chaoticcreative14

[chaoticcreative14]

AHHH SO GOOD 🩷🔥

In the Heat of Us

warnings: SMUTTIEST thing I’ve ever written (mdi); fingering; handjob; oral (f!receiving); multiple orgasms (f!receiving); pnv (wrap it before you tap it); there’s so much love and adoration it’ll give you a toothache from being so sweet

The morning light spilled softly over the edges of the sheets, warm and golden, the kind that made everything feel slower and sweeter. Sunny sat cross-legged on the bed, Joaquin’s hoodie swallowed up around her like a cocoon, her damp hair twisted into a towel. Joaquin had gone to grab her a bagel from the mess downstairs, but she'd wandered into the bathroom while he was gone to steal a better look at herself—because she felt different. 

And there, in the mirror, was why. Half-moon bruises dotted the curves of her thighs. Faint red crescents on her hips. Her neck—God, her neck. She turned slightly, dragging the hoodie off one shoulder, and flushed at the sight of it. The marks were unmistakable. Big hands had held her down, careful but commanding. His lips had found every inch of her. He’d been sweet and soft and reverent—until she begged him not to be.

Now, all those love bites were evidence. They ached in a delicious way, and the more she looked, the warmer her cheeks grew. She bit her lip, legs squeezing at the sight. A sound behind her made her spin. Joaquin froze in the doorway, a paper bag in one hand, two coffees in the other—his jaw slack. His eyes dropped to her shoulder, then dipped lower, following the exposed skin. He saw the bruises and his throat visibly bobbed with a swallow.

“Fuck,” Joaquin hissed, just that one word, low and reverent.

Sunny tugged the hoodie up over her shoulder again, but too late. His eyes were fixated intently on her, setting the bag and coffee down on the desk without looking away.

“You seein’ ‘em too?” she asked, a little too breathless—a little too bold.

Joaquin’s gaze lingered on her exposed skin, slow and deliberate. First her neck where a cluster of deep, purple-tinged crescent marks trailed along the curve below her jawline, each one a silent signature of last night’s hunger. Then down to her collarbone, where a scattering of faint, overlapping impressions from his lips and teeth created a delicate, mottled pattern like a whispered claim. Finally, his eyes roamed over the bruises blooming in varying shades across both of her thighs—dozens of spots, from soft purples to fiery reds, bold and undeniable evidence of every heated moment they’d shared.

His jaw clenched, muscles tightening as if holding back something fierce and tender all at once.

“You look like mine,” he growled, voice low, rough around the edges—possessive but not in a way that made her feel trapped. Rather, like a quiet promise.

Sunny’s breath hitched, heart beating fast. The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them: “I am yours.”

The confession came too easily, too naturally. Her cheeks flamed with heat, her eyes darting away for a fraction of a second before finding him again, vulnerable but sure. Joaquin didn’t move at first, just stood there, the space between them charged with everything neither had dared to say out loud before. Then, with those same long strides that had chased away every fear since they were kids, he closed the distance until he was right in front of her.

Sunny flushed a brilliant red, heart thudding as he closed the space between them. He was so close now—close enough that she could feel the warmth radiating off his skin, smell the faint trace of his cologne mixed with something distinctly him. Her breath caught as Joaquin reached up, hands steady and sure. His hands moved to the towel around her hair, fingers brushing her skin, and it was like every nerve in her body jumped to attention.

God, why did this feel so intimate? Sunny wondered. It was just a towel, just her hair—but the way he unwrapped it, slow and focused, like it mattered, like she mattered—her knees nearly buckled. The towel slipped away and dropped to the floor, forgotten. Then his fingers slid into her damp hair, combing gently through the strands like he had all the time in the world. She didn’t dare speak, didn’t dare move. If she blinked too fast, she was afraid she’d wake up.

She has no idea what she does to me, Joaquin thought, letting his thumb brush just behind her ear. She looks at me like she trusts me with everything—and God, I hope she’s right. He forced himself to slow down, to stay grounded, but everything about her—her scent, her nearness, the quiet way she leaned into his touch—made it nearly impossible. He didn’t just want her. He felt her and it scared the hell out of him.

“Say somethin’ sassy, baby,” he murmured. “I need the full Sunny experience.”

“I thought I already rocked your world last night, Torres,” she smirked, lips twitching with a tease. “You wanna go again so soon?”

Joaquin groaned. God, that mouth. That wit. That fire.

“Every time you talk, I fall in love with you a little harder,” he muttered, not really thinking, just feeling.

But Sunny froze; her body stilled, eyes locked on Joaquin like she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. Realization hit Joaquin like a punch to the chest. His eyes widened, and the words started tumbling out in a panic.

“Shit. That’s not—I didn’t mean to say that out loud. I was just—damn, I meant it—I really fuckin’ meant it, but I just didn’t mean to say it. Not like this—not when I’m eye fuckin’ you. I wanted it to be romantic, perfect...”

His voice trailed off, and there was a pregnant pause as Sunny watched him. She was overwhelmed with how cute he was acting right now. It might not have been the way he meant to tell her. It might not have been the most opportune moment, but it was real—and it was so him. And she wouldn’t have wanted it any other way.

Sunny reached up, cupped his cheek softly, and leaned in just enough for their foreheads to touch. Her other hand lingered on his chest and her voice was quiet but warm as she broke the silence: “You don’t have to say it perfectly. Just say it. I’m listening... you love me, Quino?”

Joaquin hesitated, but only for a heartbeat. There was no escaping this moment, no running from her—not now—not ever.

“Yeah,” he confessed, voice firm now. “Yeah, I do. I think I’ve loved you since you stole my Cheetos in the third grade and told me I was your favorite idiot.”

She laughed, all breathy and bright. Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer. “That was the best snack trade I ever made.”

Then her lips met his—soft and tentative at first, shy like a secret just between them. Quickly, that sweetness deepened into something hotter, wetter, more urgent. The air around them seemed to thicken, charged with a tension that made his pulse spike. Joaquin groaned low in his throat as her hands slipped beneath his shirt, nails tracing slow, teasing paths across the planes of his abs. Sunny’s touch was feather-light but insistent, sparking fire wherever her fingers roamed.

His hands found her waist, pulling her closer, the heat of her body pressing into his like a magnet he never wanted to resist. Every brush of her lips, every glide of her hands, sent waves of need crashing through him. Breath mingling, hearts pounding, they lost themselves in the moment—raw, desperate, and completely undone.

“You sure, baby?” he rasped, even though he was already pulling her closer.

“You put this on me,” she teased, lifting the hem of the hoodie to show another set of purple-tinged imprints on her hip. “You think I’m not gonna ask for more?”

That’s all it took. He lifted her up, kissing her with the hunger of a man who had been starving for years without realizing it. She wrapped her legs around his waist like second nature—because it was second nature. They were muscle memory, all tangled up in history and tension and love.

He laid her out on the bed, peeled the hoodie off her, and paused—just to look, just to appreciate. His fingers ghosted over the bruises again, then dipped lower, teasing, worshipful.

“Gonna make you feel it all over again,” Joaquin said, voice hoarse, low and reverent.

And he did. Clothes became nothing but obstacles, slipping away until skin met skin, warm and slick with the heat of their desire. Joaquin’s hands roamed with reverence and need, tracing the curve of her thighs, the small of her back, holding her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. 

His hands traced slow, deliberate paths along her skin, each touch igniting a trail of fire that made her shiver. He moved with a patient hunger, exploring every inch of her body like he was memorizing her all over again. His lips followed the path of his hands—soft kisses at first, gentle nips along her jaw, the curve of her neck, and down to the hollow of her collarbone. She melted against him, breath hitching as his fingers slipped beneath the hem of her shirt, grazing the sensitive skin of her ribs. 

The slow pace made every moment stretch, every touch linger—each second building a tension that pulsed between them like electricity. Then the rhythm shifted—still slow but heavier now, more urgent. Joaquin’s hands gripped her waist firmly, pulling her closer as their bodies aligned perfectly. His lips found hers again, and this time the kiss was deeper, fiercer—tongues teasing and tasting, hungry and demanding.

Sunny tangled her fingers in his hair, clutching him as if holding on was the only thing keeping her grounded. His breath was hot against her skin as he pressed harder, hips rolling with deliberate strength, setting a rhythm that was slow but powerful. Every movement was charged with passion, raw and tender all at once. The way he touched her—both with fire and care—made her feel like she was unraveling, piece by piece. Moans escaped her lips, soft at first, then growing louder, mingling with his deep groans.

His fingers moved with slow, deliberate precision, tracing every curve and hollow like he was memorizing her by touch alone. He took his time, teasing and exploring her most sensitive places, and when he finally slipped his fingers inside her, his eyes locked on hers—dark, intent—like he needed to see every flutter of her lashes, every shiver in her breath, every reaction unfold in real time. Sunny gasped when he found the perfect rhythm, his fingers moving with a patient, confident touch that revealed just how well he knew her body and how deeply he craved to know it even more.

Every stroke built on the last, steady and unrelenting, drawing soft cries from her lips as tension coiled tighter in her core. Her back arched, her fingers fisting the sheets, breath stuttering as wave after wave of pleasure rolled through her until her body trembled with release, his name the only thing she could manage to say. His mouth found her next, warm and hungry, lips and tongue worshiping every inch with reverence and need. 

Joaquin spread her thighs wider with firm hands, settling between them like it was where he belonged. His tongue dragged a slow, deliberate stripe through her folds before circling her clit with maddening focus, teasing until her hips bucked toward him on instinct. He groaned into her, the sound vibrating through her core as he tasted her, messy and unashamed, like she was his favorite thing in the world.

“God, you taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby,” he rasped between strokes, his voice thick and wrecked with want. “Years with you, and I still can’t get enough—been addicted to you for years, baby.”

Sunny gasped, locking her legs around his head, voice thick with heat as she managed to gasp, “Yeah? Then don’t ever stop.”

Then he dove back in without hesitation, mouth fierce and unrelenting, tongue tracing every sensitive spot as he slid two fingers deep inside her, curling them just right. Her thighs started to shake around his head, hands tangling in his hair to steady herself while the pressure inside her spun wildly out of control.

“Joa—fuck—don’t stop!” Sunny whimpered loudly, breathless and wrecked, her voice breaking on every word.

Encouraged by her reaction, Joaquin moaned against her dripping cunt and doubled down—sucking gently, licking in tight circles until she shattered beneath him. Her whole body arched, thighs clenching tightly around his head as her orgasm tore through her like lightning, her cry of his name echoing off the walls. Joaquin didn’t stop right away. He lapped up every last bit of her release, slow and tender, letting her ride out every last wave.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were slick, jaw tense, and eyes dark with awe and pure fucking adoration.

“You should see yourself,” he whispered, voice low and reverent. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you come for me.”

Sunny blinked down at him, flushed and breathless, her chest still heaving. A shaky, blissed-out smile broke across her face as her fingers threaded through his hair.

But Joaquin wasn’t done yet—not even close. Beneath him, her body shuddered gently; her hips and thighs pulsing with slow, languid twitches from the aftershock of two incredibly strong orgasms back to back. Joaquin pressed his cheek softly against her knee, breathing in the warmth of her skin as his eyes drank in every curve, every sigh. He lingered there a heartbeat longer, savoring the quiet between their racing pulses, before his lips began a slow, reverent trail.

Without hesitation, he plunged back in—his mouth fierce and demanding. His tongue flicked rapidly over her swollen clit, tracing fiery, teasing circles that sent sparks straight to her core. He sucked gently, then with increasing pressure, drawing soft, desperate moans from her lips. His mouth explored every sensitive ridge and fold, flicking and teasing with skillful precision, alternating between slow, languid licks and sharp, eager nips that made her shiver. He pressed his lips firmly against her, creating a wet, heated seal that left her breathless.

At the same time, his middle and ring fingers slid deep inside her, slick and sure. They curled upward, angling precisely to brush against the thick bundle of nerves nestled within, stretching her just enough to tease every inch of pleasure from her body. His fingers moved in slow, deliberate circles, then quickened into a relentless rhythm—rolling and stroking, pressing and pulsing—always finding the exact spots that made her hips jerk and her breath catch. Every curl, every thrust of his fingers was mirrored by his tongue’s fiery dance above, the combination sending waves of overwhelming sensation crashing through her until she was gasping and crying out, utterly undone.

Sunny was a moaning, babbling mess beneath him—her words falling out in incoherent gasps and whispers, her body thrashing wildly as she fought to stay grounded. Her hands were wound tight in his hair, pulling him closer, desperate to feel more of him. Sometimes her cries rose to half-screams, raw and trembling, mixing with the wet sounds of his mouth and fingers working her over—soft, sloppy slurps followed by a slick, rhythmic squelching that echoed with every slick glide and press. The sound of her soaking folds parting and pressing wetly against his lips and fingers filled the room, a constant, delicious reminder of just how drenched she was for him.

Joaquin’s eyes darkened with hunger and arousal at the sight and sound of her unraveling. Each desperate moan and trembling shudder turned him on more, the raw need pouring from her igniting a fierce fire inside him. He shifted slightly, hips grinding down hard against the sheets, the fabric of his boxers doing nothing to dull the ache building between his legs. The slick heat of her dripping folds, the intoxicating scent of her arousal, and the helpless, desperate way she clung to him pushed him over the edge.

He started to hump the bed, slow and heavy at first, then faster, harder—his boxers tightening as he drove himself against the mattress. The wet, squelching sound of her soaking wetness sliding and pressing against his mouth and fingers mixed with the loud smack of his hips against the sheets, creating a symphony of raw need and pleasure that filled the room. His fingers and mouth didn’t falter, continuing their relentless assault, the combination driving her closer and closer to the edge again and again.

Sunny’s breath hitched, chest rising and falling in ragged gasps as her muscles tensed impossibly tight. A deep, guttural cry tore from her throat—the sound raw, desperate, and utterly vulnerable. Her hips jerked up sharply, thighs shaking and trembling around his head. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as her body shuddered with the force of her third orgasm. It rolled through her like a storm, waves of release crashing relentlessly, her pussy gripping his fingers and soaking his mouth with need.

Even as the tremors coursed through her, Joaquin held nothing back—his tongue traced slow, teasing circles as his fingers continued their insistent, curling dance, coaxing every last drop of pleasure from her quivering body. She was utterly undone, lost to the sensation, riding the relentless waves until she finally collapsed, breathless and spent, a glowing haze of satisfaction settling over her, every nerve ending alight as waves of release rolled through her again and again. 

When he finally drew back, his lips glistened, jaw tight with tension, and his eyes burned with awe and fierce, unfiltered adoration. Sunny trembled beneath him, finally still, and Joaquin traced a trail of slow, tender kisses up her body—lingering on her thighs, hips, and stomach before reaching the delicate curve of her neck. His gaze locked with hers, a slow, knowing smile curling his lips as he drank in the soft haze of satisfaction that shrouded her face.

“You should see yourself,” Joaquin whispered, voice low and reverent. “You’re so fuckin’ beautiful when you come for me.”

Sunny’s eyes fluttered open slowly, lashes brushing against flushed cheeks as her breath caught deep in her throat. Her chest rose and fell in ragged, uneven gasps, each inhale and exhale trembling with the remnants of their shared heat. A shaky, blissful smile curved her lips, soft and tender, as her fingers found their way into the thick strands of his hair, curling and tangling possessively.

She pulled him closer, claiming him with a fierce, hungry kiss that tasted of longing and need, their mouths moving together with desperate urgency. Her hands gripped his hair and the back of his neck, holding him tight as if anchoring them both to this moment. His hands pressed firmly on either side of her head, steadying his balance as he hovered above her, muscles taut and trembling, barely able to keep himself upright.

His hips jerked in sudden, unsteady movements, faltering for a heartbeat as raw desire waged war inside him. Then, with a shuddering groan deep in his throat—a sound thick with need and release—his lower body sank fully onto hers. The impact was electric, a surge of fire and want that coursed between them. A curse slipped from his lips, low and ragged, carrying a heat that sent shivers rippling across their skin.

A soft, vulnerable whimper escaped Sunny’s parted lips as she arched instinctively into him, every nerve alive and humming with pleasure. Her hand slid down, finding him without hesitation, wrapping around his length in slow, deliberate strokes that stoked the fire blazing inside him. Joaquin’s hips twitched involuntarily to her touch with a need that was both desperate and reverent. As Sunny’s hand moved over him with steady, deliberate strokes, all the walls he’d tried to build around his control crumbled. 

Joaquin’s breath hitched sharply, then spilled out in ragged gasps that echoed softly in the quiet room. His mouth opened, releasing a string of low, guttural moans that grew louder and more desperate with every stroke. He wasn’t holding back—no, not anymore. His body betrayed him completely, hips twitching and jerking instinctively in time with her touch, as if his muscles had a mind of their own. Each flick of her fingers drew out another breathless gasp, a rough grunt, or a soft whimper that slipped from his throat, raw and unfiltered. 

Joaquin didn’t hold back—no longer fighting the flood of sound that poured from deep inside him. His head fell forward against her breasts, eyes fluttering shut, lips parting to let out a deep, throaty groan that vibrated through his chest. His hips jerked and twitched involuntarily, trying to match the rhythm she set, muscles taut with pleasure. Sunny’s hand moved with slow, confident strokes, and all restraint shattered in him like glass breaking. His breath hitched sharply, then spilled out in ragged, desperate gasps that filled the quiet room.

“Fuck, Sunny!” Joaquin groaned loudly, voice rough and ragged, thick with raw need. 

His head tipped back, eyes fluttering closed as his lips parted to release a deep, throaty moan that vibrated through his chest. Joaquin bit down on his lip, but the pleasure overwhelmed him; he couldn’t stop the cries, couldn’t silence the shivers racing through his body.

“God, you feel so good, Sunny,” he gasped between moans, fingers twitching in her hair as if to anchor himself to her. “Don’t stop—please, baby, don’t stop.”

Joaquin’s body trembled, each stroke sending jolts of fire through him that made his hips stutter and falter. His breaths came in ragged pants, punctuated by sharp grunts and low whimpers, the sound of him unraveling under her touch.

“You’re killing me,” he whispered, voice thick with need and wonder, “I can’t—God, I’m gonna lose it.”

Joaquin’s moans spilled freely now—loud, urgent, desperate—each one a raw confession of the pleasure coursing through him. His hands gripped her tighter, one resting at the nape of her neck, the other tangled in her hair, as if holding her close could keep him from falling apart entirely.Then, with a shaky breath, he gently but firmly placed a hand over hers, stopping her motion. His eyes met hers, dark and heavy with longing and reverence.

“Not yet,” he murmured, voice husky. “I need to be inside you—right here, right now.”

He shifted slowly, his hips sinking fully onto hers, the deep connection between them sending a fresh rush of heat spiraling through his veins. The room filled with the soft symphony of their mingled breaths and quiet groans, a new rhythm beginning as he finally found the place where he belonged. Sunny smiled up at him—soft and radiant, eyes shimmering with trust and desire. 

Her free hand trailed up his side, traveling across his back and sweeping over his shoulders before tangling gently in his hair. Meanwhile, her other hand—still wrapped firmly around him—guided him inside her with slow, deliberate precision. The slick heat of her cunt pressed invitingly against him, and she helped ease him deeper with small, encouraging movements. Joaquin sank into her with a slow, reverent groan, like coming home after a lifetime away. Their eyes met and held, everything else fading to silence except the soft gasps, the shared breath, the sound of skin against skin.

The subtle friction, the mingling of their warmth, and the slow, deliberate connection sent a shiver of pleasure rippling through both of them. Every inch that slid inside was met with a welcoming squeeze, a silent promise of shared surrender and intimacy. Her breath hitched softly against his skin, her body opening to him as they moved together, finally complete in their closeness. Every subtle shift sent waves of fire coursing through them, the slick glide of skin against skin igniting nerves that burned with exquisite intensity. Joaquin’s movements were slow and deliberate, each one coaxing a deeper response, the gentle pressure inside her a promise that echoed with every pulse. 

Sunny trembled beneath him, muscles tightening instinctively around him, drawing him closer, holding him like a secret she never wanted to let go. Her breath came in soft, uneven pants, the warmth of it brushing against his collarbone, sending ripples of heat spiraling through his body. His hands roamed carefully, tracing the curves of her breasts, memorizing the way her skin quivered under his touch. The way her fingers clung to his hair, her nails lightly grazing his scalp, made his breath catch—each sensation a spark setting his senses ablaze. 

The slow rise and fall of their bodies blended together, a rhythmic dance of need and tenderness. Every movement echoed a silent conversation: a gasp here, a shudder there, a tightening grip, a soft tremble. The pulse of their connection thrummed through them, raw and unfiltered. Time stretched and folded around them, the outside world fading until only the hum of their shared pleasure remained. Their bodies moved in harmony, a perfect balance of giving and receiving, the depth of their closeness, a physical and emotional surrender that left them both breathless and utterly alive.

Sunny came with a soft cry, her whole body arching into his as he slowed to ride her through it, kissing her temple, her jaw, whispering how beautiful she was, how good she felt, how much he loved her. But Joaquin didn’t stop. Her body was still fluttering around him when he picked up the pace, deeper now, harder—his hands gripping her thighs, anchoring them together as he chased that edge again.

“Quino!” she gasped, voice breaking, nails digging into his back. “Too sensitive—Joaquin, I can’t—”

“Let go for me again,” he whispered, forehead resting against hers, eyes wild and tender all at once. “One more time, baby. I’ve got you.”

Sunny didn’t think she could, but she did—shaking, breathless, moaning his name as she broke beneath him. Joaquin followed just after, groaning into her neck, hands trembling where they clutched the pillow and the curve of her hip, coming hard with a whispered curse and a kiss to her shoulder, like she was the only thing anchoring him to earth. They stayed tangled like that for a long moment: their foreheads pressed together, hearts pounding in perfect sync, neither one speaking because there was nothing else to say.

It was all there between them: in the fierce heat and the tender softness, the unspoken promises woven through every touch. In the way he gently brushed the stray hair from her cheek, his fingers lingering as he smiled down at her with quiet adoration. In the way her eyes, wide and shimmering, searched his face as if he had just handed her the stars themselves. Amid the mess of tangled limbs, ragged breaths, and whispered names, the world shrank to just the two of them. And then, fragile and trembling, her voice broke through the haze—soft, accidental, yet carrying a truth too undeniable to ignore.

“I love you.”

For a heartbeat, Joaquin froze, suspended in the weight of those words, his gaze locking onto hers with an intensity that left them both breathless.

“Say it again,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion.

“I love you, Joaquin Torres,” Sunny repeated, her voice steady, her smile soft and radiant—like saying it had set something free inside her.

“Took you long enough,” Joaquin teased,  then leaned in, his tone turning quiet and reverent. “I love you too, Sunny. So damn much.”

He said it like a prayer, like it had weight. Then, he captured her mouth in a kiss that was more than desire—it was a vow, a sealing of promises whispered long before but only now spoken aloud. This time, the love marks they left on each other weren’t just traces of passion or lust. They were the marks of a deeper bond—an unbreakable promise that they would carry with them forever.

[chaoticcreative14]

This is so good 🔥

Tangled Up in You

cw: smut - it’s sickeningly sweet and fluffy; not very explicit but still smut

They had always been just a little too much to be just friends. Since the first day of primary school—when Bee, all skinned knees and big eyes, sat beside Joaquin because his was the only seat left and he’d smiled like it mattered—something had tethered them together. From the beginning, it was effortless. Natural. Like they’d been waiting for each other without knowing it.

Even as kids, they were inseparable. Bee was quiet but clever, with a mischievous glint behind her soft smile, while Joaquin was loud, loyal, and made of reckless devotion. In second grade, when a boy shoved Bee on the playground, Joaquin didn’t hesitate—just flung himself in front of her like a pint-sized bodyguard. That was the moment. The unspoken vow. From then on, where he went, she followed; and where she led, he never strayed far behind.

They grew up side by side, speaking in looks, half-sentences, and shared grins. Their bond was magnetic, undeniable and impossible to define. Through middle school, high school, and all the messy years in between, their closeness never dimmed. When they enlisted in the Air Force together in their early twenties—a dream born from late-night talks and childhood promises—people assumed they were together. And maybe it was easier to let them believe it. Trying to explain what they’re dynamic never felt right, especially not when neither of them had figured it out themselves.

Because the truth was, their friendship had never fit neatly into the box other people expected. There were sleepovers that turned into weekends. Movie nights that ended in them curled together under the same blanket, too comfortable to move. They shared clothes, meals, secrets, space. She knew how to fix the broken clasp on his favorite watch. He knew which coffee shop she needed on her worst days—and exactly what to say to make her laugh when she didn’t want to smile.

Their friendship had always been intimate in ways others didn’t fully understand. They were just them—that undefinable thing that had always just been. It just made sense to Bee and Joaquin, but something had definitely shifted in the past month or so. It wasn’t dramatic. It was subtle. It was the way his hand would linger on her back just a second too long, fingertips ghosting the skin under her hem. The way she’d catch him watching her when he thought she wasn’t looking. The way he tied her shoes at the reggae festival in the square downtown. The way he held her hand way more frequently, even in public—hiding their clasped fingers under the table in front of their friends. 

It was the way the teasing had turned a little sharper, more charged, like every joke carried something unspoken underneath it. There were more shared glances that lasted longer than they should have. Nights when they fell asleep facing each other, both wide awake and pretending not to be. Close calls when one of them nearly said something neither was brave enough to voice yet. Neither one had dared push. For years, they’d lived in that careful balance: best friends but more. Lately, that balance had started to crack. Now, it was something that felt dangerously close to more.

So when they got assigned to attend a weekend leadership training together in Dallas—a rare break from the base, just the two of them—it felt both completely normal and entirely different. Another shared trip, another hotel room. They’d done it a hundred times before, but the second the hotel door clicked shut behind them, Bee felt the air shift. The room only had one bed, which wasn’t entirely uncommon for this size of a hotel. It wasn’t even an issue really. Hell, they’d shared smaller spaces in worse conditions before, but this time, when Joaquin tossed his bag on the chair and shot her that crooked grin, there was something else swimming in his eyes.

Dinner had been full of subtle touches: his knee brushing hers under the table, his hand resting on the small of her back as they walked, the way his fingers played with the hem of her sleeve while they talked. And she let him. More than let him actually. In fact, Bee leaned into it because the truth was simple: she adored him. Always had. Joaquin was her safe place and her biggest weakness all at once. He made her feel brave, made her feel seen, made her feel like she could be soft and strong all at once. And Joaquin? He had always looked at Bee like she hung the moon.

By the time they made it back to the room, Bee’s stomach was a mess of nerves and electricity. For a while, they didn’t speak, didn’t move. Just existed in that charged silence, heartbeats loud in their ears. Joaquin had flipped on the TV, some random action movie playing quietly in the background, but neither of them were paying much attention. Their thoughts were more consumed with each other, their proximity, and the palpable tension growing between them by the second.

It had always been like this: more than friends, not quite lovers, but tonight, the space between those two things was growing thinner by the second. The air was thick, humming with something neither of them dared name for years. Not because it wasn’t there—God, it had always been there—but because what they had was too good to risk. Until now. Bee sat bare-legged on the bed, wearing only his oversized flannel that swallowed her whole; the sleeves covered her hands and hem hit mid-thigh. If she was wearing her usual compression shorts, Joaquin couldn’t tell.

Bee always wore his shirts when they traveled; she insisted they were softer, better. Joaquin never argued. If anything, he absolutely adored seeing Bee in his clothes. Something about the way his clothes hung off her tiny frame made his chest tighten in ways he couldn’t even explain. They sat side by side on the bed, closer than necessary: thigh to thigh, hip to hip. That was it at first … but that didn’t last long. Joaquin’s hand had found her knee, casual at first, like it always was, but then it stayed. Fingers drawing small circles, his thumb grazing higher every so often testing the waters, teetering.

Shit, was she even wearing underwear? Joaquin wandered to himself. His heart skipped a beat at the thought, and he lightly squeezed her thigh just above the knee before continuing to trace circles on her skin. She tucked her head into his shoulder when he squeezed her thigh, failing to hide her scarlet cheeks. Her cheeks flushed that familiar soft pink that always made him weak. Joaquin could feel her pulse beneath his fingertips and he was losing his composure. Bee’s breath hitched every time his thumb drifted slightly higher—and every time she let him. 

Joaquin knew every version of her: the shy, brilliant, quick-witted girl from primary school; the bold, fiercely capable Air Force mechanic who could strip down an engine faster than most of their unit; and this version, sitting here in his shirt, letting him touch her like this. She was still his Bee, his best friend, his person. Lately, he couldn’t fight how he knew she was something more. He saw it in her eyes now as she glanced up at him through her lashes. She always tried to play it cool, but he knew her too well. That little tug on her bottom lip with her teeth. The way her breath hitched whenever they touched, no matter how casually.

He’d memorized her over the years and right now, every part of her was screaming yes, even if her lips hadn’t said the words yet. His thumb drifted just under the hem of her shorts again, feeling the warmth of her skin. She sucked in a quiet breath, her thighs parting the tiniest bit, almost involuntarily. That was new, Joaquin thought, yearning to make her shift again. 

“Joaquin…” Bee whispered, her voice tight, nervous but not uncertain.

He finally turned his head to meet her gaze, his own heart pounding. She was looking at him like she was standing at the edge of something, waiting for him to pull her over it.

“You should probably stop touching me like that,” she said softly, cheeks burning, her voice barely a breath. Then she swallowed, lifting her eyes to his with that quiet, brave confidence only he ever got to see. “Unless you plan on finishing what you started.”

Something inside Joaquin snapped. His breath left him in a low, shaky laugh, almost like he couldn’t believe she’d finally said it.

“Bee,” he murmured, voice thick, rougher now, “you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you say that.”

His hand slid higher, fingers splaying out over her hip, tugging her just a little closer. She didn’t resist.

“I mean it, Quino,” she breathed softly, urgency pulsing beneath the hush. “I’m tired of pretending.”

“You’re everything to me, Bee.” He cupped her face with his free hand, thumb brushing along her jaw. His voice dropped even lower, softer now. “You’ve always been everything.”

Her eyes softened, lips parting slightly as she leaned into his touch and uttered. “Then show me.”

That was it. Joaquin leaned in, slow but deliberate, his nose brushing against hers before his lips finally met hers in a kiss that nearly undid him. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t clumsy. It was full of years—years of wanting, years of holding back, years of small touches that had never been allowed to turn into this. Bee melted into him instantly, hands gripping his shirt, pulling him closer like she couldn’t get enough. 

His hands slid down her waist, fingers curling into her hips, holding her like she might slip away if he didn’t anchor her to him. He deepened the kiss, tilting her chin up gently as their lips moved together with perfect, practiced ease like they’d been made for this all along.

“You’re shaking,” Joaquin whispered against her lips when they finally paused for breath, his forehead resting gently against hers, his hand still cupping her cheek. “Baby, we don’t have to—”

“I want to,” Bee assured him quietly, looking up at him with so much trust it nearly broke him. “I’ve wanted this. I want you, Joaquin.”

He exhaled slowly, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to her forehead, then her nose, then back to her lips, gentler this time. 

“I’m gonna take care of you,” he murmured, his voice steady and sure. “Every second. Every part of you.”

 “I know, baby,” she cooed. Her whole body flushed at his words, her chest swelling.

Joaquin pulled back slightly, just enough to drink her in—her flushed cheeks, her bright eyes, the nervous but excited rise and fall of her chest. She smiled up at him, shy but certain. 

“You’re my whole world, Bee. You know that, right?”

Nodding, she placed a hand on his cheek and whispered, “You’ve been mine for years.”

That was the tipping point for both of them. Joaquin kissed her again, deeper now, his hand sliding beneath the oversized shirt, fingertips dancing over the smooth skin of her stomach. Bee gasped softly against his mouth, arching into his touch, fingers fisting his shirt like she couldn’t pull him close enough. Her skin was warm, soft under his hands as he explored her like she was something sacred, like she was something he was finally allowed to cherish properly.

Every move Joaquin made was careful but full of intent, constantly watching her for any sign of hesitation, but there was none. There was only trust—only the kind of vulnerability that made his chest ache.

“You tell me to stop,” he whispered against her ear, his voice thick and breathless as his lips ghosted along her jawline, “and I’ll stop without hesitation, no questions asked. You have all the control here, Bee. You always do.”

Her fingers cradled his jaw, gently drawing him closer so she could meet his gaze—her eyes steady and serious. “I don’t want you to stop, Joaquin.”

The way she said his name nearly broke him. A small noise escaped from his chest. A whimper? A whine? He wasn’t sure, but all he knew was the way he felt like his could beat out of his chest from how much he loved her. 

“Okay,” he whispered back, voice cracking with emotion. “Okay, baby.”

Joaquin kissed her again, slower now, savoring, as his hand slid up her ribcage, memorizing every inch of her. Bee was trembling slightly under his touch, but it wasn’t fear. It was the weight of years of longing—years of wanting finally collapsing into this moment.

When they finally shifted back onto the bed, tangled together, his hands still holding her like she was something precious, he paused again, resting his forehead against hers.

“I love you,” he sighed, finally letting the words fall out like they’d been trapped inside him for years.

“I love you too, baby,” Bee whispered. Her eyes filled instantly, her hand brushing his cheek with a tender smile. 

And with that, they finally crossed the line they had both been standing at for far too long. The world outside the hotel room faded into nothing. Every breath, every touch, every heartbeat belonged only to them. Joaquin hovered over Bee, one hand gently cradling her face, the other splayed wide against her waist, grounding her. His dark eyes searched hers as if checking one last time, even though the answer was already written all over her face.

“Bee,” he murmured, his voice barely holding together. “Tell me if anything feels too fast. If you want me to slow down—”

“I don’t want you to slow down,” she breathed against his lips. Her hand slipped into his hair, pulling him down into a kiss that spoke louder than words. “I just want you.”

“I’m right here, baby. Always.” His voice was low, reverent, every word full of the love he’d carried for years. A shaky breath left his chest like a weight finally dropping.

He kissed her again, slow and deep, as his hand slid beneath the hem of his shirt—her shirt now—fingertips exploring the warm, soft skin of her stomach, her ribs, up to where his thumb brushed just beneath her bra. Bee gasped softly against his mouth, fingers tightening in his hair. She was already trembling beneath him, not from nerves but from the sheer weight of years leading to this moment. Years of what-ifs and almosts, of held-back glances and unspoken words.

“Beautiful,” Joaquin whispered as his lips trailed down her jaw, across her neck, placing open-mouthed kisses that made her skin burn beneath him. “You’re so beautiful, Bee.”

Her fingers trailed up his arms, sensing the strain in his biceps as he hovered above her, careful not to let his full weight fall. Ever the gentlemen, she thought. Bee let her hands roamed his back beneath his t-shirt, feeling the tension in his muscles, the way he was holding himself back for her—keeping his control for her sake. Always putting her first.

“You don’t have to hold back,” she said softly. “I trust you … just let go.”

Joaquin’s entire body shuddered. He sat up briefly, helping her sit with him. Slowly, carefully, he pulled his shirt off her, letting it fall to the side. His hands skimmed along her arms, never breaking eye contact as if memorizing every inch of her. Her breath caught under his gaze, but he cupped her face again, his thumb brushing away the nerves. His lips met hers again as he gently eased her back down, covering her body with his, making sure she never once felt unsafe, never once felt rushed.

Every touch was deliberate, tender—but beneath it, years of pent-up tension finally ignited. When his mouth found hers again, it was deeper now, their bodies arching into each other, hands exploring, breathing ragged. His lips trailed lower, leaving kisses down her throat, over her chest, each one softer than the last, like a promise.

“I love you,” he whispered again as his forehead pressed against hers, both of them breathless, hearts pounding as their bodies finally came together fully. “I’ve always loved you.”

“I love you too, Joaquin,” Her eyes filled with tears, but her smile was radiant.

Their bodies moved together in harmony: not rushed, not clumsy. Rather, they moved with the kind of deep understanding that came from years of knowing each other better than anyone else. Joaquin’s hands never stopped roaming, but every touch was deliberate, careful, reverent. Like she was something sacred that he had finally been allowed to cherish the way he always wanted.

Bee’s breath hitched with every slow thrust, every kiss he left against her skin—the mole on her left shoulder, the soft curve beneath her breast, the tender corner of her mouth where his lips lingered, tongues brushing in a slow, aching tease. It was as if Joaquin was trying to memorize every inch of her all at once. He could feel how tightly she clung to him, her arms locked around his shoulders, fingers curling into his hair, like she was anchoring herself to him. 

And God, he wanted to be her anchor—always.

“You’re okay?” he whispered against her ear, his voice breaking as he fought to keep control, to not overwhelm her.

She nodded breathlessly, eyes locked on his, her cheeks flushed with heat and love. “I’m perfect. You feel so good, Joaquin.”

That simple sentence undid him. His pace faltered for just a second as he let out a shaky groan, resting his forehead against hers.

“You have no idea what you do to me, Bee… I’ve always wanted you, always loved you.”

Her hand came up to cup his jaw, her thumb brushing along his cheekbone. 

“I’ve always been yours, even when we pretended we weren’t.”

A quiet, desperate sound left his throat as he kissed her again, deeply, slowly, holding her as if the moment itself might slip away if he wasn’t careful. Joaquin’s movements grew more tender, more intimate, like he was pouring every unspoken word, every stolen glance, every repressed feeling into every touch. It wasn’t just sex. It was years of love finally breaking free.

And when they both finally reached their peak, their bodies tightening together, hearts racing in sync, neither of them let go. Even as their breathing slowed, even as Joaquin whispered her name like a prayer against her lips, they stayed wrapped in each other’s arms. Bee’s eyes shimmered as she blinked up at him, a single tear slipping free from the overwhelming weight of what they had finally crossed into.

He caught it gently with his thumb, his voice cracking as he whispered, “I’ve got you, Bee. Always.”

“I know, Quino.” Her chest rose and fell with soft, steady breaths as she smiled up at him, completely safe, completely his. 

Joaquin pressed one final kiss to her lips, then tucked her closer to his chest, like he could protect her from the whole damn world. And she let him.

The Morning After

The soft glow of dawn peeked through the thin hotel curtains, casting golden stripes across the tangled sheets. Bee stirred first, her body warm against Joaquin’s chest, the steady thump of his heartbeat beneath her ear like a steady drum she never wanted to leave. For the first time in years, she didn’t have to pretend. Didn’t have to keep it in. She was exactly where she belonged.

She shifted slightly, and instantly, Joaquin’s arm tightened around her — even in sleep, his body stayed attuned to hers, instinctively protective.

“Hmm,” Joaquin mumbled, his voice thick with sleep, raspy. “You leavin’ me already?”

“Not a chance, baby,” Bee smiled against his chest, tracing a lazy circle over his bare skin with her fingertip. 

His eyes fluttered open, gaze landing on her with that familiar warmth she’d seen a million times, but now it held something new: something that made her stomach flutter. Joaquin studied her face like she was some rare, beautiful thing he couldn’t believe was real. Then, slowly, a soft smile spread across his lips as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Good morning, pretty girl,” he murmured softly.

Bee’s cheeks flushed scarlet at the nickname, even after everything they’d shared. For a moment, neither spoke— just stared, soaking in the comfort of waking up tangled in each other like they’d always belonged here.

“Last night wasn’t a dream, was it?” she whispered softly, almost afraid to break the moment.

“No, cariño.” His voice turned serious, tender. “It was very real.”

Joaquin leaned in and kissed her forehead, lingering there as his hand slid up her back, his thumb drawing small circles across her skin like he couldn’t stop touching her.

“I still can’t believe I finally get to hold you like this,” he mumbled into her hair. “I’ve wanted this for so damn long, Bee.”

Her heart swelled. She tilted her head up to meet his gaze, her voice a little wobbly.

“Me too,” she admitted quietly. “I didn’t think we’d ever get here.”

Joaquin cupped her face gently, brushing his thumb across her cheekbone.

“I was scared, you know?” he confessed. “Scared I’d ruin what we had … that you’d feel like I’d crossed a line.”

Bee leaned into his hand and whispered, “You didn’t ruin anything, Joaquin. You made it better.”

Joaquin’s eyes softened even more—if that was possible—as he kissed her again, slow and sweet. “I swear, I’ll spend every day making sure you never doubt how much I love you.”

Her breath caught in her throat at his words, but she managed to say: “You really are stuck with me forever now, Quino.”

“Perfect,” Joaquin replied, pressing his forehead to hers with a crooked smile. “That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

They laid there for a long time, wrapped up in the kind of silence that didn’t need to be filled—safe, warm, wrapped in each other. Eventually, Bee shifted, burying her face in his chest again and grumbled, “I don’t ever want to get up.”

“We don’t have to, baby,” Joaquin laughed softly, running his fingers through her hair. “I’ll call in sick. Tell ‘em I’ve got something way more important to take care of.”

“You’re ridiculous,” she giggled, cheeks burning.

“You’re my girl now.” His voice dipped into that soft rasp again. “I finally get to be ridiculous about you.”

Bee smiled so hard her cheeks hurt as he kissed her again, longer this time, like he was making up for all the years they’d held back. And neither of them let go for a long, long while.

Back At Base

Walking back onto base together felt different now. For years, they’d moved side by side—two parts of the same whole—but this time, it felt new. Solid. Real. Bee’s hand was tucked into Joaquin’s like it had always belonged there, and Joaquin kept brushing his thumb across her knuckles like he needed constant reassurance she was really his now.

It wasn’t for show. It was instinct.

They didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t announce it — they just walked into the rec room like they had a thousand times before. But the shift in the air was immediate.

Maya and Garcia sat across from each other at a table, mid-card game, both glancing up as the door opened. And froze.

“Shut up!” Maya’s eyes widened as she slammed her cards on the table. “I’ve been waiting forever for this.”

Surprised, Garcia’s jaw dropped halfway open and he gasped, “You’ve got to be kidding me! It actually happened?”

Bee’s blush bloomed instantly across her cheeks, but she didn’t let go. Instead, she squeezed Joaquin’s hand tightly and leaned into him, her other hand curling around his bicep as she tucked her blushing cheek against his arm like it was her favorite place in the world. Joaquin looked down at her, visibly softening; he gave her hand a gentle squeeze back, like he was silently telling her, I’ve got you. He leaned down to kiss her temple and she squeezed his hand.

Maya pointed dramatically and half-shouted, “You guys are literally holding hands!”

“Took you long enough,” Garcia shook his head, grinning. “I had money on this happening during leave last year.”

“You bet on us?” Joaquin raised a brow, half-amused, half-offended.

“Everyone bet on you,” Maya said matter-of-factly. She leaned back in her chair, arms crossed. “You’re the duo. Everyone knew except apparently you two.”

Bee hid her face against Joaquin’s shoulder, laughing into his sleeve. He rubbed her back gently, eyes soft as he kissed the top of her head.

Garcia whistled low. “Man, I knew you were close, but this is next-level.”

Joaquin looked at Bee, and then back at their friends.

“We’ve been in love with each other since, like… fifth grade.”

Bee snorted and nodded. “Honestly? Yeah.”

“You idiots!” Maya growned, looking close to tears. “That’s so romantic I could scream.”

“We didn’t want to mess it up,” Joaquin laughed, holding Bee tighter, “but we finally stopped being afraid.”

Bee looked up at him then, eyes soft and sure as she added, “It was never gonna break. Not us.”

There was a pause in the room—not awkward, but full. The kind of moment that only comes after something right finally clicks into place.

Garcia shook his head again, laughing as he said, “Damn, this is like watching a rom-com in real life.”

“We are the main characters,” Bee teased, nudging Joaquin gently. “Obviously.”

Joaquin smirked and leaned down to whisper, “You’re the main character, baby. I’m just the guy who’s been in love with you forever.”

“Okay, that’s enough!” Maya groaned, but even she was smiling. “I can’t handle this level of heart-eyes before noon.”

As the conversation drifted back to card games and lunch plans, Bee and Joaquin sank into the couch beside each other, still linked by touch: shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh, fingers intertwined. It didn’t feel like something new, really. It felt like coming home. Years of loyalty, trust, tension, and unspoken promises had led to this moment. Now, there was no pretending—no more maybe, or almost, or waiting.

They were finally what they’d always been destined to be: not just best friends, not just something more, but each other’s person. And that was only the beginning.

[chaoticcreative14]

Oh okay, so he’s trying to kill me, that’s fine.

📷 aaron richter

[chaoticcreative14]

Hey bestie! I was just wondering if you could write Manny x Abby x reader? Maybe the reader has a crush on Manny and Abby who are obviously a couple

Thank you so much for the request! Honestly I went a little overboard with this one, I hope you like it!

Abby x Manny x F! Reader | Smut

Summary: Tbh this is basically just pure filth with a tiny bit of plot sprinkled in. Abby and Manny dom you, that’s it, that’s the fic.

WARNINGS/TAGS: Smut 18+, Threesome (F/M/F), Fingering, Oral Sex (F! and M! Receiving), Squirting, P in V Sex, Manny and Abby Are In an Established Relationship, Reader is a Little Insecure, No Beta We Die Like Joel.

Word Count: 5182

You were in the dining hall eating dinner after a long day of work, starving and exhausted when your eyes landed on two people across the room. Abby and Manny. You let your gaze stay fixed on them, fork hanging in the air as you watched them talk to each other, having just grabbed their food.

Manny and Abby had been in a relationship for a little more than a year at this point and every member of the Wolves were sufficiently jealous. They were both stunning so when they had gotten into a relationship the two hottest people on the market had been removed. You yourself weren’t immune to their effect. In all honesty you had had a crush on them both for a while.

You talked to them most days, working in proximity to each other and you would even say you were somewhat friends, but that’s all you were. You knew neither of them looked at you the way you looked at them and that was okay, you were more than happy to just be their friend. Having some of them in your life was way better than having none of them.

You were snapped out of your thoughts when you saw that Abby and Manny had noticed you staring at them. You watched as Manny leaned over and whispered something to Abby, a smile spreading across her face at whatever he said. You felt your stomach drop as they made their way over to you.

You quickly dropped your eyes back to your plate, hoping they’d just pass by you. Instead, they dropped their trays of food on the table and sat on either side of you. “Hey y/n,” Manny said in greeting. “Busy day?”

“Um, yeah, you know, the usual,” you said awkwardly in response, still refusing to make eye contact with either of them.

“Yeah? You must be pretty tired,” Abby said sympathetically. “You work hard.”

At that, you shrugged and looked up at her slightly with an awkward smile on your face. “We all do,” you replied.

“We do,” Manny agreed, “but you work harder,” he said, grabbing your hand that was on the table and rubbing circles into it.

“It must be stressful,” Abby added, “being in charge of as many people as you are.”

“It can be,” you conceded. “But I’m not in the field like you two are or anything.” As you said this, you felt Abby’s hand work into your hair and start scratching the back of your head. You inhaled deeply at this, deeply confused about what was going on.

“Don’t downplay yourself,” Manny said, hand still caressing yours. “What you did is just as valuable as what we do.”

“I guess so,” you said, the steadiness of your voice fading as you felt them both lean in closer, close enough that you could feel their breath on your skin. “I’m sorry, what is happening right now?” you questioned, overwhelmed by their proximity to you.

“What do you mean?” Abby asked you, teasing evident in her voice.

“I mean,” you said, taking a shaky breath, “that you guys are both very close and very… touchy tonight.”

“Is that a problem?” Manny asked you, an eyebrow raised in question.

“No, it’s fine,” you assured them. “It’s just unusual,” you said. They both smiled, keeping their hands exactly where they were.

“Maybe we just wanted to show you that we appreciate you,” Abby said.

“Okay then,” you said, giving an awkward nod and returning your gaze to your food. Suddenly, you felt a strong hand on your chin, tilting your head up again.

“Why do you do that?” he asked you, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“Do what?” you asked nervously.

“Shy away from us,” he replied.

“You always shrink away like you’re not worthy of praise or affection,” Abby added.

You were silent for a moment, thinking about what to say. “It’s not that I don’t think I deserve those things,” you told them. “I just don’t understand why you two want to give them to me. I mean, you’re you and I’m just—”

“Just what?” Manny interjected, daring you to finish your sentence.

“Boring, average, and let’s be honest, I’m hardly much to look at,” you said, pulling your hand away from Manny’s and turning your head away from him.

“Hey,” Abby said. “Don’t talk about yourself that way, ever.”

“We wouldn’t be saying those things if we didn’t believe them and we wouldn’t be here with you if we didn’t want to be,” Manny promised you.

As soon as Manny finished speaking Abby stood up and looked briefly at Manny before making eye contact with you and holding out her hand. “Will you come with us somewhere?” Abby asked you.

You thought about it for a moment, weighing your options before nodding slowly and accepting her hand, standing up beside her. You stood there for a moment as Manny cleared your food before returning to you both. “Okay, let’s go,” Abby said, leading you away from the dining hall, Manny trailing behind you.

As the three of you weaved through the hallways of the compound, you realized where you were heading and a nervous excitement began to course through your body at what it meant. Your suspicions were confirmed when Abby stopped you guys in front of the door to her room and turned back towards you. “Are you still okay?” she asked you, checking in now that you had arrived at your destination.

“I’m good,” you promised. With that, Abby swung open the door to her room and you all stepped inside, Manny shutting it behind you. You stood still for a moment as you watched Abby let her hair down and step out of her boots. Similarly, Manny shoved off his own boots and threw his baseball cap onto the dresser in the room, stretching and letting out a deep groan. Seeing the way they moved around each other and how comfortable they were in each other’s space, you couldn’t help but see them as domestic. You almost felt like it was too intimate for you to watch.

Abby noticed you hadn’t moved from the door and smiled at you. “Do you want to make yourself more comfortable?” she asked. You nodded slightly in response and kicked off your own shoes, shrugging off your jacket and placing it on a chair near you. You felt Manny and Abby’s eyes on you as you moved, a slight shiver going down your spine.

When you turned back towards them after laying down your jacket, they were looking at you warmly. You interlocked your hands in front of you and rocked back on your heels, unsure of what to do next. Slowly, as if not to scare you off, Abby approached you, stopping just in front of you and tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear. “Is it okay if I try something?” she asked you, looking into your eyes.

Once again you nodded. You weren’t exactly sure what she was going to do but you didn’t care, you trusted her. With your permission granted, she leaned in slowly, ready to move back at a moment’s notice if you showed the slightest discomfort. When you showed none, she pressed her lips against yours softly, a small sigh escaping your lips at the feeling.

When you kissed her back, she got bolder, kissing you more firmly and sliding a hand to the back of your head, tangling her fingers in your hair. She pulled on it slightly and you groaned, parting your mouth to let the sound escape. Abby took the opportunity to slip her tongue into your mouth, dominating the kiss. You were helpless to do anything but stand there and take it, Abby exploring every inch of your mouth and drawing moans from your body.

As you parted from each other, you could feel that your lips were slightly swollen already and heat shot through your body, arousal pooling low in your belly. You looked over her shoulder and saw Manny, who was leaning against the dresser, arms crossed and heat clouding his eyes.

Abby looked behind her and beckoned him over with her finger, Manny immediately uncrossing his arms and making his way over. As he reached the two of you, he leaned down to give Abby a filthy kiss without a moment’s hesitation. Seeing them together, you felt wetness pool between your legs and you barely held back a moan.

When they pulled away from each other Manny turned to you. He raised an eyebrow in silent question and you nodded at him while biting your lip. He cupped the side of your face and used the thumb of his other hand to pull your lip from between your teeth. When your lip was freed, he pressed his lips against yours passionately, tongue working its way into your mouth immediately.

He relished in the sound of the moan you let out, attempting to coax more out of you which was hardly difficult considering how turned on you were. After a minute or so, he pulled back from you and took a step back. You were all breathing heavily, looking at each other, arousal clear in all of your eyes.

“Should we move this to the bed?” Abby asked you both though she was looking at you.

“Good idea baby,” Manny said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. They both looked at you for confirmation and you gave it to them.

“Yeah, let’s move to the bed,” you agreed, the first words you had spoken since entering the room. You moved to head to Abby’s bed located in one corner of her room but Abby and Manny stopped you gently.

“Take your clothes off first,” Abby whispered against your ear. “It will make things easier in the long run.”

“Okay,” you said, nerves evident in your voice.

“Hey,” Manny said, rubbing your arm, “you’re beautiful.” You smiled at that feeling a little more confident and stepped back from them. Manny and Abby began to strip off their clothes and you joined them, starting with your socks and then grabbing the hem of your t-shirt and lifting it over your head. Your bra wasn’t anything special, black and simple but at least it matched your panties.

Next, you unbuttoned your pants and undid the zipper, sliding them down your legs, leaving you in just your underwear. Manny and Abby, for their part, were already completely naked, less reserved about stripping down than you were. They were now watching you with hunger in their eyes as every new inch of skin was revealed.

Slowly, aware of the eyes on you, you reached around your back and unclasped your bra, sliding the straps down and letting the piece of clothing fall to the floor. “Fuck,” Manny said as your breasts were revealed. “You have such pretty tits, cariño” he said and Abby hummed in agreement.

You let a shy smile spread across your face before steeling yourself for the next part. As confidently as you could, you slid your panties down your legs baring all of yourself to the pair of them.”Look at you,” Abby said, studying your body. “You’re stunning.”

With all three of you devoid of clothing, you relocated yourselves to the bed which was larger than the average one found in the compound, a perk of being Isaac’s favourite you supposed. Manny sat down first, scooting towards the headboard until his back made contact with it. “Go sit between Manny’s legs gorgeous,” Abby said from behind you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You did as you were told, crawling onto the bed between Manny’s legs and turning around so your back was pressed against his chest. Manny wrapped his arms around your middle, pulling you more firmly against him before hooking your legs over his, moving you into the position he wanted and effectively spreading you. He began to trail kisses down your neck as Abby joined you two on the bed, crawling in front of you and leaning in to give you a kiss to your lips.

You moaned at the dual sensation of kissing Abby while Manny was attacking your neck, occasionally sucking marks into it. You spent a few minutes this way, getting used to the intimacy of being with them. When Abby eventually pulled back, she started to press kisses into the opposite side of your neck to Manny. She didn’t stop at your neck however, moving on to your collar bone, and continuing on to the center of your chest. Once she reached your chest, she looked up and made eye contact with you, your head tilted slightly to the side to make more room for Manny’s mouth.

Once she was sure she had your attention, Abby moved her head to hover over your right breast and slowly pressed a kiss against your nipple. You shivered slightly in response and she smiled, kissing around it before sucking the nipple into her mouth, her eyes still on you. “Holy shit,” you whined, nipple sensitive as Abby sucked on it.

Manny huffed out a laugh against your neck at your reaction and pulled back slightly. “Does that feel good, cariño?” he whispered against your ear, sending even more shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you moaned, turning your head to look at him. He smiled at you and grabbed your chin, kissing you as Abby continued her assault on your breasts. Her mouth was still attached to your left nipple but her left hand had come up to rub and pinch at your right one, sending even more pleasure coursing through your body.

She detached from you for a moment, a proud look on her face. “You’re doing so good for us, gorgeous,” she promised you. She then returned to your chest, this time taking your right nipple into her mouth while her right hand played with your swollen nipple. You moaned into Manny’s mouth as the pleasure you were experiencing began to overwhelm you. After a few more minutes, Abby finally pulled back from your chest, mouth swollen from all the attention she had been giving you. “Fuck you’re perfect,” she said, moving to kiss down your stomach. “And you’re so sensitive,” she whispered against your skin. She kissed even further down your body, pausing above where you had been aching for the better part of thirty minutes. “Can I taste you?” she asked, looking at you for permission.

You broke away from Manny’s mouth to answer her, uttering a wrecked “Please.” With that, she smiled at you one last time before bringing her mouth to your pussy. She began by licking a stripe from your entrance to your clit, repeating the motion a couple of times and moaning at your taste. “Fuck,” you breathed out, the feel of her warm tongue on your wet pussy driving you insane.

After she had gotten you used to the sensation of her tongue, Abby moved her efforts to your clit, drawing it into her mouth and sucking. The burst of pleasure that coursed through your body at the action caused your legs to try and close in an attempt to escape the onslaught. These attempts, however, were thwarted by Manny, whose own legs kept yours spread open. He laughed at your sensitivity, mocking you with a teasing “Poor cariño, is too much for you?”

All you could do was whine in response, feeling too good to speak. Your pleasure was only heightened when Manny moved his arms up from where they were wrapped around your waist, bringing them up to your chest and beginning to pinch and flick your nipples. Your hips gave a little thrust at the sensation and you could feel Abby smile against you. She pulled away from you for a moment and caught your eyes, sitting up a bit and bringing her finger to your mouth. “Open,” she said, leaving no room for argument.

You obeyed her instantly, drawing her fingers into your mouth and moaning around them, sucking on them to get them wet with your saliva. Abby’s fingers didn’t need lubrication in truth, your pussy was practically drooling with your arousal. She had done it because she wanted to see how far you were willing to go for her and Manny.

After she was satisfied, Abby removed her hand from your mouth and brought it down to circle your clit, an action which caused you to arch your back against Manny, effectively pushing your ass into the bulge which had been growing since he entered the room. Manny let out a loud groan at the feeling, pushing his hips up into you and pinching your nipples harder.

As you were distracted by Manny, Abby had moved her hand from your clit and was now slowly working a finger into your tight heat. “Oh god,” you moaned out at the stretch. “That feels so fucking good.”

At that she leaned up and kissed you, still pumping her finger inside of you. She hummed against your lips before whispering, “Yeah?” against them. You just nodded, distracted by the feeling of her ring finger joining her middle one inside of you. At this point, you could feel your release building inside you. It wouldn’t take much more for the coil in your stomach to snap.

Abby seemed to sense this and curled her fingers up against walls, searching for the spot she knew would drive you crazy. It didn’t take long for her to find it and when she pressed her fingers against the spot, your whole body jolted. “Oh fuck,” you said, looking between your legs at what she was doing to you. She didn’t let up, rubbing against that spot continuously, not giving you a moment of reprieve.

It only took a minute before you felt the coil in your stomach reach its breaking point. Something felt different than usual, however. The sensation almost felt like it did when you were about to pee and you sat up a bit trying to warn Abby. “Fuck, Abby wait a second, I think I’m gonna—.” Abby just ignored you however, rubbing insistently against that spot.

“It’s okay,” she promised, “just cum for us.” But you were still hesitant, afraid of what would happen when you surrendered to the pleasure you were experiencing. They both noticed this and Manny leaned down to whisper against your ear, “Let go cariño, just let it happen. With that, he gave a harsh twist to your nipples and that was all you needed.

“Oh fuck, I’m cumming,” you said sobbing in pleasure. You could hear the wet sounds that your pussy made around Abby’s fingers and when you finally came, you could feel liquid come gushing out of you, soaking Abby’s hand and wrist as well as the bed beneath you. As soon as you were done cumming, you collapsed back against Manny who had removed his hands from your abused breasts and now had one hand stroking your stomach while the other brushed your sweaty hair away from your face. He was whispering sweet nothings into your ear, telling you what a good job you had done for them.

After she had fucked you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, Abby carefully removed her fingers from your pussy, giving you another kiss before bringing her hand to Manny’s lips, encouraging him to take her fingers in her mouth and taste you. He did so without hesitation, cleaning your release off her fingers and moaning at the taste of you. “Fuck, she tastes good,” he said to Abby.

“I know,” she said, leaning over to kiss him. After they pulled away, Manny slowly moved out from behind you, depositing you carefully against the pillows. Manny and Abby laid down on either side of you, stroking your body to comfort you after your intense release. You were still a bit out of it so they took care of you, caressing you and whispering endless praise. Eventually, you came back to yourself, blinking a few times and then looking at them.

“There she is,” Manny said with a smile, Abby mirroring him. “You ok?” he asked, checking in. In all honesty you had never felt better, body more relaxed than you could ever remember it being. Your contentment was replaced by embarrassment, however, when you felt a wet spot beneath you.

Your eyes widened and you covered you face in embarrassment. “Oh my god,” you groaned, “did I?”

“Squirt?” Abby said. “Yeah gorgeous you did.”

“And it was incredibly hot,” Manny added, pulling your hands away from your face. You smiled shyly at him, trying to take his word for it. You all lay there in each other’s arms for a few minutes, basking in the intimacy of being with each other like this until the silence was broken when Manny asked, “Do you think you can handle more?”

It was then that you realized neither of them had cum and you were overcome with the urge to rectify that. “Yeah,” you said, “I can handle more.”

They both gave you a kiss at that before sitting up, encouraging you to do the same. Abby moved to one side of the bed for a moment, taking you with her while Manny laid flat in the middle of it. When he was positioned comfortably, he beckoned you both over. His cock was red and dripping to the point it was almost painful and you wanted to put your mouth on it, so you did. You crawled over to him and pressed a kiss to the tip, tongue poking out to lick his slit, tasting his precum. He hissed at the feeling before pulling you up with a hand in your hair. “As much as I would like that, cariño, I had something else in mind for now.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, curious as to what he was planning. In answer, he grabbed your hips, positioning you so your pussy was brushing against his cock, both of you moaning at the contact. “Fuck,” you said, breathless at the thought of riding him.

“That’s the idea,” he said with a smirk. Positioned over him, you watched as he reached a hand out for Abby, pulling her until she was kneeling beside his chest. Abby leaned down to kiss him before turning her back to him and swinging a leg over his chest, straddling it in the process. When she was settled, Manny grabbed his cock in one hand, lining it up with your entrance. “Are you ready?” he asked you.

“Yes, please,” you begged, crying out as you sank down on his length which stretched you even more than you already were. As you worked yourself on his cock, taking more of it each time you sank down, Manny groaned in pleasure. It took a minute or so but you finally managed to take all of it, Manny bottoming out inside you causing everyone in the room to moan. You placed your hands on his strong stomach, giving yourself leverage as you began to rock your hips with him inside of you.

As you were doing this, Abby raised herself off of Manny’s chest and scooted back, his hands finding her hips and she lowered herself onto his face. Immediately, Manny started licking at Abby’s pussy, causing her to let out a moan, louder than she had been up until this point. She braced her hands against his chest to allow herself to rock herself against his tongue, riding his face as you rode his cock. “Fuck,” she said breathlessly, “you’re so good baby,” she said to Manny who groaned in response.

His hips were thrusting up to meet you as you began to bounce on his cock, thighs straining with the effort. Manny was so large that there was no part of your pussy that could escape him, your heat being thoroughly wrecked by his cock. “Oh fuck Manny,” you whined, moving your hips faster, “that feels so fucking good.”

Manny for his part was in heaven, your pussy clamping down on him so tightly he would’ve sworn you were a virgin if he didn’t know better. Abby’s taste was only increasing his arousal, causing him to thrust into you even harder. You couldn’t pay him all the money in the world to move from his current position.

As Manny’s hips slammed into yours, he moaned against Abby’s pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure straight to her clit which he wrapped his lips around, beginning to suck on it. “Jesus Christ,” he groaned against Abby’s wetness, lost in the pleasure of being with the both of you.

As Manny went back to eating Abby’s pussy and you continued to ride his cock, you and her looked at each other, both of your mouths open in pleasure. You both leaned forward, mouths finding each other and tongues clashing. At this point, you were both grinding your hips down as hard as you could while making out with each other, moaning into each other’s mouths.

On a particularly hard thrust, you felt Manny hit the same spot inside you that Abby had abused earlier. You let out a cry at the feeling, breaking away from Abby’s mouth to let out a moan of “right there!”

Manny heard you, doubling down and drilling into that spot over and over while still sucking on Abby’s clit. “Fuck yes,” Abby said as she felt her orgasm building. You and Manny were right there with her, the pleasure you all were experiencing threatening to spill over.

“Are you close, gorgeous?” she asked against your lips.

“Yes,” you moaned in answer, hips moving as fast as they could against Manny’s sharp thrusts.

“What about you baby, are you close?” she questioned, this time directing it at Manny. He hummed his agreement against her, working as hard as he could to make you both fall over the edge.

“Good me too,” Abby said, pleasure clear in her voice. “I’m gonna count down from three,” she said, “and when I say cum, we’re all gonna let go, yeah?” she asked. You and Manny both nodded and as Abby felt her pleasure mount she began her count. “Three,” she said, grinding her clit against Manny’s tongue. “Two,” she continued as Manny and your hips met in a violent thrust. “One,” she finished as she reached a hand behind her to tug on Manny’s hair. “Cum,” she said, slamming her lips into yours once again.

The room became filled with loud moans, pleasure screamed out into the quiet and bouncing off the walls. You let out a satisfied moan as you felt Manny’s cum fill you, taking pleasure in the fact that he was marking you in some way.

Abby’s legs shook around Manny’s head as he worked her through her release and his hips were giving little thrusts as he finished cumming. When you had all rode out your orgasms, Abby rolled off of Manny and collapsed on the bed beside him while you collapsed on top of him, head pressed against his chest.

“Holy shit,” Manny let out as he regained his breath, running a hand through his tousled hair.

“You could say that again,” you said as you laughed against him, one of his hands moving to rub your back soothingly, the other reaching to stroke Abby beside him in the same manner. You all sat silently for a while, basking in the afterglow of your shared orgasms. Finally, you sat up and gently slipped Manny out of you as Manny scooted to one side, allowing you to fall back into place on your back between him and Abby.

Clearly, neither of them was much for personal space as your legs all became tangled together, hands caressing each other's skin. You took this moment in, committing it to memory, sure that it would be the only time you would get to do this with them. After a few moments of silent gratefulness that you got to have this, even for one night, you sat yourself up, getting ready to vacate the bed.

Abby and Manny noted your movement and shared a look of confusion before sitting up as well. “Are you alright?” Abby asked, concerned.

“Everything’s fine,” you said as you turned and smiled at her. “I just thought I’d get out of your hair so you guys can get some rest.”

That confused them even more, having assumed that you would stay there with them that night. “What do you mean get out of our hair?” Manny asked as you made your way off the bed, slipping your panties on. “Y/n, wait a minute,” he said, grabbing your wrist to stop you as you went to search for the rest of your clothes.

“It’s really okay,” you said, turning back to them. “It was a one time thing, I get it. You don’t have to try and protect my feelings.”

At that, Abby and Manny clued into what was going on. “Y/n,” Abby said, getting you to look at her. “Manny and I didn’t want this to just be a one time thing,” she said.

“You didn’t?” you asked, looking at them in disbelief.

“No, cariño,” Manny said, pulling you to kneel on the bed in front of them. “We were hoping this could be an everyday thing,” he continued.

“An everyday thing?” you said with a laugh. “That’s a lot of sex,” you replied, still not understanding what they were trying to say. Abby moved closer to rub your arm as she tried to explain it to you.

“He wasn’t talking about sex, gorgeous,” she said. “I mean, yes, obviously we would love to have a lot of sex with you, but what Manny was trying to say is that we want you to be with us in more than a sexual way.”

You took a moment to try and understand what she was saying before the realization hit you, and when it did, you could hardly believe it. “You mean you want me to be in a relationship with you two?” you asked in disbelief.

“That’s exactly what we want,” Manny said, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“We want you to be ours,” Abby said, “if you want to be.”

“I would love to be,” you said, a little emotional. “But I don’t understand why you’d want me to be.”

“We told you before,” Manny said, dragging you to lie between them again on the bed, “we think you’re incredible.”

“So will you be ours?” Abby asked, stroking your hair.

“Of course I will,” you said with a smile, settling in with them as Manny pulled the covers over you all.

“Good,” Manny said, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Now sleep, we’ll be here when you wake up.”

And with that, you drifted off to sleep, safe and warm between your two favourite people, feeling more loved than you ever had before.

[chaoticcreative14]

Guys my bestie @rowinablx made me this mood board as a present and I literally love it so much. It’s so beautiful, I literally don’t deserve this 😭🩷

[chaoticcreative14]

No Exit - Chapter 2

Mafia Boss! Ash Garver x F! Bartender Reader

Summary: You have just gotten a new job as a bartender at your city’s most popular club ‘No Exit’. A coworker’s illness causes you to be placed in the VIP section of the club where you meet none other than the club’s owner, Ash. As you spend more time there, you start to realize that the club, and its owner, are much more than what they first appeared to be.

Chapter Summary: Your second day of work at No Exit you find yourself in for a surprise and, perhaps, some light flirting with your boss?

WARNINGS/TAGS (these are the tags for the whole series and are subject to change): Smut 18+, Violence, Blood, Death, Knife Play, Gun Play, BDSM, Rough Sex,, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2499

By some miracle, you had managed to get through the rest of your shift without embarrassing yourself, probably due to the fact that Ash and his friends didn’t order anything else after their whiskeys so you didn’t have the opportunity to put your foot in your mouth.

In fact, you had barely interacted with them at all which is why you were surprised when you saw the tip they had left for you. Five-hundred dollars. They had left you five-hundred dollars. You weren’t an expert regarding the club by any means but you were pretty sure that was way higher of a tip than is usually given.

You were proven right as you were leaving when you mentioned the tip to Darby. “Shit,” she said, impressed. “You must’ve made a good impression with Ash if he tipped you that much.”

“Well that’s a positive I guess,” you responded.

“Oh it’s definitely a good thing,” Darby confirmed. She had stayed back to finish closing up for the night, or well, the morning. She had told you to go ahead home though so that’s what you did.

As soon as you walked through your door you ripped your heels off your feet, trying to relieve the pain that had been building up all night. The job was great for the most part but you had to admit the heels requirement was a bitch.

Light was pouring through your curtains and all you wanted to do was go to sleep but you decided to do yourself a favour by showering and eating something first. You quickly rinsed the day off of you and then tackled what to eat. In all honesty you didn’t have much in the way of actual food. You were broke, hence the bartending gig at No Exit. You essentially lived on pop-tarts, ramen, and cereal. You opted for cereal, eating it quickly and then crawling into your bed.

Your body ached in places you didn’t even know it could, but hey, at least you got five-hundred dollars on top of your other tips and the salary you were being paid. No Exit, all things considered, was a pretty good gig. Most places certainly didn’t pay their bartenders a living wage on top of the ridiculously good tips they made.

You fell asleep almost as soon as your head hit the pillow, secure in the fact that you now had a way to pay your rent. The last thing you thought about as you drifted off, however, was not the money you had made tonight, but a pair of warm brown eyes that seemed like they looked into your soul.

——————————————————————

When you woke up the next day the clock read 2pm. You groaned at the sight, still hating your new schedule. Working from 7pm to 4am every night is just so unnatural to you. You’d been a bartender for a while, sure, but you had mostly worked at sports bars during the days. Now you had six hours to kill before your shift started and no idea what to do.

You hopped in the shower and got ready for the day but that still only ate up 45 minutes. You tried to read a book but couldn’t focus. All you ended up doing was re-reading the same sentence on repeat.

You were on what was probably your tenth attempt at getting through a page when you heard your phone ring. You put your book down and reached for the phone, checking who was calling. Darby was printed across the screen and you answered immediately. “Hey Darby, what’s up?” you asked her.

“Hey y/n, not much. I just thought I’d check in on you after your first shift,” she answered.

“I appreciate it,” you said. “I’m good, it wasn’t bad,” you told her, hearing her laugh at that.

“You killed it,” Darby said. “Ash was very impressed.” You paused at the mention of Ash, mind flashing to your new boss who you happened to think was the hottest man you’d ever seen.

“You talked to Ash about me?” you asked her.

“He made it a point to tell me he thought you were a good addition to the club before he left last night,” she explained.

“Oh,” you said, trying to keep your cool. “Well that was nice of him.”

“In fact,” she added, “he wants you to work the VIP section permanently.” You were silent at that, shocked by what she had just told you.

“I thought the club was at its limit for VIP bartenders,” you said, slightly nervous at the prospect of bartending in the VIP section permanently.

“It was, but we just fired Laurie so a spot’s opened up,” Darby told you.

“You fired someone for being sick?” you asked her, horrified at the thought.

“Of course I didn’t fire someone for being sick,” she defended herself. “I fired someone for leaving work sick more than half her shifts because she kept getting drunk on the club’s alcohol which she a) drank on the job and b) stole from the bar,” she explained.

“Okay, well that’s valid then,” you replied, eating your words.

“I thought so too,” she said before taking a pause. “Anyways, will you take the VIP job or not?” Darby asked.

You thought about it for a moment, unsure if you wanted to commit to serving rich people all day every day. But in the end, you couldn’t turn down how nice the paycheck was and so you answered her with, “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Great,” Darby said, seeming genuinely pleased by your answer. “Now that you’ve agreed to take the job I’m gonna need you to come in at around five tonight. We have to restock and make sure everything looks good. I’d rather do it with you than anyone else.”

“I’ll be there!” you said, excited that your boredom would soon be cured. You heard Darby laugh at that.

“Bored?” she said knowingly.

“You have no idea,” you said in agreement.

“Oh trust me, I do. I was the same way when I started working these hours, you get used to it though,” she assured you.

“I certainly hope so,” you replied.

“Anyways, I have to go but I’ll see you in a couple of hours,” Darby said.

“See you then,” you said in farewell and with that you hung up. You put your phone down and went to figure out what to wear for work, wanting to look good. As you searched through your clothes, you tried not to think about why you cared so much about what you looked like tonight.

——————————————————

You walked into the club, emptier than you had ever seen it since it was currently closed. The door swung shut behind you, the sound echoing through the deserted bar. You heard the clacking of heels coming from the back room and you moved towards the sound.

“Hey!” Darby called out to you as she entered the room, “you made it.”

“I did,” you said, walking towards her. “You know, I think this is the most silent I’ve ever heard a bar,” you told her as you reached the doorway.

“Yeah, it’s almost peaceful,” Darby agreed. “It’s one of the reasons I love stocking the bar so much.”

“It’s soothing to me and I’ve only worked one shift so far. I can’t imagine how big of a headache you must have after working here for years,” you said with sympathy.

“It’s not so bad,” she said, “especially when working the VIP section.”

“You can say that again,” you agreed. “All I heard was the music from the lower level. They’re not the chattiest bunch,” you said as you and Darby moved to the back where the crates containing the alcohol to be restocked were sitting. “Honestly, it was a little eerie.”

“What can I say, us VIPs like our privacy. It requires a certain level of eerie silence,” a voice said jokingly from somewhere to the left of you. Your head snapped to the side and as the owner of the voice came into view you found yourself face to face with Ash. He was in a tight black t-shirt which showed off his biceps, black jeans, and black boots. His hair was slicked back like last night but with one strand hanging loosely and framing his face. His arms were crossed and he was leaning against a wall, one leg crossed over the other.

You stood there like a deer caught in headlights for what felt like forever but was probably only five seconds in reality. “I am so sorry if I offended you,” you said, holding your hands up in apology.

“Don’t worry, it takes more than that to offend me,” he assured you with a humorous smile on his face. “Besides,” he continued, walking closer, “the quiet is kind of creepy.” You laughed at that, and turned to look at Darby.

“See, I’m not the only one who thinks so,” you told her and she laughed at that.

“Alright,” Darby said, “should we get started?”

“Let’s do it,” Ash said, lifting a crate of whiskey from the stack and putting it on the floor.

“You’re helping us?” you asked him surprised, trying not to look at the way his muscles worked as he moved the crate.

“That surprises you?” he asked you.

“Kind of,” you confirmed. “You own the bar.”

“And that means I can’t help out with the leg work?” he questioned.

“No,” you defended, “but usually owners prefer not to.”

“Oh Ash detests owners who sit on their asses,” Darby interjected. “You try and tell him he doesn’t have to do the grunt work anymore and he takes personal offence.”

“It’s true, I’m a man of the people,” he said, bumping his arms against yours.

“How many times do I have to tell you that saying you’re a man of the people makes you sound less like a man of the people?” Darby asked him, shaking her head.

Ash held his hands up in surrender before saying, “You’re right, I’m sorry. I promise I do listen to some of the things you tell me.”

“Mhm,” Darby said, hands on her hips. With that, you guys began the work of actually unloading the crate, however, about one minute in, Darby’s phone began to ring. She looked at the screen and then looked at you and Ash in apology. “I’m so sorry, I have to take this,” she said.

“Go,” Ash said, waving her off. “Y/n and I have got this covered.” Darby gave you both a thumbs up as she started to back up before turning on her heel and exiting the room.

“So,” Ash began. “I’ll unload the crates and you can mark down how many bottles are going to the bars?” he asked.

“Works for me,” you said, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “So,” you said looking at him, “are you adverse to colour or something?” you asked, motioning to his all black ensemble in an attempt to make conversation.

“Says the one who is also in all black,” he shot back.

“It’s your dress code!” you said with a laugh.

“Well, you’ve got me there,” he admitted, laughing along with you.

“I do have to admit I feel a little overdressed right now,” you said referring to your black dress and heels as you began to count the bottles he was handing you.

“Yeah,” he said. “Darby probably should’ve told you that when you’re coming in to help set up you can just wear whatever and then change here.”

“That would’ve been appreciated,” you agreed. “Six inch heels are not your friend when doing set up.”

“So take them off,” Ash shrugged, handing you another bottle.

“Really?” you asked him.

“Knock yourself out,” he confirmed. He didn’t have to tell you twice, immediately bending over to undo the straps of your heels and slipping your feet free, unknowingly giving Ash an unobstructed view of your ass.

“Oh my god,” you moaned, feet screaming in relief as they met the cold ground. “You’re evil for instituting heels as part of the dress code,” you said glaring at him.

“In my defense, I never said they had to be six inches,” he defended himself.

“You have a point there,” you conceded. “I did kind of screw myself with that.”

“Why did you?” he questioned.

“Honestly,” you asked him and he nodded in assent. “They make my ass look great,” you explained with a laugh.

“They do,” he agreed with a head tilt. You raised your eyebrow in question as you looked at him and he shrugged at you, saying, “Hey, you said it first. All I did was agree with you.”

“I guess I can’t blame you for that,” you said, mouth upturned in a smile. What was happening? you thought to yourself. Were you seriously flirting with your boss right now? You shook your head slightly to snap yourself out of it, and returned to working. As you unpacked crates of whiskey and scotch, you looked pointedly at Ash. “You have an insane amount of whiskey and rum in these crates, I wonder why?”

“What can I say? People clearly like their whiskey and scotch,” he said mischievously.

“Or your VIP guys club likes to appear like big boys by drinking their strong manly drinks,” you countered.

“Or that,” Ash confirmed. “And for the record we do have two whole women that are a part of the VIPs.”

“Oh wow, two. Well I take my comment about it being a boys club back, you’re feminism is unmatched,” you said barely containing a laugh.

“Damn right it is,” he said, also laughing. You continued on working for a while, unpacking crates and checking them off as outgoing inventory. After what was probably an hour, Darby never having made a reappearance during this time, she finally entered the room again, phone still in hand.

“Ash, I’m sorry to bother you, I tried to sort this out myself but it needs your attention,” she said as she handed him the phone. He gave her a look you couldn’t decipher as he grabbed the phone and turned to you.

“Sorry, I have to deal with this. I’ll see you later tonight,” he said in parting, and as he left you could swear that you heard an angry tone to his voice pointed towards whoever was on the other end of the phone.

“Is everything okay?” you asked Darby, noting she looked a little stressed.

“It’s nothing,” she replied. “It’s just an issue with a client. Ash will get it sorted out.”

“As long as you’re sure,” you said.

“I am,” Darby confirmed, “but thank you for the concern. Anyways, let’s finish this so we can get ready to open.”

“Let’s do it,” you agreed. With that, you and Darby set out to finish your work before opening, a nervous excitement bubbling in your stomach at the thought of seeing Ash tonight.

NOTES: Hey everyone! I hope you liked the chapter! I know this one is slightly shorter than chapter 1 but I promise the chapters will be getting longer the further in we get!

[chaoticcreative14]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 6

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: If you're going to be stuck at Tommy Millers, may as well get to know him a bit better. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. WC: 4.4k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

TW: alcohol consumption, playing a drinking game, flirting, mutual pining, mentions of BDSM

You

Tommy wasn’t fucking kidding; this is by far the nicest shower you’ve ever been in. The warmth of the steam settles into your bones as the water hits you from three different gold chrome showerheads; a rainfall one above you, and two more along the wall. You make a mental note of the design in hopes that your dad will renovate your bathroom. You weren’t outside for long, but it was enough to drench you from head to toe, and the cold rain water mixed with the whipping wind was enough to chill every cell in your body. You use Tommy’s pine needle scented soap, and then reach for his shampoo and conditioner. You’re pretty sure Preston just used a bar of soap for everything. At this moment, there’s a crystal clear difference between a boy and a man; a boy has a single bar of soap and maybe a 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. A man, or at least this man has soap, a body wash, face wash, a loofah, shampoo, and conditioner. 

Unless… 

Is it possible that Tommy isn’t single? Based on what Kim told me about Joel’s past and how he only ever had subs…could the same be true for Tommy? Does he bring women out to his home in the middle of nowhere to dominate them?

The thought of letting a man have control of you makes your stomach turn. Preston was always trying to tell you what to do, who to see, what to wear. About three months into your relationship he started shushing you or cutting you off when you were speaking, and then in private he would tell you what he preferred you’d say in those situations. Your life was steered by your father and then controlled by your boyfriend for almost three years. As you run the sea salt scented conditioner through your hair, you start to think about how what Tommy does is different from what Preston was doing. This is an agreed-upon time and place where you’re told what to do sexually - maybe that is something you could be into. You’ve always prided yourself as being seen as strong and independent, especially after Preston nearly destroyed you. However, the truth of the matter is, when it comes to sex, you are anything but.

Thanks, Preston.

When you’re finally warm and clean, you dry off and put on the clothes Tommy left. You quietly open a few of the drawers looking for a comb or a brush. Again, you’re surprised to find leave-in conditioner, hair and beard oil, a brush, a comb, a plethora of hair products, and, since Tommy’s hair is long enough to need them, a few hair ties. You use the brush and a hair tie to gather your hair into a bun and then head downstairs. 

Tommy is sitting on the couch on the phone, the amber glow of the fire lighting up his face. He’s changed into black joggers and a faded Brooks and Dunn t-shirt. 

“Yeah, the entire road,” he says with a sigh and then mouths ‘your dad’ at you. “Yeah…Of course, Jim. I’m waiting to hear from the county about the damage, but I have lots of food so we’ll wait out the storm.”

You sit on the couch across from him, tucking one leg underneath you, hugging your other knee to your chest as Tommy listens to your dad. “I’ll let her know,” he says with a wicked grin, his eyes dancing mischievously along your face. “Alright, talk soon, bud.”

“Let me know what?” you ask, cocking your head at him.

His grin turns downright devious. “Your dad said to let you know that you are to stay here until the county has deemed the road safe for vehicular traffic.”

You grab one of the decorative pillows beside you and send it flying across the living room at him. “I bet you loved that.”

He tosses the pillow back at you. “Don’t ruin the place, I haven’t hired a maid yet.”

You roll your eyes for what feels like the one hundredth time today, but this time it’s to stop the laugh that’s bubbling up your chest. Tommy Miller is funny, and his sarcasm and smart ass remarks match yours. It’s refreshing to get to joke around with someone and not have to feel like the perfect, meek little house guest. For a second, you let yourself wonder what it would be like to be his girlfriend. The two of you laugh and poke fun at the other so easily, and then he was so soft and supportive in your mother’s butler’s pantry on the Fourth of July. His words from that night rattle around your skull.

“I know we don’t know each other well, but I’m always here.”

Yeah, as a boyfriend, Tommy would be absolutely perfect.

“Hungry?” He asks, pulling you from your thoughts. His phone rings and he pushes the button on the side to send the caller to voicemail. 

“Yes, and a little thirsty. I feel kinda weird asking for water,” You shrug, pulling the pillow that took flight across the room to your chest.

“You don’t need to feel weird about it,” he says, his lips curving into a small, reassuring smile. “You are welcome to anything. If asking is too much for you, you can just get what you need. Whatever is easier for you, sweetheart.” 

Your fingers play with the small zipper pull of the pillow cover. He continues softly when you don’t respond. “We might be here for a bit depending on how long it rains for. May as well make yourself at home.”

You glance towards his kitchen and then back at him and nod. It’s easier to get things for yourself; it always has been. A proper southern girl doesn't ask for things, after all. 

“How about you open the pantry and pick a wine from the cooler and I’ll get everything out to start making dinner?” he suggests. You nod in agreement. On the walk to the kitchen he declines a call again, his phone pings a familiar text tone a few seconds after, but he doesn’t look. You wonder who is calling him and why he keeps ignoring it. Is it an ex? Or maybe he does have a girlfriend? Or does he just want to focus his attention on you? That last thought sends an army of butterflies to riot in your stomach. 

The built-in wine cooler in the pantry is a bittersweet sight. Sweet because it’s full of wines you love: red, white, rose, champagne, all in their own temperature-controlled zone. Bitter because this should be a focal point of the dining room. However, with the big windows and natural light that shines through all day, you assume he had to sacrifice and keep it hidden. Your fingers run along the wrapped corks of the wine. The man you met at the gala didn’t seem like the type to own a corkscrew, nevermind have an entire collection of wines from around the world. 

You peek your head out from the pantry to see what Tommy’s making for dinner. He’s focused on what's in front of him, but as if he can sense you looking, he speaks. 

“Yes?” He asks, his voice lifting as he accentuates the “s”, moving fresh fruits into a strainer. 

“I can’t pick a wine unless I know what’s for dinner,” you laugh, taking in the different meats and cheeses on the island. Your eyes light up. “Oh my god, are we having girl dinner?” 

“It’s going to be a charcuterie board, brat,” Tommy deadpans, keeping his attention on the strawberries, grapes and raspberries as he runs them under water. 

Being called a brat by your dad’s best friend shouldn’t send a thrill down your spine that settles in between your thighs - but it does, and your lack of panties certainly isn’t helping the situation. 

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Miller,” you joke, the huff of Tommy’s sigh following you back to the wine cooler.

Over the next thirty minutes, Tommy meticulously sets everything onto the wooden board, declines yet another phone call, and brings the food out on the coffee table. You’re on the couch with your glass of wine, another on the table for him. You had offered to help cut up cheese or build the board, but after his refusal and you saying “who knew big, tough Tommy Miller was a girl dinner expert”, he grabbed you by the shoulders, spun you around and led you to the couch with a gravel-filled command to “sit, you little hellraiser”. It shouldn’t make you so happy to pester him, and it definitely shouldn’t make you even happier when he gives it back or takes it with a laugh, but it does. It really fucking does. 

“Ok, I take it back. This board is way too beautiful to be classified as ‘girl dinner’,” you gasp, making little air quotes. “You made prosciutto roses. It’s too pretty to eat!”

He raises an eyebrow at you, sitting a cushion down from you on the couch. “If you plan to keep drinking wine, you are going to eat.”

“Yes, sir,” you reply cheekily.

Tommy clears his throat in response. “What?” you ask when he says nothing.

“N-nothing, I’m going to grab napkins.” He stands a little too quickly for whatever you said in the last few minutes to be normal. You slide from the one corner of the three-sided sectional towards the middle, mostly to be able to reach the food easily, but also because you wouldn’t mind being closer to your dad’s friend. When Tommy returns, he sits beside you and turns the volume up on the episode of the sitcom you have on. 

It’s relatively silent as you eat, the two of you laughing in tandem at the jokes on the TV. You’ve never been allowed to enjoy a dinner like this, casual and fun. If you were at home right now, you’d be sitting at the dining room table, eating a meal your mom didn’t prepare, but did spend way too much money on. The two of them would never have more than one glass of wine each. Even though you’re far past milk-drinking age, there would be a small glass of milk at your spot that you’d be expected to finish before leaving the table. 

The first bottle of wine goes down easily between you and Tommy, and after cleaning up dinner, the second bottle is cracked. You click the volume down slightly. You’re not sure if it’s the wine or being around Tommy, but you’re full of nervous energy and the television is no longer working as a distraction.

“Let’s play a game or something,” you say as Tommy fills your glass. The Pinot Grigio sparkles like yellow diamonds as it flows from the bottle.

“Like what?” he asks, his voice thick with skepticism.

“Hmmm…” You look around the living room shelves, not a deck of cards or any sort of board game in sight. You’ll have to get creative. Your eyes land on your wine glass. “Oh! I know. Let’s play a drinking game.”

Tommy turns towards you, one arm resting on the back of the couch. “A drinking game?”

“Yeah, we say a statement about the other one and if it’s true the other person drinks, if it’s false then you have to drink. I think it was in Game of Thrones, but whatever, it’s fun!”

He raises an eyebrow and time seems to slow as his tongue peeks out from between his lips to wet them. Thank goodness for the large hoodie or he’d see the way your nipples instantly pebbled in hopes of getting to feel just how warm and soft his tongue really is. 

Fuck, that shouldn’t be hot.  

“Alright, sweetheart. You go first then,” He slides back into the corner of his side of the couch and then you do the same on your end. Both of you put your feet up. The couch is fairly long, but in this position your feet could brush against his if you wanted.

“You’ve never been in a long term relationship,” you state. Without hesitation, he takes a drink of his wine.

“You don’t like being told you can’t do something,” he replies and you drink a mouthful of your wine.

“That was obvious,” you say with a smirk. He raises one of his broad shoulders in a shrug.

Don’t classify his shoulders as broad.

When you don’t say your next one, he speaks. “Your turn.”

“I’m thinking, relax,” you rush out, shaking yourself from your thoughts “Oh! You don’t like being called sir, which is why you jumped up for napkins.”

He stares at you intensely for a second, the wheels turning behind his eyes, almost as if he’s unsure if he should lie or not in his response. After a few seconds too many he says, “Drink, hellraiser.”

You glare jokingly at him as you take a sip of wine, his eyes trained on you the entire time. 

“Is this a sipping game or a drinking game?” He challenges. You take a bigger drink of your wine, hoping for praise. You watch as his eyes slide to your throat as you swallow, then back up to your own eyes as he continues playing the game. “You aren’t used to people taking care of you and that’s why you shut down outside my room.”

It’s your turn to stare at him now, and your eyes dance around his face. It’s pitch black outside now, just the amber glow of the fire and the butter yellow light of one lamp to highlight his features. The rain has slowed but still taps soothingly against the glass as it falls. 

He’s right - no one takes care of you like that. Instead, everyone has always just told you what to do and then leaves you to deal with it or to spiral out of control. 

But not Tommy. 

He asked. He supported and understood. He didn’t rub it in your face when you failed. Instead, he wrapped you in a towel and asked you to stay for him. With a shaky hand, you bring your glass to your lips and take a drink. As you do, his foot shifts to touch yours and you feel that urge to curl up on his lap again.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and he sends it to voicemail again. 

“You have a phobia of phone calls,” you state, trying to lighten the mood. 

It works, a laugh bubbles from Tommy’s throat. “No, it’s one of my business partners. She’s decided she’s throwing me a birthday party, even though I’m too old for parties, and it’s still four months away. She wants me to answer a bunch of questions.”

“Ah, well, I guess I drink then!” You take a mouthful of wine, your glass nearly empty now. “I think you should do burlesque.”

He slides forward, keeping the foot that’s touching yours glued to you, and refills your wine glass. “I would, but I’m not a fan of how I look in pasties and corsets.”

His joke catches you by surprise and you throw your head back in a laugh. It’s the loud, happy, kind of laugh that Preston used to hate, especially when it would result in a little snort in the middle. Tommy only laughs with you, and then laughs harder when you do indeed snort. 

When you both have yourselves under control, you dab your eyes with the sleeve of the hoodie and say, “I meant for your party. I assume you’re doing it at the club. From what Kim told me, it could be the perfect theme.”

“You know about the club?” he says, topping up his wine glass.

You shrug. “A little bit. She just told me it’s not what you’d expect inside, but I’ve also been there before, Tommy.”

His gaze whips to yours. “What? When?”

“I was a topless waitress at a poker game.” You are suddenly very aware that you are braless right now.

His eyebrows furrow. “I was at that poker game. I don’t know how to feel about this.”

“Well, clearly we didn’t interact with one another, because I didn’t know you at the gala, and from what I gather, you didn’t know me either. So, I guess we don’t really have to feel any way about it.” You flex your ankle forwards, rubbing your foot against his once. 

“Fair enough,” he says, but just before he takes a drink of his wine, he stops with a smirk. “You read a lot of romance books.”

You glare again and take a big mouthful of wine. He definitely hit the nail on the head with that one. “You read a lot of boring business books.”

“Drink,” he says, raising an eyebrow cockily. 

“You don’t know how to read?” you joke.

“That’s two drinks, you want to go double or nothing?”

You should stop; this entire game was a bad idea, but outright flirting with your dad’s friend is worse. Unfortunately, you’re fluent in smart ass and sarcasm. Plus, you’re an Aries.

“The woodworking section of the bookstore hates to see you coming?” you guess.

Tommy laughs and shakes his head. “Drink the entire glass and I’ll show you exactly what I read, hellraiser.”

You don’t need to be told twice. The Pinot Grigio you picked out for tonight goes down easily. You finish the glass with a dramatic ‘aaah’ sound, and then Tommy refills it and stands. You follow him to the only area of the home he didn’t take you in: his office, which he told you wouldn’t need to be cleaned.

He opens one of the frosted glass doors. His desk is straight ahead and when you look to your right, both walls are lined floor-to-ceiling with bookshelves, complete with rolling ladders to help you reach the thousands of books that fill them. At the end of the room is another large window, and a cozy, oversized armchair with an arched lamp above it.

Your breath hitches. This is the dream. A library in a gorgeous log cabin in the woods with an even more gorgeous man to share it with. You start to feel like maybe there was a bigger reason you met Tommy.

Tommy

He watches the way your eyes light up at all the books, waiting for you to realize the genre of most of them. He’s been collecting books for years; not that he’s read every single one he owns, but as a kid he thought having a library in your house meant you had really made it. So, when he moved from building standard homes and into constructing mansions, he found himself with some disposable income and started collecting special editions. 

“I see business books,” you state.

“I believe your statement was ‘you read a lot of business books’. That’s just one shelf among many.”

He stands in the center of the large room as you walk along the far wall of shelves. You slide a book off the shelf and turn to him, the biggest grin on your face as you hold up what you’ve found. “You really did find the one woodworking book available!” 

He gestures around the room. “Did you expect a man who built a log cabin not to have a woodworking book?”

“Touché,” you respond, placing the book back.

As you reach the end of the first set of bookcases, your eyes trail up the metal spiral staircase in front of one of the windows. “That leads to the walk-in closet in my bedroom.”

“Interesting. Why?”

“I work a lot, plus, there’s the reading space up there and it’s just closer this way.”

“Not just a pretty face, are ya?” you deadpan and walk towards his favourite wall of books. You suck in a breath when you realize what you’re looking at. “These are romance novels.”

“You sound surprised,” he says, still rooted in the middle of the room as you walk up along the other side of the library. 

“I am. Have you read all of these?”

“No,” he says with a quiet laugh. “Maybe one day, but I don’t get to read as often as I’d like to.”

“Why romance novels?” you ask. He watches the way your slender fingers trail along the spines of his books, wishing it was his skin you were touching instead. He wonders if you know how much it kills him when you’re just being you. From peeking out the pantry at him tonight, to the little snort when he made you laugh. You’re intoxicating, and he finds himself constantly reminding himself that he can’t have you. 

He shifts his weight, burying one hand in the pocket of his sweat pants and taking a sip of his wine while he contemplates how to answer you, how raw and honest he should be. “I have watched a lot of heartbreak in my life; it’s why I’ve never had a long term relationship and stick to being a dom. That doesn’t mean that I don’t feel lonely sometimes. I use those books as a way to feel connected to something.”

You turn around to face him, your features soft, your lips - which are usually painted a matte red - parted slightly. His heart leaps into his throat at how real you look right now. Your curves swimming in his clothes, your hair now down, air dried and flipped to the side. Your face is make-up free, a small freckle noticeable above your lip. Your expression is curious; bright green eyes wide and encouraging, so he continues.

“Not that I don’t have people I’m connected to,” he explains. “I definitely do, just not in that way. I guess it’s human nature to feel like maybe you’re missing out, even if it’s something you don’t envision for yourself.”

Tommy watches as you walk towards his desk chair, sitting as you say, “That makes sense. We only get one life, but a million options and opportunities, and how do we know if we’ve picked the right one if we can’t go back and try the other? We’ll always wonder what the other options would be like.” He smiles at you softly and you continue, “Thank you for telling me that.”

He nods, then takes another sip of his wine before saying, “Thank you for making me feel comfortable enough to say it.” 

He can’t explain the ease of conversation between the two of you. One minute you’re jabbing at one another, and the next you’re pulling his darkest secrets out of him. It’s just never been this easy before. 

He watches as you pick up a paper on his desk, your eyes trailing down the document. It slowly begins to register what you’re looking at, and it becomes hard for him to breathe.

You look over the paper at him mischievously. “What is this?”

“Absolutely not,” he states firmly. 

Nothing could have prepared him for your response, and it’s almost enough to give him a heart attack. Your voice turns syrupy as you hum, “Remember how I don’t like being told what to do?”

He says your full name, first and last, lowering his voice slightly, “You are not filling that out.”

Your hand reaches for a pen from the cup on his desk as you read aloud. “JMKink checklist for new members. Check off everything you’ve done, or are interested in doing, using the respective boxes. Submissives and Dominates with similar sexual fantasies will be matched via our world-leading algorithm.”

“Don’t you dare,” he grits out, his voice sounding like sandpaper as you hold the pen above the first page.

“Why?” you challenge.

“Because, you’re…you! And my friend's daughter,” he sputters, desperately trying to remind himself - yet again - that this cannot happen, no matter how badly he wants it. No matter how many times his mind wanders to the fact that you aren’t wearing a bra right now. 

Or panties, he reminds himself and then immediately shuts it out. Your lips part as the rim of the wine glass meets them. He catches a glimpse of your tongue before you take a drink, effectively ruining what he was just trying to push out of his mind. 

“Who said I’m filling it out for you?” Your voice is saccharine sweet and coated in innocence.

“Has anyone ever told you that your eyes give you away? I can tell by the look on your face that you’re up to no good, sweetheart.”

You tap the pen on the desk a few times, keeping your eyes locked on his, and fuck, he never wants you to look away. You blink and then take a deep inhale and slowly exhale, putting the pen behind your ear. You stand, taking the paper and your wine glass with you. 

“I’m taking this and going to bed. Do you mind which room I sleep in?”

Mine, preferably. 

“Stop being a brat and put that paper back on my desk.” He mentally nails his feet to the floor. If he moves now, he’ll do what he’s been itching to do since you locked him out of your Jeep earlier. He’ll bend you over that desk and spank you until your cheeks are tattooed with the shape of his hand, then make you read the entire checklist out loud while rubbing your clit, teasing and taunting, making you start over when you stumble and only letting you come when you had finished reading every last word. 

You wander to the still-open door, glancing seductively over your shoulder and whisper, “Good night, sir.” He tries to school his face, but it’s too late; he knows by the raise of the corner of your mouth that you tracked the nearly infinitesimal flare in his eyes as his preferred dom name left your lips. “Now whose eyes are giving them away?”

He stands frozen, straining his ears to hear as you pad up the stairs. When the click of the bedroom door reaches him, he starts counting backwards from one hundred to calm himself. He can’t be trusted to not go up there and break down the door so he can finally get his lips on you. 

[chaoticcreative14]

Maid Discreetly - Chapter 5

Tommy Miller x Female OC (18+ only)

Story Summary: After what he did to your best friend, fuck Joel Miller and the horse he rode in on! But a twist of fate has you falling for his brother, who is also your dad’s friend. Oh, and did you mention that you hate him? Can love really conquer all, or should you just settle for kinky hot sex with an older man? Chapter Summary: Mother Nature has other plans for you first client onboard, but it can't really be that bad being "stuck" with Tommy Miller. AN: Trigger warnings are underneath the cut in small red letters to avoid spoilers. Please remember to follow @mountainsandmayhem-updates for all future chapters. Divders by @saradika-graphics. As always thank you to @lotusbxtch and @for-a-longlongtime for helping me expand on my ideas and add all my punctuation xo. And, thank you to this anon who reminded me that I had dates on chapters still. Thanks to them, you're getting 2 chapters in one day. WC: 4.2k

Story Masterlist || My Masterlist || Joel and Kim

TW: rained in trope, flirting, mutual pining, thunder/lightening and rain. Really nothing to be aware of, they're just dumb and falling in love - let them be!!!!

You

Your drive out to Tommy’s is uneventful; singing along to nineties Shania Twain kept you occupied during your trek. Due to the timing of your drive, more people were coming into Austin than going out. Summer is in full bloom now as July starts to turn into August. At this point in the year, the rolling hills around the highway are covered by full green trees. Eventually, the foliage opens up to reveal the popular lake communities about 30 minutes outside of downtown. 

Even though dark clouds have started to crowd the skies, the AC in your custom cherry red Jeep isn’t doing much to stifle the heat. This morning, you debated if you should take your Bentley or not, but with the chance of rain for the first time in months, and driving outside of the city, the Jeep seemed safer; plus, you know the moment it starts to rain, everyone will have forgotten how to drive.

Soon you see the sign you’ve been looking for - “Rancher’s Cove: Next Right”. Tommy’s new home is built in the latest development near Lake Travis. You turn off the paved highway onto a poorly packed gravel road. You thank your earlier self for settling on taking the Jeep as dust blows up around you and rocks crunch under your oversized tires as you bump along the road. Tall coniferous trees line the path, blocking the heat of the sun and casting you in shadows. After following a bend, the trees open wide, revealing a man-made lake and one single log cabin at the furthest end. You and Tommy are completely secluded here; no other homes have even started construction. 

You did a bit of research on the area, so you’re prepared with both flats and heels. Mentally, you decide the flats are best; you’ll change into the company-issued white Keds when you get into his house. You kept it professional today, wearing black wide legged slacks and a red short sleeve bodysuit with a matching thin red belt. Your laptop is tucked into your computer bag on the passenger seat. 

You follow the gravel ring road around the lake, and as you pull up to the impressive home, you notice Tommy sitting on the porch with a guitar, looking effortlessly handsome in dark jeans, a fitted white t-shirt and well-worn work boots. His sleeves clings deliciously to his biceps, and as his strong hands pluck at the strings, the sinew and tattoos that line his arm dance. 

Well, fuck, you quip internally. You haven’t even put your Jeep in park yet and you’ve already had an inappropriate thought about your dad’s friend. As you step out of the vehicle, he rests the guitar against the house, pushing back his cheekbone-length hair as he stands and heads over to you. 

“You made it!” His voice is friendly, like you’ve known each other for years and he’s been sitting there waiting anxiously for you. 

“Am I late?” you ask, slightly panicked, glancing at the Tiffany watch your mom and dad gave you as a graduation gift. You don’t wear it often, only as your good luck charm. The black leather band connects to a round face that’s surrounded by small diamonds. The twelve is denoted by a delicate heart made from a ruby, and white diamonds of different shapes make up the rest of the numbers. 

9:57

“No,” he says, stopping at the bottom of his porch steps, “not at all.”

As you open the passenger door to grab the Louis Vuitton bag that holds your laptop, you remember what he said outside your dad’s home office almost a month ago. He doesn’t feel like he fits into the excessive wealth that you’re surrounded by. Shame licks at the base of your spine for showing up in a custom-painted Jeep and a watch that probably costs more than people make in a year. You always knew that you came from money, but you’ve never realized how excessive it was until meeting Tommy. He reaches out to grab the bag from you, a gesture of chivalry, but it feels wrong to hand it to him.

“I got it. Thanks, though.” He smiles and then gestures towards the porch. “This home is absolutely beautiful, Tommy.”

He smiles sheepishly. “It’s kind of excessive.”

“No, it’s stunning.” The gravel crunches under your flats as you walk alongside him towards the porch. “I can’t wait to see the inside.”

“After you, then,” he says before you ascend the stairs.

You stop when you reach the two large wooden front doors, each with a colourful glass mosaic inlay. Tommy opens one and you hold in a gasp as he leads you into the open concept foyer. Straight ahead are large floor-to-ceiling windows that are easily twenty feet tall. The man-made lake sparkles in the small glimpses of sun through the clouds. A wooden dining room table sits just before the windows, the kitchen to the right; stainless steel appliances that blend seamlessly into the wooden walls and cabinetry. His countertops are made of dark chestnut brown granite swirled with silver. To the left of the table is a massive eggshell sectional couch facing a fireplace embedded with rock, a large flat screen tv mounted above it. 

Your eyes travel up the tall rock chimney to a catwalk style hallway up in the wooden beams of the space. You follow the hallway to a staircase to your right. Your eyes travel to the opposite side of the house again; it’s so beautiful and there’s so much to see that you almost feel almost overstimulated by it. Two frosted mosaic glass doors on your left close in one of the only rooms on this floor. The floors are all wood, matching the walls of the log cabin. Plush, off white area rugs are thoughtfully placed under the dining room table and tv area, making the spaces feel cozy and homey.

“Tommy,” you whisper, following him towards the dining room table. “This is - I mean, wow. I’m speechless.”

One of his hands moves from his hip to cup the back of his neck, rubbing at it sheepishly, but there’s a hint of pride in his voice when he responds. “Thank you. It’s taken me a long time.”

“You built this?” you gape, dumbfounded, forcing yourself to focus on him and not look around again.

He chuckles at your response. “Yeah, it’s kind of my job, remember?”

“Right, duh,” you backpedal and then cringe. Smooth. “So, I guess we should get started. Would you mind giving me a tour of the areas you’d like us to handle? I’ll take some notes and then we can discuss further and get the contract together.”

“Sure, let me put your stuff down and we can walk around.” He holds his hand out again for your bag. As you let it slide down your arm, your Keds that were hooked onto your fingers hit the hardwood with a soft thud in front of his dining room table. 

“Shit. I’m supposed to - Oh my God, I just swore. I’m so sorry,” you stutter, passing your bag to him then scooping up the shoes and scrambling back towards the door. 

“It’s really okay,” Tommy says. “The shoes, I mean; the swearing was unacceptable.” You spin to apologize again, a horrified look across your face, to see him laughing. 

“That’s not funny, Tommy,” you say with a slight pout. “I want to do this properly, like we didn’t know one another.”

His thumb and forefinger smooth his moustache. “Well, I certainly hope you wouldn’t drive out to the middle of nowhere to meet a strange man.”

You slip your flats off at the front door and then pull your Keds on. You smirk as you tease, “How long do you have to know someone before they aren’t classified as a stranger? Because one could argue that that is exactly what I’m doing right now.”

Tommy’s hands land dramatically on his chest. “You wound me, sweetheart.”

You both let out a laugh and once your shoes are on, he saunters towards the kitchen. You grab your notepad and pen from the side of your bag before meeting him there.

“Mister Miller, is it?” you joke, putting on an air of professionality. “If you wouldn’t mind, please elaborate on what we at Maid Discreetly can do for you.”

“You’re an idiot,” he laughs, his voice playful. Preston called you that exact name multiple times, but it never made your heart skip like it did just now.

“Huh, that’s probably going to cost you extra,” you quip. The two of you laugh again and it all feels so normal, like you’ve been joking together for years. “Ok, seriously. Talk to me about what you’re looking for.”  

“Me, seriously? You’re the one swearing.” You shoot him a facetious glare before he continues. “I plan to be out here fairly often. I have an apartment in downtown Austin, but I think I’ll be out here four or five nights each week, so maybe someone can come out once a week and split the tasks up?” You can feel him watching you as you make notes.

“What kind of tasks are you looking for?” you ask, tucking your long hair behind your ear then pushing the curled ends over your shoulder. There’s a brief flick of his golden honey eyes to the side of your newly exposed throat and then back to your face before he starts to talk again. You wonder if he knows the effect that simple shift of his eyes has on women. 

“I’m a pretty tidy guy, but someone who could deep clean the kitchen, dust, and vacuum the main floor every week would be ideal.” You follow him as he walks past the dining table and into the living room. “Maybe they could also do baseboards and at least change over or start laundry? Is that too much for someone?”

“No,” you smile, following him towards the living area. “That’s pretty standard.”

He nods. “I have everything they’d need here, or they can bring their own supplies.”

It might be a small thing to some, but Tommy saying ‘they’ when talking about his future maid instead of ‘her’ or ‘she’ is so refreshing and beautiful. There is a good mix of men and women that work as cleaners, but more often than not, people assume it’s all women.

“Usually each cleaner is equipped with whatever they’ll need, but if you’d prefer, they can use your things.” You say, fluffing the throw pillows on his couch. When you catch him eyeing you you shrug, “Habit.”

“Let's go upstairs,” Tommy says with a laugh, avoiding your eyes this time, almost as if it’s too personal or intimate to look at you when talking about showing you his bedroom. He comes to an abrupt halt when he faces the windows, and you almost run right into the back of him. “Shit, it’s getting really dark out there.” 

You take a few steps around him, getting as close as you can to the window and look up at the sky. Dark grey clouds now completely crowd the sun; it looks like the floodgates could open at any minute. “Good thing I drove my Jeep.”

“I don’t know,” he starts, and you become very aware of how closely he’s standing behind you. “It doesn't look like it’s going to be ‘a little rain’ like they predicted.” His voice is thick with worry. “Maybe you should go, try to beat the storm.”

You want to tell him that you didn’t drive all the way out here to not get the sale and let your dad down, but instead you play it cool. 

“I’ve driven in a rainstorm before, Tommy. Let's get the tour done and we can discuss pricing another time. We can do that part virtually or whatever is easiest for you. I’ll be fine.” As those last three words leave your lips, you turn to face him; just as your back is to the window the room lights up before a loud crack of thunder rattles the house. You let out a squeal of shock, jumping closer to Tommy - you’re almost pressed against him. Your heartbeat races and adrenaline courses through your veins, then you laugh at yourself.

“I’ll be fine,” Tommy mocks in a high-pitched voice, joining in your laughter but not stepping away.

“It startled me,” you joke, pushing at Tommy’s chest. 

“Real tough girl, hey?” He says, raising an eyebrow when your shove does nothing. 

You scoff, “Relax, old man. I could take you in a fight.”

Tommy

He chuckles, shaking his head as he turns and starts to walk towards the stairs. The words come out before he can stop them. “Good thing I’m about to show you my bedroom then.”

Fuck.

Before he can apologize, or dig himself a large hole, or wander right into the man-made lake outside, you speak up. Your voice is full of sarcasm as you say, “Ah, so saying ‘shit’ is not okay, but being a dirtbag is. Noted.”

“That was inappropriate. I’m sorry,” he says, not looking back as you follow him up the first few stairs because he can’t stop the ear to ear smile that’s plastered itself across his face. Your wit and banter never ceases to keep him on his toes. 

“I have so many things I could say back,” you reply, “but I am clearly the mature one here, so let's just move on.” You’re both silent as you climb the stairs and when you get to the top, it’s raining so hard that you almost can’t see the lake he’s still contemplating jumping into.

“Whoa, it’s really coming down all of a sudden,” he says. When he looks in your direction, your bottom lip has disappeared between your teeth as you stare out the window at the large puddles forming along the gravel roads. 

You nod. “Yeah, well, let’s make this quick, I guess.”

He leads you across the catwalk. “There’s two bedrooms with an adjoining bathroom on the other side, but since they’re empty, someone can go in there once a month.” He glances back at you, but you seem slightly distracted and he hopes it’s not from his ill-timed joke. Once you both make it across the catwalk, you stop outside the master bedroom. He slides open one of the two barn doors and you both step into the seating area of the bedroom, his bedroom. Two oversized leather chairs - perfect for reading or drinking his morning coffee - sit in the middle, a wooden arch behind them opens to the bedroom. Straight ahead is a king size bed; to the untrained eye, the frame is beautiful and ornate, but it’s full of spots for him to restrain whoever he decides to bring here. The entry to his large bathroom and the walk-in closet are to the left. Inside his closet is a spiral staircase leading down to his office on the main floor. He doesn’t plan to show you that since he won’t need cleaners there.  

The far right wall of the bedroom has big windows, just like the main floor. Rain bounces off the glass loudly and he watches as you wander towards the window to look out. Even though he built this house for himself, he went into autopilot mode while designing it. It’s meant to be lived in by a husband and wife and their two kids. That was never something he saw for himself, but seeing you in his bedroom has what could be flashing before his eyes. You shake him out of it when you finally speak.

“Is that a bathtub?” you ask, looking down at what he knows is a small outdoor sauna and bathing area. The trees surrounding the walkway and tub are tall enough that the only way for someone to see it is through the windows in his bedroom or the stairwell from the office to the closet. 

“I figured it was a nice touch,” he says nonchalantly, coming to stand beside you.

“This house is spectacular, Tommy,” you breathe, glancing up at him. “Truly. I keep looking around and I can’t believe that you built all this. You’re incredibly talented.”

He feels the pink rise in his cheeks. He knows he’s done a good job when the homes he’s built sell for seven or eight figures; the men on the job site don’t praise him like you have. He runs a finger across one of his eyebrows as he responds. “I had help.”

“Oh, well then I’m less impressed,” you respond with your signature wit and sarcasm, one corner of your mouth lifting enticingly. “Let’s recap and talk about pricing. Hopefully the rain slows down and then I can be out of your hair.” 

 The two of you head back towards the kitchen, sitting side by side at the island to go over your notes and come up with pricing. The conversation is strictly business, but whenever you look down at your laptop, his eyes immediately go to your lips. He remembers the way you looked at him in your parents’ pantry, so sad and full of self doubt; that’s not the woman he sees now. This version of you is confident and knowledgeable. He hopes that maybe he said something to help you, although you don’t seem like the type of girl who needs help with anything.

You jump again when another loud crack of thunder sounds. He keeps his comments to himself this time, too enthralled by watching you talk to interrupt you. He knew when you stepped out of that Jeep today that it didn’t matter how much you asked for. He might not be as well-off as your family or Joel, but he’s fortunate enough that he doesn’t have to think about money. He was signing this contract either way. You type in the final details and tell him that you’ll send it to him to sign in the next few days. 

“It’s still really coming down,” he notes as you slip your feet into your flats. “Maybe you should just wait it out a bit longer. I can make coffee or something.” The meeting overall was fairly quick, only about an hour and a half, but it’s been pouring down sheets of rain the entire time.  

“I think it’s slowed down a bit. I’ll be fine, Tommy,” you say, smiling up at him as you slip on your flats. “Thank you for your concern, but you really don’t need to be.”

Always the gentleman, he opens the front door for you, revealing conditions that are so much worse than he expected. There’s no more gravel driveway, no more road leading to the other side of the man-made lake, nothing to get you safely from his home at the end of Rancher’s Cove to the properly paved highway. No, it's all just a muddy, slippery disaster. 

“You’re staying here,” Tommy says and starts to close the door. You put your hand out and then step onto the porch. 

“It’ll be fine, Tommy,” you repeat, an edge of annoyed determination in your voice. Your arm waves in the direction of your vehicle. “I have a Jeep, this is literally what they do.”

“There’s no road!” he exclaims, following you out on the porch. He grabs your wrist and you turn to look at him. “It’s literally a swamp out here. I half expect Shrek to show up and yell at us.”

He watches you roll your eyes and his grip tightens on the delicate skin of your wrist. He can feel your quickening rising pulse along his thumb. Is his touch the reason for your increased heart rate? 

“That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard,” your voice is flat and determined as you continue, “Look, it’s not that far, the highway is, like, right there. The rain isn’t letting up. I can’t get stuck here.”

You twist free from his grasp, then remove your watch and put it in a zipper pocket of your bag. He watches as you hug your laptop tight to your body before you take off running towards your Jeep. By some miracle, you don’t slip in the thick mud that's become the ground. Tommy knows this isn’t a good idea and thanks his lucky stars that the tractor he used to haul all his building materials around is still here; his vintage mustang that’s parked in the garage certainly isn’t making it out of here when he inevitably needs to rescue you. Your headlights kick on as you start the engine and he leans against the railing with his arms crossed.

Stubborn little thing, he thinks to himself as the red Jeep backs up through the muck to turn around. He can see that when it comes to you, he’s going to have to make it your idea to do what he wants. He hasn’t had a challenge in a sub in a long time; maybe that could be you. 

As you pull forward, the muck takes you, sliding your car towards what used to be his grass and is now his very own mini bayou. You hop out, mud splashing up your pants, and look around the Jeep. Within seconds of being out in the rain that you proclaimed was slowing down you’re drenched from head to toe, clothes sticking to your body and your waterlogged dark hair dripping. 

“Get back inside, sweetheart,” Tommy calls over the sound of the rain splashing. He knows by the defiant stiffening of your spine that you heard him, but you jump back into the Jeep and start to rock it back and forth in hopes of getting yourself out of the rut. Mud and his newly laid sod spit up behind your rear tires. Tommy shakes his head as he heads back inside, grabbing a few large bath sheets from the closet in his office; fluffy white towels meant for the sauna that will now be ruined from all the mud you’ve collected. 

After a few minutes of trying to get unstuck, you only manage to dig yourself deeper into the hole. There was no leaving today, he knew it and you probably knew it too. Be that as it may, you just proved to him that you don’t like being told you can’t do something, and fuck do you look cute all flustered as you try to prove yourself. Finally, you swing the driver's door open. The bottom of your black pants are caked in mud, he can tell your shoes are ruined, and the curve hugging red t-shirt is even tighter. As you hop out of the vehicle his eyes are drawn to the way your nipples have pebbled in the cold rain. 

Don’t look at her nipples.

“Come here, I got your bag,” he yells and you run back to the covered porch. He holds the towel out for you, wrapping you tightly, your intoxicating blend of pear and mint now mixed with the scent of fresh rain, and god damn does he want to kiss you and then punish you for being so fucking stubborn. His eyes run over your face and body, making sure that you’re ok. 

“I’m fine, Tommy,” you say, pulling the towel tighter as you start to shiver. 

As he reaches inside to grab an umbrella, he says, “Interesting that the safety of your designer bag and watch come before your actual safety, sweetheart.”

He jogs to your Jeep while popping open the umbrella. Just as he’s about to open the door the beep of the door's locking sounds. The sweetest sarcasm floats across the yard to his ears, “Sorry? What was that?”

He spins, trying not to lose his footing in the mud, and looks at you. You’re shivering, yet smiling deviously, holding the key fob that must have been in your pocket. “Open the door or you’ll be sorry.”

“I’m already drenched and covered in mud, that’s not a threat.” You laugh. 

He tries to use his best dom voice, not that he thinks it’ll work on you. “I’m not playing around here, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, “Big tough guy like you can’t handle a little rain?” 

“Open the doors or I will make you pay.”

You roll your eyes at him again and his palms tingle with the urge to spank you.

“Now, sweetheart,” he says with a growl.

He’s not sure if it's from the chill in the air, but your cheeks pink a little at his words before the doors open. He keeps your luxury laptop bag under the umbrella as he walks back to the porch. As he ascends the stairs, you smile at him cheekily and it takes everything inside of him not to pick you up and drop you in the mud. Instead, he does the gentlemanly thing and after putting your bag inside, he uses the other towel to remove as much mud from your pants as possible on the porch. Once he’s satisfied, he toes off his boots then pulls you inside. He kneels in front of you to help you out of your ruined shoes. Your bare toes are like ice in his hands and he tracks the small shivers racking your body.

Your teeth chatter as you say, “Just let me warm up and then we can pull me out with that tractor.”

He stands, hands running up and down your arms over the towel. He has to play this carefully while still being firm with what's going to happen today. He lowers his voice to a calm baritone that always works with his brattier subs. “I fear that you aren’t going anywhere tonight. I will lend you some clothes. Go to the master bath, please.”

He feels you deflate under his palms, your voice coming out in stubborn determination. “I can do it, Tommy.”

He smiles at you softly, stepping beside you and placing a hand on your lower back, gently guiding you towards the stairs. “I never said you couldn’t, sweetheart. But it’s too dangerous. So, for me, please just stay here tonight. By morning, the storm will have passed and we can get you unstuck. Okay?”

He follows you up the stairs and towards his bathroom, watching as you pull the soaked towel tighter around your chilled body. “Okay.”

He bites down on his tongue to stop the instinctual ‘good girl’ that wants to escape his lips and then says, “Thank you. I appreciate you doing this for me.”

You pause in the sitting room of his bedroom. “Sh-Shouldn’t I use the other bathroom?” Your voice is low, wavering slightly. Tommy gets the feeling that you aren’t accustomed to someone taking care of you.

“If you want to. I don’t have any toiletries over there, but if you want to use that side I can bring them. The shower is bigger here though.”

“We..I’m - Tommy, I don’t…” Your eyes shoot to his, panic clear across your face as you sputter. He realizes in that moment what he just insinuated and pulls his hand away from your back, raising them up.

“No, that’s not what I mean. I’ll change in the other room while you shower and then I’ll be downstairs whenever you’re done. I just meant that it’s a nicer shower - it has a steam function.”

Crimson stains your cheeks and you nod, he takes it as his cue to go start the shower so it can warm up for you. He can feel you watching him from the archway. You seem almost unsure of what to do next, and for someone so self assured and unafraid, it’s an interesting juxtaposition to the girl he knows. He slides open his dresser drawer and pulls out a pair of black sweatpants, followed by a white t-shirt. He glances your direction and gives you a small and reassuring smile. His eyes fall to your bare toes, the nails painted white for summer, the skin red from how cold they are. He opens another drawer and takes out a pair of socks then wanders to his closet to grab a zip up black hoodie. 

He takes the clothes and puts them on the bathroom counter; when he comes back out into the room you’ve stepped past the threshold of the arch. Something has shifted between the two of you; the air in the room feels thicker. He clears his throat gently before he speaks.

“Take your time. Why don’t you toss that towel and your clothes out here and I’ll wash them for you? You, umm, you can pick different things if you want.”

“No, that’s ok. Thank you, Tommy.” Your voice is shy and uncertain and he misses that snarky smart ass from earlier. 

“You look freezing. Go warm up. And seriously, take all the time you need.”

Thank you everyone who's gone on this little journey with me. I know that we don't write for the notes, but it would really mean the world to me if you reblogged. Tommy Miller, or at least my version of him, is severely under loved lol.

[chaoticcreative14]

No Exit - Chapter 1

Mafia Boss! Ash Garver x F! Bartender Reader

Summary: You have just gotten a new job as a bartender at your city’s most popular club ‘No Exit’. A coworker’s illness causes you to be placed in the VIP section of the club where you meet none other than the club’s owner, Ash. As you spend more time there, you start to realize that the club, and its owner, are much more than what they first appeared to be.

WARNINGS/TAGS (these are the tags for the whole series and are subject to change): Smut 18+, Violence, Blood, Death, Knife Play, Gun Play, BDSM, Rough Sex,, Minors DNI!

Word Count: 2598

You weaved through the people on the street, nearly knocking them over as you ran as fast as you could with the death traps women like to call heels on your feet. You had just gotten a new job at the city’s most popular nightclub and like an idiot you had slept through your alarm, body still not used to sleeping during the day and staying up through the night. You hadn’t actually started the job yet but you decided to try and acclimate to your new sleep schedule a week in advance. Clearly, it hadn’t worked the way you wanted it to.

You checked your phone as you ran, eyeing the time and willing it to move slower. You couldn’t be late your first day, you’d be fired on the spot. Some higher power must have been listening to your prayers because you made it to the nightclub with five minutes to spare before the start of your shift. The sign indicating the name of the club ‘No Exit’ was glowing and casting everything in a red hue, including you, as you approached. It was a bit of a creepy name for a club in your opinion, but hey, who were you to judge?

The bouncer at the front recognized you as you approached and waved you through, having met you a couple days ago when Darby, the manager, had given you a walk through. You quickly deposited your stuff in the back room and gave yourself a quick once over in the mirror hoping you didn’t look too much like someone who had just ran a half mile in six inch heels.

Surprisingly, you didn’t look too bad. Your hair was a bit disheveled but other than that you looked okay. You attempted to fix your hair and make it look like an intentional mess, windswept and all that and you finally managed to get it to a place you were mostly happy with. With that, you left the back room and made your way behind the bar where Darby was waiting for you.

“Cutting it a bit close there, y/n” Darby said as you approached.

“I know, I’m so sorry Darby I promise it won’t happen again,” you said in a slight panic.

“Relax y/n, it’s not like you were actually late, I was just kidding,” she said with a warm smile. “I’m not worried about you, I hired you for a reason.”

You exhaled a breath of relief at that, panic subsiding. “Thanks Darby,” you said.

Darby walked behind you, heading out towards the vast expanse of the club. “Alright, you’ve got this, I leave the bar in your capable hands. If you need anything, just press this button behind the bar and either I’ll come running or someone else will be down to help,” she said, patting you on the back. “And Sadie is here too so you’re not completely alone.” You gave her a nod and with that she was gone.

Sadie was the other bartender working on this floor tonight but she wouldn’t be able to help you out that much considering how busy you were. Oh yeah, that was the other thing. The club had multiple floors. The main floor had a large stage at the front of a dance floor, a large bar, and seating around the dance floor. The second floor that was more of a lounge where people could watch the entertainment from above but also have private conversations, with its own bar of course. Suffice to say, the second floor was more of a VIP section. It also had a third floor but that wasn’t open to the public; you didn’t even know what was up there. And, if the door you saw during your tour with Darby was any indication, there was also a basement which as far as you knew was used for storage. It was by far the largest and fanciest place you had ever bar tended in. Tonight you were on the main floor along with Sadie, where all the newer hires worked.

You turned toward the crowd of people swarming the bar, ready to order drinks and muttered a quiet “you’ve got this” under your breath. You began taking people’s orders and mixing their drinks for them, trying to work as efficiently as possible while giving them an award winning smile. You seemed to be doing an alright job if your tips were any indication. Your tight black dress probably didn’t hurt either, it showed off your tits spectacularly if you did say so yourself.

You spent the next couple of hours in a groove and you were actually having fun. The vibes were good and so was the music. Unfortunately, like they say, all good things must come to an end. You saw Darby approach you and you got a bad feeling, stomach sinking as she waved you over. “Is everything alright?” you asked her. “I thought I was doing okay but if not I can do better,” you promised.

“Oh it’s not that, you’re doing an amazing job,” she assured you. You started to feel calm again until an apologetic smile creeped onto her face. “But-,” she began.

“Don’t say but,” you pleaded, not liking where this was going.

“But,” she continued, “Laurie, one of our VIP bartenders just had to go home sick and I have no one to replace her,” Darby explained. It took you a second to catch on but when it did your mouth dropped open in disbelief.

“You’re not serious,” you told her, still processing what Darby was getting at.

“I am,” she replied, with sympathy in her voice.

“Why can’t you get Sadie to do it?” you asked her. “She’s been here longer than I have! It’s literally my first night,” you said a bit panicked.

“Sadie is fine down here but if I put her up there she’d be throwing herself at every man whose wallet she thought was thick enough. Our VIPs pay not to be bothered, throwing Sadie at them would derail that,” she explained.

“And you can’t call anyone else to come in?” you asked.

“No, I already tried that,” she said.

“But if I go up there, who’s gonna cover me down here?”

“Y/N, any bartender can cover down here, not every bartender has what it takes to work up there. But I believe you do so, please, for the love of god, go upstairs,” she convinced you. You inhaled deeply and took a moment to appreciate how fucked you were.

“Fine, but if I make an idiot of myself I will not be held responsible,” you swore.

“Thank you!” she said, clapping her hands together. “Alright, follow me.” With that, you trailed behind Darby, passing through the red rope that indicated you were about to enter a VIP area and walking up the stairs.

The second floor of the club was much classier than the bottom floor was. Fancy booths with partition walls that gave off a red glow, containing black leather couches and black tables. It was like night and day. You could still hear the music from the floor below and could see the entertainment on the stage from the edge of the balcony if you walked to it but the atmosphere was much different to that of downstairs. “Well this is nice,” you said.

“Yeah well, the VIPs pay enough that they have certain standards,” Darby said.

“Looks like it,” you agreed. You made your way to the bar and noted the shelves of very expensive alcohol it carried.

“So,” Darby started. “Serving drinks up here is a little different to down there. You have your VIPs who sit at the bar as you can see,” she said, gesturing to the people sitting at the bar. “That is typically covered by one person, in this case, tonight it is being covered by Anna,” she continued, pointing at a woman behind the bar. “Your job,” she said, turning back to you, “is to cover booths one to ten,” she explained.

“You are only responsible for those ten groups the rest of the night. Anything they want, you get for them,” she said, handing you a tablet. “Now these VIPs like I said don’t love to be bothered, so when they need you, they’ll press a button on a tablet that resides on their table and it will pop up here,” she said, pointing to the tablet in your hand. “It will indicate, for example, that booth seven would like a server or bartender’s assistance and you will go over there and take their order. You’ll click on their booth number on the tablet and note what they ordered, then you will go and make them their drinks and bring them their food from the kitchen behind the bar. As soon as their order is fulfilled, you press the check beside the booth number and that booth will disappear on the tablet until the next time they request your assistance. Does that make sense?” she asked, after that long explanation.

“I think so?” you say in response. She had given that explanation in less than 2 minutes so you weren’t that sure.

“Repeat it back to me,” she said.

“Uh, they use their tablet to signal for a server, it pops up on my tablet, I go over and take their order making sure to click on their booth number on the tablet to input what they order, I go and make their drinks and grab their food for them, serve it to them, press the check on the tablet so their booth disappears on the tablet until the next time they need me, and other than that I pretty much fuck off and make myself scarce?” you said.

“Perfect. See, you’re already good at this,” she said. “And remember, under no circumstances do you go over to them without them signalling you. These are very private people and discretion is key.”

“Got it,” you said.

“Great,” Darby said, breathing a sigh of relief. “I have faith in you, if you need me tell Anna and she’ll signal me,” she said walking away. You were still a bit overwhelmed with all the information that had just been thrown at you but you resolved to just go for it and so you walked behind the bar, waiting for one of your booths to signal you. Anna gave you an encouraging smile as you did, recognizing you were nervous. At least she seemed nice.

You didn’t have to wait for long for something to do, screen lighting up after only a few minutes. Booth Four, the screen read. Alright, you could do this, at least that’s what you told yourself as you slowly approached the booth. You were greeted by three older looking men, all in suits, and none of them bothering to look up at you. It wasn’t because they didn’t notice your presence, because they rattled off their orders as soon as you reached the table. You had a sneaking suspicion it was because they thought you beneath them, considering you were working at a club like this.

They were basic with their orders, three whiskeys. At least that was easy to put into the system. It took you less than three minutes to pour their drinks and serve it to them, making sure to check off the booth when the order was completed. You still didn’t get so much as a thank you which was pretty rude but at least they’d still be tipping you. Darby had clued you in during your tour that to become a VIP member you had to commit to a minimum of a fifty dollar tip, which was crazy to you but hey, working in the VIP section had its perks. Besides, you knew that that amount of money was nothing for them.

You continued on serving booths as they popped up and all in all, it was a pretty easy gig. Luckily, most customers were actually pretty nice, the majority of them, apart from booth four, at least saying hello and giving you a smile.

As one in the morning came around a few of your booths had cleared out, now only having to manage six booths. You had practically served every single one of your assigned booths at that point, all except for booth one, that is. It was even more secluded than the rest of them, located in a dark corner. Honestly, you had assumed that no one was seated there tonight because it had been so quiet, so it came as a surprise to you when your screen lit up and Booth One was displayed across it.

You grabbed your tablet and quickly walked over to the booth, heels clicking on the marble. As you reached the table you looked up and put on your biggest smile but found it almost dropping in surprise when you saw a group of younger men, different from the people you’ve been used to seeing all night. There was one in particular, however, that caught your eye. He had longer, black, slicked back hair, the deepest brown eyes you’d ever seen, with a moustache and a beard. You could also tell, even from the opposite side of the table, that his white dress shirt was practically hugging his muscles and his thighs filled out his black dress pants more than they had any right to. In other words, the man was sex on a stick.

He was already looking at you when you turned your head towards him, appearing to give you a once over. You were just about to ask for their orders when the man spoke, not a greeting, but rather an intrigued, “You’re new.”

You gave a slightly nervous laugh at that, meeting his eyes. “Is it that obvious?” you asked, worried you weren’t doing as good a job as you thought you were.

Another one of the men at the table interjected, putting your worries at ease. “Not at all,” he said. “Ash here owns the club, so he notices these things.”

Well shit, you thought. Of course Mr sex-on-a-stick had to be the owner of the stupid club you worked at. You were fucked. “Oh,” you said slightly stunned. “Well it’s nice to meet you sir,” you said trying to seem professional. At that, you could’ve sworn you saw his eyes darken but you were certain you were imagining things. Just because you wanted to jump his bones, didn’t mean that he wanted to do the same.

“You can just call me Ash,” he said, smirking at you. “And you are?” he questioned.

“Y/n,” you introduced yourself. “Darby just hired me, it’s my first shift” you explained.

“First shift and already working the VIP section,” he remarked. “Darby must have a lot of faith in you.”

“Apparently so,” you agreed. There was a pause for a moment before you shook yourself out of it. “So what can I get for you?” you asked.

“Scotch, top shelf, neat,” he said.

“You like it strong,” you said with a laugh and he gave you a wink. Everyone at his table ordered the same thing which made your life easier. “Right, I’ll be right back with those,” you said with a smile, walking away and trying not to trip over your feet and eat shit.

As you left the booth, however, you felt a pair of eyes on your back and you just knew who they belonged to.

Yeah, you decided. You were absolutely fucked.

NOTE: Hey everyone! Thanks for reading! I just wanted to let you all know that while I don’t have a specific schedule for updating this fic as I’m writing as I go, I will be aiming to publish at least a chapter a week though it could be more or less than that depending on the week! Anyways, I hope you enjoyed!

[chaoticcreative14]

No new episode of The Last of Us tonight, what am I going to do with my Sunday Night?

[chaoticcreative14]

So lately I’ve been thinking a lot about Tommy Miller (because that man is FINE) and I was wondering what he’d be like/how he’d react if his partner got hurt?

So if you could write something that broaches that topic I’d be forever grateful! No pressure at all though if it’s not something you want to write!

Thank you for sending me a request. I got carried away, and this ended up being longer than I anticipated. Hope you enjoy it!

You should read another Tommy fic I recently published called “Anchored to You.” I think you’d like it; it has simliar themes.

Better Late Than Never

It started like most things in the world after the outbreak—with survival, and then, somehow, with trust. Clarke had shown up in Jackson three winters ago. She was sharp-eyed and calm in the way only people who had seen too much could be. She didn’t try to make a big impression or pretend to be something she wasn’t. But the moment she stepped foot past the gates with a rifle slung over her shoulder and a calm, calculating gaze that swept the perimeter like she’d already memorized the layout, Tommy Miller had known: she wasn’t someone you let slip past unnoticed.

Clarke wasn’t flashy or loud, but there was something about her. It was an unspoken knowing, a way she moved with purpose that matched his own. Within a month, they were patrolling together. Within two, they were leading scouting teams. And by the end of that first year, they were Jackson’s most trusted duo—efficient, composed, and damned near telepathic in the field. They didn’t need to speak most days. A flick of her eyes was enough for him to know she saw the same threat he did. A muttered breath, and they’d flank without planning. Like two halves of a single blade.

When the town slept, the pair would often find each other by the fire pits behind the stables. She’d hand him a cup of whatever passable coffee the town brewed that week, and he’d talk about the sky and how much it changed depending on the season. She’d listen quietly, intently, always letting him fill the silence. They weren’t lovers—not officially—not anything really, not on paper at least. There was no mistaking it, and everyone in Jackson knew: if you found one, you found the other.

Six months ago, things started to shift; not in grand ways rather little moments. It was in the way his hand lingered on her back when they’d review plans, or how she looked at him just a second too long when he was talking about the way Ellie reminded him of Sarah. Tommy only ever talked about Sarah when his guard was down after a long, hard day that wore the edge off his usual silence. After a few drinks at the Tipsy Bison when the weight of the past slipped past his lips before he could stop it. After lacing his fingers through hers when they sat close by the fire at a safe house on stakeout, the night pressing in quiet around them.

Those were the moments when he let it out. The memories came slow and careful, like he was afraid saying too much might make her disappear. And Clarke, in those moments, opened too. It wasn’t easy, but with Tommy, she could speak the truth out loud. She told him about her baby brother, who was only eight when the outbreak started, and how he died in her arms before she could get him help. She shared how she’d been raising him since she was fifteen, after their father died not long after he was born and their mother had all but vanished into her grief. After her brother died, it was just her and her twin. They were thick as thieves, and even now, she didn’t take it for granted that he was still here, safe in Jackson with her.

They were only ever vulnerable like that with each other—in those fleeting, fragile hours when the world outside fell quiet, and it felt like they were the only two people left in it. They danced around whatever it was growing between them. Both too old, too scarred, too afraid to name something they didn’t want to risk breaking. Yet it was there, humming low between them, steady as a heartbeat.

But tonight? Tonight shattered all of that.

The town was quiet when they returned—too quiet. The wind had teeth tonight. Bitter and biting, it screamed between the cracks in Jackson’s gates as they groaned. Jesse stumbled through the snow first, blood trailing from his temple, breath fogging in the freezing air. He looked like he’d been dragged through hell, one arm hanging uselessly, clothes torn and half frozen. And then came Clarke.

Tommy had just stepped out of the barn when he saw them. His chest locked up the second he saw her. She wasn’t walking so much as leaning, bracing herself against Jesse. Her jacket was soaked in blood, part of her side wrapped in something that looked like it had once been a shirt—improvised to keep her insides inside. Her lip was split, her right eye already swollen shut. Her hair, usually tucked in braids, was tangled with sweat and dried blood. She looked half-dead.

Tommy didn’t remember moving. One moment he was beside the barn. The next, he was there, catching her just as her just as her knees buckled.

“Clarke—hey, hey,” he breathed, panic threading his voice as he held her up. “You’re okay… I got you, baby girl.”

“Hey, cowboy,” she sputtered. She tried to smile, and it broke his heart. “You look like shit.”

“Don’t talk, save your strength, doll,” Tommy huffed something between a laugh and a sob. His hands scanned her whole body, assessing the damage. “What the hell happened to you two?”

“Guess we took the scenic route,” she rasped, trying to brush it off like they hadn’t nearly died.

“It was a setup,” Jesse rasped. He looked about ready to collapse himself, but he still continued. “Eight of them. Waiting at the safe house. They weren’t scavengers. They were hunting. It’s like—it’s like they knew we were coming, Tommy.”

Tommy’s jaw clenched so tight he thought it might crack. “You’re tellin’ me I sent y’all out there into a trap?”

“They were sick,” Clarke winced as pain flared, sharp and immediate. Her eyes fluttered, unfocused. “One of ‘em had teeth filed to points—screamed the whole time he was trying to gut me. They didn’t want supplies. They wanted to make us suffer… We barely made it out.”

“Barely,” Jesse repeated, voice raw. “She—she threw herself in front of me. Took the brunt of it. I was out of ammo. I would’ve—she saved my life.”

Tommy’s hand trembled on her waist. “Jesus Christ…”

“I covered Jesse,” she muttered, as if it needed explaining. “He’s still learning. Still a kid.”

“I’m nineteen,” Jesse grumbled, voice low, but at that moment, he looked more like a sulky kid than a grown man.

“You’re a kid,” she growled, before her knees gave out completely.

Tommy scooped her up without hesitation, bridal style, even as she gasped in pain. She was light. Too light.

“All right let’s go,” he hissed, voice iron.

Tommy hadn’t moved in hours—not even to eat or drink. The room was thick with silence that was broken only by the soft shuffle of Maria coming and going, her footsteps light but steady as she brought updates. Stitches. Blood loss. Fractured ribs. Possible concussion. None of it sounded fatal, but it was enough to twist his stomach into knots, gnawing at the edges of his calm. Clarke looked smaller lying there in the cot—too small, too fragile, too vulnerable. 

Her skin was pale, the color sucked out like life had seeped from her. It wasn’t the Clarke Tommy knew. Not the woman who could break a man’s arm before he even had a chance to draw his holster. Not the woman who’d yell at you for wasting bullets but then turn around and walk twenty miles just to recover a broken rifle, because every scrap of ammo was precious. She fought tooth and nail—relentless, unstoppable, leaving no stone unturned, no challenge unmet. She didn’t get hurt, especially not like this.

Tommy sat with his elbows resting heavily on his knees, hands steepled against his mouth, eyes locked on her face, guarding her with a silent vigilance. Every breath she took was a small victory. Every rise and fall of her chest was a reminder of how fragile things could be. He felt hopeless, replaying it all in his head, wishing he had been there. If  he was there, he could have shielded her, fought alongside her, caught her before she fell. He was driving himself crazy with the what-if’s.

In an armchair at the foot of her bed, Tommy did the only thing he could do: wait for her to wake up; he had started to doze off when—

“You gonna sit there brooding all night?” her voice croaked, barely audible.

Tommy’s head shot up and he gasped, “Clarke?”

“Mmmm … thought I was dreaming you … a Greek god resting at the foot of my bed”

“You ain’t dreamin’,” Tommy let out a long breath, part relief, part something deeper. “You’re in the infirmary. Took a bad hit to the ribs. Lost a lot of blood.”

“Sounds about right,” she exhaled through her nose.

Tommy hesitated, then reached for her hand. 

“Don’t ever do that again,” Tommy whispered earnestly, holding her hand and squeezing it. Clarke’s brow twitched in confusion. “Don’t ever go out there without me again. Don’t ever throw yourself in front of a goddamn blade like your life don’t matter, doll.”

Clarke stared at him, exhausted but steady when she said, “Jesse would’ve died.”

“You could’ve died, Clarke”

“But I didn’t. I’m here, Tommy. I’m right here with you, like I’m supposed to be.”

“That’s not the point,” he cried, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’d been holding in. His eyes glistened, rimmed red and full of tears that threatened to spill over. “You scared me more than I ever thought possible. Seeing you walk through the gate like that—broken and helpless—it shook me to my core.” 

 Tommy released a shaky breath, leaning closer, the pain and honesty etched deep in every word. He swallowed hard, struggling to steady himself, but the rawness in his voice only deepened as he continued, “You and me—we’ve always had each other’s backs, been through hell and back together. I believed that was all we ever needed, but what happened tonight made me realize I’ve been lyin’ to myself all along. I care about you more than I’ve ever imagined possible—not just as some soldier watching your six, not just as your best friend sipping coffee in the mornings together but as something... more.”

Tommy looked at her then, heart laid bare, nothing left to hide. All the years of restraint, of pretending it was just camaraderie or duty, cracked open in the silence between them. He hoped Clarke could see it—the weight of everything he hadn’t said, everything he’d buried under patrol schedules and shared whiskey and late-night conversations that always stopped just short of real. He hoped she could see that whatever came next, it wasn’t just words. It wasn’t just a moment of fear or adrenaline or guilt. It was the truth—raw and long-hidden—finally breaking free.

Her eyes locked onto his, steady and sharp, like she was studying every line of his face for some hidden meaning. Like she was parsing the truth from the confession. As if she didn’t trust it, not fully, not yet but wanted to—no, needed to. The silence stretched, taut with everything unsaid, and still she didn’t look away. It was like she was searching for proof that what he felt wasn’t fleeting. That this wasn’t just about the blood and the fear and how close they’d come to losing everything. That it was real. That it had always been real.

“I thought about you,” she whispered. “Out there. When they surrounded us. I kept thinking about how we never said it. How stupid it’d be to die and never say it.”

“Say it now,” he murmured. His thumb brushed gently over her bruised knuckles.

The silence that followed was thick, but not hesitant by any means. With a deep breath, she said, “I love you.”

He leaned down, forehead resting gently against hers. “I love you too.”

Spring came slowly that year. The melt left the streets slick and muddy, but the sun was warmer each day. Clarke was walking again, slower than before, but stronger by the day. The town had rallied around her like she was Jackson’s own guardian angel. Jesse hadn’t left her side for the first five days and neither had Tommy. Today, they walked the perimeter together; just the two of them, hand in hand.

“Think you’ll ever let me live down almost dying?” she asked, smirking as they walked side by side.

“Nope,” Tommy teased. He shot her a sideways look. “Gonna hold it over your head till we’re old and gray.”

“We are old,” she laughed. She elbowed him playfully

“Then I guess I’m lucky to have you while I still got time.”

Clarke stopped then and turned to face him. Her eyes, now healed and vibrant again, held him without wavering. She wrapped her arms around his waist and pulled him close

“We’ve still got time,” she whispered. “Let’s not waste it.”

Tommy smiled, held her face in his hands, and kissed her softly. She giggled into the kiss and he tickled her sides, making her squeal. Quietly, he took her hand in his and together they walked back toward Jackson. Their fingers laced together with the quiet ease of something long overdue, something more, something worth fighting for. For the first time in years, the world didn’t feel like the world was ending. 

Now, it felt like it was only just beginning again—slowly, carefully, like the first thaw after a long winter. Jackson’s muddy paths stretched out before them, glistening with meltwater, and the sky was wide and clear above the wall. The ghosts still lingered, as they always would. The pain, the guilt, the things they’d seen—they were woven into the fabric of who they were. But for once, they weren’t drowning in it. They were moving forward, together.

[chaoticcreative14]

Hey everyone! I have been obsessed with Manny since watching The Last of Us and had to get my horny thoughts out. Anyways, if you too are horny for Manny Alvarez, this fic is for you!

Manny Alvarez x F! Doctor Reader

DESCRIPTION: You’ve had a really shitty day and your boyfriend Manny helps you relax.

WARNINGS/TAGS: Smut 18+, Dry Humping, Established Relationship, Sweet Manny, Fluff

WORD COUNT: 2528

You slammed the door to your room behind you, frustration coursing through your whole body. Isaac had been a royal asshole today and you were beyond done. You got he was stressed about everything that had been happening with the scars but it didn’t give him an excuse to take it out on you.

You were one of very few doctors that the WLF had which meant that you were very valuable. Unfortunately, that didn’t mean that Isaac didn’t like to take his issues out on you. What set him off this time was your failure to save a patient.

You had treated quite a number of patients since this war with the scars had begun, more than you and your limited staff could handle really. This patient wasn’t the first you had lost, and you were sure it wouldn’t be the last.

Today, Issac had brought you a soldier that had been shot by several arrows. As soon as you looked at him you knew the arrows had pierced several vital organs. There was very little you could have done for him. Still, you had tried to save him. You had spent several hours in surgery trying to fix all the damage but it was too much.

Maybe back when the world was normal you could’ve done something about it, but with the resources you had here there was no way. Unfortunately Isaac didn’t see that way. He had spent almost an hour after surgery berating you and questioning why you were even here if you couldn’t save lives. Suffice it to say, you were more than pissed off, Isaac apparently expecting you to work miracles.

You were actually a very good doctor. You were able to save a lot of people, ones most people wouldn’t be. Of course Isaac never appreciated that though. He only ever focused on your failures. When he had finally let you leave after his little rant you had made a beeline for your room. All this to say, you felt that you had a perfectly good reason to slam your door.

You let yourself lean against said door for a moment and closed your eyes. After you had gathered yourself, you kicked off your boots and flopped down face first on your bed. All you wanted to do was go to sleep and forget everything that had happened today. You had just about fallen asleep when you heard the door open and then shut again.

You didn’t lift your head, already knowing who it was. Your suspicions were confirmed when you felt the bed sink beside you and a strong hand rubbing your back. “Hey baby,” Manny said, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the back of your head. You let out an incoherent greeting, still refusing to lift your head from where it was pressed into the bed.

“Damn, your day was that bad?” he asked, noting the signs of your stress. You finally lifted your head slightly, turning it to make eye contact with him.

“Isaac is a fucking dick,” you said before plopping your head back down. Manny continued to rub your back as he answered you with a simple “When is he not?” and honestly, you couldn’t argue with that.

“I know this is nothing new for him but I swear to god the man was on a tear today,” you complained, Manny humming in acknowledgement.

“I heard, I’m sorry,” he said, sympathy clear in his voice. “How are you doing?” he asked me. “I know losing a patient is always hard for you.” You finally turned your body so your back was on your bed and you were facing him.

“I’m okay,” you promised him. “Or as okay as I can be considering,” you added. You always felt horrible when you lost a patient, but you had learned to accept there was only so much you could do and you tried to move on. Isaac yelling at you, however, hadn’t done you any favours.

“Have you eaten?” Manny asked you. You shook your head no. You had come right back to your room after talking with Isaac, food being the furthest thing from your mind and you told him as much.

“I’ll eat later,” you promised, which seemed to placate him for now. “What about you? Have you eaten anything?”

“Yeah,” he assented. “I ate with my dad a little while ago,” he explained. You smiled at that. Manny’s father wasn’t able to eat by himself anymore so Manny always made sure to help him. His dad was the sweetest, even when he made fun of his son’s facial hair. “You know, he was asking about you,” he said.

“Oh yeah?” you questioned with a slight laugh.

“Yeah,” Manny confirmed, laughing along with you. “He noticed you hadn’t eaten with us in a while and he accused me of screwing up in his words ‘the best thing that could’ve possibly happened to me.’”

“Well, your father always was my favourite Alvarez man,” you said, smiling at him. He raised an eyebrow and placed a hand over his heart when he heard this, acting like your words physically hurt him.

“You wound me,” he said. You fell into a comfortable silence after that, smiling at each other as Manny rubbed his hand over your ankle, anchoring you to the moment. Eventually, looking at you wasn’t enough for Manny and he grabbed your hand to get you to sit up. “Come here,” he said softly.

You went willingly, standing up so he could take your place leaning against the headboard and then settling yourself on his lap, pressing a quick peck to his lips before resting your head in the crook of his neck. “A man can only go so long without holding the woman he loves,” Manny said, explaining why he felt the need to move you both into your current position.

You lifted your head and raised an eyebrow, shaking your head slightly at him. “Wow, you’ve reached new levels of cheesy,” you exclaimed. He gave as much of a shrug as he could with his arms around you.

“What can I say, you bring it out in me,” he defended himself. You gave him another smile at that before leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. You let out a deep sigh and sank into him, feeling the stress of the day start to leave your body. Manny hummed in contentment as his mouth met yours and when you pulled back slightly he used it to his advantage. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss and you let out a slight moan at the feeling. You felt Manny move his hands to your hips and pull you closer to him, pressing your bodies together so that there was no space left between you. “I missed you today,” he whispered against your lips when you both broke away for air.

“I missed you too,” you replied, connecting your lips to his once more. You felt heat course through you as the hands on your hips settled you in his lap, your core brushing over the outline of his cock. You let out another moan at the feeling and Manny groaned in response.

“What do you need?” Manny asked softly, his forehead pressed into yours. He wanted you but he also knew how exhausted you were. You knew that if you said you wanted to stop now and go to bed he would do it, no questions asked. Despite your exhaustion, however, you were burning with arousal and you needed something to make the heat low in your belly dissipate.

“I don’t want to stop,” you said immediately, your need evident in your voice. “But maybe,” you started, looking into his eyes, “maybe we could just do this,” you finished, grinding yourself down onto his cock. Manny tilted his head back slightly at the feeling before letting a grin spread across his face.

“Yeah, yeah baby, we can do that,” he said with a husky voice, kissing you again with renewed vigour. Your tongues tangled with each other, moving in an intricate dance you’ve both done many times before. One of Manny’s hands tangled in your hair, angling your head where he wanted it. The other stayed on your hip and he used his grip to grind you down onto him. You broke from the kiss to gasp, throwing your head back in the process and Manny took the opportunity to begin pressing kisses to your neck.

He started right under your year, sending a shiver down your spine. He moved further and further down your neck until he hit a spot that made you cry out. “Sensitive cariño?” he asked teasingly.

“You know I am,” you said, giving a particularly hard thrust against Manny’s hips as he sucked a mark into your neck. You were silent for a few moments save your breaths and Manny’s humming as he continued his assault on your neck. You basked in the attention he was giving you, feeling the stress from your day begin to fade away. You sank further into him, the movement of your hips creating a delicious friction that caused the heat in your stomach to flare.

Manny felt it as you began to relax into him and grinned, pulling away for a brief moment to speak. “That’s it baby, I’ve got you,” he said, moving his hips to rub harder against you. The movement caused the tip of his cock to press into your clit, driving you even more insane.

“Manny,” you cried out as he brushed against your sensitive bundle. “You feel so fucking good baby,’ you whined, chasing the feeling growing inside you.

“Fuck cariño, just like that,” he said, resting his forehead against your own. Both hands were now on your hips, dragging you harshly against him, his own release building inside him. Your hips began to lose their rhythm slightly, the pressure on your clit sending sparks through your whole body. Manny recognized it as a sign that you were getting close and he doubled his efforts, grinding you into him while grinding his own hips up into you at the same time.

You were unbelievably wet at this point, your arousal had soaked right through your pants and was now creating a damp spot in Manny’s lap. He loved how messy you got for him. The more wet you got, the closer it meant you were so Manny knew you were right on the edge. He wasn’t gonna be able to hold on much longer himself, the way you looked with pleasure coursing through your veins above him threatening to make him lose control. “Are you gonna cum for me baby?” he asked, mouth pressed to yours but not kissing you.

You wanted to, more than anything, but you couldn’t quite get there yet. “Fuck, I’m so close,” you said breathless, trying to chase the high that has been evading you. “I just need — I don’t know, just something.”

Manny knew exactly what to do to send you over the edge for him, knowing you liked a little bit of pain with your pleasure. He moved a hand back to your hair to give it a sharp tug just as he gave an especially hard grind against your clit and you felt the cord inside you snap. You let out a sob of his name as euphoria rushed over you, clinging onto Manny and digging your nails into his back.

“Fuck,” he moaned, still moving against you as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

“Manny,” you whimpered as you moved through the aftershocks of your release.

“It’s okay,” he said, still trying to stave off his own pleasure and closing his eyes. “I’ve got you cariño, I’ve got you,” he promised. As you came down from your high you felt a pleasant fog take over your brain. You still noticed, however, that Manny hadn’t let go yet.

“Hey Manny,” you whispered, pressing a hand against his cheek and getting him to look at you. He opened his eyes which at this point were completely glazed over, Manny lost in his lust. “You can let go now baby,” you said to him. He didn’t seem to hear you at first so you brushed back the hair that had stuck to his forehead in the time you had been tangled up in each other. “Manny, baby, cum for me,” you said and this time he listened.

“Oh fuck,” he said as he let out a groan that could only be described as wrecked, attaching his lips to yours in an all consuming kiss as he finally found his release. His hips stuttered against yours, eyes closing again as he worked through his pleasure. Finally, Manny relaxed pulling you close to him, pressing your face into his neck and a kiss to the top of your head.

You were both silent, the only sounds filling the room that of your heavy breathing. Manny had one hand on the back of your head cradling it and the other on your back rubbing soothing circles into it. After a while, you lifted your head to look at him, seeing a tired smile on his face. “Hey,” he said, voice hoarse.

“Hey,” you said grinning back at him, contentment and affection filling your body.

“Are you okay?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your eyes, always concerned for your wellbeing, especially after an intense orgasm like you had just had.

“I’m okay,” you promised him, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Are you okay?” you checked.

“I’m great,” he replied, stroking your hair. After another few moments of silent contentment you started to fall asleep when, suddenly, Manny moved forward and shifted you off his lap, causing you to let out a groan of protest. “I know, cariño, I’m sorry, but we have to get cleaned up before we fall asleep.

You hated to admit it but he was right so you both stripped yourselves, wiped yourselves off, and changed into fresh clothes. Well, you did at least, Manny preferring to sleep naked because in his words ‘there’s no need to dirty our limited clothes just to sleep in.’

On your part, you had thrown on a fresh pair of panties and Manny’s shirt. After you were dressed you turned off the light before crawling into bed beside him and throwing a leg over his, resting your head against his chest. Manny wrapped an arm around you as you settled against his side and pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

Laying here in Manny’s arms, you managed to forget all about the horrible day behind you, his presence always making everything better. You could tell he was almost asleep so you whispered softly so as not to startle him, “Hey Manny?”

He hummed softly in acknowledgement before replying. “Yeah baby?”

“Thanks for taking care of me,” you said softly.

“Always,” he promised. “I love you, cariño,” he said.

“I love you too,” you echoed before finally drifting off to sleep, feeling at peace in Manny’s arms.

[chaoticcreative14]

The season finale of The Last of Us was incredible but that fucking ending? You can’t do this to me!

I swear to god if they kill Tommy Miller I will never recover

[chaoticcreative14]

Angst prompt for Agents of SHIELD: PhiLMD is clearly suicidal, and human Coulson had already been deeply depressed and acting borderline suicidal for almost 3 years prior to his death.

Last we saw PhiLMD, he was taking more time to "evaluate" whether he wanted to live and for how long. The briefcase Mack left for him contained not only the keys to LOLA, but also the button to shut himself off.

So we've got a guy who a) has openly said he doesn't know whether he wants to go on living, b) has spent the past year+ making remarks that indicate he's experiencing ongoing suicidal ideation, c) has chosen a specific method for his suicide, and d) has obtained something specifically for his chosen method of suicide.

If a human openly talked about how they weren't sure life was worth living, was experiencing frequent suicidal ideation, had decided that if/when they would kill themselves that they would do it by shooting themselves in the head, and then they went and obtained a gun specifically for the purpose of shooting themselves in the head, THIS WOULD BE VERY VERY CONCERNING.

And it's even more concerning in light of human Coulson's behavior in his last few years of life. After Rosalind died, he started taking on insane risks like he was looking to die.

Remember how bad-ass he was in S03E09 when he dove through the portal to Maveth? (Well, bad-ass until he failed to stick the landing and knocked himself out.) Go rewatch that scene. That was a crazy risk that only someone who didn't care whether he lived or died would take.

And if you continue watching the series from that point, you'll see he takes a lot of other crazy risks from then on. Then he's eager to make a deal with Ghostrider that he knows will make him terminally ill, and then not only refuses to consider two extraordinary treatments (Kree blood and modified CENTIPEDE serum) but also the very obvious ordinary treatment of a heart transplant early in the course of his illness.

It's like he was relieved to be terminally ill so he that he'd finally have a good enough excuse to just die without needing to actively commit suicide.

You can also monitor human Coulson's depression symptoms by how his wardrobe changes over seasons 3, 4, and 5. Yeah, he initially gives up the ties because they're difficult to tie with his prosthetic, but it doesn't take long before he gives up on suits entirely. Like just hop through the episodes and take a minute to see what he's wearing (skipping the dark future episodes in which he didn't have a lot of wardrobe choices) and you can watch him deciding to give up on life one outfit at a time. :(

So yeah, something that explores how human Coulson became deeply depressed after Rosalind's death (and even once he got over that, his lingering horror with himself over crossing the one line he said he'd never cross, which I suspect contributed a lot to his no longer feeling he even deserved to live) and how PhiLMD is very obviously suicidally depressed and on the brink would be nice an angsty.

The people around him hear him cracking his dumb dad jokes the whole time and think he's fine, but when you ignore that and actually look carefully, all the warning signs of imminent suicide are there. :(

ANGSTY ENOUGH FOR YA?!?! lol

Sorry this took so long to write but I finally finished it!

Angst Prompt

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Suicidal Ideation, Thoughts and Mentions of Death

Description: Coulson reflects on his life both as a human and a chronicom and has serious doubts about wanting to continue on.

Word Count: 1218

Phil could have taken the centipede serum. He knew it was what the rest of the team wanted him to do, and he considered it, he really did. But the more he considered it the more he knew that he couldn’t take the serum.

If he was being honest with himself, it wasn’t just about Talbot or saving the world. It was about so much more than that. It was about the fact that he wasn’t supposed to be here in the first place. He had cheated death so many times, he’s had more chances than any one person deserves. He didn’t want to cheat it again. He was satisfied, he was done, and if he was being really honest with himself he was tired.

He had gotten so many things wrong. More than that he had gotten so many people killed. Rosalind. It still hurt to think about her and how she died. Ward never would’ve killed Rosalind if he hadn’t have been alive, because if he hadn’t been alive, she wouldn’t have met him. If she hadn’t met him, Phil and her never would have cared for each other. If he had never cared for her, Ward never would have taken her out. Logically, Phil knows that Malick contributed to her death, but he still blames himself.

After her death, he stopped seeing the point. He started taking stupid risks like jumping through that portal to Maveth and from that moment on he just kept taking more. He let Ghost Rider inhabit his body knowing it would make his days numbered. Because the truth was, all he managed to do was get the people he cared about hurt, or worse, killed and he deserved to die for it. He couldn’t protect Rosalind from Ward, he couldn’t protect Bobbi when she was taken by Ward, he couldn’t protect Fitzsimmons when they were dropped into the ocean by Ward, everything came back to Ward and he was powerless against him, or at least it felt like it.

Maybe that’s why he did it. Crossed the line he swore he’d never crossed. His team tried to justify what he had done to Ward, they really had. They tried to reason that he was protecting them, protecting the world from the evil that was Grant Ward, but Phil knew the truth. He didn’t kill Ward as some great service to the world, or in the name of protection. He killed him in revenge and in anger.

It was the one thing he swore he’d never do, and yet, in that moment that hadn’t mattered to him. What scared him even more was that as he crushed Ward’s chest and his still being heart along with it, Phil felt good. He had felt powerful and he hadn’t felt even a hint of regret. That came later and it only came because he felt guilty for crossing that line and breaking his promise to himself, not because he killed Ward.

So no, if you asked Phil Coulson, he didn’t deserve to live. He hadn’t deserved to live for a long time and honestly, he stopped caring whether or not he did when that bullet went through Rosalind’s neck.

It made the choice to give up the serum because the truth was, even if he hadn’t had to choose between him and Talbot, he wouldn’t have taken it. He was ready to die and nothing was going to stop him. The only thing he regretted was the pain he was about to cause the people he loved.

————————————————————

The first thing Coulson felt when he was bombarded with his memories was not happiness, as one might expect from someone freshly resurrected, at least sort of. He was Coulson but he also wasn’t, not really. Unfortunately, despite that fact, he had to live with a lifetime of his memories, a lifetime of regrets. And now, on top of those regrets he also had to deal with this feeling of being a complete fraud. He didn’t quite know how to reconcile having the entirety of someone’s memories while knowing he was essentially a robot.

He really wishes that they had been able to let him go instead of putting him through this again. He knows they missed him and that they loved him, he loved them too, but it was time. He was ready. And now he was here again and he had such a headache from the whole thing.

His team needed his help and of course Coulson wasn’t going to say no but he also couldn’t help but feel they hadn’t really thought about him in all of this. He doesn’t think any of them fully thought through the ramifications this would have on him. Despite this fact, he’d still do anything for them and that’s exactly what he did. That said, he didn’t have to do it in a way that guaranteed his safety and he didn’t want to.

He figured he’d kill two birds with one stone, help his team while ending his very long, confusing, painful life, if he even was alive anymore. He didn’t hesitate to sacrifice himself the moment the opportunity presented itself. He blew himself up along with the chronicom ship without an ounce of care for his own life and he would do it again. As soon as he had been brought back in this form he knew that he was going to end himself after the mission was complete. He just wasn’t interested in carrying on.

He had thought it was the perfect way to go out, once again, he was satisfied. But then the peace of death eluded him once again. His consciousness was now in the lighthouse and he was stuck there. Stuck alone with his thoughts which was worse than when he had his chronicom body. Luckily Deke found him, but even still, he wanted to die more than he already had before.

Then, once again he was given a new body. But he was tired, Coulson was so so tired and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep doing this. He would still help finish the mission he started, but more and more often he longed to finally be finished. He wasn’t even Phil Coulson anymore, not really. He was a copy, a comfort for the people who had loved and lost him. But he was sure, this was his last mission.

When they finally defeated the chronicoms, he gave it some time. He knew that his team wouldn’t support him deciding to shut himself off for good, at least not without thinking about it for a while first.

So Coulson waited, for months he waited, and then eventually Mack gave him what he needed to shut himself down, to finally end himself. But along with it, he also gave him Lola. He knows the team still isn’t ready to let him go, so he agreed to take some more time.

The truth was, he doubted he’d stay online forever, still thinking it’d be better to shut himself down and finally rest. That being said, he allowed for the possibility, however small, that he would persevere and that maybe one day he’d feel like living again, and while it wasn’t the greatest display of hope, it was enough for now.

[chaoticcreative14]

Fic request: There seems to be a dearth of ***IN CHARACTER*** Coulson-centric fics written by people who have actually watched Agents of SHIELD and digested how his character grew and changed over the years.

It's like fandom invented their own characterization to flesh out what little we saw of him in the Phase 1 era movies (2008-2012) and then never ever let that characterization go even as he became a very different character. Because of that, shipping Clint Barton / Phil Coulson is a fanon pairing that has persisted long after we found out Clint had a wife and kids (2015) and only ever heterosexual love interests for human!Coulson (2013-2018).

So here we are 10 years later, and people are still churning out fics in that fanon pairing and thus writing Coulson's character as the type of man whose career was primarily about being the handler for a pair of assassins instead of as the type of man who rebuilt SHIELD from the ground up to be an organization that didn't try to solve every problem with assassinations. Meanwhile, given all the tidbits we learned in AoS about his SHIELD career over the years, he couldn't have been Clint and Natasha's handler for very long because Fury had Coulson running around managing all sorts of special projects (grooming Coulson for leadership), not running a pair of assassins for years and years.

My objection isn't to pairing Coulson with a man. I'm totally fine with writing Coulson as bisexual, but I wish people would pair him with someone he's been shown to be crushing on (Steve Rogers) or has had repeated interactions and obvious on-screen chemistry with (Glenn Talbot) or ANYONE HE EVER ACTUALLY APPEARED ON SCREEN WITH EVER. Or even paired with no one (alone and lonely is very in-character for Coulson) but still the central character of the story and not some minor background character in fic focused on some ship he's not in.

Sorry, I meant this to be a simple fic request for more in-character Coulson-centric fics but then I thought "well I'd better explain what I mean by that" and then 12 years of frustrations poured out of me all at once lol. Coulson is my #1 favorite character in the MCU, but I abandon so many fics a few chapters in because of the awful mischaracterization. :(

I got this lovely request from an anon! I tried my hardest to make this *in character* Coulson so I hope you like it! He’s one of my favourite Agents of Shield characters so I hope I did him justice! Sorry it’s a bit short.

This is my first time posting a fic to tumblr so please bear with me if there are any formatting issues.

Description: Daisy is doubting her abilities as a leader but it’s okay because Coulson is there to give her one of his famous pep talks.

Word Count: 994

Coulson was sitting in his office finishing up some paperwork after a long day when he heard a knock on his door. He knew who it was without asking, only one person who would be coming to see him at this late hour. “Come in Daisy,” he said, looking up from his paperwork. She walked in and closed the door behind her.

“Hey,” Daisy said, walking towards his desk slowly. “How’s the paperwork going?” Coulson put his pen down and sat back in his chair.

“It’s going, but I think we both know that’s not what you came here to talk about,” he answered her, gesturing for her to sit down. “So tell me, what’s on your mind?”

Daisy sighed and looked down, bracing herself before sitting down quickly. “How do you do it?” she asked.

“What, do you mean my general cool and unflappable demeanor, or did you have something more specific in mind?” Coulson asked her. Daisy gave a slight smile at that.

“Not exactly, well, yeah kind of,” she said, clearly nervous.

“Daisy, what’s going on?” he asked, starting to get worried. She inhaled deeply before asking what had been on her mind since before she entered his office.

“I’m in charge of people now. Joey, Elena, Lincoln and I’m… I’m terrified that I’m not a good leader” she explained, fear plain on her face. Coulson felt sympathy shoot through him at the revelation, having experienced something similar himself.

“Well, I’m pretty confident that you are,” he tried to reassure her.

“How can you be so sure of that?” Daisy asked. Coulson took a deep breath, trying to find the right words to help her.

“I get where you’re coming from, I do,” he started. “Look, when Fury gave me control of S.H.I.E.L.D I wasn’t sure that I could do it either. Honestly there are still days where I question if I can.” Daisy looked at him with surprise.

“But you always seem so sure of everything,” she said, causing Coulson to laugh.

“I appreciate that you think that, and I guess my acting is better than I thought,” he said. “But the thing is, I think part of being a good leader is being afraid that you’re doing it wrong.”

“How do you live with that?” she questioned, still unsure of herself.

“I’m not gonna lie to you, it’s hard. I guess you just have to try and always do right by them so that when you make a mistake, and you will make a mistake, they’ll have your back.” Coulson said, seeing so much of himself in Daisy at that moment. “Mistakes are gonna happen, no one can be perfect all the time, god knows I haven’t been. I’ve found the important thing is how you handle those mistakes.”

“You’ve been pretty close to perfect,” she countered. Coulson was silent for a moment before replying to her.

“You don’t think I was terrified when Ward dropped Fitzsimmons into the ocean? You don’t think I blamed myself? I’m responsible for all of you, and when one of you gets hurt, I feel like that’s on me,” he told her, emotion clear in his voice.

“That must be really hard,” Daisy admitted.

“It is,” he agreed. “But I also wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’d rather be the one to have your backs than to have anyone else do it, and if I take that responsibility, it means no one else has to. The reality is, being the leader means doing the hard job, the one that terrifies you more than anything else,” he explained.

“Yeah, that sounds like it sucks,” she replied.

“Oh it does,” he said with a laugh. “But someone has to do it.”

“I guess I would rather be the one looking after them. At least I know I have their best interests at heart,” she admitted.

“See, now you’re starting to get it,” he said with a smile.

“You know, you’re really good at this whole pep talk thing,” Daisy said with a smile of her own.

“I’ve had a lot of practice,” Coulson replied with a shrug. “For what it’s worth, I think you’re doing a great job, Daisy.”

“Thanks Coulson,” she said, his trust in her meaning more than she could say. “It means a lot, coming from you.”

They sat in silence for another moment just looking at each other. Finally, Coulson broke. “Now, did my incredible and rousing speech do the job or am I gonna have to pull something else out of my sleeve?” he asked.

“What else do you have up your sleeve?” Daisy asked, curiosity colouring her voice. Coulson thought about it for a moment, coming up completely empty.

“You know, I have no idea. I was kind of banking on you not choosing that option,” he admitted. Daisy burst out laughing at that.

“As much as I would love to hear you fumble to come up with something, the speech did its job,” she said, standing up from her chair. “Thanks AC,” she said, heading towards the door.

“Anytime,” Coulson told her. “Although, maybe next time we could do this at, you know, not 2am?”

“Hey, you’re the one who’s still awake,” she argued, swinging the door open and backing out slowly with her hands up. “If you didn’t want to be bothered, you shouldn’t have kept your light on.”

“You make a good point,” he acquiesced. “Goodnight Daisy,” he concluded.

“Goodnight Coulson,” Daisy returned, and with that she was gone. As the sound of her footsteps faded, Coulson resumed his paperwork, feeling hope bloom in his chest. He had meant what he said about Daisy being a great leader, and although she still had a lot to learn, he knew she’d be even better than him eventually. One thing was for sure, the future of S.H.I.E.L.D was safe in her’s and the rest of the team’s hands.

[chaoticcreative14]

Hey all! I’m currently on break from uni for a while so I can finally get back into writing! Since I haven’t written in forever I’m taking requests to get me started. I’m open to writing fluff/angst/smut, etc. so whatever you want, feel free to ask!

FANDOMS I’LL DEFINITELY WRITE FOR:

The Last of Us

The Pitt

MCU

Agents of Shield

Nancy Drew

The Wheel of Time

Star Trek (J.J. Abrams Movies)

Star Trek Strange New Worlds

OTHER FANDOMS:

If you have a request for a fic that’s for a fandom which is not on the list feel free to send an ask still! There are a lot of fandoms I’m open to writing for, these are just the ones that came to me off the top of my head. The only reason I may say no to a request is if I’m not sure what movie/tv show/etc. the characters are from but even then I’ll see what I can do!

[chaoticcreative14]

mohan, smiling at abbot: what else you got in your go bag?

abbot: