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poguehearted77 · 4 days ago

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Stormbound

Summary: There's a tropical storm headed straight for the OBX but Rafe won't leave you alone.

smut: dom! rafe, pogue! reader, mentions the pogues, fingering, secret alliances, rafe is a good bad guy, making out, unprotected sex, big dick rafe, choking, teasing, floor sex, missionary, protective rafe, mutual pining but both are too stubborn to admit it.

The rain is just a steady drizzle when you start the long walk back from Figure Eight, cool and misty, soaking through your baby tee and denim shorts, but not quite cold enough to make you turn back.

Not that you would even if it were—the map you’d stuffed in your back pocket was too valuable to leave behind, and JJ had been so insistent that you’d be the one to get it.

It was a worn-out paper, a little frayed around the edges from too many hands clutching it too tight, and tonight, it held the Pogue’s best lead. JJ had been so confident about this—said it’d help them find the next clue, but you were the only one available to get it.

Just in and out, he’d said, sure as always, but of course, that had been before the storm started closing in. Even though you should've been back in the Cut by now, having ridden on the back of JJ's bike as he promised you he would, but of course, he forgot. You cross your arms and mutter to yourself, “Damn it, JJ. This better be worth it.”

The streets around you are silent, eerie even, with all the houses in Figure Eight shuttered up tight in preparation for the coming storm. It’s desolate and unsettling, making you all the more eager to get back to the Cut. But you’re barely halfway there when you hear the low rumble of an engine behind you.

Of course, you think. You don’t even need to turn around to know who it is.

Rafe’s truck slows to a crawl, matching your pace, his headlights cutting through the rain. You feel his eyes on you as he leans out the window, looking you up and down with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“Y/n? What are you doin' out here?” he calls, loud enough to be heard over the rain.

You ignore him, quickening your steps, but he’s persistent. The truck keeps rolling alongside you, just close enough that his voice still carries over the sound of the rain.

“You know there’s a storm coming, right?” he asks, his tone somehow both mocking and concerned. “You’re not gonna make it back before it hits.” A crack of thunder roars through the sky.

“Really? I didn't know that,” you mutter, not bothering to look his way. “Just go away, Rafe.”

He lets out a sigh, exaggerated, and you can practically see him rolling his eyes. “Jesus, can you stop being so damn stubborn? Just get in the car. I'll give you a ride back to the Cut.”

“No thanks.” You keep walking, setting your jaw as you ignore the urge to shiver, the rain starting to pick up, chilling you through your soaked clothes. With another quick glance at the darkened sky, you're now considering taking the shortcut along the beach to shave off some time.

But still, Rafe doesn’t drive off. He just keeps creeping along beside you, the engine of his truck a low, constant hum as he matches your pace. “Stop fucking around, Y/n. If you get caught out here you'll never make it back.” He warns but your shoulders shrug.

“I like those odds a hell of a lot better than risking a ride with you.” you snap, the suppressed shiver prevails as the rain intensifies, falling harder, faster, in cold, fat drops that slap against the pavement and blur the world around you.

Thunder rolls in the distance, low and ominous, and Rafe’s truck finally comes to a full stop as he pulls over. A second later, you hear his door slam shut, and when you glance back, he’s striding through the rain toward you, his face set in an exasperated glare.

“Are you done being difficult yet?” His voice cuts through the rain, his eyes locked on you, unyielding and determined. You hasten your pace, heading down the unpaved path towards the beach with Rafe trailing behind you with calls of your name.

This goes on for too long. The rain is relentless now, pouring down in thick sheets that chill you to the bone. Your vision was so distorted you could hardly see where you were going. You feel yourself starting to shiver, but you lift your chin, refusing to back down even as the storm rages around you.

A heavy hand holds you by the shoulder. “Jesus Christ, Y/n. You're gonna get yourself killed! The storm's just getting started-” he says, his exclamations punctuated with a bright bolt of lightning striking down not too far in the distance followed by a boisterous rumble of thunder.

"Shit!" You both curse before Rafe motions to the storage house up ahead, "We've gotta take shelter before shit goes south."

Even in life and death, your naturally skeptical nature overcomes you as you genuinely take the moment to consider the proposition. The rain was pummelling over the both of you, dripping down your faces, causing you both to squint, “Fine.”

For once there's no smugness in Rafe's expression. It's shielded by a look of relief, initially anticipating more resistance but he doesn’t say another word as you rush towards the shed and lock the doors shut.

The shed was spacious but dark. You took a step forward, or maybe a step back, but you weren't sure, almost instantly tripping over what you can only assume was a pale of some sort. You complain, "I can't see shit in here."

"Hang on," Rafe mumbles, followed by the indistinct sound of ruffled pockets and keys clinking together. The familiar spark of a lighter flicks a flame to life and gives you the light you've needed.

For a moment your eyes meet over the lighter. You clear your throat, looking around for something useful to keep the place lit, a gasp of relief falls from your lips as you locate a dusty lantern on the top shelf.

Raising yourself to the tip of your toes, your fingers are just barely grazing over the glass body of the object before a large hard, adorned with a few rings is already reaching over your head and bringing it down.

"I don't need your help." You snatch the lantern out of his grasp and it causes him to lose balance on the lighter in his left hand, the light goes out for a moment before he relights it.

"Can you ever be fucking grateful for once in your life? Would it kill you to say thank you?" He takes the lantern back and lights it, setting it down on the lower shelf.

"Why should I thank you? You're egotistical, narcissistic, selfish-" Your unfiltered rant is cut short by the pressure of his hand wrapped around your throat. You immediately try to move from him but the weight of his grip holds you in place.

"Selfish? Who's the one that made bail for you when you were caught trespassing in Tanny Hill?" Your brows furrow, "What? Shoupe said it was a wrongful arrest." He shakes his head, his hold around your neck loosens but you don't move it. "That was me. Who's the one that made sure you and those pogues made it off Dead Man's Island untouched when you'd stolen from them? Me."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing, "That doesn't change the fact you're still an asshole. I saw you tampering with my drink at the bar and I got upset then you threw it at my feet-- "That drink was roofied. I saw the bartender spike it," His hold tightened a little more, "Don't worry, I made sure he couldn't use his hands for a long time."

Your stomach was in knots, for once not in a way that made you seasick anytime you were with Rafe. This time was different, there was slight adoration building within you. His eyes were cold, hard, and protective. Without thinking you slinked your hand around the back of his neck and pulled him in for the first kiss of many.

The cold shed quickly filled with warmth as you familiarized yourselves with each other's bodies. Your clothes were now in the pale that tripped you earlier and Rafe's shirt was nowhere to be found, possibly hung up on the wall with the life jackets.

Rain lashes against the walls of the shed, a fierce, steady drumming that drowns out every other sound. The wind howls through the cracks, sharp and wild, whistling as it sweeps across the beach, sending gusts of sand and spray pelting against the flimsy structure.

The ruckus was the least of Rafe's concerns as he had you on your back on a pile of beach towels, moaning his name as he fingered you incessantly with his right hand, his left pinning your leg down to stop moving.

"R-Rafe!" Your vision begins to darken, and your heart rate picks up as you quickly stumble toward your high. The lewd sounds of your slick humiliated you, not because of what it was but because Rafe made you like this. You had Rafe Fucking Cameron between your legs and you loved it.

"Yeah? You got somethin' you wanna say?" He teases, his pace relentless and unforgiving as your body spasmed, your wetness covering his fingers as they stretched you open. The coolness of the metal rings adds a cold surprise with every glide.

"I'm-- fuck! Gonna-" You're interrupted by your own orgasm once Rafe accelerates to a pace that you couldn't handle without being blinded by the heavens. "You look so fucking pretty when you come" Rafe remarks, voice deep but a little unstable. Unsure how long he could maintain his composure.

Not long at all it seems.

The moment the bulbous head of his cock had caught in the ring of your wet heat, he sank himself into the hilt. "Shit-Shit- Shit!" A pained his scratches up the walls of his throat, not giving you a second to adjust. Your back arches off the towels, eyes glossy as they stare up at Rafe whose eyes are screwed shut, bottom lip tucked between his teeth as soft grunts fall from his lips.

His eyes open to look down at you, entranced with every movement on your face, looking for any signs to slow down, but your legs wrap around his waist to pull him closer. He groans at the extra depth he reaches within your velvet walls. He lowers himself down, dropping teasing kisses on your lips, the some behind your ear, down the side of your neck and you were sick of his antics.

Looping your fingers under his chain you pull him close to you once again, locking your lips with his. The kiss is messy, unrestrained and dangerously intimate for a pogue and a kook to share. "Can't get enough of you," He whispers against your lips, his thrusts slowing down and dragging slower making everything feel deeper.

"Why'd you have to be such a douchebag." You pout between kisses and he chuckles, "Maybe I wouldn't have to be if you weren't such an ungrateful brat." He snaps his hips on impulse causing you to gasp.

"I'm n-not-" You were losing your train of thought and Rafe couldn't concentrate on anything more than the immense wave of pleasure that was breaking down over him.

"Not what? Huh?" You were unable to speak, the coil in your core rapidly igniting, about to snap. Rafe didn't need to hear you say it to know you were close. "Come on, baby. Give it to me. Give me all you got." His gruff tone combined with the pet name had you unravelling beneath him and he came moments later, pulling out and pumping his cum on your stomach.

He kept you warm on the towels, his larger frame wrapped up with yours. You both refused to acknowledge what had just happened when-- "Oh Shit!" You jolt up, rushing to the pale where your clothes had been displaced and you rummage through the pockets of your shorts to find the map that caused all this.

"What's wrong?" You ignore his question once you have the map in your hands, It's still folded, but soaked. You carefully opened it and the ink was partially illegible, but you could still make out some of the words.

"Is that what I think it is?" Rafe asks and you nod slowly, "The map to Kraken's Rest? It was. The rain washed it out." Rafe takes a closer look at the map, asking where you'd gotten this from.

"I.. borrowed it from the museum." You lie. "You don't have to lie to me, I know you stole this-- Did you get it off the display?" You nod, and he tosses the map carelessly into the pale.

Suddenly you remembered why you didn't get along. "What are you doing I need that." You're about to retrieve it when he speaks up. "Museums rarely put the real shit out for the public. All the authentic artifacts are kept in the Kildare vaults."

The good news puts a smile on your face before reality wipes it off, "How am I supposed to get in there unnoticed? They'll catch me before I even make it to the door."

Rafe grins as if the sequence of events has worked itself out too perfectly. "I'm on the guest list for their upcoming exhibit charity gala. The vaults are fingerprint-protected, and I know a guy who's got access. The event is pretty high-profile so I know he'll be there. I can lift his prints and pass them to you during the night so you can get to the vault..."

It sounded like a good plan but how would Rafe get prints to you-- He continues, "But if the plan is gonna work, you'll have to come with me. As my plus one." He's unable to mask the small tug on his lips at the offer and you smile.

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frogstappen · 5 days ago

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𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧, 𝐮𝐬

best friend!max verstappen x reader / 2.4k

max keeps up your friendly tradition at the us grand prix.

⚠️: friends with a little something more on the horizon. one teeny mention of throwing up in a sleeping bag. cutesy, fluffy, best pal max.

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴘᴀʀᴛ ᴏɴᴇ ʜᴇʀᴇ

The world is alive with a kick only found in Austin.

Cowboy hats and cowgirl boots; star-spangled everything and a roaring reception fit for rock ‘n roll stars. Bloodthirst donned in a bolo tie and winning smile.

You swipe through your camera roll, pinching each photo to read the gimmicky banners and count the bullhorn gestures. Giggling when you spot a grown man with a sign addressed to Lewis: I called in sick to watch you race.

Max glances over his shoulder. “What’s so funny?”

You turn your phone.

He squints at the screen, huffing a laugh, then scrolls through some more. “They love and hate with the same passion. It’s actually kind of scary.”

“I love it here.”

You push off the couch and wander over to the window.

The sky is a brilliant blue, dazzling even through the tinted glass. Striking Southern sunlight bounces off each motorhome in the paddock. The lot busies away, polos scurrying from building to building, VIP lanyards shielding their eyes from the sun to take it all in.

Max taps your shoulder with your phone and nods to the door. “C’mon. Time.”

He leads you outside, loosening his elbow to let you slip your arm through his. He turns heads and raises whispers – though none of it seems to bother him. It’s like he doesn’t even notice.

He’s already turning inward, already picturing the starting line behind his eyes. He’s thinking tactics and thinking strategies, making mental notes about turns twelve through fifteen; tire degradation and DRS and not saying fuck or shit or driving too close to the car marked 4.

His eyes lift only for a second. He frowns at some photographers up ahead and positions himself in front as you walk. His head ducks again, giving them little more than a winning shot of his Red Bull cap – and he takes your hand.

“Here,” he says, “We can dodge them.”

He cuts between ferns and life-size driver banners, speeding past crowded bistro sets. By the time they clock him – Was that Max Verstap–? – he’s already thin air.

Through one of the backdoors to the garages, Max pulls you down a darkened hallway.

You giggle, trying not to trip over his heels. Cooler, though not by much, you breathe a sigh of relief and rub the starry sunshine from your vision. When you pull your knuckles away from your eyes, you gasp.

Max halts.

“What?” he asks, twisting around. His hand stays locked in yours. “You okay?”

Your nose bumps against his shoulder as you crane to see properly through the sliver of an ajar door.

Behind a throng of serious faces in white shirts and headsets – a table. Three trophies, tall and slender, polished to perfection. Obnoxious, maybe a little – but glamorous and gleaming all the same.

And right in front of them –

“Are those the podium caps?”

Max studies your face for a moment. A smile threatens the corner of his lips, but he fights it down. He follows your eye to the three hats.

He nods. “Looks like it.”

“Denim, Max. That’s so cool.”

“Well, y’know,” he sniffs, giving your hand a light tug, “It is Austin.”

“I don’t have a denim one. Yet.”

He shoots you a look more steel than blue. You don’t have to speak Max Verstappen to know exactly what it means.

You’ve been collecting his race caps – the rare designs, anyway – for as long as he’s been in Formula One. At home, there’s a whole corner of your closet dedicated strictly to Pirelli.

His very first winners’ cap sits proudly on the tallest hook, all the way to the Canadian maple leaf design that made you squeal when he presented it to you.

He knows the ones you’d like, the second he sees them. Eight years’ worth of victories, turned into something even more meaningful.

Granted, there have been a little fewer than normal lately – but sometimes, you like to pretend he’s in that cockpit aiming for first at least in part to see the smile on your face when he fits the cap on your head.

Still. He stares you down.

“I wouldn’t get too excited,” he says, walking on. “The car is shit, lately.”

“Language,” you hiss, grinning.

Max shakes his head. “I can still send you home, you know. The race hasn’t started yet.”

He’s only jesting – but annoying him is too much fun.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do that. I’m here for sympathy reasons, remember?”

He grunts in response.

Austin wasn’t meant to be on your list this year. It’s one of your favorite grands prix, that’s for sure, but you had planned to miss it this time around on account of the new guy you’d been seeing.

That is – until you called it quits last month.

It had only been a few months – three, if that – but the longer it went on, the more you noticed incompatibilities. Little things, like the way your schedules clashed, or the kinds of places you each liked to hang out.

He was a great guy, and he took it like a champ – which made the bruise sting a little…sharper.

Max let you wallow for three days. He spent a decent chunk of the month’s break after Singapore at your place; ordering you takeout and then refusing to let you pay, waking you up each morning to work out with him. You’d never admit it, but after a while, it got kinda fun.

Then, when it was time to get back to work, he invited you to Austin. You know being there will cheer you up, he said. And besides, I need my lucky charm.

So far – what with the denim Pirelli caps and the front-row qualifying result – he’s fast turning out to be right.

He pauses at the turn into the garage. “How are you, anyway? Feeling distracted?”

You smile, slumping against the wall opposite him. “Very. I forgot how hard this place goes.”

He nods, sipping from his bottle. He glances down the hall towards the echoes of photographers. “Sorry about the…” he waves a dismissive hand, “…Ever since Singapore, they…”

“You don’t think I’m used to it by now, three-time-world-champion?”

He curves his hand around the back of his neck, lips curling. “You wanna watch from the garage again, or upstairs?”

“Upstairs, please. I don’t need another 4D experience of you crashing.”

“Wasn’t exactly fun to me, either,” he says, nudging your arm. He lists directions, reminding you to stay behind the shrubbery to evade the cameras. He makes you swear you’ll text him once you’re seated.

“Do you want my pinkie, or is a blood oath more acceptable?”

“It’s a lot of different tracks, alright? Sometimes even I get lost.”

Your eyes narrow. Liar.

He smirks. “Okay, I don’t. But I also don’t stop to fucking stare at denim hats, so.”

“Go do your job, potty mouth. And drive safe.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean it, Max. Just – aim to finish in one piece.”

He pulls you in for a hug, pressing his lips to your temple.

“I’m aiming for a cap,” he says, and swings into the garage.

It’s Ferrari’s race from the opening lap. No other team gets a look-in.

Charles steals the lead from under Lando’s feet, propelling ahead with Carlos in tow to secure an easy one-two for the Prancing Horse. They hold fast the entire race and – though they are, in theory, two of your best friend’s current enemies – they nail it.

You know that, when you find each other later, Max will tell you the same. He’s never a sore loser when simply lovely racing is involved.

Fifty-six laps and five and a half kilometers later, you’re watching him on the podium.

Well. You’re watching your next collector’s item – on his head – on the podium.

Third place isn’t too shabby for a man perpetually fighting his machine – and even he looks relieved just to be up there. He glances down as the Monégasque national anthem plays, and tilts his head purposefully.

You grin up at him, eyebrows raised. I see it, you send telepathically. I’ve chosen its hook already.

Max is careful not to let it become too soaked during the champagne spraying. He ducks out of Charles’s path, aims his own at Carlos’s back. He’s the first to tip the bottle against his lips and drink, and the others quickly follow suit.

There’s probably a grilling waiting for him in the press tent. Was Norris’s five-second penalty just? How did the car feel during that battle? Do you see the rear-end of a McLaren when you close your eyes at night?

You take the opportunity while the paddock is still quiet to sneak back to his motorhome, falling back onto the double bed. There’s a flatscreen on the wall opposite you; a crystal vase of roses on the marble counter beneath.

Some days you have to remind yourself that, behind all the titles and trophies and treasure – he’s still the same kid who ate so much candy at your eighth birthday party that he threw up in his sleeping bag.

Behind all of it, he’s still Max. Your Max.

Says you can have a go at his racing simulator, then laughs while you fight with the controls. Says he’ll pick you up after a night out, then takes voice recordings of your drunken babbling to play back to your hungover self.

Says, He was a nice guy, but you’re going to be okay – and invites you to Austin to take your mind off it.

You’re watching some real estate show under eyes heavy with sleep when the motorhome door clicks open.

His shadow sways down the narrow trailer, and he materializes at the foot of the bed.

“Hello.”

You lift your head. “Hello, yourself.”

He takes your wrists and pulls you upright, scooping you in a strong hug. He’s soaked in sweat and champagne, race suit hanging from his hips, but you wrap your arms around his shoulders anyway.

His hair is damp, cheeks flushed and heated. His stubble scrapes your skin. He buries his nose in the crook of your neck and sighs.

“Thinking of moving to Mexico?” he murmurs into your shoulder, turning to look at the screen.

“The remote was on the other side of the room. I’m tired.”

“Me, too,” he says. He pulls back.

You take his jaw in your hands. “You did so good,” you whisper, thumbs smoothing the lines his balaclava has left behind. “That battle with Lando – I thought – maybe –”

He scoffs, lazy smirk pulling across his face. “Nah. Light work.”

It warrants the knock you deal his bicep.

Max laughs. “Oh,” he says, and reaches behind his back. From the waistband of his suit, he pulls a slightly dented, very drenched third-place cap. He straightens out the material. “Took it off as soon as we got backstage. Didn’t want my hair to make it all sweaty.”

You take it from his hands delicately, grinning from ear to ear as you tilt it in the light. “It’s so fucking cool, Max.”

He hums. “Here.”

He handles it with the same care you did, for the sole reason that it means this much to you – and Max knows it. With a gentle smile, eyes flitting from yours to your lips, he places the cap over your head and straightens it into place.

“There,” he steps back, “You just won third place at Circuit of the Americas.”

You giggle, turning to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. “Oh my God, I look so goofy.”

“No you don’t,” Max replies, standing behind your reflection. “You suit it better than I do.”

There’s a beat – a moment, stood against his chest, eyes locked and hearts aligned. You lean back on your heels, and he perches his chin soft on your head.

His hands find your shoulders. “I’m gonna jump in the shower,” he says. “Do you want to head back to the hotel now, or –?”

You shake your head. “I’m good. I’ll wait for you.”

“’kay,” he whispers. He lingers, still scanning the sight before him. Hands still on your body, squeezing in time with your hammering heartbeat.

Probably taking in the oddity of the entire thing, the same way you are. The two of you framed in the mirror, no closer than you spend most days, and somehow – the closest you’ve ever felt him.

Your Max. Who once caught wind that you had a crush on one of the kids in class, and teased you all summer long for it. Who once gatecrashed your horror movie night with Victoria; burst out of the closet in a Ghostface mask, screaming bloody murder.

It’s exactly the kind of feeling you’d text him for advice on. Hey, what do you think about this? I had butterflies today, standing next to this guy.

Exactly the kind of thing that he’d reply with, Does he know you cry at animated movies?

Does he know you say good morning to the birds?

Does he know you burn pancakes anytime you try to make them?

Yes, you’d send. And he doesn’t mind any of it.

Max takes the visor of your cap between his fingers and turns it. “This way for when you’re feeling fancy,” he says, laughing at his own joke the way he always does.

You breathe a relieved laugh of your own. “Sure,” you reply, shaking that feeling free. You turn, hands light on his forearms. Your gaze climbs from his chest to his eyes.

“Thank you,” you whisper, staring into the oceanic home you’ve known since you were a kid. “I’m really glad I came. You, uh…I don’t know what I’d do without you, Max.”

He shrugs – never one to take a compliment without wrestling with it first. “’s not about me,” he replies, tapping your nose with his knuckle. He swallows, shifting between feet, before his chest fills with a deep breath. “Let me take you to dinner. As a thanks for coming, obviously.”

“You mean the hat isn’t my thanks?”

He shakes his head. “I can do better than a smelly denim hat.”

“I’ll bet you can, Verstappen.”

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen fic #mv33 x reader #f1 fanfic #formula one #formula 1 #my writing #fic: austin us

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sadnymi · 3 months ago

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August

[ Mattheo riddle x reader] [part2]

Summary: all y/n wanted is to love and to be loved to see the beauty of the world and to be happy even if that’s mean she will have to hide away , until that summer the summer she talked to mattheo riddle.

Words: 8.5k

Warnings: fluff, Angst , Angst , and a lot of angst, strong language , light smut, toxic, abused father.

August, finally. Summer, at last. The book snapped shut with a quiet _click_, and I slipped it into my bag. A glance at the darkening sky confirmed my decision. Time to go.

The beach was deserted now, save for the distant sound of laughter from a party I hadn’t been invited to. No hard feelings, no bad blood. It wasn’t that they disliked me—they simply didn’t see me.

I was an outsider to that world, a solitary figure on the periphery. No invitations had been extended, no longing glances cast my way. It was as though I existed in a silent film, a mere extra in the grand spectacle of life.

The sky, a masterpiece of blue, held me captive. In that moment, I was adrift, a solitary vessel on a boundless ocean. There was no turmoil, no drama, just the gentle sway of existence.

As I drove away from the beach, a flash of movement caught my eye. I slowed the car, looking out the window. There, on a bench under the pale glow of a streetlamp, was a figure slumped over. A bottle dangled precariously from one hand, and his face was streaked with what looked like red liquid. My heart skipped a beat as I recognized him—Mattheo Riddle, the infamous troublemaker.

I pulled over and got out of the car, the gravel crunching under my feet as I approached him. He was asleep, his dark hair falling over his eyes, his usually sharp features softened by unconsciousness.

I carefully took the bottle from his hand, the alcohol’s pungent smell mixing with the salt air. He stirred, and in an instant, his hand shot out, catching mine.

He sat up abruptly, blinking rapidly, clearly disoriented. “What the—” he muttered, his voice thick with sleep and alcohol. “Betty? Bethany? Is that you?”

"No," I replied, my tone firm yet gentle. "It's Y/n."

He sat up abruptly, blinking against the night. The world seemed to tilt for him, and I extended a steady hand. His fingers, calloused and strong, closed around mine. A wave of dizziness washed over him, his eyes glazing over.

"Y/n Y/L/n," he mumbled, as if testing the syllables on his tongue. "Y/N Y/L/N... I know who you are."

"You do?" I asked, a bit surprised.

"Oh, I know," he said, attempting to stand. He wobbled, and I reached out to steady him.

"You want me to help you get back home?"

He attempted to stand, wobbling on his feet, and I instinctively reached out to steady him.

"Easy there," I murmured, helping him to his feet.

"Thank you, love,"

"It's Y/N," I corrected.

"But 'love' fits you quite fine," he replied, a flirtatious glint in his eyes.

I rolled my eyes. "Let me drive you home."

"Yeah, that'd be nice."He nodded, still leaning on me for support.

"Are you staying with Enzo at the Berkshire house?" I asked.

"Yeah," he mumbled, his head lolling slightly.

With some effort, I guided him to the car and helped him into the passenger seat. As I started the engine, he looked over at me, his expression softening.

"You’re so kind, love," he mumbled. "Why are you so kind to me?"

"Because you need help," I replied simply. "Just doing the right thing,"

He laughed softly, a drunken, endearing sound. "You’re too good for this world, Y/N." he mumbled, "Always thought you were pretty."

"Thank you, Mattheo," I replied, trying to keep my focus on the road.

"I’ve noticed you before, you know. Always so quiet, so calm. I like that," he continued, his voice softening.

"That's sweet of you to say."

He leaned back in the seat, his eyes closing again. "Yeah, love. Sweet."

I pulled up to the Berkshire house and helped him out of the car. "Let’s get you inside."

As we walked to the door, he leaned heavily on me, his steps unsteady. "You’re my angel, love," he whispered.

"It's Y/N, and you’re drunk" I reminded him gently. "And you have a girlfriend,"

"Oh, not anymore," he slurred, his expression turning somber.

I looked at him, confused. "What do you mean?"

"It’s over. She doesn’t want me anymore," he mumbled, swaying slightly.

We reached the front door, and I knocked, but no one answered. Enzo must still be at the party.

"Do you have a key?" I asked.

"Yeah, somewhere," he replied, patting his pockets aimlessly.

"I need more than ‘somewhere,’ Mattheo. Can you please tell me where your key is?"

After a moment of fumbling, he pulled it out and handed it to me with a smile. I opened the door and helped him inside, guiding him to the couch. He collapsed onto it with a groan.

"No one's here," I said, glancing around.

"Are you trying to get me all alone, Y/N?"

"What? No, I just wanted someone to be here so you won’t do anything stupid," I retorted, feeling a blush creep up my cheeks.

But he was already drifting off, too drunk to do much of anything. I walked to the kitchen to get a water bottle. It felt wrong to walk around someone else's house like this, but then I spotted a bottle of aspirin on the table. Maybe these boys get drunk a lot; why else would it be there?

I returned to the living room, placing the water and aspirin on the table. I noticed Mattheo struggling to get his jacket off, one arm stuck in the sleeve. Gently, I helped him remove it and set it aside.

"Thanks, Betty," he murmured in his sleep, making my heart sink.

I blinked, fighting the urge to correct him, "You're welcome, Riddle," I whispered, knowing he wouldn’t hear it. He thought I was someone else. I was his Betty I doubted he even knew who I really was all that time.

As I get back to the car I noticed the bottle of red wine on the seat and couldn't help but smile.

The next day, the familiar sound of my parents arguing filled the house, so I grabbed my keys and headed to the beach for some peace.

When I got there, I saw him again. He was sitting on the sand, his hair damp, and his shirt clinging to his wet body. He must have just come out of the ocean. I tried to turn away, but it was too late—he had already noticed me.

"Going to ignore me?" he asked, walking towards me.

"No, of course not," I lied.

He smiled, "Liar." Then he looked at me seriously. "Thank you for last night. I'm sorry if I said anything that offended you. I don't remember much, but I appreciate what you did."

I was surprised he remembered at all and I wondered if he recalled calling me Betty too. "It's okay, you didn't. You just had a bad day, I guess."

He nodded. “I can leave if you want.”

“No, it’s okay,” I said, sitting down on the sand and pulling out my book.

“Little Women,” he remarked, eyeing the cover.

I nodded. He asked, “Who's your favorite character?”

Suddenly nervous, I struggled to form a coherent sentence. “Uh, Amy,” I finally managed.

“Oh, wow. Amy?” He raised an eyebrow.

I rolled my eyes.

“What was that for?” he asked, smiling.

“You’re just going to bully her, probably.”

“No, I would never do such a thing.”

I nodded, turning my gaze to the blue water. “It’s just... she’s not—”

“She’s not what?” I interrupted, defensive. “Amy is passionate and driven. She knows what she wants and goes after it. She’s not afraid to dream big.”

Mattheo was looking at me, truly listening. I blinked and looked away.

He grinned, teasing, “You’re quite the defender.”

I felt his eyes on me, making it impossible to focus on my book. I looked up and met his gaze. “You’re staring,” I said.

“I’m staring,” he replied, unashamed.

I laughed and closed the book. “What do you want?”

“I want to listen to you.”

“Listen to me?”

“Yeah, just like when you were defending Amy with your life a minute ago.”

“I don’t have anything interesting to talk about.”

He sat closer, leaning on his arm. “Then tell me something about yourself, something that no one knows.”

I laughed nervously. “No one knows anything about me, Mattheo.”

“Mysterious, are we?”

“More invisible, are we.”

His expression softened. “You are not invisible. Not to me, not anymore.”

I looked away. “Fine. I can’t swim.”

“You what?”

“I can’t swim. Tried too many times but failed.”

He looked shocked. “I can teach you.”

“Oh no, thanks."

“Come on, that’s the least I can do after last night.”

“No, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that.”

He nodded, sensing there was more to it. “You’re not getting away from it, but we’ll drop it for now. Tell me, what can I do for you?”

“Nothing. You don’t have to.”

“But I want to.”

Blushing, I tried to say something, anything to distract from his gaze. “You can get me ice cream.”

He laughed. “That’s it? Just ice cream?”

I smiled. “Yes.”

“Fine, you get this.” He stood up and offered me his hand. Nervously, I took it, and he helped me up.

As we walked, a comfortable silence settled between us. I broke it, almost without thinking. “Wanna play something?”

I wasn’t sure why I asked, maybe to feel what it’s like to have a conversation, to play with a friend. Wait—a friend? No, we’re not friends.

He interrupted my thoughts. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

“I spy with my little eye...” I said, feeling a bit silly. He laughed, and I knew why. It was childish, very childish. But this was new to me. I hadn’t experienced much of this in my childhood.

“Fine with me. Wanna start?” he asked, grinning.

I nodded. “I spy with my little eye, something... blue.”

He looked around, squinting playfully. “The ocean?”

“Too easy. Your turn,” I said, smiling.

“I spy with my little eye, something... red,” he said, his eyes twinkling mischievously.

I scanned the surroundings. “That towel over there?”

“Nope,” he replied, smirking.

“Give me a hint?”

He leaned closer, his voice dropping to a flirtatious whisper. “It’s closer than you think.”

I frowned, looking around us. Then I realized—my swimsuit strap, peeking out from under my shirt. “Oh. My swimsuit?”

“Got it,” he said, his grin widening.

We continued like this, the game bridging the gaps between our words. He was better at it than I expected.

“I spy with my little eye, something... brown,” I said, feeling more relaxed.

“My hair,” he guessed quickly, ruffling it for emphasis.

“Right again.”

“I spy with my little eye, something... beautiful,” he said, looking directly at me.

I blushed. “Mattheo...”

“What? You’re wearing it. That necklace,” he said, pointing to the small pendant I always wore.

“So, what’s your favorite flavor?” I asked, trying to steer the conversation back to safer grounds.

“Mint chocolate chip. Yours?”

“Strawberry.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Sweet and classic. Fits you.”

I rolled my eyes playfully.

“Just being honest.”

We arrived at the ice cream booth, still caught up in our game. “Two cones, please,” he ordered, handing me one.

“Thank you,” I said, taking a bite.

“Anytime, love,” he replied, winking.

I felt his eyes on me again, the way they made me feel seen. It was unsettling and exhilarating at the same time.

Then we continued our game.

"I spy with my little eye, something... on your face," he said, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

I frowned, confused. "What? Where?"

He stepped closer, his eyes locking onto mine. "Right here," he said softly, pointing to the corner of my mouth. "You’ve got a bit of ice cream."

I tried to wipe it away, but missed. “Did I get it?”

“Here, let me help.” He reached out, wiping the spot with his finger, brushing my lips. My breath hitched at the contact.

Just then, a cat darted out from the bushes, startling me. Instinctively, I grabbed Mattheo. My ice cream went flying, splattering all over his shirt.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry!” I started to panic, my apologies tumbling out in a rush. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t see the cat—”

“Trying to get me naked already, Y/N? If you wanted me to take my shirt off, you should have just asked, love.”

But my mind was elsewhere, trapped in a darker place. I kept apologizing, my breathing becoming erratic. Memories of my father’s anger flashed in my mind, and I couldn’t see Mattheo standing there.

“Y/N, it’s okay. It’s just a shirt,” he said, trying to calm me. But I couldn’t stop, the panic rising within me.

“Hey, hey, Y/N, look at me, baby,” he said, more urgently. I didn’t respond until he cupped my face, forcing me to meet his eyes. “It’s just a shirt. It’s okay.”

I nodded, still trembling. He wiped away the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, love,” he said, shaking his head.

“You’re not mad?”

“Of course I’m not mad,” he assured me. “If anything, you’ve given me an excuse to show off.” He grinned, his flirtatious tone returning. “I bet you’re wondering how someone can look this good, even with ice cream all over them.”

I laughed softly, feeling the tension ease a bit. “Maybe a little.”

“See? Just a shirt and a bit of ice cream. No big deal,” he said, his hands still gently holding my face. “Now, let’s get you another ice cream.”

For the next weeks, we were inseparable. Mattheo and I met at the beach every day, talking, playing, and even reading a book together. His relentless flirting always left my cheeks as red as blood and made breathing a challenging task.

Today, as I parked the car and got out, I saw him playing football with a little boy.

"Who is that?" I asked, curious.

He looked up at me and smiled. "Found him here. He’s adorable—might just adopt him."

I laughed. "You can’t just adopt a kid you found on the beach, Mattheo."

I knelt down to the boy's level. "Hi."

"Hi," he responded, smiling.

"Where are your parents?" I asked.

"Over there," he said, pointing to a small family who waved at us once they noticed we were looking at them.

I looked up at Mattheo. He smiled. "What? You look adorable when you’re confused. I’d never miss a chance to see that expression on your face."

I sat on the back of my car, watching them. He continued to play with the boy for a little while until his family called him to leave. I waved goodbye to the little boy and then turned my attention to Mattheo.

"I never knew you were that good with kids," I said as he walked over to me, placing his hands on either side of me.

"Yeah?" he asked, and I nodded.

"Let me wonder why," he said, smiling. "Maybe because my father who probably wants to end the world died and left me fatherless?"

My eyes widened. "No, no, Mattheo, I didn’t mean that."

He chuckled. "I’m just teasing you, my love."

I blinked, noticing the subtle difference—"my love," not just "love."

"Go ahead, ask it," he said.

"Ask what?" I replied, feigning ignorance.

"I can see you thinking. You probably want to ask something but are afraid to," he said.

I shook my head, but he insisted. "It’s okay, you can ask me anything, and I will answer it."

I smiled, about to speak, but he cut me off. "With one condition."

"What? What is it?" I asked, curious and a bit apprehensive.

"Come with me," he said, glancing at the ocean. "You don’t have to swim or learn, just a little in. I’ll be there and will help you and answer all your questions too."

I felt a wave of nervousness and fear, but he noticed, touching my cheeks gently. "Hey, hey, look at me, love. Forget about it, okay? If you’re not—"

"No, no, I want to," I cut him off, nodding. "Are you sure?" he whispered, and I smiled, saying, "Never had I ever before."

I got off the car, and despite not wearing a bikini, I shyly took off my shirt, revealing my one-piece swimsuit. He smiled, taking off his shirt as well, and grabbed my hands. His touch was reassuring, and as we walked towards the ocean, I felt a mix of excitement and anxiety.

He led me into the water, just a step ahead of me, watching carefully as I looked down, watching my feet touch the water.

"Up, eyes on me, my love," he said softly. I did as he asked, meeting his gaze. He smiled at me and said, "Now, ask your questions."

I knew what he was doing—distracting me from my fear. I smiled nervously. "Okay, it’s personal and-," I began, but he cut me off.

"It’s over," he said, my eyes widening that he already knew what I was going to ask. "Come on, love, I was waiting for you to ask it. You didn’t think I knew? Yeah, me and Bethany—it’s over since that night."

I nodded, feeling a bit relieved. He took his turn. "Tell me, why are you afraid of it?" he asked gently, his fingers tracing circles on my hands.

"My father—my father, he threw me into the ocean once. I thought I was going to die, but then he pulled me out at the last moment," I said, my voice trembling. He stopped walking, squeezing my hands gently.

"Why would he do that? How could he do that?" he asked, his eyes darkening with concern.

"He’s very religious. He doesn’t tolerate... mistakes. I was ten. It was a birthday party for a daughter of one of my mother’s friends. We the kids were playing—a silly game. Seven minutes in heaven. Nothing happened, we just stayed in the closet. But my father didn’t believe me, or maybe he did and was just angry that I agreed to such a ‘shameless game’ as he called it. My mother bore the brunt of his anger after that," I explained.

He listened intently, his face a mix of anger and empathy. I was too afraid to look at him directly, but then I realized the water was up to my chest. I panicked, and he immediately wrapped his arms around my waist.

"I got you," he said, and I clung to him.

"Did your parents divorce?" he asked softly.

"Oh, worse," I said bitterly. "They stayed together for the kid—me. Can’t you see how happy I am now, thanks to them?" I laughed, but he didn't. Instead, he tightened his hold on me.

"You asked too many questions. You cheated," i said, he smiled tucking a strand of my hair behind my ear while still holding me.

"I don’t follow rules, my love," he said, and I smiled. "But you’re right. Ask away."

"Will you—will you still talk to me when we go back to school?" I asked, finally looking him in the eyes. There was nothing under my feet now; I was deep in the ocean. But it wasn't that which made me nervous—it was his answer.

"Why would you think I wouldn’t?" he asked, smiling and touching my hair, then my cheeks.

"I don’t know. I just thought..." I struggled to express my fear.

"You thought wrong, my love," he said, and despite being in the water, I clung to him even more. "Of course I will," he whispered in my ear. I nodded, resting my head on his shoulder, afraid to look at him, afraid to see a look of uncertainty in his beautiful eyes, or worse, something more—a desire I had long craved but thought was a fantasy, a dream people like me couldn’t have.

"Now, my turn. Why do you always hide?" he asked, and I looked at him, confused.

"Hide?"

"Yes, hide from everyone. You’re one of the smartest witches in our year. You have too—"

"I don’t want that," I interrupted.

"Don’t want what?"

"It’s just—I—" I tried to explain. "I don’t want to be noticed. I thought I did, but I don’t. It’s... ugh, Merlin, this is hard to explain. I just want to be happy."

"Happy?" he asked, his tone gentle.

"Yes, happy. Just happy and loved. I want love. I want to see the beauty in everything, but people always ruin that, don’t they? I want peace and happiness and love—a lot of love. And just because I don’t want to be a fighter or always know what to say, always fighting for things, always proving and proving—I’m so tired of always having to prove that I deserve to live, to be part of this world. I don’t want power or everything. I just want a little something, a little love. And I’m not weak, but I can’t explain that without sounding like a weak person, a scared girl. I’m not. I’m stronger than they all think," I yelled the last part.

"I know," he said gently, his hands in my hair.

"I was just trying to survive," I said, and he nodded.

I looked into his eyes and regretted it. The sun made them even more beautiful, and the thoughts I had would make my father get a priest to cleanse my soul. Sadly, I realized how close we were, his hands on my skin, our faces too close.

I didn’t realize I was looking at his lips until I looked up and saw his smirk.

My heart racing as his smile softened into something more tender, more intimate. The sun glinted off the water, casting a golden light over his face. His hand was warm against my skin, the other still wrapped securely around my waist.

"Don’t let go," I whispered, my voice trembling. "I don’t want to die."

His smile widened, and he leaned in closer, his breath warm against my cheek. "I would never," he murmured, his voice steady and reassuring.

He reached out, his right hand cupping my chin, gently guiding my face until I was forced to meet his gaze. His other arm remained securely around my waist, holding me close. “Don’t look away from me now,” he said, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down my spine.

I wanted to tell him that I couldn’t, that I didn’t want to look away, but the feelings swirling inside me terrified me. I inched even closer to him, our bodies nearly flush against each other. I could feel his breath on my face, warm and intoxicating, and without thinking—or maybe because I didn’t want to think—I leaned in and kissed his cheek.

The moment my lips touched his skin, I felt a jolt of surprise, as if I had crossed a line I didn’t even know existed. He looked just as surprised, his eyes widening slightly.

“Was this a sin?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of curiosity and guilt.

He smiled, his lips curving into a playful grin. “I don’t think so.”

I closed my eyes, feeling his breath tickle my lips as he leaned in closer. Without hesitation, I kissed his other cheek, the warmth of his skin searing against my lips.

I opened my eyes, meeting his gaze once more, and then, almost without thinking, I placed another kiss on his jaw. He let out a soft, appreciative hum that sent a thrill through me.

“Definitely not a sin,” he murmured, his voice low and thick with desire.

I couldn’t help but smile at his words. He tilted his head, brushing his lips over mine, teasing, tasting, but not quite kissing me fully.

And then he kissed me.

His lips met mine with a hunger that took my breath away, his arms tightening around me, pulling me even closer. His kiss was searing, demanding, as if he was pouring all of his unspoken desires, all of his pent-up emotions, into this one moment.

I melted into him, my hands clutching at his shoulders, desperate to keep him close. His fingers tangled in my hair, tugging gently as he deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against mine in a dance that left me dizzy, craving more.

"You taste like strawberries,” he whispered against my lips.

“And you taste like trouble,” I replied, my breath hitching as his mouth moved to my neck, placing slow, deliberate kisses.

“Good trouble?” he asked, his tongue tracing a path up to my ear.

“The best kind,” I breathed, my fingers tangling in his hair, then his lips were on mine again.

His hand moved from my waist to my lower back, pulling me flush against him, the force of his kiss making my head spin. I melted into him, my hands gripping his shoulders as I kissed him back just as fiercely, my body responding to him in a way that felt both foreign and completely natural.

He broke the kiss for a brief moment, his lips hovering just above mine as he whispered, “You feel this too, don’t you?”

His words sent heat pooling low in my belly, and I gasped as he nipped at my bottom lip, his hands sliding down to grip my hips, pulling me flush against him. I could feel the hard length of him pressed against me, a tangible reminder of just how much he wanted this, wanted me.

I nodded, too breathless to speak, my eyes half-closed as I leaned in to kiss him again. He didn’t hesitate, capturing my lips in another heated kiss, his hands roaming up my back, holding me so close that I could feel every beat of his heart.

His lips moved to my neck, kissing and nipping at the sensitive skin there, and I gasped, the sound swallowed by the crashing waves. He pulled back just enough to look at me, his eyes dark and filled with a desire that mirrored my own.

“Say my name,” he whispered, his breath hot against my ear as he nipped at the lobe. “Say it, love.”

“Mattheo,” I gasped, my voice barely recognizable as my own, filled with a longing I could no longer deny.

He kissed me again, his lips crashing against mine with a fervor that made my knees weak. His hands gripped my hips tighter, pulling me closer as he deepened the kiss, his tongue slipping past my lips to tangle with mine in a dance of want and need.

I was lost in him, in the sensation of his body pressed against mine, his lips claiming me in a way that felt both dangerous and exhilarating. I knew there would be no going back from this, that whatever we were doing, whatever was happening between us, it was irreversible.

A distant sound broke through the haze of our moment. I froze, my ears straining to identify it. Voices—young, excited, and getting closer. I turned my head, my eyes scanning the shoreline, and spotted a group of boys arriving at the beach, their laughter carried on the wind.

“We should probably get out,” I whispered, my heart still racing from our kiss but now tinged with the awareness of being seen.

He nodded, pressing one last, lingering kiss to my lips before we reluctantly pulled apart. The water felt cooler as we waded back to shore, the spell of our private world slowly dissipating with each step.

Once we were out of the water, I sat on the towel, feeling the rough fabric beneath me as I tried to steady my breath. He reached for another towel and draped it over my shoulders, his touch still warm, comforting.

He stood there for a moment, his eyes lingering on me before he sat down. I looked at him, taking in the way the sunlight caught in his hair, the way his skin glistened with droplets of water. He was beautiful, devilishly beautiful, with the kind of allure that made it hard to look away. My eyes traced the lines of his back, the muscles shifting under his skin, and I found myself wishing I could write my name on it, claim him in some small, secret way.

He turned to sit down beside me, his movement breaking the spell of my thoughts. I smiled at him, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks, still flushed from both the water and what had just transpired between us.

Without thinking, I leaned my head on his shoulder, seeking the comfort of his presence. He didn’t hesitate, his arm wrapping around me as he held my hand in his. His fingers traced gentle circles on the back of my hand, the touch sending soothing waves through my body, calming the lingering adrenaline.

He leaned down, pressing a tender kiss to my forehead, his lips soft against my skin. I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the moment, feeling safe and cherished in a way I hadn’t felt in a long time.

It had been a week since that day on the beach, and I had never felt so alive, so completely consumed by happiness. Every thought, every breath, seemed to revolve around him. The world felt brighter, more vibrant, as if everything had been infused with color. I was caught in a whirlwind of emotions, and I didn’t want it to stop.

I was lying on my bed, staring at the ceiling, lost in thoughts of him, when my mother knocked softly on the door. She poked her head in, smiling.

“You’re coming, right?” she asked, her eyes warm with expectation.

I knew what she meant. I was supposed to go with her to visit her best friend, a plan that had been made long before all of this. But the thought of missing a call from Mattheo, of not seeing him today, was unbearable. I felt like I’d lose my mind if I didn’t see him, if I didn’t feel his arms around me, even for just a moment.

I sat up, giving her an apologetic smile. “No, Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t think I can. Maybe I’ll just take a nap,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t press the issue.

She looked at me for a moment, then leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Alright, sweetheart. Get some rest,” she said softly, before leaving the room.

I watched the door close behind her and sighed, sinking back onto my bed. Only half an hour had passed when my phone buzzed, and I scrambled to grab it. His name lit up the screen, and my heart skipped a beat.

“Hey, do you want to go out?” Mattheo’s voice was smooth, teasing, and I couldn’t help the smile that spread across my face.

“Of course,” I said, trying to keep the excitement out of my voice.

For the past week, we had spent almost every day together, usually at the beach. It was our place, where the world seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of us. But today, I felt a need for something different, something more.

“Can I come to your house instead?” I asked, trying to sound casual. “I can’t risk my father seeing your car… and then we can go wherever you want.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line before he answered. “Sure, wait for me at the front door.”

I didn’t question it, didn’t think much of it until I reached his house and texted him that I had arrived. As I waited, I heard voices inside—Enzo’s voice, unmistakable, and loud enough to carry through the walls. I couldn’t make out all of what he was saying, but one sentence rang out clearly: “This is a mistake, brother. This poor girl doesn’t deserve that.”

I frowned, my heart tightening with unease. But before I could process what I’d heard, Mattheo appeared, slipping into the passenger seat of my car. He leaned over, kissing me, his smile bright but somehow not reaching his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” I asked, searching his face.

“Of course, my love,” he said, brushing off my concern.

I hesitated, wanting to believe him, wanting to chase away the shadow that had settled in my chest. “Can we go to the new mall? I heard—”

He cut me off with a smile that felt forced. “I don’t like it. Too crowded. How about the beach?”

I tried to return his smile, but it didn’t come as easily as before. “We always go to the beach,” I said, watching him carefully. His eyes were distant, like his mind was somewhere else entirely.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” I asked, my voice softening.

He blinked, as if pulling himself back to the present. “Oh, nothing,” he said, his smile returning, though it still didn’t reach his eyes.

“The beach sounds good,”I said something hoping that it will make him smile as well.

he nodded, even though I knew something was off. I didn’t push it, not yet. Instead, I drove us to the beach, the familiar route doing little to ease the tension between us.

Once we arrived, the wind was soft against my skin, and the waves lapped at the shore, but the usual magic of the place felt dimmed by whatever was weighing on him. We walked in silence for a bit, the sand cool beneath our feet, until I finally couldn’t take it anymore. I stopped, turning to face him, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Mattheo,” I said, my voice a mix of concern and affection. “You know you can tell me anything, right?”

He looked down at me, his eyes searching mine as if trying to decide whether to let me in or keep me at a distance. But before he could answer, I rose onto my toes, pressing my lips to his in a kiss that was meant to chase away the darkness I saw in him.

His arms came around me, pulling me closer, and for a moment, everything else faded away. His kiss was slow, intense, as if he was trying to pour all of his unspoken thoughts into that one gesture. I felt the tension in his body, the way he held onto me like I was his anchor, keeping him from drifting into whatever storm was brewing inside him.

When we finally pulled apart, I rested my forehead against his, my breath coming in soft gasps. “I care about you,” I whispered, my fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “Whatever it is, we can face it together.”

He looked at me, his gaze softer now, though still shadowed by something I couldn’t quite name.

As I looked up, I heard a sound—a bottle hitting the ground. Both Mattheo and I turned to see Inez, a fellow Hogwarts student, standing a few feet away. She seemed startled, her eyes wide with confusion and shock as she stared at us. I wasn't close to her, but I knew she was Betty's best friend. Mattheo's reaction caught my attention; he looked tense, a mix of anger, confusion, and nervousness flashing across his face. They exchanged a look, something unspoken passing between them, before she hurried away without a word.

"Was this Inez?" I asked, breaking the silence. Mattheo nodded, still staring at the spot where she had been standing.

After that, it felt like he was with me physically, but his mind was somewhere else. The rest of the day passed in a haze, and the following day he didn’t call or text. He wasn’t at the beach, our usual spot. Worry gnawed at me, and I sent him a message.

"Hey, are you okay?" I texted, hoping for a quick response. But it went on delivered, a silent mockery of my concern.

The next day came and went, and still, there was nothing. I tried again.

"Is everything alright? Did something happen?" I sent, my anxiety growing with each unanswered message.

Another day passed, and desperation seeped into my words.

"Did I do something wrong?" I typed, my fingers trembling slightly. "Please, just let me know."

By the end of the week, my heart felt heavy with worry and fear. I sat on my bed, tears stinging my eyes as I typed out another message.

"I miss you, Mattheo. I'm afraid... Please talk to me."

As I pressed send, a sob escaped my lips, and I felt the hot tears roll down my cheeks. The silence was deafening, crushing me with its weight. I started to type again, my breath coming in shaky gasps.

"Are you ghosting me?" I wrote, my vision blurring with tears. The thought of being abandoned, of him leaving without a word, tore at my heart.

Then, it happened. I watched in horror as all my messages changed to "Seen." He had read them—every single one. But there was no response, no explanation. Just the cold, stark confirmation that he was ignoring me.

I couldn’t breathe. My chest tightened, and my vision swam. Panic surged through me, and I clutched at my throat, gasping for air. The room spun, and I felt like I was drowning in a sea of despair. My body shook as I tried to steady my breathing, but the panic was overwhelming.

Tears streamed down my face, mixing with the raw, suffocating fear that gripped me. I curled into myself, feeling utterly alone and broken. The world felt like it was collapsing around me, the silence between Mattheo and me a chasm that threatened to swallow me whole.

Something had changed. I could feel it in the air, a shift that made my skin prickle with unease. It wasn't just paranoia; there was a new intensity in the way people looked at me. Their eyes followed me, but not in a nice way. They whispered, heads bent together, glancing at me with something close to disgust. I had no idea why.

I hadn’t left the house since that day, too wrapped up in my own misery to face the world. But today, my father had insisted I go out, needing me to pick up something for my mother. Reluctantly, I agreed, knowing I couldn’t hide forever.

As I walked, a group of girls passed by, one of them, no more than fourteen, muttering just loud enough for me to hear, "A slut." My eyes widened in shock, and I turned to confront her, but she was already walking away. Why would she call me that?

Stunned, I got into my car, my hands shaking slightly. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being watched, judged. Instead of heading home, I found myself driving towards the beach, seeking the familiar comfort of the waves and sand.

When I arrived, I parked the car and stepped out, the salty air filling my lungs. I knew he wouldn’t be here, but still, I felt a pull towards our place. As I walked, I noticed groups of people scattered along the shore. And then, it started again—the whispers, the sideways glances, the expressions of disdain.

“What are you doing here, Y/N? Searching for someone else's man to steal?” Martha Grey, one of my classmates, called out, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She clung to her boyfriend’s arm protectively, her eyes narrowed at me.

“What?” I asked, bewildered. The accusation hit me like a slap, leaving me reeling.

“Would you fuck single boys, Y/N, or just the taken ones?” a boy sneered, stepping so close that I almost stumbled back.

“She’s shameless,” another girl muttered, loud enough for me to hear.

“Homewrecker,” someone else hissed.

“A whore with no shame.”

“Slut.”

“Ugly bitch.”

“You really have the nerve to show your face after what you did?”

“Cheap.”

“Who does she think she is? I mean, look at her and look at Betty. Did Mattheo lose his mind?”

“Trash.”

“Did you think you could just get away with it?”

“Desperate for attention, aren’t you?”

“I guess she’ll do anything for a bit of male attention.”

“Pathetic.”

“She’s just a desperate little thing.”

“Doesn’t she have any self-respect?”

“She’ll never be as good as Betty.”

“I heard she practically threw herself at him.”

“Mattheo probably just felt sorry for her.”

“She’s disgusting.”

I stood there, frozen, as the insults kept coming, each one slicing through me like a blade. My ears rang with their harsh words, my vision blurring with unshed tears. I wanted to scream, to run, to hide. But my legs felt like they were glued to the ground, and all I could do was stand there and take it.

Why were they saying these things? What had I done to deserve this? The pain in my chest tightened, making it hard to breathe. I felt like I was being suffocated, drowning in their hatred and contempt. All I wanted was to disappear, to escape the nightmare that my life had suddenly become.

"Can't believe she had the nerve to come here."

"She probably thinks she's some sort of seductress."

"More like a desperate wannabe."

"Does she really think she stands a chance against Betty?"

"Mattheo's way out of her league, it's embarrassing."

"Honestly, it's pathetic."

"She should just disappear, no one wants her around."

My heart sank with each word, each cruel remark cutting deeper than the last. The weight of their scorn was suffocating, and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I had no idea what they were talking about or why they were so angry with me. The confusion and hurt were overwhelming, and I could feel a panic attack rising in my chest, the world spinning around me.

Someone's voice broke through the barrage of insults. “I’m glad Betty forgave him and didn’t let this ugly slut destroy what they have.”

With that, I walked away, the words still echoing in my ears. Their taunts didn't stop even as I put my hands over my ears, trying to block them out. They always said I was too sensitive, too weak. I was used to those words, but this wasn't something I felt like I could handle. Their attention, their eyes on me, their words—those words.

I walked faster to my car, closing the doors and windows before bursting into tears. How I managed to drive, almost crashing several times, I didn’t know. My body felt cold, shaking, and numb as I finally reached his house. The way to the door felt like forever.

With a shaking hand, I knocked weakly, hoping someone would hear it. The door opened, and even through my tears, I could see it was Enzo.

“Y/N, oh Merlin,” he said, trying to comfort me, but I flinched.

“It’s okay,” he said gently, stepping aside to let me in.

I walked in and saw Mattheo sitting on the couch. His eyes widened as he stood up quickly.

“You said you broke up,” I said, my voice trembling. No, he said it was over, nothing about a breakup, I corrected myself. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“We were on a break,” he said, his expression a mix of guilt and confusion.

“You said you broke up with her,” I repeated, more to myself than him.

“We were on a break,” he said again.

“That’s not the same thing,” I said, taking a deep breath. “Not the same thing,” I repeated.

“You lied to me, you ghosted me, and you... you went and—and—” I didn't even know how to finish the sentence.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” he said, his voice softer.

I felt like passing out, but I blinked the tears away and asked, “You didn’t?”

“No, Y/N, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” he said. Was it me? Did I really throw myself at him? No, no, no, I didn’t— You kissed him first, my mind said. But on the cheek, I argued back. Keep telling yourself that, it sneered. No, he did.

I was losing my mind.

“Chase two girls, lose the one, right?” I said, tears falling heavily. “And it wasn’t even me. I’m not the one It wasn’t even my story.”

“Y/N,” he tried, but I cut him off.

“Please don’t say my name. Please don’t try to explain anything,” I said, feeling like I was about to collapse if not for Enzo’s hands supporting me.

“You did that. I had no idea it was you, but no one is pointing their fingers at you. No one is calling you the things they are calling me. No one is saying it was your fault or calling you an ugly bitch. No one is calling you a homewrecker, so don’t—don’t explain anything,” I said, and they were looking at me. I wanted to scream at him, they were looking at me now because of you.

Mattheo stepped closer, but Enzo shook his head at him.

“Everything is back to its place now. August is already over,” I said. Yes, everything is back to its place except for me. Nothing is the same, nothing will ever be the same.

I pulled away from Enzo and walked to the door, stepping out of the house.

“Y/N, wait,” Enzo called, but I ignored him and walked to my car.

“Let me drive you home, please. You can’t go like that,” he said, and I shook my head.

“Y/N, please,” he pleaded, but I kept shaking my head.

I got into my car, closing the doors. He looked at me with sympathy, and I felt bad for shutting him out like that. But I should feel bad for myself, for what his brother did to me, for what he knew was happening but didn’t tell me.

I saw him get into his car. My hands were shaking, my vision blurred as I started to drive. Enzo’s car followed behind, making sure I made it home.

I got out of the car once I reached my house, not even looking back, not having the energy.

I stepped into my house, the quiet enveloping me like a shroud. I walked to my room, but stopped short when I saw my parents standing inside. They turned to look at me, and my father’s eyes were filled with a cold anger.

"What is this?" he demanded, holding the red wine bottle in his hand.

The sight of it brought more tears to my eyes. If that night hadn’t happened, if I hadn’t found Mattheo, if I hadn’t helped him...

"What is it?" my father repeated, his voice rising. "Shame, shame on you."

"Give it back to me," I said, trying to take the bottle from his hands. My mother, knowing better, tried to step between us, but he pushed her away.

"I said, give it back!" I yelled, and then I felt it—pain, sharp and hot, as his hand struck my cheek. He hit me again.

I screamed and lunged at him, trying to wrest the bottle from his grip. He struggled, but didn’t fall.

"Give it back, give it back, give it back to me!" I cried, hitting his chest, my nails scratching at his hands, anything I could reach. He grabbed my hair, and something inside me snapped.

Enough—enough. I’ve had enough.

I started hitting him in the chest, my nails digging into his skin. He was shocked, and I didn’t stop.

"Get out! Get out! We hate you! We don’t want you! Get out!" I screamed.

My nails raked his hands again, trying to get the bottle.

"Don’t you dare put your hands on me or Mother again! I will use my wand. I will cast a spell on you to torture you. I don’t care! I don’t care about the consequences! Get out!" I screamed, and finally, he released his grip. The bottle fell to the ground, shattering into pieces.

He stumbled out of the room, then out of the house. I fell to my knees, touching the broken shards, crying hard.

My mother knelt down, trying to pull me away. "No, no," I said.

"It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll clean it up," she said, but I panicked.

"You can’t. You can’t, please, no," I said, my fingers bleeding as I touched the pieces.

"It wasn’t mine," I said, though I knew I wasn’t just talking about the bottle.

"It wasn’t mine, Mother. It wasn’t mine," I repeated, crying even harder. "It wasn’t mine to lose. It wasn’t mine to lose."

She finally managed to pull my bleeding hands away and hugged me tightly. I cried into her arms, sobbing for Mattheo, for myself, for everything that had gone wrong.

The rest of the summer passed in a blur of anguish and solitude. I found myself on the Hogwarts Express, not knowing how I was going to face the coming year. It didn't stop—the whispers, the sidelong glances, the barely concealed disdain. They had finally notified me that there was no coming back from this. Their eyes found me, and they whispered, not caring whether their words were good or bad. I was sure they were bad.

The journey to Hogwarts felt faster than ever, though I knew it wasn't. It was just that I dreaded every moment, and that dread made time fly. When the train finally stopped, I got out, trying to stay out of sight as much as possible.

As we reached the castle, I saw her—Betty. She stood there, as pretty as always. Unlike the others, her eyes held sympathy, and I hated that. I wanted Betty to give me a reason to hate her, but she couldn't. She was like an angel on earth, everything I wasn’t and could never be.

I walked inside, ignoring everything around me. I didn’t care which house the first years were going to be sorted into, even though I had always loved that part. Not this time. This time, I just wanted to hide.

Then I saw him—Mattheo. Our eyes met for a brief second before he looked away, walking past me as if I didn’t exist. Maybe I didn’t anymore, at least not for him. I didn’t have to look back to see where he was going; I already knew. So, I just walked to my dorm, feeling more invisible than ever.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

#slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #slytherin boys x you #mattheo riddle angst #mattheo riddle x reader #mattheo riddle x you #mattheo riddle fluff #mattheoriddle #mattheo riddle imagine #mattheo smut #mattheo riddle imagines #mattheo riddle smut #mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle masterlist #mattheo x you

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luveline · 4 months ago

Note

Hii, I absolutely love your Hotch fics in which he meets his adult daughter. Could we get one in which she is feeling down about something and he helps/reassures her?💕💕

It’s difficult to foster a relationship with someone when you don’t get to see them. Even harder when the relationship is with your father who didn’t know you existed for over two decades, and who works as a Special Agent in the FBI, spending half of his life in other states.

Lately it feels impossible.

He’s just never home. When he is, he can't make it to dinner. You start to feel exactly as you had before you knew him, alone again, working hard to keep up in class, drained from your part time job, and always tired.

You should stay home and sleep, but tonight, your dad is free for dinner.

You wait on the corner of the street in the golden light of the restaurant. It’s chilly out, and the sky is slowly darkening. You watch the road for the shape and bulk of Aaron’s SUV, relieved to see him on the way past. He parks in the parking lot, making a small stop into the trunk of the car before he makes his way toward you.

He’s carrying a little white teddy bear wrapped in pink heart cellophane.

You know it’s for you, but it’s still sweet enough to surprise you when he smiles at you and encourages it into your hands. “Hello,” he says, wrapping one arm around you quickly as he kisses your cheek.

It’s always a shock, but never unwelcome.

“Hi, Aaron.”

“Let’s go in, yes?” he asks. “It’s too cold to stay out here. Were you waiting a long time?”

You let him walk you to the entrance, where he gives his name to the hostess for the reservation, and together you follow her to a small table near a bay window. The trees outside are strung with tea lights. The restaurant smells like nutty chocolate ganache. You mentioned that you liked the desserts here the first time he brought you, and he’s continued to bring you here ever since.

You are undoubtedly getting to know one another. You’ve met Haley three times, and Jack five. You had dinner together only two weeks ago where he tried to show you how to keep spaghetti on your fork while failing to manage it himself. He was sweet, and Aaron was really good with him.

You’d been jealous.

“What’s the bear for?” you ask.

“I’m trying to buy your forgiveness. Is it working?”

You laugh without thinking. “My forgiveness?”

“Sometimes, when I don’t see Jack for a long time, he gets frosty with me. I know it’s poor parenting but I’ll bring home a souvenir in the hopes he won’t stay mad.”

“This is a souvenir?” you ask.

He sits with good posture, but his face is ducked apologetically. It’s a kind sort of look, like he really is sorry. “I think I owe you more than that.”

This regret he’s expressed before. You truly believe that he wishes he could go back in time and be there for you, which might be why it aches to think about it in detail. He wanted to be the loving, doting father. He just didn’t get the chance.

“It sort of… breaks my heart sometimes, when I see you,” you say.

It’s a lot. You haven’t even ordered your drinks.

“It does?” he asks gently.

“I wish…” You bite the inside of your cheek. Shake your head when you can’t finish.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I think about it a lot. I resent your mother.”

She’s your mother, but yes. “I do, too.”

You listen to the clatter of the kitchen somewhere deep in the building and the indistinguishable chatter of other families and dates where they sit around you. Your hand closes tightly on a napkin.

“Are you okay? You look tired, honey.”

“Must be a Hotchner thing,” you say.

He laughs like you haven’t just slighted him. “It definitely is. I’m getting the sense that you’re upset about more than your mother, though.”

“How would you know?” you ask genuinely.

It’s his party trick. You’re expecting a rundown: your hand moves a quarter inch to the left and shows your upset, or your nose twitches to betray your true feelings. But he doesn’t need to use his special set of agent skills on you tonight.

“You won’t look at me for very long. It’s exactly like your brother.”

You sniff ineffectually. “It is?”

He looks especially solemn, then. “I wish we didn’t miss out on so much with each other, but I’m here now, if you want me. You can tell me what’s bothering you. I promise I’ll listen.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’ve always heard worse.” He manages a smile. “Not that what you’re feeling isn’t important.”

“Well, I… it’s mostly the little things. You know school is hard.”

“At GWU? It’s gruelling.”

“It’s awful. I probably need a tutor.” You laugh. “Maybe. It’s not so bad, and once this year is over, I’m done, but I have my internship lined up for the summer, so I’m trying very hard to– to work as much as I can now. But working and studying all the time makes me tired.” Your cheeks heat at having spilled it all without finesse. “Sorry, I know you work twenty three hours a day.”

“How many hours are you working a week?” he asks.

“Uh, usually twenty-four. I try to do three shifts a week. Sometimes they want me after school, so it’s more like twenty-nine or thirty-four.” Or forty-four.

“And you’re studying–”

“Every spare minute.”

He nods thoughtfully. “I’m sorry. It sounds hard…”

“What?” you ask.

“I’m just thinking about something.” He licks his lips. “And you’ve always worked? Since high school?”

Your flush worsens. “Yeah. I have to pay for school somehow, and to eat.” You quieten.

“What if you didn’t have to work, honey?”

You shake your head vehemently. “Aaron.”

“I’m serious. What if you didn’t have to do so much? You need time to do nothing. Overworking yourself will give you an ulcer, trust me, and that’s the last thing I want. I could–”

“I can’t take your money–”

“It’s not just my money. Does Jack ‘take’ my money?”

“You signed up for Jack–”

“And I’m signed up for you. I want to be here for you, and this is what father’s do, okay? If they can, and I can.”

“Unnecessary brag.”

He ignores your joke. “Even if I could just pay for GWU. I know those textbooks are burning a hole in your pocket.”

You refuse. Aaron promises to return to the subject when you aren’t exhausted, and maybe you’ll let him. It would be beautiful to wake up on a Saturday with nothing to do.

It would be nice not to miss your dad. You’ve done it your whole life, but now he’s real, and he seems to really care about you. When he hugs you after he’s paid for dinner, you want to be allowed to cling, and, as he tightens his hold, you realise you are.

“It’s so good to see you,” he says, rubbing your upper arm.

“Yeah,” you mumble.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

You ease back. “Really?” Because you hadn’t mentioned that you missed him, but he already knows.

He pats your arm. “You know I’d see you every day, if I could? I’ve missed out on enough already. We’ll take Jack to Olive Garden again and you can think a bit more on what I proposed.”

“I can’t take your money,” you repeat quietly.

“Not that, though you should. You can tell me anything, okay?”

You breathe out as he steps away. “Okay.”

He touches your cheek briefly. “Okay. I’m proud of you. You’re doing great.”

“Thanks, Aaron.”

“You’re welcome. Text me when you get home safe, all right?”

You look at him for too long. “Thank you,” you say again, moving in for another hug.

He props his head atop yours carefully. “You’re welcome, honey.”

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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sunsburns · 4 months ago

Text

fallen fruit

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x reader

summary: you and eric go on a supply run to help aid the mother and her child at your safe spot, where dozens of other survivors are hiding. it isn't too far of a journey, and travelling in groups is better than alone, however, when the military starts bombing the bridges in new york city, the two of you are forced to go into hiding after being chased by a death angel.

—or: you're being hunted by a death angel

word count: 1.8k+

contains: angst, horror elements, alien invasion, the-end-of-the-world kind of scenario, blood, graphic gore & violence, injury, tending to wounds, kinda intimate

author’s note: got a lot of requests for eric and i'm bouncing off the walls with excitement yayaya!!! anyways i'm killing two birds with one stone with this one since this is based on this request and this one!

They've started bombing the bridges.

You and Eric had ventured out on a supply run for food, hoping to bring back something for the mother and her baby you were hiding with. Fighter jets roar through the skies, their engines a deafening sound of impending doom.

The ground shakes violently with each explosion.

The monsters below, drawn to the cacophony, scramble chaotically, their massive forms casting monstrous shadows against the darkening, orange-tinged sky.

The city is plunged into chaos once more as the explosions ripple through the air, sending shockwaves down the deserted streets, the military making a desperate bid to contain the aliens. The once-bustling bridges of New York are now targets, their obliteration aimed at preventing the spread of the monsters, trapping them in the islands.

The monsters can't swim, the authorities have been broadcasting that for hours, and patrol helicopters circle periodically. But the creatures' relentless pursuit on land paints a grim picture to the people who are trapped with them.

You and Eric move quickly, ducking into narrow alleyways and through crumbling abandoned buildings, always staying vigilant and out of sight. The sounds of explosions reverberate around you, and your heart hammers in your chest, adrenaline propelling you forward even as fear gnaws at your insides.

Every step is fraught with tension, the city's eerie silence punctuated by distant roars and the relentless thudding of your own heartbeat. The glow from the fires casts an otherworldly hue over the desolate streets, transforming familiar landmarks into sinister silhouettes.

Eric glances back at you, his face a mask of determination and barely concealed fear. Despite the terror coursing through you, you draw strength from his presence, a silent promise that you will protect each other no matter what. The bond between you feels unbreakable, forged in the crucible of shared danger and whispered confidences in the dark.

Suddenly, a deafening explosion tears through the air, the ground beneath you trembling violently. You both stumble, barely keeping your balance as the shockwave reverberates through the streets.

The nearby bridge finally collapses in a plume of fire and debris, the impact sending a massive cloud of dust and smoke billowing into the air. The monsters react instantly, their shrieks piercing the commotion of destruction.

A stampede of the creatures surges through the city, their massive forms silhouetted against the fiery skies. They leap from building to building with alarming agility, their claws tearing through concrete and metal as if it were paper. The sheer speed and ferocity of their movement send waves of panic crashing through you.

Eric grabs your hand, his grip firm and reassuring. "Run!" you whisper over the noise, and he doesn't need to be told twice. The two of you sprint together, weaving through the debris-laden streets as you desperately search for shelter. Your heart pounds in your chest, each beat echoing the chaos around you. The air is thick with smoke and the smell of burning.

One of the monsters, massive and swift, barrels through the alley behind you, knocking over everything in its path. The ground shakes with each of its steps, the noise deafening. You glance over your shoulder, eyes widening in horror as it closes the distance. Panic surges through you, lending speed to your legs.

A fire escape, dislodged by the creature's brute force, comes crashing down with a deafening clang. The metal twists and bends as it falls, and you both duck instinctively. Desperate, You push yourself harder, lungs burning as you sprint toward the faintly glowing orange street lights ahead.

But in the chaos, your footing slips. Eric's hand, slick with sweat, slips from yours as you suddenly drop to the ground. Pain explodes in your leg as one of the rusty staircases from the fire escape crashes heavily on top of it.

A scream of agony tears from your throat before you can stop it, the sound raw and desperate. You bite down hard, trying to stifle the noise, but the agony is excruciating. You look down at your leg, and even in the darkness you can see that something is wrong—the unnatural angle, the blood soaking into the fabric of your pants.

The monster pauses, its head whipping around at the sound.

Eric's eyes widen in terror. He skids to a halt, eyes sweeping with horror as he realizes what's happened. He drops to his knees beside you, his hands shaking as he covers your mouth, his own breathing ragged with fear. "Shhh, please, you have to stay quiet," he whispers, his voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart and the pained groan that slips from you, muffled by his hands.

The creature sniffs the air, its head tilting as it listens.

You can feel its presence, a looming shadow of death inching closer, its low growl reverberating through the narrow alley. The scent of your blood in the air draws it nearer, each step making your heart race faster.

You feel as if your entire body is aflame, the pain in your leg mingling with the terror gripping your heart. Eric holds you closely, his trembling hands gentle but firm, a lifeline amid chaos.

The tears finally break free, rolling down your cheeks and wetting his hands. He holds you tighter, his own fear palpable, but his determination unwavering. "I'm here," he mouths against the shell of your ear, "I'm not leaving you."

Its footsteps grow louder, and you can spot its shadow against the brick wall, inching closer, its low growl coming deep within it.

The seconds stretch into an eternity, each heartbeat echoing like a drum in your ears. The creature's claws scrape against the ground, the sound sending shivers down your spine.

Finally, drawn by the louder sounds of the explosions, it moves on, leaving you both in a shaken silence.

The moment it’s gone, Eric scrambles to help pull you out from under the metal. He shakes with effort, his muscles straining, and you’re scrambling to get out from under it once he lifts it high enough for you to move. You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood as he finally frees your leg. The pain is blinding, but you hold back any sound, tears streaming down your face.

The broken glass beneath you shifts quietly with your movements, and Eric tries his hardest to lower the railing back to the ground without making a sound. His breath comes in short, ragged gasps, and he glances nervously at the shadows, every small noise making him flinch.

Eric helps you to your feet, his arm around your waist supporting your weight. Together, you move as quickly as you can, each step sending fresh waves of pain through your leg. You lean heavily on him, your breaths coming in short, pained bursts as you feel blood rolling down your leg, soaking your sock and shoe.

His grip stays firm, urging you to stay with him a little longer.

You duck into a nearby building that offers some semblance of shelter. The air inside is stale, and the dim light barely illuminates the scattered debris.

Once inside, Eric lowers you gently to the ground, his face pale and drawn. He crouches beside you, his hands brushing your hair from your face.

His breath trembles as he looks at you, then your leg, a silent plea for you to let him help.

You nod, giving him the permission he seeks.

Eric carefully rolls up the bottom of your pants, revealing a long gash on your calf where blood steadily seeps out along with his quiet and panicked mutters of 'okay, okay, okay'.

He examines your leg, his hands gentle but efficient, his fingers trembling slightly as he works. You see the worry in his eyes, the fear that mirrors your own.

Eric looks up at you with sad eyes rimmed with pity. The silence between you speaks volumes, a shared understanding of the dire situation. You want to tell him to leave you there, that you would only slow him down before he could get back to the safe spot where you had been hiding with other survivors, but the words catch in your throat.

He starts to tear a strip from his own pants, creating a makeshift tourniquet to wrap around your injured leg. The pain is fierce, but his touch is soothing.

He then reaches into the small backpack you had been carrying, pulling out some of the supplies you had gathered for the mother and her baby. He uses a small bottle of antiseptic to clean the wound, his movements careful and precise. The sting is sharp and you bite your lip, trying to focus on his face rather than the pain.

Eric’s eyes never leave yours, and in them, you see the depth of his concern, the unspoken promise that he won’t let anything happen to you. He uses a cloth to gently dab at the wound, his touch light but sure. Despite the agony, you trust into his presence, seeking comfort in his closeness.

As he works, you find yourself leaning closer to Eric, your need for comfort outweighing the pain. He lets you rest your head against him, holding you steady as he finishes bandaging your leg. His breath is warm against your hair, his heartbeat a steady rhythm beneath your cheek.

Eric finishes tending to your leg and looks up, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

Without thinking, he leans in, his lips brushing yours in a tender, desperate kiss. It’s quick, almost hesitant, but it sends a rush of warmth through you, momentarily distracting you from the pain. He pulls back, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection, but you smile weakly, the gesture enough to reassure him.

You move closer, cupping his face with your hands. You press your lips to his again, this time with more urgency, pouring all your fear, relief, and gratitude into the kiss. It's deeper, filled with the unspoken words and emotions that have been building between you.

Eric responds in kind, his arms wrapping around you, pulling you closer. The kiss is a promise, a shared understanding that in this world turned upside down, you have each other.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you rest your forehead against his, the connection between you more palpable than ever.

The chaos outside is relentless, but here, in this moment, there is a quiet familiarity between you. Eric's fingers brush against your cheek, and you lean into his touch, finding solace in the warmth of his company.

In the silence that follows, you rest your head against his shoulder, the day's horrors fading into the background. Eric's hand strokes your hair gently, and you find yourself relaxing into his touch.

The world outside may be falling apart, but here there is a flicker of hope, a promise of survival forged in the bond between you. The air is filled with the distant sounds of chaos, but within this small sanctuary, there is a sense of peace, a momentary reprieve from the nightmare outside.

You take a deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of Eric's chest beneath your head. His presence is a grounding force, a reminder that you are not alone in this.

There is a flicker of hope, a promise of survival forged.

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#here i go again #eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place #joseph quinn #a quiet place day one #joseph quinn fandom #joseph quinn x reader #eric x reader #eric x you #eric a quiet place x reader #eric a quiet place day one x you #eric a quiet place x you #a quiet place #eric aqpdo #eric aqpdo x reader #eric aqpdo x you

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nats--sw · 5 months ago

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Gold chain (pt4) | Leah Williamson

You and Leah finally met up again, nerves and laughter mixing as you both tried to hide how excited you were. warnings: just fluff and slow burn pt1 pt5 my masterlist

Leah had been glued to her phone all morning and part of the afternoon. She’d gotten used to it over the past few days, anxiously waiting for a message or call from you. The last interaction had been the previous night, when Leah tried calling you a couple of times after hearing about your elimination at Berlin. She hadn't been successful; you had rejected all the calls. Even though you were a bit calmer by then, you didn't want to feel or hear Leah's sympathy. Not yet.

At least you left her a goodnight message, saying you were trying to process the tough day you'd had. But that wasn’t enough for Leah. She needed more than a brief text; she wanted to hear your voice, to know you were really okay. The waiting and worrying were driving her crazy, and she kept checking her phone, hoping for a sign that you were ready to talk.

At least the photo shoot that morning had kept Leah busy for a couple of hours, providing a brief distraction from her constant worry. But she knew that once she got home, she'd be checking her phone again, hoping to hear from you.

She had just said goodbye to her staff and was about to get in her car when her phone started buzzing. Without even checking to see if it was you, she quickly got into the car and felt a wave of relief when she saw your name pop up in her notifications.

Her relief turned to confusion when she opened the message and saw a picture of the front of Emirates Stadium.

"This is the famous home of London's biggest club?"

"I asked a guy and he said I was wrong, that I should go west."

"Isn't this Stamford Bridge?"

Leah bit her lip to keep from smiling. She was getting more and more used to your quirky sense of humor and sarcastic comments.

"You're into comedy now?" Leah quickly typed into her phone, not yet getting what was going on.

"You wish."

Before Leah could respond, another photo popped up, immediately followed by a message.

"Do you think if I ask for it they'll give it to me?" The picture showed a huge banner with Leah's face on it.

"I'm a big fan."

That's when it hit her. Were you really in London? Already? You were just playing in a tournament in Germany yesterday.

Leah looked out the window of her car, seeing the same sky that was starting to darken, just like in the photo you had sent.

"What the hell? You're here?"

Leah couldn't hold back her excitement. Without waiting for your reply, she dialed your number. Without waiting for your reply, she called you. As the phone rang, she started her car and plugged in her phone.

"Hello?" Leah could hear the smile in your voice.

"I can't believe it," Leah said, nervously running a hand through her hair.

"What? That I'm your fan?"

"I already knew that," Leah replied, pulling out of the parking lot. "Stay where you are, I'm like twenty minutes away."

"Make it fifteen."

Leah became a bundle of nerves as soon as she got out of her car. This was only the second time you’d be seeing each other in person, and the first time alone. She walked around for a while, until she finally spotted you taking pictures. Feeling awkward and unsure of how to approach, she was glad your back was turned.

Leah opened her mouth to say your name, but nothing came out

This time was different from the first. You knew each other now, had chatted about all sorts of things, and shared some nice moments over video calls. You weren’t strangers anymore.

Meanwhile, you were completely unaware of Leah behind you, busy taking pictures. Satisfied with your shots, you stepped back and bumped into someone. You turned quickly, ready to apologize (or snap if it was some weirdo). But like Leah, you were left speechless.

Neither of you said anything at first, the tension thick in the air. Leah’s nervous smile matched yours, and you couldn’t help but let out a nervous laugh.

Leah thought your laughter was even more contagious in person than over the phone, and she immediately started laughing too.

"What are you doing standing there like a stalker?" you asked once you both calmed down a bit.

"Actually, by standing here I'm protecting you from any stalkers."

"Woah, how gentlemanly of you," you said with a grin.

"Yeah, I know," Leah replied, flashing a smile. She held your gaze, looking down at you since you were only slightly shorter than her.

"Don't look at me like that," you said, laughing nervously again and giving her a gentle nudge on the shoulder.

"I’m making you nervous?" Leah asked, genuinely curious. She had seen you go through other emotions before, but had never seen you nervous. The two of you had shared so many video calls, but this was different.

"Yes," you admitted, shoving your hands into your pockets. You glanced around and wrinkled your nose. "This is your place... it's a little intimidating, realizing how big you are here and what your image represents. I hadn't really taken it all in until now."

Leah tilted her head slightly, trying to understand. "What do you mean?"

"You," you said, looking back at her. "You're not just Leah to everyone here. You're a big deal. Talking to you has been... Well, like I’m just talking to Leah. But now that I'm here, seeing everything with your face in it, it's like, 'Whoa, this is who I've been staying up all week chatting with.'"

Leah felt a warmth in her chest at your words. She never thought of herself that way.

"I don't think it's anything to make a big deal about," Leah replied, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

"Of course not, Captain Williamson," you retorted, rolling your eyes. Leah's body trembled slightly at your playful jab.

"Well, you're a big deal to me too, you know. And right now, I’m just Leah." Leah continued. "I've seen your face on giant billboards too, you know."

You were about to respond, but Leah turned to you with a raised eyebrow.

"Where are you staying?"

"Ah," you chuckled, noticing the not-so-subtle change in topic. "I have a room booked at one of the downtown hotels."

"Are you with your team?"

"No, we're taking a few days off," you said, avoiding mention of yesterday's dressing room incident, which had caused the current situation. Nor did you want to bring up your recent appointment with your therapist a couple of hours ago.

"So I assume you messaged me because you got lost and don't know how to get back to your hotel?" Leah asked, heading back towards where she had parked her car.

"Actually, yes," you lied. You knew your way around London, but Leah didn't need to know that. "I just didn't feel like going straight back to the hotel, so I've been wandering around all afternoon."

"And you still don't want to go back?"

"I just don't want to be alone."

"Can I suggest something?"

You smiled at Leah's offer.

The drive to Leah's house was quiet, mostly because halfway there you had drifted off to sleep. It had been a long day, or rather, two long days: the morning flight, the session with your psychologist, the extensive walk around town, and everything that had transpired the day before. It was a lot to handle in such a short span of time.

Leah's car smelled like her, a comforting scent that started to ease your stress. She knew when to stay silent, creating a soothing vibe that made relaxation inevitable.

As you slept, however, Leah couldn't shake a bit of guilt. Maybe you just needed to rest, and here she was, possibly dragging you along to plans that might not even interest you.

When you woke up after she parked outside her house, Leah turned to you with a gentle concern in her eyes.

"Are you awake now?" she asked softly. "I can drop you back at your hotel if you'd rather." she offered, still buckled into her seatbelt, confident that you'd want to leave.

"What?" you mumbled, sitting up straight and blinking to clear the sleep from your eyes.

"You look exhausted, Y/n," she said softly, her voice carrying a hint of worry. Her gaze was gentle, trying to read the emotions behind your tired face.

"I'm just exhausted, but I know I won't feel any better alone in that hotel, believe me," you said, trying to reassure her and convince her it wasn't a bad idea.

Leah's concern deepened as she took in your tired demeanor. After a few moments of contemplation, she took a deep breath as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

"Well, let's go then," she said softly, her voice carrying a touch of warmth.

Leah's home wrapped around you with a scent even more intense than the scent of her car. The place had a cozy charm.

"I wasn't expecting a guest, so if you find anything strange, just ignore it, please," Leah chuckled nervously as she led the way inside.

"It's lovely," you grinned, following her inside. It was fascinating to explore the place you had only seen through a screen before.

"Thank you," Leah said, heading towards her kitchen. "Are you hungry?"

If someone had told you a few weeks ago that you'd be at Leah Williamson's house, sitting down to a hearty meal of potato smiley faces and chicken nuggets, you would have probably raised an eyebrow in disbelief.

"Is this your idea of gourmet food?" you chuckled, eyeing your plate—it looked straight out of a children's menu.

"Absolutely," Leah said with a grin, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine. "I did promise to treat you, after all."

The cozy kitchen and Leah's relaxed demeanor made you feel at ease.

"Well, you basically dragged me along."

"Hey, don't put it like that," said Leah pouting. "I gave you the option of taking you back to your hotel."

"I'm just messing with you, Leah," you said with a laugh, gently taking the bottle of wine from her hands to pour the glasses. "But seriously, this dinner is going to be a memory I'll cherish."

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said, narrowing her eyes playfully.

"No, I'm serious," you replied warmly. "It's actually kind of sweet. I've never had this before."

"I just had to toss the potatoes on a tray, you know?" she said, chuckling softly, brushing off any praise.

"Come on, just take the compliment, Leah."

Leah chuckled softly and settled into the chair across from you, taking a bite of a potato with a thoughtful expression."So... Can I ask why you're here?"

"You invited me," you replied casually, flashing a grin.

"I'm not talking about that..."

"Ah," you replied casually, popping a nugget into your mouth. "I just had a bit of a breakdown... they're making me take these days off now, which I'm actually enjoying a lot," you admitted, locking eyes with Leah. "I've been in therapy the whole year, having regular sessions, but it's been weeks since I last talked to my therapist. Well, until today.”

"And? How did your session go?"

“Well… I’m definitely drained, that’s for sure,” you admitted with a sigh, setting down your glass of wine. “We talked a lot about managing stress and pressure, trying to find new ways to cope.”

Leah nodded sympathetically, her gaze steady on you. "It sounds tough."

"Yeah, it is," you admitted, running a hand through your hair. "But I think I'm making progress. It's just taking time, but I'm starting to figure out how to handle all the pressure"

"I'm glad you're taking care of yourself, it's important. You can talk to me too, I also know what it's like to live surrounded by pressure constantly. Maybe it’s not the same but-”

“It is,” you said with a smile, gratefully at her gesture. "Thanks, Leah. It means a lot.”

After finishing, you both moved the talk to the couch, ready to open another bottle of wine.

"You know what?” you said, sinking into the cushions and stretching out your legs comfortably “I'd love to watch you play football sometime."

Leah chuckled, settling beside you and pouring wine into glasses. "Really? You think I'd impress you on the field?"

"You never know," you teased, nudging her playfully. "It would be fun to see another side of you."

"I thought you'd rather watch Chelsea," Leah said with a mischievous grin, her feet up on the couch, almost brushing against yours.

Both of you were clearly enjoying the evening, the warmth of the wine adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

"I can always watch you when you're playing against Chelsea," you replied with a playful smirk.

Leah fell silent for a moment, her gaze drifting away before she asked softly, "And who would you support?"

"Don't you remember I'm your biggest fan?" you replied with a smile, reaching out to gently touch her hand. "Of course, I'd support you. I mean it, I'd love to see you out there on the field, doing what you love”

Leah's cheeks flushed again, a mix of embarrassment and something warmer she couldn't quite name. She hoped you would attribute it to the wine rather than your words.

"My head is starting to hurt," Leah murmured, her words slightly rushed as she tried to distract herself. "Would you mind staying here? But if you want I can call a-"

"Of course not," you reassured her with a grin, trying to lighten the mood. You leaned back, already feeling a bit dizzy from the wine's effects. "Or am I not allowed to stay?" you teased with a playful smile.

You were beginning to enjoy how flustered Leah was getting, it was adorable that she didn't seem to realize her feelings might be mutual. Unless you were completely misreading all her signals, there was a palpable tension between you.

"I'll get the guest room ready for you then," Leah said softly,a slight stumble in her step as she headed towards the room.

The next morning, Leah woke to the sound of your phone ringing from the other room. Rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, she tiptoed barefoot out of her own bedroom and quietly made her way across the hallway to the guest room. Pushing the door open gently, Leah's heart fluttered as she found you under the covers, peacefully asleep.

Leah glanced at the screen and recognized your coach's name flashing on your phone.

"Y/n," she whispered in a hushed tone, gently shaking your shoulder to wake you. "Your phone," she urged, giving you a firmer shake this time.

The ringing stopped just as your eyes blinked open, adjusting slowly to the morning light.

"Huh?" you said, a little disoriented by the strange room. You turned towards Leah, her face soft and concerned. It took you a few seconds to remember why you were there. "Leah- Good morning" you said quickly, a little embarrassed, straightening up in bed.

"Your phone," Leah repeated, her voice soft as she tried to get your attention, but you were too distracted. Now fully awake, you couldn't help but notice Leah standing there in just sweatpants and a bra

Leah looked a little puzzled as your mouth hung open and your eyes slowly trailed down from her face to the rest of her body. It was then that she realized she hadn't bothered to put on a shirt before waking you up.

"Good morning," you repeated quickly, pulling your gaze away with a faint blush creeping up your cheeks.

"I wouldn't mind waking up like this more often," you thought to yourself, a slight grin tugging at your lips.

"I'm sorry," Leah apologized, unsure exactly what she was apologizing for. "Your phone was ringing, and you just wouldn't wake up."

"I'm a heavy sleeper," you mumbled, rubbing your face sleepily. The thought of staying in bed longer was tempting.

"Maybe it was important. You should check... while I get breakfast ready," Leah suggested before stepping out of the room.

When you entered the kitchen, you couldn't help but pout slightly upon seeing Leah now wearing a shirt. She stood at the stove, her back turned as she hummed a soft tune.

You couldn't resist the urge to approach her quietly, your heart fluttering with a mix of anticipation and affection. You tiptoed closer and gently rested your chin on her shoulder.

"What are you cooking?" you whispered softly, surprised by how calmly Leah received your presence.

"An omelet," Leah replied, her attention fully on not burning the omelet. "Do you like them?"

"Yeah, it smells good," you replied.

You fell silent again as Leah flipped the omelet.

"You smell good," she said casually, her attention still on the pan, showing no sign of embarrassment.

"I haven't showered yet," you blurted out, feeling yourself blush. It was nice to hear such words, even in that context.

"You ruined the moment," Leah teased, a smile playing on her lips as she shook her head and gently nudged you away. "Go sit down."

Leah carefully slid the omelet onto your plate and set it down beside a steaming cup of coffee. She then placed the same in her plate and took a seat next to you.

"Is it alright that I made you coffee?" she asked, a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

"If you're trying to keep me awake, it's exactly what I need," you murmured, taking a sip from the cup. "Delicious," you said with a satisfied sigh, enjoying the warmth spreading down your throat.

Leah smiled warmly as she picked up her fork and began to eat.

"What time do you have to leave?" she asked casually, glancing at you with curiosity.

"Are you kicking me out already?" you countered with a playful grin spreading across your face. Leah rolled her eyes playfully.

"That was your coach calling, I guess he wants you back already," she clarified with a hint of worry.

"No, I think Lucas is having the time of his life with these days off," you commented, relishing the taste of the omelet. "Damn, this is good. I didn't know you could cook," you exclaimed, taking another enthusiastic bite.

"It's just eggs," Leah shrugged.

"Well, it's the best omelet I've ever had," you praised sincerely.

"You're such a smooth talker," Leah laughed, her laughter filling the room. Her joyful demeanor was starting to win you over more and more.

"It's my talent," you joked, finishing off the last bite of the omelet. "Anyway, Lucas just wanted to check in, make sure everything's cool and that I didn't do anything too risky that could affect me physically with the tournament coming up."

"Sounds reasonable," Leah nodded thoughtfully, cutting half of her omelet and adding it to your plate. She had a feeling you enjoyed it, maybe because omelets weren't something you ate often.

"I'm so happy," you said, savoring every bite. "Remind me to have this every day when I'm away."

“So, what are you up to today?" Leah asked, curious about your plans.

"Uh," you mumbled as you wiped your lips with a napkin. "I actually wanted to learn something new, since I'm now banned from going near a tennis racket," you added quietly.

"What do you want to learn?" asked Leah curiously, setting down her coffee cup.

"Teach me how to play football!" you exclaimed with an excited smile, leaning forward eagerly.

"What?" Leah asked, caught off guard and nearly choking on her coffee.

"Yeah! I want to learn. I'm pretty sure I can't even kick a ball properly—oh! oh! Teach me how to head it. I've always wanted to try," you continued enthusiastically.

Leah shook her head, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. "But you said your coach didn't want you doing risky things."

"Come on, Leah, it's football.” your eyes sparkling with determination “How dangerous could it be?"

"Ouch! Red! Yellow! Foul! Foul!" you groaned dramatically from the ground, clutching your ankle.

Leah folded her arms, a playful smirk tugging at her lips as she looked down at you. "I barely touched you," she said, kicking the ball back and forth with her foot.

She had effortlessly taken the ball from you, causing you to lose your balance and tumble to the ground.

Leah started out playing gently with you, almost as if she were playing with a child, letting you have your way. However, as she heard your teasing comments about how easy it was, her competitive spirit kicked in.

"Another goal," she declared triumphantly, kicking the ball into the small goal set up in her backyard. "What's the score now, like 10-2?" she asked with a playful smirk, hands on her hips, looking down at you still sprawled on the ground.

You groaned, realizing she wasn't holding back anymore. Her playful demeanor had shifted into full-on competition, and you were loving every minute of it.

"Call an ambulance," you groaned, your voice strained with pain, eyes tightly shut.

Leah's heart skipped a beat as worry flooded her. You seemed genuinely hurt, and she felt a pang of guilt for possibly causing it. She hurried over, her mind racing with concern, and knelt down beside you on the grass.

"Where does it hurt?" Leah asked, her hand gently touching yours. You opened your eyes and looked at her, seeing the worry in her expression.

"It's just... here," you said, then quickly pounced on her, effortlessly knocking her down. "Gotcha, Williamson," you teased with a grin, enjoying Leah's confused expression.

It took Leah a moment to process what had happened. Suddenly, she found herself lying on her back on the grass with you sitting on her abdomen, legs straddling her, in a playful and unexpected turn of events.

"Damn, Y/n, you scared me," Leah said, taking a deep breath to calm herself.

"You'll need a lot more to break me down," you replied proudly, unaware of Leah's hands sneaking closer to your body. Suddenly, tickles sent waves of laughter through you. "Leah! No! Stop!" you managed to protest between laughs, attempting to fend off her tickling hands but finding it hard to resist in your laughter-filled state.

"It's the least you deserve!" Leah exclaimed, her smile mischievous. "You nearly scared me to death!" She took advantage of your moment of weakness to flip you over, switching positions. Now, it was your back against the grass with Leah sitting on top of you.

Before you could react, Leah swiftly grabbed your wrists and pinned them above your head, securing them to the ground. Her eyes sparkling with a hint of playful affection.

Both of you were breathing heavily,cheeks flushed from all the laughter and movement of the past few minutes. Leah let out a sigh, and you felt a surge of anticipation as her face moved closer to yours. Your heart raced with anticipation, thinking she might kiss you. But instead, you felt Leah's forehead gently rest against yours.

"Don't play with me like that," she whispered softly.

You froze as her breath tickled your lips, her nose brushing against yours, and her perfume surrounding you. The gentle brush of her nose against yours sent a shiver down your spine.

"Leah..." you murmured, feeling her grip on your wrists tighten at the sound of her name.

"Don't ever scare me like that again," she whispered, pulling back slightly from your forehead but not releasing her hold.

Your eyes locked, the air thick with unspoken feelings.

"I'm sorry," you murmured, a shiver running through you as you felt Leah's gaze fixed on your lips.

"Do you mind if I..." she began softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

It was the moment you had been secretly yearning for. It was the confirmation of the deep feelings stirring within you every time Leah crossed your mind. All you wanted and needed was to feel her lips against yours.

"Leah," you said impatiently, nodding eagerly as your head moved up and down a few inches.

Leah took a deep breath, her eyes fixed on yours, filled with a mixture of hesitation and longing as she leaned in closer.

You felt her lips brush against yours, the brief contact sending a thrill through you. But just as the kiss was about to deepen, the doorbell rang.

In the blink of an eye, Leah pulled away, releasing your hands and creating an abrupt distance between you.

"Fuck," you muttered, frustration and desire mixing in your voice, as you were left alone in the backyard with your heart racing.

#leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson x you #woso x reader #woso imagine

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leclarifies · 4 days ago

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strawberries & cigarettes (MV33)

✰ max verstappen x driver!reader ✰

summary: you had a bad habit that you never told anyone. it was smoking cigarettes when you had a particularly bad day. max was nothing more than your co-worker, but when he catches you during a particularly hard night, he offers some comfort in the form of strawberries.

genre: fluff-ish me thinks, drabble

wc: 880

a/n: congrats to max who had an absolutely fantastic drive in brazil! here's a little gift for everyone in tribute to max's win last night <3 inspired from troye sivan's song, 'strawberries & cigarettes'. also if you want to be added to my taglist, please do let me know! i've been wanting to start one for a bit now :3

MASTERLIST ✰ ASK ME ANYTHING ✰ REQUEST A FIC!

smoking was a bad habit of yours you'd like to keep a secret. you knew it was bad for your health and you knew you should stop because it might affect your performance on the track but you didn't care once you lit one up and let your worries fade away.

it was a particularly hard night and you just wanted to be left alone.

the sunset was off in the distance as you watched silently, with a cigarette in hand and lighter in the other, leaning against the railing.

italy was beautiful, but you hated today.

smacked with another dnf. driving for alpine had its ups and downs— more downs than you would like and today was no different. especially if it was no fault of your own.

"retire the car," your race engineer had told you through the radio.

you felt like you could cry.

it was your 100th race start and the fucking car couldn't even drive right.

but you did so anyway and off into the garage you went.

dragging a deep breath, you let the smoke in. breathing out only when you felt dizzy enough.

"i didn't know you smoked," a familiar voice sounded from behind you. you knew better to smoke in public but you needed it.

you didn't have to turn around to see who it was, you knew.

"not a lot of people do," you tell him as he leans against the railing next to you.

you glance and you see a pretty dutchman in casual clothing, looking off into the distance as well.

you sat in comfortable silence, the both of you not wanting to say anything.

it was nice hanging out with max, it was always calm, peaceful and quiet. he gave you your space and you always gave him his. tonight was no different.

"do you do it when you're stressed? or is it a thing you do behind the scenes when no one is looking?" max was the first to break the silence as you take a drag of your cigarette, remembering to blow it away from max.

"i do it when i have too many thoughts in my head, cigarettes make me dizzy. in a good way," you tell him, then he glanced at you.

"aren't you scared it's gonna affect your performance?" he asked and you shrugged.

"i came a long way from karting, if cigarettes take me out then it is what it is," you laugh almost bitterly before standing up right and look down on the ground before looking back up again.

the oranges and purples in the sky made it look breathtaking.

"is it hard?"

"what is?"

"being a female driver?"

you only glance at max as an answer, he knew the answer and you knew the answer too.

"that was a stupid question, wasn't it?" max chuckled before looking back at the sunset, the darkening of the sky was apparent, you could only laugh.

"it is hard, max," you could feel him shuffling next to you and you didn't know what he was doing, only realizing he took out strawberries out of his pocket.

"strawberries are better for your health," max tells you gently as he puts one on your palm and pops in his mouth, "they taste better too. i think it'll help you in the long run if i can help you wean off the cigarettes."

"thank you max," you tell him softly, dropping the cigarette bud and step on it once it reaches the ground, also popping it in your mouth in a similar fashion as him but you laugh at the absurdity of the entire situation.

who carries around calyx-less strawberries in their pockets?

"do you usually carry around strawberries without their leaves in your pocket?" you ask as you took another one from his palm which was stretched out to hold a couple more strawberries.

max laughed at the thought but he shook his head, "no, i just came from the store and saw you here, i thought you might need some comfort from today..."

"i should be mad at you for winning so consistently," you laugh, it was annoying seeing him win every single race but you didn't care at this point. there was no reason for you to be mad, only proud of him.

"you shouldn't. you don't have the best car this season, give yourself some grace," max said before you chewed on the strawberries carefully. you cringe as the sour taste of the strawberries mixed with the aftertaste of the cigarettes.

"the taste of cigarettes and strawberries don't go well together," you snort as you continued eating on the strawberries.

"this is a sign for you to stop smoking when you're stressed."

"as long as i get an excuse to finally hang out more with my rival, i'm not complaining."

"are you flirting with me right now, y/n?" max looked at you, almost as if the idea was ridiculous.

"no i want to know your strategies, please hand me some," you gave him and max laughed even more at your pitiful face.

"you'll get a seat next to me next year."

"what do you mean by that verstappen?"

max didn't answer.

"hello? this is not a sign for you to ignore me!"

short drabble, i just wanted to write max without having to deal with off the grid :( hope u guys like it :3

#leclarifies fics #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen fic #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x yn #max verstappen oneshot #max verstappen #max verstappen x you

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a-reader-and-a-writer · 3 months ago

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I Don't Understand You

Fandom: Twisters, Tyler Owens, f!reader Summary: Although your lives are very different, you and Tyler have been happily together for years. However, when a new girl arrives, Tyler can't seem to focus on anything else. This Kate seems to understand him in a way you never could and you start to wonder if loving someone really means letting them go... Word Count: 4386 TW: Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Breakup, Makeup, Tears Notes: Huge thanks to @blue-aconite and @green-socks for beta reading this for me and to the anon who made this request 💕 SPOILERS FOR TWISTERS

Divider created by me (please ask/credit before using)

You noticed the change in him the moment they met.

Usually, you weren’t involved in Tyler’s chases but for some reason that day, you decided to meet the crew at a diner for lunch between storms. You had to fight your way through the crowd of adoring fans hovering around his truck before being able to greet him with a big kiss and warm embrace. As always, he kissed you back before slinging his arm over your shoulder. But as the two of you began walking towards the diner door, chatting about what he had gotten up to that morning, he trailed off, his attention now fully on the crew huddled around the Strom Par trucks.

You didn’t know any of those guys by name but had been around enough to recognize their faces—all but one. There was a new girl with them who was studying a tablet and glancing up at the darkening sky. She was pretty, but you didn’t see anything particularly notable about her. You turned to ask Tyler who she was, but before you could, he strolled off in that direction without a word leaving you standing with your hand on the door to the diner unsure what you were supposed to do.

Part of you thought you should go inside and order both of you lunch so it would be waiting when he came back, but there was something in Tyler’s posture as he stood next to this girl that was setting off alarm bells in your head. They were across the parking lot with their backs mostly to you so you couldn’t make out anything they were saying, but after knowing Tyler for six years and dating him for four, you had gotten rather good at reading his body language. And right now, the pronounced jut of his hips, the upturned tilt of his head, and that certain smile you could just get a glimpse of when he turned the right way all told you the same thing. He liked this girl—a lot.

You watched them for another moment or two until Lily, Dani, and Boone came barrelling out of the diner, almost knocking you over. By the time you all untangled yourselves and you looked back over to where Tyler and the girl had been standing, she was walking back towards the Storm Par team. But Tyler…Tyler’s eyes were locked on her. He nodded slightly as an impressed grin spread across half of his face. He stared after her for another beat before the grin dropped and he straightened, his eyes scanning the lot until he saw you standing by the diner, looking back at him. Quickly slipping his sunglasses back on his face, he jogged to your side.

Just before he reached you, he shot one quick look over his shoulder at the Storm Par team. Whatever the girl had said to them had caused them to pack up all their equipment and climb into their vehicles. Tyler jerked his head at Lily, Dani, and Boone who were still standing near you, then he placed his hands on your shoulders.

“I’m sorry we didn’t get to do lunch, but we gotta go. Storm’s moving in faster than we thought and it looks like it's gonna be a good one.” He rubbed his hands up and down your arms. “Just meet you back at the motel tonight? Dex was gonna grill up some steaks for everyone.”

“Yeah,” you said, not looking at his face. “Sounds like a plan.”

“Hey.” He used his finger to tilt your chin up to look at him. “Everything alright?”

You sighed, staring into his sunglasses. “Yes, Tyler. Just go before you miss your window. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Okay…tonight.” He squeezed your arms one last time and pressed a quick kiss to the top of your head before heading to where his crew was already packing up.

When he was about halfway across the parking lot, the group of Storm Par vehicles pulled out in front of him. As the truck the girl was in passed by, you saw that same smile return to his face and you turned away, a queasy feeling building in your stomach.

That night at the motel, all Tyler could talk about was this girl—Kate—and how she had perfectly predicted the storm. Everyone else out there had assumed the system forming to the east was the one to chase, yet Tyler and Kate had been the only ones to correctly identify that the cap wouldn’t break and the one to the west was the better option.

The sick feeling deep in your stomach that had been growing since Tyler began talking about her only got worse when Kate walked by the Wranglers on the way to her room. Tyler introduced the two of you—she was polite but seemed surprised when Tyler referred to you as his girlfriend. You just nodded back before taking a long drag on your beer. Seeing the way Tyler had looked at her was bad enough, but hearing him tease her and listening to him call her by a little nickname all while that spark burned in his eyes was a thousand times worse. And on top of it all, you could see past his bravado—he genuinely respected this girl and thought she was special. It was too much to take and, shortly after she left, you excused yourself and went to your room. When Tyler came up an hour or two later, you pretended to be asleep so you wouldn’t have to talk.

Originally, you had planned on heading back to your shared apartment in the morning, but as uncomfortable as you were feeling about the situation, you didn’t feel like leaving Tyler alone with Kate. You felt terrible even thinking like that because you knew Tyler loved you and would never do anything to hurt you, but you couldn’t forget the way he looked at her. So, you rode out with Dani and Dexter on that day’s chase and jumped in to help when the crew arrived in what was left of Crystal Springs after the storm went through.

While the rest of the crew began handing out food and water to those who had just lost everything, a woman came over to where you, Tyler, and Boone were sorting through some rubble. She was dirty and crying, tears leaving muddy streaks down her face as she explained that they couldn’t find their family dog and, as her kids had already lost so much, was there any way you could help her find him. You were all more than willing to help and immediately began looking for the little guy.

After a while, you began drifting away from where Tyler and Boone were looking. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw the Storm Par trucks pull up but you tried to ignore them. Scott and Javi were probably just here to try to talk these poor people into selling what little they had left to that slimeball Riggs for a fraction of what it was worth. How could Tyler seriously be drawn to this new girl if she was helping Storm Par do this to people? It went against everything Tyler stood for. This thought stuck in your head and you began to wonder if maybe you had let your insecurities get the best of you and had blown this whole Kate situation out of proportion.

Suddenly, you heard a small whimper off to your left. Slowly and carefully, you shifted a few pieces of concrete and wood until you saw a tiny pair of eyes staring back at you from the shadows. Bending down, you called out to him, and the cutest little tan-and-white terrier poked his head out with a small bark. After sniffing in your direction for a moment, he slunk forward until he was right in front of you and you slowly reached out. When he didn’t retreat, you placed your hand gently on his head and stroked his fur. He was trembling and wet but otherwise seemed unharmed.

“Hey there, buddy! I'm so glad we found you all safe and sound.” You gathered the small dog into your arms. Rubbing under his chin and giving him a reassuring coo, you turned around and called out, “Ty! Look who I fou—”

The smile faded from your face as you spotted Kate speaking with Tyler and Boone. Even being this far away, even with Tyler getting heated about whatever they were talking about, even as Tyler turned to storm away, you could see that you hadn’t been jumping to conclusions after all. You could practically see the tension crackling in the air between them and it was the final straw. As much as every fiber of your being was screaming at you not to, you knew what you needed to do.

Walking over to where the guys were still searching, you placed the dog into Boone’s arms before grabbing Tyler’s hand and leading him away from everyone else. “We need to talk.”

“Uh oh. Am I in trouble?” he asked, chuckling slightly. But the moment you pulled him behind the rubble of one of the houses and faced him, his smile evaporated. Squeezing your hand tighter, he asked, “Wait. Is something actually wrong?”

Letting go of his hand, you took a few steps away from him as you slowly exhaled. Then you asked, “Tell me one thing about what I do at my job. Not my title, but what I do.”

Tyler stared at you as if you had just grown another head. “Sweetheart, what is this—”

“Just answer the question.”

He ran his hand through his hair as he pondered the question. “You’re in finance and you work…with money…”

“Doing what with money?”

“....I don’t know.”

“I know you don’t and we’ve always joked about it and I thought it was okay. After all, I don’t really get what you do either—I never have. I mean, I know what you literally do, but how you feel about it or why you get such joy from it?” You shake your head, staring at the ground. “I’ve tried to be as supportive as I could be the last four years and let you go out there without saying a word, despite how dangerous it is, but I still don’t get it…She does.”

“She who?”

“Kate.”

“Wait a minute–” Tyler held up his hands and took a step closer to you but you cut him off.

“Tyler, you’ve been different ever since she showed up. She’s all you talk about and you’ve been going out of your way to impress her or show her how much better you are than Storm Par.”

“You know I get a little competitive especially when it comes to those assholes. They look down on my crew because they don’t have degrees or schooling or whatever and I sometimes get lost in trying to show them we are just as good as they are without all that stuff. So maybe I was going a little overboard trying to show Kate that before Storm Par turned her against us. But you know it’s all just big talk.”

“I know and I’ve tried to tell myself that. But it’s not just what you say to her, it’s how you are whenever she’s around. You stand differently, smile differently. You…you…” You blinked several times as you tried to hold back the tears that were forming in your eyes.

“I what?”

Taking another deep breath, you said, “Ty…the way you look at her is how you used to look at me.”

That shut him up. Whatever argument he was forming in his head was no longer valid and he knew it.

Placing your hand over his heart, you said as your voice trembled slightly, “Admit it. We’ve been off for a while now. It sort of feels like we’ve just been going through the motions. We used to talk about the future: a house, marriage, a dog, maybe kids. But I can’t even remember the last time either of us mentioned anything like that.” Your eyes dropped to the ground, unable to look into his eyes as you said this next part. “Maybe…maybe we just need to take some time apart. Maybe there’s something better out there for both of us and we’re just holding each other back.”

Tyler placed his hand over where yours still rested on his chest. “There’s no one better than you.”

“Are you sure you still feel that way?” Tyler started to respond but you added, “Even after meeting Kate?”

He hesitated and that was all you needed to hear.

Cupping his cheek with your free hand, you found the strength to look up at him as you said, “I love you. But I don’t understand you—not the way she does. And I honestly don’t think I ever will. So you need to explore this and see if there’s something there that I couldn’t give you.” You laughed, tears streaming down your cheeks. “And who knows? Maybe while you and Kate are getting your happily ever after, I’ll meet someone who understands what I do at work with money.”

Tyler squeezed his eyes shut, leaning into your touch as he whispered, “I don’t want you to go.”

“And I don’t want to go. But I have to. For both of us.” Pulling his face down towards yours, you lightly kissed his lips. Then, after pulling back, you rested your forehead against his. “Please…really give this a try. All I want for you is to be happy. Whether that’s with me, Kate, or someone else. And who knows? Maybe we’ll find our way back to each other one day. But until then, if you feel it…”

Your hands slipped from where they rested on him as you pivoted quickly and rushed away. You wanted him to come after you. To come running up behind you, sweep you into his arms, and say he was chasing what he felt and that this had all been a mistake. But he didn’t.

Finding a police officer climbing into his car, you asked for a lift back to the motel where you had left your car. As you were climbing in, you glanced back at where you had left Tyler. But he wasn’t staring back. Instead, his attention was fully on one of the Storm Par trucks that was pulling out and you just managed to catch a glimpse of the driver’s blonde ponytail.

What was left of your heart shattered.

The next few days were some of the worst of your life. You tried to carry on with your normal schedule and stay busy to keep your mind off of everything, but it was nearly impossible, especially considering you were still living in the apartment you shared with Tyler when it wasn’t storm season. His presence lingered in every inch of the space and you wondered how long you should wait before trying to find a new place to stay. He would still be gone for another month or so but living here knowing he was nothing more than a roommate at this point nearly brought you to tears every time you thought about it.

But even worse were the constant scenarios that played through your head about what he and Kate were doing at any given moment. You had told him to explore things with her and really see if there was a connection there, yet now thinking about him acting on anything made that queasy feeling in your stomach return worse than ever. One time you actually did get sick when you imagined Tyler showing up at the apartment asking you to leave so Kate could move it. You knew he would never be that cruel, but it didn’t stop your brain from asking what if.

Sometimes you wondered if you made a mistake. You had brought up your job and the fact Tyler didn’t know what you did as a reason he didn’t understand you, but that wasn’t the real issue (and to be fair, your job was pretty nuanced and even your parents could never remember exactly what you did). Deep down you had known for a while things were stalling out between the two of you. The love was still there but you had fallen into a rut, just going through the same routines without really putting much thought or effort into anything. Maybe Kate’s arrival was just the wake-up call you needed to face the truth. But maybe instead of pushing Tyler into another woman’s arms, you should have used this realization as fuel to work on getting the two of you back to where you were when you first started dating.

Maybe you just threw away the love of your life because you hadn’t tried putting the work into the relationship…

A few days after leaving Oklahoma, you were cleaning the kitchen after making dinner when you heard a frantic pounding on your door. Someone from work had mentioned possibly dropping off some paperwork later, but this sounded much too urgent a knock to be them.

Walking over to the door, you pressed against it and called, “Who is it?”

“It’s me.”

Your heart froze in your chest. It was still the middle of storm season. You hadn’t prepared yourself to face Tyler until then at least. Could he really be here to ask you to move out after all?

Cracking the door slightly to peer out, you gasped and let it swing open the rest of the way as you saw him leaning heavily on the door frame. His jeans and favorite dark burgundy shirt were filthy and ripped in several places. It looked like he had what was once mud—now dried, cracked, and flaking off—caked into his hair, skin, and clothes. But it was the way he was favoring his left leg, keeping as much weight off of it as possible, that really caught your attention.

“What the hell happened to you? Are you okay?” You grabbed his arm and slung it over your shoulder, helping him hobble into the apartment.

You tried to get him to sit on the couch, but he waved you off, opting to lean against the kitchen counter instead. Thinking he might want something to drink, you started to walk towards the fridge, however he grabbed your hand and pulled you into his arms. He reeked of sweat, oil, and smoke, and you tried to squirm out of his grasp but he stopped you, running his hand down the side of your face.

Trying to stay strong and not to melt into his embrace, you whispered, “What are you doing?”

But he just pulled you closer, his green eyes shining with something you recognized but hadn’t seen in a long time. “It’s you. It was always you and will always be you. And I should have known that from the beginning.”

Sighing, you pushed against his chest again. “Ty, I said we needed to take a step back and explore other relationships.”

“I did.”

Even though that was what you were telling him to do, it stung to hear but you pushed past it. “It’s been less than a week. That doesn’t count.”

“It could have been a year and it wouldn’t make a difference. Yeah, Kate and I share something because of our connections with the storms, and I had never met someone else who looks at them like I do so I was intrigued by her. But she’s not what I want and I’m sorry if I made you think she was. But I know now without a doubt what I want and that’s you.”

The certainty in his voice made you weak in the knees but you couldn’t understand what could have changed so completely in such a short amount of time. Studying his face, you asked, “What happened out there?”

“I just walked away from an EF5, even though I shouldn’t have. We were trying to help get people somewhere safe to hide before the storm hit when my leg got pinned under some debris—” you gasped “—I’m fine, I promise. Kate and Javi got me out and it’s just a little sore now. But then Kate took my truck and went out into the storm alone leaving Javi and me to help the rest of the crew keep everyone safe. The only place we could go was the movie theater and it wasn’t made to be a shelter. It started to come apart in minutes and people were getting sucked out. Then Lily lost her grip—”

“No! Tyler–”

“I was able to grab her but it was like playing tug of war with Mother Nature. I was holding onto her with both hands and the only thing keeping both of us from flying away was the toe of my boot wrapped around the leg of one of the theater seats. That moment was the first time in a really long time that I thought this might be it. That I wasn’t making it out of this storm alive. But just when it seemed like I couldn’t hold on any longer, I thought about you—and only you. I thought about the way you smile and boop my nose with whipped cream every single time we split a piece of pie. I thought about your absolutely horrible attempt at singing while you take a shower. I thought about that little sound you make when you’re sleeping curled against me. But most of all, I thought about the way we left things and I refused to let that be the last conversation we ever had. So, I held on until Kate was able to break up the storm.”

You had been falling in love with Tyler all over again at his confession, but that last sentence threw you for a loop. “Wait, she did what?”

He shook his head. “It’s a long story. I’ll explain later. But the point is, I came straight here as soon as I made sure everyone was okay because I had to fix things between us. And because I needed to do what I should have done a long time ago.”

Letting you go, Tyler reached into his pocket as—wincing—he lowered himself onto his injured leg. Your eyes grew wide as you realized what he was about to do. However, before he could pull his hand out of his pocket, you dropped down beside him, placing your hands on his to stop him.

“Ty, are you sure?” you asked, voice trembling. “I don’t want you to do this because you almost died or you think you have to—”

Tyler smiled, tears forming at the corners of his eyes. “No. Baby, I’ve realized that when you love something, you’ll spend your whole life trying to understand it. So while we might not understand everything about each other right now, I’d like to spend the rest of my life by your side trying to figure it out. Because I love you more than anything else in the world and would be honored if you’d let me spend every day proving that to you—” he moved your hands aside and pulled out a box from his pocket “—as my wife.”

He popped open the lid and you gasped. The diamond ring inside was as gorgeous as it was huge. You had seen smaller rings on A-list celebrities and knew there was no way in hell either you or Tyler could afford something like this, even if you combined your savings.

Mouth still gaping, you choked out, “Where the hell did you get that?”

Tyler smiled. “There was a jewelry shop down the street from the theater that was still standing. When I went by, the owner was out front inspecting the damage. Turns out, I had helped his wife and kids get to safety so he opened up the store and gave me a pretty good deal on it.”

“Still, you didn’t need to do this.” You reached up and brushed his hair off his face where it had been plastered down by sweat and dirt. “You know all I’ve ever wanted was you. You could have given me a rubber band and I still would have been the happiest girl in the world.”

“Should I take it back then?” He started to close the ring box, but you stopped him.

“Well, don’t be so hasty! I mean, since you already have it…”

“Does this mean you’re saying yes?” There was just the slightest edge of fear in his voice as if he honestly thought you might have a different answer.

But you nodded, holding out your hand. “Yes. As long as you are absolutely sure this is what you want, then of course I’m saying yes.”

Tyler’s smile doubled in size as he took the ring out of the box and slid it on your finger. Even noting how big it was, the weight of it momentarily surprised you. The diamonds sparkled and shined in the lights of the kitchen and you wondered if you would ever get tired of staring at it.

Once it was securely in place, Tyler wrapped his hand around the back of your neck and pulled you into his lips. The kiss had a fire and desire to it you hadn’t felt in what seemed like years, and you silently vowed to never let your passion for each other smolder again.

As the heat of the kiss began to burn even brighter, you felt Tyler’s fingers fiddling with the buttons of your blouse. With a soft moan, you turned your head, breaking the kiss but leaving your face pressed against his. “Ty, please don’t be offended by this, but do you think before we go any further, we could move this celebration to the shower? You smell really bad.”

He chuckled, his hands still skimming over the front of your blouse. “I’ll go wherever you want me to, as long as we are together.”

You smiled back and placed a quick kiss on his lips. “Forever.”

Then you helped ease him off the floor before leading him into the bathroom, both of your shirts and pants already on the floor before you reached it.

Tag list: @green-socks, @mayhem24-7forever, @blue-aconite, @hederasgarden, @writercole, @ryebecca, @heart-0n-fire, @nerdysuperchick, @ohtobeleah, @slightly-psycho-multifan, @sunlightmurdock, @xoxabs88xox, @superchatnoir07

#fic #twisters #twisters 2024 #tyler owens #tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #kate carter #angst #angst with a happy ending #happily ever after #hea #hurt/comfort #emotional hurt/comfort #hurt & comfort #tears tw

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enviedear · 11 months ago

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A request throught for billy the kid.

He goes to a bar where a barmaid owns and works there, and they sleep together, and when he comes back, she has a little boy running around that looks a whole lot like him....

girl from the north country — billy bonney

request

i got this ask and my brain immediately went 'bob dylan rendition of girl from north country' because this trope has that song written all over it.

tw— allusions to the deed, hidden baby trope, use of, 'momma' as a pet name.

less than three years ago, you made the grave decision to bed an outlaw. he was sweet and soft with you, sweet talking his way into your britches. it had been a fun night, but despite your delighted evening, a sinking feeling took hold of you the minute he caught your eye.

his name was billy. or at least, he went by billy. he was a mess of dark brown hair, kind blue eyes, and honest nature. it felt like fate when you saw him. he had been sitting at the bar, quiet and lonesome. you found it easy to talk to him.

he had given you a bright smile, engaging you in casual conversation as the night turned to morning. slipping out with you when you closed down the bar, only to follow you up the road to your small homestead.

you had never seen him before, but after he left town, you soon learned exactly who he was. wanted posters with his likeness followed his trail, leaving you tight-lipped about the entire situation.

it was about six months after his visit that your lips finally began to move, coming up with fruitless excuses for the townspeople. by then, your stomach had already started to round, bulging into something plain and inescapable. at first, you were terrified and even considered fleeing to another town and opting to try and pass as a widow. even now, despite yourself, the thought lingers in the back of your mind.

you've been lucky though, the town is nice enough to not ask you questions. just watchful stares and a few upturned noses. you kept your job at the gin mill, working through the night while your married friend watched the baby.

you've found yourself a quiet life—a growing meadow of life hidden in the hellish and desolate west.

with a sigh, you turn your attention back to the clothesline, grabbing at the last of the dry garments and flinging them in your basket. there's a storm brewing close in the distance, and a loud crack of thunder has the small child at your feet fretting.

you pick up your fussy toddler, his pink lips curled into a frown, "c'mon bubba, s'just a little storm."

you glance at the darkening sky, feeling the first droplets of rain on your skin. the wind picks up, causing the clothesline to sway with a creak. cradling your son in your arms, you hurry inside, leaving the clothes in your haste of trying to beat the approaching storm.

inside the cozy warmth of your small homestead, you try to soothe the worried toddler in your arms. the distant rumble of thunder grows louder, and you decide it's best to stay cooped up, work be damned. as you settle into a rocking chair, softly humming a lullaby to the sweet boy in your arms, the rain begins to patter against the window.

the hours pass slowly, the storm raging outside, when a sudden knock on the door startles you. with caution, you approach and peer through the small window and see a tall figure drenched in rain, barely recognizable underneath his sopping hat.

you open the door, and the man looks up. his eyes are kind, and eerily familiar. looking like a drowned man, standing at your door, is billy. he looks apologetic and somewhat sheepish. rainwater drips from the brim of his hat as he mumbles, "m'sorry for showing up like this, i wasn't even sure if you were still here."

you eye him cautiously, memories of your night shared with him resurfacing, but the storm outside softens your resolve, "what brings you here, billy?" you inquire, staring up at the rain-soaked outlaw before you, taking in his genuine expression.

his voice trembles as he confesses that he never meant to stay away for so long— but life on the run has its cruel complications. now, drenched and shivering in the midst of a raging storm, he pleads for refuge in your home, desperation etched onto every word as he begs for forgiveness and a safe haven from his pursuers.

hesitating for a moment, you look back at your toddler playing on the floor. with a sigh, you relent, "alright, billy, you can come in, but just until the storm passes."

as he steps inside, you notice the surprise in his eyes when he sees the boy. he's donned in a darling little linen onesie, your own hands had worked tirelessly over the garment. his bright eyes look between you and billy, the hue of your own eyes evident and the blue of billy's scattered throughout. a perfect blend.

a silence hangs in the air as realization slowly dawns on him. his gaze shifts between you and your little one, and in that moment, he connects the dots.

his voice softens, "is he... is he mine?"

the question sends a shiver down your spine and all of your carefully constructed defenses slowly crumble around you. there's no denying it now, the truth of what had happened was laid bare for both of you to see, innocent face staring up at the both of you. you stand in place, your feet rooted to the ground. you can feel your heart pounding in your chest as you realize the confession you're about to make. taking a deep breath, you finally relent.

a nod is all you can manage, the weight of the unspoken truth lingering in the room. billy takes a step closer to the little boy and you start. but his intentions are gentle as he reaches out to touch the top of his child's head, "i never knew." he murmurs, a mix of regret and wonder in his eyes.

you watch as billy kneels down to meet your son at eye level. the child looks up at him with innocent curiosity, and you can't help but feel a twinge of anger mixed in with the guilt that had been festering inside of you for so long. you had carried the weight of this secret for years, the fear of the townsfolk finding out and ostracizing you and your child from the community. but looking down at billy's face, you know that it's time to come clean.

"he's almost three now, billy," you say softly, the regret in your own voice almost palpable, "i didn't know how to find you...i didn't even know your name back then."

billy's expression softens as he turns to look at you, his eyes full of sorrow, "i understand," he says, his voice gentle. "m'sorry i wasn't there for you. for both o'you."

you nod, knowing his words are earnest, "you couldn't have known." you say quietly.

billy stands up and walks towards you, his arms open. his eyes are sad, but they hold a fierce longing that you can feel despite any attempt to deny it. his body radiates with a warmth that you can't help but feel drawn to, despite all of the fear and regret that fills your heart. you close your eyes, allowing yourself to be enveloped by his embrace, feeling his arms wrap around your body and pull you close.

"i'm sorry," he whispers into your ear. "god, m'so sorry for everything."

you nod, unable to find your voice. the storm outside rages on, but inside, the atmosphere is one of acceptance and forgiveness. you have both been through so much, but now, with the truth out in the open, it feels like a weight has been lifted from your shoulders. you look up into billy's eyes, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

"i forgave you a long time ago," you say, your voice barely above a whisper, "figure i can't keep hiding this little one away from his father. not now, wouldn't be right."

billy nods, his eyes now filled with hope, "i want to be a part of his life, if you'll let me," he says, his voice filled with a conviction that sends shivers down your spine.

you nod, feeling tears prick at the corners of your eyes, "of course," you say, your voice filled with a mixture of relief and sadness. "he deserves to have his daddy."

billy smiles, his eyes crinkling at the corners, cupping your cheeks, "what about his momma? seems like she's been gettin' on fine without a man around."

you hum, trying to ignore how easy your heart skips for him, "i reckon she'll make him grovel 'fore she'll be his sweetheart again."

your outlaw lets out a soft chuckle, "then i best get to grovelin', momma."

—reblog and like if you enjoyed, let ur local writer know you like her work !

#—askolivia !#billy the kid #billy the kid x reader #william h bonney #william h bonney x reader #billy bonney #billy bonney x reader #tom blyth!billy the kid #tom blyth #billy the kid 2022 #coriolanus x reader

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https-furina · 1 year ago

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✎ i wasn’t ready to say goodbye [various men - part two] ft. lyney, zhongli, childe, ayato, alhaitham, cyno & tighnari x fem!reader content: angst, heavy trigger warnings for death, blood, injuries, gore & murder, fontaine archon quest spoilers (lyney), hurt no comfort, suggestive for a moment (zhongli), sumeru archon quest spoilers (alhaitham), ooc ayato (i'm not confident with him, sorry) not proofread.

detective's notes. this is the second part to the 'i wasn't ready to say goodbye' series i've started following aly's request, which is part one and you can find it here.

lyney put a lot of trust and faith into you the moment you'd uttered precious sweet nothings to him and promises you swore you'd keep. the magician was hopeful that for once potentially things were going right, he was landing on his feet if it wasn't for the heavy, nagging feeling working for the fatui left on his shoulders. it suffocated him, no matter how many loving smiles you'd send his way. he could drown every moment in your familiar scent - his home, his four walls but it would never rid him of his actions.

even when he so blindly puts that trust and faith into the auspicious blond traveler travelling teyvat and bringing nothing but destruction in their wake.

a shaking gloved hand reaches out for your silhouette against the backdrop of crackling fires, embers rising into the deep night sky like fireflies. dilated lilac eyes search your facial expressions but they keep trailing that to that blade piercing through your abdomen, soaked in the precious liquid you need so desperately. he doesn't understand - he didn't do anything wrong. he'd followed every rule in the book, he'd been a good man, he swears! yet that look of fear on your face and the hatred in the traveler's eyes... he's lost. the traveler yanks their arm back, withdrawing their sword without another word. no explanation, nothing that could ease lyney's mind as he rushes forward to catch you in his arms, falling to the floor with you when your vision darkens. the loss of the blade in your wound results in a heavier blood loss, nothing is there to stagger the waterfall that leaks through your attire and lyney is desperately pressing his hands to your wound but to no avail. "y/n?" he murmurs, panicked and breathless as he hyperventilates and his eyes burn from tears. your eyelashes are fluttering, lips parted as shallow breaths escape you but no words come out. you do not respond, prompting lyney to continue begging you, "please, hold on, i'm sorry - i'm so sorry y/n-" he doesn't care to know where the traveler disappeared to. the fires roar louder in his ears, competing with the rush of blood that's sending him crazy. he can hear his own pulse thudding, heavy as he watches the light drain from your eyes. words are flurrying from his lips, his voice cracking as he wonders whether begging to the hydro archon will get him anywhere. but it doesn't when your tense shoulders fall limp, your head rolling to the side as one last breath intakes into your lungs. he promised you his work would never affect you. he promised the traveler his eternal loyalty and the concept that he was a good guy. he never lied but when he's sobbing into the crook of your neck, hugging your body close, he can't help but think his entire being was built on a web of tightly knit lies created by the fatui.

zhongli vowed that falling in love with a mortal would be unwise, he knew from the very start when amber eyes as warm as cor lapis landed on you from across the room. it was like there was a pull, a tug in your direction and the benevolent man had no choice but to approach - just like that you had the archon wrapped around your finger, not that you knew. he couldn't tell you, no, that would be even more unwise and he'd already made one grave mistake swallowing pretty moans when his lips pressed to yours in the dead of the night.

but if it had protected you from those who wanted his blood, who wanted him to hurt and his heart to ache, would it have been wise? for then, he would not have to relive this stabbing grief once more.

sal terrae remained one of his favourite spots of his country, with dazzling waterfalls and memoirs of the god of salt - a memory long drifting away - he could spend days here, camped out under a tree and listening to the calm that nature brings. but this is not the sal terrae he remembers, no. not the blood splattered on the dirt ground beneath you or the way there's a small, delicate red river trickling out of the corner of the mouth he'd kissed so many times before. he should have known not to trust the fatui the way he had whilst they were in liyue - specifically that damn ginger harbinger and the bank. he scowls, brows knitting together as he hesitantly takes a step forward. he considers whether you'll yell at him, scream and cry out in anger for his mistakes. after all, perhaps you would have not been pierced in the chest so brutally had he protected you and even more so, if he hadn't lied about his identity. you don't. you gasp out for breath, choking on blood as you cough it up. it dribbles down your chin, an horrific scene. he'd seen many in his thousands of years walking teyvat, he'd seen so much mortal blood it felt like water by this point but seeing your specific blood clawed at his heart. he wishes he could forget the vision, forget the way there are tears glittering as they spill down your cheeks. zhongli feels an immense amount of guilt and he knows the heavy weight of it will drag on his ankles for the rest of his existence. "z-zhongli?" you croak out, your vision blurring as you make out the tall man from where he stands. you reach out, your hand covered in your own blood from where you were just holding your chest. blood seeps through your clothing, the reality is starting to hit zhongli more. he approaches quicker, hands cupping your cheeks as his thumbs wipe your tears. he isn't sure how to comfort you - perhaps he can't. the adrenaline is fading, you're feeling the burn of your wound every time you gasp for breath. your lungs hurt, your head feels light. zhongli wraps an arm around your waist quickly when your knees give in, lowering you to the ground softly. he kneels at your side, swallowing the lump in his throat. "i'm... i'm sorry, my love..." he whispers, unsure if that's the apology he wants to drop right now. you're fading in and out of consciousness, your bloodied hand clutching at his coat as if he's the one who is going to fade away at any moment now. zhongli grimaces, the unfamiliar sting of tears in his eyes as he watches the way your chest doesn't rise again.

childe cherishes you to the point of possession. you're the best thing that's ever happened to him, he'll remind you at least once daily. if it doesn't come out of his mouth verbally, he'll show it in the form of actions, gifts, anything he can consider a love language - you have to convince him that killing people who look in your direction is not a love language.

his wealth brings unnecessary trouble as well as his association with the northland bank. there are many souls in liyue who would crave for an ounce of it, at any means possible.

he doesn't remember ever giving you a reason to leave the front door wide open - not that you need a reason but it's the peak of winter in liyue and you always complain at the thought of heat escaping through cracks in the window. upon closer inspection, the harbinger sees that the door handle is busted, hanging on by a limb. there's a sudden pang of anxiety in his chest, his gloved hand pushing the door wide open. childe is met with the sights of shattered glass and broken pottery, porcelain decorating wooden floorboards. there's a lump in his throat now, making it hard to breathe as he calls your name out and begins to frantically search your shared house. he can hear your whimpers, your soft begs to not hurt you as he approaches the kitchen. there's a bloodied kitchen knife on the floor beside you but his eyes land sooner on the puddle of deep red liquid staining your clothes and the floorboards beneath you. the blood is seeping from your neck, your voice strangled and gurgled when you cough up more blood onto the floor. your fearful eyes meet his blue ones and you choke out a sob. "c-childe- ajax.." you cry out any name you can but it's barely a whisper when you finally realise there's no one else here to attack you. his eyes are cold, his blood running even colder when he grips at the bow in his hands, his knuckles turning white and he swears he'll kill whoever did this to you. he swears that they'll feel his wraith, he'll spill their blood and he'll taint teyvat's ocean with it until they remember his archons forsaken name. when he doesn't respond to his name, you sob once more and he snaps to reality, dropping his bow as he kneels at your side. he peels his gloves off, his hands still warm as he clears your neck to look at your wound clearer. you wince, whimpering and whining at any form of contact as you grow fainter, hands weakly grabbing at childe's clothing. "i'll kill them, i swear baby - i'll make them pay, they'll regret ever coming near you-" childe's tone is sharp, stabbing the solemn air as you struggle to breathe, gasping for your final breaths. you can't even form the words to argue back against him, to tell him that killing people doesn't solve everything. that silence kills him. it sends him insane as he watches you helplessly die in front of him. he hyperventilates, brows knit together in frustration. you were supposed to argue back, tell him he's wrong. why didn't you? he shakes your shoulders gently but you're limp, unresponsive.

ayato is not a man of many words nor actions, you should have seen it coming the moment you married a socialiate, let alone the head of his clan. the man has an image to maintain and that is not limited to the likes of his wife either. you do not mind, heavily avoiding the limelight of inazuma's tabloids. ayato can do many things to protect you from scenarios like that as the commissioner of the yashiro commission.

he could not have foreseen enemy clans using you, his devoted wife against him and he could have not particularly predicated this scenario.

"who did this?" his words cut the silence, it's tense and heavy. all that resonates in the courtyard is your desperate gasps for breath, your brows knitted together as you try to recall anything about your attackers but nothing comes of it. there's no one but the two of you around, ayato had long sent everyone on a wild goose chase to find who did this to you. red soaks the white of his sleeves, hanging in the pool of blood you lay in. ayato lets out a shaking breath, there's a tight feeling in his chest. did he feel guilt? potentially. he trusted himself enough to protect you, he swore he'd never fail you. it seems he'd failed himself in that regard too. "i-i... love you..." you whisper shakily, weak and barely audible above the winds of inazuma that blow through the kamisato estate's courtyard. ayato grimaces, a cool hand cupping the soft skin of your cheek. shadowed eyes belonging to that of your beloved husband drink in the sights of your blemishes, your insecurities - the things that he has forever found beautiful. "yes... yes, i know, dear," he reassures softly, his voice cracking ever-so-slightly as he gives you a broken smile, "i love you too." you're beginning to fade out of consciousness, the blood loss taking you in its toll when your chest becomes heavy and you're struggling to find the strength to breathe. ayato coaxes you to keep going, to keep trying for him. just hold on a little longer, he promises, clasping your bloodied hands in his. he does not care for the liquid staining his clothing, it is yours and anything of yours is precious to him. but his reassurances and promises begin to fall on deaf ears when he is the only person left breathing in the courtyard of his home, his sacred sanctuary he swore would be safe for you. it's always been safe for him but as he cries out into the night, exposing his vulnerability in the moment of being alone, he wonders why it could have not been for you, truly.

alhaitham claims he has no reasoning for falling in love. he's a busy man, especially when he's thrust into the role of the acting grand safe following his expeditions helping the traveler free lesser lord kusanali. but between stacks of paperwork and arguing with one particular blond in the house of daena, turquoise eyes find you, another ordinary scholar of the akademiya. he swears he had no intentions of knowing you further than polite words shared as you pass each other in the halls.

is that why months later when he doesn't hear from you while you're out researching in the desert, he decides to go searching for you in a worry he'd never voice aloud?

thick, red liquid is binding the sand together under you, dripping from your open wound across your side. your attire is ripped, the wind occasionally blowing sharp granules of sand onto your exposed wound and causing you to yell out in pain. alhaitham is pale, his eyes wide. he should have trusted his gut sooner when you stopped writing back to him, keeping him updated on your adventures out in the desert. better yet, perhaps he should have just came with you in the first place. there are no polite words shared in the heavy atmosphere as you pant for breath. alhaitham is no better, struggling to breathe at the sight of one of the only people he'd allowed this close bleeding out in front of him. his eyes don't leave your wound, you're way too far from the bimarstan for him to get you help. you fall to your knees and alhaitham follows, his hands fumbling as he struggles to remove his cloak and wrap it around your shoulders. you're in the middle of the desert and yet you're drenched in a cold sweat, hugging his cloak around you tighter. you breathe in his familiar scent, it's warm and hugs you back. it's comforting when the wound burns harsher on your side. alhaitham should have known better than to let you venture into the desert alone, the guilt biting at him aggressively when he pulls you into his chest, burying his face into your hair. he drinks you in, feeling your shallow breaths against the shell of his ear. he listens helplessly as the seconds between your breaths become longer and they become quieter to the point he no longer feels them anymore. he refuses to pull away from you, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck as your skin turns cold beneath him. he's in denial, his breaths struggled when your arms fall from around him, limp. just a little longer... he'll wake up and you'll be in front of his desk once more, that wide smile almost rubbing off on him.

cyno warned you the moment you'd figured you had a chance at getting so close to the general mahamatra - he worked a dangerous job and not only that, he himself was a dangerous man. yet you were stubborn, initiating a conversation with him any chance you got. had he been on an expedition recently? did he have any criminal arrest stories to tell your curious mind? cyno could almost chuckle at how much his work did not seem to bother a citizen like you.

he should have held his breath as he ran from the akademiya to treasures street, having been told of a murder happening in broad daylight of sumeru's summer.

"what happened?" "oh archons.." "is she dead?" cyno scowls at all the voices, the questions, the intrusion of a victim's privacy as he pushes through the crowds of civilians. his brows are knit together, trying to comprehend the idea that someone would be brave enough to commit such a vile act in broad daylight like this. a matra tries to stop him, reassuring him the case is covered but cyno shakes his head, pushing further. ruby eyes fall to the body that lies on the ground, half covered by a white sheet. the pavement below is pooled in blood that seeps through the cracks and stains the cream colour of the tiles, soaking into the white sheet being used cover for privacy. he takes note of that familiar anklet around the victim's ankle and it feels as though his whole world just came crashing. "general mahamatra, sir?" the matra from before asks wearily, appearing beside him as cyno is yet to say anything. there's a lump in cyno's throat that won't budge even though he keeps swallowing, he tries to put it down to dehydration in the summer heat but he's never struggled before, "eremites, sir." cyno wanders to you slowly, catching sight of the way your familiar hair spills out from underneath the sheet. he was hoping that the anklet was just coincidence, it was a gift from him when he'd ventured to aaru village one day but that was most definitely your hair - it was definitely your hand that peeked from the cloth. he shakily reaches for it, attempting to keep his calm in front of so many eyes. the voices whisper, gasps and sorrowful when he kneels next to your body in a rigid silence, his knuckles white from his grip on your cold hand. he chews his tongue, hoping you'll wake up and scold him for having such a strong grip and not being more gentle but you don't budge. the sheet doesn't lift, the blood doesn't disappear as if it was a bad dream. he knew you'd be in danger at his side. he has enemies, many of them. ones he has never cared for before, never bothered to utter an ounce of consideration in their direction but the man was very much aware of their existence. you was a weak spot for him, a vulnerable moment with soft, shared kisses and gentle, lingering touches. he should have known. the guilt eats at him, it follows him to bed that night where the empty pillow beside him witnesses his pillow soak in salty tears.

tighnari was head over heels from the beginning. you'd finished your studies in the amurta darshan and had promptly beelined for the avidya forest to gandharva ville, much happier out in the nature than you had been cooped up in the house of daena. if anything, he also saw you as the most dedicated forest ranger in gandharva ville. he loved that particularly.

he related to your need to protect the avidya forest with your life, you was so passionate about it but he didn't expect you to physically use your life to protect it.

there was definitely something protruding from your chest, no amount of blinking was going to make it vanish now. tighnari's tail droops as he rushes to your side, sending one last arrow in the direction of a treasure hoarder, piercing him in the neck. you're alone now, left in a vulnerable state as tighnari eases you against the green grass you've valued more than your own life. "nari?" you ask softly, confused as to why those precious, fluffy ears were flattened against black hair the way that they were. tighnari assumed the adrenaline of battle hadn't fully worn off and you had caught a glimpse of the arrow buried into your heart, which was beginning to slow its pulse as it keeps your body going. blood oozes out of your ranger uniform, something you wore with the utmost pride. "i'm here, love," he chokes out, a sharp sensation stinging at emerald eyes as he pulls his gaze away from the arrow lodged in your chest to those eyes he treasured so much, "you know i love you - right? you'll always... be mine?" your brows knit together, eyes glancing over his face. why does he look so sad? the concept of him reminding you foxes mate for life was nothing new but he always seemed so joyous when he'd remind you - this was different. there's a stiff feeling in your chest and your eyes fall down to it, where tighnari's gloved hand is gently laid around an arrow pierced into your skin. he's not attempting to pull at it nor apply pressure, he is simply keeping his hand close to the thing that meant the most to him - your heart, specifically while it's still beating. "i love you too, nari." you finally realise what's happening, the corners of your vision going dark and hazy as you admire the fox male once more. he'll be the last thing you see, laying on the grass of your home, the avidya forest. he'll be your last comfort, the last thing you smell and touch. you know it was reckless to have put your life on the line in such a way but you would have done anything to protect the forest. tighnari lets out a wail into the calm of the avidya forest, praying that someone hears his cries of sorrow. your skin is cold to touch hours later but tighnari has not left your side, his tail curled around your body with only an emptiness left in his chest in your absence.

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appocalipse · 10 months ago

Note

hello! can I please request "I really, really want to kiss you right now." with steve and our shy!reader friend?!

here you go my love! hope you like it ♥ 1.3 k

The rain catches the two of you by surprise.

It pours down relentlessly, the cold droplets stinging your skin as you and Steve hurry towards his car, sadly parked way too far away from the charming flea market you had somehow dragged him to earlier that afternoon.

Well, not really dragged exactly — Steve himself had volunteered to give you a ride the moment he heard you telling Robin how much you wanted to go and see if you could find some new furniture for your apartment, maybe even some decorations. But you felt as if you had dragged him there because, c'mon, what kind of guy thinks walking around a flea market with a friend is any fun?

And to top it off, the summer rain had come out of nowhere, sending everyone desperately running for shelter somewhere. Some lucky vendors had their tents already set up when it started, others began trying to cover their wares with tarps or whatever else they had at hand. A good number of them simply started to pack up their things to leave though, as did most of the potential customers who had been taking a look around — you and Steve included.

He had left his BMW in the parking lot of a closed store. It had seemed much closer before than it does now, as you and him run through the rain, palms over your heads to try to shield your faces from the relentless water.

You accidentally step into a puddle. Water splashes around your ankle, wetting the bare skin all the way up to your calf. You mutter a curse under your breath, deeply resenting your decision of wearing a summer dress today. "Oh, great."

Steve chuckles, looking over his shoulder to you. Then what you can only assume is instant karma happens, and he slips and falls into a larger puddle, splashing water all over his pants and shoes.

You try to hold back, you really do, but the laughter is already building up inside of you, threatening to come out. And besides, he makes no move to get up, sitting there on the ground all wet, looking up at you like an abandoned puppy.

You giggle, which makes him laugh as well.

"Sure," he says, "go ahead and laugh."

"Sorry, I'm sorry!" you choke out, trying to hold back your laughter as you approach him, offering one hand to help him up. "Are you okay?"

But of course he is. Except for the blow to his ego, that is. And now, in addition to just being wet, his jeans are also partially stained with mud.

And the t-shirt — which is white, no less — starts to stick to his skin, giving you a view you didn't ask for but that's certainly hard to ignore.

Steve accepts your hand, but you use both hands and too much force to pull him up, so he almost collides with you when he finally stands, his face inches from yours. You both laugh, because it was supposed to be funny — his head almost bumps into yours — but he grabs your shoulders and the remnants of the laughter from before slowly die when you realize without a doubt that he's looking at your mouth.

And you at his. In the rain. Doesn't get any more romantic than this.

Except for the fact that Steve is Steve, the former King Steve, the boy who had a pretty girl on his arm every week, while you are...you.

You're not sure who pulls away first, who clears their throat, changes the subject. But before you know it, you're sitting in the passenger seat of Steve's car, staring at the dashboard as lightning cuts across the darkened sky in the distance, a storm clearly brewing.

And it's worse. This feeling you have whenever you look at him or he says your name or anyone mentions his…it's somehow worse like this, in this moment, inside this car.

As if that wasn't enough, he offers you a jacket that he takes from the backseat. His jacket.

"Thanks," you murmur, taking the jacket and putting it on. It's warm. You remember the last time you saw him wearing it and resist the urge to close your eyes for a moment, inhaling his scent that still clings to the fabric. It's like a mix of laundry detergent, soap, and something uniquely Steve.

You feel a blush creep up your neck, and you look away, trying to focus on something else. Anything else.

He hasn't started the car yet, you notice. Perhaps he's considering waiting to see if the weather will get a little better? It doesn't look that bad that it's not safe to drive, you think.

“Sorry for dragging you here for nothing,” you say, when it’s clear he’s not going to say anything.

“You didn’t drag me,” Steve assures you, sitting half to the side to look at you. "And what do you mean, for nothing? You wanted to look at the furniture, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but we didn't buy anything and now you're all wet."

He chuckles so quietly you almost don't hear. "I didn't come here to buy furniture."

You think about asking what he actually came for, but that would be a stupid question, wouldn't it? A hope of hearing something that he probably won't say. He came so you could buy what you wanted. He's a good friend like that.

Still, when you turn your head to look at him, there's something different in the way he's looking back at you. You smile, hoping to God he doesn't notice the nervous edge behind it, "What?"

Steve opens his mouth. He's pretty sure he didn't give those words permission to come out, and yet they come out anyway, hoarse and low, "I really, really want to kiss you right now."

You watch his lips move as he speaks, but it's like your mind can't process the words.

And once you do, you blink, not quite sure what to say to that. Your heart feels like it's trying to escape your chest, a wild thing thumping against your ribs. But there's something else in there too. Something warm. Something you haven't felt in a long time.

The front seats are close enough, so Steve reaches out, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing across your lips. "I've wanted to for a while now," he whispers, leaning in closer.

You feel hot all over, the air in the car suddenly too thick to breathe.

Steve's fingers trail down your cheek, his thumb tracing the outline of your bottom lip, teasing you. It's a slow, deliberate movement, as if he's memorizing every inch of your face, every second of this moment. "Do you want me to?" he whispers, and the teasing tone in his voice makes your stomach flip over.

Your mind is spinning, but somehow you manage to force out the words, "Yes." You mean it. God, you mean it.

Steve's smile grows in that charming, lopsided way he has when he's happy. You can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leans in closer, closer…and then his lips are there, pressing softly against yours. Feather-light at first, like he's testing the waters, making sure this is what you want. But when you part your lips, letting him in, he deepens the kiss, his tongue dancing with yours in a slow, lazy rhythm, one of his hands coming up to cup the back of your head, holding you to him.

And then, all too soon, he pulls back, his forehead resting against yours as he catches his breath. "Was that…was that okay?"

You smile, leaning as close to him as you can without jumping over the gearshift.

"It was more than okay."

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dreamescapeswriting · 9 months ago

Text

No Regrets ~ HJS [MATURE WARNING]

CONTINUATION OF THIS PIECE

WORD COUNT: 3.9K

GENRE: Mafia AU, fluffy, first meeting, meet cute, fluffy jisung, soft mafia jisung being soft for reader, always there to protect her, bank heist and shes injured in the process, SMUT MINORS DNI, protected sex, sex in front of the fireplace, oral (female recieving)

PAIRING: Jisung x Fem!Reader

⤜MASTERLIST

TRIGGER WARNING: Mentions of blood, killing, stealing, heists, reader being held at gun point,

Lightening slashed through the darkened sky making you jump a little and scoot closer to Jisung, the rain pounding against the windows of a cafe. Somewhere that had become your refuge from the storm that was growing worse by the second. Jisung glanced over at you, ever since you'd walked into the cafe he'd barely been able to take his eyes off you but he'd been trying. Not once was he able to though, it was like there was some kind of curse drawing him to you.

Years had passed since he'd ever been with a woman and he'd practically sworn off everyone he met, not wanting to get distracted by them but there was just something about you, something so warm and fresh that drew him in.

"Are you sure you don't need anything else?" Jisung questioned, his gaze solely on you as you shivered a little, you felt frozen to your core but Jisung's men had already given you a shirt, a pair of pants and a blazer you didn't want to take anything else from them. That was, you didn't want to be in debt to the man beside you.

All of the stories you'd heard about the man from the underworld but they'd all failed to mention how kind his eyes were or just how sweet he was...toward you at least. It was a strange contrast between what people said he was like and what he was really like, something you hadn't really been expecting until now.

"No...T-Thanks." Your chattering teeth gave you away before Jisung snapped his fingers at his men, who swiftly sprung into action. Moments later, a steaming cup of hot chocolate was in front of you and a dry blanket was wrapped around your shoulders.

"I can start the fireplace if it gets too much," Jisung offered, his chest tightening as he watched you closely, eyeing you up as if he were waiting for you to shiver and give him the chance to jump in and be the hero of your story. Not that Jisung was the hero in anybody's story, he was always the villain.

There was something about you that made him feel at ease, something that made him feel at peace as you sat beside him but there was also a nagging feeling inside of him, one that wanted him to protect you. It happened the second you'd barged into the cafe, shivering and dripping wet onto the floor. It was the reason he'd demanded his men into action before they could kick you out, there was no way he was going to send you out in the freezing weather.

"I hate the storms too," He finally mentioned, whispering so that none of his men around could hear the admission come from his lips. He'd never been one to tell people what scared him, not when it could possibly be used against him but you seemed in need of someone to talk to.

"You do?" Your voice cracked a little as you swallowed the lump in your throat, the tightness in your body loosening ever so slightly as Jisung put you at ease.

"Yeah, ever since I was a little boy they always scared me." He holds his cup in his hands, letting the warm ceramic warm up his cold hands.

"I would never have expected you to be scared of anything." You admit shyly before he beams at you, he liked that you were feeling comfortable around him more than he cared to admit.

"There's a lot you might not know, but I'd be happy to fill you in." Your cheeks warmed at the kindness coming from him and you nodded.

The storm raged on outside but the cafe was suddenly becoming a warm sanctuary amidst the darkness. It was an unlikely friendship growing between you both, a mafia underworld leader and a frightened girl who'd stumbled into the cafe by accident.

"My favourite colour is pink but if anyone ever asks it's black," Jisung smirked at you, making you giggle a little as you sipped on your drink.

"Mine's blue, but the colour of the sky on a really nice summer's day is blue." You admit to him, smiling while you forget the storm completely as you get to know Jisung just that little bit more.

The night had flown by too quickly for either of you and you hated as you saw the sun coming up through the windows.

"We stayed up all night?" You laughed nervously, trying to remember the last time you'd ever stayed up this late and it must have been years ago. The light burnt your eyes as you and Jisung stepped out onto the streets, you were still dressed in his guard's clothes and he couldn't help the jealous twinge he got thinking about it.

"Must have," He chuckles softly looking around for a car for you but there was none in sight except for his own.

"Vinny," He whispered in a low voice to one of his men nearby.

"Make sure she gets home safely." Vinny nodded understanding the unspoken order from his boss,

"Don't worry boss, I got this," Vinny told him as he got into one of the waiting cars and Jisung turned his attention to you. Searching in his pockets and handing you a small piece of paper with his number scrawled on it.

"In case you need anything. Don't hesitate to call." You gently took the piece of paper, staring down at it with a mix of surprise and gratitude flickering across your face. You never would have expected his number after a night of just talking,

"Thanks." You whispered before carefully tucking into your pocket and making your way to the car with Vinny inside.

"I'll be seeing you," Jisung called out, watching you with one last lingering gaze before you disappeared into the city and Jisung couldn't shake the weight of concern sitting on his chest.

He knew the dangers that lurked in the streets, especially to someone as unsuspecting as you. He was glad Vinny was going to drive you home but something still weighed down on him as he thought about you more and more being alone and he would do anything to ensure your safety. Maybe he could hire someone to watch over you all of the time, or would that be going too far?

"Boss, we have a meeting with Dante Moretti in an hour." A voice informed him snapping him from his daydream and he sighed nodding his head, there was no rest for the wicked.

"Can you make sure Vinny stays close to Yn, I want updates on how she's doing." He grumbled as he got into his car, ensuring your safety felt as though he was protecting a piece of his own humanity in the chaos of the world and he was going to do as much as he could to keep you safe.

Someone had been following you and you knew who, he wasn't as sneaky as he thought he was since he was almost 7 feet high and built like he could knock down a brick house with one flick of his wrist. Sighing a little you turned on your heel making Vinny almost crash into you from how abruptly you'd stopped in place.

"Vinny, I'm fine." You told him plainly, staring up at the man who looked as though he'd barely slept a wink in days. Ever since your rendezvous with Jisung a week ago, Vinny had been outside of your apartment and everywhere you went. Part of you thought it was sweet that Jisung had asked him to watch over you but after no contact with Jisung, it was beginning to get annoying.

Maybe he did this to everyone he met and the reason Vinnny was watching you was because Jisung wasn't sure you could be trusted but you'd had enough. You wanted some space and Vinny following you everywhere was drawing attention to you that you didn't need nor want.

"Boss said to watch you." You scoffed a little, if Jisung was that bothered about you being looked after he should have come to check on you himself rather than sending a babysitting,

"Your boss can come and watch me himself, I don't need an armed guard." You gestured to the gun that was on his belt and he glanced at it, it was something all of Jisung's men were issued with.

"But-"

"Go and take a break, I'm going to the bank...okay? Nothing bad is going to happen to me in there. Go get food or something." You pointed to the cafe across the street and he bit down on his lip, disobeying a direct order from Jisung meant he'd probably lose his life.

"I have to go, I have a meeting and if I'm late I'll never get the loan I need." You mumbled, straightening out your outfit and walking in the direction of the large building while Vinny looked at you. He knew you were right and he needed a break and what was five minutes going to do if he went to grab a muffin?

The glass shattered around you as loud popping sounds began to ring out, you ducked a little as you flinched. The man you had been speaking to you dropped to the floor instantly and frowned,

"LADIES AND GENTLEMAN!" Someone screamed out, your eyes darted in the direction of the voice and your heart began to race. Armed robbers were storming into the bank, their faces covered by clown masks and you cursed yourself for sending Vinny away.

"Everyone be calm and do as we say and no one has to die." The main man called out as he turned to a man reaching for his wife only to shoot him in the head. Panic gripped you as you sank down onto the floor, none of the masked men had been able to see you since you'd been toward the back of the bank. With trembling fingers you began to hit Jisung's number, you'd had him saved ever since your night together and he was the only person you could think of helping you right now.

As you continued the rings Jisung answered and your voice barely came out above a whisper,

"Jisung, please...you have to do something." You held your hand over your mouth trying to calm yourself down, if any of them found you, you'd be dead.

"There are robbers...they're holding us hostage." You whispered frantically. Jisung's blood ran cold as he listened to the desperation in your voice. Without hesitating he sprang into action, issuing orders to his men and racing to the scene.

"I'll be right there baby, just stay hidden," He kept you on the phone as he raced to his car, he needed to make sure you were safe.

"Where's Vinny baby, is he with you?" Your breathing was frantic but you tried your best to focus on Jisung rather than the yelling and shouting that was going on.

"I sent him away, to eat...I-I thought I would be okay," You sniffled a little and Jisung wanted to reach through the phone and comfort you, wipe away the tears he knew that were streaming down your face.

"I'll kick his ass for listening to you," He chuckled trying to make you laugh but your breathing stilled as you heard someone coming toward you. You swallowed the lump in your throat as you held your breath trying to hide further under the table,

"Found you, sweetheart." Someone sneered, his voice dripping with malice as he dragged you out from your hiding spot his grip so tight you knew it was going to leave a bruise.

"Yn?! YN?!" Jisung screamed down the phone, forcing his men to drive faster down the streets toward the bank you were in.

Tears welled up in your eyes as you felt the cold metal of the gun pressed against your temple, you were shoved through the bank toward the front once again.

"Lookey what we have! An example to make of." He smirked as you struggled against his grip, your heart pounding with every beat as you thought about a way to get out of this or a way to drag it out.

"What did we say? Stay calm and no one will get hurt, it seems someone can't listen to rules." The metal of the gun was dragged down your cheek until he placed it underneath your chin, the tears free-falling as you whimpered a little.

Suddenly, amidst the chaos of the other men shuffling money into banks, the sound of sirens pierced through the air, signalling that police were outside. The grip the man had on you faltered for a second, his attention on the threat of the police. Mustering up all your strength and with the surge of adrenaline, you twisted free from his grasp, ducking out of his grasp and making a run for the safety of a desk. The man cursed as he scrambled after you, just as he got close a shadow emerged from nowhere and stared down at him.

"Jisung." You breathed out as he stared down at the man who had grabbed you, his moments were swift as he subdued the robber and put him to the floor aiming a gun at him this time.

"Did he hurt you? Did he touch you?" Jisung stared over at you, your breath catching in your throat as you watched him closely and you shook your head.

"I'm fine, just scared." You admitted as he nodded, turning his attention back to the other robbers who were all on their knees with their hands behind their heads. Everyone knew not to fuck with Jisung if they knew what was good for them and Jisung waited for the cops to come in.

"How are you doing?" Jisung asked as he sat beside you in front of the fireplace, after the robbery Jisung had taken you back to his place deciding that he didn't want you to be alone tonight.

"Fine, just like I was fine the other twenty-two times you asked," You said, teasing him a little for how often he'd been asking you the same question since getting there.

"I just want to make sure," He sighed, wrapping the blanket around your shoulder more and smiling at you. Your heart began to beat faster as you were cuddled so close to him.

"You're the first person I wanted to call when it happened." You admit, after the events of the day you weren't going to hold back telling him how you felt about him since there was no point, you never knew what could happen.

"Why?" He blushed a little as you watched him closely,

"I like you...a lot, and I wanted to hear from you one last time in case...In case I died-"

"I would never let anything happen to you," He whispered, clutching your hand in his and holding it on his lap.

"No?" You giggled a little as he ran his hand over your cheek and gently rubbed his thumb over your skin,

"No. I should kick Vinny's ass for leaving you." He grumbled, he'd wanted to do it after getting you from the bank but you'd begged him to take you home, not wanting to stay there any longer than you had to.

"I told him to." You reminded him but Jisung scoffed at the thought, the only person Vinny should have been listening to was Jisung and Jisung alone.

"He should only take orders from me." He grumbled a little and you inched closer to him,

"You're cute when you're mad." Your voice came out low and seductive as you gently kissed his jawline.

"Y-Yeah?" He stuttered a little as he felt you closer to him, his heart racing as you began to kiss his jaw again.

"Yeah, and hot when you're being the hero for me." You added before kissing his neck a little, his whole body flaming as his cheeks burnt bright red.

"Yn...Y-You went through something traumatic today, we should probably wait,"

"Why?" You stopped still and looked up at him, his eyes staring down at you, he wanted to, more than anything, but he didn't want to rush you into something.

"I don't want you to do something you'll regret." You smiled warmly at him,

"I promise I won't," You whispered before kissing him softly, his arms wrapping around your waist as the blanket you were wearing dropped from your shoulders.

Jisung carefully laid you down on the floor, kissing down your neck as he pulled the shirt you were wearing off your body.

"I've wanted you for so long," He groans, kissing down your bare chest and sucking on your nipples causing your back to arch off the floor.

"So don't waste any more time," You pleaded with him as he smirked, kissing down your chest until he reached your panty line which he quickly tore off you and threw somewhere in the room.

"I don't let anyone order me around but for you, I'll make an exception." He groans before putting your legs on his shoulders before pushing his face into your cunt. His tongue slowly licked through your folds as you let out a strangled moan of his name.

"J-Jisung," You cry out, your hands pushed into his hair and you ground your hips against his face needing more than what he was giving to you. Jisung didn't miss the hint though as he picked up the pace, eating you out like a man starved as he moaned against your clit sending vibrations up and down your spine.

"F-Fuck! R-Right there," You cry out as he continued to suck on your clit, his fingers pushing into you and sending you closer to the edge. Jisung smirked up at you, your eyes were screwed shut and your head rolled back as you gave into him.

"G-Gonna..Fuck I'm so close," You cried out louder, Jisung curled his fingers to your g-spot, moving his fingers at a brutal pace until you screamed his name out as your first orgasm hits you.

"So loud for me, I love it." He groans as you pull him up and kiss him deeply, not caring if you could taste yourself on his lips but just desperate for him.

"Want you," You grumbled as you quickly stripped him of the suit pants he was wearing and rubbed his cock through his boxers earning a grunt from him.

"I've got an IUD," You whisper to him when you see him searching around for something and he relaxes a little, kissing you deeply as you lay back down on the floor, your legs spread on either side of his hips.

"You sure?"

"Jisung, please," You whined out, spreading your legs further apart as Jisung lined himself up, easing into you at a slow and torturous pace.

"M-More," You begged as you rocked your hips up a little until he was pushed to the hilt, a strangled moan leaving both your throats. Jisung smirked at you as he slowly pulled out of you, only to slam back into you as you let out a scream of his name. He began thrusting into you, harder and faster than before as your hands dragged down his back.

"You're so tight, angel, you close?" He groans out as you clench around him again, moaning out his name as he continues his brutal pace. You'd had sex plenty of times but nothing compared to this, Jisung had you on the edge from just a few thrusts.

"You make me insane for you," He growls out as he continues to fuck into you,

"G-Good, you do the same for me," You whine out, rolling your hips in time to meet his thrust as you feel the familiar tension building inside of you.

"S-Shit, Jisung." You moan out as he grips your hips, his thrusts getting more determined,

"C-Cum for me angel," He groans, as if on his command you came around him, screaming his name out as you rocked your hips riding out your orgasm. Jisung wasn't far behind as he panted into your neck, his hips slowly to a still making you giggle a little.

"Let's go and get cleaned up," He whimpered a little, his hips shaking as you nodded and wriggled beneath him.

The morning sun filtered through the blinds in Jisung's room and he cursed himself for not getting blackout ones like he wanted to. The memories of last night began to filter through his mind leaving him smirking as reached out beside him. He frowned, a pang of unease gripping his chest as he stared at the empty space beside him. Had you regretted the night before?

With a heavy sigh, Jisung rose from the bed and rubbed the back of his neck. Your clothes were still in his room along with your bag and phone which meant you were still around somewhere he just had to find you. He padded down the stairs, an overwhelming sense of gratitude filling him when he saw you standing in the kitchen with your hands on your hips yelling at someone.

"I wanted to cook for him, what's the big deal!?" You cried out at the old lady who had swatted your hands away with a spatula when she found you cooking.

"He only lets me cook for him, it's the safest way." You rolled your eyes, about to tell her who you were when someone wrapped their arms around you.

"Come back to bed, let Sophia make our food so I can fuck your brains out," He whispered in your ear, biting down on your ear as you let out a small moan following him without question.

"So no regrets?" He asked, threading his fingers between yours as he led you back to the stairs.

"No regrets," You smirked kissing him on the cheek and rushing off up the stairs to his room again.

"I hate you," Felix's date said as he stood beside her, her arms folded across her chest as she stared at him looking completely pissed off that she had to be there.

"I hate you more, my little firecracker," He smirked down at her and you cuddled closer to Jisung as you watched the exchange.

"It's strange that's how they express their love," You giggled a little as Jisung took your hand in his, gently kissing the top of it before pulling you into his chest.

"Hmm, think we should uninvite them from the wedding?" Jisung smirked as you slapped his chest softly, hushing him. A charity event wasn't the place to announce your upcoming wedding, you wanted to do it properly and at a dinner with all of them together.

"We'll see you later," Seungmin's date whispered before hugging you and running off toward the stairs with Seungmin.

"They're going to fuck," Jisung laughed softly making you roll your eyes at him.

"They could just be wanting a private moment," You elbowed him in the chest as he chuckled to himself he knew what the couple were up to, since he and you had snuck off at parties to do the same thing plenty of times in the past.

"To fuck." He added as you groaned at him, pulling him to go and dance with you.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @just-aelia @choisoorin @straykids5star @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @scarletemeterio @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @lensfilm @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopsstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @xyahrinx @katsukis1wife @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan @blairscott @4-chan-inpadella @niktwazny303 @moonlight-the-writer @armystay89 @hadassahchan @yxngbxkkie @myyouthdonut @extrhotjne @ca11me3mily @elissasimp

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st4rr-girrl · 1 year ago

Text

Saviors

summary; When you have nowhere to stay- and you're falling tired- you turn to the Crescent Hotel to sleep. You roomed next to four people, and they help you when something traumatic happens in your hotel room.

warnings: Cussing, hella paranormal activity, major? injuries, anxiety attack. (i changed a few things from the video tho)

(a/n this post is kind of ass and yall keep liking it so ilysm but this is so shitty lmaoo i promise my writing had a glow-up)

pairing: colby brock x fem reader

Now playing; see how I circle / labyrinth

Up next; oblivion -grimes

Genesis-grimes

The sky started to darken, mirroring my negative mood. I sighed, feeling fatigue slowly start to take over my body.

Turning my black car's driving wheel, I drove into the 'Crescent Hotel" parking lot. I sighed, stepping out of the car and opening the trunk.

I grabbed an outfit, and shoved it into a bag before grabbing my purse and locking the car up.

I glanced up at the balcony of a room, seeing a dark figure stare at me intensely. My eyes widened and I felt goosebumps form on my skin.

The night was dark and cold, forcing a shiver make its way up my spine. I crossed my arms over my chest, as I shivered in my white dress. I approached the hotel doors, and quickly made my way inside, protecting myself from the cold misty air that surrounded me.

I walked in, feeling a heavy amount of energy fall onto my shoulders. I frowned deeply, before spotting an adorable black cat seated on the couch. I walked up to it and pet its soft fur, feeling my heart become warm. A smile grew on my face as I temporarily forgot about the dark, sad and longing feeling that lingered in the air, before walking up to the front desk.

"Hi, can I get a room for one night, please?" I offered a kind smile to the lady seated behind the counter. She returned the smile, and handed me a room key. 'Room 201'

"You'll be staying at room 201. That'll be 130$." My eyes widened at the price, but I was desperate for sleep. I opened my purse and grabbed my wallet, pulling out 150$.

"Keep the change." I smiled, collecting my stuff before heading up the spiraled stairs.

I was walking down a hallway, when I heard a faint "Damn baby! Back it up on over here, if ya will." In an accent. I turned around, fear gripping onto my chest. There was nobody there. I was completely alone. I frowned deeply, before rushing back to the stairs.

It took me a while, but I finally made it to my hotel room. I sighed happily, despite the feeling of sadness surrounding me.

I noticed a brunette boy leaving hotel room 202 and I smiled kindly at him. He returned the smile, as my eyes wandered to the camera located in his left hand. I tilted my head and raised a brow a little bit.

"Oh. I'm sorry." He laughed. "I'm a youtuber. Me and my friends are recording a video."

I was still confused. "What's so special about this place?" I looked around. I acknowledged the negative and sad energy around me, but shrugged it off.

"You don't know?" He asked me curiously.

"Know what?" I was a lot more confused now.

"This hotel is haunted." My eyes widened. it makes sense now. The figure on the balcony and the sad energy around here. No wonder.

"That makes sense." I shrugged, rubbing my hands up and down my arms.

"Why? Did you see something?" He asked me, concern swirling behind his blue eyes.

"Yeah I saw a figure on a balcony, but i just thought it was a person. Though it was creepy enough to give me goosebumps. It also feels sad. And angry here. Like there some sort of longing feeling. I also got catcalled by something that wasn't there. " I explained, giggling a bit at the end.

"Do you mind if i record you explaining that? If not that's alright. But it would be great to let the fans know."

"Sure, Mr. Popular." I smirked teasingly. He rolled his eyes playfully and turned on the camera and angled it at me.

"Okay so tell us what happened again...?" He trailed, searching for something.

"Y/n." I smiled.

"Okay so tell us what happened, Y/n."

"Soo, when I arrived here, I had no clue it was haunted until this handsome stranger told me." I smiled and winked jokingly. "But before I came in here, I saw a figure standing on a balcony and it was just.... staring at me. It gave me goosebumps. And after that, the second I stepped foot into the hotel the energy surrounding me felt, sad. Like previous people here were longing for something. And a bit of anger was hidden beneath the longing and sadness. I also got catcalled, but when I turned around I was alone. Whatever happened here must've been pretty bad." I explained for a second time but in more detail. "I still don't know what happened here, I just know that it's haunted."

I smiled at the boy behind the camera. "I'm colby, by the way." He mirrored my smile.

"Thanks for letting me know what I was getting myself into, Colby." I giggled as he put the camera down.

"Yeah, Sure." He laughed, his deep voice sending butterflies to my stomach. Heat rises to my cheek before he continued. "If you need anything me and my friend, Sam, will be in here. And maybe our other two friends. You're also welcome to join us, we're gonna be ghost hunting."

"Yeah, I'll consider it." I smiled kindly once more. "Thanks, Colby."

"No problem." he waved, returning the smile before walking down the hall. I opened my hotel room, rushing in and throwing my bag on my bed.

I sighed happily, finally being able to sleep. I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, and I shivered a bit before trying to push the thought to the back of my mind.

I changed out of my white dress, and replaced it for pajama bottoms and a long sleeve shirt with holes for my thumbs.

I put fresh socks on before turning out the light and quickly hopping into the big bed.

I saw something in the corner, just before fatigue took over my body.

'Wake up' A females voice whispered in my ear.

I shot out of bed quickly, my eyes wide. Sweat dripped down the side of my head as I looked around my room. "Hello??" I said out loud. No response.

I shrugged it off as my imagination, and tried to fall back asleep.

—

I rubbed my eyes, tiredly sitting up.

“Why do I keep waking up.” I whispered to myself, picking up a clock that rested on a nightstand to the left of me.

“3:33.” I read out loud. “Isn’t that an Angel number?”

I shrugged it off, before I heard a mumbling. My head shot up and stared into the darkness that lie before me.

I squinted, trying to see into the black fog. I saw a figure. Staring at me. Menacingly. My eyes widened as I froze in fear.

A faint “What do you want?” Tore from my parted lips.

It didn’t respond, to nobody’s surprise, yet still stood there.

I sat in the king sized bed, slowly building up to courage to make a run for it.

When the courage was built, I leapt out of bed and ran for the door, only to be flung away from it.

I hit the wall, with a loud ‘thud,’ before landing on the floor.

Tears welled up in my eyes after I groaned in pain. My back was definitely gonna be bruised.

I crawled for the door as fast as I could, but got violently dragged by an invisible force. I dragged my nails against the carpet.

Once it let me go I quickly rushed to stand up but got aggressively pushed against the wall. The side of my face slammed into the wall, as an unbearable pain shot through my cheek at the violent contact. A Bible flew through the air and hit me in the face. Blood dripped down my nose as I cried in pain. I heard loud knocking on my door and my eyes widened.

“Y/n!? Are you okay?!” A familiar voice shouted.

I tried to get to the door but cried out when a sharp, stinging pain shot through my back.

I sobbed, feeling myself get dragged once more before the entity let go. I jumped up and ran to the door, flinging it open. I was met with four concerned faces, three of them being un-familiar.

I sobbed into my hands, as the traumatic event played over and over in my head.

“What the fuck happened?!” Colby asked.

“Are you okay?!” The blonde boy next to him asked.

“Th-there was something in there!!” I cried out as a blonde girl rubbed my back comfortingly.

“Come to our room for a second. We’ll help you and you can tell us everything.” A black haired girl said, her brows furrowed in worry.

I nodded, following the two girls as the two boys checked my hotel room for anyone.

We entered their hotel room and I sat down on the red sofa.

The blonde girl brought back a tissue and a cold water bottle.

I used the tissue for my nose, after giving a small thanks. I placed the water bottle on the huge bruise on my cheek.

“I’m kris.”

“Celina. And the other boys are Sam and Colby.” Celina said.

“Th-thank you guys.. so much.” You smiled gratefully.

“What happened?” Sam asked.

“I-I don’t know… there was this thing and it-it threw me around like I was a fucking rag doll.” I joked a bit, before wincing from the pain radiating on my back.

“I-I think it scratched my back.” I added. Colby came over to me and asked if he could raise my shirt. I nodded and turned around while he lifted it up.

Though I couldn’t see, they all had wide eyes and opened mouths.

“Holy shit!” Sam exclaimed. “Y/n do you mind if I record this?” He asked kindly, okay with either answer.

“You can, I don’t mind, it just hurts really bad.” I said in a pained voice. “Colby can you take a picture of it and show me?” I asked softly.

He said yes before snapping a picture of it. I stared at the picture in shock, a giant bruise on my side and three, long, bloody scratch marks starting from my upper back and ending right before the waistband of my shorts.

“Holy shit” i mimicked sam just as he started recording my injuries. I turned around and showed the rest.

“Do you wanna stay in our room for the rest of the night?” Colby offered.

“Yes please.” I said, a pleading look lingered in my eyes. “I don’t wanna go back into that room.” Tears welled up in my eyes as Celina and Kris both side-hugged me.

“It’s ok, Y/n you don’t have to.” Kris said, her brows furrowed.

“You’re safe with us. Especially the boys cause they’re a lot stronger than us.” Celina joked, attempting to lighten the mood. I laughed a long, wiping my tears.

“Thanks guys.” I said gratefully.

“Anytime.” The group postponed further exploration of the building so they could make sure I was alright.

Celina and Kris called it a night, heading to their own room to sleep or try to contact anything.

I started to get sleepy while Colby was treating my wounds. “I’m tired.” I admitted.

“I’m almost done, just try to stay up for one more minute.” He applied ointment to the scratches and ice to the bruises.

I was definitely gonna tell the hotel about this in the morning. Even though some people wouldn’t believe me, it was worth a shot.

Once Colby was done in informed me of it and I crawled under the sheets and lied in the middle of the bed.

Sam and Colby lied on either side of me, and yet I still unconsciously cuddled closer to Colby.

“Goodnight.” I sighed, feeling safe with the two boys I had only just met.

“Goodnight, Y/n.”

—

The end.

#sam and colby #colby brock #crescent hotel #sam golbach #colby brock x reader #colby x reader #callmekris #celinaspookyboo #sam x reader #sam golbach x reader #callmekris x reader #fem reader #celinaspookyboo x reader #Sam and Colby #sam and colby x reader

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fudgechocolatepuff · 26 days ago

Text

a lovebirds bloom! (pumpkin pie edition) pt.ii🍁

keigo t. x fem. reader | wholesome fluff :)

pt.i of a lovebirds bloom

summary ⋆ ꪆৎ you with an unoccupied life intertwine paths with the fastest and busiest hero, where you both catch a break in your tranquil flower shop. lots of love in the air begin to unfold ꪆৎ

sneak peek ➸ you bump into the winged hero again in the fall season by chance, but neither of you two mind.

word count : 2.6k

Brisk air flew over your face upon wiping the window for the -mpth time today.

Although you carefully scrubbed at the glass to rid it of any visible blemishes left from the busy workday, the window remained foggy, dewy droplets sticking from the outside and obscuring your view of the street beyond.

The sky above was nothing short of clear, the stars twinkled from above in contrast to the darkening of the blue sky, now a navy-black colour.

In response to the sudden draft drawn in from the decreasing temperatures outside, your fingers wrapped around the end-loops of your scarf and pulled, tightening its hold on your neck in hopes of trapping the heat there.

If only the small window tucked in the back would close all the way instead of inviting a day-lasting breeze to nip at the tips of every customer’s ears.

Aside from the chill air that bit at the tips of your fingers, you grew more satisfied looking over the decor that you were tasked to put up, just in time for the incoming autumn season.

No matter for what season you decorated for, the warm-toned paint of light cafè brown matched every occasion.

This time—since you were put in charge of the aesthetics of the shop—you made sure that the festivity of the harvest-halloween period would radiate more than the past years’ decorations, and draw in more customers!

Perhaps, if you tried hard enough, you could draw back the attention of the winged hero.

You shook your head to snap yourself out of that ridiculous fantasy.

Okay—sure, you missed the interaction exchanged between you and the hero, but you doubted he’d ever come back, let alone acknowledge the tension he’d left behind when he dashed through the doors that spring morning.

It was embarrassing! Being stuck up on a menacingly short conversation was not of your character, especially as it was confined in your professional workspace.

But you couldn’t deny, he teased and teased your little talk together, leading himself on to flirt and flatter you. Hell, you even let him enamor you, blushing at every comment he made about you.

“He was a hero though, of course he’d do a bit of romancing, that was his way of making talk with any woman around his age!” you reminded yourself, the pride that resided in your heart shrinking to embarrassment.

After letting yourself stare at the wall and ponder whether you should quit your job and start a new life in Europe, you continued your ritual of turning off each lamp scattered throughout the shop, appreciating the orange-ish glow it reflected onto the fresh stock of pumpkins and giving the space a homely fall ambience.

You retrieved your coat that hung on the teensy wooden rack, slipping it through your arms as the tired began to rush into your body.

Hanging your bag over your shoulder, you stepped toward the double doors, not before letting your nails glide past and tap against each of the candles, a subtle waft of vanilla-pumpkin flowing through your senses.

You snatched a candle to take home, just as a souvenir, you’d pay it back tomorrow.

Flipping over the ‘open’ sign to ‘closed’, the bell of the door jingled as you walked out, with a bittersweet feeling now settling in your chest.

——————

With a swift movement, Hawks’ hands tugged at the collar of his jacket, the fluffy white trim heating his lower face the tiniest bit as he flew through the crisp air of the autumn night.

He groaned in annoyance, regretting his decision of leaving all his hot-pockets at home, his frown grimacing more at the feeling of his empty, cold pockets.

Hawks hated this time of weather. Not the merriment of outdoor activities, oh no—he loved the idea of pumpkin patches and apple picking.

It was the transition between summer and winter. The drastic decrease in temperatures after the steady 70s in the past weeks left the man shivering.

He wasn’t used to the dropping temperatures and neither was the rest of the civilians below, all bunched up in their coats and arms crossed tightly against their chests. This year brought quite the chilly autumn, maybe the coldest of them all.

“A cup of the hottest, frothiest and sweetest coffee would really hit the spot,” the hero thought, scanning over the masses of people, hopping his pupils over every few buildings in seek of refuge from the cool night and to be treated to a nice dessert-in-a-drink.

Just when his eyes lit up to the sight of a coffee shop that looked quiet enough to not be noticed, something else caught his eye rather quickly.

A lady dressed in a dark coat and a slightly brighter, but full and cozy scarf wrapped around her neck that held a peculiar yet chic pattern on the woven fabric.

She appeared to be running on an empty street—or… chasing something. Hawks looked ahead of the woman, to which he spotted a small cylinder container rolling downhill that the woman must’ve been trying to catch.

To this, Hawks laughed to himself softly, not to make fun of her, it just looked a little silly! The hero’s gloved hands cupped the outside of his mouth, where he huffed out to capture at least some tinge of warmth before descending onto the street of the escaping container.

If it had been some other instance where he wasn’t bored out of his mind and actually had to patrol an area, he would have just sent a feather on its dandy way to complete a small mishap like this one.

However, he had finally found an escape.

His boots landed on the smooth pavement with a quiet ‘tap’ at the end of the street as he crouched down to reach his hand out, catching what looked to be a candle just in time.

The woman who scurried down the road slowed her steps to catch her breath.

“It’s not every night where your own candles run away from you. This yours?” the winged hero held out his hand as he flicked his eyes to the woman.

But the cheeky smile instilled on his face suddenly dissipated into a wide-eyed stare, his question almost being cut off by his shock.

The bundled-up woman breathed in once again—finally able to breathe steadily—as she extended her own fingers to take back the candle, but tensed up as her pupils recalled the dark shade of the man’s gloves, and felt her shoulder blades freeze.

“Oh… you’re—“

“The flower shop girl,” Hawks remarked, a gentler smile blemishing his face, “the cute one who gave me the bouquet that Miruko adored.”

Despite the cold sitting in the air, the warmth still made its way onto your skin. Your voice shook nervously, trying to not make this situation as awkward as much as you could.

“It.. it was nothing really, just wanted to dedicate something for a hero I really admire.”

You shifted your hands to be clasped in front of you, just below your stomach as you spoke.

“Well, she really loved it. Seriously, if I had gone to another store I wouldn’t be called the ‘best feather flower fairy.’”

A laugh ran through from your chest as you imagined Miruko’s reaction to the “flower fairy” delivering her bouquet.

“I suppose you aren’t the kind of person to give her gifts like that.”

“Nah, not really. However, I just figured to get her something with a tad bit more of sentiment for her 25th,” he replied casually, still grasping the sweet scented candle in his hand.

“Oh, that’s so sweet! I bet she really got all emotional and recited an honoring speech dedicated to you, going on and on about you being so thoughtful.”

“If the speech was followed by a smack in the arm and a 2 minute-long cackle at me being so sappy, then yeah, I’d say she got a bit teary, almost gave me a hug, even.”

“I wonder how she’ll react next year.”

“Perhaps she’ll dedicate a memoir to me and buy me a bouncy house. A gift for a gift.”

Not many were able to joke with him like that. Of course, Hawks’ fans and acquaintances always felt ecstatic to chat with him, but there was no real talk—only jokes he’s heard millions of times before.

And he’d never want to offend them, but they were either quite boring, or too overwhelming.

Either way, they didn’t treat him as if he was any other person, just a man-doll that swooped by and teased or flirted those who wanted his attention.

With you, though, he could be sarcastic and not be looked at in a ‘were you joking?’ kind of way. He had almost forgotten what it was like to connect with another person on a deeper level.

No, this was a bit more sweeter, and he didn’t want to lose that.

Your delicate fingertips shooed hair out of your face as you looked onto the street, now completely drowned out by the darkness of the night, lit only by the orange-hued street lamps.

You didn’t even notice the lingering gaze the winged man held onto your face, glossing over your features hypnotically.

He stepped to your side and met with your eyes, “Hey, I know it’s getting a bit late, and you probably have work tomorrow. I just wanted to know if you’d wanna grab a quick bite with me. I saw a cafè down a couple’a blocks down.”

Although the fatigue in your body raged deep in your bones, you could endure it a bit longer for a nab of coffee.

——————

The walk to the cafè was fairly comfortable.

He noted to you that he even saw some pastries displayed on the window. A “sugar plum fairy” you called him, to which he grumbled at the reminder of the foolish name. What a baby.

You didn’t expect to be asked about the progress of the flower shop, but you gladly told him about the new pumpkins that came with a carving kit, how you’d probably snatch one for yourself to make a design.

“Wouldn’t a starry night be easier than a character like Hello Kitty? You’re quite the artistic type.��

“Shushh! I’ve always fantasized about a glowing hello kitty with a witch hat, don’t crush my dreams.”

“Poor little florist, wants to express all of her feelings through Hello Kitty! Don’t worry, sweets, I won’t do too much on you.”

“I’m glad you understand the severity of my fixation.”

“Heroes are always empaths, ya’know?”

“You not so much!”

In response, he side-eyed you and crossed his arms.

You shuffled your hands into the pockets of your coat, when a sudden thought slipped into your mind.

“Oh, by the way, my name’s (your name).”

“Hi, (name).”

——————

Upon arriving to the cafè, you felt like you could have fallen asleep on the leather-seated-booths that gave just the right of cushioning, but at this point you were starved for sugar.

Its style was a bit more foreign like—a banner next to the cashier framed the statement that read the inspiration came from Western Europe. The beauty and emptiness of the little shop just proved it to be a gem that you’d keep a secret forever.

Somehow, you found yourself matching Hawks’ vibe with the coziness of the café. Warm, golden, fuzzy.

You darted your eyes back down to the menu before Hawks could catch you staring at him, focusing on the ‘hot options’ category.

When you looked up to ask what he’d order, he was already staring you back, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“I saw that.” he taunted, a smug grin rested on his lips.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, the obvious humiliation present on your features, pursing your lips together with the intention of relieving your shame.

“It’s no problem, doll,” his assuring statement completely opposite of his teasing expression, “Do you know what you want?”

As if it was on cue, a waitress ambled her way over to your table, notepad in hand, not even batting an eye to the number two, “What would you guys like to order?”

“May I get a (hot drink of your choice), please?”

The waitress scribbled down your order and turned to the man across from you.

“Ah, can I have a hot white-mocha with an extra shot of caramel as well as a slice of pumpkin pie?”

“Alright, I’ll have those out for you two in a bit!”

You thanked her before she scurried on into the back, “It’s absolutely ludicrous that nobody else acknowledges the fact that you have a huge sweet tooth.”

“Sugar energizes my system more than caffeine, it’s just how I function.”

“Do you brush your teeth at night? Y’know, sugar can rot those pearly whites of yours.”

“Yes, mother, I brush my teeth every night,” he chuckled, adjusting the buckle of his watch.

“It can also give you a condition, don’t know if you’ve heard, but it’s called diabetes—“

“Yeesh, I didn’t know I’d come to this place just to be lectured about my tastes.”

“If it were anybody else, they’d say the exact same thing.”

“Oh, let me be.”

The two of you went silent after that, but in a comfortable moment of calm, engulfing the presence of each other and the faint chatter of the minimal customers that were also sat down in the cafè.

Hawks in that moment wondered if he twisted the crown of his watch back far enough, he could make this night last forever.

Before long, you’re both gulping down your hot beverages, a waterfall of heaven swirling in the brown paper cups in your hands.

After a short debate, the two of you decided that it was getting late, and you both had busy work days to deal with tomorrow, and so he took the pumpkin pie to-go and shared it with you on your walk to the train stop. It wasn’t rude courtesy if no one could see you two at the dead of night.

“How come you live a bit far from your flower shop?”

You chewed your piece of pie, both crust and filling, “I don’t know, honestly. I think after applying to all the jobs I had in mind, I drew little paper pieces from a hat to just decide and get it over with.”

“Decision making can be tough when it comes to jobs.”

“You get it,” crumbs of pie fell onto your coat as you responded with your mouth full.

The hero held the empty plate with sprinkles on crumbs left behind in his hand, and with your candle in the other as you two continued the walk, about 3 minutes away.

Stopping at the top of the stairs that descended down into the underground station, Hawks stopped you from going further.

“Look, I really enjoyed this little going out together, although it started out with me ending your game of tag with your candle.”

You huffed lightly looking back at the thought, a shy smile tugging at your face, “Yeah, I’m glad I bumped into you when I did.”

Placing the candle into your palms, he began to take a few steps back, and Hawks admitted to you, “I hope to see you soon, sweets, whenever time permits.”

You waved to him, “Thanks for the pie.”

He nodded his head and gave you a sweetly sick smile, before turning to walk away and prepare to fly off.

As much as you hated for this night to end, you could at least encourage him to come back to you.

“Come back to the shop soon!” you shouted from afar, hoping he would hear.

The winged hero turned his head, waving his hand and shouting back, “I will!” eventually flying away into the alluring night sky.

The next time you’d come back to this cafe, you promised to order pumpkin pie every time.

a/n: so sorry for not posting this sooner! i’ve been so caught up in my studies and i couldn’t find time to post! however i lovedd writing this and figured now would be the best time to publish this. i hope this makes up for my absence :) love you and happy october!!

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