#you cut me deep and left me wide open

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 4

(Rafe Cameron x Reader, series, 6.6k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

additional chapter cw: suggestive language/acts, mature readers only please

⇢ series masterlist

Rafe lifted his fist to knock on your door.

But before he could bring his knuckles to the wood, he froze, suddenly panicked that he had no idea what he was going to say when you appeared behind it. He stepped back, crinkling the package of the candy in his hands.

“Hey, so,” he whispered, practicing to himself. “I’m sorry if that was weird. Not weird. Sorry if that was uncomfortable? I don’t know why I’m saying sorry. Hey, so, Kelce is a dick, right? Maybe I should say sorry. Fuck…”

As he paced back and forth, the floor creaked below him. He was too preoccupied with trying to find the right words to notice he was making noise. He didn’t get a chance to finish his little script, though, because you opened the door.

He froze mid-sentence, eyes wide as he looked at you, realizing you clearly heard him talking to himself. Fuck, that’s embarassing. Before he could spiral about how much you had heard, he noticed the way your nose was red at the end, eyes glossy, and cheeks stained with black smudges. You had been really crying.

“Are you okay?” He asked quietly, struck with the urge to reach out and wipe the water from your face.

“What do you want, Rafe?” You sniffled.

“I wanted to…I was…” Rafe was lost, any words he had planned completely left him at the gut wrenching sight of your tears.

He shuffled on his feet a little as you watched him with an unforgiving glare. He had to come up with something.

He extended the candy to you, “...bringing you this.”

“Thanks but that beer made me sick, I’m not really in a snacky mood,” you snipped.

He felt like a kitten coming to his owner with a present, only to be scolded for bringing a dead bird into the house.

“Right,” he tried to recover. “I just thought maybe you’d want to keep them up here so no one takes them.”

You sighed heavily as you quickly took the candy from him, no lingering graze of your hands like you’d done so many times before the night had taken this turn for the worse.

“Okay,” he exhales. “I didn’t come up here to give you the candy.”

“What did you come up here for then?” You huffed.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” he admitted.

You turned from him, exasperated, and set the candy on the vanity across the room. He was tempted to follow you through the door frame, but he had the keen sense that he shouldn't push it, so he froze, feet inches from the threshold but not going over.

“And why wouldn’t I be okay?” You questioned, your back turned to him as you pulled a set of pajamas out of the top drawer, he swallowed any hope of seeing you change into them, knowing it was a delusional thought.

“Because of what Kelce said,” He brought his thumbnail up to his eyebrow, scratching a non-existent itch, desperate for something to do with his hands.

You turned quickly on your heel to face him, hands on your hips. The sudden shift in your features, from indifference to indignance, made him take a step back.

“What, did he say something?” You pressed.

“About how you, y’know used to-” 

“Rafe, I’m fine,” you cut him off, rubbing the backs of your hands across your cheeks to get some of the smeared makeup off.

Even though you always knew deep in your gut that he knew how you used to feel about him, the thought of him actually saying it out loud as you stood in front of him with tear stained cheeks was unbearable to you.

“But you’re crying,” he uttered, eyebrows bunched in concern. “I don’t want you to be alone, crying in your room all night.”

You stepped closer to him, and his heart leapt. Maybe you would invite him in, let him hold you until you felt better. But then, as quickly as it had risen, his heart fell again. You placed your hand on the door handle and glared at him.

“It wouldn’t be the first time.”

With a definitive click, you closed the door in his face.

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The patter of thick rain drops against your window is what finally roused you from your long sleep. You’d fallen asleep crying into your pillow, an old hobby you hadn’t practiced in years. The light coming through the window was dim, making you assume it was early morning, but when you checked your phone your eyes went wide at the time: 12:04pm.

You swung your legs over the bed with a groan, rising to look out the window. The sky was dark and angry, high waves foaming and crashing in the distance, a storm raging. The rain was so heavy the window was straining to keep it out.

When you opened your bedroom door, you nearly stepped on the tray of food that was sitting outside it. You leaned down and picked up the tray of scrambled eggs, toast and orange juice, smiling at the little note in your sister’s handwriting: “I’m so glad you’re here, we’re downstairs when you’re ready.” She signed it with a little heart.

After eating the breakfast in your bed, you steeled yourself to finally make your appearance downstairs. You were grateful that everyone had let you sleep in, but wondered if the delay in coming downstairs would only remind them of the dramatic way your night ended.

You placed your dishes in the kitchen sink, looking out at the backyard you’d fled so abruptly the night before. It was quite a different scene than the one you’d left, the pouring rain filling the porch with puddles, chairs strewn about from the heavy wind. You let last night play through your mind like a movie; Carter revealing your most scandalous moment during never have I ever, Tom’s big arms on either side of you as he flirted, Rafe’s hands in yours as you celebrated your beer pong dominance, Kelce’s words bringing all your fun to a screeching halt.

“No! Don’t shoot!” 

Yells from the large den adjacent to the kitchen pulled you from your thoughts. You padded quickly into the room to find the source of the commotion.

“That guy was on our team!” Kelce yelled again, ripping a video game controller from Maddie’s hands.

Maddie just laughed at his frustration, “well I didn’t like him so I killed him.”

“That’s not how the game works, Mads,” Kelce scolded.

“Well that’s how I play,” she shrugged, leaning back on the couch.

Several people were piled onto the oversized sectional sofa. Carter was sitting up on the cushion with her legs criss-crossed, Topper on the floor in front of her while she put little braids in his hair. Tom and Kelce sat on the other side of Maddie, eyes locked on the small TV screen as their fingers rapidly tapped on the controller buttons, deeply invested in the game.

In the far corner sat Rafe, reading something on his phone with a concerned look on his face.

“Love the hair, Topper,�� you said from behind the couch. 

Everyone’s eyes shot to you, except for Rafe, who stayed caught up in whatever was on his screen. You found his indifference to your arrival annoying, but also intriguing, wondering what had captured his attention so fully.

“You’re up!” Carter exclaimed, accidentally pulling Topper’s hair as she turned to you, making him wince.

“I’ve been up for a while, just needed some quiet time,” you smiled at her. “Thank you for breakfast.”

“Actually, that was all Kelce,” she informed you with a knowing smirk.

“Oh really?” You said, raising your eyebrows at Kelce.

He paused the video game and stood from the couch.

“Wait!” Kelce said. “I have one more thing!”

He ran out of the room and you looked back at Carter with a smirk.

“You better not let him off the hook too easily,” Carter encouraged you.

“Don’t worry, I plan to mess with him a little,” you smiled at her conspiratorially. “Everyone just act cool.”

They all nodded at you, shifting when Kelce re-entered the room. Their attempted acting skills were adorably terrible, pretending to ignore you and Kelce, suddenly very invested in their own hands and the stains on the couch. All but Rafe, who seemed genuinely disinterested in the whole thing, eyes still glued to his phone.

Kelce approached you with his hands behind his back, looking bashful. He revealed his present with a proud flair.

It was a bouquet of wilting flowers, and a couple of weeds, he had clearly pulled from the front yard. You smiled at the sad, but sweet, present.

“I picked them this morning,” he said proudly.

You didn’t take them from him just yet, tightening your lips to hide your smile so he’d think you were still mad at him.

“I’m sorry for being a dick,” he said. “I shouldn’t have said that thing about-”

“It’s okay Kelce,” you cut him off before he could elaborate further. “What you said…you were right.”

These words finally pulled Rafe from his phone, head snapping towards you in surprise. The rest of the group struggled to maintain their little charade of indifference, the air in the room shifting as they all silently met eyes, wondering where you were going with this.

“I did stay at those parties for a boy,” you admitted to Kelce.

Carter coughed to disguise a laugh, figuring out your game before anyone else.

“You did?” Kelce asked. 

You stepped closer to him, placing your hand on his arm. His eyes widened and he swallowed heavily.

“For you Kelce,” you whispered. “It’s always been you.”

Topper, Maddie, and Tom seemed to finally catch up with your plan as they tried to stifle their own laughter. Kelce had exactly the dumbstruck reaction you were hoping for, looking alarmed, stammering for words like an idiot.

“Me? You liked me?” He croaked, almost too stunned to speak.

You couldn’t hold it back any longer, his face looked so pathetically shocked you had to laugh. As soon as you cracked a smile, the group took it as a sign they could laugh now too, breaking into a round of giggles at Kelce’s expense. Even Rafe was smirking, looking back to his phone, but not before letting out a soft chuckle.

Kelce looked around helplessly, catching on painfully slowly.

“C’mon man,” he said when it finally dawned on him that you were kidding. “You really had me going there, I'm not gonna lie.”

You took the flowers from him finally, patting his cheek reassuringly.

“I can’t stay mad at you, Kelcey,” you reassured him.

“You forgive me then?” He asked hopefully.

“As long as you promise never to play beer pong again,” you countered, handing him back the flowers. “And you go put these back outside, there’s bugs in them.”

He took the bouquet from you with a dutiful nod and made his way to the front door.

“You gonna forgive Sabrina, too?” Carter questioned.

“No,” you scoffed, settling on the couch next to her. “She can rot.”

“You’re fun,” Maddie giggled. “Who knew you were so fun?”

I did, Rafe thought.

“I did,” Carter said.

The wind kicked up outside the tall windows, a loud clap of thunder causing you to jump in your seat.

“Y’all think I’m gonna be able to work on my tan today?” Tom quipped, an attempt to ease your nerves.

“I don’t think you need it,” you flirted with him, admiring the dimples in his cheeks as he smiled back at you.

Rafe shifted uncomfortably in his seat, finally putting his phone down and sticking it in his pocket.

“What are we gonna do today, though?” Maddie asked.

“I think you’re looking at it,” Topper spread his arms to gesture to the room.

“Good thing you’re so good at this game,” Kelce teased her, re-entering the room and jumping over the couch, making Carter bounce and lose her grip on the braid she had been carefully sowing into Topper’s hair.

“Dammit, Kelce!” She scolded. “We’ve been stuck inside for half a day and I’m already annoyed with you.”

“We could go see a movie,” you suggested hopefully, the idea of a calm afternoon in a dark theater with a big bucket of popcorn exciting you.

“No can do,” Topper explained. “The road is closed because of the flooding, we’re stuck here for the day. Jack and Sabrina went out for breakfast and they can’t even get back into the neighborhood.”

“Oh, okay” you frowned, bummed that your plan was foiled, but not that Sabrina had struck such bad luck.

Rafe didn’t miss the way your lips curved down with disappointment. 

After leaving your room last night, he’d stayed awake for hours, staring at the unfinished basement ceiling trying desperately to think of a way to get back in your good graces. The finality with which you’d shut your door on him made his stomach churn, wondering if he’d finally messed things up with you for good. But it was only your third day here, and he was a gamer; he didn’t quit and he didn’t lose. He decided he would take any opening he could get, and this seemed like a good place to start.

“We could watch a movie here,” he recommended. “We’ll make some popcorn and have our own theater.”

You looked at him for the first time since last night, surprised he was speaking to you, and even more surprised he was being so positive and helpful.

“Can we do it right now? I hate this game,” Maddie complained.

“I’d be down,” Tom agreed.

“Oh, uh,” Rafe sat up, catching Topper’s eye. “I have that thing I gotta do.”

Topper nodded knowingly, “yeah, we should wait until it gets dark anyway,” he agreed, giving Rafe an out.

You were dying to know what they were referring to, what possible responsibility could be tying Rafe down when he’d be stuck in a vacation home all day, but you feigned disinterest. 

It was decided, you’d all meet back here at dusk for your movie night. You had the perfect excuse to finally get some alone time, assuring Carter you were fine before going back to your room, slipping under the cool covers with a smile and pulling out the book you still hadn’t had time to start.

It was such a pleasant afternoon until the plot of your book started to feel a little too familiar for your comfort.  A love triangle between the shy, bookworm protagonist, a sweet, unassuming brunette, and a complicated, brooding blond. You finally shut the book about a hundred pages in, when the blond character, who was continuously breaking the protagonist’s heart, stood her up for a date. You sighed and threw the book back into your suitcase, adding it to your DNF list on Goodreads.

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Carter was sitting on the counter, swinging her legs happily as Topper stood at the stove and added spices to the soup he was making. You stood at the bottom of the stairs for a minute, watching them as long as you could before they noticed your presence. It was a rare moment of calm between them, no arguments or teasing. Topper blew on a spoonful of his soup before lifting it to Carter’s lips. She smiled at him affectionately as he thumbed the corner of her mouth, catching the little drop of soup that had spilled off the spoon.

Your heart warmed at your sister’s smile. She was not a relationship girl, or so she always swore. But you knew her feelings for Topper went far beyond a penchant for messing with him. You were struck with sadness that she would be leaving so soon, studying abroad in the UK to get her masters. Maybe you should’ve spent the afternoon with her, instead of a book you hated.

The door to the basement creaked open, and Rafe stepped out, looking grumpy as he unknowingly interrupted the sweet moment in the kitchen. 

Carter leaned away from Topper when she noticed Rafe, and finally saw you. You spotted the way Topper’s face fell a little as she pulled away.

“Needs salt,” she teased him.

“Yes chef,” he smiled back, though there was a hint of resentment in his tone.

Carter hopped down off the counter and walked over to you, wrapping her arm around you like you hadn’t seen each other in years. You squeezed her affectionately, hoping she could feel the love you had for her in your touch.

She pulled away, eyeing Rafe. He had bags under his eyes and he looked worn out.

“Where have you been all day?” Carter asked him.

“Just had to take care of a few things,” he ran his hands through his hair, which it appeared he had been doing a lot based on the way it was sticking up at different angles. 

As he brought his hands back to his side, you caught a quick glimpse of the pen ink that was smeared on his fingers, only adding to the mystery of what “things” he was taking care of.

You were going to teasingly ask him if he was down there writing the great American novel, but before you could, the large french doors that lead to the den swung open dramatically, Tom standing behind them with a big grin on his face.

“All ready!” He announced it to the group.

“What’s ready?” You asked, an amused smirk at his theatrics.

“Come see for yourself,” he winked at you.

You followed him curiously into the den, the rest of the group trailing behind. Your jaw dropped when you took it all in. He had transformed the big den, setting up a large projector and screen, stringing little fairy lights from the ceiling and filling the side tables with popcorn, candy, and a variety of snacks. The room even smelled good, Tom having lit some candles, and with the rain still coming down outside, the cozy vibes were off the charts.

“You did all this?” You gushed.

“Well you seemed bummed that we couldn’t go to the theater,” Tom remarked. “So I brought the theater to you!”

Thinking that might just be the most romantic thing anyone has ever said to you, you gave Tom a big, grateful smile. Rafe muttered words under his breath that you couldn’t quite make out but sounded something like “you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Woah, where’d you find the projector?” Kelce asked.

“They said it was in the attic,” Tom pointed out. “On the Airbnb listing.”

You didn’t understand why, but something about Tom being the only one to actually read the whole listing and pay attention to the details was attractive. You suddenly wished there weren’t five other people in the room with you and him.

“The only thing I haven’t done is pick the movie,” Tom admitted.

The group started chattering all at once, throwing out suggestions and arguing over each other’s taste in movies. After a few chaotic moments, Tom mentioned the name of a horror movie that had come out recently, and while the rest of the room chimed in with “ohhh yes” and “I’ve wanted to see that one,” your stomach dropped. You hated scary movies, you always had. Since you were a kid, you felt anything you watched or read very deeply, so when a movie was dark, it affected you emotionally.

Feeling helpless, your eyes inadvertently met Rafe’s. He immediately picked up on the way you were chewing your lip, afraid to protest to what everyone else clearly wanted. 

Shit that’s right, he thought, she hates scary movies. 

Plus, he knew you’d be teased for saying something, this group was fun but they weren’t known for their sensitivity. Your eyes dropped to the floor in acceptance, all of your excitement over the home theater fading as you settled in for an unpleasant evening. Rafe hated the way you were forced to resign to being unhappy for everyone else’s sake.

“Nah, I don’t fuck with horror movies,” he blurted out impulsively.

All eyes shot to him, most people laughing in assumption he was making a joke. When he didn’t laugh back, but clenched his jaw and stared them down, they fell silent.

“Bro, since when?” Topper asked hesitantly.

“Since forever,” Rafe doubled down.

“You scared, Cameron?” Kelce teased.

“So what if I am?” Rafe bit back, daring him to keep going.

“Hey man, that’s cool,” Tom assured him. “It’s not for everybody. We can just watch something else.”

It was like your heart was strung up with the fairy lights above you, Rafe and Tom grabbing either end of the cord and playing tug-of-war. Just when Tom did something so sweet you thought you might kiss him right here in front of everyone, Rafe jumped in to rescue you from ridicule, proving he remembered intimate details about you in the process, making your heart ache for him. Then Tom said something kind, and you were right back where you started. This wasn’t getting any easier.

Rafe could see the way your eyes flicked between him and Tom, he knew he needed to step it up even more. He rounded the couch and approached Tom’s laptop, which was plugged into the projector. He typed something into the streaming site that was pulled up and the projector whirred to life, the screen illuminating the room as the opening credits of a movie began.

It was your favorite movie of all time. Your heart swelled at the opening song that you’d know anywhere, this having been your comfort film since you were a kid. Rafe stared right at you as the rest of the group settled on the couch, no one wanting to argue with his choice. Your eyes went soft as you looked back at him, mouthing a silent thank you, just like you had done by the fire last night. You were astonished that he remembered how much you loved this movie.

“Perfect, I love this movie!” Tom exclaimed, pulling your gaze from Rafe.

Of course he does, you thought tenderly, your crush on Tom intensifying.

Of course he does, Rafe thought resentfully, his vexation with Tom boiling his blood.

As everyone took their seats, you hung back for a moment, taking in the whole scene and trying to clear your head. By the time your feet caught up with your brain, there was only one spot left on the big couch.

Carter and Topper settled in on the chaise, shamelessly cuddling up almost immediately. Kelce and Maddie sat next to them, sharing a bowl of popcorn. Then it was Tom, an empty spot, and Rafe. You considered sitting on the floor.

Standing between them, both boys looked up at you expectantly, shifting away from each other to make more space for you, both hopeful you’d sit a little closer to them than the other. You thought of the protagonist from the book you were reading, wishing you could take her out for a drink. 

Finally, you took your seat, crossing your legs and placing your hands in your lap. You turned and looked at Carter, who was smiling back at you sympathetically. She looked like she was about to get up from the comfort of Topper’s arms, but you didn’t want to interrupt their time together, so you waved her off and settled back on the couch to prove you were fine.

The movie began, roaring through the speakers Tom had set up, and you were quickly distracted by the familiar sights and sounds of your favorite film.

Rafe’s eyes flicked over to you every so often, melting at the cute way you were mouthing the lines along with the actors, laughing at funny scenes even though you’d seen them a million times. He was trying to respect your space, but eventually he needed to stretch out his long legs, spreading them so his knee was almost knocking into yours. He wouldn’t touch you though, no matter how much he wanted to. It seemed maybe he had almost secured your forgiveness and he wasn’t about to push his luck.

Tom wasn’t in such a difficult position though, his arm fearlessly brushing against yours as he reached for a bowl of popcorn and offered you some.

“Thank you,” you said sweetly.

“Do you like this movie?” He whispered, leaning in a bit too close for Rafe’s comfort.

“It’s my all-time favorite,” you told him.

“I’m glad we picked it then.”

We? Rafe seethed. This whole movie night was his idea in the first place, and once again, here was Casanova sweeping in and stealing away your attention. 

Rafe thought he couldn’t hate him more, and then Tom put his arm around you.

Anything, he would’ve given anything, done anything, to hear you tell Tom to fuck off. But you didn’t. You blushed and shifted a bit, nestling into Tom’s side and tucking your legs under you. 

Your feet, covered in pink fuzzy socks, were just inches from Rafe’s leg, tormenting him. They nudged him every so often when you laughed at the film or leaned in to whisper something to Tom. He got excited for just a moment the first time you touched him, but his heart cracked when it dawned on him that while you were touching him by accident, you were touching Tom on purpose.

Even though he was tempted to storm out, your obvious rejection of him nearly unbearable, he forced himself to play it cool and stay through to the end credits. 

The screen faded to black, and everyone stirred and stretched. You sat up from Tom’s side and looked over to your sister, surprised she hadn’t pulled out her phone and texted you something cheeky about him during the movie, but quickly realized it was because she had fallen asleep. Her hair was messy in her face as little snores escaped her lips. The only person looking at her with more affection than you was Topper, who scooped her up in his arms with ease and a peck on the cheek, and carried her to bed.

“Okay, so that was the cutest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” Maddie said as she and Kelce followed them out of the room.

Rafe sighed as he saw the mess that had been left behind, kneeling down to sweep up the popcorn Kelce had spilled on the floor. He felt the small window of hope that he’d somehow reconnect with you today close as you exited the room.

Feeling just as tired as Carter looked and eager to crawl into bed, you made your way toward the stairs. Tom caught up with you before you took the first step, saying your name softly to get your attention.

“I had a really good time with you tonight,” he said when you turned.

“Me too,” you told him, blushing bashfully. “Though I don’t think anyone had quite as good a time as Carter.”

“You’re probably right.” He had gotten closer, leaning towards you as he said it, close enough that you could feel his breath on your skin, “the night’s not over yet, though.”

Heat swept across your cheeks and down your back as your whole body blushed. You had really enjoyed your time on the couch snuggled up next to him, but you were a notoriously slow mover when it came to new guys. You thought you might kiss him goodbye at the end of the week, maybe get his number, but that was as far as your imagination had wandered. You’d hooked up with guys at school, and you were certainly more confident with every year that passed, but you had accepted about yourself that you would always be a little slower than other girls, and that was okay with you.

“It’s not?” You asked, hating the shaky nervousness in your voice.

“Maybe I could carry you up to your room, too,” he propositioned.

With that suggestion, he leaned in to kiss you. Your whole body went numb and a nervous hum escaped your throat. You flinched slightly right before his lips met yours, signaling him to pause.

“Sorry,” you mumbled as he pulled back.

“Is something wrong?” He asked, brows furrowed.

“It’s just, a little fast,” you explained. “I’m really enjoying getting to know you, though. I tend to move slow.”

“We don’t have to do anything,” he continued. “Maybe I could just crash in your room? I’m sharing with Kelce and he snores.”

“The couch is pretty comfortable, you could sleep there,” you stepped away from him a bit, voice firmer. 

“Ah, but that’s not as fun,” he flirted again, not letting up. 

“It’s not gonna happen tonight,” you told him definitively. “We can definitely hang out tomorrow, though.”

He eyed you for a second, and your skin crawled with the feeling you were being studied.

“Sure,” he muttered, the softness you usually saw in his eyes was nowhere to be found. “Night.”

As he shuffled up the stairs without another glance to you, you saw that Rafe had been standing in the doorway of the den, for how long you weren’t sure. His hands were full of dirty dishes as he eyed you anxiously.

“All good?” He questioned.

You wanted to put up a front, make a joke to wipe the protective, caring look off of Rafe’s face, but your spirit was a bit shaken, and if you were being honest, you were just glad not to be alone. 

Instead of answering, you reached out, took some of the dishes from his hands and walked them to the kitchen sink. Your wordlessness was an indication that you didn’t want to talk about it any further, so he didn’t push.

Rafe washed and you dried, completely silent as you did the dishes together. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence, though, just an understanding between you that nothing more needed to be said tonight. You were immensely grateful to have something to do with your hands, a task to focus on as you recovered from the upsetting interaction you’d had with Tom.

Once Rafe handed you the last bowl, he bid you goodnight quietly and descended the stairs to his room. You dried the bowl and reached it toward the high cabinet it belonged in, but nearly dropped when you heard a loud “fuck!” come from the basement.

You set the dish down carefully before hurrying down the stairs towards the sound of Rafe’s distress.

“What’s wrong?” You asked breathlessly as you descended the creaking steps.

Rafe stepped back to show you the cause of his outcry. Sometime in the evening a leak had sprung from the edge of the basement ceiling, running down the wall and right onto his bed. The rain had stopped about an hour ago, and though it didn’t appear the water was flowing in anymore, the damage was done.

“Fuck,” you echoed him.

Rafe moved his luggage and backpack to the stairs to get them off the ground, and pulled the bed away from the wall.

“I’ll just sleep with my head on the other end of the bed,” he sighed.

“Rafe, you can’t sleep down here,” you countered. “I found some extra blankets and pillows in my closet, I’ll get them for you and you can crash on the couch.”

He nodded in agreement, “thanks.”

Rafe followed you up to your room, stopping at the threshold of your door, just like he had last night. You smiled to yourself at the respectfulness of the action. Though it proved to be unsustainable when you slid open your closet door and tried to get the blanket and pillow stored on the top shelf, unable to reach it even when you jumped.

“Can you help me?” You sighed, indirectly inviting him in. 

Rafe smirked as he approached, barely having to stretch to reach the bedding. Your throat bobbed as you watched him, his frame so long and lean it towered over you. 

“Thanks for these,” he looked down at you, holding the pillow and blanket to his chest with crossed arms.

“Least I could do,” you smiled. “After you saved me again.”

Rafe furrowed his brows quizzically.

“You hate horror movies, huh?” You quirked your eyebrows.

“Oh,” he mumbled, realization sweeping across his face. “No. But you do.”

“And you just really wanted to watch that particular movie instead?”

“No. But you did.”

The room suddenly felt too hot, as you bantered, your voices dropped lower, and so did Rafe’s eyes, landing on your lips. 

Not sure you could stand this close to him much longer without making a decision you might regret, you stepped away and over to your vanity. You unclasped your necklace and started removing your rings, preparing to begin your nighttime routine. You caught Rafe’s eyes in the mirror as he watched you take your hair out of its ponytail, letting it fall around your face in a soft curtain.

Rafe cleared his throat and looked down, digging his foot into your rug. You swore you caught a blush kiss the apples of his cheeks.

 “Well what are you doin’ right now? Wanna hang out?” He croaked.

You smiled at his desperate attempt to keep the conversation going. It was reminiscent of the way you used to search your mind for more questions to ask to keep him on the phone, or pretend you needed to run errands so he’d be in your car longer. Now, here he was, looking at you with big, hopeful eyes, completely desperate. The power shift was electrifying, a newfound dominance rushed through you. You had him right where you wanted, and you couldn’t help but milk it. 

“I’m feeling pretty tired.” You turned to him and faked a yawn, stretching your arms up, the bottom of your t-shirt rising to reveal just a sliver of skin, his eyes catching it immediately. “I think I’m just gonna get ready for bed now.”

He stood across the dimly lit room, every muscle in his body fighting against his attempt to stay in place. You held back a smug smile when you saw he was actually making tight fists to keep from reaching his hands toward you.

This would be all he would ever get, he thought. Just these little moments when his eyes caught slivers of your perfect skin. The tops of your sun kissed shoulders in your swimsuit. The brief hint of a dimple on your lower back when you bent to get a beer from the cooler. The curve of your hips in the tight jeans you wore today.

If this was all he’d get, that would be okay. He’d collect the memories of these moments like rare coins, only to be pulled out on special occasions. If these teases of what it might be like to be with you for real were all you’d ever give him, he’d make do. 

And just as he made himself that promise, you reached down and pulled at the hem of your shirt, lifting it over your head in one motion, tossing it to the floor. 

You were wearing a black bra with a little white bow right where the cups met between your breasts, and he could see the top of your black lace panties barely peeking out of the waistband of your jeans. 

Rafe’s face flushed and his shoulders tensed as he looked you up and down, eyes wide with surprise at how bold you were being. His large body cast a long shadow on the wall, but something about the desperation on his face made him seem so small, so vulnerable. The rush of power felt unbelievable and you wondered how far you could push him before he snapped.

Without breaking the heated eye contact between you, you slowly unbuttoned your jeans and dipped your thumbs under the waistband, pulling them down and over your feet.

“Wh-What are you doing?” Rafe finally choked out, unable to stay silent any longer.

“I’m getting ready for bed,” you shrugged innocently. “And you’re getting ready to leave.”

Your words were pushing him out, but your actions were freezing him in place. He had no idea what you really wanted from him, but he knew exactly what he wanted from you.

Before he could ask if you really wanted him to leave, you pulled back the covers of your bed and climbed in. Once under the sheets, the white linen covering you up to your shoulders, you shuffled a bit, making the blanket rustle with your movement. His brows furrowed in confusion, unsure what you were doing now. Then, your hand reached back out from under the covers and dropped your bra to the floor. More shuffling, and your panties followed, now only the plush duvet and silky sheets stood between Rafe and your completely bare body. Rafe cleared his throat as he felt himself straining against his board shorts.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, the blankets sliding slightly, stopping right before exposing your chest to him. He swallowed hard.

You looked at him, your face unassuming, like this was the most normal thing in the world. The way you were looking at him, he knew he would do anything you told him to, even if that meant you really were asking him to leave. He prayed to whatever god made the perfect creature in front of him that you’d ask him to stay. But you didn’t.

“Hit the lights on your way out?” You said, before laying back and letting your hair fan out over the pillows. You closed your eyes and moaned softly as you sunk into the plush bed.

He bit his lip as he watched you get comfortable, his heart pounding so hard he was sure you could hear it.

“Rafe?” you whispered, eyes still closed.

“Y-yeah?” He stammered.

“Goodnight,” you smiled, putting an end to any hope he had for an invitation to join you in the California King.

He sighed in defeat, “goodnight.”

With that, he walked toward the door, giving himself one last look at you, angelic and at peace in your pre-sleep. He hit the light switch and pulled the door closed softly behind him.

Rafe leaned against the door, one hand over his chest to feel his spiked heart rate, and one still clutching the door handle, unable to fully let go of it, of you. He felt lightheaded, the realization of how badly he wanted you washing over him, leaving him breathless. Why had he been such a dumbass in high school? He thought ruefully of that day senior year. If he had done just one thing differently, maybe he would be in bed next to you right now.

The thought of pulling your soft body into his, holding you under those cool sheets, nuzzling his head into your hair and inhaling the scent of you until you both fall into blissful sleep…he couldn’t remember ever wanting anything as bad as that. His want, his need, for you was too much to bear. 

He couldn’t bring himself to walk downstairs, and as much as he was dying to, he couldn't bring himself to go back into the room and risk your true rejection. As he toiled over his lack of choices, he sank to the floor, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. He knew it was pathetic, sitting outside your door like a stray cat. He told himself he’d sit here for just five more minutes, enough time to collect his dignity.

He fell asleep on the floor thinking about the way your hair smells.

(chapter 5: part one)

a/n: thank you thank you thank you thank you for the support on this story! thank you to this anon for the move night idea which really helped solve some plot issues I was having I appreciate you!! in the original draft of this chapter, Tom suggested they watch Hellraiser 2022...is that too meta?

once again, if I forget to tag you it is not intentional pls let me know! follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works to be notified first when I post a new chapter <3

[stargirlrchive]

simon getting jealous over another coworker flirting with his work wife ? 👀

i had tew much fun writing this lmao

one — two — three — four

you don’t know how it happened, one second there was a recruit standing before you, and in the next you were shoved against the stretcher, tactical pants and panties pooled between your legs as simon bent you over to fuck his thick cock into you.

well—you do know how it happened, but it was so quick it left you dizzy.

anderson had been brought in by two other recruits, limping and grunting as they plopped him onto the medical bed. a deep gash on his upper thigh from one of the other recruits knicking his skin during practice.

it was deep, and angry—your fingers itching to patch him up as you ripped open a bigger hole on his tactical pants to get the wound cleaned. ��you shouldn’t have let it get this far, anderson.”

“it’s sanders.”

you blinked up at him, a small frown on your lips, “pardon?”

“it’s sanders—not anderson.”

heat bloomed on your cheeks, the newest batch of recruits had been here for four months already and you were positive you’d only ever addressed him incorrectly. you cleared your throat, embarrassed. “i’m sorry—”

“it’s no big deal, i’m sure you can make up for it.”

your nerves flared as he cut you off, at what the grimy smirk on his face was insinuating. you couldn’t hold back the grimace on your face as you worked on patching him up and getting him out of your work space.

through the annoyance and blood pumping in your ears, you missed the big bulk of your lieutenant sliding into your space.

sander’s voice dropped lower, in what you assumed was his way of being seductive, “don’t be like that, honey.”

you forced yourself to not be overly rough with the way you were cleaning the gash on his thigh, fingers working methodically on his wound.

“i can show you a real good time.” and then his fingers were threading through your hair, the shock causing you to jostle as he tangled his fingers in the root of your hair to tug your neck upwards.

your heart pumped in anger, ready to yell at him to fuck off—to not fucking touch you. but simon beat you to it.

“get y’r fucking hands off my wife.”

the growl in simon’s voice had you tensing yet melting at the same time. shivers running down your back and heat coiling in your belly.

sanders scrambled upwards, back tense and eyes wide. you stumbled backwards, simon steadying you by placing a thick hand on your waist and pulling you to him.

“lieutenant riley—i had no idea, she didn’t-i didn’t know she was your wife.”

simon’s chest was practically vibrating with his anger, snarling down at the man in front of you like a rabid dog. heat bloomed between your thighs, clit aching at his proximity, at the way he protected you.

“i d’nt give two fucks what you know—get the fuck out of here.”

you had never seen someone leave your quarters faster, sanders left running like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs.

your body sagged into simon’s, relief filling you from the inside out as his fingers trailed over you. searching.

“you alright, sweetheart?”

you nod, heart thrumming and trying to wrap your head around what happened, “i need words, baby. talk to me. did he—did he do anything, touch you more than he did—”

you turned in his arms, face burying into his chest to breathe in his scent. “m’fine, he didn’t-i just can’t believe he had the nerve.”

simon’s eyes raked over you behind his skull mask. assessing, trying to make sure you really were alright. “i’m fine, simon. i swear. and feeling so much better because you’re here.”

he took a few more seconds to look you over, calloused finger gripping your throat gently and rubbing his gloved thumb over your jaw.

“almost fuckin’ killed him f’r touching you.”

a small laughed bubbled in your throat, leaning into him, “i’m almost positive he pissed himself. never seen you look so scary.”

his fingers loosened on your throat gently, “did i scare you?” his voice was awfully raw, almost vulnerable.

“no. thought it was hot, honestly.”

one of his fingers twitched gently, pressing into you more firmly and you felt his cock. hard and full against your belly as he walked the two of you backwards. “yeah?”

“mhm, would’ve let you bent me over right in front of him if he hadn’t run off.”

simon’s rough voice caused heat to coil in your belly as he turned you over. pressing your back down to bend you over as his cock pressed against your ass, “m’not someone who likes to share, sweetheart.”

your back arched into him, pressing your ass harder against his cock before he pinned your back down with a heavy palm and used his other one to unbutton your pants. “think you need to make that clear for everyone else then.”

[kxsalt]

Handcuffs and rope are tucked into his backpack. The man rides the train to her house. A brief glimpse of fear cuts into him as she opens the door. “Hi! Thanks for coming!” The girl looks beautiful as always. She wraps him in a tight hug. She smells like lavender. Leading her friend inside, she chatters about her day.

The man sits at the kitchen table and watches her scurry around. She was always like this, full of life and energy. It was intoxicating. Her innocent giggles and chipper anecdotes had entranced him long ago. “I wanna show you some art I’ve been making! Oh! And you can meet my plants!” He can hear passerby from the street outside. The man slides the window shut.

“Can you help me with this?” Her weak hands twist around a jar lid. Standing next to her, he towers over the girl. A satisfying pop follows. He’s a lot stronger than her. She thanks him and prepares a snack. “I rearranged my room – come see!” The girl’s sanctuary is as cute and chaotic as she is. The headboard of her bed has open slats. He could tie something to them.

She drops her phone on the unmade bed and moves to her dresser. The man stealthily pushes her phone between the bed and the frame. It would be hard to find in an emergency. Watching her light some incense, he admires her body. “Today has been such a good day~ <3” A pang of guilt touches his soul. The man pushes it down. He’s already made his decision.

The girl spins around as aromatic smoke floats around her. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something from my bag.” She steps in close to him and stands on her tiptoes. Her lips touch his in an affectionate kiss. Seeing his shocked expression, the girl blushes. “I’m sorry! I should have asked first…” She’s flustered and embarrassed. “…I just always thought you were really hot…” He touches her frail body. “…and I was wondering if you’d be okay with… hooking up?”

The pair collapses onto the bed, kissing and groping each other. She rubs his cock as he nibbles on her neck. The scent of lavender washes over him. He pulls off her dress without a fight. He takes off her panties without ripping them. She sucks his cock without crying. When he fingers her pussy, her legs open wide instead of squeezing shut.

She holds onto the headboard as he ruts into her. Eager to be a good fuck, the girl talks dirty to him. “You can do whatever you want to me.” The man grins, thrusting deep. “Oh, I know.” She feels even better than he imagined. Losing himself in the moment, he grips her wrists and pins her into the pillow. The girl giggles, enjoying his rough handling. He fucks her as hard as he wants. Always enthusiastic, she takes him well.

Strong hands hold her throat. Weak hands push against his body for a moment. She gives in, letting him choke her as he cums in her pussy. The girl gasps as he relaxes, laying on top of her. The couple rest in warm silence. The girl’s fingers stroke along his back. “It’s so stuffy in here… I thought I left a window open.” He shrugs. “Have you seen my phone?” She searches the bed as his cum dribbles from her cunt. “Maybe it slid down the side.”

They cuddle and enjoy their pillow talk. “So, what made you want to have sex with me?” She looks for some easy validation. He obliges her. “Everything about you. You’re fun, beautiful, interesting. You smell like lavender.” The girl wiggles cheerfully, enjoying his praise. “What made you want to have sex with me?”

She looks bashful, and cuddles into his arms. The girl lays her head on his chest.

“I always feel really safe with you…”

[alchemistc]

Tommy ignores the knock at his door. He's in day three pajamas and the only person who might make the effort to check in on him is his exes best friend. Which.

The knocking continues.

It's getting louder.

There's a Kings game on in the background and he's been elbow deep in the Jeep manual he'd finally cracked open in some sort of weird, fucked up pattern of mourning.

Tommy's never gonna buy a fucking Jeep. He hates them. You own one for more than five years and more than half the parts are replacement parts.

He's been staring at a diagram of the timing belt for half an hour, at least. The last thing he remembers about the game is Kuemper letting in three goals on five shots and somehow the Kings are up two, now, and there's still 25 minutes of game time left.

Tommy reaches for the remote. Turns the volume up.

The knocking returns less than a minute later.

---

There's a box of odds and ends tucked under the table in his entryway. He avoids looking at it. He knows there are a few things missing from it and he really doesn't want to examine what he'll have to do to avoid giving it to Eddie tonight. He cut the cords, he shouldn't be lingering watching the frayed edges sway in the wind, clutching his line like there's anything braced on the other side of it.

Evan's oldest, softest LAFD hoodie, the one that's technically too small for both of them but has stretched shockingly evenly and is definitely not sitting unwashed at the bottom of Tommy's laundry basket. The program from a recital of Denny's they'd stopped by to support him for, on their way out of town for a long weekend. Evan's stupid keto bread and the milk frother he'd left behind three months ago and never bothered to grab because he had more than one.

Whoever is at his door is still fucking knocking, and suddenly Tommy doesn't feel like being polite. He'll shove the box in Eddie's arms and tell him to fuck off and close the last few remaining open doors he has to this.

Only when he swings the door wide it's not Eddie on the other side, and the box nearly takes out whatever Evan - Buck, Jesus Christ - has in his own arms.

Not a Tommy box - too small for all the shit that he'd left behind. He misses the house slippers that had had a permanent spot tucked under the left side of the bed.

Tommy flinches, reels away, tries to shove the box away before Buck can see its contents.

"What are you doing here?" Even tone. No quiver in his voice. He's been called rude and dismissive for less.

Buck scowls. Hefts the rectangular dish in his hands and shoves past Tommy before Tommy can blink.

It's silly to say he chases after him, down the hallway towards the kitchen, but he's not exactly following along behind at a casual leisurely pace.

The glass pan slams down on his kitchen counter and Buck spends a minute staring at the calendar he was only getting two months out of because he couldn't look at the one with all Buck's notes penned in anymore.

"Wow," Buck says, and shifts his weight awkwardly.

"What are you -?"

"Jee and I made you birthday cupcakes," Buck says. His voice is hard. Angry. Hurt. "Happy birthday, asshole."

---

He cracks the lid and there are only three cupcakes inside. Tommy forgets himself. Raises a brow, amusement rolling over him pleasantly, prepared to tease him, but then he catches the set of Buck's legs and the curl of his mouth and the tight way his arm tucks itself back in against his belly, a protective gesture that reminds Tommy very effectively what this is.

"Why?" Tommy wonders aloud, and Evan's scowl deepens.

Buck's scowl.

God.

"We've been planning it for weeks." Something flashes across his eyes before he schools his features. "Jee made me promise to bring you some."

"She must not be a skilled baker," Tommy jokes. "If these are the only ones that made it."

Evan's expression twists. "I ate most of them."

The frosting looks fresh. No creases in the paper cup holding them together.

"I had to make a new batch of frosting because I used some of it for -." He cuts himself off. Looks like he'd like to throw it in Tommy's face but can't quite force himself to hurt Tommy.

It hurts as much as he'd expected, anyway.

The world is a small place. It's not the first time he's had to speak to an ex when he didn't want to. It's never pleasant.

This is worse. The cut and run is supposed to give him time.

Evan Buckley has been an ache behind his ribcage for months, now, long before he'd made that final decision. He'd known it was too little too late. Buck's gonna be the shadow other men see behind his eyes for years.

Buck's apparently found and slept with someone within the week and a half span from Tommy walking out to his sad shitty mopey birthday.

That he'd forgotten about.

Tommy leans in. Picks up a cupcake. Licks a stripe through the frosting and makes a face when he realizes it's buttercream.

"The ones you were supposed to get had the whipped cream one you like," Buck says, accusingly.

That somehow stings just a little bit extra.

Tommy pulls back the paper, takes a bite. There's raspberry filling inside, and Tommy can feel tears prickling at the edges of his eyes, because when he'd told Evan about how his grandma baked he'd been thinking of Evan being a grandparent, the kind of shit he'd forbidden himself from imagining with anyone he was dating years ago.

"Thank you," he manages, and Buck frowns.

"He thought the whipped cream was too sweet." And Tommy probably deserves this but he's not particularly in the mood.

"Cut it out, Buck."

Buck rolls his jaw. "I just figured you'd wanna know how it's going. Maybe I could tally up the hookups for you, count them all up by gender and stamina and opinions on how I should feel and act and fall for someone. Find out if I'm actually gay enough to be a man's last."

---

The rest of the cupcake kind of collapses and oozes as Tommy smacks it down on the counter. He takes thirty seconds to pull the other two cupcakes out before he's grabbing the too-large fake Pyrex and turning heel. The keto bread goes in the pan. Then the milk frother.

Tommy yanks the recital program off the fridge and tosses it in the trash.

Buck almost looks triumphant.

"The box under the side table has the rest. You can see yourself out."

He actually does exactly as he's told, and Tommy listens to his footsteps drift off, shoulders hunched in and the breath tight in his throat. He'd been cruel, it was only fair Buck got a few final kicks in.

Tommy sucks in a breath and blinks away the moisture at the edges of his vision.

The footsteps take a heel turn at the side table and turn right back around.

"This isn't everything."

Tommy half expects some panned comment about how Tommy's got his heart - the kind of silly shit he'd say to a dead outlaw.

"My sweatshirt," Buck says, and Tommy freezes.

He could lie. He could pretend he had no idea where it was. Claim he didn't remember it even being here, because that particular piece of clothing did have a tendency to travel.

He doesn't fucking want to hand that one over.

Buck smirks, like he's caught the crack, and is looking for ways to exploit it.

"I own my own house!" Tommy says, and it's a terrible launching point but Buck latches on.

"You just left, Tommy! I know I jumped the gun, Tommy, but you didn't even - you just left! I'm sorry, okay. I'm sorry I didn't know I was into men until you. I'm sorry you had to be my first, I'm sure that must have been such a burden for you."

"That's not fair."

"You didn't even give me a chance. That was - I'm so angry with you, Tommy. I'm so fucking mad."

"I know."

"But that's what you planned for, right? That's - you ripped the bandaid, Tommy, except there's a whole fucking untreated stab wound right underneath and it's still bleeding, Tommy."

"Did you even make this round of cupcakes with your niece?" It's better to keep his family's names out of his mouth. Just keep those ties cut.

Buck looks livid. "No, you idiot, I whipped up a tiny batch of this recipe just for the excuse to see you and - and tell you what a stupid, awful coward you are."

"That's not f-." He isn't sure whether Buck is being facetious about the small batch thing or not. He doesn't have any time to think about it.

"My sister and Chim are having another baby. Bobby and Athena are probably gonna host Christmas this year. Eddie shaved off the mustache and he's, like, dancing now, I guess. Hen and Karen are good for the first time in -." He shakes his head. Stares at Tommy. Tommy can't quite hide from that gaze. "We were good, Tommy. We were - you loved me."

He'd never said the words. Neither had Evan, but they'd both known. Both felt it. Tommy let it go too far, did it scared for longer than he usually would.

"It's not like that just went away when I walked out, Evan," Tommy hisses, and then regrets it immediately.

Evan has spent most of this visit pushing, pressing, digging fingers into the wound to make it hurt.

Evan goes silent now, reeling back a little. He seems shocked that Tommy had admitted it.

"I want you to go," Tommy says. "I need you to go, Buck."

It was the right dagger the first time, but apparently it's only effective once.

"I love you too, you know." His voice is soft. Tommy can't meet his eye. "And I hate you. I hate you even though I know that's what you wanted but I love you too much to not hate you out of spite."

Tommy knows if he caves it's done. He's signing himself over to whatever fucked thing will end them a week, a month, five years, two decades from now.

"Go home, Buck. Hate me there."

---

He goes in for the kill.

"I called Abby, two nights ago."

Right for the jugular. No survivors.

"She laughed for like twenty minutes, and then she tried to get me to chat about our sex life for comparison, and then she was shocked silent for a full minute when I wouldn't." Because Evan had always been a little too open about those details. "She also told me she forgave you but she doesn't think you ever forgave yourself."

Tommy agrees. For all that they'd been terrible for each other, they'd known how the hell to take care of one another like no one's business.

"I want you to go," Tommy says, steady, quiet, nearly a snark for how deep his voice goes to hide the tremor in it.

Buck cocks a hip against the doorframe. "I want my sweatshirt."

The breath that escapes him is shaky, but her think he hides most of it behind the hand over his face, the finger pinched at the bridge of his nose.

"I can't do this."

"Exactly how many men and women do I have to fuck before you believe the future I'm looking at is with you?"

"All of them! None! It was a stupid thing to say and it's not what I meant and I can't do this."

Buck spins on his heel. Grabs the box he'd set aside and hefts it up into his arms. "I'm coming back for my sweatshirt," he says. "You let me know whether you want to talk about the data points of the sexuality spreadsheet or about us."

"There is no us, Buck." His voice sounds defeated even to himself.

"If that was true you'd just give me the stupid sweater and be done."

Tommy sits in silence. He does not get up to retrieve the hoodie. Buck is still angry, but his smile is wide and bashful.

Tommy listens to his footsteps trail down the hall, towards the door, out of it. He hears the Jeep's ignition catch, the wheels roll off the drive.

He realizes he'd left the goddamn Jeep manual open on the timing belt page, right there on his side table where he'd pointed out the things he wanted Evan to take to clear him from his life.

---

There is someone knocking at his door.

Tommy doesn't quite ignore it.

He hid the sweatshirt in one of his toolbox drawers when Evan texted him this morning to let him know he'd be over with a six pack and a pot of chili.

There's a zero percent chance Evan's getting that sweatshirt back, tonight.

[incognit0slut]

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4

Behind Closed Doors 2

You welcome Spencer back to the team with a special gesture of your own—and find yourself falling even harder for him after he opens up to you.

Warnings: (18+ MDNI) sub older spence my beloved, handjob, oral (m), spit kink?, semi-public (they are FREAKY), and idk if we can call this angst but we get to know how he feels about returning to work ~3.9k words

A/n: I didn’t plan for a part two, but rewriting scenes with specific looks of him is growing on me. Also, this happens before Emily tells him to teach seminars on his leave. And tell me what you think!!

He looked good in pink.

That was an understatement, the man looked good in pretty much anything. But today? Something was different. Something looked different. His whole appearance seemed to be on point than usual. You noticed his typically tousled hair was styled and swept back, which was a very rare sight, and it was hard for you to look away.

“…as you have obviously heard, Dr. Spencer Reid has been fully reinstated,” Emily announced, snapping you back to reality. “Welcome back, Spence.”

“Whoo-hoo! Yes!” Penelope cheered, only to be met by Emily’s pointed look. “That’s not the end, is it?”

Your boss shook your head and then proceeded to continue with another announcement. You stole a glance towards him again.

Maybe it was just really his shirt that made him look good? It wasn't even overly tight, but snug enough to accentuate the lines of his broad shoulders. Has his shoulders always been that wide? Now that you think about it, he did seem to be putting on a little weight. Not that it was a bad thing, and not that you didn't like how he looked before, but you couldn't help noticing how he filled out his shirt, and for some reason, it was doing something to you. 

Probably more than something because now you wondered what other places he filled out.

A sudden round of applause filled the room, and you joined in, tearing your gaze away from him only to find Matt Simmons grinning at you. You looked away and followed everyone as they shuffled around the room, making sure to sit as far away from Spencer as possible, although luck wasn't on your side when Matt settled into the seat beside you.

"You don't seem too thrilled about me joining the team," he murmured, leaning in close.

“What do you mean? I’m always open to new faces around here.”

“Not as excited as having an old member back, though,” Matt remarked, prompting you to snap your head at him, a slight frown forming on your face. He winked teasingly, and you groaned, shoving his shoulder away. 

“Ugh, do not wink at me.”

His laughter filled the air, but it quickly faded as the atmosphere in the room turned serious. Penelope began briefing everyone on the new case, and you did your best to mask your grimace every time a gruesome picture flashed on the screen. By the time Emily called out, “Wheels up in thirty,” you rose from your seat.

To talk to him or not talk to him?

You weighed the pros and cons, sneaking a quick glance at Spencer, who was deeply absorbed in studying the case files. The logical part of your brain told you it wasn't the best time to strike up a conversation, especially with only thirty minutes left until you had to leave. But there was something about him, it felt almost instinctual, like you were naturally drawn to him, and like a magnetic force, you couldn't resist.

Oh, fuck it—you decided to approach him.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you made your way over to where he was sitting, trying to ignore the flutter of nerves in your stomach.

"Hi.”

"Hey," he greeted, looking up with a small smile at the corners of his lips. "What's up?"

“Can I talk to you for a moment?”

"Sure," Spencer replied, his expression curious yet amused. He set aside the files he had been studying and turned his attention fully to you.

“In private?”

There was a brief pause, and you swore you could practically cut the tension with a knife. Then, with a deliberate slowness, he rose from his seat, his gaze never wavering from yours. You tilted your head back to look at him as his presence seemed to fill the room,and you couldn't help but hold your breath as you waited for his response.

“Of course,” he finally agreed, his eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer before he turned, leading the way to a more secluded spot, past the bullpen, past the glass doors, and down the hallway.

Once you were both out of earshot, he leaned in. “How private are we talking about?”

You nudged his side before guiding him towards the nearest office. As you stepped inside, your heart pounded in your chest, and you quickly glanced around the room to make sure it was empty. When you confirmed it was unoccupied, you turned back to see Spencer closing the door behind him.

Then everything snapped.

You weren't sure who made the first move, whether it was you or both of you acting on instinct, but before you could process it, his lips were on yours, his arms pulling you close, tongue colliding with your own. You gasped at his eagerness and wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed yourself against him.

With a boldness you didn’t know you possessed, you pushed him against the nearest wall, your hands tangling in his hair as his hands found their way to your ass, squeezing lightly. A soft moan escaped your lips and he responded by deepening the kiss further. It felt like time stood still as you lost yourself in the heat of his mouth against yours, until you finally pulled back, your lips brushing against his jaw.

“What…” He gasped when your mouth trailed lower. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t know,” you groaned into his neck, his scent filling your senses. Why did he have to smell so good? “I think it’s your hair.”

“My… hair?”

You pulled back slightly, your fingers tracing along the collar of his shirt, your eyes roaming over the exposed skin of his chest where the top buttons were left undone. “Or maybe it’s the shirt.”

“My shirt?”

“Yes!” You half-exclaimed, half-whispered, trying to keep your voice down. “I think I’m ovulating and you’re not helping.”

Spencer's eyes widened in surprise, a flush creeping up his neck as he processed your words. "Oh," he managed to say. “I didn't expect that.”

"Sorry," you apologized, feeling your cheeks warm with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to—”

But before you could say anything else, his expression softened, and his grip on your hips tightened. "Hey, it's okay," he reassured you. “It’s common for women to experience changes in their hormones during ovulation. It's completely natural and nothing to be embarrassed about."

You looked up at him, your hands sliding down his chest. “Yeah?”

He nodded. “Yes, it’s just your body doing its thing,” he said reassuringly. "And honestly, it's kind of flattering to know that... I have that effect on you."

A small smile tugged at the corners of your lips as your palms drifted lower. “What else do you know about this stuff?”

“Well, around the time of ovulation, a woman's body produces more estrogen, which can increase libido—”

His breath hitched when his eyes fell on your hand resting over his pants.

“What?” you prompted, a playful glint in your eye. “Why did you stop?”

Spencer's cheeks flushed slightly as he met your gaze. "I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I was just going to mention that… increased estrogen levels during ovulation can also lead to heightened sensitivity in erogenous zones—”

But his words trailed off into a sigh as you palmed his arousal over his pants, feeling the hardness beneath your touch. He was undeniably aroused, and the way he responded to your touch only fueled you even more. With a mischievous grin, you ran your palm up and down his length, feeling him throb in response before letting out a playful giggle.

You didn’t realize it would be this fun to be the one doing the teasing.

“Tell me more, Spence.”

He swallowed hard before managing to speak. "W-Well,” he stammered. "Increased estrogen levels can also... enhance blood flow to certain areas, leading to heightened sensitivity and... uh, increased pleasure—”

But before he could finish his sentence, you applied a little more pressure, causing him to let out a low groan of pleasure. His words faltered, his focus shifting entirely to the delicious sensation of your hand stroking him. Your eyes traveled down, watching the way his cock pressed against the fabric of his pants, noting how thick and hard he was. 

But as your gaze lingered, you caught sight of the time on your watch, and reality came crashing back in. You reluctantly pulled your hand away from him, and Spencer blinked at your sudden withdrawal, his desire-clouded mind trying to focus on you.

“What's wrong?” He whispered. “Why did you stop?”

“I… I kind of got carried away, I’m sorry," you noted. "We should probably get back before they start to wonder where we are."

He went still, and so did you. The room’s air conditioner hummed softly, filling the silence as you both simply stared at each other. When he didn’t respond, you slowly backed away and moved toward the door, but his grip on your arm stopped you. You turned towards him, eyebrows raised while he seemed to hesitate to say the next words.

After a moment, he sighed, his gaze softening as he finally found the words he was looking for.

“The other day, after we… you know,” he emphasized, and you nodded, urging him to continue. “I had to deal with this myself.”

His eyes flicked over the bulge in his pants and you stifled a laugh, amused at his sudden fluster. “Yeah, you said you were going to ignore it.”

“I didn’t,” he replied. “I couldn’t.”

“And?”

“And…” he hesitated, his gaze flickering away for a moment before meeting yours again.

There was a moment of silence until you realized what he was implying. You gasped, the hand he wasn’t holding covering your mouth in shock. “Here?” you asked in disbelief. “At work?”

His cheeks flushed, but he nodded sheepishly. “Yeah,” he admitted. “In the bathroom.”

“Spencer,” you exclaimed in a hushed tone, “That’s...”

“I know, I know,” he cut in, his tone self-deprecating. “But in my defense, it was all your fault.”

You giggled. “Me? I barely touched you!”

"Exactly, but it was enough to drive me crazy,” he said, and when he saw you laughing, he gave you a deadpanned look. “It’s not funny.”

“Oh come on, it kind of is.” You shook your head in amusement. “Why are you telling me this?”

He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching yours. “Because I don’t want to leave this room and deal with it by myself again.”

Your eyebrows shot up. “Is this your way of asking me to touch you?”

His eyes widened almost cartoonishly wide, the flush creeping up his cheeks contrasting against the paleness of his skin, making his reaction all the more apparent.

“Please?”

You couldn’t suppress the grin that tugged at your lips. “Spencer, we only have…” You glanced over your watch. “Fifteen minutes left.”

“I can probably finish in five.”

You bit your bottom lip. How did you end up in this predicament all over again? Although this time, you felt like you had the upper hand, and somehow, it was strangely exciting to see him so affected, to have him practically begging for your touch when you were supposed to be in a hurry.

He looked at you expectantly. How could you say no when his eyes were wide and pleading? 

“You know what?” You turned to him fully, taking a step forward. “I think you deserve it. It’s your first day back, after all.”

Before you could second guess yourself, you reached for him again. His breath hitched slightly as you undid his belt and slowly lowered the zipper of his pants. His arousal strained against the fabric and you briefly met his gaze. Without a word, you slid your hand inside his pants, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your fingertips.

He felt full in your hand and painfully hard. When his response was nothing but his ragged breathing, you reached for the waistband of his briefs with your other hand, pulling down slightly until his cock was freed from its confines. 

“Spence, you’re so…” Your voice trailed off, eyes fixated on him. The tip was thick and bulbous, a deeper shade than the shaft where pulsing veins ran up the long length. You were mesmerized by his size; it wasn’t too big nor too small, just perfect.

“You’re so pretty.”

His eyes fluttered closed for a moment before he looked back at you. “You think so?”

You nodded, feeling the heat and the weight of him in your grasp. A droplet of wetness glistened on the tip, and unable to resist, your thumb brushed along it, earning a sharp intake of breath from him as his hips instinctively bucked against your touch. With a newfound confidence, you wrapped your hand around him, feeling his hardness pulsating against your palm. 

The skin was soft as you’d expected, warm to the touch, but his length was stiff and throbbing when you squeezed. If you stayed still, you were sure you could count his heartbeat. As your hand moved up and down tentatively, trying to take in every detail of his member, you couldn’t believe you were finally feeling each vein that bulged up his shaft.

“Do you mind if I spit on it?”

He let out a low groan, his head falling back against the wall. “No.”

“Really? Coming from someone who’s germaphobic?” You smiled amusedly. "I thought you'd be more concerned about hygiene."

"I'll make an exception for this."

You couldn't help but laugh at his response. Trusting your instincts, you craned your neck down and let the liquid spill from your mouth, coating his tip in a steady flow. Your saliva glistened in the light, slowly trickling down the length of his cock. Then you began to stroke him gently, you felt him respond eagerly, his breaths growing heavier and his hips rocking gently against your hand.

His head fell back against the wall, his breath coming in ragged gasps. “God, that feels…” 

Feeling a surge of pride at his reaction, you couldn’t resist teasing him further. “Is this how you touched yourself in the bathroom?”

He swallowed hard, his breath hitching as he met your gaze. 

“Were you thinking of me?” You pressed on. “Did you imagine me touching you like this?”

His response was barely a whisper, but you caught it. “Yes…”

His breath was warm against your face, and you looked up, taking in the way he was looking at you through half-lidded eyes, lips parted as soft moans slipped out of his mouth. Who would’ve thought he made the prettiest sounds? You knew he was trying to keep his voice down, but the sight of him struggling to suppress his pleasure only made it more thrilling.

“Or did you imagine me getting on my knees, taking you in my mouth?” you teased, your voice low and sultry as you traced your tongue along your bottom lip. “Did you picture yourself deep inside of me, how tight and wet I would be?”

His forehead dipped until it was resting against yours, breaking the self-control he was desperately trying to maintain. “Oh god—I-I can’t hold it any longer.”

Your response was simply to increase your speed, your fist moving in fast short strokes up his leaking cock. He was slick with arousal, and you focused your attention on the sensitive tip, prompting even louder sounds of pleasure from him.

���Wait—" he gripped your wrist, forcing you to stop. “I’m so close.”

You frowned, watching the conflict play out in his expression. "I thought you wanted this?"

“I know, it’s just—“ His brows furrowed, a hint of desperation in his eyes as he struggled to maintain control. Then, with a defeated sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want to make a mess.”

You scanned the room, your mind racing for a solution. The office offered no privacy, and there was nothing around to help clean up the mess he would definitely make, so you needed a different approach.

Without hesitation, you got down on your knees.

“What are you doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing?”

“You’re gonna—” he gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing nervously. “I can’t let you do that.”

“Shh,” you hushed, lightly hitting his thigh. “Just help me hold my hair up.”

He hesitated for a moment, but the desire in his eyes was undeniable. Slowly, he reached out, gathering your hair in his hands. You felt the warmth of his fingers against your scalp, his touch gentle yet firm. You leaned in, your mouth hovering just inches from his swollen tip as you glanced up, meeting his eyes one last time before you took him into your mouth.

The taste of him was intoxicating, and you could feel every twitch and throb as you wrapped your lips around him. His grip on your hair tightened, a guttural moan escaping his lips, your tongue swirling around his tip, tasting the salty bead of arousal that had formed there. His hips bucked involuntarily, and you took him deeper, jaw stretching wide as you struggled to get every inch of him inside your mouth while wrapping your hand around what was left.

You moved slowly at first, getting used to the feel of him in your mouth. It didn’t take long until your mouth was working in tandem with your hand, creating a rhythm that had his body shaking. The room was quickly filled with the sounds of his ragged breathing and soft moans, and you couldn’t believe this was actually happening. There you were, hiding behind an empty office with the potential of getting caught. 

But you didn’t care, nor did Spencer, as he held your hair and bucked his hips into your mouth. You could feel the tension building in him, his breaths coming in short, desperate gasps. He was so, so close, and you wanted to push him over the edge. You quickened your pace, your mouth moving up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks to create a tighter seal.

His moans grew louder, and you could tell he was struggling to keep quiet. “Please,” he whined, his voice strained. “I-I’m gonna…”

A choked gasp cut off his words as he reached his climax, his release hitting the back of your throat in hot, pulsing waves. You swallowed him down, savoring the taste of him, the warmth spreading through you as you looked up at him, your eyes meeting his. His expression was one of pure ecstasy, mixed with a hint of disbelief and awe.

As he slowly came down from his high, his grip on your hair loosened, and he gently helped you to your feet. "That was..." he trailed off, still catching his breath. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to. Besides, I think you deserved it,” you said before pointing a finger at him. “But we can’t keep doing this at work.”

He looked at you, amusement and disbelief dancing in his eyes as he adjusted his clothes. You could almost read his thoughts: you were the one who initiated this, not once, but twice. The first time might have been out of panic, but this time, it was all you.

“I’m serious,” you said, crossing your arms to emphasize your point. “Now that you’re back, we should keep a certain distance between us. No more sneaking around.”

He raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. But then you watched as his expression suddenly shifted, as if he remembered something and his smile turned into a frown followed by the furrow of his eyebrows.

“What? What’s wrong?”

He glanced at you, his hands sinking into the front pockets of his slacks. “I haven’t told this to anyone but… there’s a condition to my reinstatement.”

“What do you mean?” 

He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours. “For every hundred days that I spend on the field, I’m required to take thirty days off.” 

You blinked, processing the information. “Wait, what? So you’re not fully back?”

“Technically I am, just not how I want it to be.”

You watched as his shoulders slightly fell. “You’re not happy about this, are you?”

“What am I supposed to do on my days off? A whole month of sitting around in my apartment doing nothing?”

You took a step closer, placing a comforting hand on his arm. “You’re not going to be sitting around doing nothing. Think of it as an opportunity. You can catch up on your reading, maybe even take a trip somewhere.”

He shook his head. “That’s not the same. I want to be out there, doing my job, helping people. It’s what I’m good at.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t give your best if you’re burnt out. These breaks could help you recharge, keep you sharp.”

He sighed, looking down at the floor. “I just feel like I’m being benched, like they don’t trust me fully.”

You tugged his arm, forcing him to meet your gaze. “Hey, they trust you. This is about keeping you safe. After everything you went through… Spence, you deserve this break. They just want to make sure you’re at your best every time you’re back in the field.”

When he didn’t seem to fully absorb your words, you pressed on.

“Think about it, you have so many options. You could pick up a new hobby, spend more time with your mom... or finally visit those places you’ve always talked about. Like that museum you mentioned before, what was it called again?”

His gaze softened as he listened to your suggestions. "The Smithsonian," he replied after a moment, a small smile playing on his lips. “I've always wanted to spend a whole day there without rushing.”

"Exactly! Now you'll have the time to do that."

He nodded slowly, the tension easing from his shoulders. "I guess you're right.”

“See? It’s all about perspective.”

His lips curved into a smile as you both fell into silence. Then, he studied you, his eyes scanning your features as if trying to decipher the thoughts swirling in your mind through the subtle shifts of your expression.

“Will you come with me?” 

Your heart skipped a beat, and your breath caught in your throat at the unexpected question.

“You want me to come with you to the museum?”

"Yeah," he murmured, his voice soft, almost quiet. "Will you?"

It was a simple question, but it held a weight that you couldn't ignore. You had spent plenty of time together, grabbing lunch, chatting at the coffee shop down the road. But this felt… different. More personal. More intimate.

And suddenly it came crashing to you. You were so absorbed in what was happening between you, the stolen kisses, the physical attraction, that you didn’t realize your friendship was never going to be the same again.

On one hand, the idea of spending more time alone with him was undeniably tempting, but the rational part of you wasn’t sure if it was the wisest thing to do. He was your friend, a good one at that, and getting emotionally involved with friends could either strengthen or strain the relationship.

You sighed, running a hand through your hair as you searched for the right words. But before you could answer him, both of your phones vibrated with a notification. You both looked at your own devices and read the message.

“We’re leaving now,” Spencer announced, shoving back his phone in his pocket. “We should go.”

You nodded slowly, your gaze lingering on the door for a moment longer before you turned towards him. “You know what? You should head out first. I need some time to myself.”

He furrowed his brows slightly. You could tell he wanted to ask more questions, but he didn’t press on. “You sure?”

“Yes,” you replied. “Just give me a minute and I’ll follow behind.”

His eyes lingered on you for another second before he nodded, offering you a small, reassuring smile. “Sure, I’ll save a seat for you.”

You returned his smile, though it felt more like a grimace as you watched him exit the room. The click of the door closing behind him seemed to echo in the sudden silence, leaving you alone with your swirling thoughts as the rush of emotions flooded over you. It felt as if you were standing at the edge of a precipice, unsure whether to leap or retreat.

With a deep breath, you pressed a hand to your chest, trying to calm the fluttering inside. But the truth was undeniable—you were falling for him, and you were falling fast.

[perlelune]

Oblivion | Paul Atreides

There used to be beginnings and ends, nights and days, dream and reality, before the haze took over, swallowing every thought, every memory, every whisper of free will.

Warnings: NON-CON, Fremen Reader, Kynes!Reader, Mind Control, Memory Manipulation, Padishah Emperor Paul, Loss of Identity, Brainwashing, Mentions of war and religious fanaticism

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Muad’Dib leads the way. 

It is what the prophecy dictates. That he is the voice from the Outer World. The one who will lead your people to paradise. The one who will turn Dune’s arid desert lands into bountiful, endless green fields. 

But as your eyes rest on him, you do not see the chosen one. You do not see the Lisan Al-Ghaib. You see your friend Paul, broken, lost, his heart shattered into a million pieces due to your cousin’s absence. 

He sits at the head of his bed, shadows fluttering across his delicate features from the glowglobes’ dull orange light. Wide black rings surround his sunken blue eyes, the result of his daily consumption of spice melange. Lank, greasy brown curls hang around his handsome face. A pang twists your chest. He hasn’t slept in days, has barely gotten a full night of replenishing sleep since she left on a maker’s back.

You cannot blame your cousin. Paul’s ascendency to the Golden Lion throne came at a cost. A hefty one. Promises were broken. Trust was destroyed. Only time will repair the damage that was done. Though you carry faith the two of them will find their way back to each other. 

You stir the spice-coffee in the pot, straining the shimmering dark powder before pouring some in a cup. A spicy cinnamon smell coats the cool night air. 

You rise and bring the cup to him.

“For you, Usul.”

A soft smile blooms on his lips as he takes a slow, weary sip.

“You make it so well,” he praises.

You glow at the compliment, returning his smile. Your grandmother used to show you and Chani how to blend coffee beans with spice and herbs. The knowledge never left you. Now, every time you feel troubled or upset, you make a fresh kettleful. A single sip of the familiar brew is enough to alleviate your frazzled nerves. Especially here, so far away from Sietch Tabr, between the strange stone walls of the Arrakeen Keep, you have craved little reminders of home more than ever before.

Fremen belong in the desert, not in peculiar tents made of marble and stone.

Paul’s brows crumple as he studies you. 

“You don’t have to take care of me,” he says.

“I can get another Fremen-”

His fingers latch around your wrist, desperation sizzling under his touch. 

“I prefer it to be you.” He sighs. A bone deep fatigue radiates from the sound. You halt in your tracks. You suppose you could stay a while longer. “Please, stay, your presence soothes me.”

You nod. “I’ll stay, Muad’Dib.”

Relief falls over his features. 

The doors suddenly open, the guards stepping aside to let Stilgar in. He bows to Paul.

“Lisan Al-Ghaib…”

Your friend’s mouth flattens into a thin line. 

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

Stilgar acquiesces. He will never stop addressing Paul with reverence and admiration. None of his followers believes in him more. At times, it scares you a little. While you share the same faith, the fervor with which every Fedaykin is willing to lay their swords in his name can be frightening. Sometimes you wonder if Chani was right. How much will it take to liberate your world? How much blood will require spilling? You’re not completely naive. No war was ever won without a few casualties. Still, part of you hopes the war will end soon and peaceful times will come.

“No sign of her?” Paul asks. 

A contrite expression tugs the older man’s face.

“Apologies, my liege. We scouted the Southern regions this time. We couldn’t find her. She knows the desert well. It is home to us Fremen. She will not be found…”

“...Unless she wants to be found,” you finish, grabbing the empty cup from Paul’s hands and placing it back on the table.

The faint embers of hope in Paul’s cobalt gaze flicker out. Your heart sinks, for both you and him. Though you do not wish to burden him, you miss your cousin too. Her practicality and common sense. Her strength. Without her, a piece of you is missing. A crucial one. Your mother died in childbirth and your father in battle, so both of you grew up together, close enough in age to share secrets and play together for most of your childhood. 

It was Chani who taught you how to summon a worm and ride upon its back for the first time. She is the sister tragic circumstances blessed you with.

Stilgar apologizes profusely once more before taking his leave.

As soon as he’s gone, Paul’s shoulders slump.

“She hates me.” 

You crouch beside him.

“She doesn’t hate you. She never could. She is your quiet in the storm, and you are hers. She will return when she is ready.”

A wry laugh escapes his lips. 

“I have Irulan, my beloved wife, who is likely plotting my demise as we speak. Qizarate missionaries pressing me to take action and purge the non-believers on Aldinor. I am surrounded by foes, everywhere I look.” That distant expression he gets whenever his visions haunt him touches his face. “Blades pointed at my neck at all times, waiting for a sign of weakness to strike.”

You grab his hand, reassuring him, “You also have friends, Usul, who believe in your cause.”

“Fanatics,” he corrects bitterly. 

Your chest swells with worry. You don’t like it when he questions himself as such. His cause is right. He freed Arrakis from the Harkonnen’s iron-fisted rule. He will bring peace to every world in the universe. It is written. It’s the only path forward.

“You are not alone.” His fingers squeeze around yours. Warmth rushes to your face, the realization that you’re awfully close to the Emperor striking you. You adjust the nezhoni scarf covering your hair and rise. “I shall let you rest, my Lord.”

“Stay, please.”

His tone is beseeching. Your gaze swings to the window. There, moon beams pierce through the colorful glass, scattering rainbow splashes of light across the floor. Vibrant stars pepper the dark sky, pearls lost in a sea of ink. It’s pitch black outside. You should be in your own room. Not his.

“Muad’Dib, it’s late…”

His grip on your hand tightens. When he speaks again, his tone is different. Disembodied. Powerful. Its tantalizing echo drips inside your head like honey. 

“Stay,” he mumbles. You plop down on the bed, your body moving on its own, driven by the strange, irresistible thrall of Paul’s voice.

“Usul…” 

He cups your cheeks. 

“Sleep beside me tonight.”

“I’m not her.”

“I don’t want you to be.”

“She should be with me and she isn’t. But you are.” His inflection becomes soft and inviting as he drinks you in. As if he were lumbering through the desert, parched and desperate, and you were a well overflowing with fresh water. “You are beautiful. I never noticed before.” He pauses, tracing your bottom lip. “Perhaps I should have.”

You blink, dazed. When did Paul’s face get so close to yours? You can outline each of his long lashes, the speckles of green lingering in his blue eyes. 

“Paul-”

His mouth grazes yours, his thumb stroking your cheeks. It only lasts a few seconds. The warm plushness of his lips on yours yanks you back to reality. You gasp and flinch back. When you recoil, his silky tone fills your ears once more.

“Don’t fight it. You love me, remember?”

A confused whisper slips through your lips. Two parts of your mind wrestle with Paul’s words. 

“I do?”

His eyes dive into yours.

“Of course, you do.”

“Of course I do,” you repeat, his tone nudging aside the doubts lurking inside your mind. 

A bright smile unfurls on his lips, his lids sagging to half-mast.

“It’s like you said before. You are my quiet in the storm and I am yours.”

Right. You uttered those very same words. How could you forget?

You are Paul’s quiet in the storm. He is yours.

His mouth covers yours. It moves slowly against your own. He explores your mouth as he cradles your face. His long lashes fall over his cheekbones as he loses himself in your taste. He hums against your lips, gentle fingers touching your face. You don’t move, eyes half-open as you let it happen. It’s foreign, the sensation of Paul’s lips on yours. Foreign and strange yet you can’t help but numbly accept it. 

Once he frees your lips, he rests his forehead against yours. 

“Come into my arms, my love,” he says.

You don’t resist as he pulls you into his embrace, nudging you onto the bed. Soft strands of Paul’s brown mane brush against your cheek as he buries his head in the crook of your neck, inhaling your spice-coated scent. 

His arms circle your waist. Your back melds against his chest, the warmth of your bodies mingling through the thin layers of your clothes. 

“You smell so good,” he mutters. Your scarf shifts when he rubs his face against it. “Don’t ever leave me.”

When you don’t reply, his tone gets firmer. “Promise it.”

The words roll off your tongue easily.

“I won’t ever leave you, Paul.”

Tension leaks out of his tightly coiled muscles. 

“Good,” he says, drifting off to sleep quickly with you nestled in his snug embrace. 

You fall asleep too, no thoughts in your head, Paul’s soft snores lulling you into peaceful slumber. 

You awake with a start, the stark unfamiliarity of the palatial chambers you find yourself in causing your pulse to soar. Your eyes dart about the room. Recognition hits you. These are the Emperor’s apartments.

Your eyes grow wide. You’re not supposed to be here. Panic sets in.

“W-What am I doing here?”

Paul’s quiet voice flows across your back.

“Calm down.”

“No. I shouldn’t be here…”

You start crawling off the bed but Paul’s fingers around your wrist impede your departure. 

He holds your face, vibrant blue eyes locking with yours. You find yourself incapable of looking away, ensnared by his unflinching focus.

“I said, Calm down.”

The alarms ringing inside your head fall quiet. You lean into Paul’s touch. What were you doing? What were you thinking? Every thought you attempt to grasp at evaporates in the heat of Muad’Dib’s stare. 

“There. Much better,” he coos, satisfaction hovering on his handsome face. His voice sinks into a sensual whisper. “Why don’t you kneel for me?”

You do as he instructs. Then all fades to black as quicksands of confusion engulf your thoughts. 

When you return to yourself, you aren’t on the bed anymore, but on your knees on the carpeted floor. 

Paul is looming over you, grunting, his throat bobbing. One of his hands is curled around your nape while the other is under your jaw. 

You note the saltiness coating your tongue, the drool on your chin, the soreness in the back of your throat. 

You choke on his length, air wavering inside your lungs. 

Paul’s cock is in your mouth. 

The sick, awful realization tumbles over you like a bag of stones. 

Muffled moans leave you as you lift pleading eyes towards him.

You place your hands on his thighs, shoving with all your strength. 

Paul doesn’t let you move. He cradles your face and thrusts inside your mouth until his balls are pressed into your chin. 

Clouds of lust obscure his gaze as it falls upon you. 

He caresses your face, dragging his cock out before pushing it inside your mouth again. Gurgled sounds leave your throat. Tears skip down your cheeks and you wonder when you’ve started crying. 

Fremen do not cry. Ever. Even for the dead. It is a rare, sacred act.

Paul wipes them off your face with his thumbs. 

“You love me. It is what lovers do,” he says matter-of-factly.

Your body relaxes. 

Right. Of course. You love him. It is what lovers do. 

You hollow your cheeks and suck him off. He unleashes a throaty sigh of delight as you pleasure him with your mouth. 

When his seed drips down your tongue, he coaxes you not to waste a single drop. You swallow all of it, showing no resistance when he nudges a stray drop between your wet lips. 

Several days in a row, you awake in the emperor’s chambers. At first, you experience great confusion. However, Paul’s soothing words always quell your rising panic. It becomes all you know. The Emperor’s mesmerizing voice. His large, soft bed. His ceaseless, ravenous touch. 

Sweaty, tangled limbs melting in lewd harmony.

You stop questioning it. Even the strange lapses of time when you are in one room and mysteriously wind up in another. It isn’t rare for you to wake up with the Emperor’s head bobbing between your thighs, greedily lapping at your folds, or with your hips grinding into his as he impales you on his cock. 

It is where you belong. And you believe him when he says that, mumbling loving promises into your ear in the dead of night.

“If we do not strike fast and hard, they will not accept your rule,” Stilgar says. 

“They worship a false god. We are doing them a favor,” another man sitting at the table interjects. 

A shaky exhale flows from your tongue. You look around, dismay filling you when you realize you’re in Paul’s war room amidst a council meeting. Your head throbs. How did you get here?

You rise from your chair. Bemused gazes land on you. 

Princess Irulan snickers from her seat.

“Husband, your concubine is acting strange,” she sneers.

Concubine? You step away from the table.

You blink several times as you stumble outside. You grip your temples, your forehead scrunching. That cannot be right. Is it? 

You are no one’s concubine. 

You are…

You are…

Adrenaline pumps through your blood as your head buzzes. 

The answer will not come, your mind keeping it under firm lock and key.

Frustration mounts within you. You blindly waddle around.

You end up in a room that bears vague familiarity. You lean against a basin full of water. Water…just lying around. That seems strange.

Your eyes land on a mirror on the opposite wall. The reflection in the glass has your heart rate spiking. Who is this?

You bolt to your feet, the water in the basin splashing around your feet. 

Your tremulous fingers rise to your face, horror filling you when the woman in the mirror mimicks your exact motions. 

Your gaze travels across the wide, open space. Quick breaths rush from your throat. The Emperor’s room. Why did you think it was your room? 

You stagger backwards. You gasp as you bump into a solid form.

You whirl, eyes widening.

“Paul.”

He gauges you, slight concern etched in his blue eyes. Relief fills you as you soak in his boyish, slender features, much more familiar than those of the stranger in the mirror. 

You know Paul. Muad’Dib. Paul is familiar, safe. You trust him. He will tell you who you are.

“Yes, my love?”

“Paul, who am I?”

A displeased frown settles on his brow. He approaches you and grabs your face. His expression hardens.

“You are mine. Nothing else matters.”

“But Paul-”

Your protests are stifled by the feverish press of his lips on yours. A fog surrounds your thoughts as his kiss grows more passionate, his hands sweeping over your curves. You place your hand on his chest, pushing feebly.  

“Forget it. Forget it all, beloved,” he mumbles against your lips. You sag against him. You drown in Paul’s blue eyes, time stretching beyond eternity. 

When you gain a semblance of awareness, your naked form is writhing above Paul’s. Your palms are spread over his lithe muscles, your hips moving as he slams his cock into your cunt repetitively. Paul bites his lip, his gaze glued to the sight of his length disappearing between your wet folds. 

When did you get on the bed? When did you shed your clothes?

Every inquiry melts in the heat swirling across your damp flesh. 

Your lashes flutter as you unleash a broken whimper, Paul’s hard length touching you in places that send electricity rippling through your spine.

You tighten around him and he purrs. 

“Remember nothing but my name,” he rasps, clutching your hips possessively. He impales you on his length, thrusting faster. You choke on your breath, his quickening pace driving you wild.

You brace yourself on his chest and lose yourself in the pleasure, your breath hitching each time he pounds into you.

The filthy sounds of your coupling fill the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Paul’s deep, animalistic moans. Your soft, desperate whimpers. The blunt, wet sounds your cunt makes as he buries himself inside you. The bed rattling and squeaking under your writhing forms.

“Paul, Paul…” you pant as you bounce on his cock. An intensity ignites his eyes as his name falls from your tongue like a prayer. You toss your head back, voice dying in your throat as another wave of pleasure crashes over you. Your toes flex. You tremble, your body jolting as your slick walls flutter around his length. A husky moan leaves him. He twitches inside you. His back lifts from the sheets, his body tensing as he hits his peak too. Slick warmth spills from his tip, glazing your walls. 

An errant sliver of panic lurks inside your brain. Your eyes bulge as you glance down at where your body and Paul’s are conjoined. Rapid breaths burst from your chest.

Seeming to sense your distress, he shoves your hips back down when you try to squirm away.

His authoritative voice booms across the room, unnatural, multiplied. Everywhere at once. 

“Do not move, beloved. Let me fill you up. Make you mine in every way.”

Your breaths settle down. Your worries disappear. You look into Paul’s loving gaze. A smile unfans on his lips as you ride him with abandon again.

“What are you doing?”

You pivot at the abrupt sound of Paul’s voice. You pause above the bag you’re packing. You peer at him, mulling over an appropriate answer to his question. You do not find one. You only know that you stirred awake that morning, feeling strange, sore…Lost. The urge to collect your meager belongings and leave the Arrakeen Keep seared inside you since then. A hollow, distant voice rings inside your head.

Return to Sietch Tabr.

“I have to go. Something…Something isn’t feeling right.”

The muscles of Paul’s jaw flare, his tone as ice as he states, “You want to leave me.”

Discarding your bag, you rush to him. You take his hands in yours.

“No. I made you a promise. I just need time to think…I can’t think anymore, Paul.”

It’s true. Every day feels like trudging through a Coriolis storm, your thoughts scattering as dust in the wind the minute they form.

Everything that was solid before is now sand slipping through your fingers.

Paul’s gaze corrals yours.

“You don’t need to,” he says, gripping your face. His tone dips to a soft lilt that penetrates your senses. “Who are you?”

You search his eyes. A breeze blows away every single doubt you had.

The answer to every inquiry you had is right there. In Paul’s fond stare.

The persistent little voice in your head, that pesky plea begging to be heard suddenly falls quiet. The truth echoes in your head, Paul’s powerful voice filling your mind.

You are right where you belong. 

“I’m yours,” you utter with certainty.

His face softens. “That is correct, my love,” he says, stroking your cheek.

“Now, why don’t you settle down, beloved?” You let him escort you to the bed, coaxing you to take a seat on the sheets. “Agitating yourself as such isn’t good for you.”

He sinks to the floor and drops a gentle kiss over your round belly.

“And it’s not good for the baby either.”

[danveration]

Sleep well, amour Pt. 2

Parings: Alastor x reader

Summary: After falling asleep to his voice, you wake up and get confronted by Alastor. Later, you walk in on him sleeping.

Word count: 1523

Warnings: Mention of Alastor eating and k*lling a deer

part one

A/N: PART TWO IS HERE!!! I had SO many options wracking my brain on where to take this, but I picked this one! I hope you all enjoy it :’) let me know if you have any feedback, I’d love to hear it. Also, I’m currently working on all the requests I got :) as well as part 2 to that-no-good-first-man-on-earth

You wake up, blinking and looking around. Momentarily forgetting where you are.

Shit. You fell asleep in Alastor’s recording room. Thankfully, he isn’t here right now.

Before you could get up, you notice a purple blanket on you. It seems to be the one that was on his coat hanger. Did Alastor put this on you..? The thought has you smiling and your cheeks reddening.

Alastor’s voice sure does have an effect on you. You look outside to see what time it is, but remember that it’s Hell and the sky is always the same shade of red. You’re going to have to get used to that.

Getting up, you put the blanket back on the hanger and look around some more. It feels some-what intimate right now to be in his space when he’s not around. You wonder how long you’ve been asleep for.

You walk over to his table and notice a red “play” button on his radio equipment and are tempted to press it. It surely won’t cause any harm to hear what he was talking about when you were asleep. You press it and listen.

“Haha! For any sinner, I know it’s a tempting question. But I-“ The recording fast forwards. “Nevertheless, I find it quite amusing that this technology box thinks he is on any sort of level to me! Call me crazy but the sinners have been taaallkinggg, and they think he sounds quite obsessed.” He laughs, knowing Vox is probably listening.

You smile at his voice and find it funny how he is a bit of a drama queen when it comes to his radio broadcasts. You know deep down he doesn’t actually care about the whole situation with Vox, but it’s still funny how he entertains it.

Looking to your right, you see a mug that has “Oh Deer” written on it. There seems to be a bit of black coffee still left in the mug. The “deer” reference made you giggle. You’ve always wondered about his past and how exactly he is part deer anyhow. Oh well, It’ll reveal itself with time.

You’re looking at all the other buttons on his equipment, wondering what they do, when all of a sudden you hear light footsteps on the other side of the door. It’s most likely Alastor. Nobody would willingly go to his room without permission.

The door opens slowly and in steps Alastor. You notice how he opened the door quietly, to not make make much noise. As he still assumed you were asleep. You smiled at that.

He looks ahead and sees you, immediately smiling. “Ah! My dear. You’re awake!” He claps his hands together, his cane leaning on his side.

“Hey Al. Um.. about what happened I-“ You start.

“Ah, ah! No need to explain yourself, sweetheart! Don’t go giving yourself a headache.” He cuts in and laughs.

He looks down at you and says, “you just find comfort in my voice, don’t you?” He asks, with a smug smile.

Your eyes go wide and you stutter. Of course it wasn’t the most secretive thing. Still, you didn’t think he actually knew.

“U-um. Well..” You say.

He tilts his head to side as if saying, “Go on…”

There’s really no getting out of this. Plus, you don’t think Alastor would actually care. He’d probably just find it funny.

“Yeah, I do.” You admit. “I find comfort in your voice, of course I do! I just.. I don’t know.”

You aren’t sure what to say, it’s a tad embarrassing.

Alastor begins to laugh.

“I certainly could tell! I find it quite amusing if I do say so myself.” He says.

He definitely doesn’t mind it, he has a soft spot for you. But he’s also a bit confused on why you even do. He knows his radio voice is unique, but nobody ever commented on it bringing them comfort. They usually scream and run away when they hear him. You’ve been there long enough to see him kill and do so many things that people describe as “horrible, satanic, terrifying” but you still find comfort in him nevertheless? He thinks it’s absolutely adorable!

“Amusing?” You ask.

He nods and says, “Amusing, darling! I mean.. you know who I am, do you not?” He laughs and continues. “Though you still find comfort.. now that’s an interesting fact, don’t you think?”

You shy away, looking anywhere but him. You’re comfortable around him, of course, but you’re a tiny but embarrassed of this whole situation. You know he is definitely loving his though.

He places a finger on your jaw and guides your head back to look at him.

“Uh, uh, dear. There’s no need to feel shy! I never said it was a bad thing. I’m truly honoured!” He says, smiling down at you.

You and him have been getting to know each other for a while now and you’ve just been going deeply and deeply more interested in him. You almost laugh at yourself because you sometimes act as if you did when you alive, how you obsessed over fictional characters and “fan fiction.”

You look at him and say, “Well, that’s good then.” You chuckle.

“Mm, it is isn’t it?” He says.

He thinks you’re absolutely pathetic, but in a good way. He wouldn’t let anything hurt you, this new sensation is something he never wants to get rid of.

———————————————————————

Later that day, Charlie wanted you to pass a message on to Alastor about the hotel reservations. You knew he was in his room because he mentioned that if you needed him, he’d be in there having some dinner (aka, deer). Which he has in his half room half forest. You really wonder how on earth he even did that. The wonders of being a radio demon!

You’re at his door, lightly knocking. You wait a few seconds but you don’t hear anything from the other side.

“Al?” You question while knocking again.

“Hm.” You think.

You aren’t sure if you should go in or not. Sure, the thing Charlie told you about could wait but you also wanted to make sure he was okay. What if he.. choked or something? You’re sure the radio demon could handle that but you just want to make sure.

“Al, I’m coming in.. okay?” You say while knocking once more.

You slowly twist the knob and push the door open. Peaking in, you see him on the other side of the room, in a chair.

“Alastor, are you alr-“ You stop yourself when you notice his eyes are closed.

Closing the door behind you, you walk up to him.

He’s currently sitting in the chair, his arm on the table and his head resting on his hand. He looks so peaceful. His mouth isn’t smiling and his face just looks so.. relaxed. You’ve never saw him like this before. He mumbles occasionally and his ears twitch every so often as he sleeps. You aren’t sure how he finds this position comfortable, but you smile at it nonetheless.

You don’t want to disturb him so you leave, now relaxed that you know he’s okay.

Right before you grab the knob of the door, you hear, “Y/n?”

You whip your head back and you see him standing up, looking at you with his smile.

“Did you need something, dear?” He asks, as if he wasn’t just dead asleep a second ago.

Of course, it makes sense he is a light sleeper.

“O-oh, no. Charlie just wanted me to tell you that the renovations went well and that the guys who inspect the place will be here tomorrow!” You say. “Sorry if I disturbed you.”

“Ahh, alright! And nonsense! You couldn’t disturb me.” He says.

You look at him and smile.

“You know, you could join me if you want! I was just resting and then going to have some dinner.” He offers.

You perk up but then remember that Husk assigned you a task of picking up crates of whiskey for the bar.

“Shit, sorry. I can’t. I have to go get more alcohol for the bar.” You say with a frown.

“More? If I remember correctly, we just got new shipments in.. last week?” He says with a laugh. “Though I’m not surprised we ran out again. Husker is a busy man. Well, my dear. Some other time, then!”

You notice him looking back into the forest, eyeing a deer.

“Yeah, some other time.” You smile. “Have a good dinner, Alastor!”

He smiles back at you says, “Oh I will.” He chuckles, his radio eyes making an appearance as he looks back the deer.

“You have yourself a lovely day, sweetheart!” He says with a wave.

“You too!” Waving back, you then open the door and leave. Once you leave you hear shrieking on the other side of the door, definitely the deer that Al was eyeing.

You’re excited to have more encounters with him, and even take him up on the dinner offer! You remember him mentioning he wanted to introduce you to his friend, Rosie. You’re looking forward to it.

[leaentries]

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SYNOPSIS: just luke really loving his girl’s tits

WARNINGS: smut, basically no plot, dry humping, tit sucking (?), boobjob, luke likes to dirty talk a wee bit, a whole lot of praise bc who doesn't want to be luke's good girl?, cursing

WORDCOUNT: 1.47k+

MESSAGE FROM ME: howdy my loves! this is my first writing since coming off my hiatus so bare with me please! i’m slowly but surely coming back and will be posting more often so be on the lookout! + feel free to hit up my inbox and chat with me or send in your smutty lil thoughts! 🧚‍♀️

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“Oh, fuck.”

“Shh, Jack’s gonna hear us, pretty girl.” Luke’s voice came in a hushed whisper as his breath hit against your ear.

Your hips buck against his thigh as it slotted between your own. Luke’s body pressed into your plushy one, pinning you to the wall of his room. You bit your lip in attempt to stop the moan threatening to escape at the friction against your swollen clit.

Your head tilted up, desperately searching for the respite that is Luke’s warm lips. The pure, unbridled need that churned deep in your gut gained control over every rational thought you could have wished to conjure up.

“So needy,” He mumbled, dipping his head to fulfill your wants.

You couldn’t help the small moan from escaping your throat as his lips clashed with yours. Luke’s tongue immediately licked at your own, savoring the taste of desperation mixed with the flavor of your lip balm. His hands gripped at your hips, guiding them in a gentle motion across his thigh.

“Please, Lukey,” Your voice came out as a broken plea.

“Please what, baby? What do you need?” He smirked against your lips, knowing how wound up you’d been after he left you high and dry before he and Jack left for morning skate.

“Need you,” You pant.

Luke felt his resolve breaking at the sight of your wide eyes gazing up at him. He could feel the way your breasts pressed harder against his front with each gasp for breath. He groaned, his eyes shutting briefly.

“You’re killing me here, pretty girl.” He says, opening his eyes and bending slightly to be level with you. “Pressing these…” He pauses for a moment, stooping lower to suck open mouthed kisses to the top of your ample cleavage, “Gorgeous tits against me.”

Your head lulled back against the wall with a low ‘thump.’ His hands traveled from your hips to slip under the material of your low-cut sweatshirt. He eagerly pushed it up, only separating from you in order to remove the soft fabric.

“Want these in my mouth,” Luke rasps, gazing down at you as his calloused hands cup your soft breasts, “You’ll let me have them, right, angel?”

You felt yourself nodding mindlessly, the thought of his lips around your stiff nipples sending jolts through your body. Luke carefully guided you to the bed, pulling you onto his lap.

“Arch your back a little,” He instructed lowly, one of his hands pushing at the middle of your back. He smiled as your breasts perked up further, now directly in front of his face. “Good girl.”

The praise buzzed through your bones, settling deep in your gut along with the warm feeling of arousal. Your eye fluttered closed the second his lips wrapped around the first peaked bud, swirling with intent. Your hands grasped at his shoulders for stability while Luke’s splayed possessively on your back.

“Oh, Lukey,” You breathed out, your hips rutting against his prominent bulge.

He groaned at the pleasure, the vibrations traveling through your breast. You yelped as his hand came down harshly on your ass.

“What did I say about being quiet?” He mumbled against you.

You let out a shaky breath, biting your lip as he bucked his hips to meet your movements. With the way he sucked on your nipples, paired with his clothed cock dragging deliciously against your throbbing core, you found yourself struggling to stay quiet.

Luke removed his mouth, gazing up at you, “Are you going to keep those pretty sounds in? Or do I need to keep you quiet myself?”

You felt yourself blush at his question. However, you quickly answer it by letting out a loud whine as his cock presses up against your clit.

“Thought so,” Luke mumbles, bringing up one of his hands to cover your mouth. He takes your nipple back into his mouth, biting slightly. You could feel your eyes flutter closed at the joint pleasure and pain. Luke switches to the other tit, giving it the same attention. In tandem, his hips maintained the pace against yours, his own moans muffled into your supple skin. He eventually pulls off, his chest heaving.

"Let me fuck these pretty tits, baby," He practically begs, his voice cracking with need, "Please?"

The sound of dripping sex poured from his voice, and you quickly found yourself scrambling to rest on your knees as he pushed down his sweats, revealing his swollen cock. You had to hold back a whine at the sight of his angry red tip leaking precum, the pearly white bead having your mouth ache with emptiness.

Luke wrapped his hand around the base, groaning softly, "Spit on my cock," He commands, "Be a good girl for me, angel." You immediately oblige, getting his cock slick enough to glide through your cleavage. "Such a good fucking girl, aren't you? Now, push those gorgeous tits together."

You let Luke nestle his cock in the valley of your breasts as you push them together snugly. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as he slowly begins to thrust up into the warm plush. "Oh god, pretty girl," He groans out, "These tits were fucking made for me."

You whine at his crude words, your cunt dripping with arousal at this point. Shifting on your knees to try and gain some form of relief, Luke's eyes bore over your form intensely.

"Does my sweet girl need something?" He coos down at you as he continues his leisurely pace.

You nod desperately, "Uh-huh...h-hurts, Lukey" You whimper out. Luke tilts his head as he does his best to manage control of his breathing with the sheer amount of pleasure that is being shot through his cock.

"Yeah, baby?" He pants, "Reach down and rub your clit f'me." He says, bringing his hands to help you hold your generous boobs together. He watches your movements with sharp eyes, his breathing stuttering the second you begin to rub at your swollen bud. "Atta girl," He smirks as his breath comes out in short bursts, "Lettin' me use her like the perfect girl she is."

You whine at the praise, your lip slotting between your teeth as you move your fingers in small figure-8s. Luke's head falls back, his adam's apple bobbing as he swallows thickly. You can tell by the way his abs clench that he's beginning to near that precipice of pleasure.

"Just like that, baby, rub faster for me. Want you to cum with me," He grits out, his chest tensing as a sheen layer of sweat coats his pale skin.

"G-gonna cum f'you...be your good girl," You mumbled mindlessly, too lost in the strumming beginnings of your climax to keep your mouth shut.

Luke smiled, "You are, pretty girl," He praised, "All mine, baby. Always such a good girl."

Your fingers continue their movements bringing you teetering on the edge, but you don't let yourself tip over into that blissful state just yet, wanting to wait for Luke to give you permission. "Fuck, fuck fuck," You murmur under your breath.

Luke thrusts up into your tits at an unrelenting pace, chasing his oncoming high, "F-fuck, baby, be a good girl and cum for me. Cum for me now, sweet girl."

Not wasting another moment, you tip over into the surging waves of pleasure. Your hips buck against your hand, thighs clenching from the intense stimulation. "Oh, Luke, Luke, Lukey" You chant as your eyes squeeze shut.

"Fuck, that's it, baby," He pants, his own high hitting him like a train at the sound of his name falling from your swollen lips, "Gonna cum all over these pretty tits," He mumbles, his mouth dropping open in a low moan as he paints your chest, neck, and lower face with his finish. His pace falters, abs tensing with the aftershock of his orgasm. His chest heaves as he drops his hands from your breasts, letting his softening cock slip out from its place.

You gaze up at him, eyes glazed over in euphoria. His features soften as he takes in your state. "C'mon, pretty girl, let me clean you up." He says, pulling you gently from the floor and helping you sit back against the pillows before grabbing a warm cloth. Luke carefully wipes away the evidence of both your orgasms, before joining you on the bed. His arms wrap around your body, tucking your head under his chin as he strokes your back lovingly.

"You did so good for me, angel," He soothes softly, "My perfect girl."

You smile, humming contently as you snuggle closer to his chest. However, the moment is short-lived before the sound of a door opening echos through the room.

"You guys really couldn't have at least warned me first?"

Luke's laugh rumbled through his chest as you gasped softly, "We forgot about Jack!"

[greengoblinswifey]

Symbol of Love— Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

summary— based off sofia and rafe’s cute moment in s4 ep 9 so slight spoilers. rafe is on mission to catch groff and he gives you something to treasure before he leaves.

warnings— spoilers, fluff, mentions of death.

a/n— saw the scene and immediately decided to write this, my heart is melting omg ugh that should be me and him. these new batch of episodes have been such a roller coaster, can’t wait to finish and see how everything plays out <3

Rafe’s hands were tense as walked around the sand, jaw tight as he tried to process what he’d just learned. Chandler Groff had stolen his money, and he boated off the island. You leaned against the tree, eyes wide as you tried to absorb the news. Hollis’ death had hit you harder than you let on, and whispers were circulating that JJ Maybank might have been involved. Nothing felt certain anymore, but what you did know was that Rafe had always been the one constant—until now.

“Okay, but listen,” Rafe said, his voice sharp and urgent. “Unless I catch up with Groff now, that money is long gone.”

“Where is he, Rafe?” you asked, your heart pounding. You didn’t want him to go, especially not alone, but you knew you couldn’t stop him.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, his gaze fixed somewhere past you. “I’ll track him down. I’ll get it all back.” There was a steely resolve in his voice, a familiar determination that reminded you of just how far he would go to keep what was his.

But before he could take off, he turned to you, his eyes softening just and took a deep breath. “I want to say something first.”

You opened your mouth, the confession about Hollis and everything that happened burning on your tongue. “Rafe, I- I need to tell you something too.”

Before you could finish, he startled you by dropping to one knee, pulling out a beautiful ring from his pocket. Your heart skipped a beat, and suddenly you felt like the world was spinning.

He held it up to you, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was my mom’s,” he said softly, his voice breaking just slightly. “Been in my family forever. I know it’s some kook bullshit, but I just- I wanted you to have it before I left. So you’d know this, us- we’re real.”

“Rafe, wait,” you whispered, your voice trembling. “I- I did something. It’s about Hollis. There’s more I didn’t tell you—”

He cut you off, shaking his head and cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing your skin. “Don’t. There’s things about me you don’t know. And trust me, they’re way worse than anything you could say. I don’t care what you did, and I don’t care to know.” His voice softened, but his eyes stayed intense. “I want you, and that’s all that matters to me.”

You could barely breathe, tears leaving your eyes and he slipped the ring on your finger, his eyes pleading.

You were crying now, overwhelmed by the depth of his acceptance. You could feel his hands tremble as he slid the ring onto your finger. “Say yes,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s no more pogue bullshit, okay? No more of that. I want you to quit that job and move in with me.”

The weight of his words settled over you like a promise, and you nodded, barely able to find your voice. “Yes, Rafe.”

He smiled, relief flooding his face as he pulled you into a kiss, his hands cradling your face as if you were something fragile he had to hold onto. You kissed him back, fingers curling into his jacket, your tears mixing with his warmth.

When you pulled away, he pressed a key into your palm, closing your fingers over it. “It’s to the house. I’ll be back in a few weeks. Stay there for me, okay? At my—no, our place.”

He brushed a kiss across your forehead, and whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you too.” And with one last look, he turned, walking toward his boat as you watched him go.

The salty breeze whipped around you, and you looked down at the ring, feeling a bittersweet ache settle in your chest. It was beautiful and strange, the symbol of a life you were about to share with him, a life you’d always dreamed of. You traced the ring with your thumb, marveling at its age, its history, a part of him that would stay with you even as he left.

Tears blurred your vision as he boarded the boat, but you stood there, rooted, until he was nothing but a speck on the horizon, clutching the key and the promise he’d left behind.

As you watched Rafe disappear over the horizon, a wave of fear washed over you, heavier than the ocean air around you. You knew how dangerous Groff could be, how far he was willing to go to keep what he’d stolen. And now, Rafe was chasing him down. Your heart twisted, the thought of something happening to him tugging at every corner of your mind. But then you shook yourself, forcing the doubt back. Rafe was tough, stronger than anyone you knew. He could handle himself. He’d be okay.

He’d come back.

You took a deep breath, letting the thought settle over you like a warm blanket. He’d come back, and when he did, you’d spend the rest of your lives together. There would be reward, there would be sunshine after the storm. Your love, this wild, all-consuming love, could survive anything. It had to. Everything was going to be okay.

You glanced down at the ring he’d placed on your finger, feeling its weight, its history pressing against your skin like a quiet promise. Your fingers tightened around the key in your other hand, holding onto it as if it could anchor you to this moment, to him. This key was a piece of him, a piece of your future together, the home you’d share, the life you’d build once he returned.

With one last look out at the horizon, you whispered a silent promise of your own. Then you turned back holding the ring and the key close to your heart, holding onto the hope that soon, he’d be back in your arms.

[princessbrunette]

thinking about bunny being in a slightly difficult mood, grumpy, huffing and stomping her foot around tannyhill. rafe’s trying to let her have her temper tantrum since they’re a rare occurrence. but after a few hours of her sour mood not letting up, he manhandles her rove this lap to put in her bunny plug and finger her till she cries and he’s cooing at her about how “only dad can fix that little attitude huh, bun?”

oh my god??????

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

he can handle the grumpiness, stomping around in little heels and huffing at minor inconveniences. sour moods never last too long with you, so having to deal with you isn’t exactly something that concerns him. however, he is a little surprised to learn that after a few hours — you’re carrying that same amount of aggression, manicured nails digging into your palm as you storm around with clenched fists, shrugging carelessly to whatever rafe asks you and bottom lip permanently jutted into a pout.

the final straw is when you go to pull your shirt from your dresser where it was folded, tugging a little too hard and hearing a tear. usually, this wouldn’t bother you. you knew deep down that it was no biggie to get something like that fixed, and rafe would never let you walk around with holes in your clothes — but the simple act of it happening sent you over the edge, screaming at the top of your lungs and repeatedly beating the shirt on the dresser, kicking your kitten-heeled feet against the wood of it until the heavy footsteps of your boyfriend had arrived behind you.

“the fuck is —” he cuts himself off, seeing the scene before him, taking in the dramatics before instantly doing what he knew should have done hours ago. in seemingly one quick movement, rafe yanks you by the arm out the way while opening the drawer and pulling out the clean bunny buttplug just waiting for usage. “alright, alright — alright!” he yells over your fussing until it was just broken whines and cries, the boy forcing you over his lap on the bed.

“its broken—” you go to yell once more as rafe yanks up your skirt, but he cuts you off quickly — asserting his dominance in hopes you’ll simply relax.

“lower your voice kid, won’t ask you again.” he commands sternly, and luckily you don’t bother again, sucking in short breaths and sniffling into the bedsheets as he works your panties off completely, knowing you won’t be needing them anymore.

you groan when rafe slots his hand beneath your throat and lifts your head with his grip, bending as much as he can to crane over you and hold the plug to your mouth. “c’mon. get it wet. don’t waste my time.” he taps your bottom lip and you sniffle, drooling until not only the metal was coated but his fingers were too from the run off. “shit, crazy girl.” he tsks as he leans back, touching the tip of it to your puckered hole. “you’re gonna calm the hell down. alright? once this is in you’re gonna chill out. i know you need me to fix that little attitude, okay i know. but you gotta use your words and not freak out on me. daddy can’t help you otherwise. yeah?” he talks to you as he pushes it in, feeling relief in the way your body melts on his lap, still sucking in harsh breaths but slower.

“yeah.” you repeat, knowing you had to say something but your brain was in melting mode, not capable of thinking of much else.

“alright. good. now, look at me — m’gonna ask you something n’i want an answer.” he demands, slowly helping your trembling body to stand between his legs. you clutch his white shirt in your fists, grounding yourself as your tearful eyes flicker over his face. you make a noise of acknowledgment so that he can continue. “what do you want? i— i can’t fix it for you baby ‘cos i don’t know what it is.” he flings out an arm, gesturing the shirt you left strewn on the floor. “is it that? do you want me to look at that? do you need a nap? food?” he shakes his head in exasperation, wide eyes searching yours with parted lips like he was really trying to figure you out.

you sniffle, shuffling on your feet as you stand inbetween his legs, his arm around your lower back keeping you leaning on him — and you’re not saying anything. he blinks, before speaking once more. “its dick. you want dick, huh?”

you didn’t know you did. truthfully, you’d been in a god awful mood all day, feeling like everything was going wrong — and in that moment things became just a little clearer as to why that might be. rafe hadn’t fucked you all week, you’d been out and about doing your own things — which is normal and okay in every relationship — just not in yours. you needed rafe to remind you who’s boss, because you didn’t wanna have to think anymore.

“please.” you nod, fiddling with his shirt button and the hand around your back slides down to beneath your skirt, tugging at the tail before massaging his fingers over your empty hole, feeling the way it gets sticky around him.

“hm. i should’a known.” he drawls, eyeing over you before plucking at your clothes. “gotta take this off, yeah? lemme see you.”

(⑅◞ ִ ◟⑅) · ˚ 𓈒 🎀 ྀི 🌸 ♡

[penvisions]

stages of devotion {away from the city}

Pairing: Tired Dad! Joel Miller x Experienced Camper! Reader

Summary: The neighboring campsite hosts a tired dad who seems to be ill-equipped for what he openly admits was a rather impromptu getaway with his teenage daughter. Thankfully, you keep extra supplies in your hatchback and are willing to share.

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: canon typical language, cussing, brief mention of bleeding injury, sexual tension, pining, mutual pining, fluffiness, super soft yearning, sexual content, adult content, piv, fingering, dirty talk, pet names, depraved descriptions of the male body, just a light little piece for me!

A/N: hoping this isn't as lame as it seems in my head. imposter syndrome is flaring, y'all

ao3 link || series masterlist || navigation || ko-fi

“God dammit.” A deep, gravely voice solemnly murmurs from the next site over. Slightly muffled from inside the tent the broad-shouldered man had dipped into shortly after pulling into the parking spot in a dark blue trunk. He had managed to get it pitched in a miraculously short amount of time despite the giggling and bouncing teen tangling the guy lines and rucking up the corners of the tarp underneath.

“Everything okay, dad?” The teen in question asked as she popped up from the cooler she was digging around in, a can of soda in her grip.

“…yeah, everything’s good, baby girl.” She glanced over at you with a roll of her eyes, not believing him for a second and needing someone to share in the moment. Before she could call him on the obvious lie, a loud hissing sound ruffled the side of the tent, billowing it out in a rather funny way.

Trying to keep your laughter low to avoid attention, you got up from your spot tending to the flames of your fire, foiled single use pan over the grill plate of the pit. A casserole you had parbaked last night in preparation for today. It was a broccoli cheddar one, the noodles and chicken beginning to season the air along with the crackling pine offered for visitors at the general store at the entrance to the park. The trunk of your SUV was silent as you lifted it and scanned the supplies you had stocked up in the space.

The spare air mattress you kept was on the smaller side, but it didn’t hurt to offer it to the little father and daughter duo. You pulled the fabric of your hiking shorts down a little, to cover up the bandage over a cut you had gotten earlier that afternoon on a hike before gripping the box and walked over to the edge of your site.

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Uh, give me sec!”

“Sir?” You walked over the invisible line between yours and theirs, aware of the girl now fiddling with a small MP3 player, wired earbuds already popped into her ears beneath a mane of kinky hair pulled back into low buns at the back of her head. “I’ve got an extra mattress if yours has holes in it.”

“Huh?” His head appears in the opening of the tent, dark curls tousled and slightly damp with sweat. His brown eyes were wide, his plush lips parted underneath a thick moustache. He was on his knees, prompting you to look down as you approached the tent. He looked up at you through his hooded eyes and you swore your heart jumped in your chest. He had crows’ feet at the edges of them, those and the deep wrinkle in his brow adding to his appeal.

“This is my spare, you’re more than welcome to borrow it.”

His eyes flicked behind you, gauging where his daughter was and why he hadn’t heard an interaction from her before you appeared before him with a gift in your hand and kind words on your lips. She knew how to hold her own, but he still worried for her because the world could be cruel. Her music was a low hum even from here, telling him she was gone from his world for the meantime, social battery probably low or even just a bit bored with him out here in the middle of the state park while he set things up.

“Uh, thanks. Who’re-“

“I’m from just over there,” You lean back a little to wave to the left. He had seen the hatchback parked there all day but hadn’t seen the camper until just now. You must’ve snuck back into the grounds from a mid-morning hike that begins off the campgrounds or a nap you were possibly taking in your rather clean tent. He felt self-conscious at the way he was looking up at you with wide eyes, the dirt and dust that coated everything from his cooler to his own truck to the tent he was currently kneeling in. The trip was last minute, but it just reminds him of how much better he needs to be about upkeep in his own home and garage. The truck he could get away with, but he didn’t want to bring his work home with him more than he already did. “We’re campsite neighbors.”

“Mighty nice of ya, think mine has a leak somewhere.” The admittance is easy from his lips, shocking you in its honesty. The last time you had tried to offer similar help, you had been shot down and denied a chance. Told you didn’t know what you were talking about and that the person who had been having trouble knew more than you did, that you should mind your own business. Shaking the bad memory and relationship from your mind, you offer a polite smile and lean over a little to peer into the space around the man eclipsing the entrance.

“Mind if I take a look?” You set down the rather hefty box containing the spare bed and lean down to unhinge the ankle strap on your campsite sandals. It may be a little forward of you, but he seemed willing to discuss the issue, and you wanted to help any way you could. When he doesn’t protest, still gazing up at you with that doe eyed expression, you step into the rather dusty interior. The mattress is in the center of the back wall, the foot end of it facing toward your campsite. You crouch down to inspect the area around the boston valve. Just as you reached out a hand to feel around the base of it, you felt heat at your right side.

“’s over on the other side, I think.” The man’s voice was close, the baritone of it vibrating through you as you turned your own curious expression over to him. He seems to have composed himself, as he shuffles close to you, nearly pressing his broad chest into your side to motion to the left side of bed. The near contact makes you jolt, the way he had almost unconsciously fallen into your personal space. Not having been so close to anyone in recent memory makes the moment into more than it is on the surface, and you try not to let it get to your head. Just a friendly interaction, that’s all.

“Apologies,” He’s moving away just as suddenly as he had appeared beside you, leaving your heart racing in your chest so loud you hope he can’t hear it within the confines of the nylon enclosure. You can’t tell with the bright afternoon sunlight, if there’s a tinge to the tops of his ears and the back of his neck. But you’re pretty sure if there is one it’s because of his embarrassment of the thoughtless act and nothing more. A simple accident of invading a stranger’s space and nothing more.

He’s just a stranger who needed a bit of help, nothing more. Tamping down the runaway thoughts of the man and how calming his presence is even with just a few moments of interacting with him, you focus on the task at hand.

After a few moments of fiddling with the valve and ensuring its secure, you have him press down the palms of his hands on the top of the mattress as you scoot it out to feel where the air is leaking from.

There’s a slit in the groove that helps to support the weight of whoever lays atop it, barely visible.

“Ah, yeah. It’s here.” You switch places with him and he sees what you’re talking about.

“Shit,” He’s rubbing a hand over the dark scruff on his chin, dragged down the column of his neck as he realizes it’s not even a hole but a tear. A mighty long one that he’s incapable of fixing out here with no duct tape or putty.

“No worries, you can use the spare I brought over.” Standing up, you clap your hands to rid them of the dust that you had gathered on them. Doing the same with your knees, you glance around the space and realize how small it is. “Is this the only tent you brought?”

“No, uh, Sarah – my girl out there,” Joel is hunched over, the inside of the tent not tall enough for him to stand at his full height, he’s following your form as you exit, taking the offered box that contains the solution to his current problem. “This one’s hers. Gotta get mine set up. Was just gonna give her mine if hers was damaged. Saved me the pain of sleeping on the ground.”

“I’ve got a small handheld vacuum, if you want to get the dust cleared up for her.” You offer with a slight smile, the small worry of overstepping making you self-conscious. “Just…if you want to.”

He pauses as he places the box beside the slowly deflating bed he had tried to set up. His eyes catch yours and you see something flash in them.

“’m not normally this unprepared, but she was…well, she was havin’ a bad week so we packed up after school and just hit the road.”

“Hey, no worries at all! I totally get needing to get away sometimes. That’s why I have enough to offer you my spare. Keep a bit in the car, a bit in the garage. Kinda ready to go whenever I feel the need.”

“It’s much appreciated.” His own lips twist up and you feel butterflies between your ribs. He’s effortlessly handsome, his chocolate curls mused and his face showing the years he’s spent raising his daughter and no doubt working hard to do it.

“I’ll just go grab that real quick then, leave you to finish setting up.” You crook your elbow and point back to your own campsite, but your feet stick to the ground when you see Joel crouched back down on the ground in his simple tee and jeans. His biceps flex with the way he begins to roll the remaining air out of the no-good mattress, catching your attention like a cat to a sunbeam.

“You’re an angel, can’t believe we lucked out with such a cool neighbor.” Joel chuckles to himself as he works, unaware of your watching gaze. “Last time we had this older couple that didn’t believe she was mine. Kept asking if she was okay or needed any help.”

“S-Sounds like a nightmare.” The lump that appears in your throat sticks even after you attempt to swallow it down. You couldn’t imagine the stress that caused, even if just fleetingly. They were obviously bonded, their easy temperance with each other speaking volumes for those around.

“Much better this time around, despite the faulty mattress.” He looks up once it’s rolled up and secured with velcro ties. His smile is brighter, reaching his eyes in a way that makes them sparkle. “Name’s Joel, and the tone-deaf teenager out there is Sarah.”

You look over your shoulder at the dancing, twirling teenager. She’s still got her music playing a touch too loud, her lips mouthing along to most of the words. Some of them she sings aloud, and it’s…it is rather tone-deaf. But it brings a smile to your face all the same, she’s allowed to feel like she can be herself around her father. That’s an impressive feat, that they seem so close with no underlying awkwardness or feelings of insecurity.

Turning back to him, you offer your own introduction.  

The sounds of Joel finishing setting up his campsite fill the air but aren’t bothersome. Just a part of the afternoon that grows into the evening. Others showing up as well, the sound of rubber mallets securing tent spikes in the soft ground, of vinyl and tarp being stretched out and shifted into place, of grills being filled with charcoal and the sizzling of food as it hits the hot grates. Laughter and soft conversations float through the air amid the gentle breeze and you sigh as you sit down at your table with a bowl of the casserole that had finished cooking.

The peaceful reverie is enhanced by the infectious giggling of Sarah, the teenage girl just over the invisible line between the campsites. Joel’s own carefree laughter making your chest feel light. They’ve got their stuff all set up, the propane grill Joel brought working hard as he cooks what looks like too much food for just the two of them. But they both load their plates up and settled at their picnic table with freshly opened drinks from the cooler.

You feel the look before it registers, so caught up in the book gripped between your hands. It’s been on your list for far too long, a few pages read here and there throughout your hectic day, before bed as you try to wind down but end up passing out with it flattened on your chest. But now, the reading seems to be disrupted in the form of Joel. He’s at the edge of your space, calling out your name.

An offer for food if you wanted some, that there was a little bit of everything and plenty of it if you cared to join them. With no thought for the passage you had just been immersed in, you close the book and leave it in the seat of your camp chair. The vinyl hushes with the wight of the paper but you pay it no mind as you ask after what all he’s got and pick up a fresh beer from your cooler.

Easy conversation flowed and soon your laughter rung in the air alongside theirs.

Sarah had gone to bed after a bit of gentle prodding from Joel. Her head had bobbed a few times, trying her hardest to stay up despite her fluttering eyes and deep breaths as she sat in front of the dwindling fire alongside you both.

They hadn’t been able to get one going in their own pit, too much debris left behind from the previous inhabitants. So yours had been stoked and kept alive for hours now as night fell. Their chairs had been effortlessly moved beside yours, surrounding the once roaring warmth, something you hadn’t minded in the slightest. He’s walking back up to now, hands in his pockets and a flannel added over his tee. He looks so cozy, so at home now that he’s gotten settled.

He sighs heavily as he plops back down in the chair beside your own, scooting it closer now that you’re alone. You can smell the lingering scent of his cologne on the new addition of clothing and it has you unconsciously leaning into his space.

“Mm, you smell good.”

“Thanks, darlin’. You smell mighty good yourself.” He’s smirking when your eyes snap up at the realization that you just said that out loud.

“Oh my god, I am so sorry. I didn’t-“

“’s okay. But I’ve been wonderin’ something.” His tone tilts, pitches low as he regards the fire that’s more smoldering ashes than flames in the pit. The shadows cast over his profile take your breath away, make your heart ache for how beautiful he is. He’s a good man, if your evening together was anything to go by.

A devoted father, a caring family man, a capable man who worked himself perhaps too much sometimes.

“Y-yeah?” You feel the air shift, something sparking between you two now that you’re alone. You wonder if he’s about to tell you his wife is back home waiting for their return, if he’s going to ask you why you keep stealing ogling glances his way. If he’s going to reveal to you that he’s onto you and doesn’t like the attention. But his question is exactly what you wanted to hear, because you have the exact same one for him.

“You got anyone waitin’ for you back home?” Joel’s voice is even, despite the way one of his hands is tapping away at the armrest of his chair. The empty beer in his mesh cupholder sweating and the label is peeled off. It’s endearing to see his quirks, the man rather enticing despite only knowing him for a few hours. Your heart skipped a beat, butterflies tickling your insides as you realized he may be as attracted to you as you are to him. Unless he was just making polite conversation now that it was just the two of you…

“Like a boyfriend?” You dare to ask, seeking clarification. Feeling the slight charge in the air is making you a little dizzy, the looks you had caught him giving you when you were busy helping Sarah with her smores only making you feel even more so as you recall the way his eyes had shown in the amber firelight. You lean toward him, finding that he had done the same. There are only a few inches between you now, elbows crooked and bodies curved toward each other. You try to disguise your surprise, but you’re sure he can see in as his lips quick up on one side.

“Like a boyfriend.” His breath is so warm as it puffs against your lips. He’s so, impossibly close and it wouldn’t take but a tilt of your head to close the gap.

“Oh.” Your eyes search between his own, looking for something behind them. Finding no ill intent, no underlying darkness. There’s only hope flickering there, shielding the loneliness you can sense in him, the same that you mask in your own life. You feel your lips pull up into a teasing smile as you glance down at his plush lips. “No.”

“Good.” And he’s closing the gap. Hands coming up to cradle your face and nose brushing against yours as his lips capture yours.

The next morning, you’re packing up the remainder of your stuff as quietly as possible. The sun has yet to rise, the sky barely beginning to lighten on the horizon. Joel is snoring just loudly enough that you can pick up the sound coming from inside his tent. You don’t want to bother him, seeing as he’s resting after a rather long night. You feel the ghost of his lips against yours, the way they had dragged down your throat, your collarbone, lower still beneath your shoved off flannel and rucked up tank top.

“Don’t normally do this kinda thing.” He groaned into your skin as his exploring fingers undid the small tie at the front of your shorts. The thickness of them as they hooked in the waistband and pulled made you dizzy, made your body clench around nothing at the heady thought of them delving lower.

“What? Make out with strangers?” You huff a giddy laugh that turns into a choked whimper as his knuckles graze between your legs, feeling the dampness there. He presses close, and you feel the pressure of his hand against your swollen lips, can feel the way he slowly parts them with gentle movements. Fingertips find your sensitive bud and your body glitters, eyes fluttering shut.

“Make out with anyone. Been so focused on other stuff.”

“Focus on me then, just for now.” You whisper as you reach for him, guiding his face back up to yours and kissing him deeply. He swallows the moan that bursts from your chest as his fingers find your fluttering entrance. He’s knuckle deep and crooking them before you can catch your breath. It hitches, leaves you and causes you to break away from him when they nudge a spot just right, lighting up your body in a way it hadn’t been in ages.

“That’s the spot, huh darlin’?” He thrusts his fingers in a slow, deep rhythm. Feeling your soft walls clench around him, the jolt to your body and the arching of your back telling him he’s found exactly the right spot. “C’mon, you feel so damn good. Lemme see how pretty you are.”

Through a heavy-lidded gaze, you see him hovering above you. His outline stark in the glow of the string lights strung up around your campsite. His brown eyes are glittering and blown wide, his lips are parted and panting for breath, chest dusted with the same dark hair atop his head. When had he even taken his shirt off? It doesn’t matter, you lose the thought as your hands begin to explore his chest. Nails raking lightly down his pecs and toward the softness of his belly. Belt unbuckled and pants undone, but still secure around his waist.

Heat encompasses you, your body alight as he beckons you closer and closer to the edge. You fall with a cry of his name when he leans down to nip at your breast, nipple taut between his teeth. He guides you through it, fingers dragging it out before he gently removes them from your fluttering core and twitching clit.

“That’s a pretty sight indeed, darlin’.” He kisses your temple, your cheeks, your forehead. A grunt of surprise falls from him when you surge up and wrap your arms around his neck and use your feet to push his jeans off. His rumbling laughter fills the dark space as he quickly pushes them off all the way and kicks them off the bed. “Gonna let me have you, sweet girl, gonna let me feel you come on my cock?”

“Fuck, Joel, yes, please.” You rut against him as his erection bobs up toward his stomach, needing more, needing to feel him. This safe, beautiful stranger you hadn’t known existed until today. He was intoxicating. The hot, long line of him hard where you grind against the underside of him. He groans a deep, guttural sound at the feeling, the slick of your swollen lips and the beads of precum falling from his tip making for such an easy glide.

His hand snakes down to guide himself a little lower, eliciting a cry from you when his head rubs roughly over your clit.

“Shh, shh, gotta be quiet now, don’t wanna wake the whole campground, do we?” He’s watching your face twist in pleasure, the way your bottom lip plumps between teeth as you try to quiet yourself. He tries to muffle his own loud moan when he finally pushes in. Everything stills for the barest of moments, eyes meeting and breath hitching. Before he’s snapping his hips against yours, bending over you to lift a leg over his shoulder and his teeth grit as he tries to keep his sounds restrained.

You’re lost to the feeling of his body moving against yours, moving inside yours. He’s filling you so deeply, hitting that spot you didn’t believe any guy could find and it’s making your vision sparkle bright white.’

Your face heats as you recall the way he had desperately asked ‘where’ in that gravely twang of his. The feeling of him still filling you, dampening your underwear as he dribbled out a little bit at a time. It had been rather risky a move, but the pills you took everyday would help prevent any…mishaps with the handsome man you hadn’t expected to meet on your own impromptu excursion from the city.

Austin.

He was from there too and something compelled you to write your name and number on a blank page of your small notepad. A little note saying to call you for a coffee sometime because it had been nice to talk to him and his daughter. You left the remainder of the casserole in the tin and secured the crumpled foil over it before cautiously lifting the lid to their large cooler. Thankfully there was space for the extra food, they would need it with their additional night in the park.

But you needed to go, real life responsibilities calling your name back from the slice of reprieve you had sought out.

Picking up the packed tent, the handles rough in your hand like Joel’s calloused palms, you looked the campsite over one last time. Everything was packed now, the city beckoning you back though this camping trip had provided you with something you hadn’t had a taste of in a long time.

Hope.

next part

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[vanteguccir]

── ୨୧ !　𝗟𝗘𝗙𝗧 𝗔𝗟𝗢𝗡𝗘

　　　　　　　　　𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒐𝒍𝒐 x reader

SUMMARY: Where, after a difficult week, Matt takes out all his stress on Y/N, causing great damage to their relationship.

WARNING: Fighting, yelling, cursing, dark thoughts. ANGST!

REQUESTED?: Yes, by anons and @ivoncheetooo1239

AUTHOR'S NOTE: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.

Part 2

　　　༻✦༺ 　༻✧༺　༻✦༺

"I don't know where you want to get with that, Matt." Y/N sighed, closing her eyes tightly for a few minutes before opening them again, keeping them fixed on the road in front of the car. She had her head resting on her right hand, and her elbow braced next to the passenger door window.

Matt, as usual, had gone to pick up Y/N from work after her shift, but he was surprised to have to wait for an hour in the car for his girlfriend to finally be released, as her boss had demanded that she had to work overtime.

Despite being wrong, Matt felt furious.

His week was more than hectic with the start of sales of the 6 million clothing collection, as he and his brothers had to spend hours autographing photos of themselves that would go with each order. In addition to - by Nick and Chris's choice -, the three of them were the ones who hand-packed the first ones, which resulted in Matt having to stay awake until late hours, and waking up early everyday to fulfill his other tasks.

With all that, having to sit in his car for an hour, with only his phone and in such an uncomfortable seat seemed to increase his irritation, and he couldn't help but start an argument with his girlfriend, feeling like a pressure cooker about to explode.

"I'm just saying that you don't stop at home anymore. You just work all day, as if it was your number one priority in life. And now you've started this nonsense of working overtime!" Matt accused, gesturing exaggeratedly with his right hand while keeping his left one on the steering wheel.

"It's not like I asked to work overtime, Matt! You and your brothers have worked in a grocery store once, you know how it works-"

"Don't you dare bring up Chris and Nick's name. They have nothing to do with your lack of responsibility within a relationship." The boy took his eyes off the road momentarily, giving her a cold look that sent shivers running up her spine.

"Matt, you're being ridiculous! I understand your week has been tiring-" Matt cut the girl off again, shaking his head nervously.

"No, you don't know nothing, Y/N!" His tone was arrogant, a tone that the girl didn't remember ever hearing from him. "I'm exhausted because of my own work, and I still have to come and pick you up every day! And now you make me stay stuck in this car for an hour, waiting for Miss Perfect here to decide to leave." His voice gradually increased in volume.

Y/N could already feel the sensations of the ugly crying that was about to come, taking a deep breath and counting to 10 in her head.

"Then don't pick me up anymore, Matt! You were willing to come every day after my work just until some days ago, but if it's so hard for you now, don't come anymore." Y/N replied, her tone lower than her boyfriend's but still carrying much stress.

"How can you be so ungrateful?" Matt shouted, slamming his hands against the steering wheel violently.

"Matt, look, I'm sorry- Hey, keep your eyes on the road!" Y/N ignored the pang she felt in her heart at the brunette's words, fear rising through her veins as she saw the car move further away from the main road, as a result of his lack of attention.

Her eyes were wide as she raised her hands, ready to grab the steering wheel if necessary.

"You know what? I'm done." Matt spoke through gritted teeth, turning the car sharply to the right until it stopped on the side of the road.

"What are you doing? Matt?" Y/N asked, her breath coming out shakily as her eyes traveled down the dark, deserted street, to her boyfriend's face, which seemed to be covered in a gray cloud of hate.

"I'm done with this. If you don't want to take responsibility for your own mistakes and don't understand the seriousness of this relationship like I do, then maybe it's not worth the effort." He unlocked the doors, crossing his arms and keeping his eyes fixed on the road ahead, his nostrils flaring as a result of his hard breathing.

"M-Matt, don't do that." The girl tried, swallowing hard.

She reached out her hand towards him with the intention of gently touching his arm, but Matt pulling away roughly, as if she were a plague, made her stop abruptly for a few seconds, her hand slowly lowering.

“I need to think, Y/N.” He shook his head, resting his elbows on the steering wheel and laying his head in his hands, closing his eyes tightly. "Get out." He demanded sharply.

Y/N's eyes widened, her heart stopping momentarily.

"W-what? Are you crazy? Look at the time, Matt. How am I going to-"

"Get out." Matt interrupted her, not once looking up. His tone was flat and cold.

Y/N looked at him for a few more seconds, as if waiting for him to apologize and say it was all a sick joke. But that never happened.

She quickly pulled the car handle, grabbing her purse and getting out of the passenger seat. The cold night air hit her body with force as if needles were piercing her skin, eliciting a strong shiver from her members.

Her hand pushed the door hard, closing it, the sound echoing like a dull thud. Her eyes watched the car restart not even a second later, screeching away.

Y/N remained still for a few seconds - or minutes -, watching Matt's car disappear into the distance, her hope of him turning around slowly disappearing.

"Come back." Her voice sounded so broken, just like her insides. "P-please."

She spun around, taking note of the street completely deserted of cars or humans, the only source of life being the streetlights.

The girl quickly hooked her purse onto her right shoulder, crossing her arms tightly around her torso and beginning the steps of the long walk she would have to take to get home - if she even could call that place her home anymore. The possibility of Matt kicking her out after the events made her legs tremble.

Her throat started to hurt from the crying that she was still holding back. The emotions rising in her chest were like bile in her throat; It burned and hurt like never before. Her heart felt like it was being crushed by a human hand, and it didn't take long for loud sobs to escape her lips, her eyes stinging from the hot tears in contact with the freezing wind.

It was minutes of walking without stopping, her feet ached from the tension in her body, a result of the intense cold and the several times she turned back, checking if she wasn't being followed.

The familiar street soon took over her blurred vision, a sigh of relief escaping her lips. Thick tears were still rolling from her eyes, but her sobs had stopped, being replaced by small sniffles.

Y/N shuffled down the sidewalk, passing the houses neighboring hers, before finally stopping in front of her front door. Her hands, practically frozen by the cold, opened her purse in a quick movement, rummaging through the smaller pockets, looking for the key.

She closed her eyes tightly when she couldn't find it, vaguely remembering just throwing it in the glove compartment of Matt's car that morning since she was in such a rush and still eating her breakfast.

Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as she fished out her phone, cursing under her breath when she noticed that the battery was almost all gone. Just her lucky day.

She quickly unlocked the screen, going into her contact list and clicking on Chris's one. The boy answered on the second ring, surprising Y/N.

"Y/N? Thank God, where are you guys?" Chris's voice sounded relieved. Y/N frowned, her mind creating thousands of horrible scenarios as to why Matt hadn't gotten home yet.

The path she took, which took her almost 30 minutes of walking - or more, since she was walking slowly due to the cold - would not even take 15 minutes by car.

"C-Chris, open the door for me. Please." Her voice was broken, her teeth chattering as her body felt the temperature drop even more now that she stood still.

"Are you out there? Alone?" He asked exasperatedly. The sound of his bed shuffling sounded from behind, probably the result of him getting up.

"Yeah... Just hurry, please." Y/N repeated, her tone completely vulnerable.

The line went dead at the same instant. Her right hand - which was holding the device - moved away from her ear quickly, her eyes only finding the negative battery icon.

She threw her phone into her purse again, her eyes prickling with new tears that wanted to flow. Her mind created terrible thoughts about herself and her day, and all she wanted most was to sleep and perhaps never wake up again.

The sound of keys sounded on the other side of the door seconds before it was abruptly opened. Chris's figure appeared, his wide eyes carrying immense concern as they roamed Y/N's body, seeming to search for any injuries.

"Oh my God, you're freezing." He confirmed when he noticed her shaking, gently pulling her inside, before closing the door again. He rubbed his hands over Y/N's arms, which, even though they were covered by the fluffy jacket, were still extremely cold.

The warm air from the heater inside the house welcomed the girl's body gracefully, surrounding her like a thin blanket. She sighed, closing her eyes momentarily.

"Where the hell is Matt? I thought he was going to pick you up." Chris asked exasperatedly, helping her take her purse off her shoulder, hanging it on the rack next to the door.

Y/N felt her eyes fill with tears again at the mention of her boyfriend's name. An ugly sound of choked sobs escaping her throat caught Chris's attention, who stopped his movements and turned his eyes to her.

"Oh no, what did he do?" His tone was gentle as he approached, pulling her into a tight hug as he watched her shake her head in denial repeatedly, her lips trembling. "Let's go to my room, you need a hot shower and fresh clothes."

Chris slowly stepped away, keeping one of his hands on Y/N's shoulders, guiding her through the kitchen and down the stairs towards his own room.

The door was already open - being left like that when the boy rushed after receiving her call -, the two of them just passing through it before Chris closed it, keeping the hot air trapped between the four walls.

"Go take a shower, I'll get you some new clothes from your closet, okay? There's a clean towel in the cabinet under the sink." The boy indicated, watching his sister-in-law nod weakly, a low "thank you" escaping her lips before she could enter the bathroom, closing the door behind her.

It didn't take long for Y/N to step out again, already dressed in the Fresh Love sweatshirt set that Chris placed on the sink - just by putting his arm between the door and the frame.

Even though she wanted to melt like hot water and go down the drain just like her tears that fell imperceptibly, her feet hurt too much to support her weight for even another minute, begging for a rest.

Chris was sitting on the right side of the bed, his back against the headboard and his legs above the duvet, absentmindedly scrolling through his phone, seeming to be waiting for her.

The sound of the bathroom door closing attracted his attention, and he quickly locked his cell, putting it on the bedside table before tapping the empty space next to him, silently calling Y/N to sit there.

The girl walked to the indicated side, lifting the duvet and sitting on the mattress, staying in the same position as Chris, but with her legs covered.

"Do you want to talk about what happened?" He asked calmly, watching her closely, trying to read her expressions, but seeing only an ocean of pain in every line of her face and eyes.

"Matt left me in the middle of the road." She swallowed hard, shaking her head while closing her eyes tightly. "We had a fight. My boss demanded from me to work overtime and I forgot to tell Matt, so he ended up waiting for me for an hour in his car. He was tired from the day and the week, and I think the stress built up on both our sides, and he just started yelling at me." Y/N shrugged, sniffing momentarily, trying to hold back her tears.

"Wait, he left you in the middle of the road, alone and in the cold? To come home walking?" Chris's eyes widened, a look of disbelief occupying his blue orbs as he tried to process the information.

"Yeah." The girl's voice sounded low and vulnerable, her head lowering and her eyes focusing on her hands above the duvet, feeling embarrassed by her boyfriend's actions. "I tried to intervene at some point, but he was so mad." She took a deep breath, biting her bottom lip hard, the pain almost numb next to the one she felt in her heart. "I don't know what I did wrong, Chris." Her voice broke, a dry sob escaping her throat.

"I'm so sorry for my brother's actions, Y/N." Chris sighed, shaking his head in disbelief. "I promise you did absolutely nothing wrong. Don't let those thoughts get the best of you."

"I just... Maybe I'm not really giving our relationship enough credit. Or maybe I'm not enough to fit into Matt's life patterns and busy days." She douted, playing with her fingers as a nervous act.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep? I imagine how tired you are and it's late. We can talk about this tomorrow, but try to clean your mind for now, okay?" He suggested.

Chris helped her lay down after receiving a nod of agreement, adjusting the duvet over her body. The girl moved her head, laying it on his left thigh, seeking comfort. He quickly put his hand on her hair, stroking the area calmly, lulling her into sleep.

After making sure she was already dreaming, the boy moved her slowly - so as not to wake her -, laying her completely on the mattress before getting up. He sat down in his gaming chair, crossing his legs on the seat.

Chris closed his eyes tightly, massaging his temples, trying to reduce the tension there. His eyes remained on Y/N's figure, caring for her sleep like a worried older brother, longing to have the power to erase the entire event from the girl's memory.

Matt would hear from him when he arrived.

taglist:

@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @iammattswife

(If you want to be added to the taglist, go to this post)

[felinecyan]

Wide Awake

[Shoto Todoroki x Female!Reader]

Synopsis: When you take the couch due to your inability to sleep, unfortunately, you get the scare of your life.

WC: 1737

Category: Fluff, Slight Comfort

Finally finished the fic 😴 I apologize it took me so long 🙏

『••✎••』

You couldn’t remember when you found your eyes closing or when you had dozed off. With your favorite blanket and pillow in hand, you had moved to the sofa down in the common room from your room and set up camp for the night. You couldn’t remember why, either. All you knew was that you were exhausted, and it was easier to fall asleep downstairs without the light that poured in through the hallway.

As you laid on the couch, you found yourself somewhere between being asleep and awake. The world was quiet. It was late. And everyone had long since gone to sleep for the night. Even Kaminari, who had a hard time winding down after dark, had passed out before you. The silence was peaceful and the darkness was calming. The world seemed frozen and at ease.

Your mind was, too, finally, after racing all day. A million different thoughts had been bouncing around in your head like a ping-pong ball. They had been loud, distracting, and almost made you feel sick. But they had quieted now. You could barely even remember what you had been thinking about. Your body was heavy, relaxed, and finally, ready to drift off into a deep sleep.

So you did. You fell back asleep as your body relaxed.

But then, an odd feeling washed over you. A chill ran up your spine. Goosebumps prickled over your arms. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up. Your heart rate picked up slightly.

Something was wrong.

Your eyes cracked open slowly, and you blinked as you peered around the dark common room. No one was there—at least, not that you could see. Your heart was beating a bit faster. What was going on? Was it just the exhaustion that was making you anxious?

It was probably just the exhaustion, you decided. After all, the world was quiet. Everyone was sleeping. There was no reason for you to be on edge. You were just tired. That had to be it.

Closing your eyes again, you rolled over to face the back of the sofa. But as you did, the feeling only grew stronger. Your heart was pounding against your ribs.

Something was definitely wrong.

This time, when your eyes opened, they stayed open. Not because sleep had left you but because a set of mismatched eyes had suddenly appeared right in front of your own. You screamed at the sudden intrusion and shot backward, but you didn't get far. You had forgotten that the arm of the sofa was behind you. So, instead, you simply fell back against it with a gasp and scrambled back to where you had been, clutching your chest and breathing heavily.

For a moment, nothing happened. Your wide eyes remained locked with those mismatched ones, staring at you with nothing more than curiosity. A single brow rose. A moment passed, and then another. But then, those eyes broke from yours. A voice sounded low and soft.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to startle you."

You nearly choked. "S-Shoto?! Wha… What the hell are you doing?! Why are you staring at me while I sleep?!" You had recognized the boy's voice almost immediately, even with how soft and hushed it was. It wasn't hard to do. He wasn't exactly the most talkative person.

Your eyes were finally adjusting to the darkness, and you could make out the bowl of soba and the steaming cup of tea in both his hands.

"Contemplating if I should’ve woken you or not," he answered as he stood. "I almost sat on you."

You could only stare at him as he placed the tea and noodles on the coffee table next to your book. The panic and adrenaline were starting to wear off, and your heartbeat was beginning to slow. "What are you even doing up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Decided to eat."

"You couldn't sleep, so you’re eating soba at… What time is it, anyway?"

"A quarter past 3."

Your jaw dropped. "A quarter pa—" You were cut off by a yawn, which forced your jaw shut again. Shaking your head, you ran a hand over your face and looked up at him. "Well, are you done?"

Shoto's brow rose again, confused. "With the soba?"

"What…? No." The amount of sass in your voice was a testament to how exhausted you really were. "With sleep. Attempting to, at least."

The boy shrugged. "Not really. I usually don't fall asleep until after 4. Why? Are you going back to sleep?"

You gave a sigh. "Well, yeah. I was trying to."

"Should’ve tried your actual bed then." He took a sip of his tea, eyeing you as he did. "I’m surprised Tokoyami didn't wake you."

You blinked. "Tokoyami?"

Shoto nodded. "He’s always reading in the dark down here. I don’t think he’s slept since the Liberation War. Hawks’ injuries must’ve really hit him hard."

That was right… you remembered seeing him more and more often downstairs as the days had passed. It was rare to ever see him upstairs anymore. It was just something you had gotten used to. "I should probably check on him."

"Probably."

Another yawn pulled at your lips, and you couldn't help but smile a little. "If he's up, can I get some of that tea?"

"If you want." Shoto turned to sip his tea again, eyes drifting from yours. But when he turned back to look at you, his eyes were wide, and his expression was filled with disbelief. "Wait, you fell asleep here?"

You were already snuggled back up under your blankets. "Uh, yeah? Did you already forget why I screamed in your face?"

He paused, his face unreadable. "I don’t remember you being an insomniac. Are you unwell? Shall I bring some medicine for you?"

"What? No, I'm not sick."

"It’s rare for someone who is well to sleep on the couch."

You sighed. "You just said you don’t go to sleep until later."

"But you don’t come down here at all."

"Because it's not normal for people to hang out downstairs at this time!"

"Tokoyami does."

"Yeah, and you said that's because you told—" You were interrupted by a yawn and shook your head. "Never mind. You're impossible."

"Me? Impossible?" Shoto's brow rose yet again, and he almost sounded amused. "You're the one who's choosing the sofa over your bed."

"I didn't choose the sofa; it chose me."

"Is it a sentient being?"

Sometimes, you couldn’t tell if he was serious or not.

"No, Sho. I just— I couldn’t sleep in my room. And I don’t know why." You sighed and rubbed your temples, the frustration from earlier that day beginning to resurface. "There was a lot on my mind, and I couldn’t shut it off, but it was fine. And then I fell asleep, and I felt better, but then I woke up and—"

"And what?"

You shrugged. "I don't know. I don’t think I can go back to my room tonight."

The two of you fell silent, his mismatched eyes peering into yours. There was something about the way he looked at you. It wasn’t a glare or a scowl, but it wasn’t a smile or a smirk either. It was just him watching you.

Then again, that’s all he ever did. He didn't say much. He didn't smile often. He was quiet. But, if you were being honest, that was probably what you liked about him. He didn't judge. He just listened.

Finally, he spoke. "I know the feeling…" His voice was soft, his gaze distant. "I used to sleep on the floor because I thought I didn’t deserve a bed. I grew out of that, but every now and then, the thought still comes back."

You blinked. "Really?"

"Yeah," Shoto responded. "But my room isn't really home. The dorm is. This is. So when I feel like that, I come down here."

"…Is that why you’re down here now?"

"No. I just wanted soba."

His bluntness made you laugh. You shook your head and smiled. "I forgot you're always hungry."

"Not always."

"Always. It's 3 AM, Sho."

"Yes, and?"

"And? You don't think it's a little weird to eat soba at 3 AM?"

"Weird? You were sleeping down here. That's weirder."

"Hey! I—!" You were cut off by yet another yawn, and you could only look at him as it faded away. "I can't argue right now."

"I'll win anyway," Shoto stated matter-of-factly. "Go back to sleep."

"You can't just tell me to go back to sleep. It's not that easy."

"Sure it is. Close your eyes. Count sheep. Pretend you're dying. Anything works."

"Roki, that's the worst advice I've ever heard."

"And yet, it's still better than any advice Kaminari or Sero would give."

Damn. Tired or not, he still kept it real.

"I’ll wake you up before Aizawa gets here."

"He checks on us? Since when?"

He shrugged. "Certain days. Since that time when Midoriya and Bakugo snuck out to fight, he likes to make sure no one else is trying to do that."

"Oh. He wouldn’t be mad, though, if I was just down here."

"Him being concerned is worse than him being mad."

"I don’t think that’s…" You were cut off by another yawn, and when you opened your eyes, you saw him staring at you. His expression was blank, but his gaze was intense. "Okay, okay. Fine. I'll try. Just don’t watch me sleep again, or I will throw a pillow at your face."

"I wasn’t— okay."

"Okay, you will stop?"

"Okay."

"Good."

You laid back down and rolled over, facing the back of the couch again. You could hear Shoto shuffle a bit and the clink of his chopsticks, but everything was quiet once again. Closing your eyes, you pulled the blanket closer to you. You had to admit, you were a bit more at ease than before.

"If it helps," Shoto's voice suddenly said, "Goodnight."

A smile tugged at your lips, and you shook your head. "Night, Roki."

As you drifted off to sleep, finally, without any worries or intruding thoughts, your smile didn't leave your face. You had expected it to, and yet it didn't.

Aizawa also never came to check on you or the students. You realized this because Ochaco was waking you up in a panic, yelling something about being late for class.

It was a chaotic morning, but at least you were well-rested.

[lizkreates]

Bone Deep

My full submission for @vashwood-anthology! I initially wanted to go the symbolic route but was like screw it, and went full on angel and demon mode because why not?

Redesigning their looks was so much fun! More art to come. I mashed the lore from all the Triguns and shook it around, enjoy.

(Script under the cut.)

PAGE 1

PANEL 1 Suspended in a tank is Vash's amputated left arm. Tiny wings sway in the fluid among the nodes and wires connected to it. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): Before I even knew who you were

PANEL 2 Close up of the serum distilled in syringes connected to Wolfwood's arm who's strapped to the cross-shaped lab table. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): … you became part of me.

PANEL 3 Extreme close up of Wolfwood's eye in pain. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): I never wanted this …

PANEL 4 Big panel! Full-body shot of Wolfwood with a mix of angel and demon features, the demon ones more prominent. He sits up, hunched over, covering half his face. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): … to be reborn this way.

PANEL 5 Silhouette of Wolfwood signing a contract in red ink. The red glinting off his glasses. Hopeland Orphanage abstracted in the background, looms over him. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): Did I have a choice to survive? To protect the little bit of happiness that I cared for?

PAGE 2

PANEL 1 When Wolfwood and Vash first met - Wolfwood boards the bus after being found in the desert.

PANEL 2 An ominoius close-up of Wolfwood's clawed demon hand. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): I've seen more than most in this nightmarish unforgiving world …

PANEL 3 Wolfwood looks up appearing normal, no claws, with a light blush as he sees Vash. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): … But nothing could have prepared me for you.

PANEL 4 Obscured close up of Vash smiling.

PANEL 5 Post Rai-Dei the Blade scene redraw - Shoot scene. Wolfwood holds Vash's hand with Wolfwood's pistol to his own head. Wolfwood's demon appearance unveiled to Vash. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): You told me I had a choice, when I thought there was no alternative. You saw right through my disguise, to the real me, or rather, the me I thought I was.

PANEL 6 A tight crop of Vash in his angel-ball-form, crying. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): Then I saw you. I didn't know how to feel. Horror? Disgust? Empathy? Part of me understood you, but the other couldn't grapple with the unfathomable.

PANEL 7 Vash and Wolfwood posed in a tableau weapons raised. They're washed out in a gray, Vash's scars in red and Wolfwood's hand and feet are splattered with red blood. Vash's wings/angelic form fill the background and Wolfwood crouching in front. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): We're not so different from one another. Not black, nor white, but shades of gray, stained with red. This life is not a kind one, and yet…

PAGE 3

PANEL 1 Wide shot of a rocky desert landscape. The outside is hot as hell, radiating from the surface around them. Vash shades them from the twin suns with his wings, as they frantically run toward shade. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION); …you showed me compassion when I didn't think I was worthy.

PANEL 2 Mid-shot of them running, Vash hunched with his hood up, Wolfwood beams, holding onto his hat. VASH: Over there! Ow, ow, hot, hot, hot! WOLFWOOD: Shade, thank the Lord!

PANEL 3 They hide under an overpass. Vash takes a swig from his canteen - still partially in his angel form , feathers on his cheeks, cooling down, red coat off. Wolfwood takes off this jacket, his white dress shirt open. WOLFWOOD: Hey needle-noggin, tell me something, what are ya doin' all this for?

PANEL 4 Vash gives Wolfwood the canteen. VASH: Like personally? WOLFWOOD: Nah, give me a big picture. What do you want out of this?

PANEL 5 Vash's expression softens. VASH: I suppose… I want a better tomorrow for everyone.

PANEL 6 Wolfwood blushes in surprise as he takes a swig from the canteen. VASH (OFF PANEL): That includes you, Wolfwood.

PANEL 7 Wolfwood's lowers the canteen, smiling. WOLFWOOD: It's that simple, huh? VASH: What, is something wrong with that? WOLFWOOD: No, no, I like it. It's good. VASH: Well, what about you?

PANEL 8 Extreme closeup of Wolfwood's eye looking down. WOLFWOOD: Honestly? My answer is no different.

PANEL 9 Wolfwood offers Vash the water back. WOLFWOOD: To tomorrow.

PANEL 10 Their hands overlap, Vash's over Wolfwood's. VASH: To tomorrow.

PAGE 4

PANEL 1: During the ark/the fall arc - a close up of their hands (to keep it vague.) Wolfwood pulls Vash up by the wrist. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): You let me stay by your side, even when I strayed, I came back for you, the weight of tomorrow bearing down on me.

PANEL 2 Black panel. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): I'm damned. In spite of everything I've done, I won't let my actions be in vain.

PANEL 3 They're on an elevated cliff platform at night, almost morning. Wolfwood has his wings out, ready to take off. WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): That's why…

PANEL 4 Wolfwood looks off into the distance, a smile tugging at his lips. WOLFWOOD: I need to go now. But before I do, I want you to know that despite this hellish life I was born into…

PANEL 5 Mid-shot of Vash, tears pricking his eyes. WOLFWOOD (OFF PANEL): …my time spent with you made it better.

PANEL 6 Big panel! Vash lunges into Wolfwood, clinging to him. Wings out, loose feathers swirl around them as they fall. (Angelina is on the ground with the Punisher.) WOLFWOOD (NARRATION): God, Vash, I never wanted to leave. You'll always be with me.

[kombuuuu]

hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?

For the Soul (and the Heart)

Miles!42 x Fem!Reader

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE

Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection

please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!

The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.

Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.

Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.

Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.

Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”

There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.

The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.

The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.

The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.

“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.

“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”

You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”

Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”

You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.

“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”

She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.

“Thank you, again.”

“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.

“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”

"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."

Miles glanced up in confusion.

“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”

“Why me?”

“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”

“She’s pretty, and around your age.”

“Ma, porfavor.”

“Ma, please.”

“Go.”

“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.

You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.

There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.

The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.

People feared him, the violence he brought with him.

You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?

If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?

The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.

“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”

“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”

“Sí mamá, ya sé.”

“Yeah mama, I know.”

The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.

The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.

“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”

“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.

“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.

“I’m Miles, by the way.”

“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”

His lips upturned again at the compliment.

You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.

“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”

You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”

He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.

Like claws.

—

Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.

Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.

The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.

And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.

Miles was about the same, probably worse.

You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.

So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.

“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.

You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.

Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.

You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.

“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”

He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.

—

“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”

Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.

You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.

“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.

His voice had gone deeper, smoother.

“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.

He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.

The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.

“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.

“Of course, Mami.”

“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”

You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.

“Mm, it is.”

“And you’re here.”

He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.

He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.

“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”

“You too, Miles.”

“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.

“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”

He hummed.

“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”

—

It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.

Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.

How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.

Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.

Every little thing.

He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.

He knew you felt the same.

Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.

And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.

He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.

You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.

—

Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.

Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.

It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:

Can you come over later?

He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.

And you did, swiftly replying;

okayyyy !!

I’ll pick you up at 7.

six…?

7, [Name].

>:(

Don’t be childish.

i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:

You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.

Your phone pinged again.

See you at six.

You smiled.

You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.

—

He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.

“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”

“Don’t apologise, Miles.”

You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.

“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”

You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.

You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.

You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.

“You good, Chiquita?”

“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”

“Mmhm.”

You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.

“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”

He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.

“Maybe ask politely.”

You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.

“Miles.”

“[Name].”

“Oh my god.”

“It’s just a ‘please’.”

“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”

“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.

You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.

You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.

—

He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.

Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.

“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”

“Mm, thought you’d like it.”

“I do, so much.”

You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.

The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.

“My dad.”

Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.

“I’m sorry.”

“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”

He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.

Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.

He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.

There was no escaping his death.

So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.

He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.

“Come sit, vida mía.”

You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.

A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.

There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.

You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.

“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.

“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”

You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.

“Wh—.”

It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.

“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”

“It would.”

He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”

“Mm, we could—,”

He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.

“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”

“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.

“I’ve wanted that for a while.”

“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”

He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.

“Don’t get all shy on me now.”

You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.

“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”

“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”

“Uhuh.”

“Miles!”

“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”

“Oh my goodness!”

—

And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.

Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.

But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.

It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.

—

YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️

thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife

(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)

[iamred-iamyellow]

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Gangsters Wife

♥ masterlist | request rules

♥ pairing: mafiaboss!carlos sainz x fem!wife!reader

♥ synopsis: things start to change for you and your marriage-of-convenience husband after you stitch up his wounds

♥ one-shot - as always none of the pictures are mine <3

♥ warnings: swearing and vague descriptions of smut - p in v (wrap it before you tap it) !!!

♥ a/n: i wrote on my vacation lol. i’m a little nervous to post this since it’s uncharted writing territory for me but i hope you enjoy reading it <3

You sat on the black satin sheets of your bed, waiting for your husband to come back from business. You knew you should probably be asleep; that he wouldn’t want you up worrying for him, but here you were wide awake. 

It wasn’t like the two of you married for love, anyway. It was much more out of convenience. His job was… interesting, but you weren’t complaining about the luxury that you now lived in due to the arrangement. 

Your breath hitched as you heard the door unlock, assuming it was Carlos. He made his way towards the bedroom and immediately locked eyes with you. His hair was slicked to the side and he had a couple of cuts on his face. He was wearing a red shirt, the sleeves rolled to his elbows, black dress pants, some black shoes, and an expensive watch. 

“Go to bed,” he demanded, removing the ticking object from his wrist and laying it down in a drawer with the rest of his collection. 

“I couldn’t sleep,” you admitted, rustling in the bed sheets. 

“I’m alright if that’s what you’re wondering,” he swiped his thumb over the blood on his bottom lip. “Get some rest.” 

You slowly stood up and strolled over to him.  Your gaze dropped down to the ripped fabric on his side, presumably from a fight. 

“Were you stabbed?” you asked in a whisper. 

“Lightly.”

“Lightly? What does lightly mean?”

He began unbuttoning his shirt, though it didn’t take long before it was off of him. The moonlight from a small open window illuminated his body, his muscles were strained, covered in sweat, and there was a wound flooded with blood on his abdomen. 

“It’s not that deep,” he murmured.

“Literally or figuratively? Because it looks like the knife went in pretty far.” You softly grazed his skin with the light touch of your fingertips. 

You walked over to your nightstand and pulled out a small stitch kit. 

“Sit down,” you commanded him, nodding towards the edge of the bed. 

“I’m fine. I can do this on my own.” 

“I said sit. down.” 

He took a deep, agitated sigh and did as you told him. You dampened a rag in the bathroom and returned to clean the blood off his wound.

You threaded the needle and pierced it through his skin, beginning the first stitch. 

“Are you sure you’re qualified for this?” he asked. 

You nodded, “I wouldn’t have married you without knowing how to do this.” 

He hummed and your left hand went to his waist to hold him still. He could feel the coldness of the silver wedding ring he gave you only a few months ago. 

You finished pulling the last part of the thread and cut the excess off. 

“There,” you said, pressing your palm gently against his abs.

He pulled you onto his lap and his hands firmly gripped your thighs. You made a soft sound and ground down onto his belt. 

“Tomorrow, amor.” he stopped you and whispered. “Let’s go to bed.” 

-

You woke up first at 7. You had rolled over to find your husband awake, messaging someone on his phone.

“Go back to sleep cariño,” he mumbled, running one of his hands over your hair.

You grabbed his hand and kissed his palm, slowly making your way up his arm.

“Amor,” he warned.

“What? You said tomorrow… it’s tomorrow.”

The next thing you knew he had you pinned down by your neck. His phone rang on the nightstand and he used his free hand to pick it up, still thrusting into you as he did so.

“Leave us alone,” he said and hung up instantly.

Leave. Us. Alone.

You woke up again at 9, this time alone in your bed. You wandered into the kitchen to see your husband making breakfast.

“Carlitos?” you ask, a faint smile teasing your lips. “Where’s the chef?” 

“I sent him home.”

“You’ve never cooked for me before,” you took a seat on the barstool at the counter. 

“I’ve never cooked for anyone before,” he admitted.

He set some pancakes on a plate and handed it to you.

You hummed, “No syrup?”

He shrugged “I don’t think we have any. I usually eat mine just the dough.”

It was odd having a conversation like this with Carlos. The two of you weren’t used to making small talk.

“Uhm, how do you feel? Are any of your cuts infected?” you asked.

“No, I feel fine,” he said putting cooking supplies away as you ate. “The stitching you did is good but i’ll probably still get my doctor to look at it.”

“Yeah that’s a good idea,” you replied, picking at your food as his phone rang.

He flipped it open to answer a call from an unknown number. From the muffled spanish voice on the other end you assumed it was from Fernando. 

“Sí, I’ll be there soon.” Carlos said and hung up the phone. 

“I’ll be back,” he told you, walking out the front door without a goodbye.

Your eyes caught the abundance of bodyguards that entered the room to block the exits and entrances. You sighed and slouched, tapping your nails on the marble counter. Great. Just when things were starting to get good.