#- it’s hard to get through evenings where you crave for somebody to be close by.

[vetteltea]

Love Will Always Show | CL16 & CS55

Summary: The choice of a lifetime is yours to make, your husband and lover both longing for your heart. They face conflict, choices and most importantly, one another.

Word Count: 8.4K [& a bit more]

Warnings: angst, mentions of cheating and dishonesty, manipulation, hospital talk.

Note: The fact I was a newbie to F1Blr when this started and now...here we are. I want to thank each and EVERY person who has ever read this series. It's changed everything for me, it is truly my love letter to you all and I hope you enjoy the finale. You are all forever in my heart and I cannot thank you all enough.

PART 1: A House, A Home | PART 2: Where Do We Go? | PART 3: ‘You Think, You Know’ | PART 4: 'Love Will Always Show'

Love is a gentle hand cradling your back. 

Time had suspended when your body had collapsed onto the rough floor outside of the Scuderia Ferrari hospitality. Immediately, several scarlet-clad personnel were running over, shouts echoing across the open space, somebody mumbling that they needed to get you somewhere safe and warm before your body temperature dropped dangerously. 

There’s a question of who to call; your father wasn’t in the country, ever since your mother’s funeral, he’s become silent, your siblings having been lovingly sent to stay with a close aunt. He had been absent from the previous Ferrari meeting, his assistant having sent a message to say he would be absent for a little longer. Clearly, the death of your mother was taking a toll. 

The next obvious choice of course, was your husband. However, with the win that he had been craving for oh-so-long, he was currently wrapped up in press, endless ‘congratulations’ messages from celebrities and presenters alike. Nobody would know where to find the monegasqué right now, let alone how to tell him of his wife’s status whilst surrounded by endless television cameras and sly reporters. 

There’s no need for him, anyway. Leaving the media pen after vigorous questioning of his loyalty to the team and his current emotions on a premature end to the race, Carlos’ dark eyes quirk to the side, registering the crowd of bodies circling the hospitality area. They only widen when the realization dawns on his clouded mind that it’s you, your body is the one thing they are all crowding around. 

His steps break into a run, no signal being given to his media manager nor his cousin. He speaks a few sharp, spanish words, creating a break in the circle, able to insert his toned body into the sea of red, immediately squatting, one hand coming out to elevate the back of your head. He knows how particular you could be with your hair, how you insisted on now sleeping on silk pillowcases to keep it healthy. Asphalt ground was not comfortable nor hygienic. 

There’s talk; talk about whether to take you to the hospital, whether to wait for your husband to return and make the decision. Carlos feels his blood curdle at the use of marital status. His teammate, the man who had treated you no better than the way he had treated bonds of trust, was the one to make a choice of your health and wellbeing. 

He simply cannot stand for that. 

“We need to take her to the hospital.” He interrupts the commotion, the strong tone settling over the panicked employees. “Surely that is the best place for her if she is unconscious, no?” The whispers and mumbles which echo the surrounding members of the team signify agreement. 

There’s a discussion of how to bring you in without drawing attention to the media. Surely, if a giant ambulance or even a medical car was to storm through the paddock, no doubt endless media outlets would be creating headlines before even bothering to speak to anybody present. The Spaniard is already making his own choice, using his arms to gently adjust your body.

He shouldn’t; he really shouldn’t be moving you, not when you haven’t been checked for broken bones or concussion. Yet, the idea of the most beautiful girl, Mariposa, lying on a hard floor with no form of comfort or safety sickens him to his stomach. Carlos is still gentle with the movements, letting your head lean into his stomach, one hand is supporting your back, tanned fingers digging gentle patterns into the curve of your skin. The other one traces once, twice, three times around your cheekbone, dark eyes transfixed on your features. 

You must have hit your skin when falling to the ground; there’s a graze dancing across your cheekbone, specks of dirt resting in between each knock. The man cradling you is gentle, moving his shirt just enough up his body that he’s able to take the hemmed end, feather it across your cheek in an attempt to remove the offending chunks. 

Someone nudges Carlos’s shoulder, more in an attempt to tell him somebody was just outside the Paddock; that they could drive you to the hospital right now. He…he can’t bring himself to leave you. A strong grasp lifts you from the ground, holding you close to his chest, murmuring that he would get you there, and he supposed somebody would have to find Charles. 

The area grows quiet; Carlos’ pace draws away from the Paddock and to the back entry. He was thankful that the entirety of the drivers were still either trapped in the media or with their own teams, celebrating or commiserating. He had enough of that for one day; an entire six laps was barely worth speaking about. 

You’re still unconscious, still limp in his arms. However, there’s a rise and fall of your chest, you’re still breathing. That’s all he could ask for at this present time. He silently promises himself there and then that when you wake up, he’s making his final move. Where Charles has been playing chequers, he is playing chess; he had proven that even whilst you were stuck with your estranged husband, he would love you regardless.

There’s a people carrier in the car park, he’s certain he’s seen various drivers use it before; a built-in stretcher lies in the back, it’s ideally a discreet ambulance. The media could be brutal with gossiping when any driver had to leave the track. It would look worse if Charles Leclerc’s wife was seen leaving the paddock with his teammate. The driver of the vehicle nods when seeing the two get closer, stepping to sit in the driver’s seat whilst Carlos adjusted his grasp. 

He lays you down onto the stretcher; it’s secured, you’ll be safe for the drive. The man can’t help but feel a draw of protectiveness over you. What on earth had caused it to collapse? Had he done something? Blood boiled, if your husband had done anything to cause this, he could personally guarantee that Charles would not be finishing any races for the remainder of the season. He would make sure of that. 

His attention is caught by the glimmer of silver on your left hand; your wedding band. When he reaches the car, tucks you into the seat carefully and makes sure the seatbelt is secure around your frame, his fingers glide over your hand, removing the band and putting it in his own pocket. 

‘It’s for your own good,’ he tells himself. ‘If your fingers swell up, they may need to cut it off.’ He could tell himself this story a thousand times; it doesn't hide the fact that his true intention in this moment is simple; for once, he could be the devoted husband, taking his wife to be nursed back to health. 

The Spainard leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your forehead, murmuring that you were going to be okay, that he would stay with you the entire time. The driver shouts, telling him to take a seat so they could get there before the press figured out something was wrong. He kisses your skin once more, before closing the doors, sprinting to the backseat, throwing his body in carelessly. 

Angst overtakes his senses, shouting at the driver to start the car, he doesn't care about being strapped in. This way, he’s able to lean over the backseat, one hand reaching out to clasp at your own. You need to know that somebody is there, that he is there for you. He’s always been there for you. The car pivots out of the parking space, beeling for the main road and to the hospital. 

Love is a scream for your name. 

“Charles, tu dois ralenir!” Joris is insisting he needs to slow down the car; turning the current Leclerc in hospital into a duo would not be a satisfying outcome. 

Ever since he’s been told, all your husband can see is red mist. One Ferrari employee had sprinted up to him whilst he was in the midst of cameras, the grin on his face as he’s finally able to seek his wife out, wanting nothing more than to skip on the Scuderia celebrations and take you instead, your beaming smile radiating the energy he had been bathed in. 

It’s funny how life can change in the matter of a few moments; one second, he’s on top of the world, the next, Charles is pushing through every media outlet, fan and celebrity, barging himself into his driver’s room. He doesn't have time to remove his fireproofs, to pick up any of his belongings apart from his car keys. He isn’t communicating, french profanities fall from his lips, shaking his head in rage that nobody could find him to tell him. Tell him that his wife had been taken to hospital. 

Joris had been the one to sprint after him; he knew better than most, when Charles saw nothing but mist, there was no getting to him, not whilst he was determined to do something. The driver knew in his heart his best friend was not to blame; after all, he had no idea of your disappearance, he had been with Charles almost the entire time. And yet…he can’t bring himself to even speak to Joris. Not until the duo make it to his rented car, Charles is adamant he is driving. 

He only starts speaking when his best friend tells him to slow down. The driver barely does, only drawing to a slower pace when he sees the traffic lights start to build in front of him. Even in a panic, he respects road rulings. Drawing to a stop, the man finally has a second to take a shaky, unbalanced breath, angry tears pooling at the bottom of his eyes. 

“Why did nobody tell me my wife was at the hospital?” His voice is strained, he’s clearly holding back tears, whether they’re angry or fearful is a different question. “She’s my- she’s my wife!” He can’t stop repeating it, as if it’s a prayer. His wife. His wife. 

“She’ll be okay.” Joris knows that’s quite possibly the worst thing he could say to his best friend, but it’s the only thing he can bring himself to say. “She will be. C’est juste par précaution.” 

“Putain!” Charles’ words are sharp, immediately pressing on the acceleration as the light switches to green, overtaking three cars in a matter of moments. He’s a man of regret, he has been ever since he realized how much he adores you. In that moment, he can’t help but think of everything he could have done differently that afternoon. He could have come and found you right after the podium, could have given you his jacket and told you to stay in his driver’s room, he would come and get you after. He could- he could of-

He could of waited with you after the funeral. He could have come and picked you up from Milan when you went to spend time with Carlos. He could have deleted his mistress’ number, and told her he was married. 

“Tourner à gauche.” Joris tells his best friend to turn left, the Hospital Car Park coming into view. Charles turns the car, immediately eyes are roaming for any space, anywhere he could put the car. A sharp whistle and point from his best friend shows him a space right by the Emergency Department, parking the vehicle in possibly the worst way he ever has done. Within three seconds, the engine is switched off, seatbelts are unbuckled, and he’s shouting to Joris to pay for the parking, he needs to get inside. 

For a driver, his sense of direction is becoming worse. It takes him a solid minute to read a sign, before his legs break into a sprint, skidding into a bustling Emergency Room. There’s old men, leant over in pain, convinced they’re dying. A child snuffling, masses of paper towels on her head. A woman with a twisted ankle, her attention engrossed by the magazine in her grasp. It smells of hand sanitiser and bleach, the yellow walls are hurting his eyes. 

A woman behind the desk taps the counter, drawing his attention. “Hey- Sir!” She snaps. You can’t blame her; it’s hour thirteen of her fifteen hour shift. “You can’t be in here unless you’re hurt-”

He shouts your name. It’s as if he completely forgets he’s in a building. Charles is embedded in a maze, even if a lady in front of him can pull up your immediate location, he needs to find you himself, and he needs to find you now. 

It isn’t until Joris comes in, having heard his best friend scream your name, that he overtakes Charles so overcome that he’s now hiding his head in his hands, unable to say anything that wasn’t your name. His ears prick up when the second man starts speaking, giving the woman your first name, your last name- Leclerc- and when you had been bought in. There’s a light tapping of the keyboard, she tells Joris you are in the department round the corner, room ten-

Charles is gone before she can finish her sentence, catapulting down the hallway, dodging round endless people, frantically searching for doors with numbers, not names. He sees the number four. Six. Eight. 

Number Ten rolls into view. Without a single word, his hand latches around the door handle, pushing so violently the door smacks onto the inside wall. His eyes immediately fly to the bed, you’re lying there, so unconscious, still so beautiful, some strips over the graze on your cheek. Still, arms to either side, one hand connected to an IV, clearly in an attempt to rehydrate you. His first question is the location of your wedding ring, where on earth was it? Has it been taken away? It’s a question he completely forgets about when his gaze travels further. 

The other hand is being held by a Spanish man he knows all too much about. 

Love is notes left on a coffee cup. 

Both men stood, silently hovering over your body whilst the nurse came in to run a course of tests, check your blood pressure, the IV line, make sure you were being cared for in the best capacity. Each held a coffee cup, Charles’ still primarily full, he couldn’t stomach anything; he felt sick from seeing you lie here, not laughing, smiling, speaking. Carlos had downed the drink bought in by Joris in a matter of moments; to him, it was fuel. Something to keep him awake until you woke up. 

Whilst Charles was the one to ask questions; ‘Do you know what caused this? Is she going to have any long-term issues? Does she need any assistance when she wakes up?’ Carlos has captured the marker which has rested alongside the clipboard of your notes, his tongue poked out in concentration. The marker grazes along the cup, leaving a note, drawing a tiny picture of a butterfly- Mariposa- and placing the cup on your table, a silent message for if you woke up and god forbid- he wasn’t there.

The nurse draws away from your body, diverting her next task to the two men. 

“I need to continue the examination but…” She looks to the door. “I cannot have you both in here. You need to wait outside, the Doctor will come in for further tests-”

“Can one of us wait here?” Carlos is the first to interrupt, the look on the woman’s face tells him he’s made a mistake. 

“Both.” She clarifies, pointing at himself, then at his teammate. “One and two. You need to wait outside. If she wakes up or there’s any…issues, we will let you know.” 

It turns out, both men are hesitant to leave you; Charles moves first, crouching by your side, running a gentle hand over your hairline, pressing his lips carefully to your temple. He’s murmuring, french words of adoration and comfort, that he will be right there when you need him. 

When one steps away, the other comes forward. Carlos doesn't say anything, instead tracing a gentle finger across your cheek. His touch tells you everything, it speaks volumes. He loves you, he’ll be outside, don’t be afraid to come running into his arms like you had done once before. The nurse begins to lose her patience, ushering both men out into the corridor, telling them to sit in the plastic chairs provided or go somewhere else; she really didn’t care. 

The scene is reminiscent of two boys sitting outside of the principal’s office; Charles’ head hides in his hands, leaning forward, still dressed in his fireproofs. He’s tied the sleeves around his waist, the dark undershirt now drenched in sweat from the driving, both on track and to the hospital. 

He feels movement next to him, Carlos’ hand dips into his pocket, pulling out something small, silvery. Her wedding ring. He supposes Carlos means it as a sign of goodwill, that he kept it safe. In the Monégasques mind, it’s the fuel to light the fire. Scoffing, he snatches the jewelry off of his teammate, placing the band onto his pinky finger, it’s the only one it would fit on, the only way he could keep it safe. 

“Funny. You took it off her.” He’s growing mad, aggravated that Carlos wouldn’t just go away and leave him and his wife alone. Hadn’t he done enough already? “Why don’t you go back to Natasha?” The blonde ex-media woman for their team is referenced. Carlos opens his mouth, ready to snap back, it was a low blow for Charles to reference his history with the woman. 

“I know what you did.” He huffs. There’s something…different. Different in the way he speaks to Carlos now compared to every other day. The polite, civil conversation is gone, the fact he couldn’t pass judgment because of his own actions has evaporated. “I know you invited her to Madrid just to make a move.” He remembers seeing the instagram stories, how your eyes were wide, full of life. He made you remember life is beautiful. “You kept her close. You wanted her and didn’t like that she was mine.” 

“Yours?” He scoffs. “She’s not your property, Charles.” 

“No. But she’s my wife. I’m the one she lies next to every night, I’m the one who will care for her in sickness and health, who’s shoulder was leant on through every bad time.” He pauses. “Who picked her up after you coaxed her into your bed.” He laughs. Actually, laughs. The memory replayed in his head, how sleepy you looked as he guided you back into the SUV, how your heart sank when seeing the blonde approach his front door. In that moment, you had convinced yourself you meant nothing to Carlos apart from lust. 

Charles was a jealous man; he had taken pride in stripping off his teammates' clothing, wrapping you in his own, soft hoodie. You were his. Carlos wouldn’t care for you the way he did, he was a man too full of lust. He was convinced the Spainard didn’t make you laugh, didn’t make you smile, didn’t make you come- 

“You corrupted her, Carlos.” He finishes. “I know what you did-”

“-And I know what you did.” Carlos snarls. He doesn't care about anything more; he knows all too well that his teammate could go crying to the Ferrari bosses, have him removed from the team in a blink of an eye, throwing some false information out which he would have to comply with. But he doesn't care. His affection has grown too strong for that. 

“I know everything, Charles.” He’s monotone, he’s stating facts. “I know how she waited at home for you on her birthday, whilst you were in your mistress’ bed.” Carlos remembers asking you about your plans the previous week, how you had brushed them off. “I know how she made you dinner every night, how you refused to eat it.” Charles feels his stomach drop, the endless leftovers stacked neatly in the fridge, the meals he had never bothered to try. “I know on your wedding night, you came into the hotel room drunk, covered in bites and she slept on the sofa-”

“Enough!” Charles’ voice shouts, standing up from the plastic chair in the corridor. He doesn't have to hear this, he can’t bear to hear this. One mistake a day was something he was always able to brush off. Hearing each and every one of his infidelities laid out in front of him sent his mind into overdrive. “You have no right to comment on-”

“On what?” The Spainard is standing up now, chest out and arms folded. “On your marriage?” He laughs, he smirks. “Can you call it that? A marriage is a bond between two people who love one another-”

“I love her!” Charles cuts him off, stepping closer. “I love her.” He repeats himself. Carlos looks gobsmacked, shaking his head in denial. 

“You have a really weird way of showing her you love her.” He continues to poke, to prod. “Sharing a bed with another woman is not how you show love-”

“I admitted to my mistakes!” He’s quick to defend himself, how the restraining order was placed and a lawsuit filed, how he promised if you wanted to know anything, see anything, he would let you. How he would spend the rest of his days always feeling dread and regret. “I fixed them-”

“Who says she still loves you?” Carlos has snapped.

Charles hates to admit that he may be right. Is it really fair for him to expect your love after everything that has happened in the past year? It didn’t matter how many times he begged, he pleaded or promised. The man you had married had spent the better part of 365 days in the arms of another woman, a woman that as he stood here, clinging onto any hope of his marriage, meant absolutely nothing to him. 

His slim fingers trail down, circling the cool band which rested on his left finger. He had decided there and then, he would keep it on, always. There would be no more reasoning, none. If Lewis could wear his earrings, Charles would wear his wedding ring. He looks back up, Carlos still boring into him with dark eyes, the anger he radiated almost entirely visible. 

“Do you love her?” He presses. He needs to know; he doesn't bring himself to care that you had spent a night in his arms, not when he had done it to you a thousand times over. The idea makes him sick, but nothing compared to the idea that you are in love with somebody that isn’t him, not when he needs nothing but for you to come home, back to your home with him. 

Charles swears he feels vomit rise into his mouth when Carlos nods. He’s not stupid, not really. He knows how he fell for you properly in the past few weeks, how for Carlos who has been in awe of your affection and attention, the center of every race weekend you had reluctantly attended. It may have been to support him, but you could still enjoy the fact that Carlos would be there, too. 

Your husband isn’t sure what he wants to do anymore. If there wasn’t an examination happening, he would have run into your private room and locked the door. Instead, his glassy eyes gaze up, catching Carlos’ dark ones. It hits him at once; his teammate, somebody who he once considered a close- no, best friend, was the one who had taken his wife away from him. His brain can’t catch up with his body movements, the red mist clouds over once more. 

Charles Leclerc punches Carlos Sainz in the nose. 

He doesn't intend for it to be a strong punch; Formula One drivers are a lot stronger than they realize, and the contact not only causes the Spaniard to knock back, shouting out in pain, but a sharp sensation rockets through Charles’ clenched fist, wiggling his fingers as they relax. Carlos’ nose is immediately red, becoming scarlet by the moment, though no blood has fallen. Your husband’s immediate reaction is ‘Should have punched him harder.’

He doesn't have time to think about anything else, not before he has two strong hands on his chest, shoving him harshly. The sudden sensation causes him to lose balance, falling to the floor and landing on his back. A shock radiates through his body, Carlos looming over him, clearly ready for a second punch. 

That thought is drawn away when the door to your room opens, both men immediately staring at the nurse, her hair worn and eyes tired. Before either man can throw a question at her, she speaks. 

“She’s still not awake, we’re going to bring her around in an hour, but she’s going to have to stay overnight for observation. If one of you could get her some overnight things-”

“I can.” Charles immediately cuts off the nurse, pulling himself to sit up and stand from the floor. “I’m her husband. I will get them.” It’s a subtle jab to the man in front of him, Carlos still holding his nose, convinced it was about to start bleeding any moment. He would have gone and sought out attention for himself, if he hadn’t felt a sharp vibration in his back pocket, a phone call. In any other time, he would have ignored it. But he knows who it is, he knows how important it is. 

Without a word, Carlos answers the call, rapidly speaking in Spanish as he walks down the hall. 

Love is a pocket square at the bottom of a suitcase.

The contrast of Charles leaving the hospital was night and day to him arriving. He hadn’t spoken a word to Joris, apart from expressing that he needed to go back to the hotel to get your overnight items. Although it was barely a ten minute drive away, every minute felt like a century; he wanted nothing more than to go back to the hotel, sit by your side and hold your hand until you woke up. 

He could have sent Joris back, given him the room key and told him to grab some things, but it didn’t seem right. The idea of his best friend going through your suitcase didn’t sit comfortably with him. Moreover, he didn’t know. Charles knew; he knew what pajamas you found the most comfortable, what outfit would be easiest for you to travel back in, how you wanted your panties and socks paired together and how your phone charger had to loop clockwise. 

The ornate hotel room looks dull without you; your suitcase still rests in the bottom of the wardrobe; you had hung up evening wear, dresses for the inevitable after-parties. Folded in your suitcase remained your other clothing. Charles is quick to select his items; the tropical cotton pajamas. You had bought him a pair in the same fabric, telling him that they would be the comfiest thing to sleep in. Your stitched jumper and comfiest jeans. You had worn those jeans when you had tagged along to his photoshoot for the Ferrari livery, holding his water and the APM Monaco jewelry he couldn’t wear. Your outrageously expensive hairbrush. You had brushed his hair through after a particularly bad race, whispering promises that it would get better, that the car was going to evolve for him, the best driver on the grid. 

Bile rises to Charles’ stomach and with no warning, he sprints to the bathroom, dropping to his knees by the toilet and throwing up the barely-there contents of his stomach. He had barely eaten, barely drank any water, but couldn’t help the sickness in his tummy. 

He pulls away from the toilet basin, eyes watery, breath trying to catch up with the speed and cries.

Charles doesn't realize it’s happening at first, he hasn’t cried like this in so long; the kind of crying where you can’t fathom words, you don’t make a sound because you’re crying so deeply. The kind where your chest is exploding and your heart feels like it’s going to explode. The kind where all he wants is for his mother to cradle him like she did when he was five, run her hands through his hair and whisper him words of comfort.

This time, he doesn't want his mother, he wants you. 

It’s selfish, it’s so incredibly selfish and it hurts to know that it’s taken him until now to realize what you mean to him. It would never happen, but his wound-up head can only close his eyes and visualize you running in, pulling his head into your chest and running your hands through his dark tufts, pressing cool lips to his forehead and promising him over and over that it was going to be okay. You were going to be okay. 

He lets himself cry for five minutes; he times it because he wants to collect your things and make his way back, Joris was waiting in the car. When the five minutes are over, he pinches his nose, taking short, ugly gasps until his eyes remain bloodshot but not blurred. The sound of the toilet flushing echoes through the hotel room, making his way out of the bathroom and to the items he had hurriedly dropped atop of your suitcase.

Nimble fingers cradle each item, carefully rolling and tucking them into a pillowcase; he didn’t have a bag big enough to suffice each item and couldn’t bring himself to bring your entire suitcase along, it almost seemed as if once you had it, you could disappear from his life. At least this way, he could have one final farewell if you chose to leave. The items are almost secure, until his grip on the pillowcase folds, glassed eyes catching a glimmer of blue hidden at the bottom of the case. With no hesitation, he pulls on the fabric. His heart drops on the realization of the item. 

It’s a pocket square. More specifically, it’s his pocket square from your wedding. 

You don’t know when you had started packing it, but you supposed it was from your mother’s own doings. After her wedding to your father, she had always carried around her ‘something blue,’ as a gesture of good luck, of safety. After the first time you had found out about Charles’ mistress, you had discreetly tucked the fabric into your bag, carrying it around, a silent hope your husband would return to you. 

It hadn’t worked in Jeddah. In Imola. In Spa. In Monaco. You had reluctantly taken it from your bag one evening, on the plane home from consoling your family, using your pen to doodle in the very corner ‘Mr and Mrs Leclerc,’ a silent fantasy of the loving marriage you had dreamed of. 

That night was the first time you and Charles ever shared a bed. 

The fabric lingers between his fingers, the blue contrasting against the silver of your ring, still resting on his pinky finger. Now changed into his own clothes, he slides the ring off, wrapping it gently in the pocket square and sliding it into his trouser pocket. As he does, he recognises your handwriting, the titles printed in the bottom of the fabric. 

He can’t help the tears rolling down his cheeks once again. 

Love is a desperate telephone call.

Carlos is still pacing around the outside courtyard of the hospital, having been on hold for a grand total of seventeen minutes. He is not a man of patience, he is not a man of quiet. 

The phone buzzing in the corridor had been a welcome call, despite the situation. His lawyer, finally ringing him back after what felt like days of apprehension. He had dipped from the public eye to try and grab hold of some privacy, slipping in his wireless headphone so as not to hold the device to his ear for hours upon hours. 

Almost thirty minutes ago, his lawyer had called him, confirming his thoughts of the previous days. 

"You're not wrong." His lawyer has already clarified it once, twice, three times. "If there is evidence beyond a shadow of a doubt, then it is the correct term for a divorce.

Carlos feels his blood run cold. He loves her, he's as certain as that as he is of the fact that the sky is blue and his win in Silverstone. The man wants nothing more than to make her feel cherished, adored. Taking a bite out of his teammate was just a bonus feature. 

That had been a few days ago, when the anger had surpassed him after Natasha’s return, how that made him look as bad, if not worse than Charles. He’d immediately sent her packing, blocked her on every form of media, gone as far as to insist if she ever came for a visit, he wouldn’t be present. 

The second part, the evidence, had been laid out all too perfectly. 

The line suddenly clicks, signaling his lawyer had returned. Carlos doesn't wait for a verbal queue, the audible sign of his return is more than enough. 

 “Do you have it?” He asks, barely any time to let the man on the other end of the phone respond. “You must have it, no? It should have been sent. I made sure it was sent.”

“I have it.” He clarifies. “I have them right here.” A rustle of paper is heard from the other end of the telephone, content of an envelope being spilled onto his desk. “Are you sure you want me to send these to be confirmed as evidence? That the women in the photographs will not retaliate?”

Carlos had not been entirely honest with you. Not about his knowledge of Charles’ situation. Ever since the confession all those months ago, the understanding that you knew of Charles’ affair, he had been playing a long, patient game. He had photographs, evidence of the mistress’ appearance at each paddock, her arms snaking around Charles’ body, kisses between the duo. How he could continue to do so, whilst you, the epitome of beauty, sat in his drivers’ room, playing the doting wife.  At one point, he had considered going directly to the press, directly to Ferrari themselves to out their ‘Golden Boy.’ 

And then…he had seen you with him in the Paddock that one race, looking through the window of his driver’s room. How your fingers latched onto one another, how genuinely shattered you looked when she had shown up yet again, lingering outside of the hospitality area. The guilt snuck through him, how he had seen her arrive, and yet failed to mention to you, give you any warning of her presence. 

Even if he had been the one to invite her. Even if he had been the one to press her about sending the photographs to Charles, not blackmail. Merely a reminder of his actions, how much he supposedly missed his mistress. 

“She wouldn’t.” He’s quick to respond. “She wouldn’t care.” He’s not wrong, his mistress being in the limelight would only elevate her status, with the way his teammates’ brain worked, it would more than likely draw them back to one another. 

“And Mrs. Leclerc?” 

It’s the first time Carlos has hesitated. Even if he couldn’t admit it to himself, he knew that your relationship with Charles had grown, that ambient it was made paper-thin, the trust was slowly beginning to come back. He thinks about how your eyes blinked widely, in awe of your husband on the podium earlier that day, how it supposedly didn’t matter he had spent most of your marriage wrapped in her arms, you still looked at him like that. Did you look at him like that? Like the way he looked at you. 

This action could draw out a multiverse of reactions but at the end of the day, he had settled with two. The first was that you understood, that you would see the evidence, and understand the case. Divorce Charles and marry him, even if it meant he would give up everything. 

The second is that you would see the chaos he caused and you would never speak to him again. 

“Mr. Sainz?” The voice at the end of the telephone draws him from his questioning, running a hand across his red, swollen nose. It wasn’t broken, but god it was hurting. Bruised, most likely. “I need an answer.” 

He needed to speak to you. 

“Can you just-” He huffs, running a hand through his dark hair, his fingers almost getting caught in the strands. Of course his hair was tangled, he’d been doing nothing but pulling on it ever since he arrived at the hospital. “Let me speak to her. Hold it for 24 hours. You can do that, yes?” It’s not even a question now, nor a request. It’s a demand. He can’t do this, he can’t openly destroy your marriage for his own sake without speaking to you, without knowing for a fact that you love him.

Your name is carved onto his soul, onto his skin. The first thing he thinks about in the morning, and the last thing he would think about at night. There is no life he wishes to live in if you’re not there. Even as his friend. 

There’s suddenly a light tap against glass, snapping the man’s attention from his device. He mumbles something in Spanish, telling his lawyer he would call him back, dreading who was coming out into the private courtyard. 

He visibly relaxes when he sees it’s just a man, sneaking out whilst tears pool on his lower lashline, giving Carlos a warming nod. 

“You don’t mind if I join you, do I?” The Spainard shakes his head. “My wife- she’s just being induced and wanted some space. She’s…” He gestures, trying to explain to a complete stranger how a few minutes ago, his wife wanted to cry and shake her head, but wanted nothing to do with him. It was all his fault. 

Carlos offers a warm hand on his back, patting him firmly. “Congratulations. Do you know what you're having?” He’s invested, anything to distract him from his previous phone call, the weight of a decision on his shoulders.

The stranger grins. “A girl.” He smiles harder. “I don’t mind, as long as they arrive happy and healthy. But god- a girl, just like her.” He thinks. Carlos thinks. In an alternative universe, he’s sat by your side, pressing kisses and praises to your skin, holding you tighter as your daughter enters the world, ready to meet her mother and father. She would be like you; your eyes, hair, smile. It would be another you to love, to adore. 

“Your first?” Carlos presses his question. The man sighs, shaking his head, shoving his hands into his pockets as he looks into the polished corridor. 

“No. She’s…” He pauses. “We got together after hiding how we felt for so long, how we wanted to be with one another.” He looks to Carlos, clearly ashamed and embarrassed of the situation. “I know how it sounds, but sometimes you can’t help it. I- I love her.” 

A band snaps in Carlos’ stomach; love knows no bounds. 

Love is waking up to think of your person.

The first thing you register when you come around is brightness. You’re not in the soft glow of the luxurious hotel room you and your husband had been given, nor the candle-lit bedroom of Carlos’ apartment. No, the light is bright, blinding. An off-white which made your eyes squint. 

Your senses are heightened; the only scent which flares through your nostrils is hand sanitiser and overpowering lilies. Nose scrunched, you attempt to wiggle your body upwards, aware of the IV line pinned into your hand. Panic immediately settled through your tummy, until your eyes flickered to the bag, realizing it was just water, they just wanted to rehydrate you. 

Hesitantly, you wiggle each part of your body. Arms, hands, fingers. You’re able to move, though you couldn’t…you couldn’t remember why you got here. Memories are hazy, you remember Charles’ podium, the way he kissed you so deeply, so lovingly. Carlos’ hand on your waist, pulling you back to stop you from the champagne trickling over your body. You were overwhelmed, overworked and…you guessed it just all became too much. 

You just about manage to turn your body, the first thing you’re aware of is that your cushion smells familiar. Warm nodes, sandalwood and seasalt. It’s a smell you’ve grown all too accustomed to, burying your face into their chest whilst you took refuge in his arms, in a hotel room. Charles had been there, already. His celebrations had clearly been cut short, whether or not it was for show or because he cared. 

The second thing is the coffee cup. Cardboard, the contents clearly already drained, but handwriting etched onto the side in a thick, black marker. The handwriting, the doodle of a tiny butterfly. Carlos had been there, too. 

There’s a sharp pinch on your cheek, fingers reach up to your skin and feel the butterfly strips against you. Immediately, a thousand questions come back to your mind, none of them being answered through your own memory. Instead, the door opens, a nurse in clean, bright uniform walking in, closing the door behind her. She beams at the realization you’re awake, shoulders relaxing. 

“You’re awake!” Her tone is incredibly warm, seemingly very happy you’ve decided to wake up on your own terms. She’s quick to move to your bedside, pressing the back of her hand to your forehead. “How are you feeling? Have you warmed up?” You’re not sure what she’s referencing, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. She takes the look on your face as unknowingness, able to fill in the gaps. 

“You collapsed on the track.” She’s trying to get through everything she needs to tell you. “We did some tests, you’re incredibly dehydrated for a start, you need to try and get some rest.” She pauses. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, we have collapses from dehydration every so often, more than you would realize.” Her eyes flicker down, finding it hard on how to phrase the next part of the question. “You also seem…incredibly worried.” You’re not sure how she could tell that from simply examining you, but you nod in confirmation. “Your blood pressure, it’s incredibly low. That’s why you fainted.”

“Yes.” You pause. How on earth were you about to explain the past twelve months to a nurse, a complete stranger? “There’s been some…reasons. You know, for the stress.” Her eyes soften, but the questioning continues. 

“Are you trying for a baby?” You shake your head. “Moving house?” A shake. “Have you…lost somebody recently.” 

You freeze, memory flickering to your mother, how in the midst of fixing your marriage, discovering your affection towards another, she had disappeared from the world. This time, you nod your head, drawing your knees up to your body, shivering. The nurse is quick to wrap a blanket over your shoulders, closer to the answer. 

“I lost my mother.” You breathe out, shaking your head. “I lost my mother, and she’s the only one I can go to.” Now you’ve started speaking, you can’t finish. “I want to make them happy. I want to make him happy.” There’s tears glassing over your eyes.

You want him. You want him right now. 

She sympathizes, she understands. “Sometimes, all you need is for them to tell you it’s going to be okay, right?” She lets her words trail off, turning to the door of your room. “He’s outside. He’s been waiting to see you.”

Your blood freezes.

“Would you like me to get him?” 

You nod before you’ve even realized, your body clearly knows better than your mind. The nurse stands up straight, pacing towards the door as you feel your heart begin to race harder, frantically. She steps out of the room, a minute mumble on the other side, clearly a warning to be incredibly careful. It’s barely a minute before the door swings back open, dark hair and frantic panting. 

You glance up, your heart softens at those eyes. 

The eyes that you, the reader, wanted to see as you glanced to the door.

GREEN EYES [CL16 Ending]

BROWN EYES [CS55 Ending]

This is everyone who asked to be tagged! @Mac-daddy-210 @aundercover@barnestatic@omgsuperstarg@chimchimjiminie16@caelum-the-part-time-nihilist @magicalcowboyarbiter @gaslasysblog@junetto @beatrizmel-472 @motorsp0rt@crowdthena@screemqueen@lewislvr@styles-sunflower@itspaddockprincess@adeptustemptations @amalialeclerc @meetmyblondemuffins@formulanando@lorarri@christianpulisic10@gaypoetsblog@thisbitxhs-blog@goldsainz@ru-kru@magical-spit@hrlzy@nooshytushie@gaslysainz@marvel-at-stucky@sugarvibez@adeptustemptations@roseseraj@leclercdream@pjofics@hecatesfavoritechild@poseforme@thisbitxhs-blog @adalynneva @meganlikes2purr @sabrinaselina55 @laneyspaulding19@heavenlyiecreature@pink-teddy-bear@nooshytushie@strawberries-and-racing@milasexutoire@ohthemisssery@florkt@obsessedwiththeideaofyou@ru-kru@myhomeworksnotdone@ineedafictionalman@bregarc@allywthsr@summerslike11@wildcupcake@willowpains@marlenamallowan@leclercloml@katzenwahnsinn@be-your-coffee-pot

[whore4abby]

ooo i always have so many ideas but then my mind just goes blank lol

maybe abby and the reader are at a family dinner at either abby or the readers like aunts house idk and they sneak off to a bathroom/somewhere more private to make out all messy but then the reader stops abby before anything else happens to tease her and get her all worked up??

sorry if that’s horrible 😭

-🎀

home for the holidays; abby anderson

i literally had so much fun with this aaaaaaa thank u so much for this request <3

warnings; smut - dry humping, pussy slapping, fingering, abby covering readers mouth, reader sucking abby’s fingers

wc; 1.8k…..i got very carried away hehe

you’ve always loved spending christmas with abby’s family you always have such a fun time even if it was a little hectic and frenzied at times. most of the afternoon was spent making small talk with the rest of abby’s family which abby herself was in the kitchen helping her dad make dinner.

you hung out with her siblings for a little while and played all of abby’s little nieces and nephews until you got a little disinterested and all you wanted was to just see your girl again.

you wander into the kitchen and see her stood at the island preparing ingredients for dinner. abby is doing her best to keep calm as she slices vegetables but you can tell she’s getting a little agitated with being around so many people in such a small space. you notice her hand gripping the knife harshly, freckled knuckles turning white and her jaw tightly clenched.

she’s so focused on chopping up the vegetables that she doesn’t hear you behind her.she suddenly feels a pair of warm hands on her shoulders. she nearly jumps out of her skin when she feels your touch, and she slowly turns around to face you, suddenly feeling more at ease at close proximity. "hi, my love..."

she leans into you for some much-needed comfort, leaning her head against your shoulder and you feel tension in her body beginning to dissipate. you can feel her breathing slowly becoming more even and regular as she relaxes against you.

the last couple days have been spent over at her dad’s house have been hectic and busy to say the least, leaving you little to no alone time with abby. she's been craving some time alone with you for fucking days, but the constant hustle and bustle of the house makes it difficult to fulfil.

all she wants is to have a moment where it's just the two of you, where you can spend some quality time together and not being able to do so us causing her to become more frustrated as the hours pass by.

she glances around and notices how busy the kitchen is, realising it would be pretty easy for the two of you to sneak away without anybody noticing. she’s suddenly pulling at your sleeve and ushering you through the house and up the staircase.

before you reach and empty room she’s pushing you up against the wall so hard the picture frames hung above your head rattle and clang against the drywall. you’re paranoid of somebody catching you and you swiftly pull her into the nearest empty guest room.

before you know it you’re pinned under her as she straddles you, her thick thighs pinning you down either side of your waist. abby chuckles as she struggles to take her shirt off due to the sheer excitement of finally getting her hands in you. you’re already a giggling mess as you reach up to help her pull her shirt up and over her head, sending it tumbling to the hardwood floor.

her hands start to slip up under your sweater as she desperately tugs it off your body before she starts to roughly grope your tits over your lacy bra. she gives a soft smirk and without warning, she leans down pressing her lips lovingly against yours as her hips grind against you. you pull apart for a second, looking up into her eyes with a needy gaze. “please, abs….been too long.”

“i know baby…i know.” she reassures you, glancing down at your lips before leaning close again. her mouth hungrily meeting yours, tongues swirling against each others, causing her to let out a soft groan.

her body is pressed tightly against yours as she continues to grind her hips against you. "i've missed this so much." she whispers, her voice a raspy murmur as her lips glide over your throat.

she wedges one of her thighs in between yours, her knee pressing into your cunt over your pants. your body practically goes lax as you finally get some stimulation exactly where you need it. “fuck. feels so good, abby~”

she continues to kiss you messily and grind against you, her breath becoming more shallow as she starts to lose herself in the moment. "mhm.. that's right~" she smirks, that familiar cocky look on her face as she sees how much you’re loving this.

abby's breathing becomes more shallow as she continues to rock her body against you with a bit more intensity, her teeth biting down on her bottom lip to stifle her voice as she lets out a deeper, more primal moan that makes your pussy clench around nothing whilst her knee bumps into your clit over and over.

just as the two of you start to get into a steady rhythm, you’re interrupted once again by someone calling out for the two of you from downstairs to tell you dinner is ready.

“every fucking time.” she curses under her breath as once again your alone time has been interrupted and she’s forced to pull away from you. her chest still heaving as she sits on the edge of the bed, grumbling to herself as she throws her shirt back over her head begrudgingly.

you lean up on your elbows, watching her as she practically sulks like a little child. “why does this keep happening?” you whine and throw yourself back on the bed dramatically. a second later you’re being pulled off of the bed by your forearms and your shirt is being slung over your head by abby.

you desperately hope no one will notice you slightly disheveled clothes and hair or your lip gloss that’s now sloppily smeared around your mouth. you giggle as abby reaches out to wipe the gloss away, ‘innocently’ opening up your mouth slightly and letting her thumb slip into the warmth of your mouth before she quickly retracts it. she grits her teeth and grips your jaw with her strong hand, “don’t be a fucking tease.” she mumbles sternly, pressing a long, hard kiss straight onto your lips before pulling away and dragging you out of the room and back downstairs.

hours later, everyone has gone to bed in their respective rooms for the night after all watching a movie together which finally leaves you and abby alone for the night.

she's laying on the sofa with you resting in between her legs. she watches as the next movie of the channel starts to play, but you can tell she's not really paying attention to it as her fingers run up and down your thighs teasingly, inching closer and closer to the edge of your panties each second.

she slowly starts to hike up the edge of your nightdress further exposing your thighs to cool air. she stops her teasing and eventually pulls the nightdress up over your hips so she can see the mess you’ve made in your panties. there’s already a wet patch right in the center of your pretty panties and she can’t help but run her finger over it lightly, seeing how you react.

your breath hitches in your throat and you look back over your shoulder at her wordlessly begging her to carry on. she smiles and pressing a kiss to your cheek before she pushes your panties to the side to get a glimpse of your pussy that she’s been desperate to get her hands on for the last four days.

“missed this fucking pussy so much.” she growls as she slaps your pussy sending a jolt of pleasure through your body and you whine out her name. she chuckles cruelly and slaps at your swollen clit again, harder this time whine has you loudly moaning out her name, causing her to cover your mouth with her giant hand, “shut up. be a good girl and shut up for me, yeah?”

you nod obediently and she starts to rub doting circles over your clit, snaking her other hand round to pinch at your nipples through the soft cotton of your nightdress. you’re trying you absolute best to stay quiet but you can’t help the squeaks that leave your lips, pathetic noises slipping through her hands attempt to muffle you. “shut the fuck up or i’m not letting you cum.”

your eyebrows furrow as you try your best to stay silent. her fingers move from your clit down to your weeping hole and she dips her fingers into your folds, inhaling sharply as she feels how wet you are. “god baby, bet you could take three fingers right now. you’re so fucking wet~” she slips her middle and ring finger inside, pumping them slowly as the pads of her digits bump into that spongy spot inside.

your back starts to arch into her and you attempt to pry her hand from your mouth, desperately wanting to kiss her and feel her tongue against yours. she doesn’t even have to speak as the look in her eyes says it all - she’s obviously serious about not letting you cum if you make even the tiniest of noises - she reluctantly pulls her hand away and your arm is quickly wrapping around her neck and pulling her down towards you. the both of your mouth meet in a rough kiss, tongues and teeth clashing together messily.

she adds a third finger and you have to bite down hard on your bottom lip to keep yourself from moaning as she stretches your tight hole out with her thick fingers. they’re pumping in and out of you at an eye-rolling pace, completely coated in your slick and glistening in the low light emanating from the christmas tree in the corner of the dim room.

abby notices how hard you’re biting down on your bottom lip and offers you the fingers of her free hand instead. she’s nudging your chin up towards her and before you can even reply your mouth is stuffed full of her fingers exactly how your pussy is.

she’s fucked you so dumb you don’t even think twice before your sucking her fingers into your mouth, moaning around them as she plunges her fingers in and out of your dripping hole pushing you closer and closer to the edge each time. “that’s a good girl, cum for me baby~” abby murmurs, kissing up and down the shell of your ear as she keeps up the pace of her fingers.

the base of her wrist smashing against you clit with every stroke has you literally drooling all over her fingers as your pussy clenches and squelches around her fingers obscenely. your head falls back against her chest and you’re whining and gasping as you cum all over her fingers, syrupy slick gushing out of your abused hole.

abby’s fingers eventually slow down and she slips them out of you, but not without you whining in protest at the empty feeling your experiencing without her fingers stretching you and keeping your pussy stuffed to the brim. “shh…shh, it’s okay. you did such a good job baby, i’m so proud of my girl~”

© 2023 whore4abby all rights reserved

[stylesparker]

put some love on me

PAIRING: Ellie Williams x Fem!reader

WORD COUNT: 2.1k

WARNINGS: bestfriend!ellie, self deprecating thoughts (but not really), touch starved reader who needs to get her shit together, some actual fluff for once

*not my gif

You wish you weren’t such a fucking coward.

All you want to do is just ask somebody for a hug. Just a hug. That’s it. You don’t have a clue why it’s so fucking hard.

Dina’s the only one who’s gotten you to talk about it. You were really feeling it one day—that craving feeling in your chest that makes you want to run up to somebody and take all the touch from them you can get. You were so embarrassed she even noticed. You still don’t know how, but Dina always says she has her ways.

Nothing she said really fixed much. Just that a lack of touch leads to a craving of more—something like that. She gave you a hug after that talk but it felt so awkward, like she had only done it because she knew you needed it, not that she had wanted to do it herself. You left pretty quickly after that.

But now, standing outside Ellie’s door, you’re getting that feeling again. It always creeps up at the worst moments when you’re not expecting it; usually you just go home and suffer in your bed, alone. It passes eventually, but it sucks. It’s like torture, knowing you want it, need it, but you don’t have the guts to go out and ask for it. Because you know anyone of your friends would gladly be of service, but it just makes you feel like a burden.

Which is why you want to run and hide when Ellie opens up the door. Because for some reason, her face just brings back that hunger you have for it. The look she always has that’s so soft and welcoming (something you haven’t noticed that’s just for you), and the way her arms tightly hold the person she’s hugging close to her chest always makes your head go a bit fuzzy.

Her mouth curves up into a soft grin, “Hey, babe, c’mon in.”

Not the babe. God no NOT the time.

You swear you’re gonna lose it before you even walk in the door. You hate when she calls you babe; or any term of endearment for that matter. Only because you love it, and you hate that you love it. It’s not helping the situation at hand by any means.

You try and hide your grimace when her hand falls to your lower back when she leads you inside. Despite the amount of times you’ve been in her room, you still look around each time as if it’s only the first. You notice she’s added an extra poster on the wall since you’ve been here last, and her eyes follow you around the room as you take it in.

She smiles when you start thumbing through her comics, humming to yourself when you see something you like. She walks back over to her bed where she was practicing a tune on her guitar before you got there.

“What were you playing,” you ask softly, “ya’ know, before I interrupted.”

Ellie rolls her eyes playfully, “Shut up, I literally asked you to come over here.”

She hears you whisper a quiet whatever as you go across the room and sit on her couch. Her eyebrows furrow in confusion when you sit down and curl into yourself. Usually when she gets you to come around you’re right by her side, she doesn’t know why that’s not the case today.

“What are you doing?”

“Hm?” Your head pops up, looking at her with a soft look on your face. You seem so… out of it.

“C’mere.” She waves you over, but you don’t budge.

You shrug and try to play it off, “I’m quite comfortable here, thank you.”

You realize she’s not having it one bit as she gets up and practically marches over to you, leaning her body down to pick you up swiftly into her arms.

“Oh my god- Ellie!” You find yourself giggling into her shoulder as you smack her, but it has no real evil intent behind it. And she knows that too.

“What! You weren’t gonna come over yourself, so I did it for you!”

She throws you onto her bed, and you instantly feel the lack of warmth her hands brought when they were gripping you. It was like someone handed you a cookie, and just as you were about to eat it, they tore it away. It was so quick, you wished you’d reveled in it a bit more before she let go of you.

You scooted up to the top of her bed to lean against her headboard as she sat at the end and picked up her guitar again. Your eyes dance across her skin as you observe the small freckles and the way her hands flex when she handles the guitar. You try to wane off the feeling; forget what it felt like to be skin to skin, forget the relief that was served to you when her fingers dug into your flesh.

You didn’t notice the catch in your breath as you started thinking about it, or the way your hands started to fiddle with themselves in your lap, but she did. Ellie observed you just as you did to her, and she wished she’d seen it when you walked in.

The softness. The desperation.

You obviously need something, but she doesn’t know what.

Your nails are digging into the palms of your hands when you feel that familiar warmth return to your skin. You meet her eyes and she’s gently touching your leg.

She’s touching you. You instantly feel horrible when you move your leg away. You want to take it back immediately when her eyes fill with hurt.

“What’s up with you, huh?” Ellie’s voice fills the air and it makes you perk up.

“What?” You reply distantly. She sighs. She sets down her guitar and shuffles closer to you.

“I said, what’s up with you? Why you being weird?”

You laugh awkwardly, “Me? Being weird? I’m not being weird, how am I being weird?” Your question makes her laugh.

“I don’t know, you just…” she shrugs, “you’re not being you.”

You nod, pulling your legs up to hug them, “Okay, how am I usually.”

“Well for one, you don’t usually run away from me,” she laughs, but you can hear the discomfort in her voice.

You can’t help but frown. Her hurt makes you feel so stupid. Why couldn’t you have just acted normal, and she wouldn’t be questioning you right now. Why couldn’t you-

“Y/N.”

She’s closer. Her hands on your hands. You didn’t realize you covered your face until she peeled them away from your eyes. You try not to let out a squeak when you say huh in question.

“Please tell me what’s going on with you, how can I help?” Her head tilts and it makes your heart flutter in your chest. How do you tell your best friend that it would probably save your life if she held you so tight and never let go? How do you tell her that’s all you will ever need, but it’s something you’ve never let yourself have?

She gets it as soon as your eyes drop down to her hand. The way you suddenly look so desperate but ready to tear away from her at the same time. You can’t find it in yourself to ask, it’s too embarrassing. But it’s really not, you know that, but it feels like it. Once she gives you that look, that I get it now look, you know you’re done for.

“Honey, look at me.” Her finger nudges your chin up so you look at her, but it just makes you all the more shy. She grins, “Would you like a hug?”

You groan, letting your head fall back against the headboard. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not making fun of you!” Her smile says otherwise.

“Yes you are! And no, I don’t.” Your refusal has her raising her eyebrows at you. She knows your stubborn, but she didn’t think it would be this hard to get a confession out of you.

“Oh really?” She tsks, “I think you’re lying to me.”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“I don’t give a shit-”

Ellie almost scares you when she darts forward and pulls you into her, pulling you into the hug she asked for anyway. A “wha-” is halfway out your mouth when her hands fold across your back and your head gets shoved into the juncture of her neck and shoulder. She squeezes a little tighter, puffing soft breaths into your own shoulder, trying to get you to calm down.

“Can you relax for me? Jeez.” Your eyes are shut tight and you’re not even holding her back. She pulls you back and your eyes are closed, which makes her grunt in annoyance. “Open your eyes, love.” You’re breathing is sort of heavy, but you’re doing everything you can to relax. It’s so nice. The pressure of the hug, the weight of her body, it’s everything you need. But there’s that voice in the back of your head saying you don’t deserve it.

Your voice is shaky when you say, “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, and you don’t know what you’re doing when you try to pull away but you want to lean against her.

“Hey, don’t go anywhere,” her hand comes up to the back of your head and holds you there, “why are you sorry?” You shake your head. “Why are you sorry?” She demands again.

You open your eyes and she notices they’re sort of teary. “I’m sorry for making you feel bad.”

Ellie sighs at that, “Baby, I’m okay. You didn’t.”

“I did though.”

She pulls your head up and places her hands on both sides of your face. Her touch is so overwhelming. You take another shaky breath and her forehead falls against yours.

“It’s okay, baby.” Her thumbs stroke your cheeks and suddenly, all you need is more.

Just more of everything she’s giving you. She doesn’t seem burdened and she doesn’t seem upset, so you let yourself lean into her embrace. You whine when she pulls away, but she places a kiss to your brow and it makes you absolutely melt.

She holds you so close, one hand scratches the back of your neck while the other travels down the side of your body to hold you in place on her lap. She tugs you a bit closer which makes you fall even more into her. A noise of content escapes you when her fingers scratch the top of your head, and it makes her chuckle to herself.

“You are so worked up, is this all you needed?” She questions.

You groan, burrowing your head further into her neck, breathing in and out deeply so you don’t ruin this moment. She lets you sink into her, let’s you wrap your arms around her waist, all the while you’re slowly letting her patch up the broken pieces of your heart, one by one.

“Yeah.” You mumble quietly.

You slump, almost like you’re going to sleep, and she revels in it. Loves the fact that she is the one doing this for you, she is the one that can take the ache away. It makes her sad knowing it probably took you so long to say something because you thought you didn’t deserve it, and she knows, because this used to be her.

“Atta’ girl.” She kisses the side of your head.

Finally, you’re relaxing. She maneuvers the both of you so she’s sitting back against the headboard and your head is against her chest. Her hands rub up and down your back, and she doesn’t tease when you move every now and then, since you’re still getting used to the constant touching.

The ache starts to go away, but there’s that lingering sense of want that doesn’t leave you. Your hands grip the sides of her shirt, grabbing her attention away from her comic book.

“You good, baby?”

“Don’t call me baby.” You blush.

Now this she’ll tease you about.

She smirks, “why not, sweetheart? You don’t like it?”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Aww, you know you like it.” Your head pulls up to look at her, and all she can think is you have the cutest glare out of anybody she knows.

“What did I say.”

“Shut the fuck up and accept my love you bastard.”

Your face flushes red, and you know it. You go back down without a retort and she knows she’s got you where she wants.

“Thanks, Els.”

“Yeah. Whatever.”

She says it with a smile.

[thewulf]

I Missed You || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: Request - Hello again! Hope you're having a wonderful week, I was hoping I could get one with Jake Seresin where the reader flirts with all the time, like all day everyday, like playfully and he always laughs it off, but the reader genuinely likes him but doesn't know how to show it ... Read Rest Here

A/N: I really like how this one turned out! Hope you all enjoy. As always thank you for the request @stuffingbuttsandshit !!

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 4.1k +

“Hey there handsome.” You slid down into the seat next to Jake trying to fake all the confidence in the world. Truthfully, he made you nervous as hell. The more you got to know him the more nervous you found yourself around him. You liked Jake Seresin. You liked Hangman. You’d known of him but finally met him a month ago when you both started training to become Captain’s. A select group of pilots had been chosen for a new accelerated program to push talent through to the top as the workforce ages out. The Navy finding a solution to the rapidly aging workforce.

He looked up from the manual he was reading over with a ghost of a smile crossing his features. The morning sun hit his face framing it so perfectly. Because of course it did. Even the damn sunlight was attracted to him. Not that you could blame it. Look at him, all perfect and shit.

“Bug.” He leaned back crossing his hands over his chest referring to you by your callsign. You’d earned it after accidentally consuming a pot brownie at a party and you wouldn’t stop talking about A Bug’s Life. You hadn’t a clue where it came from. You hadn’t even seen the damn movie in years. Leave it to the weed to earn a callsign for life. You’d grown to love it though.

“How was your weekend cutie?” Smoothly, you fluttered your eyelids rather dramatically before giving him your full-on smile. You’d fallen for the man quickly and he never even looked your way. Every time you were at the Hard Deck as a group his eyes would trail over to some surfer girl or new pilot that caught his attention for the night. More often than not you’d see him leaving with that same girl. Jake got what he wanted. You learned that quick.

It hurt. You tried to play it off like you never noticed, didn’t care. But you did. You craved for his eyes to be searching yours just like he had those other women. He wouldn’t even look at you like that though. He saw you as one of the guys no matter how hard you’d flirted with him. Nothing seemed to grab his attention. It felt like an endless game that you probably needed to drop but didn’t want to. You hardly thought you’d be able to find somebody else like him. Behind that tough exterior is a heart of gold. Somebody who will care so deeply for you. Put all your needs first. Make sure your happy. That was a rare person. Jake was a rare person. And he’d never see you. That hurt.

He smiled now. At least you could get that out of him, it was something, “My sister and nephew’s came to visit. It was nice.” He closed the manual knowing he wasn’t going to read much more with you sitting there. He’d never admit just how much he loved the attention you gave him on a daily basis. How you flirted incessantly with him. He looked forward to the new nicknames and creative ideas you’d come up with to flirt with him. It’d become a daily routine for him that he’d come to adore.

You nodded, “That sounds lovely. My brother told me to ‘fuck off’ when I told him he should come visit.” You laughed knowing he was just kidding. That was just his way of showing love to his younger sister. Brotherly love and all or something like that.

Jake smirked, “Sounds like a brother.”

“Sounds like a man.” You answered right back, quickly. He ran his eyes over your face, observing you. That’s all it took for your heart to speed on up. You just prayed that blood wasn’t rushing to your face, but you knew it was. Betraying you at your most vulnerable moment.

“You’re something else Y/N.” He shook his head turning back to the front of the room making sure Cyclone wasn’t up there yet. The hard ass was teaching your in-person lessons while Viper and Maverick took to the air.

You looked around too. Classmates were trickling in but paying the two of you no mind. It was still early. Cyclone started class right at 7:00 sharp. No excuses. If you were late you were kicked out for the day. It was noted. Always noted. Better get there early.

“I’m taking that as a good thing Jake.” You leaned over poking him in the bicep.

“Take it however you like.” Not a correction. Not a confirmation. A neutral response. He was impossible. There was no way you were ever going to break into the mind of him. You’d been thinking about it for a little bit now, but it might be time to pull away from him. Step back and give your aching little heart a break for a bit. It was impossible to keep at it only to get half smiles and nodding chuckles. You wanted more and he didn’t. That was okay. You couldn’t force it. Nothing ever worked like that.

You leaned back in your chair looking forward now. Time to pull back from him. Not all at once, no. You don’t think even you could quick Jake Seresin cold turkey. Oh, no no no. There wasn’t a way. He was too Jake. Not perfect, but perfect in his own way. A prize that was just out of reach from your grasp. A prize you had to back off from as much as it hurt.

“Alright.” You mumbled. He looked over at you quickly scouring your face for the sudden change in your mood. That was… odd for you. You were always kind. Always cheery. Always rebutting his non advances. You’d always lead the conversation and suddenly you weren’t. it was too quiet for him.

The rest of class you didn’t take your eyes off Cyclone. You’d normally poke and prod Jake for something, but you were backing off. You needed to focus anyway. At least that’s what you told yourself. You’d caught his occasional peak at you from your peripherals every now and then. He’d certainly noticed something, you thought.

Cyclone wrapped the morning session off sending you off to meet up with Mav after you changed. You shut your notebook without a word before putting it in your backpack. Not giving a damn how juvenile it made you look.

Jake peaked over once more expecting you to say something. But when you stood to leave without saying something he had to, “Everything alright?” He asked you already missing your cute little remarks.

You nodded, “Just fine. Watch your back in the skies.” You winked before turning off calling Natasha. Jake watched as you walked out without him and with Phoenix instead. He frowned watching you turn out of the classroom and out of his sigh.

You walked into the Hard Deck trying to spot the group of pilots you’d grown to love. You head Jakes big booming laugh out of the corner of the bar and made a bee line towards the group. A seat next to Frosty or a seat next to Hangman. You opted for the earlier and sat down next to the guy. Jake frowned seeing you sit down across from him instead of next to him like you’d always have. That’s why nobody took the spot next to him, that was your spot.

Nat raised an eyebrow as she saw your choice in seating. You hadn’t disclosed anything to her earlier in the day. She watched as Jake fought the grimace that so desperately wanted to show on his face. Had he done something?

“Evening, ladies and gents.” You smiled brushing out the dress you’d put on. You’d never understood how the guys could wear their uniforms out. You wanted nothing more than to change the second you were off base.

“Bug.” Frosty tipped his cap towards you, “You look nice.” Jake didn’t like the way his eyes raked up and down your frame. Not one bit did he like that. You looked far too pretty to be degraded like that.

Before you could reply to him Jake decided to speak up, “You look beautiful.” He shot Frosty a cold look, one to match his callsign.

Your eyes slowly turned to Jake, cheeks surely ablaze. That was a first. Jake had never complimented you. His eyes had always glossed over your figure. You’d seemed to just blend in with your surroundings.

“Thank you, Jake.” You smiled kindly at him.

He nodded, this time his eyes taking their time to size you up. You did look beautiful. Stunning even. He’d always known. But you were you. You were in his class. He’d have to work with you. He couldn’t think of you that way. Things never turned out good when that happened. So, he had to ignore it. Ignore whatever pull you seemed to have thrown right at him. He’d resisted as long as you paid him attention. He failed when you started to draw back though. He wanted your eyes on him again. He wanted your flirty words that so effortlessly rolled off your tongue.

He shrugged innocently, “It’s only the truth.” He took a sip of his beer shooting you a wink afterwards. You playfully rolled your eyes before elbowing Natasha in the ribs for whispering an obscene remark in your ear.

It was certainly odd behavior for him. He’d never reciprocated anything when you gave it your all not a day ago. But now that you were diversifying yourself he wasn’t having it? What kind of sick game was he playing? Real you in just close enough to bait you then switch? You couldn’t do that either. That’d crush your heart a thousand times over and you’d keep crawling back. Because who could resisted those tanned skin dimples when he smiled? Not you. Certainly not you at all.

You’d attempted to avoid his gaze most of the night only shooting him a wink and stinking your tongue out at him a few times. When you’d gotten up to grab a beer Jake wasn’t far behind you trying to play it off coolly and not looking like the puppy dog he felt like. Like you had him right on an invisible leash. You did though and only he knew that.

“Bug.” That voice brought you out of the conversation you were having with the handsome man at the bar. You felt how close he was to you, his breath right on your ear.

“Seresin.” You shifted your weight away from him, he was playing unfair now.

“How are you?” He asked stepping to the side respecting your boundaries. The last thing he wanted to do was upset you.

“I’m good.” You nodded smiling up at him. He looked, nervous? His hands were fidgeting with the other. His neck was craned looking for eyes on you.

“That’s good.” He nodded.

How odd this was, “And you?” You asked feeling like a complete stranger to him with the tension coating the air thickly.

“I’ve been better Buggie.” He answered you looking down right at you. He was the only one who could get away with calling you that. You’d shot down everyone else you even attempted to mimic Jake.

“Oh?” You asked raising the fresh beer to your lips. Jake watched as you tilted the glass back to take a sip. How the foam coated the top of your lip. How badly he wanted to brush it away once you set you glass back down. The foam vanished when you smiled. You were acutely aware of how he’d been staring right at your lips the entire time. What in the hell was going on with him? He’d never been so forward before. Not in all your attempts over the weeks. Hell, his actions made you feel like a leper not even the remotely attractive to his gaze. But this, this was something.

He nodded grabbing his glass from behind you making sure to brush his arm past yours, “Mhmm.” He was making you beg for the reasoning. Drawing the conversation out.

“Why’s that Jake?” You caved to his mental game.

“You didn’t sit by me. You always do.” He frowned letting his frustration be visible. He didn’t want to mess around now, afraid you might be slipping away from him.

“I don’t sit next to you every time. Plus, I needed to tell Frosty something.” You tried defending yourself.

He shook his head quickly, “Can’t bullshit a bullshitter Buggie. Didn’t your daddy teach you lying’s not a good thing?”

Jake fucking Seresin ladies and gentlemen. He had a masterful way of riling your right on up. Reading right between the lines you’d so intricately crafted. He broke down your façade within an instance. Reading you like a children’s book and not the high-level shields you thought you’d put up. It worked for everybody. Everybody except for him.

“Shut up Hangman.” You rolled your eyes walking back towards the table. But a gentle hand at your elbow stopped you.

“Did I do something?” He asked earnestly once you spun back around in the middle of the bar.

You shook your head playing dumb, “No?”

He sighed deciding not to press any further for the day, “If I did, you’d tell me?” He asked.

You nodded, “’Course Jakey.” You winked at him using the nickname only you could use. Jake nearly bit the head off of anybody else who tried. Jake watched as you walked back towards the group. He shook his head following behind you. Jake was down bad, and he knew it. He’d known it for a while.

The last straw for him was when you walked into the classroom the next morning and sat down next to Rooster of all fucking people. It’s not like Jake hated the man anymore but he certainly wasn’t best fucking friends with the guy either. Jake watched as the two of you conversed almost in front of him. Did you have any idea what you were doing to him at that moment? Driving him absolutely crazy when you threw your head back in laughter from something he said. Rooster, not him. He was so entranced with your conversation he hadn’t even noticed Nat sitting herself down next to him.

“You could just tell her you know.” She spoke up before the Admiral begun for the day.

He jumped at her voice. Shooting her a glare before answering her, “What are you talking about?” He decided to play dumb.

“That you like her.” Nat rolled her eyes, tired of his shit.

He sighed, “Why would I do that?”

She shrugged, “Because you do?” She said as if it were the most obviously thing in the world, “Look, she thinks you don’t like her. That’s why she stopped being so… forward. She thought she was annoying you. That’s not what she wanted to do to you. So, she stopped.” Nat said quickly and quietly out of the corner of her mouth.

He frowned almost immediately, “You’re shitting me.”

She shook her head, “Nope. But you didn’t hear it from me.” She whispered before sitting back in her seat as if no conversation had happened.

You thought he didn’t like you? How could he blame you though. He’d hardly reciprocated anything in the time he’d known you. How dumb could he be? Fuck, he really messed it up this time.

He was distracted the entire time. When Cyclone called on him and he stumbled through the answer the Admiral shook his head muttering something under his breath. You gave him a soft smile and a thumbs up in encouragement. Little did you know it was because of you he’d mucked that up so bad. He had to talk to you before they went up in the air for the day or he’d probably end up crashing.

When Cyclone wrapped it up he stood quickly, lingering by the door. He watched as you packed your bags up and waved Rooster off probably wanting to walk alone. He had other plans though.

“Y/N.” He said your name softly as you passed him, seemingly in a trance.

You looked up to him smiling softly to him, “Jake, hi.”

“Can we talk?” The look in his eyes said he was being sincere. He wasn’t bullshitting you.

You looked around not seeing anybody else in the classroom, “Sure.”

He pulled you out of the doorway before shutting the door. He turned quickly to you. He grabbed at your hands pulling you closer to him. Your heart was hammering in your chest as your wide eyes looked up at his much softer, sweeter ones, “Jake, what’re doing?” You asked almost breathless.

“I miss you.” He admitted, “It’s been a damn day and I miss you desperately Y/N.” He pulled you closer. You let him of course. This was everything you wanted and more. So much more.

“I don’t understand.” You admitted. He’d given you nothing for weeks. Where was this coming from?

“I’m a fucking idiot that’s what.” He pulled you in even closer. Your chest was flush with his. Surely he could feel your heart hammering in your chest. He looked down at you with a wicked grin as your eyes fluttered shut smelling his cologne mix with his own natural scent. Euphoria struck you in that moment, “Sweetheart.” He murmured so close to you goosebumps erupted almost immediately.

Your eyes snapped open feeling his lips brush your naked ear lobes, “Jake, you can’t…” You stopped seeing his expression cross from one of softness to something much more sinister. A darkened desire flashed through his eyes that sent a wicked shiver right down your spine.

He rolled his eyes. Mimicking you as you’d done it so many times before. Hardly feeling like you were at work anymore Jake took over your strongest desires. He was your strongest desire. Right here teasing you like you like the putty for him you were.

He leaned down to your other ear doing the same. Brushing his lips so dangerously close you could feel him. Jake enjoyed the goosebumps that rippled up from his breath. A physical reaction proving his own thoughts true, “I can, and I will. If you let me.” The vibration from his low drawl sent ripples throughout every part of your body. You shook it off thinking for a second.

He took a chance and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear making sure to drag his fingertips across your neck. Grinning when he felt you shiver at his touch. He knew he’d melt the same way at your own touch, “Sweetheart.” He whispered again before pulling back knowing your brain was likely short circuiting. He had the advantage of knowing your feelings. Although he was making it rather obvious that he reciprocated them.

“Jake, what are you doing?” You asked again. You just couldn’t seem to believe that this was actually happening.

He chuckled letting his arms snake around your waist to pull you impossibly close now. He was so much taller than you. Your head level with the top of his chest. But you molded in so well. It felt so good. So true to what you needed.

“I told you. I was dumb. I like you darlin’. More than a friend does. Way more than a friend should.” He was looking right down at your lips as you were looking up at his.

“You like me?”

“Mhmm.” He hummed not tearing his eyes away, “And I think you like me too. Isn’t that right sweetheart?” He was coaxing it out of you now.

He grinned when he saw your pale cheeks coat with a beautiful cherry pink. A blush he’d never grow tired of seeing. In fact, he made it his mission to see it every day. For some reason, he didn’t think it’d be too hard. He’d find something new to compliment you on every day for the rest of his life. He just knew it. It wouldn’t be hard with you. He was going to start making plans with you. He was sure of this one.

“Jake?” You asked feeling the nerves bubble throughout your body. The look he was giving you was one of pure adoration. One that you burned into your memory. A look you’d never seen from such a beautiful man, or any man before. One that told you that you were loved, no matter what. Through thick and certainly through thin.

He used his pointer finger to pull your chin up towards him, “Yes, darlin’?” He asked with a goofy grin sporting his gorgeous face.

“Can you kiss me?” With little confidence you had left you asked him a question you’d wanted since the second you met him. Immediately you trusted the man. You were so drawn to him. It only took you pulling away for a brief moment for him to realize the same. It was different with you.

He nodded with a feverish grin, “Thought you’d never ask beautiful.” Gently, he pushed you up against the wall before pressing his hips into yours. Jake pinned your hands above your head onto the wall as he took a snapshot of your needy face. Doe eyes begged him to kiss your puffy lips full of desire.

A whine burst from your lips as Jake studied you. You couldn’t take it anymore. You really just wanted the man to kiss you. At that, kiss you he did.

With a swift motion he dropped his hands from your wrists and placed them behind your head. He leaned down pressing his lips to yours. Your knees began to buckle as the kiss turned more desperate, quickly.

You pressed forward lacing your hands throughout his golden locks. He let out a guttural groan before snaking an arm around your waist steadying you. He pressed in further brushing his tongue against your lips. Without hesitation you let him in. Let him explore like you’d so desperately wanted him too before. You bucked your hips against his earning another small groan from the man who knew he was in deep, deep trouble with you. A wild card you were.

He pulled away with displeasure knowing it couldn’t go any further at that, “Sweetheart, we are at work.” His grin only widened when he saw your disheveled state. His hands making a mess of your once perfect bun that you’d have to redo in the locker room. A rosy blush coating your face only making you more stunning. Your blown out pupils telling him the whole story, “I don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, but God Damn are you a vision darlin’. Absolutely fucking stunning.” His eyes now surveyed your entire body.

You shook your head, “Can we pick this up later? My place 6 o’clock?” You asked with so much desperation in your voice it should’ve been embarrassing. But you didn’t care. You wanted him to know. You craved him.

He nodded slowly brushing your hair back down so you wouldn’t look too suspicious walking to the locker room, “Absolutely pretty girl. I miss you already.” Another blush rose to your cheeks as the pad of his thumb brushed across your now swollen lips. He smirked at what he’d done. Hopefully nobody’d be none the wiser. But Jake had a sneaking suspicion Nat would notice. She was probably wondering where the two of you were now.

“As much as I want to continue, we should get going before Mav has our asses.” He grabbed your hand pulling you from the wall he’d pushed you against moments ago.

You nodded quickly, “Yeah, yeah.” Dazed and confused you walked into the locker room with Jake hot on your heels. Nat stood there with her arms across her chest looking at you with a curious grin.

“Don’t say a word.” You mumbled opening your locker and pulling out your flight suit with a swift pull.

She laughed, “Didn’t say a thing Bug. But you’re going to have to tell me later.”

You nodded with a stupid smile that wouldn’t go away, “I’ll tell you everything tomorrow. Promise.”

She gaped at you, “You better.”

You promised once more before walking out of the locker room with her. When you walked out you found Jake’s eyes on your figure quickly. That same loving look he’d shown you before in the classroom adorning his face made you nearly weak at the knees.

You heard Nat chuckle beside you only earning a swift elbow in the ribs from you and soft, “Shut up.” Before you turned back to Jake flashing him your brightest smile.

Permanent Taglist (Message me or comment below if you want to be added!): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom

[gotham-ruaidh]

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I’m So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) || Chapter 13b (She’s My Addiction) || Chapter 13c (Patience) || Chapter 14a (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14b (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 14c (Where Do We Go Now?) || Chapter 15a (Dreams) || Chapter 15b (I Sing A Song of Love) || Chapter 15c (You Can Do This If You Try) || Chapter 16 (Let That Feeling Grab You Deep Inside || Chapter 17A: Never Tear Us Apart || Chapter 17B: It's Tough To Be Somebody, And It's Hard Not To Fall Apart ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 17C: I'm Wishing, Lord, That I Was Stoned

New York City || September 1988

Then I fumbled in my closet through my clothes And found my cleanest dirty shirt Then I washed my face and combed my hair And stumbled down the stairs to meet the day…

- “Sunday Morning Coming Down,” Johnny Cash (1970) [click here to listen]

“Is that a realistic fear for Jamie to have, Claire?”

Claire took Jamie’s hand between both of hers, resting on her knee.

“When I was at The Ridge, I learned that the reason why I took the pills was to stop feeling things. Bad things.”

She paused. Raymond watched her work so hard to find the right words.

“And with Jamie, I feel a lot of things – but a lot of good things. Sometimes it’s too much. A few times I’ve craved the escape that I would get with the pills, just because the feelings were so overwhelming.”

Jamie raised her hand to his lips, and kissed her knuckles.

“I told Jamie every time I felt that craving. And he helped me through it. Helped me focus, and see how the…magnitude of what I was feeling, matched what he was feeling. And that to feel so much is not a bad thing at all.”

“So that helped?” Raymond prodded gently.

She smiled. “It did. So did the fact that after we talked, we’d love each other. So – even though it’s always there at the back of mind, the voice that says – you know that there’s an easy way out, if it’s too much...I would never, ever do that to myself, or to Jamie.”

Jamie frowned.

“So, Raymond – to answer your question differently…it’s definitely not a realistic fear for Jamie to have. Because I know that it’s the same for him as it is for me. To always hear that voice at the back of your head – but now I’m strong enough to ignore it. It’s always there. I don’t like it, but I can’t change that.”

“You never told me that,” Jamie murmured. “Of course I know that you’ve felt that pull, every now and then. Because I tell you when I do. But I didn’t know that it’s always there for you.”

“I’m not trying to hide anything from you.” She kissed his cheek. “But I know that you think about your addictions constantly. Not just on the road, though that’s made it so much worse. I didn’t want to worry you.”

Jamie closed his eyes. “You wouldn’t worry me. These are things that I want to know, Claire. So that I can understand it, and support you.”

“Like how you speak with Claire when you feel similar things, and she similarly gives you the support you need?” Raymond asked gently.

Jamie sighed. “Exactly. Raymond…you need to know this. I’ve done some really bad things in my life. Drank and snorted and fucked more than I’ll ever know. Been a terrible asshole to a lot of people, including myself. On this tour I keep…flashing back to those days. It makes me physically sick. And then I want so bad to be a better man, the man I know I can be. The man that Claire deserves. And I want nothing more, to be that same support for her, as she is for me.”

“You are, Jamie.” She rubbed his arm, and linked their hands. “You are.”

He pursed his lips. “Not if you can’t tell me what’s on your mind, Claire. Not when there’s that voice telling you to take a pill.” He closed his eyes. “I’m afraid I’m overwhelming you. With my fucked up shit, and with this life we have that’s so…not normal.”

Raymond shifted on the couch. “Do you feel overwhelmed, Claire?”

Claire pushed a few loose strands of Jamie’s hair behind his ears. “I’d be lying if I said no. Not all the time. When it’s just me and Jamie together…it’s fine. But when we leave the room, and go out into that world…”

Jamie nodded. “I guess you could say that we’ve found a kind of…equilibrium, this tour. But not a good kind of equilibrium. The grind of travel, and the stress of keeping sober, and the flashbacks to when I wasn’t…I realize now that I…we…can’t balance all of it in a healthy way. The last thing either of us want is to relapse.”

“The band and crew have been so gracious to us,” Claire added quietly. “No alcohol or drugs or girls in the public areas backstage. Certainly none in Jamie’s dressing room. But we know all of that stuff is there, somewhere, even if it’s not right in front of us.”

Raymond crossed his arms. “And are you afraid, Jamie, that one night you’ll give in to temptation?”

Jamie took a deep, centering breath. What he had learned to do, at The Ridge. “Yes.”

Raymond let the moment stretch.

“I’m afraid, so afraid, that something really bad will happen.” Jamie’s eyes bored into Raymond’s. “And then my brain will just shut off, and the next thing I know I’m doing lines off some groupie’s tits, and washing it down with a bottle of Jack.”

Raymond deliberately did not react.

“And then,” Jamie continued, eyes downcast, “Claire finds me, and leaves me, and my life is over.”

“Sshh.” Raymond watched Claire soothe her husband. Whisper in his ear. Kiss his cheek. Run her hands up and down his forearm. “Sshh. I love you. I trust you. That’s not going to happen.”

She kissed his mouth, not caring that Raymond was there. Jamie responded, softly, smiling into the kiss.

“I think I am getting an idea of what we can work on,” Raymond said after a while. “Your north stars are your sobriety, and the love you have for each other. Yes?”

Both Frasers nodded.

“And yet you are neck-deep in a life where every day, there are temptations to destroy both of those things.”

Both Frasers nodded again.

“And even though you’re totally committed to your marriage, and your sobriety – you still worry.”

Both Frasers nodded a third time.

Raymond took a moment to think. “You know there’s only so much I can control. I can’t fix many of your circumstances. But I can give you the tools to cope with them better. Talk therapy, for one. Time management and prioritization, for another. And strategies to identify the root causes of your panic attacks, and then to cope with them as they happen.”

“That’s all we’re asking,” Claire said softly. “Though you must go into it with eyes open, too. Being on the road is…”

“Crazy,” Jamie supplied.

Claire smiled. “We’ll pay you well, of course. You’d need to be on call constantly – we can have very late nights or very early mornings, depending on your perspective. It’s a lot of travel, too. Though being on the private plane helps.”

“I’m up for the challenge,” Raymond smiled. “Something a bit different from my normal practice.”

“What kind of music do you like?” Jamie interrupted.

Startled, Raymond’s mind drew a blank. “I’m sorry?”

Jamie smiled and stood, crossing the room to the guitar case leaning against a dining table. “What kind of music do you like? I’ll play you something.”

“Jamie knows just about any song ever released. And don’t worry, it’s totally fine that you don’t even know his band’s music,” Claire offered softly. “I didn’t, when I first met him. And to be honest, it’s not quite my style.”

“I heard that.” Jamie returned, a worn yet beautiful acoustic guitar slung across his shoulder. He sat back down on the couch. “Come on, Doc. There’s got to be a song you like.”

Raymond thought for a long moment. Reached into his deep memory, and a troubled, guitar-playing GI he had known a long time ago.

“I like Johnny Cash.”

Jamie’s grin widened. “Awesome! You know, he kicked addiction, too. With the help of his wife.”

Claire’s smile matched her husband’s.

“Any particular song?”

Raymond settled back into the sofa. “Pick something. You’re the professional.”

Claire settled into the deep cushions of the couch. Watching.

Jamie strummed a few chords. Thinking.

“Well – here’s a song he sang, although it was written by his good friend Kris Kristofferson. I think it’s appropriate for what we’re talking about today.”

Well, I woke up Sunday morning With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad So I had one more for dessert…

Later that night, standing with Claire and Colum at side stage, watching Jamie jump and dance and strum his guitar amid Print’s third sold-out show at Madison Square Garden…Raymond finally started to understand the music that the thousands and thousands of cheering fans were screaming for.

[kazemi-archive]

Nobody Else

Pairing: Tendou Satori x Reader Genre: Suggestive, Angsty What You Missed: after trying to be in denial about how much you craved Satori, you try to tell yourself that the two of you aren't dating. there's no feelings. you should have no problem being with somebody else.

Part 10 of Side Effects

This is stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

You repeated it to yourself as a mantra as you wrapped your arm around the neck of the boy dancing in front of you. The lights were flashing different colors, disorientating in the mix of the alcohol in your system.

You couldn’t sleep with Satori without feeling something more than pleasure. You’d tried. Over and over throughout the last week you’d been back from fall break. Over and over you fell for the laugh that bubbled from his lips when you’d twist from his soft touches that tickled. Over and over words that felt too soft in your mouth burst from your chest as he held you, skin to skin.

It was an old piece of advice. Get over someone by getting under someone else.

It wasn’t hard to find a party on a Saturday night on campus. Follow the kids who thought they were being sneaky as they giggled too loudly from pregaming and gossiped on their way across campus. Show up with a bottle of something hard and get welcomed in with open arms.

You’d found the first semi-attractive guy on the dance floor who was alone and invite him to dance. The alcohol that raged through your veins and your need to prove to yourself that you didn’t truly care for Satori as more than a friend seemed to shove your anxiety about such actions into the backseat.

The boy was too pleased to have his hands on your hips. His movements were sloppy, uncalculated, uncaring about your shifting trying to make it more comfortable for yourself.

Beggars couldn’t be choosers.

That’s what you repeated to yourself as you let him drag you into a bedroom down the hall. As he pressed you too harshly against the wall. Not at all in the sensual way that Satori usually did, cupping the back of your head to ensure you weren’t hurt, body sliding against yours like it was meant to be there.

Get over someone by getting under someone.

You grimaced at the way his tongue drooled over the outside of your mouth, getting too close to your cheek, fumbling and awkward as he scraped his tongue against your teeth. Not the way that Satori’s just seemed to command yours to follow, a gentle but all-consuming dance as it pressed lightly to yours before withdrawing so he could catch your lip with his teeth.

You can do this.

You bounced as he tossed you on the bed, something on the edge bouncing off as result. You giggled at the loss of the item but quickly stopped as he rushed forward, hands cupping your breasts as he kissed you again. “Stop laughing.”

Something inside of you twisted. Something telling you this was wrong. You groaned and shoved at his chest, watching him stumble away from you as you got off the bed. “I can’t do this.”

“What the fuck?” The guy’s voice was clearly upset as you pushed past him, towards the door but you couldn’t even get yourself to care as you heard him shout behind you. “Fucking bitch!”

Your feet were on autopilot. Your intent was to go home but it wasn’t a surprise where you ended up instead.

“Are you okay?” Satori answered before you were even done with your repeated knocking. The way you pushed in felt like second nature, like it’s where you should’ve been all along anyways.

His door was barely closed before your lips were attaching to his. “Want you, Tori.” His hands felt like heaven to you. A confirmation you hated to get. No one felt like him. The sinful way his fingers pressed into the dips of your skin as he led you towards his bed. Slow but precise. A map of your body in his head. “Don’t want nobody else, Tori.” It was a confession that slipped past your drunk lips but one that spurred a sober one from him, one you barely heard and wouldn’t remember in the morning.

“Don’t need nobody else but you either.”

TAGLIST : OPEN

[littlegodzilla]

Hi!

It's me again, as I said my inspiration is coming back to me again and I have a few new ideas and some requests to write and post so here I am!

This time I come with another AlphaDaryl one shot.

I hope you like it!

*

Marked.

AlphaDaryl Dixon x OmegaReader.

One shot.

Warnings: Bad language. Violence. Fighting. Marked Omega. ABO Dynamics. Smut.

Words: 5800

Summary: You and Daryl are together but you don't think that Daryl is fine with it.

Taglist: @phoenixblack89 @browneyes528 @pncnsc @lilythemadqueen @darylsgarden @srhxpci @green-eyedladywrites @xxtinasxxblog @hail-yourselves

(I can here this gif...)

"Help! Please somebody help me!" you screamed as you ran.

"Come back here, bitch! We both know you are craving it!" he trails behind you licking his lips in a lewd signature.

His scent like Alpha reaches your nostrils, choking you, your mind clouds wanting to submit to his demands, but you fought against it, you weren't going to let him bend you over. Running you managed to put distance between you, your legs were tired, but you weren't going to stop. You screamed when you felt arms lift you off the ground making you lose your balance. You kicked, scrambled and even bit him on the arm, he cursed loudly and slammed you against a wall in an attempt to block you.

"Stop the fuck, ya whore!" he shouted and hit you harder. "I'm gonna make ya mine, ya're close to yer heat."

"No! No, no, please! Somebody help me!" you screamed again in the hope that someone could hear you.

"Merle, let her go!" You heard a voice on the other side of the alley, You tried to look for where it came from. "Stop it, Merle, don't be an asshole!" you heard his voice again.

You were shaken as the newcomer pushed this Merle guy off of you. You saw them struggle, fight, actually one of them, the one chasing you didn't seem to be in his full faculties as he moved clumsily, perhaps drunk, but his instinct had dragged him to you anyway. That day you had finished your shift early, you felt you were close to your heat cycle and you didn't want to have problems with the company so you agreed with your colleagues to have those days off and they all agreed. However you didn't get very far because of that Merle who had been chasing you.

"Leave her alone!" You heard again, the other man stood next to you to protect you.

"Come on, lil'brother, don't be a pussy!" You yelled at him trying to dodge him. "She's an Omega about to go into heat and she's gonna be mine."

"Ain't gonna touch her! She ain't wanna ya to touch her, don't ya see? Get the hell out of here, Merle."

"Get the hell out of here? Who do y'think ya are to order me around, Daryl?" Daryl, that was the name of the man protecting you. "Have ya forgotten who the big brother is?"

"That's the least of it, now, Merle, get a hold of yerself and let her go." Daryl was intensifying his own Alpha instinct to try to control his brother and you felt dizzy.

"No, I'm gonna fuck her, I'm gonna give her what she needs and..."

"And then what, ya'll dump her and find someone else?"

"Exactly, we are Alphas and the Omegas exist to please us." He smiled a sickening grin and Daryl growled at his brother's words. "Get out of the way."

"No..." His hand closed around your wrist and you trembled hard. Daryl felt his instincts spiraling out of control by the minute. Merle reminded him more and more of his father every day, Daryl felt like he was losing him with each passing day, but he wouldn't let him hurt you too. He'd been through that scenario before. "Not this time."

Your eyes widened as the Alpha that was meant to save you, pulled at you, his mouth closed on your neck and his teeth buried into your skin. You cried out in pain and even felt some pleasure as his lips brushed your neck. You closed your eyes and clenched your fists, the heat, the need that was beginning to form in your stomach due to the heat began to subside, his Mark as your Alpha was beginning to take effect on you, calming you down. You moaned softly letting yourself be done, holding onto his arm. Merle's lecherous smile turned into a grimace of distaste and he glared at his brother with hatred.

"She's marked now, she belongs to an Alpha, ya can't touch her anymore. Leave her alone."

*

You touch your scraf as the memories stop, bringing you back to reality. It's been several years since all that happened, Daryl protected you from his brother by making you his Omega, but it was clearly a mistake. Neither of you deserve the life you have. Bonded together without really wanting it, united only to keep desperate Alphas away from you. There is nothing else. Daryl hasn't touched you since. Even that time he didn't touch you. He gave you the scarf he always carried with him and advised you to cover your neck with it.

"If ya ever find yer true Alpha, I will break our bond." He told you. "But if they see yer Mark no one will come near."

You never found that destined Alpha, and your bond forced you to stay close to him, even though you went on with your life as usual, you had that constant feeling of wanting to know where he was, you weren't the only one, Daryl had it happen to him too and he would come visit you every day at the restaurant where you worked, sit there for a couple of hours and then leave.

Merle never bothered you again, but it was a big price to pay for both of you.

After that, death rose up and began to walk the world forcing the living to flee what they had always known as home and regroup in small groups to survive. You traveled with the Dixon brothers for weeks until you arrived at that quarry meeting a larger group. Everyone had their own story, everyone accepted and protected each other, Merle wanted to steal their supplies to escape and you didn't agree with his plan.

You traveled for a long time all together, things got complicated, they got better, at the CDC you thought you really would be safe, but it was just another trap, there you saw Daryl drunk like he hadn't been for a long time, you also saw him scared wanting to run away from there, save your lives, even today you can still feel his fingers squeezing your wrist so hard when you were running away from the CDC you thought he would break your wrist.

"Daryl..." You said to him one day in prison, when the Woodbury people settled in with you. "If you ever find your Omega, tell me and I'll break our bond." You told him the same thing he had told you long ago, you know you can't do that, but you just wanted him to understand what you meant.

You wanted to give him the freedom he deserved, because Daryl wasn't a bad person, he cared about all of you, he cared about his people, he cared about everything being under control. He deserved to find that person who truly loved him. Who valued him as he deserved.

He didn't say anything, he rarely responded to what you said, but that day he was particularly serious and distant.

Then you found Alexandria, and the number of new people you began to meet grew and grew, and deep down you were afraid that he would really find his Omega. You can't say for sure if it was selfishness or fear of being alone, but your stomach always churned at the thought of it.

Here you live now, you adapt little by little, you all have assigned tasks, some more exciting than others, but you're all still together and alive and that's the most important thing. You go out on patrol with Gleen, Noah and Tara; Rick and Michonne are the new police, the kids are studying, Daryl has become friends with Aaron and Eric and they have helped him ride a motorcycle to go recruit people with Aaron. To tell you the truth it's the first time you spend so much time apart, it's not uncomfortable, it doesn't make you feel anxious or sad, but it's strange, because every time you see him come back your heart is racing.

"Hey, hi." You hear a voice next to you and you turn quickly. "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you, I'm Spencer. Deanna Monroe's oldest son." He introduces himself and stretches out his hand towards you.

"H-hello, sorry, I was just thinking about...my stuff." You squeeze his hand and introduce yourself, you actually already knew each other, not officially, you had seen him at the party Deanna had thrown to welcome you, but you didn't get too close to him.

"I guess you're nervous, it's normal, it must be the first time."

"What? I'm sorry, I didn't..."

"I was talking about your... about Daryl. He's your Alpha, right?" He points to the scarf around your neck and you feel your cheeks burn. "It's been a long time since we've seen an Omega around here, your essence is very weak so I figured you were bonded to someone..."

"Y-yes, Daryl and I are..." You press your lips together and lower your gaze.

"Yes... you are a very particular couple, I don't know many bonds between Alphas and Omegas, here most of us are Betas or some Alphas, but I've always heard that the bond between you is strong and passionate, that you are loyal and faithful couples, you are always together..."

It's not a lie at all, you are faithful and loyal to Daryl, he has saved your life so many times you can't count them, he has always cared about your well being and comfort, and you have always been grateful for it, you know you can never repay him in full, but even if you could, you know Daryl would never ask you for anything.

"Daryl and I don't..." You close your mouth for a moment and sigh. "Our bond was a mistake, he Marked me to save me from an Alpha who wished to rape me..." You whisper without taking your eyes off your shoes. "I knew that Marked by another Alpha no one would ever bother me again, but that cursed us both..."

"Wow, I've never heard a story like that. You mean... he doesn't have feelings for you?"

"We've learned to live together, I think... but nothing more."

"You're kidding." He snorts in amusement and you give him a confused look. "I'm sure he wouldn't let you go even if you asked him to."

"What? no, Daryl and I have a pact, if either of us..."

"Wanna bet? I say Daryl wouldn't give you to just anyone who asked." He smiles challenging you, you look at him blankly.

It's a stupid bet, why would you bet against him? You don't know what Spencer's intentions are, you don't even know if he's serious, but you don't want to play along. You know what the truth is, if you were to talk to Daryl right now and tell him that there was another Alpha in your life, he would accept it, you're sure he would even celebrate, because that would mean getting rid of you, you would stop being a problem, you would stop being a nuisance for him, a burden. No, that bet is nonsense.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you..." You hear Spencer and realize you're crying. You quickly wipe the tears from your cheeks and shake your head.

"N-no, it's okay, it's just that I doubt Daryl would stop you..." You whisper and he moves closer to you, rests a hand on your man and your body shudders.

"You want us to find out? You might be in for a surprise." He insists again, you don't understand why he cares so much, for a moment you thought he was a jerk like his brother, but you were wrong about him, he really seems worried about you.

"O-okay..." you don't even know why you're accepting that. You gasp as you feel his arms wrap around you, he wraps his arms around you and his Alpha like essence starts to choke you. "Spencer..."

"Relax, it's so he doesn't smell you, I feel like he's close and if he smells you then we won't solve this doubt."

"No..." You start to get overwhelmed, Spencer's smell is intense, you don't like it, not even having him around, he's not a dominant Alpha, but he makes you nervous.

"Hide." He says turning away from you and points with his head. "He's coming."

You don't want to play along, but you finally hide seeing Daryl approaching down one of the nearby streets, you tense up and wish you could get Spencer's scent off of you, but he son of Deanna walks straight towards the other Alpha and you freeze.

"Hey, Daryl, do you have a moment?" He calls out to him, the hunter stops and gives him a sidelong glance, he's loaded with his crossbow and a backpack, maybe he's going on some new expedition.

"Not much, Rick's waitin' me."

"It'll just be a moment, I want to talk about your Omega." You can see from where you are as Daryl's whole body tenses, he frowns and clenches his jaw, he takes several steps towards Spencer, but stops.

"What about her? what has she done now?"

That offends you, he says it like you're a continual nuisance, you may not have known how to defend yourself at first, like many of the people, but now you know how to shoot, track, you've even once hunted when Daryl had been out for a few days in search of larger prey, so his comment is uncalled for. You hear Spencer snort in amusement.

"Nothing, but you're clearly an awkward couple." He looks at him and Daryl twitches nervously. "It's clear that your bond is somewhat imposed, isn't it?"

"That ain't matter to ya." He growls clenching his fists.

"Yes, it does matter to me. I'm an Alpha too." Spencer starts to speak, Daryl takes a few more steps towards him.

Spencer is taller than Daryl, but that doesn't seem to matter to the hunter, he moves intimidatingly towards him, his essence as an Alpha flares for a moment, dominating over Spencer's who growls and lets out his own essence so he doesn't choke on the archer's.

"She's forced to be with you, I don't know why, but neither of you want what you have. I want to be her Alpha." Despite Daryl's intensity, Monroe keeps talking watching him tense up even more. "Break the bond with her, set her free and..."

"Shut the fuck up." Daryl's voice sounds extremely low, gravely charged with pent up anger, the archer trembles as he holds back. "I swear, if ya finish that fuckin'..."

He falls silent because something hits his nose. A smell he would recognize anywhere, a smell that has been with him for years, a smell he has always protected and now...now this guy he knows nothing about reeks of it, why? His forehead collides against Spencer's and makes him take a step back with a roar.

"What did ya do to her? why do ya smell like her?" He demands to know and Spencer smirks in amusement, as he expected, Daryl wasn't going to let you off that easy.

"Why do you think that is? She's let me get close. She doesn't believe in your bond, she doesn't feel attached to you. I'm sure she'd do anything for..."

He can't finish the sentence, Daryl punches him in the mouth so hard it knocks him backwards. A startled gasp escapes you, Daryl blocks the other Alpha against the ground, throwing punches at him one after another. You run out of your hiding place to go to him, you grab his arm to stop him from punching Spencer.

"Daryl! Daryl, stop it!" You yell at him.

"Get out of the way, I'm gonna kill him!"

"No! Stop it, please, it was all lies!" you yell again and get Daryl to move. "Nothing happened! Spencer didn't touch me! What the fuck is your fucking problem?!?" You yell at him punching him in the chest.

"My fucking problem? Ya say he ain't touch ya, but I can feel him on ya! I can smell him on ya!" he yells also walking towards you.

"Th-That's not... nothing happened..." You understand that it's your word against his, but you can't understand why he's been like this, you really expected him to agree and let Spencer take care of you, even if it was all a lie. "Oh my God, Spencer..." You walk over to the other man wanting to help him, but Daryl grabs you and pulls you away again.

"Get away from him!"

"Daryl!"

"Listen to me, Omega!" he towers over you, this is the first time he's used his influence over you to subdue you. You feel your lungs run out of air for a moment, your mind loses control and you lower your head in submission. "Go home, take a shower and get that smell off ya."

"No..." You try to fight his influence, but it's too strong. Daryl walks towards you, his forehead resting on yours.

"I said go home and..."

"And I said no..."

"Fuck woman!" He roars fed up with your refusals.

Daryl holds your arm tightly, his gaze falls one last time on Spencer and he starts walking home again dragging you along with him. You scream and kick trying to get loose, to no avail. Daryl is angry, you can feel it. The expedition he had pending with Rick will have to wait.

*

He opens the door to the house that is now yours and throws you inside, he closes it again violently, you adopt a defensive posture, you don't know what's going to happen, but if Daryl wants to fight, you'll fight, you don't care. He has gone overboard with Spencer for no reason, he didn't need to hit him like that.

"Have you lost your mind?!"

"Go upstairs and take a fucking shower."

"I said no."

"What the fuck is yer problem, woman! If I tell ya to do it, do it!"

"And I told you no! What the fuck is your problem, Dixon? Spencer was pulling your leg, he just wanted to..." You fall silent because you don't know if telling him that the whole thing was a bet would make things worse.

"What, Spencer wanted to, what?" he growls again looking at you through his hair.

"Nothing...he didn't touch me, you didn't have to be so violent with him."

"He wanted ya as his Omega, ya sting like him."

"That's not true, for God's sake Daryl, listen to me."

"No, I gave y'an order; go upstairs and take a shower." He towers over you again and you get dizzy.

"Cut it out, you're a fucking prick! You Marked me without me being able to object to it, you say you did it to protect me from Merle, but you're just like him!" you yell again, sick of it all. Daryl frowns, chews his lip without looking away from you, snaps and shakes his head.

"I'm like Merle? Is that what y'think?"

"Yes..."

"Fine, then I'll be Merle."

You look at him with fear as he approaches you with a determined step, the front door is blocked with his body, your mind traces a quick plan to escape from him through the kitchen, but Daryl is faster and grabs you by the shoulders, lifting you off the floor, climbing on his shoulder as if you were a sack of potatoes. You scream and twitch wanting him to let go, kicking, hoping to hurt him, but he resists. He climbs up the stairs being careful not to throw you as he moves forward and reaches the bathroom. For a moment you want to call for help, to call Carol or the rest of your classmates, but you are no longer a child, you can solve this on your own. When you reach the bathroom, Daryl abruptly releases you and locks the door.

"Get in the shower."

"I said no, Daryl, I'm not going to argue anymore."

"I'm not going to argue either, so get in the fucking shower or I'll do it myself."

You grit your teeth again, ready to protest once more but Daryl is not for jokes or more fighting, his jaw is so tense you think he'll dislocate his jaw. You snort violently and start unbuttoning your shirt.

"No, with the clothes, everything reeks of Spencer." He tells you and takes off his crossbow leaving it by the side of the door.

'No' is back in your mouth, this all seems absurd to you, but his influence is still weighing on you, he's not forcing you, but he's not giving you options to change your mind either, you sigh long and do as he asks. You open the shower door to get inside and close it again. As the water falls on your head you feel Daryl's scent cease to haunt you, you watch as he takes off his backpack and sits down on a small chair in the bathroom. He doesn't look at you, he lets you shower quietly, but he doesn't leave either. You rub your body over your clothes, Spencer's scent slowly dissipates from your clothes, but your skin still has a different scent. Fuck Daryl, you're not going to listen to him anymore.

You take off your shirt and pants, you leave it to the side of the shower and bend down to scrub the clothes with the soap, later you will wash your body, you feel like you are getting more and more pissed off, having a washing machine you are doing there show because your idiot Alpha is not able to leave you alone, his anger is not letting him act rationally dragging you in the process. You are angry and you want to scream. You want to know what's really going through his mind.

Daryl is looking down at his hands, he doesn't want to lift his head and look up by mistake, yet he catches out of the corner of his eye that you move and bend down inside the shower to rub your clothes on the side. He swallows hard as he realizes you are half naked, only your underwear covering your nakedness. Since he Marked you he has never looked at you or touched you again, he has always been careful not to get too close, he knew that if he touched you he might not be able to contain himself.

*

Daryl is frustrated, moving his hands nervously on the surface of the table in that restaurant. His gaze fixed on Merle who doesn't even pay attention to him, his older brother's eyes fixed on you, you move back and forth tending to your assigned tables, carrying plates of food and pitchers of beers.

"Look at her, Daryl." Merle tells you without taking his eyes off you. "A young Omega working here."

"Is that why we came here, because of her?" he tries to sound annoyed, but he's not an idiot, he knew you worked there, Merle isn't the only one who's been watching you.

"Because of her? What's wrong with ya, lil'brother? What's with that tone, are ya pussy?"

"No, I'm ain't a pussy, but ya made me push yer fuckin' van over here, for..."

"By an Omega, didn't ya hear me? How many Omegas do y'know in this neighborhood, Daryl?" He wants to answer but Merle steps forward. "Exactly, none, they're either old or claimed. This one I'm gonna have fun with."

"What do ya plan to do?" He scowls at him, he doesn't want his brother to hurt you.

Daryl met you by chance, just like his brother, one day when he left the shop where he works he went with his buddies to eat at your restaurant and you waited on his table. He's sure you didn't even notice his presence, with a huge smile you were nice to them, you took care of their order and brought their food, you didn't treat them any different than other tables you waited on, but Daryl followed your every move feeling something strange tighten his stomach.

"She's pretty, isn't she?" A companion said to him. "She's an Omega, you know, and you don't have a partner yet, maybe you could..." He tried to encourage Daryl, but Daryl grunted and shook his head, fixing his gaze back on his plate.

No, he couldn't do that, he didn't know you at all, he wouldn't know how to talk to you or what to talk about, he couldn't come up to you and just ask you to be his. That just wasn't right. However his brother now is just what he wants to do with you, but he doesn't intend to claim you, he just wants to have fun with you and then throw you away like a cigarette butt. No, if he can help it he won't let that happen.

Ever since Merle told him about his plans with you, Daryl has become a shadow inside the restaurant, he knows he is being paranoid and that he shouldn't be doing this, you don't know each other at all and he watches every step you take as if he were a predator, even though in reality what he was doing was preventing the real predator from getting close to you.

That day Daryl arrived late, work had dragged on in the workshop and he had not been able to leave earlier, when he arrived at the restaurant he did not see you serving your usual tables. A coworker approached him smiling mischievously.

"She left a while ago, her cycle has started and she's taken a few days off to pass the heat." She wiggles her eyebrows teasingly, but Daryl doesn't laugh, he knows it's bad news.

"Thanks." He growls and quickly runs off in search of you, he knows Merle won't be far behind and will be looking for you.

*

He knows that his decision to mark you was a mistake, it was selfish. He never thought about whether you were okay with it all, he only thought about defending you from his brother, marking you would prevent him from being able to hurt you, but it wasn't fair to you, forcing you to be with him, Daryl set a distance between you, he would come to see you to make sure you were okay, he was even serious when he told you he would let you go if you found your Alpha. But the world went to shit and he just can't let you go.

Because he likes you and those feelings have been intensifying the more time you spend together. When death started walking the Earth, Daryl didn't think twice about going to find you at the restaurant. There were several infected people trying to get into the kitchen where you were defending yourself by pouring boiling oil over them. Daryl killed several of them with his crossbow and helped you out the back door.

The living together between you really started from the time you arrived at camp with Shane and the others, Daryl thought maybe he could make your bond stronger if you got to know each other better, but you were both stubborn, the stress of the situation pushed you over the edge and most of the time you ended up arguing. He only marked you, he never fully claimed you, which means his influence over you is not complete, that's why you are able to talk back to his orders and not be dominated by his essence, Daryl tries not to use it on you because he knows he has no right, but that day has been the straw that broke the camel's back. Knowing that Spencer wants you for himself, that he wants him to remove his bond to claim you himself, that makes him sick. Because he wants to finally claim you too, he wants you to be completely his, but he can't force you, he needs to know that you want it too.

Yet he can't stop looking at you, your cycle is near, he can feel your heat altering your Omega essence, altering his own. He bites his lip several times before he rises from the small chair and removes his boots, his pants and his fingers hesitate for a second as he grips his vest. You've seen his scars, he knows, at the Greene farm you were by his side when he had the accident with the horse and Andrea shot him. He smiles at the memory of that, the split lip and the blonde's black eye when he went back to his tent. He sighs and ditches the vest walking to the shower, opening the door slowly.

You haven't even noticed his presence, concentrating you rub the skin on your arms to get rid of a smell that you don't even notice, but you're sure Daryl does. You startle when you feel his hands on your shoulders and quickly turn around.

"D-Daryl, what are you...?" you gasp when his mouth connects with yours.

It's a slow, soft, tentative kiss, neither of you quite sure what to do. Your hands tighten on his waist as his tongue brushes your lips asking for permission, in between you open your mouth and the kiss intensifies, Daryl nuzzles your neck as he leans you against the shower wall, water pouring over your heads, but your mouths don't part, your tongues tangle, your lips collide wishing you could melt. Daryl breaks the kiss for air, his forehead rests on yours, both of you trying to catch your breath.

"Omega..."

"Alpha..." You open your eyes slowly to find him staring at you. Your body trembles and Daryl kisses you again.

He stops the shower water and holds your legs lifting you off the floor. You let out a startled cry hugging yourself to his body with both legs and arms, but you know he won't let you fall. Daryl's hands grab you and he walks with you out of the bathroom and into one of the many rooms in the house.

He carefully leaves you on the bed to retrace his steps and close the door. He doesn't want anyone to interrupt you. Whatever happens in there, he wants the privacy of the room to free you, to help you talk freely and come clean with each other, as you should have done long ago.

Daryl walks slowly towards you, his eyes riveted on your body, his breathing heavy and strained, his jaw clenched. He climbs onto the mattress and crawls towards you, trapping your body under his.

"Daryl..." You whisper wanting to know what's wrong, but he kisses you again.

Slowly, like before, but you can sense a certain need in his actions, an urgency that he tries to conceal, but can't quite control. You gasp and he pulls away from your mouth moving down his neck, goosebumps rising on your skin as you feel his lips on your ear.

"I'm gonna get Spencer's scent off ya myself." He growls and moves a little lower making you shiver.

"Daryl, what's wrong with you?" you want to know, but at the same time you feel like you don't want him to stop.

If he's doing all this for Spencer, he's driving you crazy, why now this instinct to protect you? A sigh escapes between your lips as he bites your shoulder, your body shudders and you close your eyes. He wants to erase Spencer's essence and implant his own on you, you're going to let him do it, because Daryl has never touched you or looked at you like he is doing now. You hear the click of your bra, Daryl lowers the straps and pulls the garment aside letting it fall to the floor. Once again his gaze sweeps over you and you hear him growl, you purr in turn, his fingers caress your arms slowly traveling to your tits, which he caresses their shape, massaging them between his fingers, playing with your nipples until they are completely hard.

You sigh and shiver feeling your body react to his caresses, your cycle is close and Daryl is helping it along. You feel heat run through your body, you arch and spread your legs wider as Daryl takes one of your tits into his mouth. He licks and sucks on your nipple, playing with it on his tongue as his other hand moves down to your lower belly and caresses your pussy over your panties.

He wants to claim you properly, he wants your union to be complete, after so long, Daryl has made a decision. No one else will touch you, no one. Only he can do it.

His fingers brush the waistband of your panties before he slips inside, he gasps and grunts as he caresses you, your folds moisten, your clit swells as his fingers rub it, from your mouth escapes a long moan that captures Daryl's attention, his fingers move a little faster, his eyes lose no detail of every gesture and grimace that forms on your face, your body jerks as he touches exactly at the point that makes you lose your mind and you let yourself go.

The little clothing left on your bodies disappears and Daryl lies back on top of you, your legs tremble on either side of his waist as he moves rubbing his hard cock against your core that is still sensitive, but at the same time you need more. The Alpha is in no hurry to enter you, he continues to enjoy spreading caresses and kisses over every inch of your skin. Daryl wants you to ask him, desperation and need forcing you to ask him.

He doesn't have to wait long.

"D-Daryl..." You gasp as you feel him bite the line of your neck. "Alpha..."

"Do ya need it? do ya want me to calm yer desire?"

"Please, Alpha, just you..." You purr when he growls against your skin.

"Yer a good Omega." He kisses you and his hips move again.

Your nails dig into his shoulders as you feel his cock begin to make its way inside you, stretching your walls, making you feel full, complete. You moan and arch under his body, your legs tightening around his waist preventing him from being able to escape. Daryl slowly pulls out and buries himself completely again in a single thrust.

The rhythm is fast, intense, deep. He grips the headboard of the bed to thrust harder inside you, you moan loudly moving with him, feeling yourself at your limit again. Daryl hides his face in the hollow of your neck as you tighten around his cock feeling his knot begin to swell.

"I'm...I'm gonna cum, Omega...I'm gonna knot myself on ya." He whispers moving slower, almost torturing you. "I need to know ya wanna it too."

"Yes, Daryl, please, I need it." You moan moving against him, but he blocks you with his body.

Daryl moans and bites your neck again, like that time, but this time you feel his knot swell completely inside you as he cums, launching yourself into a new high that makes you cry out his name.

When the knot loosens, Daryl lies down next to you, you don't quite know what to do; if you should leave, if you should hug him, maybe do nothing, stay there and wait, but you feel Daryl catch you and hug you, leaning you against his chest.

"Daryl..."

"If ya really want Spencer, I'll do my best to break our bond, I'm selfish, but I can't keep tearing yer life apart, I ain't..."

"Daryl stop it, listen to me." You stop him and sit up to look at him. "I don't love Spencer, I never loved him, he just wanted to show me that you cared about me..." You redden a little, but Daryl feels his cheeks burning too. "I always thought you regretted marking me, but I never wanted to walk away from you..." You confess staring at him, see a shy smile tug at his mouth and he shakes his head.

"Me neither... yer my Omega... yer mine and I am yers..."

"You are mine and I am yours..." You recite as well and lean into him giving him a kiss that lingers until it becomes intense again.

Your heat has been awakened by your bond, by Alpha's influence and you are going to enjoy it.

Maybe you are going to thank Spencer, later.

*

The End...

*

I hope you liked it!!

See you in the next stories!!

[tafeekafee]

🌹💙 Take Me Down

Part 1: Angel

Part 2: Nauseous

Part 3: Eclipse

Lonely you are 커져버린 Your scars

Hajoon nearly broke down the day they posted a new Tik-Tok. He had taken out his phone while cooking some instant noodles for himself, waiting for the water to boil. He wasn’t sure when the others were planning to eat, they hadn’t asked him and he hadn’t asked them. Hajoon had craved some unhealthy food and decided to just make himself something. Their stove was a bit old so he had some time to scroll social media while waiting for everything to be ready.

Hajoon, like the other members, had his own private account that none of the fans knew belonged to him. Since he used it sometimes to look at their old content for comfort, the timeline immediately recommended their newest video.

He was curious what the fans would say to it. Dojoon really had outdone himself with ideas and had forced them through about twenty takes until the video was perfect. Hajoon was proud of it. So he looked at the comments – he knew he shouldn’t do that and definitely not judge his worth on them – but he wanted to know. What did Black Rose have to say about him?

Turns out: Nothing.

He saw his members names plop up constantly under the video, appreciating them. Basically every comment mentioned Woosung. Many people praised Dojoon’s sense of humour and people were cooing over their cute maknae. But Hajoon? No matter how far down he scrolled he didn’t find his name mentioned once. Even the older videos he had desperately searched through? He only saw his name on the few he was alone in.

He had thought it would hurt reading bad comments about him (he had in the past) but this passive nothing? It was even worse. Instead of wondering what they might say about him he had to find out they didn’t have to say anything about him at all. It was as if he wasn’t even there, wasn’t needed.

His hand started shaking and he had to press his eyes closed to stop the tears.

Therefore, he didn’t notice the water boiling over until it had flowed to where his hands were gripping the counter hard. At first he was confused at the wetness by his fingers but it took less than a second to feel the heat. He screamed in pain, recoiling backwards and nearly falling over the chair somebody had left in the way. He stared at his hand in shock, his hands which were red and blistering. It hurt a lot. He dropped his phone to the ground.

“The fuck is going on?”, Woosung asked, skidding into the kitchen and nearly slipping in just his socks. He caught himself and stared at Hajoon for a moment, then dragged the shocked younger member to the sink, letting lukewarm water run over the burns. Dojoon and Jaehyeong seemed to have arrived as well, as voices washed over him.

“It’s okay, Joon-ah”, Jaehyeong soothed, “don’t cry.”

It only made Hajoon cry harder. Why couldn’t anything go right today? Numbly he let his members swarm him. Dojoon had stopped the water from boiling and Woosung had left to get the first-aid kit. Jaehyeong stayed by his side, leading him to sit on a chair. Then he rubbed ointment on the burns and wrapped his hands in bandages.  Hajoon never stopped crying.

“I know it hurts”, Dojoon said and knelt down to look up at him, giving him a lopsided smile. “Try to breathe through it.”

Hajoon wanted to tell them, scream at them that his hands hurting was not the reason for his tears. But what good would come of that? He tried to stop his cries but whenever he thought he could stop soon his breathing hitched and he broke down again. He knew he must look pathetic, reduced to loud, ugly sobs in their kitchen. Why were the others even still there with him?

맘에 문이 닫혀가 아이처럼

Dojoon was resting a hand on his knee, Jaehyeong was gripping Hajoon’s shoulder and Woosung was rubbing his upper arm. Why were they pretending to care?

“Hajoon-ah, kiddo”, Dojoon tried again, “you’ll make yourself sick from crying. Please just try to calm down. Deep breaths.”

Dojoon exaggerated his breathing for him, so Hajoon could breathe with him and was finally able to calm down. He felt so weak.

“There you are, baby”, Woosung said with a tiny smile. Why did he use that nickname? Hajoon glanced up at Jaehyeong. The maknae was frowning.

“Don’t call me that”, Hajoon choked out.

“What? Baby?” Woosung looked confused. “I thought you liked it, but yeah, I’ll stop calling you that if you want.” Hajoon nodded, curling into himself.

Jaehyeong, who had rubbed his back until then, rounded the chair to be able to look at Hajoon properly. He even took Hajoon’s injured hand into a careful hold, soft as a feather.

“Hajoon-ah? What is going on? Hyungs and maknae are worried”, he said gently.

“I’m fine, I’m okay, Jeff”, Hajoon whispered.

“You’re not okay”, Woosung chided him and Hajoon felt himself turn red from being caught in a lie. Why did they want to know anyway? Were they going to gossip about him again, needing new fodder? Hajoon had enough dignity left to want to prevent that.

“I saw you break your leg and not show any emotion”, the oldest added, when Hajoon stayed quiet, “a slight burn should not make you cry. Did anything else happen?”

Well, I found out you all secretly hate me and want me out of the band.

“I … I don’t wanna talk about it”, Hajoon settled on saying, “not now. Can I…? Can I have some time to come to terms with it and then talk to you?”

Maybe they would grant him time to gather himself, better himself, before finally deciding on kicking him out.

Woosung slowly nodded, like he didn’t want to accept the answer. There was barely anything private between them. They knew everything about each other. About Woosung’s struggle with an eating disorder, about Jaehyeong’s depression, about Hajoon’s past tendency to drown himself in alcohol to calm his racing mind, about Dojoon’s struggles with not feeling at home anywhere but in Korea with them while still sometimes struggling with the language.

“Okay”, Woosung said, his voice full of doubt and hurt, “we’ll be here when you are ready to talk about it.”

Hajoon was glad and he didn’t doubt Woosung’s word. They had waited long enough for him to realize how much he was disliked. A few more weeks would make no difference.

He wondered why he was so dislikable. Was it his shyness? Did he seem aloof or arrogant when he was quiet, scared of speaking? Was he not good enough for them or Black Rose? Sure, he had written their most beloved song “Sorry” but nobody even thought of him when hearing the song – just of Woosung’s and Dojoon’s amazing voices. Maybe he was just plain uninteresting and therefore people didn’t want anything to do with him. No matter what, he couldn’t stand to be in their shared kitchen any longer.

“I’m going to bed”, Hajoon said and pushed himself up, the comforting touches vanishing. He was suddenly so cold.

“Weren’t you going to eat, hyung? We wanted to make pizza together later, but we can do that now if you’re hungry”, Jaehyeong said, gesturing at the unopened pack of noodles. How cruel of them to tease him with his favourite American fast food – something they seemed to have planned to do alone and now wanted to give to him out of pity.

“No, it’s okay. You enjoy.”

He grabbed his phone from the table where Dojoon hat put it, hissing in pain, and vanished into the safety and loneliness of his room.

I just wanna say goodbye

Take me now, please, undo my chain of pain

Hajoon found out just how much he fucked up the next day during band practice. There was no way he could actually hold his drumsticks with his aching hands and the bandages. He tried but he couldn’t even close his hand to a fist.

“Dylan”, Woosung called, staring at him trying to play just one note in horror, “what are you doing?”

Hajoon dropped his drumsticks. They clattered loudly in the silence that followed Woosung’s statement. He stared up at his leader who was frowning down at him, standing in front of the drum kit.

“I’m trying to play?”, Hajoon asked, confused why Woosung was shouting.

“With your hands? Hell, no, you aren’t”, Jaehyeong said and walked over to them, draping himself over Woosung’s shoulder to also look down at Hajoon.

“But … what am I doing here then?” Hajoon was perplexed. They needed him for the drums, right? Did they need him? “I need to play.”

“You can’t like this”, Dojoon added, also staring down at where Hajoon was sitting. “We’ll just use the backtracks.”

“So I’m just supposed to be sitting here, watching?”, Hajoon asked bitterly, feeling angry. If that was the case he never would have had to leave his bed that morning.

“Don’t shout. This is stupid”, Woosung chided him, “you know you can’t play.”

You can’t play.

Hajoon was aware that his hands started trembling.

You can’t play.

He had made so many mistakes in the last weeks, of course it seemed like he couldn’t play. Woosung seemed to think so at least.

You can’t play.

“If I was just going to be sitting here, I’ll go home”, Hajoon spat, standing up and running out of the room.

The door fell shut loudly behind him but Hajoon didn’t care he looked like a child throwing a tantrum. He ran until he reached his studio, falling onto the ground behind the door. His breathing was out of control and tears were running down his face. Not knowing what else to do, Hajoon curled around his knees, hugging himself tightly.

It seemed like none of the members were following him.

Can you take me down?

I’m under cold rain again

Good. He was embarrassed beyond anything he had ever experienced before, humiliated. He had never lost his temper like this.

Yet – he felt it was a bit deserved. Why had they asked him to come?

Make him watch how they worked just as well as three? That he could be replaced by a backtrack? Maybe he should just quit. They deserved a better band mate.

Maybe they wanted him to know he was replaceable, warn him of what was coming.

But their contract said they were four. A band needed a drummer. A good drummer.

The others couldn’t force him out of the contract. Maybe they wanted him to end I himself?

Yes, that must be it. 

Maybe that was for the better. Hajoon couldn’t force the members to be happy with him and he knew he shouldn’t stay this attached to people who didn’t care about him. No matter how much he cared for them, if they didn’t care for him maybe it would hurt less in the long run. They might have a chance to get happy with a different, a better drummer who could actually do his job right. Hajoon didn’t think he would ever be happy without them but it wasn’t about him. He wanted them to be happy even if it was at his own expense.

It was time to contact their lawyer. Since their fallout with J&Star Company they had kept in contact with her, just in case. Hajoon knew if he didn’t call right now, he never would. So he did.

새겨버린 내 실수 이미 늦은 것 같아

Next chapter: Sorry

[themetaphorgirl]

I hope you’re doing okay today Darling!!

I’ve been craving a soft Aaron and Spencer Drabble, I’m not even sure of the circumstances but just Spencer absolutely refusing everyone any sort of interaction or affection, he just want to be with his bubba, only wants him to cuddle him, carry him, all that fun stuff - maybe it’s at like a weird stage in the future where Spencer is acknowledging Alex and James getting together and wanting to give Alex some space so his focus just moves to Aaron in the meantime?? But also Aaron low-key loves it… idk, do with that what you will!!

Sending love always! 💙

This blended with wanting to write some Hotchley, so please enjoy this very squishy and sweet drabble.

----------

Being invited to the Lincoln House Saturday movie night was a huge deal. 

It wasn’t like Aaron’s friends didn’t approve of her or anything- Haley knew they liked her, and she and Penelope were definitely friends. But there was a specific kind of closeness that the nine of them shared, an inner circle that she didn’t belong to. And that was okay. 

(Also, if she was honest, Aaron’s twin sister made her a little nervous. Alex was unfailingly kind and nice, but Haley couldn’t help but feel intimidated by a girl with straight As, fluency in multiple languages, and a ballet scholarship. And she knew that Alex would not hesitate if she did anything at all to break Aaron’s heart.)

But she had caught Aaron’s eye in the hallway during a passing period on Friday, and he had crossed through the crowd to catch up to her. “Hi,” she said, a little breathless, hugging her books to her chest. 

“Hey, I was hoping I would run into you,” he said. 

He said something else but she didn’t quite catch it. She was too busy staring at him. Aaron was beautiful, with his serious dark eyes and his high sharp cheekbones and the cut line of his jaw. His hair was swept back from his forehead, not a strand out of place, and his uniform fit him perfectly. 

“Oh, yeah,” she said, hoping she answered him correctly and wondering if he would ever feel as thunderstruck looking at her as she did when she looked at him. 

“Yeah, it’s my turn to pick the movie for movie night this Saturday, and Penelope suggested I ask you to come hang out with us,” Aaron said. “We’ll probably start around four o’clock. Would that be okay?”

“Yes!” she said. “I mean…yes, yeah, that sounds like fun.”

“Great,” he said, and when he smiled at her his eyes lit up. “You can text me if you need to. Or Penelope, uh…you have her number too, right?”

“Yeah, I do, don’t worry,” she said. 

“Hey, Hotch, I have a question for you!” a kid in a red Lincoln tie called, and Aaron walked away, his expression falling back in serious lines. Haley resisted the urge to sigh dreamily. It wasn’t a date, but she was going to spend more time with him, at least. 

She tried on half a dozen outfits before she decided on exactly what she was going to wear. “Aren’t you just hanging out with the angry Lincoln kid and his weirdo friends?” Harper said as she lounged on her bed and scrolled idly through TikTok. “You really don’t have to dress up.”

“I’m not dressing up, I just want to look nice,” Haley objected. “And Aaron isn’t angry. He’s just…serious.”

Harper snorted. “Could’ve fooled me,” she said. “He looks like the human version of a thundercloud. I think his face would crack if he smiled.”

“He’s nothing like that, he’s so sweet,” Haley said. She looked herself up and down in the mirror. “This is cute but not trying too hard, right?”

“Yeah, you like fine,” Harper said. She glanced over her shoulder. “Somebody’s texting you.” Haley picked it up and smiled. “Ooh, what’s that face for?”

“Aaron wants to meet me early at the Honeybean for a coffee run,” she said. “I’m going to go right now?”

“Oh, an actual date?”

“No, no, we’re just hanging out,” Haley said. She spritzed on her favorite perfume and immediately second guessed herself, maybe it was too much. “And I won’t say no to getting coffee with a cute boy.”

“He’s not that cute, he’s just tall!” Harper called after as she left the room. Haley rolled her eyes. Aaron was cute, she’d heard the other girls in theatre club talking about him. But Harper was right, he was always so serious and solemn. She wondered what it would take to get him out of his shell.

It was a chilly day, on the verge of drizzling, and she regretted not grabbing a jacket on the way out. I’ll get a hot coffee and that’ll fix it, she thought. Her heart skipped a beat as she opened the door to the coffee shop. Be cool, Brooks. You’re just hanging out with Aaron and his friends. 

She caught sight of him immediately. His dark hair was unstyled, falling soft and floppy over his forehead, and he was dressed in jeans and a dark blue zipup hoodie she’d seen him wear to rehearsals. But to her surprise, he wasn’t alone. 

“Hi!” Aaron said, his eyes lighting up. 

“Hi!” Spencer echoed happily. He held Aaron’s hand and smiled up at her. 

“Sorry, he just really wanted to come with me,” Aaron said, absently running his hand over Spencer’s tousled hair. 

“No, no, it’s fine!” Haley said. “Hi, Spencer.”

“We’ve been sent to pick up everyone’s coffee orders,” Spencer informed her. “Emily hasn’t had caffeine yet today and there’s a distinct chance she might murder Dave without it.”

“Well, we can’t have that,” Haley laughed. 

She stood next to Aaron in line, close enough to smell the spicy clean scent of his body wash. “So are you going to auditions for the black box show?” she asked. 

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said. “One musical might be enough for me.”

“Oh, no, you have to!” she said. “You were so good. And I could totally see you in this show.”

His ears turned faintly pink as he ducked his head, almost shy. “I think you’re just desperate for more guys to audition,” he said. 

She elbowed him lightly. “I mean, yeah, but also you’re really talented,” she teased. 

Spencer tugged on the hem of Aaron’s hoodie. “Hotch, I can’t see what’s in the case,” he said. “Could you pick me up, please?”

Aaron picked him up easily and set him on his hip. “Better?” he asked. 

“Yes, thank you,” Spencer said. He wrapped his arms around Aaron’s neck. “Can we get something for Alex?”

Aaron laughed. “Yeah, I think we can do that, if you see something you think she’d like,” he said. 

Haley smiled at the sight of them. She still wasn’t exactly sure how Aaron’s family worked- she was starting to get the sneaking suspicion that neither Alex nor Spencer were actually related to him- but he was clearly fond of the little boy, and Spencer clearly adored him. They were so sweet. 

“Hi, you ready to order?” the barista at the register asked. 

Aaron dug his phone out of his pocket. “Yeah, hi,” he said. He balanced Spencer comfortably on his hip as he pulled up his list. “I need a large cold brew with light iced, nothing in it, and a large strawberry green tea…”

He wasn’t kidding when he said he’d been sent on the coffee run; he ordered half a dozen drinks as he read off his list. “Bubba, can we get Birdy a coffee cake? She likes those,” Spencer said. 

“Yeah, of course,” Aaron said. He bounced him lightly. “And do you want a cake pop?”

“Yes, thank you!” Spencer said.

Aaron turned to Haley. “What would you like?” he asked. 

She blinked. “Oh!” she said. “Oh, you don’t need to get me anything.”

He smiled at her, the corners of his eyes crinkling up. “But I want to,” he said. He leaned closer, lowering his voice conspiratorially. “Besides, Emily sent me with her black Amex, so the sky’s the limit.”

“Oh, well, in that case,” she laughed. “A hot caramel macchiato, please.” 

“Did you know that in Italian macchiato means ‘stained milk’?” Spencer said. 

“No, I actually didn’t,” Haley said. 

Aaron set Spencer down carefully. “Here, Bug, you can carry these,” he said, handing him the snacks. He brushed his dark hair back from his eyes, almost nervously. “Do you mind helping me carry these?”

She nodded and he held out one of the drink carriers. Her fingertips trailed over his as she took it. “Thanks,” she said, and he smiled at her, a little bashfully. 

“We should, um…we should probably go,” Aaron said. “We need to get the movies started.”

“Movies, plural?”

“We’re going to watch the Indiana Jones trilogy!” Spencer piped up. “I’m excited. I’m not well-versed in pop culture but I like Stephen Spielberg’s works so far.”

“Oh, really?” Haley said. She was never sure what was going to come out of Spencer’s mouth next, but she did have a mental list of questions a mile long. “What’s been your favorite so far?”

“Jaws, I think.”

“Jaws gave you nightmares,” Aaron pointed out, holding the door open with his hip as they walked out of the shop. 

“So did ET!” Spencer objected. “And everyone promised me it was a kid’s movie!”

“ET gave me nightmares when I was a kid too,” Haley said. “The scene when he’s all wrinkled up and dying? Terrifying.”

Aaron laughed. She smiled up at him, and this time when she brushed her hand against his their fingers intertwined, just long enough for him to squeeze and then let go. “I was scared of Snow White,” he admitted. “When I was like three. The whole hag thing.”

“When the film premiered in 1937, movie theaters kept having to replace their seats because kids were getting so scared of the evil queen that they would wet their pants,” Spencer said. 

“I didn’t get that scared,” Aaron said wryly. He glanced up at the rapidly darkening sky. “Jesus, it’s going to pour today, isn’t it?”

Spencer slipped his hand into Aaron’s. “It never rains like this in Las Vegas,” he said. 

��You’ll get used to it, Bug,” Aaron said, squeezing his hand. “For now let’s just get back to Lincoln, okay?”

The rain held off just long enough for them to make it into the lobby; Haley shook a couple of raindrops from her hair. She has never actually been inside Lincoln House before, and she tried not to make her gawking too obvious as they climbed the stairs. Everyone knew Lincoln was for the “troubled kids,” kids that were on the edge of getting expelled from their own schools but had some kind of exceptional academic or athletic or artistic talent that made them desirable enough to St. Thaddeus to offer them a scholarship. The building certainly didn’t look as nice and and new as her own dorm did- the paint was peeling in places and the architecture was shabby and outdated- but there was a kind of warmth and coziness to it, especially when they made it to the common room. 

“Hotch, thank god, I need caffeine,” a girl in ripped jeans and a vintage tee shirt said. Haley had seen her around multiple times before; she had never seen her in correct dress code once. “Which one’s mine?”

“Jesus, Emily, give us a second,” Hotch said. He set his drink carrier down on the table and took Haley’s from her. “Everybody can figure out their own.”

Spencer zipped over to where Alex was sitting and held out one of the paper packets as the rest of the kids swarmed the drinks, bickering as they searched through them. “Aaron said we could get you a coffee cake,” he said. 

Alex beamed at him. “Thank you, dearest,” she said, leaning over to kiss his cheek.

“I got a cake pop!” he said happily. 

A tall boy with soft sandy brown hair leaned over the back of the couch and held out a cup for Alex. “Chai latte?” he said. Alex tilted her head back to be kissed and he happily obliged before handing her the cup. Haley hid a smile. She’d heard the rumors, but they were cute to see in person. 

“Who ordered a macchiato?” JJ called. “None of us ever get macchiatos.”

Haley raised her hand. “That’s mine,” she said, and half the assembled group whipped around to look at her. 

“Oh damn, Haley, when did you get here?” Derek said, grinning at her. 

“I came with Aaron,” she said. 

Penelope made a face. “Who’s Aaron…oh! Hotch!” she said. “I always forget he has a first name.”

“He, um, he asked me to help him with the coffee run,” she said. She glanced around; he wasn’t in the common room and she felt a little awkward. “He invited me for movie night.”

“Oh yeah, we know,” the girl in the ripped jeans said, smirking. Alex shot her a look from across the room and she shrugged. 

“Okay, I’m here, we can start now,” Aaron said as he walked back into the room. He had changed from his jeans to a pair of joggers, and he held a stack of DVDs in his hand. Penelope zipped over to take it from him. “Everybody’s met Haley, right?”

“No, no, not everybody,” Penelope said as she popped the first disc into the DVD player. 

Aaron pointed them out. “That’s Emily, that’s Dave, that’s James,” he said. “You know Penelope and Derek, I think you’ve met JJ…and you definitely know Alex and Spencer.”

JJ handed Haley her coffee. “Hopefully we don’t scare you off,” she said. 

“What do you mean? We’re delightful,” Dave said dryly from behind his laptop. 

“Okay, I’ve got it, movie’s starting,” Penelope announced. She found her spot on the floor between Spencer and JJ; the younger kids had made a nest of blankets and pillows. “Everybody find a place to sit.”

Haley glanced around. Aaron beckoned to her; he’d claimed a seat on the couch and there was enough space for her. She sat down gingerly next to him and smiled. 

Rain started tapping against the windows ten minutes into the movie, and pouring hard by thirty. She sipped her coffee and scooted herself a little closer to Aaron’s warmth, as close as she dared. Snuggling would probably be too bold, but she wouldn’t be mad at all if it happened. 

Spencer scrambled up from the floor. “Bubba, I’m cold,” he said. 

“You want my hoodie?” Aaron asked. He unzipped it, and as he pulled it up it rucked up the hem of his shirt, just enough for Haley to catch a little glimpse of his stomach. “There. Better?”

“Yes, thank you,” Spencer beamed. The hoodie hung down to his knobby little knees. “Can I sit next to you?”

Aaron blinked. “Uh…you don’t want to sit with the girls?” he asked. 

Alex sat up a little; she had been leaning back against James and skimming a book while the movie played. “You can come sit with me,” she said. 

“No, thank you, I want to sit with Bubba,” Spencer said, clambering up to Aaron’s other side. Aaron glanced over at her, almost apologetically. But it was so cute, she couldn’t be put out. Spencer tucked himself against Aaron’s side, his knees drawn up to his chest, and Aaron draped an arm around him. 

“Okay, I’m ordering pizza, last call for any special requests,” Dave announced. Derek sat up eagerly. “I’m not ordering a whole pizza just for you, Morgan. Haley, anything you’d like? We’re getting cheese, pepperoni, sausage…and Hawaiian, because Penelope makes wild choices.”

“Hawaiian pizza is delicious,” Penelope announced. 

“I’m good, those all sound great,” Haley laughed. 

Aaron leaned closer to her. “Oh, watch this, this is my favorite part of the first movie,” he whispered in her ear. 

Haley shivered happily. He was close enough that his breath could warm her skin, and she hoped she didn’t actually blush. 

So far, though, movie night was going well. Aaron’s friends were fun, they bantered and bickered with each other and commented on what was happening in the movie. She just wished she could have a little more one on one time with Aaron, but she couldn’t blame him for being distracted by his little brother. The storm was getting louder and louder outside, and Spencer was leaning heavily into the protection of Aaron’s side. 

“Pizza’s here!” Dave announced as the credits started to roll, and immediately the nine of them were up and moving like a well oiled machine, setting out plates and napkins and drinks. Haley got up too, even though she wasn’t sure what she should be doing. 

Alex handed her a plate. “Having fun?” she asked. 

“Oh! Yes, I’m having a great time,” Haley said. 

Alex smiled at her. The older girl was more dressed-down than Haley had ever seen her; her long red hair was pulled back in a messy ponytail and she wore leggings and an oversized flannel shirt that Haley suspected belonged to her new boyfriend. “Aaron has been so excited,” she said. “We’ve been telling him he should invite you for ages, but he’s been nervous.”

“Really?” Haley said. 

“Really, but you didn’t hear it from me,” Alex said. “Sorry about Spencer, though. He’s been having a little trouble adjusting to James and I dating and he’s been a little clingy with Aaron lately.”

“No, it’s fine, it’s adorable,” Haley said. “It’s really cute that they’re so close.”

Heavy footsteps thundered up the stairs. “Jesus, those stairs suck,” Dave panted. “Okay, come get your pizza.” Derek bounded past him. “Quick, somebody stop Derek before he takes a whole one for himself!”

“And everybody go quick so we can start the next movie, I want to know what happens,” Emily said.

Haley got herself a piece and sat back down; Aaron took his seat next to her with a plastic to go container of salad. “Aren’t you hungry?” Haley asked. 

“No, just not much of a pizza guy,” Aaron said, dumping a truly insane amount of ranch dressing over the salad. “What did you think of the first movie?”

“It’s great, I can’t believe it’s taken me this long to watch them,” she said. 

Aaron grinned, one corner of his mouth tilting up more than the other. “They’re my favorites,” he confessed. “I’ve seen them a million times and I never get sick of them.”

She leaned closer to him, her arm bumping up against his. “That’s how I am with Cinderella, I’ve seen it so many times I could probably quote it in my sleep,” she said. 

Suddenly Spencer popped up and they jumped apart. “Did you know Cinderella’s glass slipper is probably a mistranslation? The original French text actually indicated it was a fur slipper,” he said. 

“I didn’t know that, that’s so interesting,” Haley said. 

Alex leaned forward from her seat. “Spencer, do you want to come sit with me?” she asked. 

“No, thank you,” he said, climbing in between Penelope and JJ in their blanket nest again. 

Emily stood up, wiping pizza sauce off her chin. “All right, let’s start the second one, let’s go,” she announced. 

The second movie was definitely a little more intense than the first. It wasn’t like Saw 5 or anything, but it was still more than she usually liked to watch…but on the other hand, when she jumped and squeaked in surprise at what was happening on the screen, Aaron wrapped an arm around her shoulders. 

She tried to play it cool but she had a feeling she was failing miserably. They both sat stiffly for a bit, but eventually she relaxed against him and he did too, his hand curling around her shoulder and his thumb rubbing her upper arm lightly. 

It didn’t last. 

Spencer scrambled to his feet as Penelope and JJ shrieked at the screen. “Aaron, can I sit with you?” he asked, glancing briefly back over his shoulder at the TV and immediately turning back. “It’s scary. I don’t think I like it.”

“Yeah, yeah, c’mere,” Aaron said. Haley missed the warm weight of his arm, but Aaron picked up his little brother and settled him on his lap. “You’re okay, Bug. It’s just a movie, you’re safe.”

“It’s scary,” Spencer mumbled into his chest. 

Haley couldn’t possibly be mad that they were interrupted. Aaron held Spencer on his lap for the rest of the movie, patting his back and talking to him softly during the scariest bits. It was so sweet. Most boys she knew hated their little brothers, but Aaron was so kind and so gentle. 

By the time they finished the second movie Derek had brought out a massive bag of candy to pass around, and Spencer was yawning heavily. “Bug, go get your pajamas on,” Alex said. “You look like you’re about to fall asleep.”

“I’m not tired,” he whined, nuzzling his cheek against Aaron’s chest. 

Aaron kissed the top of his head and set him on his feet. “Birdy’s right,” he said. 

Spencer rolled his eyes. “I’m going to stay awake, you know,” he said, but he headed down the hall. 

“My money’s on him falling asleep before Sean Connery shows up,” Derek said. 

“How do you know he’s in it?” Emily said. 

“I roomed with Hotch last year, he watches these movies on repeat.”

Haley raised an eyebrow at Aaron, her lips quirking up. He shrugged. “I wasn’t lying, I’ve seen these a lot,” he said, half laughing. 

Spencer made it back just as the third movie started, dressed in his pajamas with a soft ivory colored blanket clutched in his hand, and he made a beeline for Aaron. He lifted him back into his lap and snuggled him close, wrapping the blanket around him. It didn’t take long for the little boy to drop off, his breathing slowing down and deepening. Aaron rocked him a little absently as he slept, patting his hip. 

By the time the movie finished all the kids were a little sleepy, and Spencer was out like a light in Aaron’s arms. “Oh, those were fucking great,” Emily said. “I can see why Hotchner is obsessed with them.”

“Yeah, they’re just so long,” Penelope yawned. 

Alex got up from James’s side. “Here, I’ll put him to bed,” she told Aaron. “You should walk Haley back.”

“Are you sure?” Aaron said. “I can always just-“ But Spencer had woken up just enough to stretch his arms towards Alex, and she picked him up easily. “All right, well…I’ll be back soon.” He turned to Haley. “Are you ready?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty late,” she said. “Bye everybody, thanks for letting me join.”

They said goodbye in a happy flurry, with plenty of offers for her to come back any time. That was encouraging, she knew enough that if they didn’t like her they wouldn’t ask her back. 

The rain had stopped but the night was damp and cool, the cobblestones slick under her shoes. She slipped a little and Aaron grabbed her hand, and after the initial shock they kept walking hand-in-hand. 

“Thanks for coming over,” Aaron said. “Sorry Spencer was taking so much of my attention.”

“No, it’s fine, he’s so cute,” Haley said. “It’s sweet to watch you two. He loves you so much.”

Aaron smiled. “Yeah?” he said. “I hope so.”

He walked her to the front door and reluctantly let go of her hand. “That was a lot of fun,” she said. 

“Yeah, it, uh…it was,” he said, ducking his head as if he was suddenly shy. 

Before she could talk herself out of it, she raised herself up on tiptoes, squeezed his arm to brace herself, and kissed his cheek. “Goodnight, Aaron,” she said. 

Even in the dim light she could see him turning red. “Goodnight, Haley,” he said, his voice squeaking a little as he smiled at her dopily. She squeezed his arm one last time and then ran inside, her heart skipping excited little beats. 

[dogsofardour]

part one | part two

Just getting some Jotileen and Holiday Fluff out of my system :)

Oh! There's some suggestive-ness by the way!

In 1992, Father's Day was on June 21st. This was 10 days before Jolyne was born.

Of course, Jotaro and Eileen didn't exactly know exactly when Jolyne would arrive, but Eileen thought that the holiday was too close to her due date to not celebrate it!

Jotaro gave a big huff about it since he "wasn't a dad yet" but Eileen countered with how spectacular he's been to her (and by extension their baby) throughout the pregnancy! There for the appointments, the cravings, the crying, the grosser stuff and so forth! The amount of consideration, tenderness, patience and love Jotaro has given Eileen when she's felt so... So all over the place! Overwhelmed? Happy but scared? She couldn't have imagined a better boyfriend. Especially since Jotaro has been attending university on top of it (two full terms of research papers, readings, lectures, it's a lot even without a baby on the way). Somebody else would've surely buried themselves in the course work and not done much else. So, why not celebrate?

Granted, they couldn't do too much. Eileen was pretty heavily pregnant, and although her due date was on July 3rd... Yeah, she's exhausted.

A week before Father's Day, Eileen proposes that they can spend the afternoon at a nearby beach.

"You can nerd out about the local fauna while I chill with the biddy bug under an umbrella," she suggests.

"... I would like to see more Comet Stars..."

"And maybe you could find me another seashell?"

"...Maybe."

"You know I know that's a yes!"

The night before Father's Day Eileen found herself wide awake. Not unusual, since the little bug liked to roll and kick when Eileen's finally ready to hit the hay. The doctor said as her due date gets closer the baby should've been slowing down a little, but little Jolyne seemed to say otherwise. Eileen tapped out a little pattern where she could feel her little baby kick her stomach. The little bug really enjoyed it.

Jotaro's conked out beside Eileen, his nose pressed against her collar and his arm stretched across her shoulder. His breath is a nice warm puff against her skin. It was cute seeing Jotaro sprawled partially on her, and nice to feel his sleeping body against hers. Usually he climbed into bed long after Eileen.

She enjoyed it for as long as she could, but sooner rather than later Eileen had to pee. She slipped out of Jotaro's grasp carefully. He was a pretty light sleeper.

It's when she's washing her hands Eileen started to think about lunch the next day. The morning would be havoc, getting the towels, bathing suits, sunscreen, medication, go bag (just in case). It would be nice if lunch was already packed.

That's how she found herself in their kitchen at 2 in the morning, making a couple of recipes Holly taught her. Eileen didn't typically like to cook, but when it was for someone - it felt special. Soon enough, everything was tupperwared, and refrigerated if need be. Eileen felt more at peace. When she slipped into bed with as much grace as a heavily pregnant woman could muster, it was with a satisfied smile.

***

"--And give your mom an easy day, alright? She's been working hard for you," Jotaro's morning voice was the first thing Eileen heard.

She kept her eyes closed for a couple more moments, trying to keep her breathing even. It was always a treat to hear Jotaro talk to Jolyne when he thought nobody else could hear.

"I... We're really excited to meet you, and I just," he laughed a little, "I know you're going to be wonderful." He traced a warm finger over Eileen's belly. "Just like your sneaky mother."

Okay, so he knew she was awake, Eileen never claimed to be a great actor. Jotaro's stupidly handsome face smirked at her when she opened her eyes. Smug bastard.

"What time is it?" she asked through a yawn and a stretch.

"We have plenty of time, don't worry."

"Mhmm," she hummed. "B'eakfast?"

Jotaro ruffled her bed head, "I got it."

"Aw you really do care!"

Eileen could see the roll of Jotaro's eyes as he clambered out of bed, "Pfft. Whatever."

"'Whatever' whatever," Eileen stuck her tongue out at his retreating back.

Damn, his ass looked great in those dolphin boxers.

***

Eileen's late night lunching paid off, they made it to the beach by 11:45 with the glorious Sunday sun blazing down on them. The little grains of sand that made its way between Eileen's sandals and feet were scorching, but thankfully not too much of a problem.

It took a couple of trips from the car to their spot to unload everything (given that Jotaro refused to let Eileen carry anything other than their cheap beach ball), but in no time the couple were sprawled on their towels, taking a little break from all the movement.

The umbrella Jotaro had struggled with shaded both of their bodies, but Eileen knew something truly awful was on the horizon. The damn sunscreen.

"I can just stay here, in the shade, no catching rays, no problem? Eh?" Eileen offered, eyes on the dreaded bottle in her boyfriend's hands.

"If that isn't the biggest lie I've ever heard," Jotaro popped open the cap.

"Oh, what about this one?" Eileen challenged. "'Only the tip, I promise?'"

Jotaro turned beet red. "That's completely unfair!"

[6lost6but6trying]

April 7 1:53am

Im here sitting in front of my tv after a gaming session with my best friend…

Wishing u were playing with us

I miss ur voice

I miss u giving us heads up and knowing where they are

I don’t know how you know but you do in detail which amazes me

If sitting here in front of my tv about to cry myself to sleep

Because I feel like I got nothing figured out

My relationship I have is feeling like it’s turning bad

But besides that I just feel useless

Like I’m not anywhere I wanna be yet

No goal

Nothing

Just here

Alive

When I don’t wanna be

I wanna cry myself to sleep

But I don’t wanna cry myself to sleep…

I don’t know

Im just really tired

Im overthinking so many stuff and as I hear my thought telling me I’m useless and i will never reach whatever goal I may have or a better future

I found myself just remembering the time I laid with u with my head on ur shoulder so close to your chest telling u that I’m nowhere financially stable and feel useless and I shut me up as u play with my hand that I had up and gently point to the middle of my palm tapping it gently telling me “ you will catch up to her financially, u will have money, you’re not useless, you’re somebody, you will make it, I believe in you”

Your words still run through my dull brain and it’s making me miss u more

I know if this ends,

You May or may not take me back in as a friend and I’ll respect either choice…

I just know I probably won’t be over you even tho I haven’t seen u in a while…

Haven’t heard that voice in a while…

I found myself the other day hearing ur voice saying “ look you little shit” and I smiled…

I was at work and he asked me why I was smiling and I just told him I remembered something funny that’s all

It’s not something funny

It’s something I like u calling me

I find it cute I don’t know why…

Im still so sorry all this happened this way

I just feel like I’m now being pushed against a corner of a wall and I want to be killed….

Don’t get mad at me

I thought about it again but then remembered that I promised you I wouldn’t do it…

I didn’t

But I did hurt my leg physically

It may be bruised in the morning, I have no idea but I got some sort of high which made me take deep breath and wanted to keep doing it til my thigh purple…

I stopped…

But please don’t get mad…

I turned to alcohol

I drank a little bottle I had then I created a ice tea drink and put the last bit of alcohol mix into my drink

I was feeling a buzz as I played my game

I told him I didn’t wanna video and just play

I didn’t want my best friend knowing I wasn’t ok

I did squats and spins in my room to feel a buzz and it somehow worked…

Im not ok.

Just glad there wasn’t anymore alcohol

All I want rn if to have things calm…

I just still catch myself missing you when I shouldn’t be

Im with her, I do love her but what does it say when I do love her and don’t wanna lose her but the more we fight the more im craving YOU …. You’re so close to me that I can walk to you…. C

I can drive 3 min just to see you…

With her it’s 10 mins by car…

That’s more than a 40 min walk….

I asked god so Many years ago when I came out to give me a gf so close to me….

He gave me you two…

At the same time…

I met you both in July 2022

Im so mad at god for doing this…

Im not even religious anymore but a part of me is still kinda religious….

I begged him for a person close to me and gave me you both…

Obviously you’ve always been the first choice….

I just choose her

And you already know why…

But then I question if I made the right choice or if I should’ve stayed friends with u and see where that could’ve gone before I did anything with her and kept her as a friend…

It’s all stupid and I wish I had a manual but that’s impossible….

When I find myself depressed I still think of me laying with u and I feel safe…

I know if I got to know u way more…

I could’ve loved you

Yes I was “ in love” but like as in “crushing hard on you” where my tummy gave me butterflies everything im around u….

I just wanna be in your arms again….

I even miss your natural scent I don’t know what it is but it’s YOU

You see right through me when I’m hugging you and I miss you not letting go til I do…

This sucks… I’m sorry

I hope I do see you again…. And everything isn’t so hectic …

[mrsavery]

Hot mama

Captain Syverson x Reader

REQUEST

Summary: Based on the song Hot Mama by Trace Adkins (link)

Warnings: angst, mentions of painful labor and c-section, low self-esteem, insecure reader, extra weight, breastfeeding, dirty talk?, soft Syverson

Words: 2k

It was early Sunday morning, your husband was snoring next to you, children were sleeping in their rooms, and you tried your hardest to sleep too. Even with your eyes closed, his hand over your stomach and keeping you hot, the thoughts could not stop running around your head.

Living in a small city had its perks. It was good for raising children in a small community where everyone knew everyone, and you did not have to be afraid of something happening to your family. If you needed the help of any kind - someone to babysit, repair the roof, or deliver groceries - there was always somebody that will help you with a smile.

Yet, there were also bad things that came with it. Rumors spread faster than flu in the autumn season, everyone always had an opinion on how you should do things, what to make for dinner, how to fix the broken fence, or how to find a husband. The elderly ladies liked to place bets on who would sleep with who, who would get pregnant by whom, or when they would break up.

But the worst were housewives and single mothers. In a population of around two thousand, there weren’t many of them. They spent their days meeting up in cafes or parks and chatting about other families, mostly, talking around their backs and accenting their wrong-doing.

Last night you and Sy had gone out and gotten dinner in his favorite restaurant. It was rare for both of you to get out of the house and spent time alone, knowing that you had three small children, the oldest being only four and the youngest being six months old.

You could remember it all. 

The stares of people in the restaurant.

Their voices behind your back.

She still hasn’t lost the weight…

He is going to leave her, not his children, he is going to take care of them…

How can he still love her?

“Ignore them,” Sy had said, as soon as you had made your way to the table. “They are just jealous.”

But what if they were right?

It’s been six months since you had given birth to your youngest. The pregnancy was not easy, and you had spent most of it on bed rest, watching Netflix while Sy and your mother had done the house works and taken care of the children. You had gained extra pounds from constant sugar cravings and spending your time in bed, not able to exercise.

The labor you would never be able to forget. The pain had been stronger than in previous ones, and you had almost bled to death if doctors had not decided to perform a c-section. You remember holding Sy’s hand through it, him talking about the future of the family of five and you hoping that everything would be fine with the baby.

“This is the last one,” Sy had said, as he held his youngest in his hand. When he looked up, his eyes were filled with tears. “I do not want you to go through this again.”

Looking in a mirror, you saw a completely different person. Your body was not as fit as it was when you had met Sy years ago. There were stretch marks covering your body. Your hips were wider, and you had extra weight around your belly and thighs. You would never be the same woman again, the one your husband had fallen in love with all these years ago.

The old clothes that you wore before pregnancy did not fit you, and you had no other choice but to wear Sy’s t-shirts and track pants around the house. You did not have time to work out and take care of yourself, like going to the spa or manicure. It was hard to have time for yourself when your husband was working most of the day and you were left taking care of the children.

Sy was a perfect husband and father. He always found time to spend with kids and help you with cooking, ignoring his need for sleep. He never complained about the changes in your body, never said that you needed to change, get rid of extra weight, or start looking at yourself.

“I love you no matter what.” He had said last night, after arriving home. “You are amazing, and I could not ask for a better wife and mother of my children.” 

You loved and were proud of your body for what it had done. It had been their home for nine months, carried life and taken care of it, protected it against all the wrongs and dangers of life. It had gone through painful and endless hours-long labor to only bring a new person into this world. It produced milk to feed the small miracles in your arms and provided them with nutrients.

Yet, you never stopped wanting your “old” body back, the one before children. Seeing all those slim and fit women around you, in the grocery stores, in parks, on the streets - you were jealous of them, of their bodies. Deep inside you knew - no matter how hard you tried, you would never get that body back.

And the fear of Sy leaving you one day was also there. 

What if he decided that you were not enough for him? What if you could not satisfy him with your body anymore? What if he found someone better? Someone younger, someone without stretch marks or extra weight. Someone more beautiful…

You did not want to think of it. Seeing that it was a little after eight, you decided to get up and start making breakfast. It was hard to make Sy move his arm off your body, without him mumbling about you leaving him alone, but eventually you managed to do it.  

“Someone had to make breakfast.” You said to him, putting your legs down on the carpet.

“The breakfast can wait.” He said back and tried moving you closer to him. 

“The children cannot. I will take care of it, you can sleep.” It earned a groan from him, but Sy allowed you to get up.

You put on Sy’s old t-short and track pants over your naked body, not bothering to find any underwear,  and left the room, leaving your husband asleep in the bed. After a quick look at the two oldest ones, you found your youngest wide awake in his bed, kicking his feet.

“Good morning, baby!” He smiled, upon hearing your voice, and started to move even more actively. “Did you have a good night?” 

Your youngest one was the most active of your children, always moving around, throwing his arms and kicking his legs around, making it hard to dress him. Changing his diaper was the easiest part, compared to getting on his clothes. It took you ten minutes to get him ready.

On your way down, he started to get fussy and tried to bite your breasts through the shirt. It was a usual activity for him, signalizing that he was hungry and wanted to eat. When you sat down on the couch and moved up your shirt, he instantly pounced onto your nipple and started eating.

The living room was a mess. Children’s toys were everywhere, three dirty socks were laying under the coffee table while on it was empty boul and two mugs filled with water. Pictures on the walls were turned upside down, there was a stain on the white rug near your feet and -

“What’s on breakfast?” You heard your husband ask, as he walked down the stairs. He stopped on the last step of the stairs and looked around the messy room. “Was it here yesterday?”

You noded. “It must have been. We did not turn the light on yesterday exactly.”

“How did my mother let this happen?”

“She loves her grandchildren, and besides - our children are unstoppable.”

Sy sat down next to you and smiled at your youngest in your arms. “Enjoy while you can. Soon it will be only mine again.”

“Sy!”

“What? It’s not like he is going to eat milk for the rest of his life.” You did not say anything. “And you are one hell of a woman - beautiful, smart and extremely sexy.”

“You know it is not true.” 

“Do not let those evil women get in your brain.” 

“But they are right. I haven’t lost the extra weight that I gained with pregnancy. My body has changed, and I will never get it back, no matter how much I want it.”

“Hon,’ Sy put his fingers under your jaw and made you look at him. “You are still beautiful to me and always will be. I love how your body has changed over the years, and, truly, I do not want you to have your previous body back. Do you know why? Because this body - ” His eyes moved all over your body, just as his arm wrapped around your shoulders. “This body has done wonders. It carried my children, our children, for nine months, and then endured hours in pain to only bring them into the light. Your beasts, your lovely breasts, have fed our little ones and provided them with all the nutrients they needed.

All scars and stretch marks prove that you loved me enough to agree to have children with me, to make a family with me. ” With his lips, Sy kissed away the tears that had fallen from your eyes and wrapped his arms around your shoulders to bring you closer to his body.

“To be speaking truly, I find you incredibly sexy by walking around in my clothes all the time. It turns me on, and I wanna bend you over the closest surface I can. When I see you taking care of our little monsters, it makes me want to have you pregnant all the time because I know that I have the right woman by my side.

You should not care what others think of you, and do you know why?” 

You looked at him. “Why?”

“Because the only opinion that matters is only yours. Not mine, not our children or parents - only yours.”

Sy pressed a kiss on your forehead, and you closed your eyes. You did not know before how much you needed to hear him say all those things before, for him to say that you were beautiful and sexy even after three kids.

“I will love you no matter what because you have all I ever have wanted. You have put up with my demons, fought them with me, and yet you never left. You stayed when I was at my lowest, and it made me only love you more. 

When I look at you at night, soundly sleeping against my chest, I cannot stop thanking the universe for making you fall in love with me and deciding to become my wife, my best friend, my whole life. Without you, I am nothing, [Y/N], no one.”

You were in tears from his words. Sy was not a man of many words, his actions spoke more than anything, and he never liked to talk about his feelings. His words brought tears to you and gave reassurance that he loved you and found you still sexy. You were beautiful to him.

With one hand on his rough cheek and the other around your baby, you pressed your lips to his and kissed him with all the passion you had. There wasn’t much you could say after his confession, but you could show him how you feel with your lips. Later you would show him more.

“I love you, Sy.” You said while trying to return your breathing to normal. Your youngest was unbothered by the kiss since all he cared about was getting his breakfast, just like his father.

“And I love you, do not evet doubt my love for you.” Sy smiled at you and skipped his hand over your child’s soft hair. “Do let those old cunts talk. They are only jealous, because their husbands do not love them as much as I love you, and do not fuck them every night until exhaustion with kids in near rooms.”

“Sy!” 

[ichinawa-aizawa]

Pretty Poison - Izuku Midoriya

Warnings: Dark Content! Incest (big brother Izuku x sister reader), Degradation, Some Manipulation / Coercion, Possessive Behavior 

Notes: 3.2k words. Please read at your own discretion! To reiterate the warnings this is dark content. I’ve had this brain rot for a bit and just had to yeet it into existence. 💜

You are too pretty for your own good. So pretty it’s tempting, sinful, a one way ticket to hell for the brother who can’t close his eyes without imagining how your panties must cling to your pussy.

Izuku’s mouth is dry, feels like the fake cotton at the top of pill bottles. He wants to sink his fingers into the fat of your thighs and flip your skirt over your hips so he can see the perfect wet folds that you’re hiding between your legs.

Maybe this is on purpose. Inviting him over to your new apartment, telling him you wanted to watch a movie like old times, only you’re dressed like a little whore. “Cause I’m gonna see my friends later, Izu,” you explained as he blushed at your appearance. “Don’t you think it’s cute?”

He thinks it’s fucking slutty, and he hates how seeing your hard, perfect nipples through your white tank makes his cock weep for you.

Some stupid chick flick is playing on the tv; it’s just static to his ears, the world around him feels fuzzy as his attention narrows in on where you sit next to him. All plump flesh and smooth skin, one bare leg tossed over his so your skirt rides up your thigh.

You are the last person he’s supposed to want. Strong but oh so darling, with lashes that flutter every time you chirp his name. Nii-san. Naughty, poisonous, always getting him into trouble and leading him around with veiled intentions and failed promises.

You’ve always pushed his buttons, teased him, especially when he was younger and smaller. Back when he was weaker (though, he's feeling quite weak at the moment). “When are you gonna get big and strong so I don’t have to protect you, Izu?”

Now, now, he's broad and laden with power, muscles ripple under his skin and his jaw and tongue are sharp. Hero work has hardened him, covered him in scars that cut deeper than your forked tongue ever has. Your temptations won’t break him, just wear at his sanity.

Because Izuku can tease, too.

“You need a bra,” he clicks his tongue against his teeth, verdant eyes settling on the swell of your chest, “Gonna poke somebody’s eye out.”

He punctuates his point by flicking your nipple fast and hard, enough to make your mouth pop open with a whine as you recoil and cup your tits.

“Ow, Izu," you pout, pretty lips pushed outward and voice almost childlike as you complain, "That's gonna leave a bruise.” You’re soothing your sore nipple with your thumb as you put a little more distance between your body and his on the couch, and Izuku has to press his fingertips into his thighs to keep himself from stopping you, from gripping your hips and pulling you on top of him.  

“If I wanted to leave a bruise I could,” he breathes, feeling his own gaze growing heavy.

He knows you’re smart enough to read between those lines, and you do. He can see the heat on your cheeks as you narrow your eyes, giving him that look that used to terrify him when you were kids. It still makes his cock twitch.

You’ve always been impish, something devilish simmering in your blood like forbidden fruit spoiling in the sun. He wants to eat you up before you go bad. He needs to.

It’s that darkness that keeps him running back to you, keeps him saying yes even when you invite him over to watch a movie he hates. He’s done everything you ever asked, and he knows it’s not out of love.

He wants you to want him: he craves your attention as much as he yearns to have your slick pool against his tongue.

“Keep talking like that and I’ll make you kiss it better, nii-san.” Your lighthearted tone is accompanied by a giggle and a bat of your eyelashes, and Izuku knows his control is slipping.

“You won’t.” It’s bait.

“That a challenge, Deku?” You still say his nickname with mockery, you don’t cheer it like the public does for their hero. Because he’s not a hero to you, never has been. He’s just your whiny big brother, whose green hair is unkempt like a forest floor and whose cheeks always flush pink just at the sight of your panties in the laundry.

He might be bigger, shoulders testing the limits of his shirt’s elasticity, and stronger than nearly every other hero, but that doesn’t change what he is to you. Just a needy, petulant brother.

But he is raring to change your perceptions, to make your knees buckle and your ego crumble, make you quake and fall apart like the buildings he's always saving people from. Will you let him save you? He thinks, if he plays his cards right, you will.

“Yeah, it’s a challenge. And like always you’ll chicken out—”

A flash of color catches his eye—baby blue, a delicate, powder blue pressed tightly against sweet, wet flesh.

Suddenly his dry mouth is salivating.

You’ve thrown your leg over his lap, figure dark against the luminescence of the screen playing behind your shoulders.

Izuku takes the initiative to pull your flimsy little tank-top strap down your arm. He’s surprised at how thick his fingers look against you; he expected it, of course, he knows he’s so much bigger than you now, but it’s the actual difference that catches him off guard. He could hurt you with his hands, break you.

Your tit spills out in front of his face, nipple puffy and achingly hard. He sinks his fingertips into the fat of your breast without hesitation.

“Yeah,” he switches his gaze from your chest up to your face, some kind of satisfaction building in his gut at the sight of you so wide eyed and nearly afraid, “Let nii-san kiss it better.”

His tongue is hot and flat against your nipple, licking a long, slow stripe. Your skin is sweet, the bud of your nipple rolling against his tongue as he curls it upwards and flicks.

Jade eyes stare up into yours, mirth filling his pupils until they’re so dark you can see your own reflection.

“Ah—fuck, y-you can’t just look at me while you do that!”

“Why’s that?” He catches your fragile skin between his teeth, careful with his sharp canines as he pulls at the peak of your nipple. You buck forward in his lap, fingernails digging into his shoulders as a hiss sounds through your clenched jaw.

“Just, just cause.”

Izuku can practically hear your sanity snapping, your thoughts hazy as the perverse lust he feels creeps over the ends of your nerves.

He stuffs your whole nipple into his mouth, groaning and suckling against you as his hands trail up your thighs. You’re quivering, legs cinching around his lap like you’re trying to hide what he’s about to discover.

Greedy, his tongue laps at your tit, saliva dripping from the corners of his lips, and all the while you rock in his lap and let out pretty little moans.

"Izu--Oh, oh, nii-san…"

Thin cotton greets his fingertips, your panties cutting into the curve of your hips like strings wrapped around a present. He toys with the material, fingers snapping the elastic and skimming the hem until he dips lower. One of your hands fists into his thick hair when his thumb circles your clit. Your knuckles tug at the roots, making his stomach twist at the twinge of pain that travels down to his cock.

"You feel how wet I make you?” He pants.

The way your slick is dribbling over his fingers, overflowing from the sides of your little blue panties is obvious to the both of you, and that seems to annoy you.

You huff, turning your head away to look at anything but him as he plays with you. Your folds are soft, slippery, sucking in the edges of your panties as he rubs two fingers against your covered hole while his thumb makes your clit swell from the friction.

“God you’re such a fucking pervert,” but you’re the one rolling in his lap, pushing his head into the valley of your breasts so he will swirl his hot tongue across your nipple.

Izuku's cock is throbbing in his sweats, so hard and full of blood that it’s arched up toward his stomach, flushed tip taking in air as it protrudes from his waistband. You lurch forward from his touch when he presses particularly hard against your clit, your pelvis bumping against his swollen tip. He repeats the action to keep you moving, riding, sliding against his cock until his neck beads with sweat.

“I’ll stop if you want me to.” He doesn’t want to, but he’s nice enough to give you a way out. He’ll let you scurry away with your tail between your legs before you come crawling back for more.

“N-no,” you let out a heavy moan, one that bears the weight of your all broken rationalities, “F-feels too good.”

Smirking, Izuku gathers the front of your panties into his fist, pulling up until the fabric cuts into your clit and creates pressure. Your head falls back, spine arching as you shamelessly drive your hips forward, gliding your clit against your panties.

“You’re nothing but a desperate little whore, aren’t you? Just a few touches and you’re going to let your big brother fuck you.”

He pulls the threads tighter, threatening to rip the delicate piece of clothing if he jerks any harder. Your head nods quickly, lips closing and parting as you try to speak against the currents of pleasure.

“Y-you can touch me, but we can’t, we can’t—”

Your voice cracks as the hand unoccupied by your panties pries your fingers off his shoulder, his arm shoving your hand between your bodies so your palm presses against the fat cock straining against his stomach.

Oh, he can touch you? You're allowing him--as if it's a little treat? No, you're just as eager as he is. He knows this. But the way you're pretending is kind of cute, trying to convince yourself despite the fact that you're already slutted out on top of him.

“You sure about that? You sure you don’t wanna feel nii-san’s big, hard cock in your pussy?”

A grunt leaves Izuku's chest as you shove down his pants and boxers enough to envelop him in your little fist, silken skin sliding against the sweat of your palm.

He can hear you curse into the back of your mouth, little whispers of fuck and oh my god stuck in your throat. He’s proud of how well hung he is, and he’s even more conceited with the knowledge of how many girls he’s had cum all over his cock. You’ll be the next victim, he’ll make sure of it.

Both of his hands go to work on your cunt. He keeps your panties pulled tight against your clit with one, while the other pushes past the hem to prod at your slit. You’re panting, quick, hot breaths fanning down over his face as you continue to move in his lap; fist pumping, hips rolling, a little nympho full of life and lust.

Two fingers stuff into you, wet, gummy walls sloshing and sucking around the digits.

“Fuck, you’re tight for a little slut. Maybe I won’t fit.”

He knows you don’t like to feel inadequate.

“No! You’ll—” mewling, you sit deeper in his lap, taking his fingers farther inside of you, “You’ll fit, I promise.”

Didn't take long for your tune to change.

“Oh you promise?” Izuku grins wide, canines catching the dim light from the credits that roll on the forgotten screen.

“Yes, yes, I promise, Izu, promise, want your cock so bad,” it’s all jumble between your whines and moans, your hand squeezing around the length of his cock.

He had no doubt that you’d be needy, but this? Your cunt squelching and drooling, the way you’re begging so easy, eyes finally looking back at him and pleading. This is just shameful. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Izuku leans back into the couch, hands unwinding from your panties and pussy and instead make a mess against your hips under your skirt.

“Go on, then. Put me inside you.”

You sit and blink at him for a moment, lashes glistening with remnants of tears. You always look so darling like that, big eyes and pouty lips.

It doesn’t take you long to do what he says. You finally peer down and actually look at his cock, all swollen and fat and leaking pre just for you. The sight makes you gulp; he can feel the way your muscles tighten at the realization that you’re about to be seated on something that large.

“You're not… Not gonna help me?” You look worried now, and Izuku immediately takes pity on you, his poor little sister.

“I will, sweet girl. Push your panties to the side, and I'll help guide you down, alright?”

You nod like you’re dumb, but he knows you’ve just gone a little stupid with lust and shame.

Your fingers pluck at his cock, moving his sweats down his thick, powerful thighs so you can spread yourself over him. He groans when he feels your squishy, tight flesh begin to suck in the tip of him, walls opening to let him sink inside of you.

The flames of hell race up his back when he’s hit with the realization that he's finally taking you. You. It’s like the final conquest for him, the ultimate frontier of your gorgeous, willing, pliant body finally being his.

“Good girl,” he coos, hands splaying across your ass so he can help ease you down, “good girl, so, so good for your big brother.”

Your face lights up at the praise, cunt gliding down his shaft. You’re snug around him, warm and delicate, your juices spilling out and down Izuku's fat balls.

As much as he wants to, as much as his ego wants to, he knows he’s not going to last long. But he’s wound you up so tightly, can even feel your swollen clit sliding against him, so he knows you don’t need much to come undone.

He watches you with the sickest delight, his teeth gritted as he admires how your perfect pussy fully engulfs his cock. Dark green hair curls against you, and he decides you look prettiest with his cock bulging in your belly.

“So big, Izu, fuckfuck, feel so full of you.”

He has to convince himself not to combust right here and now when those words fall out of your mouth. Izuku holds in a breath as he starts to bounce you on his cock, your tits jostling with every thrust and your lips parting to moan involuntarily with every movement.

It’s overwhelming to be inside of you. Izuku suddenly wants to do everything to you. His body aches to pull your hair, to slap your face, to spank you until you’re crying his name. He wants to pop his thumb in your ass and bite your tits until you bruise. He wants to overpower you, he wants to own you, in every way.

His name comes out as a moan when his cock hits that particularly soft, spongy spot in the depths of your cunt and he decides this won’t be the last time he fucks you. You're his now. There's no going back.

It’s hard for him to find a rhythm when you feel this good, this tight and warm. Your nails are digging into his shoulders as he does all the work, beefy arms lifting you up and down, up and down, over and over again in his lap. His soaked balls sound so good slapping against your ass.

“Bet you look so pretty when you cum, don’t you?”

You’re already fucked out, the width of his cock making your eyes see colors and your ears buzz. It takes you a second to register his words and nod in accordance, a little mumble of yes resounding between the chorus of skin hitting skin.

“You wanna cum for me? Cum all over nii-san’s cock?”

He was using the title as a jab earlier, but now it feels heavier in his mouth. This time it means more than a jest, a prod at your ego. Now it’s some fucked up promise, an authority that has you dissolving into a puddle on his lap.

“Please, please,” you beg, using your legs to balance and fuck yourself on his cock as he barrels into you, “Please, make me cum, nii-san.”

All it takes is a few swirls of his thumb on your abused clit for the muscles in your tummy to spasm and your cunt to cinch around him. Cream spurts around Izuku's cock, thick and hot like honey. You scream his name, loud enough for neighbors to hear, loud enough to rattle his bones and make his heart ache. The column of your neck arches back, your tits heave, and you are the prettiest poison to ever seep into his veins.

Izuku pulls you up on his cock, the tip popping out of you as he begins to spew strings of cum onto your pussy. He pulls your panties underneath his cockhead to catch every stream, his seed seeping into the already wet fabric, then he watches with glassy eyes as the blue cotton disappears into a pool of white.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, forehead falling to his shoulder, “Ohmygod.”

The sourness of shame is setting in. You climb off his lap and fix your shirt, nipples staining the thin fabric with his spit.

“You alright?” He doesn’t even bother to tuck his cock back into his pants, instead he cups his empty balls and throws an arm behind his head in satisfaction.

You run your fingers through your hair, shaking your head in disbelief, “That was the best orgasm I’ve ever fucking experienced and it’s because I fu—" You shake your head. "I’m not even gonna say it.”

You can't say it, Izuku assumes, so he gives you an out. “You don’t have to.”

You just let your brother fuck you to his heart's content. You got off while stuffed full of his cock. You don't have to say the words out loud. He knows and you know, and that's all that matters for now.

“Fuck. I have plans, I can’t go out like this.” You motion to your wrinkled skirt, to the droplets of cum creeping down your thigh.

“You can and you will,” Izuku clears his throat, thankful his voice doesn't crack midway through the command, “And you’ll come back home so I can check that you’re still soaked in my cum.”

The look on your face tells him that he’s won. You’re stunned, put in your place, but you’re smiling like you can’t wait to see what else your big brother has in store for your pussy.

When you do end up leaving, looking only slightly less disheveled, Izuku walks you down to your friend's car, his hand too low on your back and even slipping to your ass. The light squeeze he gives it before you bend to slide in the passenger side is a promise. He has so much more to give you.

[solomonish]

The Brothers and What You Are to Them

Do you ever wonder what it is about you that keeps your demon by your side? Not necessarily the traits you have that attracted them to you (and still do), or what they think makes you you, but the reason you’ve become so irreplaceable and imperative in their life that they don’t think they could live without you.

Nowdateables: here!

To Lucifer, you feel like stability.

Lucifer isn’t an insecure man, nor does he need someone to lean on. He doesn’t find himself overwhelmed by what the world throws at him. He is capable, and he can shoulder the responsibilities expected of him and then some, no matter what they should turn out to be.

...at least, that’s what he thinks, and that’s what he says.

But he does find himself asking you to run errands for him when he needs them done correctly. He does find himself entrusting you to keep the roof of the house connected to the rest of it if he has to go away. You are the one who knows how he likes his coffee and when it should be brought to him to power him through the rest of his work without cutting into his scant sleep time. You keep things under control when everybody seems hellbent on making sure things don’t go the way Lucifer plans, and then you’re there to kiss his forehead despite his empty protests and remind him to take care of himself, too.

Lucifer doesn’t feel like the ground is shaking beneath him, ready to topple down at the slightest breath. But if he did, he knew you’d be there to keep him from plummeting down.

To Mammon, you feel like acceptance.

Mammon is called a lot of things in his life, especially by those who are supposed to hold him dear. He’s never smart enough, never behaved enough, never trustworthy enough, never good enough. And, when he gives up and decides not to make himself sick over expectations he’ll never be able to reach, he only gets worse. To everybody else, he’s scum, and sometimes he can’t help but feel it.

You should be saying those things to him, too, with the way he can’t help but hoard your time and your affections and yes, even your things sometimes.

But you don’t. You pet his head and hold him close and give him affection. You do it even when he makes it difficult on you and tries to tell you that he doesn’t want it. He does. He needs it, even. For the first time, he feels like somebody, he feels like he reaches the expectations set up for him and that he actually has a shot to be what somebody wants.

And when you tell him that you don’t have any expectations for him, none except for him to just be himself, he believes you. And it feels so, so nice.

To Leviathan, you feel like peace.

You would think that a life spent nearly entirely in a room playing video games would be easy and peaceful enough. Saying so aloud is a surefire way to get Leviathan to snap.

Envy never allows him to know peace. His video games, manga and anime are a distraction along with a passion. At least he can fend off some of the negative energy with the knowledge that he is the biggest megafan of any number of franchises and titles. Still, despite that, despite the calming water he modeled his room after, he still feels the jealousy tearing at his inside like unstoppable tumultuous seas.

But you stop that. You are the greatest thing, and even if he isn’t sure why you’d ever consider him worthy, he can find that peace in being the one that you’d rather spend your time with and give your affections to. He makes it hard, and he knows he does - but you persist, and you cast that life raft out to him and finally, he feels like maybe he won’t drown anymore.

When he does allow himself to sit and just be the person that, for some reason, you love, his waters still and he knows what it is to really be loved.

To Satan, you feel like understanding.

Satan has had to build a wall around himself brick by brick to hide the ugliness that nobody would dare approach, that he never even asked for and never would have.

He is the king of masks. For any situation, he has about twenty that he can switch between flawlessly, keeping you on your toes and creating a labyrinth so involved nobody will ever figure it out. Well, everybody except for you.

You managed to find your way to his core, sometimes when he wanted you too and always when he didn’t. Sometimes, you figured out the riddles he laid out for you like breadcrumbs, your smile lighting up and lightening his heart so spectacularly he felt like a new person. Other times, you snuck in with a wrecking ball and made your own way to his center, leaving the walls he set up in ruins. Most of them, he isn’t sure he wants to rebuild - not if they keep you out. At the end of the day, even if it’s cheesy, even if it’s unexpected (and that bruises his ego to admit), he finds that you understand who he is so intimately, you may know him better than he knows himself.

Maybe, with your constant meddling, you invented the person he’s become, or at least helped in his formation - but, if you like him that way, that might not be such an insufferable fate.

To Asmodeus, you feel like sweetness.

The life led by someone with eyes on him all the time is ferocious.

Even for somebody who can charm anybody with a simple glance, Asmo has an equal talent for scorning those he leaves behind. For every person gushing at his Devilgram and tracking his whereabouts for an autograph or a photo, there’s someone cursing his name and spewing the worst kinds of insult that will never directly reach his ear. In his life, you take the pleasure with the pain, and you don’t complain about either or you’ll lose the only good you’ve got.

But nothing about you is so vile. You don’t chase after him just to prove that you’ve met him (even if, at first, he was a little miffed at the prospect), and you’d never say something so soul-shatteringly hateful it’d make even a demon lord cringe. You give him the kindness that doesn’t come with expectations or desire for something in return, the kind that might even come unconditionally. You make him feel like he doesn’t have to prove anything, like he’d still be the most wonderful, beautiful creature in all the realms to you even if (gasp!) everybody else turned their backs on him. There’s a sort of innocent kindness in the way you smile at him that gives him a sugar high, and he isn’t always sure of what to do with it.

Once, he was a creature made to be loved and adored, and you make him feel like there was never a time where such a privilege was ripped away from him.

To Beelzebub, you feel gentle.

Beelzebub is a big guy, and he’s a well-known athlete. People don’t look at him and think he’s fragile goods.

And he isn’t. He is his family’s defender, and he’s been through battles terrible enough they still hang over those who even know about them like storm clouds. But inside his tough exterior, the uncaring aura he accidentally portrays when all he can think about is keeping himself fed, there’s a person that craves the same affections everybody else does. Beelzebub isn’t just hungry for food - he feel empty, entirely hollow, like a void he’s worried will grow too big to be distracted and swallow everything he cares about whole. Sometimes he feels so empty he could just curl up and die.

But, whatever it is you have, it fills him up so deliciously and he’s hooked. It’s even enough for him to just know that you’re around and taken care of - that staves off the worst of it, and he suddenly doesn’t feel like a beast that will be the downfall of all he loves. You give him patience with his need to eat, you give him gentleness with your touches and your smiles, and your voice doesn’t have that exasperated edge everybody else’s does. 

He isn’t a powerhouse or a bottomless pit to you - he’s a person, and it’s more than he could ever ask for.

To Belphegor, you feel like forgiveness.

Belphegor does a lot, he is a lot, and most of it feel wrong.

If he could keep himself awake for longer, he might have enough time to dig himself into a pit of self-loathing in the way Levi does. But he just feels empty, a void broken by occasional bouts of fury, or hatred, or pain of some sort. It’s hardly an existence, so he does the bare minimum, hardly passing the threshold for living because to do so would be more than he could deal with. Hell, the only time he has to think and to do things, he spends trying to inconvenience the person who (supposedly) cares most for him or hurting others - hurting you.

God, how can you look at him like that? Like he’s somebody you can trust, like he’s somebody worth an effort when he himself doesn’t give a damn? It’s weird, it’s stupid, it’s just like you humans to do, and it can never stop. It’s too much for him to deal with, but that’s a good thing. The time he spends wrestling with your forgiveness is time spent being productive, something he’s not exactly been accused of before. And sometimes, that diligence spreads to other thins: his relationship with his brothers, his relationship with humans, his relationship with himself.

You make him want to put the work in because you make him feel like he amounts to something - and you make him feel like his mistakes haven’t completely blotted out his hopes for the future the way he used to think they did.

[introvert--weeb]

Hello! I love reading your works but can i have request?

If it's not too much i request for a mikey, draken, mitsuya,angry,smiley,ran and rindou (sorry if it's too much, i love them all i can't pick) with a s/o bakugou katsuki? But the s/o is a bit calmer since she have a angry management but when she snaps she became the explosive queen?(lmao) and called someone extras,nerd,shitty and when fight she keeps saying "DIEEE!"

Oh God! I love this idea so much!

And of course I can write for all of them! I really don't have that much of a limit on how many characters I'm willing to write about in one request 😅 I'm also really glad you enjoy my other writings :)

Thank you for requesting and I hope you enjoy it!!

--

Mikey, Draken, Mitsuya, Smiley, Angry, Ran, Rindo with a fem!Bakugo Katsuki!reader

TW: mentions of language, anger management, violence, name calling

--

Mikey

Just like Mikey, you would like to give others nicknames rather than call them by their actual name. However, while the blond would simply add '-chin' at the end of names or change the way it's said, you would create these nicknames by either how annoying they were to you or if you were friends, by their features.

You were like a firecracker. Short fuse and when it was lit, you were explosive in both your words and actions. Many of Toman had learnt this the hard way. Especially poor Baji. He had made a comment that had set you off, next thing he knew he was facing the sky as Draken and Mikey were holding you back. Never again did he make the mistake of saying something that would upset you.

While you were usually OK if not provoked, there were times when you couldn't hold back. This was especially true when it came down to fights. Even the Invincible Mikey knew to not get too close during these moments. After all, he had witnessed what happened to those that had.

You would be the loudest and most explosive on that entire battlefield. It was intimidating for the rival gang when you had gotten into the zone. Yells of you telling all those 'extras' to get out of your way, with each punch you would scream out for them to 'die'. Yep, the others are going to get as far away from you as possible.

Would be back to your calm self after letting all your frustrations out. This is what surprises your boyfriend the most. You could be yelling at people to die as you punched them only to become sweet and innocent afterwards. It did remind him to never provoke you to the point of you losing it.

Draken

No one could understand how Draken had ended up with someone as arrogant as you. You made it no secret that you believed in your skills as a fighter, even looking down on others you deemed too weak.

However, this was mainly to make sure others knew that you should be taken seriously. Being a girl in a gang, especially the girlfriend of the Vice Captain, had others looking down on you all the time. You were strong on your own merits. You didn't need to be dating Draken to get people to notice this.

Most of the time, you were pretty calm and people felt they could approach you without any harm coming towards them. After all, you were actually a nice person under all that harsh exterior. But they still made sure to watch what they said around you, remembering how short your fuse was.

When you snapped, the person who got you to that point best start praying for their life or running as far away as they could. You were known to be quite agile when it came to fights and this would be no exception. A swift punch to their face followed by you yelling for them to 'die you shitty extra'!

Ken would never admit it but you terrified him when you got like this. After all, he was the Vice Captain to one of the strongest delinquent gangs in Tokyo. He shouldn't be scared of a girl that was shorter than him. People reminded him that he could stop you by picking you up. Draken knew this wouldn't do anyone any good.

"Ken-ny, you not going to stop her?" Mikey asked, appearing at the side of the taller blond while munching on his dorayaki. Draken just sighed before explaining that he couldn't. In fact, he doesn't even believe that Mikey could stop you when you got like this. The best course of action was to just let you have your fill so you could calm down.

The poor boy who had lit your fuse was now lying black and blue on the ground, blood pouring out of his now-broken nose. You simply blew a strand of hair from your face before making your way to your boyfriend, not wanting to talk about the incident.

Mitsuya

Being a pacifist, Mitsuya didn't agree with how fast you would turn to violence when you lost your patience with somebody. After all, he was a firm believer in that most situations can be sorted by talking it through. So people were really shocked when it came to light you were dating.

You were both the complete opposites of each other in how you dealt with overwhelming stress. However, you both did make a great couple when it came to other aspects in the relationship. It's just people hardly saw that. And nobody seemed to remember that you were actually quite a calm person who just so happened to have a short fuse.

What seemed to set your fuse of the most is when others looked down on you or your boyfriend. People seemed to think that because he didn't actively fight those he had a disagreement with.

So when someone dared to talk smack about your beloved Takashi, you were not going to take it. And so, that is how Mitsuya was trying his best to hold you back as you were shouting and trying to kick out at the person that had made you angry.

"Let go of me, Takashi! I'm gonna rip that shitty nerd's arms off, that's all!" You may have been trying to convince your boyfriend to let you go but the threat of removing the arms of the boy was keeping him from doing so. Even the boy who had annoyed you had begun to feel scared for his safety and so chose this moment to walk away.

"Oi! Get back here you damn extra! I'll kill you!"

Mitsuya simply held you until you calmed down, softly shushing you as you yelled out more threats. But when you finally had calmed down enough, that was when Mitsuya would begin to lecture you on how violence and threats were uncalled for in situations like that. Although he would express his gratitude that you stood up for him.

Smiley

You both would get on so well together. Same energy and love for violence and threatening people. in fact, you both would tell each other "I'll kill you" (affectionately of course) when the other was being annoying. The best type of relationship.

You would definitely give Smiley a nickname that only you would call him. And Nahoya would reciprocate with his own nicknames he had for you. They would definitely just be affectionate insults.

When you would be on dates, Smiley would love how you muttered under your breath about all the extras and nerds that were getting in your way. Sometimes you may actually call them that to their face if it was a particularly bad day, scaring the poor souls at how aggressive you seemed.

Nahoya would ride his bike with you clinging to his back. You would both ride around Shibuya, speeding around corners just to feel that adrenaline high you both would crave. Sometimes you would both find yourselves in a fight against people that made fun of you both.

Smiley loved watching how intense you became. It was like a switch flipped in your mind, turning you into a small ball of pure rage. Shouts of 'DIE' could be heard throughout the streets of Shibuya as you delivered blow after blow against your opponent. This was when he knew you were perfect for each other.

Angry

You would remind Souya of a female Nahoya, just without the constant smile. No, instead you would usually appear unapproachable with your resting bitch face.

Angry would be the sweeter of the two brothers and so would do anything to keep you safe. But that was easier said than done. As you were a lot like Nahoya, you would get annoyed easily and quickly resort to violence.

The main reasons why you ended up In fights was to protect your cute boyfriend. One comment on how he looked stupid with his angry expression and the person was seeing stars. There was no way you could let someone get away with making stupid comments about Souya! These damn extras needed to learn their place in the world!

Your anger made your vision red. The word 'die' seemed to become a lot more frequent, to the point where your victim was beginning to genuinely fear for their life.

Souya had to grab your arm to get you to stop. He was scared that you could end up getting hurt or worse, you could end up going through with your threat. He didn't know what he would do if you ended up in juvenile detention. Especially if you could be there for 10 years.

"Please stop Y/N!" The fact his voice was so teary is what had snapped you from this rage-filled trance. Turning your attention to the blue haired Kawata, you got off the now unconscious boy and decided it would be best to continue your hang out in an attempt to calm down.

Ran

He would love how you had two sides to you. One side was calm yet arrogant, similar to his own, while the other side happened to be his favourite. You would explode and takedown a handful of gang members on your own.

Ran wouldn't admit it out loud to anyone but you, but he found the second side so hot. Maybe it was how you moved so elegantly as you dodged each punch before dealing your own? Or maybe it was the strength you used behind each throw you aimed towards your opponent? Either way, he thought you were a damn work of art.

It really didn't take a lot to get you to switch. However, you made sure not to explode when Ran or Rindo was testing your patience. You may have agility and strength but you were nothing against their combo. However, Ran would never hurt you and Rindo would only gently restrain your limbs. It would definitely be just to show you that you were not on their level.

You often followed the brothers when they were going to deal with gangs that tried to muscle in on Roppongi. That could not be forgiven. After all, Roppongi belongs to the Haitani brothers.

While the brothers were busy with the leaders, you would be left to take out the others. It would be a struggle but you could manage most of them.

"You damn extras need to learn not to take what doesn't belong to you!" Another one had fallen. This continued until Ran and Rindo finally dealt with the leaders. It was an obvious victory for the brothers.

"You look so hot splattered with blood, baby," he would whisper in your ear before leaning back and sending a wink. You rolled your eyes before starting the journey back to their home.

Rindo

You were like his own personal guard dog. Not that he needed one but he did appreciate how you were always there for him. In fact, he loved that you didn't view him as the weaker brother and instead saw his amazing combat strength. You had to keep reminding him that Ran couldn't actually use his baton as efficiently without Rindo locking them down.

He had yet to really see you in action as the 'explosive princess' people knew you as. It did bother him a little but he never did express this disappointment outwardly. After all, he was a Haitani brother and so had to keep up appearances. Especially if he wanted to be viewed as an equal with Ran.

It was as he was on a date with you one day that he saw the mysterious explosive side of you. And he totally wasn't prepared for it.

It started when a high schooler had approached you both, telling you how you should ditch a weakling like Rindo to be with him. Rindo was about to kill this boy for even trying to get you to leave him as well as to prove that he wasn't weak.

However, he was left speechless when you had thrown a punch into the boy's stomach, causing him to double over and drop to his knees. You used your boot to push him onto his back before starting your assault on his face.

'Who do you think you are, you shitty extra! My Rindo is a hell of a lot stronger than your weak ass! Now do me a favour and die already!" Even as you were talking, fists smashing into his face as blood exploded from his nose and lips.

Rindo could only watch, not knowing whether to be terrified of you or to find this whole display extremely hot. The blood that covered your fists was a sight he wished he could see more often.

Once you were satisfied that the lesson had been learnt, you stood up and dusted your clothes. "Let's continue our date babe!" And now you were back to being the calm and sweet girl Rindo knew best.

[marvus-xoloto]

Marvus Pale Headcanons

I'm going to do my best to keep these organized, but ngl I have so many thots abt marv. Head empty, heart..... full :) So... Let's start broad and narrow it down?

Marvus to me reads as somebody who has a hard time differentiating his feelings between concupiscent and conciliatory. He's got enough of an emotional IQ to understand when a relationship isn't working for him or is entering unhealthy territory, so black romance tends to be a little easier for him to navigate than red romance.

Within red romance, Marvus's experience with intimacy is sexual. I mean, the man exudes sexuality and he's kind of the face of sexual desire on alternia just in general. When people get to know him, it's usually flirtatious, implicitly sexy, and invasive.

So with all of that in mind, when I think of Marvus and red romance, I do think he struggles with: a. differentiating sexual intimacy vs non sexual intimacy b. opening up and letting go of his persona completely and c. commitment in general.

For these reasons, I do think he's prone towards gravitating towards an all in one red quadrant; I would say rails with pails, but I really think he'd struggle to keep his feelings all sorted. Marvus is not exactly the kind of person who likes to keep things in boxes, anyway. Not only is it easier for him to navigate intimacy- sexual or not- when there is no boundary, I think Marvus dislikes the idea of romantic boundaries at all with people he has feelings for in general. Quadrant vacillation isn't his thing for these same reasons.

Okay, so with all of that out of the way, let's get onto the specifically pale romantic fluff 😎💕

Marvus's favorite way to be touched is firmly; some people like to escape reality a lil bit when they're getting pale and jiggy with it- and sometimes Marvus does, too- but he generally prefers to be grounded. He's a very intelligent person and he likes to think and strategize his way through problems rather than let them sit and stew.

So with paps, he likes the standard shoosh-pap, but he also likes (and I wrote this in my fic, read it love it reblog it praise me for it etc) when his moirail goes thumb to cheekbone, fingertips to spine. He has sharp angles to his face and he enjoys when his moirail traces them. He also understands intimacy very well this way: he loves feeling your hands around his throat, and the trust between you two in that moment.

He's a very thoughtful person, and his love languages are both quality time and gift giving. He learns all sorts of minutiae about your hobbies, and always picks up small little things that make him think of you. He's also really good at reading people; I've spoken about this before so I won't go in depth here, but he's very good at talking you out of your bad mood.

I argue that Marvus, while he doesn't like feeling idolized in his quadrants, does like to feel special and praised in redrom specifically. Celebrating his albums, or working on songs together, or even just showing up at his studio make him feel like you care, and let's him feel connected to you.

Marvus does like his secrets, and there are times where you dig and you dig and you dig and you still can't unearth them. It takes a while for him to trust that you won't run to the press with it.

He can be a little hot and cold at the beginning. Because Marvus is out on tour a lot, or on interviews, or just generally got damn busy, he sort of like. Lives out of his limo and party bus a lot. In his mind, this isn't exactly the environment for a deep romantic bond and it's a very difficult environment for trust to grow. But he does crave that closeness and unconditional love from another! And honestly, his space is his biggest blessing: he needs a lot of distance in all of his relationships in order to not feel smothered. He likes to feel as if he desperately misses someone and he plays up the pining soo much lol. He wants your attention.

Yeah that's all I got right now! I feel a little unfocused, but if y'all want me to go deeper or clarify on anything specific, just ask! (Please ask me abt marvus my blorbo love of my fucked up mind. I'm begging.. Asks are also open for other characters <3).