No, ‘m fine,” she slurred, still struggling to stand on her own.

“Yo, Ethan!” Chad called over a curly haired boy, Tara winced at his volume. The other boy nodded, and seconds later, the three exited the party, leaving you with a weight at the pit of your stomach.

You guess some things really have changed since you last saw Tara. 

Back at the Carpenter-Bailey residence, a worried Sam anxiously awaits for her little sister. The flush of relief she felt when Chad messaged her lasted only so long while each minute stretched. She was debating whether or not she should go to them when she heard knocking. As soon as she looked through the peep hole, she opened the door, here worry immediately taking over.

“Finally, I was worried sick! I was trying to call—wait, is she drunk?” Between the speed of Sam’s words and their volume, Tara grew nauseous and overwhelmed.

“Ugh, too loud,” she groaned; she looked half asleep as she leaned against Chad.

Sam sighed at the sight of her sister. Since they moved to New York, this wasn’t a foreign state to see her sister in, but that didn’t mean it didn’t sting.

“I’m gonna wash you up. We’ll talk about this when you’re sober,” she said in a gentle voice as she got closer to her sister, ready to take her off Chad's hands.

Tara immediately clung onto Sam’s waist, the action tugging at the older Carpenter’s heart. Chad mumbled an apologetic, “sorry,” as Sam walked Tara to the bathroom.

After it was ensured that Tara was alright and taken care of, Chad said his goodbyes, along with Ethan, before leaving.

—

It was the next day, and you had history. Ten minutes passed and just as you were taking notes, the door slammed open. Everyone turned their head and saw Tara wearing a black hoodie, gray sweatpants, and a pair of sunglasses. You could safely assume she was suffering from a killer hangover after last night. 

Your professor, who stood at the front of the classroom, looked at her for a moment before adjusting his glasses with a subtle sigh. “Find a seat,” he lazily said before continuing the lesson.

Everyone else returned their attention to the professor, or whatever else they were doing before, but your own eyes followed Tara. You couldn’t help but notice the only available seat was beside you, how ridiculously convenient. Why wouldn’t today be the day people felt especially curious?

With numerous painful steps, Tara approached the seat beside you. By the time she arrived, you had already turned back to your notes. “You could’ve just skipped,” you whispered without skipping a beat, still not looking up from your notes.

“Sam made me go,” she grumbled back whilst she attempted to subtly tilt her head to catch a glimpse of your notes.

“You live with your sister?” you asked; you used your arm to block her view of your notebook.

She rolled her eyes, painfully so, her head was throbbing. “And?” she inquired in a defensive voice.

You shook your head, finally looking away from your notes. “Meant nothing by it. She seems nice,” you reassured her.

“Since when have you two talked? I mean—obviously you two crossed paths. But I didn’t realize you two had talked talked. Like, obviously, at some point in time—” 

Familiar with the Carpenter’s rambling routine, you cut her off before she could speak further. “—Me and her briefly met earlier, before… yeah,” you said.

That was as specific as you were, it was as specific as you would like to be. You weren’t hiding anything, you just wanted the metallic taste in your mouth to go away.

“Really?” Now Tara was curious. “When was that?”

You exhaled, putting down your pencil. You already had a feeling you weren’t going to get much work done with Tara sitting right beside you. “Maybe if you spent as much time taking notes as you did interrogating me, you wouldn’t have to peek over my shoulder every five seconds.”

Tara immediately looked away from your notes as she slumped in her chair. “Whatever, Y/L/N. I’m only here because it’s a mandatory class,” she said. 

“Geez,” you mumbled to yourself before throwing a pencil to Tara. “At least look like you’re doing something.”

After what felt like an eternity, the class finally came to an end. It didn’t take long for you and Tara to grow sick of one another. You were both more than ready to leave, almost racing out the door on your way out.

Outside the classroom, you met Anika. You were about to greet her when Tara shoved passed you without sparing a single glance. You rolled your eyes, something you found yourself doing a lot, as you exhaled, “fucking princess.” 

The interaction may have been just a few seconds at most, but Anika still felt the tension. She could slice through it with a knife. 

“Y/N, please don’t tell me that’s the girl you’ve been ranting about,” your roommate practically pleaded.

You furrowed your eyebrows, confused at this. “Yes…”

“Of course she is,” she sighed. “Well, that girl I’ve been seeing?” 

“Mhm?”

“They’re friends.”

“Really? That’s… great,” you said whilst attempting a supporting smile for your friend.

This was going to be quite the year.

-----------

A/N: First chapter finally posted!

(EDIT) A/N: I think this came out well

[d0youc0py]

Hey ! Sorry for bothering you, I was just wondering if you'd do something with Ghost or all 141 about reader having a really bad mental breakdown/depressive episode? Maybe reader trying to hide on the base while it's happening but Ghost/141 finds them ? Not an established relationship, pinning if you want.

Sorry if you don't feel comfortable with this, please ignore if that is the case ! Love you and your writings , they are all amazing ❤️

Hope you're doing well 🫰🏻

Love you too! Thank you for your kind words! 🤍P.S sorry I’ve been absent I was on vacation!

He was looking for you when he had heard the labored breathing. He was going to ignore it, until he heard a cry that sounded suspiciously like you. His hand hovered over the door knob, debating whether or not he should enter. Another muffled sob was enough to drive his protective instincts forward.

You looked up at him with frantic eyes. A hand over your mouth showing you were trying to conceal the emotions pouring out of you. You quickly lost that battle.

“I.” You stuttered out. Your breathing was so uneven he felt his own lungs squirm.

“I know, kid, I know.” He lulled. His hands grabbed your arms, in a gentleness you didn’t even know he possessed. He brought you to the floor with him, keeping his hands on you.

“I don’t know why”- You swallowed. Your eyes darted around the room, but he squeezed your arms bringing your attention back to him.

“You need to fix your breathing, yeah? When I squeeze your arms- inhale, when I stop- exhale.” His voice was low and you found it hard to be frightened when he used such a warm tone with you. You nodded your head in understanding. You did as you were instructed, but continued to grow more and more panicked as it didn’t seem to help. The lightness in your head continued to increase, your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

“My breath isn’t going all the way down. I can’t do it.” You panted. Your arms reached out, tangling themselves in his hoodie.

“Yes, you can Sweetheart. Worst thing that happens is you pass out and wake up with a sore neck, come on now.” He attempted to soothe. He placed pressure on your arms and your drew you breath in. You lungs soaked up the air like a sponge, and you felt less uneasy once you were finally able to get a few breaths in.

“I’m sorry.” Was the first thing you could think to say after you had calmed. He shook his head disapprovingly. His hands left your shoulders in favor for your fingers that were still tangled in his hoodie. You went to pull away, thinking you had crossed a line, but the warmth- the security of his hands stopped you. You allowed yourself the comfort.

“What’s got you so worked up?” He questioned. Your hands shook in his grasp. His thumb ran over your knuckles. He allowed himself to comfort.

“I’ve just been feeling weird lately. Like things are out of my control and I can’t do anything about it. At first it made me sad now I think it’s making me scared.” You murmured. You admired the way your hand fit perfectly in his no matter the angle.

“I know the feeling.” He sighed, causing your eyes to shoot up.

“You do?” You questioned. The thought of your big bad Lieutenant being anything less than confident threw you for a loop. He nodded his head. “Have you ever-?” You trailed off gesturing to yourself.

“Had a panic attack?” He emphasized. “Course, kid.”

Knowing you weren’t alone caused a heavy weight to leave your tired shoulders.

“Don’t tell anyone though.” He pressed suddenly. His tone was back to the sharp wit you had grown to seek.

“I would never ruin your reputation Lieu.” You smiled, giving his hand a squeeze.

The creepy crawlies were back. The familiar feeling of hopelessness as you watched yourself drown. It had been a while since you’ve had it. That must be why it came back so strong- it was making up for lost time. Your knuckles rubbed your swollen eyes for the millionth time.

Today was an off day. You normally lived for those. Being around your team, the base buzzing with unusual liveliness. Impending death not hanging above your head for once. Yet today it meant you had no distraction. Well, that wasn’t entirely true. Just outside your door there were a plethora of activities to engage in. But the thought of putting both your feet on the hard floor was daunting.

There was a knock at your door.

God, you didn’t want anyone to see you like this.

Maybe if you stayed quiet they would go away.

The door slowly crept open.

Of course it had to be Captain.

Would he dismiss you? You doubted he would want you on his team after this.

“Was waiting for you out there but you never came.” He sighed, making himself at home on the edge of your bed.

“I have a cold.” You lied, sitting up. You stared at the pool of blanket around your waist.

“Y/N.” The sternness in his voice caused you to instinctually look up. Your posture straightened. He could help a smile at the effect his voice had on you. “Please don’t lie to me, honey. I’ve seen that look on many peoples faces- my own included.” His face was so soft and understanding it made your throat tighten.

“I’m sorry I lied.” You groaned, running a hand over your face. “I’m just not having the best week, it won’t impact my work, I promise.” You quickly wiped away a tear.

“I know that.” He affirmed. “You know what I do when I feel that way?” He asked. You sniffled furrowing your brows at the question.

“No. Didn’t think you could even feel this way Captain.”

He chuckled.

“You bet your arse I do. On leave especially.” He paused for a moment. He hoped what he was about to say didn’t scare you off- or make you loose all respect for him. “Y/N, when I feel the way you do now I get piss drunk.” Your eyes widened at his statement. You knew Captain could throw them back, but you never saw him drunk. “I’m not especially proud of it, I’m working on it.”

“Wanna work on it together?” You asked suddenly. “I get out of bed, and you don’t drink?”

He thought about it for a moment. He had a higher chance of succeeding if he was doing something for you. He didn’t want to let you down.

“Deal.” He smirked, holding out a hand for you to shake.

“Can you stay till I fall asleep?” You whispered. Your fingers traced the tattoo on his forearm, the action causing him to nearly fall asleep. His hands rested against your hips, pulling you further up on his body. You quickly pressed your ear against his strong heartbeat. The rhythm relaxed the tense muscles in your back.

“Wouldn’t dream of leaving you, Bon.” The gravel in his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

“Thank you, Mac.” You mumbled, your eyes drooping. He hummed in acknowledgment. “I don’t just mean for this. If it wasn’t for you I probably would’ve cracked my head open from passing out.”

“Ah, someone would’ve found you eventually.” He smirked, pinching at your sides. “Bonnie.” He started.

“Yea?” You hummed, resting your chin on his chest to look up at him. His body flushed at the closeness.

“Ask for help, okay? You feel that way, come and see me. You aren’t alone.” He spoke with nothing but sincerity. He wiped a tear that rolled down your cheek.

“Okay Jo.” You agreed. You leaned up, placing a soft kiss against his cheek, before relaxing against him once again. He wrapped to arms around you, a silent promise of safety and security.

“Are you on medicine or something for this?” He wished he could take back his words at the glare you shot him. “Not the time, Kyle, not the time.” He sighed to himself.

He took a few hesitant steps towards you. Once he realized you weren’t going to tell him to get lost he sat down beside you.

“What do you need from me, love?” He hummed. You sputtered something he couldn’t quite understand. You ran a hand over your face harshly, over the tears that never seemed to stop. “Hey, hey, gentle now. I happen to enjoy your face.” He scolded. He wrapped an arm around you, holding your hands in both of his.

“I don’t feel good.” You rasped out. “My head just won’t stop. It’s like there is someone just constantly yelling at me in my head. It’s exhausting.” You sniffled. You couldn’t help but press yourself closer to Kyle. His body warm and safe.

“Sounds exhausting.” He agreed, resting him chin on your head.

“I do take medicine.” You explained. “I dropped a weeks worth of it on the floor.” You panted, drowsiness already catching up to you.

“That’s happened to me before.” Kyle chuckled. “Well something similar. I went out on a mission with Boss and left my OCD medication in my pocket. It kept rattling so he made me ditch it.” The smile in his voice caused one to spread across your own face.

“Did that happen to be around the time you spent an hour unlocking and relocking the doors? Oh and you cleaned the whole fridge out.”

“Yeah, no one ever said thank you for doing that by the way.” He huffed.

“Thanks Ky.” You smiled. “For cleaning out the fridge and being good to me.”