#But even my hate towards August it's still strong and if I see his face I want to punch him lmao

[anonfromtheflight]

I really like Young Royals. And I mean, obviously, I'm here lol but I REALLY like how it makes me feel. I like that a gif or picture can make me go feral because I'm flooded instantly by the same feelings and emotions I got when I first watched the show.

I don't remember feeling this way about anything else before and I feel grateful this show exists and I had the opportunity to find it (even if it was late AF lmao)!!

[omg-im-such-a-masochist]

𝚄𝚗𝚜𝚘𝚕𝚒𝚌𝚒𝚝𝚎𝚍 𝚅𝚒𝚜𝚒𝚝𝚘𝚛

Pairing: AU!Criminal Malakai Black x Fem!Reader

Warnings: +18, adult language, angst, fluff, implied smut, nuances of potential toxic relationship

Tag: @theworldofotps , @writtingrose , @aerynscrichton , @daddyhausen , @melissahausen , @unoficialy-married-to-ace-austin , @sophiewolfheart-blog , @sultryfandoms , @new-zealand-chic , @crowleysqueenofhell , @thealliasylum , @legit9thlunaticwarrior , @adamjf , @josiewrites , @seeingstarks , @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch , @whenimakeitshine1234 , @moxkindagirl , @sunshinevirus , @im-just-a-mississippi-girl , @ripleyswhore

A/N: Tomorrow (August 19th) is the birthday of my beloved babe! I’d like to wish the happiest birthday to one of the most amazing people I’ve ever had the pleasure to meet: Crystal aka @theworldofotps . This is a small birthday gift to one of my best friends, thank you for being a part of my life! I love you 🌹😘

Annoyance seemed to be your constant mood for the last couple of weeks. You absolutely hate when he does this shit! Goes “missing”, and doesn’t reply to your texts nor answer your calls, FaceTime seemed to be unknown to him, and at this point, even a handwritten letter would be enough to settle your aching heart. But no, not to Mr. “I Decide Whenever You Get To Talk To Me” who’s too good to let you know he’s still alive. If he wants to play this game, you’ll make sure he has to deal with the consequences.

“Oh no no no no, c’mon! You gotta be fucking kidding me!” You whined in the deserted street while your eyes spotted the front door to your house slightly open. This was the cherry on top of your already shitty and stressful week, a goddamn robbery! This had to be some sort of bad-taste joke from someone in the skies above. Who could’ve known a couple of unfinished Hail Marys would come back to bite you this hard in the ass.

Grabbing a piece of log from the backyard you steadied and mentally prepared yourself for the possibility of having to hit someone in their head as you entered the living room. The strong and fresh scent of coffee hit your nostrils like a punch, and when the log fell from your grip with a loud thud on the living room’s floor, you for once wished it was a burglar inside your home so at least you wouldn’t have to deal with the petulant figure before you.

“Hello, sugarplum. Long time no see” Malakai smiled widely. His face was shaved smooth and there were still remnants of his black makeup underneath his pale white orb.

Anger was the first feeling you acknowledged, followed by relief that soon enough was replaced with hatred.

Malakai sat in the hot pink armchair, dressed in black, and with an ankle resting on top of his knee. His tattoo sleeves were on display, and his inked hands played with the Alice In Wonderland teacup in his hand.

The next nine words were the only ones your lips seemed to know how to mutter “That cup is meant for tea, not for coffee”. But upon hearing the playful chuckle coming from him, your numb state of mind was quickly replaced by an annoyed one, “And get the fuck out of my house!”

The playful smirk didn’t leave Malakai’s lips, not even after hearing your angry outburst. He simply took another sip of the steamy black liquid and moaned “Why does coffee always taste better at your place?”

You were not going to back down from this, not this time. With a determined gaze, you pointed to your front door and only spat one word at him “Leave!”, before placing your bag on one of the wooden wall hooks and taking your way straight toward the kitchen.

The loud thumping of heavy boots followed you to the kitchen and the once numbed anger began to rise to the surface.

You turned around to face the man who was responsible for your constant sorrow. “Are you fucking deaf? I told you to get the fuck out!”

Without breaking his gaze away from you, Malakai filled his cup with the freshly brewed coffee before simply answering “No”.

Your fingers closed around one of the black handles in the acrylic knife holder, instantly pulling the blade and pointing at him “Get out or I’ll make you get out!”

Malakai’s deep laugh only served to annoy you even more, he leaned on top of the kitchen island, wetting his lips with his tongue and momentarily making you forget why you hated him so much right now.

“I always loved that fire in you. You’re so…saucy” He chuckled. “So different from all the other women I’ve been with. There’s something about you that is so addicting”.

You knew what he was doing, it was with the very same smooth talk that Malakai convinced you of forgiving him the other couple of times he pulled out the same disappearing stunt, only this time you were not having it.

“Out! I’m not going to repeat mysel- What the hell are you doing?!” You screamed soon after Malakai got on top of the kitchen island on his hands and knees. He slowly crawled toward you, instantly reminding you of those predator documentaries you used to watch on Animal Planet during one of your many sleepless nights.

When he finally reached you, Malakai sat on the cool granite stone, his legs hanging from the island countertop now serving as a shield that keeps you within his reach.

“Don’t you love me, sugarplum? Didn’t you miss me? Not even a little bit?” His sugar-coated voice covered your needy heart like a warm blanket.

Shaking your head in disbelief, you asked him to leave once more, but Malakai ignored your request and continued:

“Is this because I didn’t call you? Is that why you’re so mad at me? Because I didn’t send you a goodnight text” He smirked, “I thought we surpassed that”. Malakai’s hands cupped your cheeks, pulling your face closer to his, he let his thin lips bump into yours. The feeling of his smooth skin against your chin brought a feeling of unfamiliarity deep inside you.

“I already told you that I work with some dangerous stuff, and I don’t want you to be a part of that. It’s not a safe place for a beautiful woman like you”

“Julia knows everything though. She’s a beautiful woman and still, she knows everything you’re up to! You answer her calls, texts, emails…hell, I bet you’d even answer her telegram if she sent you one”

“Julia’s different-”

“Why? Because she’s adorable and blonde?”

*What is wrong with me?!* You mentally asked yourself the minute the words left your lips. You don’t have a problem with Julia, as a matter of fact, you’ve never had one. You love her like a younger sister and know that Malakai feels the same, *So what is my problem? Why am I suddenly attacking her as if she was my enemy?* You asked yourself once again until Malakai’s voice pulled you back to the present.

“Because she works for me. Nothing more, nothing less, and you know that” His hand traveled down your face, closing his grip around the sides of your neck, Malakai growls “Stop being so fucking paranoid! And stop accusing me of cheating on you, otherwise I’ll do it just so you can have a real reason to bitch about it”.

“What a fucking asshole you are!” You abruptly pulled his hand away from your neck “How fucking dare you?! You know what? I’m so fucking done with you! Get the fuck out of my house, get the fuck out of my life, I never want to see you again!”

“You’re breaking up with me?” Malakai tried to hold back his amused smirk but it was in vain. “Are you jealous, sugarplum?” He asks, and once he sees how flustered you were, his teasing smirk turns into a toothy grin. “Come here” He tries to pull you closer to him by your neon green tank top but you successfully manage to escape him.

“Fuck off, jerk!” You slapped his hand away “Stop, Malakai. I’m serious! I’m mad at you and I don’t want you here anymore”

“Malakai?” He chuckled “What happened with ‘baby’, ‘handsome’, and ‘my love’?”

“Dissapeared once you started acting like a fucking prick!”

“I love when you get all feisty like this. It’s the perfect combination of cute and sexy. It makes me want to do bad things with you” Malakai kissed the corner of your mouth, instantly making you whine “Stop it!” in return.

The low chuckle rumbling in his chest, and the mischief playing in his eyes were making it hard for you to stay mad at him for ghosting you again.

“But you don’t want me to stop” He murmured against your lips “Because you love me”, a sinister smirk danced across his lips.

You mumbled a quick “Shut up” before he smiled, “Am I lying though?” He asked with sincerity.

“I don’t enjoy you rubbing in my face the fact that I’m a dumb bitch for loving you”

“C’mon, you know that’s not what I meant” Sarcasm dripped from every word as he closed his arms around your waist.

“Why do you enjoy making fun of me so much? Just because I’m not a heartless piece of shit like you doesn’t mean that my feelings or my heart deserves to be used as your jester”

“Heartless piece of shit? Ouch, that one hurt” Malakai cackled, his hands now rested on top of your ass, and his fingers began to knead the meaty flesh of your backside. “And who says I don’t love you?” His sharp teeth tugged on your bottom lip, pulling it down until the soft skin escaped from his grip “I do love you, sugarplum…in my own way”.

“I fucking hate your way of loving”

Malakai’s lips captured yours in a famished kiss, enabling you from speaking anything else. His hands traveled through your curves, squeezing, kneading, and scratching every part of your body. He pulled back and allowed you to catch some breath before he repeated the same previous steps.

“You don’t say that when I make you scream all night long though” He murmured teasingly against your wet, swollen lips.

“I’m not playing, Malakai!”

With an annoyed sigh, Malakai held your face in his hand. “Fine! What the fuck do you want then? Do you want me to tell you all about my work life so you and your family can be targeted by my enemies, is that what you want?”

“I just want you to stop ghosting me every time you have to leave for a job, damn it! Is that too much to ask for, asshole?!”

“If I do that I’ll automatically put you in danger, you dumb bitch!”

Before you could process everything, your hand connected to his face, the harsh slapping sound was soon replaced by another one when Malakai’s fingers landed on your cheek. Time seemed to stop as you both stared in disbelief at each other, the surprise gave place to a much more primal feeling that caused Malakai to harshly kiss you again.

“I just want to know that you’re still alive” You murmured against his lips when he broke the kiss.

“I’m not gonna die, sugarplum”

“Yeah, so say everyone, until they get shot in the face!” You stomp your feet against the hardwood floor, making Malakai chuckle:

“Alright, woman! Goddamn it, I cannot believe you’re making me say this” He murmured to himself before he nodded, “Okay, from now on I’ll let you know that I’m alive when I’m on a job, but” He added emphasis on the ‘but’ to prevent your winning grin from becoming to wide, “It’ll be on my terms! We’ll both get a burner phone and I’ll occasionally let you know I’m fine, but we're not gonna be all lovey-dovey and shit with it! Don’t call me, I’ll call you. If you try to contact me I’ll not answer you, I’ll get rid of the goddamn phone, and we’ll never do this again, do you understand me?”

“Yes” Your smile was wide and victorious, making Malakai mumble “I already regret agreeing to this”.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down to meet you halfway for a kiss “Thank you, baby” You whispered against his coffee-flavored lips.

“So now we’re back to ‘baby’, huh?” He pinched your ass with a teasing smirk.

You let your fingers trace the tattoo on the side of his head as you smiled pridefully “Just because you decided to stop being a jerk”

“Let’s see if you’ll still think I’m a jerk after I put you in your place” Malakai’s grunt was playful as he squeezed the sides of your neck.

Your eyes fluttered closed for a few seconds, enjoying the feeling of his warm hand around your neck. You leaned forward, breathing against his parted lips “I’d like to see you try, pretty thing”.

And that was enough for him to push all the contents on top of the kitchen island down on the floor before roughly pushing you face down against the cold granite.

[nekodere07]

I broke the code Pt. 1

This was I've been up to during August, writing 2 fics for Fic Fight s3 and this was one of them :D

AO3 link to the fic!

Kill itttttttt

BLOOD

Kill it with fire!!

Joel boosts himself forward with the toes of his feet planted firmly onto the ground, propelling himself towards the running boar three times his size before delivering the killing blow. He skids into a stop, catching his breath whilst resting his hands on his quivering knees.

“This should be enough for our dinner tonight.” Joel mumbles approvingly.

Eyooooo

Wooooooooo

!! !! !! !!

That looks delicious!!!!!1!!!11

😋😋😋

“How on earth did you do that face thing?” Joel gapes in confusion. “It's physically impossible to project an image through vocal cords.”

what do you mean? you just press 😋

my first time watching you hunt

Welcome!!

just say 😋😋😋

o/

o/

o/

😋😋😋

can you share a bit for us??

happy to be here!!!!!!!!1!1!!1!1111

blood

my mouth is watering now i wanna eat some meat

What did I miss?

i have chicken nuggies

Can I have some? 👉👈

sure!!

😆😆😆😆😆

guys we just blown his mind

Look who's short circuiting

L

L

cant imagine what that feels like

More nonsensical comments are echoing inside his mind, making him less interested the worse it gets. This is why he hates listening to them at times.

“You know what? I don't even wanna know.” Joel rolls his eyes as he grabs the boar's leg and drags it along the soil without issue.

The sky gradually darkens, but his vision is still as vivid as ever, traversing through the trees effortlessly apart from a few bumps that keep getting the dragged corpse stuck. Noticing the dim light from afar, he picks up his pace and arrives at his destination.

“Yo, Grian! Look what I found.” Joel calls with a wave of his free hand.

The blonde in question turns around, jumping in surprise whilst caressing his chest not long after.

“How in the thickest Sunday gravy did you kill one that big?” Grian furrows his brows as he approaches.

say what?

We made ridiculous comments in our lifetime but that one takes the cake

Ikr

I couldnt agree more

give grian the trophy he deserves

“If it wasn't clear yet, I'm very strong and handsome and humble.” Joel smirks and states the obvious. “You're welcome.”

“Uh, huh.” Grian deadpans, kneeling down beside the boar as he pulls out a knife and begins to peel off the skin with swift movements.

Joel leaves his friend's side to beeline towards the bonfire, picking up a few branches beside it before dumping them into the fire, reigniting it once more. Sitting on one of the chopped logs laying on the dry soil, he cracks his joints and sighs in relief. He pulls out his sword from his waist before digging his hand into his bag from amongst their stuff for a cloth.

“Where is everybody, anyway?” Joel questions absentmindedly. “I know most of us don't have issues seeing in the dark, but dangerous creatures do lurk this early into the night. It doesn't hurt to stay vigilant.”

“Er… If I remember correctly, Impulse visited a nearby cave to mine a few resources.” Grian's voice replies casually. “Etho, on the other hand, is currently resting in the wagon. In which, you should be doing as well instead of hunting down a boar three times your size.”

Joel groans and rolls his eyes, “Why are you gonna be on my case again?” He yells as he slams the stained cloth to the side. “I already told you that I'm fine.” He grits his teeth.

oooh

Someone's in denial

lolol

“Dude, you've been awake for three days straight.” Grian points out. “Don't think I didn't notice how you've been slipping off to go somewhere in the middle of the night.”

Joel jolts violently at the last comment, clenching on the hilt of his sword as hard as possible.

How did he—

“I don't know what you're talking about, Grian. I slept like a log.” Joel comments nonchalantly. “You were probably dreaming or something. I think you're the one who needs that rest.”

He can hear Grian dragging a sigh from behind, ignoring it as he grabs his whetstone with a cold hand.

“Just… rest, alright?” Grian advises with an even voice, but the way he's pausing makes him sound more like he's pleading. “It may not look like it, but we care about you.”

“I will.” Joel lies.

AO3 link to the fic!

[paigelts05]

FNAF, Renegade AU - Mechanics voulenteerie stick around

https://www.deviantart.com/paigelts05/art/FNAF-Mechanics-voulenteerie-stick-around-863941650

Published: Dec 13, 2020

Renegade File Server Location: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23843413

voulenteerie is a pun on voulentary and eerie. Its been ages since I've drawn my main FNAF OC, PT, and it's about time I drew her again. Deciding on a background for the drawing took forever, but it turned out really well aside from the part where my grey colouring pencil decided that it hated me and went and made the background rather scratchy in some places. Other than that, it turned out ok. Also, as I wanted to make the background more detailed, I decided that I would add some 'childrens drawings' similar to what you'd see in the games. One of these is a reference to another drawing of mine that I posted a while back. Whilst I did start this drawing in late August, I actually finished it mid September. The thing that has been taking so long has been writing a story to go with it. It took a while to figure out a fitting storyline and write something, not to mention that I'm pretty busy these days, so having the time to work on the story has been pretty rare. Given that PT designated herself as the team bodyguard, I decided to have the story lean into that. °*•:•*•.•*•:•*°*•:•*•.•*•:•*°*•:•*•.•*•:•*° °•.🌹 Story 🌹.•°

=°•.🌹.•°= 'With the amount of times a kid had seen backstage, or wandered off into the office, I'm surprised they aren't freaked out by the animatronics. Well, a lot of them seem to know they're animatronics, but what part of a the big strong lady singlehandedly lifting an animatronic that was currently being controlled by a ghost - in the middle of the day - isn't scary?' "The part where they think it's part of the show?" PT shot up and stared at the tiny ginger engineer who had spoken to her. "What?" Fritz said in response to his colleague and friend's stare, "were ya just thinking out loud?" "I was thinkin in my 'ead. Can you read my mind?" "Nope. Pretty sure ya were speaking out loud," Fritz packed his tools up as he spoke, "so, where's Krass? He was supposed to meet us." "Getting nagged by Gerald, probably," PT huffed, looking at the drawings on the walls of the corridors, several of them depicting disturbing incidents. Incidents, that in a just world, wouldn't exist, let alone exist so frequently that children get to see them at a restaurant of all things. Upon seeing a drawing of a yellow bear shaped blob towering over a red splotch, her grip tightened on her axe, "being able to suplex circus baby means shit all against something that doesn't even always have a physical form." She looked back over at Fritz, whose orange jacket was stained black and brown with motor oil: their casual clothes a stark reminder that they were here off their own backs tonight for reasons other than honest work. "So," she begun to walk towards their next point of interest: pirates cove, "are we going to say or do anything about the door still?" "Nah. Freddy did it some time after you left for the night the other day." "That's your story?" "And it's true. I'm stickin' to it." "I know, I'm just messing with you." The cove was as grim as ever. The curtains stained with a grotesque mix of pizza, motor oil, vomit, and blood. The part that touched the ground was the worst affected, so with a pair of scissors, PT sliced the manky part of the curtain off before placing it in a carrier bag. "If the janitors were actually paid to clean this damn thing, it wouldn't fall to me to do this. Hopefully this place will shut before the curtains have to be replaced. And just for that, this scrap is going to the cops instead of the incinerator." "Obvious much, but what'd they want with a scrap of mouldy fabric?" Fritz asked, trying not to puke. "See who the blood belongs to." PT replied, looking a bit green in the face herself as she tossed the bag onto a nearby table before climbing up onto the stage. Even though it was the middle of the night and the animatronics were active, Foxy slinked to the back of the cove. PT had won several fights against the animatronics before, and would not hesitate to throw hands again, and as a result, the animatronics respected her out of fear. The only animatronic who didn't have this fear instilled in them was the one who was the root of all her recent problems: Golden Freddy. "One word to your brother and I'll tear your ears off." PT growled as she begun to lift a hatch up that was in the stage. Inside the hatch was an old dusty control room: a relic of the days where the animatronics legs served little to no function and all their actions were governed by a person. This location had those rooms built, but by the time the place had opened under its original name back in the 80's, the rooms were already obsolete, and by the time the 90's rolled around and the location was rebranded to the most recent smaller scale Freddy's restaurant type, these rooms were more secret than the rooms that were actually supposed to be a secret. Upon picking up some rather dusty papers and tools, she clambered out the control room and got to work on the stages actual control panel - the one above ground at the back of the stage. Sparks flew through Foxy as she messed about with the box, fixing wires and resetting dials. PT's rubber soles shoes prevented her from getting electrocuted, but the robotic fox didn't have that luxury. Once she was done, she reset the clock on the panel to the correct time before closing and locking the panel's casing. "So, that's the control panel in the cove fixed. This one shouldn't activate during that day any time soon. What else was sus," she said as she batted the dust off herself and pocketed the items she had taken out of the control room. "Recover kitchen footage." Fritz said, reading off a list he had stored in his pocket. "Right," PT said as she picked up the bag containing the gross fabric. "Let's take the long way through the office. If that kid's picking on Krasnyy again I'll give him something to cry about." The two then walked down the corridor and came to the office, where they found Krasnyy in his security guard uniform looking rather exhausted. "You ok?" PT asked, to which Krasnyy replied with a nod and a weak thumbs up. "Is that a yes? You seem knackered." Krasnyy replied with an awkward silence before pointing at the tablet - probably the most advanced bit of tech in the building and it was crudely wired up to a plethora of cameras that were aincient in comparison - and taking a deep breath. "Show up on cameras. Drain energy. Speaking hurts." Krasnyy sometimes knew how to get a point across in the fewest words possible and today was one of those days, so both PT and Fritz knew that Gerald (Golden Freddy according to himself and the other animatronics) had been showing up in the cameras, and tormenting Krasnyy by somehow draining his energy. A pang of rage coursed through PT's mind; she wasn't sure if it was Blake's thoughts or her own, but she loathed Golden Freddy. It's mere existence with mostly taking a non-physical form was counterplay to what made her a good defender to her friends, and the fact that there was little she could do about the brat was truly enraging. It may have been a child, but that monster wasn't a child anymore, and hadn't been for years. "If he shows up again, shriek, and I'll come running and see what I can do," she said, wanting to stay calm. With the current people in the building being herself, Krasnyy, and Fritz, she was the most level headed one of the trio, so if she wasn't calm, there would be no-one left to be calm, "we're just going to the kitchen. We're going to see what we can recover from the camera. We'll be back soon." Krasnyy nodded, and PT nodded back before leaving the office through the east doorway and heading up to the kitchen. The two of them stayed quiet, listening out for any animatronics, or any signs of activity from Golden Freddy. Making it to the kitchen without incident, they located the camera. "Shattered," PT huffed, looking at the camera whose peices were strewn across the floor, "Looks like I'll be fitting a replacement. Wonder why the bastards hate this camera so much." Upon examining the remains of the camera for himself, Fritz grabbed a handfull of things that looked like solid state devices and circuit boards and shoved them into his bag. "I'll recover the footage when I get 'ome. No point in tryin'a do this in near zero light while being stalked by robots. That's just askin' for bad news." "Talking about news, I want to see if Krasnyy's ok before we set off. The camera was the last thing on the list, and it's nearing six anyway." As the two of them went to leave the kitchen, they found that the door had locked somehow, dispite the door not having a lock. "How? Like, seriously? What is this?" PT said as she repeatedly tried to barge the door open. Fritz, on the other hand, was getting flashbacks to watching Freddy tear the parts and services door off its hinges. Behind them, a child's laugh rang through the kitchen. Both of them ignored it and kept looking at the door. The laugh rang out again, louder, and somehow sounding more exasperated than a laugh should be able to sound. Again, they ignored it, and soon after the second laugh ended, the door gave way. Back on track to the office, PT remarked, "I was just copying you there - ignoring it. I would have propper thrown hands if I was on my own, but I guess you know how to deal with that thing better than I do." "Having to learn fast does have its perks," Fritz replied as they stepped back into the office, and Krasnyy looked awfully glad to see them. "So, did he silence you again?" PT asked, feeling like she kind of knew what was up. "Yep. Knew you were here." Krasnyy seemed almost disappointed in himself, dispite there being no damage and nothing he could have done. With a reassuring smile, PT responded "Well that really sucks. At least we've got what we've came for. The boss never shows up until half past, so we'll stay with you until six. The buildings power puts a dampener on that kid, so whilst you already know he's going to stalk the shit out of you, he can't hurt you outside of night shift hours." "Surprised you remembered," Krasnyy smiled back. And in what felt like a fast few minutes, the night was over. Day staff rolled in, and PT and Fritz left the building in plain sight, going completely unquestioned by their colleagues. Upon handing the relics from the old control room and the bag of gross fabric over to Mike, they finally breathed a sigh of relief. =°•.🌹.•°= °*•:•*•.•*•:•*°*•:•*•.•*•:•*°*•:•*•.•*•:•*°

[rocorambles]

Mission: Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou

Pair: Kuroo x Reader

Genre: NSFW, Slight Angst, Fluff, Porn With Plot

Warnings: Degradation, Master/Pet Dynamics, Sex Toys, Overstimulation, Cum Play, Nipple Play

Prompt: "Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

Summary: You really should have just spoken to Kuroo about your insecurities instead of letting everything spiral out of control. But that’s okay, your husband is more than happy to thoroughly remind you that you’re the only woman he’ll ever want.  

Author’s Note: This is my contribution for my HQ Discord Server’s NSFW collaboration. There are so many talented writers on the server and I highly encourage you to check out the collaboration masterlist here to see how everyone decided to run with this spicy prompt. (Masterlist goes live Monday 31st August 11:30pm U.K. time!) 

You stretch your arms over your head as a big yawn rumbles throughout your entire body. It’s too early for any sane person to be up, even the sun is barely creeping in through the windows of your apartment, but your husband has hardly been sane recently with the crazy amount of hours he’s been pouring into work. You’re lucky that you even woke up before he left and you smile as you hear your overgrown house cat rustle around your bathroom and bedroom, getting ready for the day. 

“Tetsurou, hurry up so you have time to eat at least a little breakfast before you head out! You’ve been skipping it too much recently. You wouldn’t want me to leave you for one of those pro-athletes you work so closely with when you become just stick and bones, would you?” 

You bite back a laugh when your husband’s messy bed hair peeks out from around the corner and hazel eyes narrow at you, but you’re not laughing when he finally saunters over to you in his suit and traps you against the kitchen counter between his long arms, leaning in so close your noses are brushing and just when you relax and close your eyes, waiting for him to kiss you, you rapidly blink your eyes open as he gives you a quick light peck before ambling off to pour himself a cup of the green tea you’d brewed. With a pout, you warm up the rice balls you’d bought last night and place them on the dining table, wrinkling your nose in displeasure at the smirk on Kuroo’s face, but it’s all forgotten as the two of you lightly chat over breakfast, Kuroo’s long legs spreading into your space across the table, your calves gently rubbing against each other as you laugh and eat. But all too soon it’s time for him to go and he gives you another loving peck before racing out the door and with a sigh, you wash the dishes before getting ready to leave for work yourself.

You love Kuroo with all your heart. Your feelings for him have only gotten stronger over the years and even after tying the knot with him, you can’t help the way your heart flutters and warmth fills your chest whenever the two of you lock eyes. But when your mind replays the teasing scene from this morning, your thighs clench and you bite your lips. Kuroo’s always been a tease and you love it as much as you hate it. No one knows how to rile you up like he does and he uses that to his advantage, rendering you a desperate, needy mess before finally making good on all his dirty promises. But lately, he hasn’t been following through. You can’t even remember the last time you’d done anything more than heatedly make out. 

At first, you had tried to be patient. You know far too well exactly why he hasn’t been in the mood recently. It’s so obvious to you. It’s obvious in the ever growing and darkening circles underneath his eyes. It’s obvious in the way he can barely stay awake when you do manage to spend some time together when he comes back home from work. It’s obvious in the way he immediately passes out as soon as his head hits the pillow. Hell, even his messy bed hair that usually defies gravity seems to slump more and more with every passing day. He’s exhausted. You’ve always loved how dedicated and hardworking Kuroo is. It’s one of the many reasons you’d fallen for him and you know how important his job is to him, but you wonder if it’s time to intervene as you watch your husband walk around your shared apartment like a zombie. Also, more selfishly, you have needs and it’s been months since you’ve been stuffed full by him and really, this is all Kuroo’s fault for training your body to constantly yearn for him after all the years he spent pleasuring you over and over again. With a determined glint in your eyes, you begin to scheme. Let Mission Seduce Kuroo Tetsurou begin.

You scan yourself in the mirror pleased with how you look in a strappy lingerie set you know drives Kuroo crazy. It’s a delicate and intricate creation of lace and ribbons that barely covers you, only accentuating the curves of your figure, but you know it’s the one strip of ribbon that travels in a single bold line between your breasts and leads up to a delicate lacy red collar wrapped around your neck that will specifically catch Kuroo’s eyes. Checking the time, you excitedly perch yourself on the bed, positioning yourself seductively, candles flickering and enhancing the mood as you wait for him, but a hour passes and you unwillingly succumb to sleep, ignorant of the way your phone buzzes with an apologetic text from Kuroo, letting you know he’d be home even later than usual. Blearily you open your eyes and wince as daylight sears your vision. Wait...daylight? You scramble to sit up and check your surroundings and your shoulders sag in frustration when you find yourself still in your lingerie set, but carefully tucked into bed, blankets wrapped around your body, Kuroo’s side of the bed empty and cold. You reach over to look at your phone, getting up to get dressed for work, when you see a new text from your husband. 

Sorry, kitten. You must have been waiting a long time for me last night. You looked absolutely beautiful. Look! I even took some pictures so I could remember. But maybe next time try not to fall asleep while the candles are still lit ^.^  

Your face heats up at the lewd pictures he’d taken of you while you were fast asleep and your heart warms at his compliment, but you stubbornly shake your head. There’s no time to be distracted. You’re still a woman on a mission. 

Attempt two takes place that weekend and you watch your husband from the shadows, lurking behind him before finally pouncing on him as he sits at his desk, answering a work phone call. You saucily wink at him as you saunter into his view and you smirk at the way he clears his throat and gulps at the sight of you dressed in nothing but his old Nekoma jersey and black thigh highs. And when you sink to your knees and arch your back just so, you almost snicker at the way he hisses when his jersey rides up and your bare ass is displayed. But he collects himself enough to firmly, but gently shove you away from him as you try to pull his boxers down and despite a few more attempts on your end, you instantly stop when he puts his phone on mute and sternly says your full name. 

But Kuroo’s always been weak against your puppy dog eyes and with a slight roll of his eyes, he beckons you to sit on his bare thigh and as he calmly and professionally continues his call, you heavily pant with your tongue lolling out, drool dripping from your mouth as you grind against his strong muscles like a bitch in heat, smearing your arousal everywhere until you’re almost sliding back and forth against the taut surface. And as he clenches his muscles and digs his leg further up into you, your body convulses and he barely has time to end the call before you loudly moan as you ride out your orgasm. He whispers filthy praises into your ear about what a good slut you are, what a desperate pet you are, what a mess you’ve made all over master’s leg, but when you finally exhaustedly slump onto his chest, he peppers butterfly kisses all over your face and holds you for a few minutes before carrying you to the bathroom and washing both of you off despite your protests that you still want to play more. 

He at least has the decency to apologetically kiss you for ending things so abruptly as he throws on slacks and a button-up before rushing off to work to take care of the emergency he had just been on a call about despite the fact that it’s a weekend, but you can’t help the growing insecurity that begins to eat at you as you spend the rest of that Saturday alone. Were you not as attractive as you used to be? Was Kuroo getting tired of you? Why does it feel like you’re trying so hard to get his attention? Does touching you feel like just a husbandly duty for him now? Thought after crippling thought sears through you and you have to hold back the tears that threaten to spill when Kuroo returns late that night and, thinking you’re already asleep, turns on his side with his back facing towards you and instantly falls asleep.        

You muster what little resolve you have left with the last few scraps of your self-confidence for a final attempt. Raking through your mind for memories of what would hopefully bring some passion back between the two of you, you perk up as your eyes scan a black box crammed underneath the bed. Kuroo hates it when you masturbate, when you touch yourself, when you make yourself cum without him being physically present or at least on a call with you to hear all the pretty sounds you make. Surely this would be enough to finally have him fuck you senseless like he always used to. But when you purposefully time everything so that Kuroo enters your bedroom and finds you stuffed full with your favorite dildo, a wand vibrator pressed against your clit, and your back arched as broken cries fill the room, he just gives you a tired smile and sits on the edge of the bed before helping you by thrusting the dildo in and out of your gushing cunt. And it feels so good, but when you see how dull and lifeless Kuroo’s sleep deprived eyes look despite the fact that you’re laid out in an erotic display of lust, you can’t stop the sobs you let out as you climax. 

Thinking you’re just crying from the overwhelming pleasure and too tired to dig further into it, Kuroo absentmindedly tosses the toys to the side and cradles you in his arms as he falls asleep, finding comfort in your familiar scent and figure, ignorant of the way your body continues to tremble as you cry yourself to sleep. And as you try to keep your sobs and sniffles as quiet as possible, you decide to abort this mission, deeming it a complete and utter failure and you struggle to fall asleep that night as self-deprecating thoughts claw at your insides. Of course Kuroo didn’t find you sexy anymore. Your body has changed a lot since your younger days. You should be grateful that you still have a loving husband, a husband who works tirelessly to help provide for the two of you, a husband who always takes care of you, a loyal and devoted husband. And despite the longing pang for something more, something primal, for your base desires to be filled, you tentatively turn in Kuroo’s arms until you're face to face and you nuzzle into his toned chest and finally find peace in the rhythmic rise and fall of his sleeping figure. 

Life goes on normally after that. At least for Kuroo. He's too distracted and exhausted to notice the way your smiles are a little more forced, the way you're more hesitant about touching him, the way you wear more clothes to cover your body as self-consciousness plagues your mind. So it's just business as usual for him to excitedly tell you about the Japan Volleyball Association's annual summer beach party, but he blinks in confusion when you don't return his enthusiasm, mumbling a feeble excuse about not having a swimsuit for the occasion. Brows furrowed, he digs through the drawers of your wardrobe and triumphantly holds up a black bikini set you still have, waving aside your worries that it won't fit and that it won't look good on you anymore and that's how you find yourself a few weeks later, exiting Kuroo's car and walking side by side with him in said bikini, feeling like an ugly troll next to your stunning husband whose lean and toned muscles are on full display with him just sporting a red pair of swim trunks. 

But your insecurities are pushed aside as a loud "hey, hey, hey" echoes even over the sound of the waves crashing on the beach and you can't help but grin as Bokuto runs over slapping Kuroo hard enough on the back to leave a red mark before picking you up and spinning you around as he hugs you. "Alright, that's enough, stop manhandling my wife, you big dumb owl!" Kuroo pretends to grumble at the two of you, but you can tell by the amused glint in his eyes as Bokuto finally lets you go and the reassuring hand he places on your lower back as the three of you mingle with everyone else that he doesn't really mind. But as soon as you reach the thickest part of the crowd, Kuroo quickly kisses your forehead before running off to network with some players and coworkers, leaving you alone with Bokuto. 

The two of you have fun. Bokuto has always been the life of the party and you laugh the hardest you've laughed in a long time. But many drinks later and unable to keep up with his crazy stamina, you excuse yourself and find a quiet corner, drinking a glass of cold water to cool down and sober up a bit. It's been hours and you still haven't seen Kuroo since he separated from you and you're so focused scanning the venue for him that you don't notice the person drawing near you until you feel movement right next to you. Surprised you turn around and are met with a vaguely familiar face. Blond dyed hair. An ever present smirk. You don't realize how long you've been staring, trying to remember where you recognize him from, until he snorts and waves a hand in your face. "I know I'm good looking, but don't you think it's a little rude to just stare at me silently?" 

You try to stutter out an apology as you finally come back to your senses, but he laughs it off and introduces himself. Atsumu. Yes, now you recognize him. Bokuto's teammate. You've seen tons of pictures of him on Bokuto's social media accounts. He's a little rough around the edges and you can feel your face heat up as he blatantly looks you up and down, eyes lingering a bit too long on the swell of your breasts, but you can feel your confidence growing, feeling truly desired for the first time in months. What's the harm in a little flirting? 

The two of you banter back and forth and maybe it's the heat of the sun mixed with the alcohol still running through your veins, but you don't notice the way Atsumu inches closer to you until your thighs are pressed tightly against each other or the way he rests one arm behind you, slyly pressing it against your upper back. And you definitely don't notice how he suddenly swoops in to crash his lips against yours and you move to shove him away from you only to be interrupted by a flurry of motions and you stare in shock at Atsumu sprawled out on the ground and your husband furiously glaring down at him, fists clenched so hard his knuckles are turning white. 

You react just in time to lunge at Kuroo and you tightly wrap your arms around his tense figure as he takes a step towards the blonde setter, holding him still as realization finally dawns on Atsumu when he spots your matching wedding bands and he scampers off with a rushed apology. But even when he’s long gone and nowhere in sight, you still clutch your husband, not letting go until you feel his muscles relax. You let him shake you off as he turns around to tower over you and you whimper at the fire burning in his eyes, hazel eyes almost glowing as they pin you down. You’re thankful for the loud music and lively atmosphere, ensuring no one’s paying any attention to the two of you as he tightly grips your chin and forces you to maintain eye contact. 

“Someone’s been a naughty kitten. I leave you alone for a few hours and you let some other man just place their dirty paws all over you? Let them taste your pretty little mouth? If I hadn’t stopped him, would you have let him fuck your tight cunt too? Mark you up inside and out?” 

You hate the way you grow wet at his words, trembling when Kuroo notices your growing arousal and narrows his eyes in disdain. But it’s the brief flicker of hurt in his eyes that finally has you digging your hands into his waist as denial and reassurances come pouring out of your mouth. 

“Tetsurou, I had no idea he was going to kiss me. It happened so fast. I’m so sorry. Of course I would have stopped him if you hadn’t stepped in! I love you. I only want you.” 

You stare intently into his eyes, trying to portray all your love for him through your gaze and you sigh in relief when his eyes soften at your words, but your breath catches in your throat when his eyes sharpen into a familiar gleam and a dark smirk curves onto his lips. He finally releases your chin and leans down until his hair brushes against the side of your face as he purrs into your ear. 

“Prove it to me.” 

Kuroo has a reputation to uphold and, not wanting to risk anyone seeing what’s about to happen, he grabs your hand and guides you through the dancing crowd, laughing and greeting a few tipsy faces he recognizes in passing, but not once does he stop leading you towards the exit and you’re quivering in anticipation by the time the two of you reach the parking lot and he roughly shoves you into the back of his car. The door has barely closed before he pulls your bottoms down, not even bothering to fully remove them as he also hastily shoves his boxers down just enough for his cock to swing out. And you almost moan at just the sight of what you’ve been lusting for all these months, a small part of you taking pride in the fact that he’s not as unaffected as he makes himself seem behind his angry facade as you unconsciously lick your lips at the sight of his already fully hard length. 

You attempt to sit up and move towards him, desperate for a taste of the pre-cum leaking out of his tip, but you yelp when you’re shoved back down by a hand on your chest and you whine, only for that to quickly turn into a wail as Kuroo slams two of his fingers inside of your throbbing cunt. He growls as he rapidly pistons his digits in and out of you and you should be embarrassed by the way your cries of ecstasy and the sound of your squelching wet pussy fill the car, but you can’t bring yourself to feel any shame as you lose yourself to the delirious pleasure of your husband’s long fingers filling you, stretching you, always sure to rub against that spongy spot inside of you that makes you see stars. But when your hand instinctively reaches down to rub your clit, you’re startled back to reality when it’s slapped away and his fingers are yanked out of you. 

He sneers down at you, a wicked smile twisting his face as he shoves his drenched fingers into your mouth and you obediently suck, making sure to clean every remaining drop of yourself that coats his skin. Satisfied, he finally removes his hand from your mouth and he quirks an eyebrow in amusement as you beg and plead for him to fuck you.

“Tetsurou, please. I need your cock inside of me. Please, I want it so badly. Please fuck me. Please please please. I miss it so much.” 

He mockingly coos down at you as desperate tears well in the corner of your eyes. “Aww is my little kitten crying for my cock? You’re such a fucking whore. You want my big fat cock inside of you so badly that you’d cry and beg for it like a desperate slut? You sure it’s my cock that you miss? I think you’d be happy with any cock fucking you. You’d let anyone stuff you full and moan like a whore, wouldn’t you?” 

And the tears finally fall as you sob and shake your head rapidly. “Only you, Tetsurou. Always only you. Please please please.” You’re still crying and incoherently babbling as he slams his entire shaft inside of you in one swift motion and Kuroo darkly smiles at the way your crying instantly turns to wanton moans at the sudden intrusion. But it’s been far too long since either of you have done this and both of you are so worked up that he knows he doesn’t have much time before you both reach your ends. And sure enough after just a few strokes he can feel your body begin to tighten and he grits his teeth at the sight of your eyes rolling into the back of your head, your head shaking back and forth, and your mouth wide open. But even as dazed as you are, when you feel the way your husband’s thrusts become uneven, you try to voice as much reason as you possibly can, fully aware of your husband’s tendency to paint your body with his fluids. 

“Tetsu-Tetsurou AH- Feels so good. Hngh D-don’t cum on me. Don’t have anything to- AHHH clean it up with and- OH we need to go back to the party.”

Kuroo grunts in displeasure at your words, but he knows you’re right and as much as he loves to see you covered in thick spurts of white, the thought of anyone else seeing that incites rage in him. You get ready for him to pull out and cum down your throat like you always do when you mess around in similarly inconvenient places, ready to swallow down any evidence of your sinful deeds, but you scream when his thrusts get even harder and faster. 

"Guess I'll just have to cum inside you."

And those words are the final shove you need to fall over the peak and Kuroo follows shortly after you as your pussy walls clench and milk his cock. He stays buried inside of you for a few more moments, wanting your tight walls to soak up as much of him as possible, but when he slides out of you, he quickly pulls your bottoms up, not letting a single drop escape, and you whimper as he purposefully tugs them up just a tad too tightly, teasingly wedging the fabric between your folds before finally having some mercy and letting you rearrange them. He opens the car door and steps out first, offering a hand down towards you and you grab it, gingerly standing up only to be pulled swiftly towards him and you stumble into his chest. But before you can fully find your balance, a large hand tugs your hair until you’re forced to stare up into cat-like eyes. 

“I want you to keep my cum inside of you for the rest of the party. I’m not anywhere near done with your punishment. I’ll be checking at home tonight to see if your pretty little pussy is still painted white.”       

The rest of the party is torturous. Kuroo doesn't let you step even a foot away from him as he continues mingling with the crowd and in any other scenario you'd love the attention he showers you with as he affectionately introduces you to countless faces, but not today. Not with your pussy desperately clenching in order not to spill a single drop of the white liquid coating your insides. Not with your touch starved body only yearning for more after getting a taste of what you've wanted all these months. And Kuroo only makes things worse with his subtle teasing. 

You know better than to think any of his touches are accidental or innocent and your body is so in tune with his that it reacts to every single bit of contact he dishes out. His arm grazes over your nipples as he reaches over to grab a drink. He leads you with a hand that just happens to slip from your lower back and land squarely on your ass. He wipes your mouth for you, claiming you have a piece of food on the corner of your mouth, but that doesn't really explain why his fingers briefly slip past your lips. But all hell breaks loose when he reapplies your sunscreen for you and his hands blatantly slip under your bikini set, teasingly close to where you want him most, but always just missing your clit and nipples and when he reaches your neck, a moan escapes you at the feeling of his hand subtly wrapping and tightening around your throat. 

"Tetsurou, stop teasing me! Can we go home? Please take me home. I need you inside of me again. I want you to ruin me." 

Kuroo's the one who's turned you into a needy slutty mess, but it's his turn to feel flushed at the sight of you lewdly begging him to do whatever he wants to you in broad daylight, in front of hundreds of people and finally losing his self-control, he brusquely grabs your hand and once again the two of you are leaving, but this time for good. The car ride is silent, the atmosphere thick and tense between the two of you as you clench your thighs together and Kuroo tries to ignore the growing bulge in his shorts. It's silent as both of you enter your apartment and Kuroo seats himself on your couch. But you break once you close and lock the front door and Kuroo impassively stares at you as you drop to your knees in front of him and beg him to fuck you again. You know you're barely making any sense, fueled only by your cock hungry thoughts, but you pause when Kuroo raises a hand to silence you. 

"Let's see if you were able to follow the one rule I gave you today, kitten." 

Eagerly you nod your head and you raise yourself on your knees, spreading your thighs apart before pulling your bikini bottom to the side and you think you could cum right there and then just from the way Kuroo unabashedly stares at the white trail dripping down your inner thigh as he pushes down his shorts enough to languidly stroke his cock. 

"Good girl. Did you like being my little cum bucket today? Did you like being filled by me? Bet if it were possible, you'd always want your little cunny to be drenched in my cum, right? Come sit on master's lap." 

Kuroo chuckles at the way you clumsily stumble in your haste to reach him as you blather affirmation after affirmation in response to his questions and he lowers his head to affectionately kiss you, lightly nipping your lower lip before he pulls back. He moves one hand to his cock to angle it as his other hand grabs your waist and urges you to move, but you hardly need any encouragement and you both groan as you sink down on his length until you're completely bottomed out and sitting in his lap once again. Immediately you try to bounce, but you whine when strong hands hold you still and you can feel tears of frustration forming as you pout at your husband's smirk. But any annoyance is forgotten when his hands fondle and pinch your nipples through the fabric of your top. 

"Look at you. I've barely done anything and you're already so worked up. Stop moving! Just sit there and take what I give you." You yelp when he roughly pinches your nipples and you cease your attempts to ride him, but you can't help the way your hips roll and grind as he continues. 

"Your nipples are already so hard, kitten. Look how obvious they are even beneath your swimsuit. Were they like this all day? Is that why Atsumu couldn't take his eyes off you? You think every player there saw how slutty your nipples are? Realized what a horny desperate whore you are? I bet they all wanted to get a taste." 

You wail when Kuroo shoves the fabric aside and latches a mouth onto one of your sensitive nubs, while experly flicking and rolling the other between his fingers. He alternates between the two sides and your frazzled mind can barely keep up with his actions as he switches up the motions of his fingers and mouth. He pulls off briefly and sharply tugs at your nipples. "Think you can cum just from your nipples?" You try to deny it, pleading for him to at least rub your clit, but your protests are ignored and you gasp when he dives back down and harshly sucks at one of your puffy nubs. Kuroo knows your body even better than you do and he continues to stimulate your nipples even when you topple over into an orgasm that takes you by surprise and you tightly clench around his cock as your back arches and only when you weakly paw at him to stop does he release your nipple with a lewd pop. 

You playfully smack him when he teases you about what a slut you must be to be able to get off from just your nipples and you hide your face in his neck as he shamelessly thinks out loud about all the nipple clamps, suctions, and vibrators he can use on you to train you even more. But you raise your head in alarm when you feel yourself being repositioned, Kuroo's erect cock still inside of you as he lays you on your back and hovers over you. 

"Tetsurou, st-stop NGH TOO SOON!"

"What did you say, kitten? Sorry, it's hard to understand you when you're moaning like a whore. Weren't you begging for this all day? Shouldn't you be thanking me?"

Kuroo thrusts sharply into you with every word and you can't think of anything other than how well he fills you, how perfectly he fits inside the cunt he's molded and shaped for himself after years of using it, how amazing the drag of his cock against your insides is. You babble thank you, thank you, thank you mindlessly over and over again, incapable of doing anything else as your breasts bounce and your body writhes underneath him. And when his hips finally stutter and he furiously rubs your clit as he adds to the mess inside of you, you break apart once again, your mind going blank as you feel the warmth of his cum sloshing inside of you.

But exhaustion slams into you as you come down from your climax, exhaustion from your third orgasm, exhaustion from being teased all day and all the barriers you’d put up finally come crashing down and Kuroo stares in horror as you sob, nothing like the pleasure filled sobs he usually wrings out of you. No, these are heartbreaking anguished cries for help and he immediately answers the call by tightly clutching you to his chest, your lower bodies still connected as he murmurs words of praise and love into your ear. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, sweetheart? I love you. You know that, right? I love you more than anything or anyone else in this entire world. I’m so lucky to be your husband. You’re so good to me, so loving, so supportive, so loyal, so beautiful.” 

The last word catches your attention and with a sniffle you hesitantly remove your head from his torso and look at him through watery lashes. 

“You think I’m beautiful?” 

Kuroo flounders for a second, disbelief choking the words in his throat, unable to understand how you could think otherwise. But when he sees the insecurity and doubt flooding your eyes he gently cradles your face in his calloused hands. 

“Of course I do. You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met, inside and out.” 

Your heart flutters at the sincerity you see in his eyes and that’s all it takes for you to break down in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you tuck your head under his chin, and he silently listens as you reveal all the internal suffering you’d put yourself through over the past months as you let your anxiety and worry mix with your doubts and insecurities, letting them fester and ferment into a self-destructive time bomb. A slow-moving process he’d been too daft to notice, that you’d been too scared to talk to him about for his sake, not wanting to be a bother or another item he needed to check off his to-do list. And while you continue shyly speaking, tears stream down Kuroo’s face and his heart clenches at the thought of how long you’d quietly suffered, putting on a happy facade for him, taking care of his every want and need during the few hours of the week he was home and awake. 

Surprised to feel liquid drops plop down on your face, you quirk your head upwards and panic when you see your husband’s teary eyes and the two of you become a blubbering mess as you both try to wipe each other’s tears and soothe each other. It’s so silly to see two adults trying to out comfort each other that you accidentally snort at the strange image the two of you must make and there’s a slight pause, but then your laughter is joined by Kuroo’s trademark cackle and before you know it, the two of you are wrapped in each other’s arms, feeling the rumble of each other’s laughter through your connected bodies. 

Yes, there’ll be serious conversations later about being more open and transparent with each other when something’s troubling either one of you and discussions on how you can both work on your communication. You’ll jokingly complain that Kuroo is hovering over you too much for weeks after this breakdown as he practically scrutinizes you with those perceptive eyes of his, always making sure you’re really fine. And he’ll never give you any more opportunities to doubt how much he loves every part of you when you’re screaming his name on every surface of your home. But for now, feeling infinitely lighter with all your burdens finally shoved off your shoulders with the help of your husband, you’re content to close your eyes and relish in the warmth of the lean body pressed against you.     

[enyearns]

Sakata Gintoki: "Sorry I'm Not Good Enough."

In which you are no longer strong enough to fight the pain anymore.

✧ genre(s): angst ✧ warnings: none (o... also, some bad first aid skillz) ✧ 977 words, (approx.) 4 minute read

✧ established relationship!!

a/n: i haven't uploaded in a while... this is something i wrote at... uh... 13th of August lmao. hope you guys like it <3

“Man…” Gintoki let out a low hiss of discomfort, unconsciously recoiling away from your touch. Antiseptic. It’s the one thing that can make him hiss the way he is now. It stings like hell, and he hates it. “I don’t know if I would still be alive without you.”

“You wouldn’t.”

He’s slightly taken aback by your curt tone, his gaze snapping towards you to try and detect any traces of contempt or anger on your features. But you look the same as usual. Your face shows no indication of such-- only concentration was weaved into your delicate features as you focused on cleaning his new wounds.

With a rather forceful tug of his wounded arm, he shuts his eyes and winces again. You’re definitely upset at him. He lets out a huff from his nose, and lightly jests. “You hangry or something?”

You spare a stern gaze his way, obviously displeased. “No.”

“But you’re upset! Why?”

You stick a needle and thread into the deep cut without warning, successfully making him yelp. “Why don’t you go on and take a guess.”

Gin was about to open his mouth and answer – It’s because of these new cuts, isn’t it? – but he immediately choked back his words upon seeing his partner’s downcast eyes. It’s as clear as day to him now. You’re concentrating on not bursting out into tears. His body goes limp as a heavy sensation settles in his chest. Gin opts to shut his mouth and stare listlessly at the ceiling instead.

You’re unhappy because of me again.

A heavy silence blankets the room. Not a single word was exchanged, nor was a sound made except for his occasional grunts or the sound of you rustling through the medical kit.

By the time you’ve finished, most of Gintoki’s upper half was covered in bandages. His battle scars reduced to a dim throbbing, but the heaviness in his chest never eased.

“(y/n)-- I’m… I’m sorry.”

You turned your head away, lips quivering. “How many times have you apologised… only to come back to me with your life hanging by a thread?” Your voice barely comes out as a whisper, hands in your lap clenching into fists. “I don’t think you even know what you’re sorry for anymore, Gin.”

Your words soak into the crevices of his brain. His mouth opens, but no words come to him. Gin’s silence seems hurtful to you, and you look at him with disappointment. You break the eye contact and shake your head, readjusting your words. “Do you know that–”

Gin stares up at you, dreading the next few words that you’ll choke out.

“Do you know that a piece of my soul breaks every time you come home to me like this?”

The tremble in your voice sends his throat dry. “I… (y/n)--” he croaks out, reaching a hand out to you. It’s almost out of desperation.

But you move your hand out of his reach. “Don’t.” you whisper, voice barely above a whisper. He hears you swallow thickly, before drawing out a shaky breath. “Gin… I don’t think I can do this anymore.”

I don’t think I can do this anymore…

Your words ring and vibrate against the walls of his hollow mind. It echoes back to him, again, and again, his mind working against himself a loud, and relentless taunt.

You can’t do this anymore…

“Oh.”

Hurt flashes across your eyes. “Is that all, Gin?”

He can hear the desperation in the edges of your voice. Your quiet pleas thinly lace the curt words you’re trying to silently say. He so desperately wants to reach out to you– to hold you so tightly and somehow convey his feelings towards you. He wants to reassure you that he’ll be okay, that they’ll be okay. Heck, he wants to get on his knees and deeply grovel to you– he wants to kiss your feet and cry out his apologies.

But all those thoughts disappear when he lifts his eyes and locks with yours. He can’t bring himself to bring you comfort, or to go down onto his knees. His muscles do not move an inch. They twitch in indecisiveness, waiting out the internal battle he’s having against his desires. He’s paralysed stunned seeing your beautiful eyes glassy, filled to the brim with tears. Your usually smiling face is now twisted in unfiltered pain– undoubtedly pain that you have been suppressing for a long time. I am what’s caused your suffering.

His eyes widened at the thought. It’s intrusive, almost. But the realisation hits him harder than any blow he’s ever taken before.

It would be better for you to move on from me.

He feels his body go limp, and his vision fades out.

He feels defeat.

“I love you, (y/n).”

He’s not even sure if you’ve heard that. He can’t tell. He hears you sobbing, your choked breaths filling his ears. Again, that dense fog settles in his chest, and he finds himself short of breath, too.

“I love you too, Gin. More than you could ever imagine,” you cry out in between your sobs. “I’m sorry… I wish I wasn’t so selfish… I’m sorry I couldn’t be someone strong enough to be with someone as selfless as you.”

Gin lifts his arm, weakly caressing your soft, supple cheeks and drying out your tears. “I’m sorry…”

You melt into his calloused hand for the last time, before pulling away and standing. “I need to check up on the children.”

You stand there for a moment, teary eyes peering at him as if hoping he would say something. To plead for you to stay by his side. But he closes his eyes and pretends to be asleep, quietly pushing away the desire to ask for you back.

“Take care, always, Gin.”

[cap-winter-barnes]

What They Did To You (August Walker x Reader)

Mission Impossible: Fallout spoilers ahead (sort of)!!

A/N: This is an AU in which August comes home. I just had this idea of a really soft, loving, family-oriented August in my head and I absolutely fell in love with it.

Warnings: Like one swear word & mentions of injury

Buy Me a Coffee

During this time of the year, the English countryside becomes increasingly colder, almost seemingly out of nowhere. It’s as though, as the last days of September approach, that the sun decides it no longer wishes to provide the beautiful warmth it had during the summer months.

The sky outside is a darkening grey as you stare absentmindedly out of the window of your bedroom, the view still beautiful looking upon the expanse of greenery to the front of your property.

Moving to England had been the best decision for you, especially under the circumstances. You first occupied your quaint, sheltered home the previous year, in the midst of the Autumn season – the surrounding areas of the cottage you so adore, instantly made you feel at home amongst the beauty of the countryside.

You love the season so much so, that you bestowed its name upon the small bundle nestled safely in your arms, barely a month old.

Your little Autumn.

Such a small, delicate thing, with ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. As soon as you saw that positive pregnancy test gripped between your shaking fingers, you vowed to protect and love her with your life – nothing could change that. A dusting of dark hair adorns her head and that accompanied by the beautiful ocean blue of her eyes, makes her a spitting image of her father. Your husband.

A husband you wish makes a safe return home, to you. To both of you. Despite his work and his beliefs, you still love the man the world has begun to fear – albeit under the guise of John Lark. The last you saw of him was a week before you gave birth to Autumn – he was flying to Berlin to infiltrate the CIA – that was all the information he had given you. That and the promise to come home safely. Yet weeks later, you fear the worst, spending any chance you can sparing glances out the window, expecting him pull up the driveway at any moment.

Your peace is suddenly interrupted by the incessant ringing of your phone, panic causing your heart to weigh heavily in your chest. There are only two people that have this number – your mother and August. Yet he never calls whilst on work duty, unless in an emergency, which has never occurred previously.

Autumn stirs in your arms, her small fists raising into the air in a stretch, soft gurgles escape her mouth as she begins to wake. Taking her dummy from the coffee table, you gently ease it between her lips, soothing her into silence as you reach for your phone. With unsteady fingers, you answer.

The voice on the other end of the call, you do not recognise, yet you know that he is an ally of August’s, his tone too reassuring to be a threat.

“Mrs Walker, your husband is alive.” You sense there is more that he’s not saying.

“Where is he?” You pull Autumn closer to your chest, a need within you to protect her even more so than before.

“He’s safe and will be on a private jet home within the hour, ma’am.”

“What aren’t-“

The call ends and you feel nauseous. Something is clearly wrong that they do not want you to know. Yet all you can do, is sit and wait for the return of your husband.

At quarter to midnight, nine hours after you received that dreaded call, you hear the sound of tyres on gravel nearing your home. Vacating your bed and ensuring that Autumn is soundly sleeping in her cot, you make your way to the window overlooking your driveway.

You are met with the sight of three Range Rovers, black in colour with tinted windows. As soon as the second car comes to a halt, the rear passenger swings open and, in a rush, out steps your husband. Despite not being able to distinguish his features, you know it is him.

Without further hesitation you remove yourself quickly from the window, uncaring of the fact you wear only a pair of black underwear and one of August’s button-up shirts. You have barely made it halfway down the staircase before the door flies open, revealing the silhouette of the man you love.

There is the briefest of pauses before you both instinctively move towards each other. August envelopes you in his arms, holding you tightly against his body as you grip the back of his shirt in your fists. Heavy sobs escape from your mouth as you revel in the feel of his warmth against your skin, the sensation of his hands on your clothed back. A forceful, yet loving kiss is placed on the crown of your head as August takes in the scent of your hair, missing the smell of your shampoo in the time that he has been gone.

As if only realising, August pulls away, a gasp leaving his lips as his strong hands gently caress your stomach – the last time he saw or felt your body, was with a full-term bump.

“Is-“

You cannot see his face clearly in the darkness of the hallway, but you can just make out that his attention is directed towards the top of the staircase.

“August, come and meet our daughter.”

The intake of breath that you hear from him causes a flutter in your chest. He had confessed to you, the day you revealed your pregnancy to him, that he hoped it would be a girl. A girl for him to cherish and spoil, to protect and love with his entire being.

As you are about to ascend the stairs, you reach for the light-switch, yet August’s hand stops you.

“No lights, please. I don’t want to wake her.”

“August, the light will be-“

“Please.” There is something different in his voice, if you were to guess it would seem like distress. But too caught in the moment of finally introducing August to your daughter has you brushing the thought aside.

“Okay. Take my hand.”

August takes your hand in his, his thumb dancing across your skin. As you reach your bedroom, you ignore turning the light on and continue further into the room. Before your reach her cot, August halts, reluctantly releasing your hand.

“Darling, are you okay?”

Clearing his throat, you can make out a nod of his head.

“Let me just clean myself up first.”

You watch as he retreats to your en-suite, closing the door behind him, save for a fraction that allows you to see the light turn on. But as you catch just a small amount of his reflection in the mirror, you feel sick.

“August?” The raised whisper of his name startles him and as he catches your expression through means of the mirror he curses.

“Shit.”

Moving quickly, you enter the bathroom and turn your husband to face you. Immediately, tears spring to your eyes and flow freely down your cheeks.

“Please don’t cry.”

He can hardly meet your gaze as he speaks, voice rough and broken.

The red, raw skin of the right-side of his face looks painful and you cannot help but think that this is in its healing stages, dreading to picture the sight immediately after the damage was caused.

“This is why you didn’t want the lights on, isn’t it.” A moment passes before he nods his head twice, a sombre expression on his face. Your hand reaches for the unaffected skin on his left side, taking his cheek in his palm, you stroke your thumb over his cheekbone, grazing his eyelashes in the process. August closes his eyes, relishing in the feeling of your gentle touch.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“What happened?” At your interruption he meets your eyes, your gaze unwavering as your heart breaks at seeing him so vulnerable like this.

“Engine fuel.” More tears slip from your eyes as you now close them. With both hands August cups your face in his palms, wiping the tears away as he does so.

“I can’t stand the sight of myself, but just knowing that I have been able to come home to you, has me counting my lucky stars. I am truly sorry that-“

“Stop apologising, August. You’re home now and that’s what matters, I just hate seeing you in pain. This,” you gesture to the damaged skin, will not change how much I love you.”

His response is a soft chuckle before he places a chaste kiss to your lips, lingering briefly.

“If it’s any consolation, I can’t feel a thing – now anyway.” A swift, yet gentle slap is delivered to his bicep as you push yourself away from him playfully. This is the way it has always been between the two of you – the way it is supposed to be. “Now if you don’t mind, dear wife, I would love to meet our daughter.”

You both smile as you kiss him again. Pulling away you lead him across the room to the cot beside the window, turning the lights on as you do so.

Nestled against a soft pink blanket, lies a sleeping Autumn.

Glancing at August you see his tear-filled eyes as he reaches an outstretched finger to her tiny-clenched fist, which at his touch opens and then closes around his fingertip.

“She’s so small.”

“Babies usually are my love.” He meets your eyes with a playful glare before directing his attention back to the small being he helped create.

“She’s beautiful. Just like her mother.”

As if sensing the presence of her father, Autumn stirs and begins to open her crystalline blue eyes.

“Yet looks just like her father.” He smiles in adoration as his little girl stretches. “Why don’t you hold her, you have a lot of Daddy cuddles to catch up on my love.”

There is reluctance before August reaches for her, steadily lifting her from where she lays, until he is cradling her in his arms.

Instantly, Autumn snuggles herself comfortably into his chest, almost as if she has found comfort in his arms. A pleasant ache forms in your chest at the sight of both of them together like this.

“What do I call her?”

You briefly look away to find that August is lovingly directing his gaze towards you.

“Autumn. Autumn June.”

“Like your favourite season. It suits her perfectly.” He moves his attention solely to the small being in his arms. “Well, Autumn June Walker, I think that you are the most perfect thing I have ever laid my eyes upon. Just like your mother. And I promise, I will never let anything happen to you. I swear it.”

[grasshopperjay]

wanting was enough (18+)

pairing: jay halstead x female reader

song: august - taylor swift

word count: 4.1k

summary: jay and the reader are old friends who meet at a bar. neither of them are in a good place, but their night gets a lot better with the others company. however, there’s something important that jay forgot to mention. 

warnings: swearing, angst (of course), yelling, smut, unprotected sex

“Am I dreaming? God I sure hope not.” 

 You’re already rolling your eyes at the horrible pick up line, taking a swig of your drink to get the confidence to shut this guy down, and then you see him, and you nearly choke. 

“Holy shit.” You stutter out. “Jay Halstead.”

“Holy shit,” He repeats, “Y/N. I can’t believe it’s you.”

He opens his arms and you shake your head, laughing in disbelief as you hug him. “How are you?” You ask, and he grins, occupying the seat beside you and you look him over for a minute, trying not to stare. He’s bigger, muscles filling out his previously boney stature. A lot has changed since high school and you can only hope he’s looking at you the same way, liking the developments you’ve made since you were seventeen. 

“I’m good! Yeah, great. How are you? You look amazing.” 

“Thank you,” You murmur, trying not to blush. “So do you.” You avoid the topic of yourself altogether, opting to not mention how little you’ve actually accomplished since high school. Sure you have a degree and a good job, but you seem to be lacking the happiness so many of your classmates have achieved. “What have you been up to? Last I heard you married Abby,” You blurt out, and he laughs, shaking his head in disapproval. 

Is it bad that the wedding ring that was not on his left ring finger was one of the first things you noticed? 

“Yeah, it was uh-, it was a military thing. Nothing more.” He confirms, and you nod suspiciously. 

“So you’re not with Abby then?” 

“No,” He laughs, “Definitely not. I mean she’s a great girl and everything, but, not for me.”

“Wow, I wish you would have realized that in high school.” You blurt out, and then your hand is covering your mouth, a reflex response to stop anything worse from coming out.

Jay raises his eyebrows, chuckling at your stunned face. “What does that mean?” You shake your head but he prods further. “Nope, you don’t get to do that, what do you mean by that?”

You’re giggling like a little girl and suddenly you’re seventeen again. This is how it always was, Jay charming as ever and you completely mesmerized. One crucial part of the picture is missing this time though, and you’re hoping it works for the better for you. 

“I just mean... I did a lot of pining senior year.” You murmur, and he narrows his eyes. 

“Elaborate.” It’s a demand. 

“Do I have to?” He nods. “Ugh, I was just always second place to her.”

He wants to respond with humor, but you can see in his eyes for just a split second that he knows exactly what you mean. 

He remembers what happened behind the mall, sitting in his car, so close to getting everything you’d ever wanted until his phone rang. Who else but Abby on the other end of the line. You had spent the whole summer together but no matter how far you’d come you were always just a step behind her. And just when you thought you were getting somewhere, August came. And you were off to school, Jay enrolled in the military. And the rest is history. 

“You were second place?” He clarifies, and you nod. “Well so was I.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, and he nods, tilting his beer to his lips. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Dan,” You haven’t heard that name in years. “I only went along with Abby because you were obviously into Dan.”

“I was not into Dan!” You shriek, and Jay laughs. “I’m kind of offended that you thought I was...” 

“You so were,” He accuses, and you keep giggling, covering your mouth to try and control how hard you’re smiling. “I liked you, like really liked you. But Abby told me you liked Dan, so I never did anything.”

“She lied,” You say, shoulders shaking with hysterics. “I hated Dan.” Jay is laughing now too, and goodness, you’re so happy you decided to stop at this bar. 

When the laughter fades, your eyes lock and for a moment the wind is knocked out of you. 

Even though you’re probably gonna regret it, you decide to take the leap you never were bold enough to take in high school. 

“Jay, I never thought about Dan a minute after high school... You, on the other hand? Everyday.” 

A small smile grows on his face, and then he says, “Yeah I thought about you a lot too.” 

You talk for hours, just catching up, and it’s so familiar. He asks about your job and your degree; laughs with you about your brother and how he’s managed to stay reckless after all this time; pries about your relationships in the last ten years. He tells you about his job now, and you soak in every moment as he talks louder, hands motioning like crazy when he gets to the crazy parts of his stories. You hold his hand while he opens up about things that happened on his tours, you can see the pain in his eyes even though he tries to put up a strong front. 

He’s so different from how he used to be, but still so similar. And even though a decade has passed, you’re still just as smitten with him as you were ten years ago. 

It feels like no time has passed since Jay approached you with his stupid line, but when the lights turn on, you realize what time it is. 2 am. You’ve been talking for five hours. 

“Shit,” You mumble, because you’re not ready to go.

It’s like Jay reads your mind though, because he slides his hand over yours, giving you a small grin when he says, “Do you wanna come back to my place? I’m not quite ready to say goodbye to you yet.” 

The answer is yes. A thousand times yes. But you can’t give in so easy. “Jay Halstead... We’ve only just met and you’re inviting me back to your place?”

He rolls his eyes, pulling your jacket off the back of your chair with a smirk. “I promise I’ll be the perfect gentleman. No risky business.”

And that’s how you end up in his apartment, sitting five feet apart on his bed like you’re still in high school. There’s a movie playing but neither of you are paying attention. 

However, it’s probably your fault that he’s so far away. When he guided you to his room, you, like a teenage virgin, poked a finger at his chest- his extremely broad chest- and said, “I’m not here to have sex with you.” 

You said it because you didn’t want to seem desperate, or easy... But it’s Jay, and you’ve known him since high school. You feel like you’ve waited ages for him. And you’ve changed your mind. 

But how do you tell him that without telling him that...

You turn your head to look at him, and the corners of his mouth tilt up as he realizes you’re watching him. He turns to look at you, extending his arm, “You know you can come over here and cuddle with me, I won’t bite...” 

With a sly grin you crawl over to him, settling in his arms. And damn, pressed against his hard body you’ve really changed your mind. “I wouldn’t be mad if you did... bite...” You say, words falling off towards the end. 

You freeze for a minute, locked in a staring match with him before you’re pushing yourself up to kiss him. He’s not surprised, his free arm wounds around your waist, his tongue slides into your mouth and all you can think is what have you gotten yourself into.

You kiss him harder, trying to get even closer to him but he stays steady, his hands sit comfortably, resting on the outside of your thigh and your waist, thumbs drawing circles through the fabric of your t shirt dress.

He makes no moves to go any further, and your timid nature prevents you from doing so either, but you’re walking a thin line. You want so much more. 

Finally you say fuck it, disconnecting your lips and tilting your chin up. He gets the hint and he scrapes his teeth across the soft skin. You whine, grabbing his t shirt while you mumble his name. 

“Please,” You whisper, trying to pull him closer. You hate that he’s made you so weak. All he’s done is kiss you and you’re nearly falling on your knees. 

“What do you want, baby?” He whispers, pressing delicate kisses to your neck.

“I want you to touch me,” You whisper, cheeks tinging red at your confession. He doesn’t seem to mind though, with a smile he brings your lips back to his. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you hold onto his shoulders a little tighter. Slowly, his hand makes it’s way from the outside of your thigh, to the inside. And then he’s pressuring your knee, pushing your legs apart.

“Jay,” You mumble, and the second his green eyes meet yours, you’re lost. 

“You okay?” He asks, and all you can do is nod. 

“Are you sure about this?” Another nod. 

You’re so beyond wet from just kissing him, it’s almost embarrassing. 

He’s so gentle, hands sliding further and further up until their fiddling with the waist band of your underwear. You raise your hips, thinking he’s going to take them off but he doesn’t, he only applies slight pressure to your mound.

His hands are working so slowly and the anticipation is building and building. His fingers work their way down, humming over your clit and passing until they’re ghosting right over where there is probably a wet spot. You can feel your cheeks start to burn red at the thought of it, and it makes you mad at him for being so annoyingly hot.

He presses more firmly, and even though it’s not quite where you want him to be, it still feels good, so you kiss him harder. He responds eagerly, nibbling on your bottom lip. Then he’s ducking his head into the crook of your neck, teeth and tongue grazing the spot just below above your collarbone.

You can’t help the moan that slips out, and you dig your nails into his shoulder when he chuckles against the skin there. He connects your lips again with a smile, and it’s so smug it’s irritating. You really just want him to do something other than tease you, so one of your hands leaves his shoulder, latching onto his wrist that’s under your skirt. When you push his hand up he laughs against your lips, pulling his hand from your grasp. “Jay, do something,” You grumble, tilting your head back. 

He leans into your neck, dragging his lips over the skin. “I thought you weren’t here to have sex with me.”

You internally roll your eyes, “This isn’t sex,” You reply and he laughs.

“Touche,” He says, and then he’s moving his hand up, yanking down one side of your underwear. You help him out, tugging down the other side, he slides them down your legs, and then slowly slides his hand back up, taking his sweet time. 

When he finally gets to where you want him, your shoulders slump, miles of tension being released with his simple touch. He dips a finger down to feel how wet you are, spreading it around he rubs slow circles on your clit, and you release exasperated little breaths against his lips. Your legs instinctively open wider, and Jay’s touch grazes lower, his middle finger teasing your entrance. It dips in, and you try to sink lower, but his hand on your hip holds your firmly in place. He pulls it out, and then goes in again, this time with two fingers. You buck your hips slightly, the pads of his fingers brush your walls, and your back arches while you ache for more. Getting his fingers in even further his palm presses hard onto the hood of your clit, and then you know you’re not going to last long after that. Your head is tilted back, chest heaving up and down and Jay watches in awe, working his fingers while you move with him. His fingers are continuously pressing against your g spot, and you’re practically grinding onto his palm now. It feels so good, and his lips are so soft against yours. He’s like a drug, and now that you’re almost to the edge you know one high isn’t going to be enough. “Jay-” You pull away from his lips, head tipping back.

“Let go,” He mumbles, pressing a kiss to your neck.

Another rock against his hand sends you over the edge, your eyes squeezing shut, and Jay stretches his hand back, avoiding your clit while you ride out your high on his fingers. Slowly they stop moving and your eyes flutter open when he pulls his hand out from under your dress. He sucks them into his mouth and surprisingly a hot moan slips past your lips at the sight. Fuck you need him. You fall back onto the bed, grabbing his shirt to yank him with you.

“Bab-” He starts to speak but you latch onto his neck pulling his lips down to meet yours. When you wrap your legs around him you feel his hard on press against you and it’s almost enough to make you moan embarrassingly loud again.

Hands sliding down, you tug up the fabric of his shirt and he pauses to get it over his head. He chuckles when your fingers hook into his shorts, “Slow down, babe.”

Ignoring him you push his shorts and boxers down, and he holds himself up with one arm to help you out. His cock is hard and you bite your lip at the sight of it, the tip red an soaked with precum.

When he leans back down, your hands grip onto his waist, legs wrapping around him in preparation. He slides his cock in between your folds and you jerk when he grazes your clit. “You sure, baby?” He asks.

“Jay, if you stop now I might combust,”

He grins, pressing a kiss to your lips before standing on his knees, grabbing hold of your calves he yanks you to the edge of the bed. Then he raises your legs so they rest on his shoulders, and he’s pushing into you so slowly it’s almost painful. You need him so badly, and he knows. You cry out when he sinks fully into you, knotting your hands into his hair. He has his feet on the ground for momentum, using your thighs to push you down and it has him so deep you think you could pass out. Every time he moves its like your whole body is getting shocked with pleasure.

“You feel so good,” His grip on your waist is getting tighter, and you grip onto his shoulders to pull him down to you, desperate to feel his lips on yours. When your mouths connect you feel like your lit on fire. 

You sling an arm around his neck, wanting to keep him as close as possible. He presses short kisses to your lips while he continues to grind into you, he feels amazing and you know you’re climbing up quickly to another climax. His head tilts back, mouth falling open and it’s like a whole other stimulant in itself, seeing the pleasure that you give him. Nothing turns you on more.

“Jay,” You murmur, pressing a kiss to the underside of his chin. He responds by connecting your lips again, kissing you through your second orgasm. It’s long and incredible, and it crashes over you so hard it feels like more than just one, but he continues to fuck you through it, getting himself off. He presses you into the bed, and you admire the way his muscles flex, and the way he clenches his jaw while he’s coming undone.

He is so beautiful.

Finally he collapses on you, catching his breath before he rolls off. You both take a moment to let your thoughts catch up, labored breaths filling the room.   “Wow,” He finally says, and once again, all you can do is nod. 

Breathlessly he stands, grabbing his boxers to tug on before he winks and leaves the room. When he comes back minutes later, he has two glasses of wine in hand and you grin, you picked a good one. 

“Wow, if I wasn’t in love with you before I sure am after that little performance. Now this?” You smile, taking the glass. “You’ve out done yourself.”

“Anything to impress you,” He teases, clinking his glass against yours. 

You lay there for another few hours, tangled in the sheets just talking more. And you’re wondering if it’s possible to fall back in love in less than ten hours. 

Eventually Jay nods off, and when you look at your phone you realize it’s six in the morning. 

You didn’t exactly plan on staying at the bar later than eleven, work at nine usually is enough to prevent you from going home with a guy but apparently Jay doesn’t count. 

You don’t really want to leave but you should probably go home and shower, so you quietly put on your clothes, trying your hardest not to wake Jay up in the process. Before you go, you steal his phone, going to settings to get his number so you can shoot him a quick text goodbye. 

You’re typing as you sneak out of his bedroom, writing out a cute message about how much fun you had when a voice scares you. 

“Looks like you guys aren’t fighting anymore,” 

With your startle you accidentally press send on your unfinished text, muttering a shit as you look up to see who’s talking to you. If you remember correctly, it’s Jay’s brother, his hair still as fiery red as ever. 

When he sees you he freezes. You’re obviously not who he was expecting because he stutters out, “You’re not Erin,” 

And no, you’re not. 

You feel your stomach drop, and you’re praying that the best night of your life isn’t about to get ruined, but by the dire look on his face, it is. “Who’s Erin?” You mumble, and Will’s face falls, like he actually feels bad for you. 

“Jay’s girlfriend.” He whispers.

Your whole body goes still, a cold impulse spreading throughout your body as you realize what you just did. You can’t bring yourself to say anything else, you just run out of the apartment as fast as you can. 

You’re not really thinking, just acting as you walk down the street, clicking fast on your phone to order an uber, anything to keep you from actually digesting what just happened. 

And that’s how the morning continues, you don’t stop for a minute, occupying your thoughts with literally anything other than him. It works for a while, you can keep your mind off him while you shower and get ready for work, but then you’re sat at your desk, staring at your phone that has not stopped ringing since you sat down. 

It’s an unknown number but you know exactly who it is. There’s seven missed calls, numerous texts but you’re not looking at any of them. You’re busy thinking of what happens now.

What if she finds out? What if she finds out and finds you? You’ve maximized jumping to conclusions and gone straight for diving off a cliff into a lake of worst case scenarios. 

There’s more missed calls and texts by the time lunch rolls around, you’ve had concerned comments from just about everyone of your coworkers, but it’s easy to brush off their worry, your own however? Just about impossible.

How is it that you became a home wrecker without even knowing? Was there some sign of her that you missed? Because you feel like you should have known. 

You’re still sitting at your desk, staring blankly at a computer that has yet to be turned on today when your receptionist, Maggie, knocks on your office door. 

She looks like a deer in the headlights, eyes wide as she says, “There’s a client here to see you,”

“I don’t have any appointments today...” It’s Friday, you never schedule client meetings on Fridays. 

“I told him that, but he says it’s urgent.” 

For her sake, because she looks terrified, you roll your eyes and nod. “Okay send him in.”

She steps aside and then your client is sauntering into the room, badge on display for everyone, including poor Maggie to see.

“Is this a fucking joke?” You cry, and Maggie nearly jumps out of her skin. You want to tell her to drag his ass out of here but she’s clearly had enough excitement for one day so you dismiss her with clenched teeth, eyes unwavering from the shithead in front of you.

“Are you kidding me, Jay?” You growl, “Showing up here? I’m working. How the hell did you even find me?”

“I’m a cop, Y/N. I found you in two minutes,” He shuts the door behind Maggie and you can see the intrigued glances from your coworkers. “And besides I wouldn’t have showed up here unannounced if you would just pick up the phone when I called.” He argues, and you scoff. 

“Do you actually think you deserve that? After what you did?” 

“You never let me explain!” 

“What can you possibly have to explain, Jay? You turned me into a homewrecker!”

“I didn’t mean to-,” He starts, but you cut him off. 

“I asked if you were with anyone! You said no!” 

“You asked if I was with Abby.” He counters, “I didn’t lie.”

Your eyes go wide, jaw nearly dropping to the floor. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me. That’s your excuse? A technicality?”

He shrugs, and you resist the urge to throw your penholder at him. “Who is Erin, Jay?”

“My girlfriend.” He admits, and you actually reach for your ammunition, but he continues, “Sort of.” 

“She uh, we haven’t been on the best terms lately, we were living together, but I moved in with Will a little while ago to give her some space. She got offered a job with the FBI in New York.”

“But you’re still together.” You state, and Jay winces. 

“Technically?” Now it’s your turn to cringe. “I went to her apartment before work yesterday, to try and talk through things but she was gone. Her place was completely clear. I didn’t even tell Will. That’s why I was at that bar last night, I was drinking my sorrows away.” 

“How am I supposed to believe you?” You whisper, teary eyed. You’re trying to take in everything he’s saying but you just don’t know if you trust him...

With a pained look Jay picks up him phone tilting it so you can see while he scrolls through his contacts, stopping on a name with a blue heart by it. He clicks on her name, and a picture of the two of them comes up as the line rings once, and then an automated voice chimes in. 

The number you have dialed is no longer in service. 

“I’ve sent her a hundred texts messages, but none of them have delivered.” He says, and his bottom lip is quivering. “You have to believe me, we’re over.” 

It sure seems that way... But the pain of thinking you were the other woman has quickly been replaced by the pain of realizing you’re the rebound. 

There’s no good outcome, any which way you spin this.

“So I was a rebound then?” You say, voice nearly breaking. 

He can’t say no to that, and it hurts you even more. “I don’t-, I don’t know. But I needed you last night. I saw you and I didn’t even think about her for the entire night. I felt okay for the first time since leaving mine and Erin’s empty apartment and I wanted to hold onto that. I still do.”

“Jay,” You whisper, “I don’t know if I can be that for you... It feels like high school all over again. Your second choice, again.” 

“You won’t be.” He reassures you, and then he steps forward to pull you into his arms and you shouldn’t let him but you do. “I promise you won’t be a second choice.” 

He can’t really promise that, though. He can try and you convince you of that, but he’s always been someone else’s. Never yours to lose. Tears roll down your cheeks and you try to pull away from him, but he’s not letting go. 

“I’m not ready to say goodbye to you yet.” 

.....

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[holylulusworld]

Her substitute (4) - Back Home

Summary: Once you were her best friend. Now her widower seeks shelter in your arms. 

Square Filled: Bonham Walker for @walker-bingo​​

Ship: Cordell Walker x fem!Reader, Cordell Walker x Emily Walker (widowed)

Characters: Bonham Walker, Stella Walker, August Walker, Abeline Walker

Rating: Mature

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of a loved one, remorse, awkward situations, idiots in love, Walkers family is the best, arguments, implied smut

Word Count: 1,6 k

Her substitute masterlist

2021 Walker Bingo masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​

<< Part 3

“Y/N,” Stella clings to you, refuses to let go of you. The moment you got out of your old truck she jumped at you, crying as you came back. “You’re back.”

“Yeah,” you swallow thickly when Stella tells you how much she has missed you. For now, you will hide you still don’t know if you will stay or go back to New York. “How have you been? I know my departure was—sudden.”

“It was his fault, wasn’t it?” she chokes out, looking up at you. “Why can’t he just admit he wants to go out with you? Dad should stop being so stubborn.”

“Your father and I, we are friends and partners. It’s complicated, you know. Maybe it would be easier if I wasn’t your mom’s best friend. I think Cor—I mean your dad doesn’t know how to express his feelings. And I don’t know if it’s a good idea that I stay here.”

“Why? You are family, Y/N. Please don’t leave us again. August, he doesn’t show it but he’s missing you too. He’s as stubborn as dad,” Stella sighs when you run your hand over her hair. “Dad is an idiot for not seeing how much you care about him.”

“There she is, the long-lost daughter,” Bonham smirks when you walk toward the house, Stella hot on your heels. She refused to leave your side since you are back in town, even followed you home when you tried to change clothing.

“Hi,” you let Cordell’s father wrap you in a hug. “How have things been since I’ve been gone? Do you still drive your wife crazy?” he snickers at your words.

“So, you’ve become an important FBI agent now?” he looks at you, searching your face while hoping you will come back. “I heard about Cordell and you. Why didn’t you tell me you are about to become our new daughter-in-law?”

“Bonham,” you sigh, shaking your head lightly, “this is all a misunderstanding. Cordell and I are only friends and partners.”

“Do you want to tell me you left your home, your family for a job you don’t want out of the blue? I know about the blind date and that you left town right after you canceled, the party,” he slings one arm around your shoulders to lead you into the house. “I am an old man, not blind nor stupid.”

“Love is out of the question for Cordell and me,” Bonham doesn’t say a word. He guides you into the house, biting his tongue. “Emily was the woman he loved, and it will always be her for him. I don’t think he will be able to open his heart for someone else.”

“How about we save the heavy topics for later and have dinner? Abeline made your favorite, and she made a pie to die for, Y/N,” you hate to say no to Bonham, so you nod silently, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You know, if he doesn’t man up and asks you out, I’ll handle this for him.”

“Bonham,” he laughs when you try to stop him from playing the matchmaker for you and his son. “Please don’t try to change his mind. Cordell is—”

“A stubborn man, but he has feelings for you, my dear. He’s like his old man,” Bonham ends your sentence. “Y/N, he’s a good man, with a broken heart. He just needs a little push. Let me push him if I must.”

“That’s delicious Abeline,” you try to break the awkward tension in the dining room. While Stella and August won’t stop asking questions about New York, the FBI and your training Cordell sits opposite you, frowning anytime you say something, “as always.”

“Thank you, Y/N,” Cordell’s mother gives you a soft smile, offering another slice of the pie to you. “You are always welcome to join us for dinner. Cordell should invite you more often.”

“Mom,” Cordell clears his throat, eyes drifting toward you again. Tonight, he sticks to water, doesn’t even touch the beer his father offered to him. “Y/N will come around when she finds the time. She has her own life…maybe even in New York.”

“Dad,” Stella drops her fork. She grimaces, pointing her finger at you. “Do you want her to leave town again? Why don’t you ask her out? If you can go out with that other woman, you can go out with Y/N!”

“Stella,” August tries to spare you another hurtful scene. He’s grown for his age, and you give him a weak smile. “We talked about this, didn’t we?”

“Fine,” grasping for her water Stella glares at her father. “If she leaves all of us because of you, I will never forgive you.”

“I think that is enough,” Bonham speaks up. “Y/N doesn’t owe you anything, Stella. She is important to all of us, but this doesn’t mean she must stay in town and work as a Texas Ranger, not when she has the chance to become an FBI agent.”

“Grandpa,” Stella sniffs, looking at him, pleadingly. “Please. I don’t want to lose her too. He can’t ruin everything for us. Mom died because—”

“Enough,” this time you drop the fork. “It was my fault too. We arrested that man together. I was the one not wanting to give up and your mom and Jason paid the price. The guilt almost ate me up and your father was the one catching my fall,” you admit, pushing the tears away.

“What?” Stella inhales sharply. She always believed you are like Wonder Woman. Invincible and strong-willed. “But—but you seem so strong and…”

“Even the mightest people fall sometimes. It’s no shame to accept help from someone,” you clear your throat, eyes drifting toward Cordell. You know he’s ashamed Geri called you and that you saw him drunk once again. “Some people might say you are even stronger for accepting help.”

“Hi—erm, can I help you?” watching you clean the dishes Cordell awkwardly stands in the kitchen. “Mom said the dishwasher needs fixing. Let me lend you a hand.” He stands behind you to subtle sniff at your hair.

You can feel his chest press against your back when he tries to take the first plate out of your hand. “I—I can do this,” voice a little shaky you try to focus on the warm water soaking your hands, not the heat coming out of Cordell’s body. “How about you go back and chat a little or something.”

“Y/N, will it always be like that from now on? I want you to look at me the way you did before you left for New York,” he begins. “Please at least look at me. Even if you give me a dirty look. Just talk to me.”

“Do you think you are the only person thinking about shit all the time,” you place the plate back into the sink. “I think about Jason and Emily all the fucking time,” you turn around to jab your finger into his chest.

“Baby girl,” you whimper at the pet name. “I’m sorry—” he runs his large hands up and down your arms to calm you. “I should have stayed away from you, but I can’t. Y/N, I feel guilt too.” You huff at his words, not believing he feels sorry at all.

“Oh, you feel guilty for fucking me?” you retort, letting out a frustrated huff. “Do you know why I feel guilty, huh?” he shakes his head, swallowing thickly when tears well up to your eyes. “I feel guilty for getting them killed. I feel guilty for fucking my best friend’s husband. I feel guilty for hiding whatever we have from our families and friends. And I feel guilty for wanting you so bad that I can’t think straight when you are close to me.”

“Baby girl,” he gently cups your face, stroking your skin with his thumbs, “I’m so sorry for being an insensitive asshole. I should’ve told you how I feel a long time ago.” His lips softly press against your forehead, and you sigh deeply, hating he makes you feel weak all over again. “Please, give me a chance to show you I can be better.”

“I need to…I need to go,” you duck under his arm to escape the painful situation. Before you flee out of the house you look back over your shoulder to give Cordell one last glance. “Give me a few days to sort my thoughts, Cord. I just can’t be with you right now.”

“Hey, Ems,” you sit in front of your friend’s grave. “Do you think I should go back to New York? I-I know it’s wrong to love your husband, but I can’t stop my heart from beating only for him.” you sniff, wiping your eyes. “Shit, I can still feel his hands on me. He’s just—fuck. Cordell gets under my skin, Emily.”

Silence is a good friend tonight, so you sit there in front of her grave, drinking your favorite beer. “Do you remember when we first met? I thought you hate me, and you believed I am too cool to hang out with you. But the truth is, back then, I thought you are the coolest girl I ever met.”

“Shit, I wish you were here with me, Emily. I swear, nothing would’ve happened between me and Cordell if you were here. I could’ve never done such a shady thing,” you sip at your beer, sighing deeply.

“...and even now, I think about him and his fucking hands. God, his hands all over me and his lips against my throat. I love when he calls me baby girl. It drives me crazy, and I believe that I will lose my mind.”

“Coming,” Cordell grumbles, reluctantly opening the door to his house. “Y/N?” he gasps when you grab his shirt to bring him down for a messy kiss. “Baby girl.”

“Just shut up,” cupping the back of his neck, you kiss him again, this time slow and gentle. “I-I don’t know what to do. I only know that I want you.”

“I want you too—” you find yourself in his arms, your legs around his waist as he carries you inside his house. “Let me show you how much, baby girl…”

>> Part 5

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[astarryon]

Another Lifetime: Shouldn’t Have Gotten Shot

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Description of war and battle injuries, mentions of blood, gunshots, language, etc.

Summary: Bucky doesn’t like talking about her, but Dr. Raynor isn’t an easy person to argue with. And now that it’s summer –– now that he’s living through the months they’d shared together all over again, only without her by his side –– fighting the memories becomes all the more difficult.

A/N: Listen, I really don’t know what’s gotten into me but ever since tfatws started I have been INSPIRED! Hoping to update this fic sem regularly, but we’ll see where the new school term takes us. As always, I hope you enjoy, and feel free to let me know what you think!

Bucky Barnes has never been overly fond of the summer.

One aspect was the fact that he could remember what it was like to be a miserable kid living in a cramped Brooklyn apartment with no air conditioning and three baby sisters who never stopped whining about the heat. Of all the jumbled, foggy memories bouncing around the confines of his skull, that one is clearer than most. And though he still finds it difficult to picture the faces of his little sisters –– can’t hardly remember arcs of their noses, much less the colors of each of their eyes –– a nostalgic, brotherly feeling washes over him all the same.

There’s also the little detail that he’d received his draft notice in the summer months. That Bucky remembers perfectly, one of the few memories strong enough to remain unmuddied by all those years of shitbag scientists rooting around his head and picking his brain apart. The heat that year had been sweltering, and once his mother found him in her kitchen with that damned letter clutched between his fingers, he felt it burn right through the strings of his heart. 

The first week of July delivered the news. The last saw him shipping out to bootcamp. 

He guessed he didn’t mind the sunshine. That part had always been nice, and it helped to calm him on occasion these days, to remember that the golden rays licking comforting heat up his skin were the same ones which had shone down on him back in the 40s, before and during the war.

Before Hydra had condemned him to seventy long years of dark and cold.

To that end, logic said the season he really should hate was winter, but he’d never felt any ill will toward the colder months, and found now, in the present, that he’d only grown fonder of them. When the rain came down from the sky in sheets, or when snow fell so thick it resembled white, puffy clouds blanketing the ground, he took walks. Partly because no other soul would be idiotic enough to trudge through a borderline natural disaster at three in the morning, meaning he wouldn’t have to put up with prying eyes and conspicuously pointing fingers, and partly because experiencing said natural disasters in solitude did wonders for the soul.

Steve thought it was strange. Hated that Bucky did it, kept insisting that he at least take a goddamn jacket, there isn’t any actual proof he can’t get pneumonia. But Bucky always shook his head and declined, rolling his eyes and muttering beneath his breath about how apparently the tables have fucking turned.

But, no. The winter, the rain, the cold –– none of that could ever draw half as much ire from him as did the gentle beginnings of June, the scorching heat of July, the fading light of August. Because those weren’t the things which served as reminders from before.

Reminders of her.

“James. Did you hear me?”

Bucky blinks hard, freeing his gaze from the wall calendar tacked up and viewable just over his doctor’s shoulder. Glancing down, he sees the familiar green of the velvet armchair –– one of three options for patients to choose from in her office, and Bucky’s personal favorite on account of the way its textures did something to sooth him as he gripped its arm anxiously with his flesh hand –– and the worn, fraying knees of his black jeans against it. He doesn’t bother meeting his therapist’s gaze. He already knows which of her expressions he’ll find her leveling at him, if he does.

“Sorry,” Bucky mutters, sucking his teeth. He hopes his voice isn’t quite as strained as it sounds –– though, judging by the way Dr. Raynor clucks her tongue as her fingers twitch toward her pen, it definitely is. “Guess I’m a little scattered today.”

The sardonic hum Raynor gives in response as she knowingly tilts her head nearly makes him open his mouth to finish the silent argument she’d started, but Bucky knows better than that. The moment he starts up, she’ll feign innocence and inquire as to why he feels the need to defend himself when no verbal accusation has been made. God damn, it would be just his luck to end up with the one government assigned therapist actually capable at her job.

“That’s what you said yesterday,” Dr. Raynor offers. “And the two days before, if memory serves me right.”

Bucky shakes his head and tsks, tapping a metal finger against his temple. “Not a funny joke, doc. Remember the audience you’re dealing with here.”

“‘Deflecting.’”

The word drops from Raynor’s mouth with a simpleness that puzzles him.

“‘Scuse me?” he prompts when she only goes on to stare at him owlishly.

“Oh, that’s what I’d be writing in my notebook,” she explains simply, folding her hands together in her lap and leaning back in her chair. “If we were using it right now, that is.”

Again, Bucky rolls his eyes, and has to make an active attempt not to cross his arms like a forlorn child. The threat in her words is easily recognizable, not that she’d really bothered trying to conceal it. She knows that damn notebook irritates him more than any other aspect of their current arrangement, and he knows she’s not bluffing. If he doesn’t start talking, Raynor starts writing –– and if Raynor starts writing, he gets tailed by government watchdogs to ensure there are no imminent incidents lurking in the near future.

He sighs dejectedly and meets her gaze. “What was it you asked me?”

“What it is about the month of June that makes you so uncomfortable.”

Bucky blinks, red alarm bells shrieking in his head. Fuck, he can’t help but think. Fuck, fuck, fuck. Caught red handed.

“June’s fine,” he tries, but even to his own ears the assurance sounds weak. To think, he’d once been the most prolific tool of espionage around –– now he can hardly deliver a lie with a straight face. “Don’t have any feelings toward it one way or the other.”

“Strike two,” Raynor quips, glancing one again toward her pen.

Fuck!

Exhaling sharply through his nose, Bucky sits a little straighter in his seat, searching for any semblance of comfort to be found while already knowing he was bound to come up short. Damn it all. She wasn’t going to let him out of this one.

“Alright, hold your horses,” he sighs, waving a halting hand. Raynor’s expression doesn’t shift. She simply continues peering at him with her dark eyes, waiting patiently for his next few words to come. “Why do you assume I’ve got a problem with June?”

“Because you didn’t start staring at that calendar until it switched over from May,” Raynor supplies. “Like I mentioned, today isn’t the only day you’ve been scattered. Seems like something we should consider talking about.”

“No,” Bucky answers quickly. Too quickly. Shit. If she thought he’d been deflecting before, he didn’t even want to know the words running through her mind in regards to his behavior now. “I mean–– well, no. I don’t think it’s that important.”

Raynor arches a brow. “Funny,” she tells him, “the way your eyes keep drifting back to the word ‘June’ tells me otherwise.”

He sighs, worrying the inside of his cheek with his teeth. Caught between a rock and an even bigger, weightier rock. The universe really wasn’t one to take his side often.

Bucky knows there really isn’t any choice here. Either he does what Raynor asks and elaborates on his suspicious behavior, or he risks facing the repercussions of those notes she’ll be jotting down in her notebook. Which of the two evils is more definitively the lesser, he can’t rightly say, but he knows which of the consequences he’d prefer to suffer through. And they’re certainly not the ones which see him robbed of the ability to walk freely down the street without a detail of armed babysitters.

So he figures that, maybe for once, being honest can’t be the worst decision to make.

“A few years ago, back before the blip,” Bucky tries, “I spent a summer in Wakanda.”

“Housed by the royal family,” Raynor nods, tone soft. “We’ve spoken about that before. You said you found it peaceful there. That you liked it.”

He did, and still does. On the nights when his mind isn’t quiet enough to let him find sleep but his heart feels light enough to forego the slideshow of horrors he’d been made to suffer throughout the years, Bucky’s thoughts often return to the bliss which life in Wakanda had offered him. He’d remember the farm he kept there, the little children who would come to sing and play and dance in trees to keep him company in the afternoons. He’d remember Princess Shuri –– Just Shuri, James, come now –– and the kindness she’d displayed in deactivating the deeper, most concerning parts of his programming. The day she’d told him it was done, turned off, that he’d never be forced to revert back to the Soldier against his will again, he’d rushed her and caught her up in a bearhug so relieved and forceful that her Dora Milaje detail had actually pointed their spears at him. He’d remember the tranquility of it all, the simpleness.

The peace.

There’s no hope of him being able to return to that place any time soon, much as he’d like to, but the memories sit resolutely concrete in his mind. The first of a new set which he’d never have to worry about being stolen away from him by the currents of an electric shock.

“It’s a nice place,” Bucky affirms, sighing wistfully at the thoughts swirling up in his head. “I bring it up because back then, that summer… I started remembering a few things. From before.”

Raynor keeps her face smooth and composed, but Bucky notices the twitch in her cheek that says she’s got a question. “When you say before,” she asks, voice gentle, “do you mean your time as the Winter Soldier?”

He shakes his head, swallowing thickly. Ironically, things would be easier, were that the case. He might not be so miserable in the present, seeing the month of June start all over again. The melancholy might not be so strong. “No, not then. I mean from before. From the 40s, during the war. I don’t know if it was Wakanda’s heat that did it, or that my programming was officially deactivated. But one night I went to sleep in my hut like normal, and then the next morning I woke up, and… and I remembered.”

Raynor clasps her hand together in her lap, the pen, the notebook, the hesitation all forgotten. Bucky sees it in her expression, the shock at the fact that he’s speaking, that she’s actually making progress in getting him to talk about things so painful he often wonders if they aren’t better left in the past. He’s still trying to figure that one out. Miserable as he’s been for the first four days of June, he figures nothing good or relieving or positive can come from retelling this particular tale. It’s all behind him now, and there isn’t anything to be done to change the ending in any significant way.

But… but he figures he owes it to her. As painful as the memories are, they can’t be anything in comparison to what she must have gone through in the aftermath of it all.

Slowly, Raynor crosses one ankle over the other. “What was it that you remembered, James?”

Bucky sighs, closing his eyes and inhaling as deep a breath as he can pull. He lets it loose after counting to six, then opens his eyes again and crosses his arms over his chest. “It started back in June of 1944. I got shot.”

––

June 1st, 1944

It was damn lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

A funny thought, really. One which brings a sarcastic, bitter smile to your lips as you bend your neck to get a closer look at your handiwork. Wasn’t it just two nights ago that you’d been laying in your cot, staring up at the moon through the flap of your tent and counting all the reasons it wasn't fair that the bliss of unconsciousness evaded you? Wasn’t it three that you’d considered sneaking into the med tent and downing a few of the sleeping pills meant for the soldiers? You hadn’t, of course –– god only knew the sort of trouble you’d get in if it came to pass that you were caught –– but the consideration had been there all the same.

“Fuckin’ shit!”

The foul language, mixed with the rough jerk of the body beneath your dexterous hands, was enough to steal your attention back from your jaded inner monologue. Nearly two years back, when you’d first signed on to work as a field nurse, the pained outburst would have sent you flinching. Now, the swearing isn’t anything new, and thankfully for the soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up, it was no longer anywhere near enough to give you pause.

“You better hold still unless you want this to scar even worse than it's already going to,” you tell him matter of factly, gently tugging the thread the rest of the way through your current stitch.

The soldier –– Matthews? Moore? You can hardly remember the name he’d gasped at you in pain, but you’re sure it started with an ‘M’ –– rakes his dirty hands over his even dirtier face, brown eyes squeezing themselves shut as his fingers quake with agony. “Sorry,” he rasps, skin paling. “Just… Jesus, shit hurts so bad!”

You cluck your tongue, guilt racking your heart as you push the needle through his skin once more. “Shouldn’t have gotten shot then, genius,” you murmur, shaking your head disapprovingly.

It works. For a moment the soldier’s face twists in disbelief, and in the next, a shuddering, wheezing gasp of laughter expels itself from his throat. The sight is bleak, but it’s enough to twist your heart with warmth as you once again pull the thread through the stitch. You’d learned in the first few months of working as a nurse on the frontlines that the last thing these men wanted or needed was to be coddled along over their injuries, especially by a woman. Vulnerability was more averse to them now than ever before.

Personally, you don’t much understand it –– but your work isn’t, and has never been, about yourself. 

“Look, why don’t you tell me something,” you start, glancing up to… Morrison’s…? face in apology before sticking him with the needle yet again. He jerks, but not quite so violently this time. Another one down. Only about a thousand more to go tonight. “How’d all this happen? I thought you boys weren’t meant to scope the new territory until tomorrow afternoon. Y’know, in the daylight? When you can actually see whether or not someone in the distance is pointing a gun at you?”

“Unit leader was gettin’ jumpy,” the soldier coughs out, groaning against the pain. Guilt stabs your heart like a knife. You’d have given him something for the pain if you had it, something to numb the wound. But shipments of med supplies were behind, and it would be at least a week before you got your hands on anything like that again. “Said going at night would be better, that we could get the drop on them before they even knew we were coming.”

“Yeah,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. “Never mind the fact that their soldiers know the land better than ours do.”

So, the unit leader had jumped the gun. You’d figured as much, when two of your nurses had run into your tent with messy hair and sleep addled expressions, panicking about the oncoming slew of injured soldiers who needed immediate medical attention. That had been two hours, six patients, and about one hundred and ninety seven stitches ago.

Again. It was lucky you weren’t sleeping much these days.

The soldier whose leg you were currently stitching up opened his mouth to speak –– whether to snark along with you at the poor choice made by the unit’s leadership or to blindly defend his superior’s decision, you couldn’t be altogether sure –– but before he could even fix his mouth to properly shape the words, a sudden roar of someone else’s agony effectively cut him off.

Steadying your hands, you carefully turn to peer over your shoulder, searching for the source of the commotion. All night, you’d been surrounded by a cacophony of screaming soldiers, but that yell of pain is one you’re certain hasn’t yet met your ears. And, as you watch the flap of the med tent swing back before admitting entry to three people –– one of your nurses and two soldiers, one leaning bodily against the other –– you discover that your assumption is correct.

“We got a bad one,” the nurse –– Sally, curly haired, nearing twenty four and a bit more capable than the other girls when met with the sight of blood –– shouts. Her eyes scan the tent, searching and searching until her gaze finally lands on you. She pauses only a moment to turn and direct the uninjured soldier to drag the one he’s supporting over to an empty cot before barrelling in your direction. “Gunshot wound to the abdomen. I haven’t really had the chance to get a good look at it, but he’s–– well, to be frank, that man has lost a shit ton of blood.”

A gutshot. Poor guy would either go through a sickening amount of pain just to die, or he’d survive, and end up having to endure even more pain. Either way, in light of your depleted supply of painkillers, ‘excruciating’ didn’t even begin to describe it.

Oh, damn it all.

“Take over here for me,” you command, gesturing with your chin to the needle perched between your fingers. Sally’s already moving to pluck it from your hand before you’ve even finished speaking. “He’s got about fifteen to go before we even think about sending him back to his tent. Don’t let him convince you otherwise.”

“You don’t think I know better?” Sally remarks drily, but you don’t have the time to come up with a witty comeback. You’re already on your feet and rushing toward the soldier writhing in pain across the tent, reflexively grabbing a collection of gauze, thread, tweezers, and rubbing alcohol along the way.

This isn’t going to be much fun for either of you.

The first thing you do is excuse the uninjured soldier, the one who’d carried him in. For one, there isn’t any need to keep him witness, and for another, you work better when an addition of unnecessary eyes aren’t tracking your every move. Besides. You doubt the poor soul laying on your med cot is at all interested in one of his peers –– one not sick or out of his mind due to his own pain, that is –– see him in this state. So, you simply thank the young man for his assistance and shoo him back in the direction from which he’d come, waiting until he’s passed the tent’s entrance before turning your full, undivided attention to your newest patient.

He’s got his eyes screwed shut tight in pain. You can hardly blame him. Of all the wounds to suffer through, a gutshot has the potential to win least desirable. It’s easy enough to see why, as the young man’s handsome features carve themselves into an expression of despair. A slick sheen of sweat coats his pale forehead, dampening his dark hair and sticking it to his skin. He’s biting down so hard on his bottom lip in effort to swallow his screams that you’re genuinely shocked he hasn’t drawn blood.

Though, part of you wonders if there’s even enough blood left in his body for his lip to bleed. Deep scarlet blooms stain his green shirt, so thoroughly soaked through that the fabric has turned almost black. Swathes of red cover his torso, his pants, the pale skin of his arms. It’s everywhere, already leaking onto the white sheets of the cot.

Sally wasn’t kidding. He really has lost a shit ton of blood.

“Hey there, soldier,” you start up, setting your collection of medical supplies down before taking a closer look at his torso. Shirt sticking to his skin the way it is, you aren’t going to be able to get much done until it’s out of the way. And, given that this man is certainly in no state to shrug it off himself, you’ve got no choice but to cut it. Lucky that you’d thought to grab a pair of scissors too, you suppose. “Don’t suppose you might be able to help a girl out by telling her what year it is?”

His jaw works for a few moments, teeth grinding together so forcefully the sound is audible. You think he might be gearing up to let loose another scream before he shakes his head a single time. “I got–– got shot,” he wheezes, whole body shaking, “not concussed. Don’t–– ah, don’t really… get how the year’s relevant.”

You exhale a bemused scoff through your nose, considering your response as your scissors work their way through the bloody fabric concealing his wound. You’re working as gently as you can, and so far it seems to be doing the trick. The soldier hasn’t flinched once since you started, though it’s hard to tell if that’s more due to the fact that he hadn’t noticed any difference one way or the other, or if it’s because he’s dedicating what strength he has left to keeping his head screwed onto his shoulders.

“Fair point,” you reply, still carefully cutting through his shirt. “How about a name, then? Little more relevant to the conversation, I’d say.”

It takes a few moments of silence for him to respond –– almost as if he’s trying to remember that he’s got a name –– but eventually, it comes.

“James,” he tells you, the single syllable leaving his mouth in a pained grunt.

You nod, cutting away the last of the fabric. “Nice to meet you, James,” you tell him, carefully peeling the tatters of his ruined shirt from his abdomen. “You just hold tight a little longer for me, alright? We’ll fix you up good as new.”

It isn’t a pretty sight, what you find beneath. Under all that red is a nasty wound, jagged and swollen at the edges, punched into the flesh just beneath the southmost edge of his ribcage. Thankfully, no bones have been hit –– a shattered rib would be immediately evident, both in the pitch of his screams and the deformed shape of his chest –– but the wound is more than a little inflated. There’s a puffiness to it that you can’t comprehend, a stiffness to its perimeter that doesn’t click in your mind, until––

Until you see the small, dark center, and suddenly it does.

You swear beneath your breath, a filthy, ugly word that you’d picked up a few weeks back from one of your patients. You don’t even know what it means, not really, but speaking it feels cathartic enough that you don’t altogether care.

Oh, sweet, holy hell.

James cracks an eye open, muttering, “Darlin’, you rea–– you really gotta work on your bedside manner.”

“Alright, listen to me, James,” you tell him, forgoing a witty response. You don’t have the time, not considering what you’re now dealing with, and you figure James will appreciate your working hands more than he’ll appreciate your shitty attempts at banter. “There’s… there’s something I need to do for you, before I can start patching you up. Now, normally I could give you something for the pain, but we’re out of the anesthetic I need. So this isn’t gonna… it’s not gonna feel very good.”

James looses a labored sigh, oddly calm for the clear anguish marring his face. “Shit, well good news,” he mutters, swallowing thickly, “it already doesn’t.”

His lashes flutter in a telltale manner, one which lets you know he’s getting closer to the brink and you’re running short on time. It’s easy enough, not to give in to the panic this incites in your chest. You’ve been doing this job a long time now, know that what James needs is your calm, your level-headedness. Those things have a higher chance of keeping him alive, of seeing to it that he comes out of this on the other side. Scarred up, maybe, and without the ability to breathe as deep as he once could, but still alive.

You shake your head, grabbing the tweezers from where you’d set them down before planting your forearm against an uninjured section of James’ bare chest for leverage. “Alright, big breaths, James. You scream as loud as you want or need to, but just… try and stay as still as you can, okay? I won’t be able to stop until it’s done.”

The only answer he gives in response is a shaky nod, the thick black fringe of his lashes brushing his cheekbones as his lips begin to move at a speed with which your eyes can hardly track. A prayer, you figure, or a plea for a quick end. Whichever it is, it helps him to relax just the tiniest bit more, slightly smooths out the lines of pain and suffering etched into his face.

Until you start digging with the tweezers, that is.

Then it’s all white hot screams of pain.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper beneath his cries, words drowned out by the sheer volume of the howls ripping out of his throat. But you don’t stop working, don’t withdraw the tweezers from his bloody wound. You hadn’t been joking when you told him starting meant you couldn’t stop until you finished. Abandoning the task now meant leaving James to bleed out in a matter of seconds. “I know it hurts, I’m sorry. You’re doing good, though, alright? You’re doing amazing. I’m sorry.”

It takes a moment for the tweezers’ edges to find the metal bullet lodged in his skin. At first, all you can feel is a mess of flesh and muscle, shredded and frayed from the impact of the gunshot. For a few short seconds, you wonder if your eyes hadn’t been playing tricks on you, if it would have been more wise to search for an exit wound on his back than to simply jump straight in without taking the time to stop and think.

But your worries are unfounded –– proven two seconds later when your tweezers make contact with the tiny, foreign object threatening James’ life. Carefully, you maneuver the tweezers into the correct position to properly take hold of the bullet. Then, with one last whispered apology, you slowly and carefully begin to pull.

James’ legs buck hard against the cot, arms straining at his sides where he’s got both his hands fisted into the sheets in an attempt to hold on for dear life. His teeth chatter against each other, knocking and clacking as he tries to get ahold of the screams pouring freely from him, and that thin sheen of sweat coating his skin has turned into a full on tidal wave.

But his torso doesn’t move –– not a single inch.

“We’re almost done,” you assure him, keeping your hand steady as you continue gently easing the bullet up, and up, and up. You can just make out the silver edges of it now, slick with blood and dented. It won’t be long now, before it’s out and you can start working on staunching the blood leaking from his body. Maybe you can lift his spirits with a joke or two then, a witty comment to ease some of the pain. Maybe––

The bullet slips from the tweezers, catching you off guard and jerking your hand to the left. It’s only by a centimeter, not a huge distance, but given that you’ve got edges of metal inserted into this man’s wound, to him, it makes all the difference in the world.

James throws his head back and screams, loud enough that you can instantly hear his vocal cords go raw beneath the strain of the volume. A single word leaves his lips; it sounds like Ma, only it’s warped, strangled. Much as you detest the fact, you know the sound well. A soldier crying out for his mother while under the thrall of delirium and pain isn’t exactly a rarity around these parts.

Guilt twists your heart with the razor sharpness of a cruel knife.

“Stop,” he gasps, voice hoarse. “P-please–– please stop!”

“I can’t,” you tell him, already repositioning your tweezers and going back in. Luckily, the bullet is much closer to the surface of his wound now. It only takes a second before you find another grip on it, instantly deciding to forego gentleness in favor of speed. “But the good news is––” With a slight bend of your wrist and a soft, wet pop, the bullet comes loose from his wound. “––we’re done with the shitty part.”

James’ eyes, glassy with pain and pupils blown wide, fall first to the bullet you hold up for his perusal, set against a backdrop of lowlight and your blood covered hand, before wandering their way up to your face. It’s then that you notice his irises are water blue and clear as crystal. You’re not sure why, but their color fascinates you.

“I wanna keep that,” he mutters weakly.

Then, his lashes flutter rapidly and his head lolls to the side, his lungs expelling a great, big breath before shuddering to a halt.

Your heart lurches at the sight. For one, awful moment, you think you’ve just put the poor man through all of that pain and agony only to end up somehow killing him in the process –– never mind the fact that this isn’t the first time you’ve extracted a bullet from a soldier’s abdomen, and certainly isn’t likely to be the last. But then his chest starts up moving again, at a much less worrisome pace. It’s slow, and his breaths are shallow, but they’re still breaths.

Unconscious –– not dead.

The realization is enough to make you send a mental note of thanks to whichever being was kind enough to have shown James mercy.

You allow yourself the shortest of moments to bask in the relief –– that you’d successfully extracted the bullet, that James hadn’t died during or after your attempts to do so, that you aren’t now left to set in motion the process of another condolence letter being shipped across seas to his family.

And once it passes, once you’ve inhaled and exhaled and wiped your hands on a cloth, you grab a cloth and press it to James’ wound, setting to work on stopping his bleeding –– but not before wrapping the bullet you’d just dislodged from his body in a pad of gauze and tucking it into the breast pocket of your uniform.

––

Chapter Two: Someone Good

[suchalonelysunflower]

You’re the voice I hear inside my head, the reason that I’m singing (l.h)

Pairing: Luke Hemmings X Fem!Reader

Summary: Luke needs help writing a song, luckily you’re there to help him. You just hope your feelings for him won’t interfere in the writing process.

Warnings: Smut, Fluff, Angst if you blink. The reader uses she/her pronouns. Language, invasion of privacy, unprotected sex (don’t do it guys) oral female reciving. Maybe some grammatical errors (English it’s not my first language, sorry)

Word count: 4.5k

Author’s Note: Hello ✨ I’ve been working with this Luke piece since August and I finally stop procrastinating in order to finish it 🎉 Reblogs, comments, feedbacks and likes are always welcome and encouraged! I love to hear from you guys ❤️ Hope you like it and Happy Reading 🦋🌻

My materialist // Wanna be on my tag list?

He did it.

After almost two weeks of not getting anything good out of his head Luke finally beat the writer’s block.

He jumped out of his seat in the island kitchen and ran towards his music room with a very excited Petunia walking behind him with her tongue hanging out of her mouth. Luke grabbed his notebook and started writing as soon as his ass hit the cushions of the little sofa he had there, getting already lost in the sound.

His eyes filled with joy as he wrote down the melody, muttering some words to go along with it and bobbing his head as the rhythm got better and better. He couldn’t feel prouder.

It wasn’t like him to have such a strong writer‘s block, whenever it happened his band mates were there to help him get through it. However, this time they weren’t here, they were still at the studio where he was supposed to be.

It was an unanimous decision, they all new Luke wasn’t at his best, always getting frustrated and closing himself up to others, refusing any help until he could come up with something on his own, so they recommended him to rest at home for a couple days before he totally burns out and, reluctantly, he agreed.

But all of that self pity ended now that he got a melody going on and a few lyrics written down. To say that he was in cloud nine was an understatement.

A few moments later his phone started ringing. He was doing so well that he didn’t think to answer it until he saw your name pop up.

“Leech!” He said with a smile once he picked up.

You scrunch your nose at the old nickname. You have known the man for at least 19 years and he still refuses to let go of the fact that you didn’t want to be his friend at the beginning because someone told you boys had leeches hidden in their pockets.

But, alas, you knew the nickname was not going anywhere so you decided to ignore it just this time “Hello, Hems!”

“I’m so glad you called! Just in time, actually” He said cheerfully.

“Well someone sounds happy for a change” You chuckled “What’s gotten you so amicable today, love?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone, you need to come in order to know what it is” Luke teased, not needing to see your face to know that you were rolling your eyes at him.

You chuckled again “Good thing I’m on my way then with some pizza. I’ll be there in approximately one Jonas Brothers’ song”

He laughed “You’re too good to me”

You sighed when he ended the call just a few seconds later “Only if you knew…”

You hated the cliche of falling for your best friend, but in your defense: your best friend was Luke Hemings, how could you not?

Once “Lovebug” ended you found yourself parking in his driveway. You shook your head at the irony of it all as you grabbed the pizza box and headed to the door. You were about to knock when suddenly he opened the door, flashing you one of his signature smiles that made your tummy feel weird.

“Were you waiting by the door?” You asked as you extended your arm to give him a side hug, which he gladly took and hugged you back, bringing you even closer to him. You just hoped he couldn’t feel the loud beatings of your heart.

“By the window, actually” Luke laughed as he took the pizza box from you and walked to the kitchen, placing it on top of the counter “I just can’t wait to show you what I got!”

You could see how excited he was, the gleam in his eyes was everlasting as he talked and his smile reached his eyes with ease, making little wrinkles appear by the sides of them. You smiled back at him and nodded, letting him lead the way.

He quickly took your hand, almost running as he guided you to his mini studio. You sat on his sofa, petting Petunia as he accommodated himself and his guitar.

“I figured it out!” Luke said with pride in his eyes “I conquered the block!”

“Luke that’s amazing!” You knew he was struggling a lot lately, that was one of the main reasons you checked up on him more often this past few weeks “Omg, I can’t wait to hear it!”

Luke nodded and wasted no time in starting playing his new song.

“I thought I had it all, thought I let you go. But truth be told, I’m just a fool in a one man show”

You listened carefully to what he was saying, loving the lyrics already before you started noticing something weird in the melody… there was something familiar in it, but you couldn’t pinpoint what.

“The secrets I held. The lies I told myself. All were worth it cause it meant I get to see your face”

Once the chorus started, you knew where you’ve heard this before.

Luke was staring at you the whole time since he started singing, wanting nothing more than his best friend’s approval, but was met with your concerned face as he continued.

“I never give you away, cause I’ve already made that mistake. If-“ He stopped completely when he saw the way you were looking at him “You hate it.”

“What?” You asked, taken by surprise by his hurt face.

“You can tell me if it’s bad, you know? I won’t get mad or anything but-“

You cut him off, shaking your head as you place your hand on his thigh “No, Luke. It’s not that at all”

“Then what, Y/N?” He said, putting his guitar away from him “Cause you don’t give me that look unless you’re feeling somewhat uncomfortable. I know the lyrics need arrangements and-“

“Luke!” You interrupted his rambling one again, knowing how he gets when he’s flustered “The lyrics are fine! Everything is fine! I really liked that last line you sang. But…”

“But?”

You sighed “Let me show you something”

You took your phone out of your bag and started searching through your songs until you found what you were looking for “Please, don’t be mad” You begged with a sigh as you pressed play on one of Taylor Swift’s songs.

Luke didn’t understand what you were talking about until he heard the first few chords of the song. His eyes winded as plates as he listened to the melody he swore he just invented out of the blue, a deep disappointment came across him at the realization he just repeated a melody that someone else already created.

You paused the song when you noticed his expression change all of the sudden. The gleam in his eyes completely disappeared as a dark gloom clouded his blue irises “Luke?” You asked, but the tall blonde was already getting up and started walking out of the studio “Luke!”

You followed him into the hall, where you could catch a glimpse of him tugging on his curls and cursing to himself. You called his name again with no avail, he wasn’t listening as he drowned in self pity and embarrassment.

“I should’ve known!” He said loudly this time “Fuck! It was too good to be true”

“It’s okay, Lu-“ You tried, but he quickly turned around and cut you off.

“It’s not okay, Y/N!” He yelled, making you take a step back. It wasn’t like him to get so angry to the point of yelling, but you can’t say that you don’t understand his frustration “When is plagiarism ever okay?! I’m such a fucking idiot”

“Hey, no, no, no, no, no” You interrupted, standing on your tiptoes to grab him by his shoulders and make him look at you “You won’t talk about my best friend like that”

Luke looked away, not wanting to meet your eyes at this moment. So you took matters into your own hands, literally, and placed your palms on his cheeks, softly squeezing them together and forcing him to look at you “The song is great” You said “Yes, the melodies are similar but you can work on that. You’re Luke Hemmings for crying out loud!”

He placed his hands over yours and pushed them away in a soft movement, not letting go of you as he did “Well, Luke Hemmings can’t write a song even if his life depended on it” He sighed, more calmed now “I don’t know what to do! I don’t even know if there is something I could do”

You thought for a second “Maybe not,” You said “But there might be something we could do”

Luke furrowed his eyebrows “Huh?”

“Yeah,” You nodded “I know I basically know nothing about melodies and composing a song. But I know a lot about poems and writings!” You said with a smile “I also know that you’ve been having a rough time lately and I just want to help in every way I can. I hate to see you like this, Luke. Let me help you?”

He stared at you and immediately knew that he couldn’t say no to your pleasing eyes. The fact that you wanted to help him took him by surprise, but he should’ve known, you have the biggest heart on earth and he knew he could count on you, always. Hell, you even moved to another continent to support him and his friends. You were always there for him, always taking care of him while also making fun of him and just being the best friend there is. And now you wanted to help him get over his writer's block? He could kiss you right now!

“Woah, slow down tiger” You laughed “We need to make a song first”

Did he say that out loud? Oh shit.

“I- just. Um-“ He rambled, trying to hide the pink that colored his cheeks “Thank you”

You just nodded and walked towards the kitchen, part of it because you were still hungry, but in reality it was to hide the way you couldn’t stop smiling.

“C’mon, Hems! Time to write a song”

**

You have seriously underestimated the whole writing and composing process of a song. How could Taylor Swift make it look so easy?!

It’s been almost a week and you have been staying with Luke 24/7 locked inside his little studio as you revise song idea after song idea, going back and towards without really going anywhere and only getting out to walk Petunia, eat and go to the bathroom. Once one of you gets too tired you decide to take a nap in Luke's bedroom like you always do since you were kids. None of this served as much help to calm down your feelings towards the tall Australian. In fact, you are almost sure they grew stronger than before.

You couldn’t help but get lost in him. Every subtle movement he makes; how he licks his lips and bites them every time he is concentrating on something; how his fingers move so smoothly on the guitar or the piano; how he hums to himself in that melodic voice that gives you chills everytime you listen to it… But there is also the way his eyes linger on you for more than a second; how he lays his head on your shoulder and starts playing with your hand; how he cuddles with you at night and always gives you one kiss on the cheek every morning and every night. He’s got you hooked and he doesn’t even know it.

“What do you think of this, little leech?” The oblivious man called, making you break away from your thoughts as he played some notes on the piano.

It was a sweet melody, melancholic but comforting.

“So we are settled that it’s going to be a balad?” You ask once he's done.

He pressed his lips together in a fine line “Not sure, feels like it’s missing something”

“Almost like a breakdown of other instruments, right?” You ask and he smiles.

“It’s almost like you can read my mind, love”

You smiled, hiding your blushed cheeks from his sight as your gaze drifted back to your little notebook of poems. And, almost without noticing, you start humming.

“Mmmh, Hope and I pray, darling that you will stay… butterfly lies..”

“Take them away” Luke finishes for you. He slowly gets up and sits right next to you, placing his head on your shoulders as you close your book “You’re really good with this,” He said, interlocking his fingers with yours “Why won’t you let me see more of your writings?”

He lifted his other hand to try to snatch the book out of your hands, but you were faster and put it out of his reach “Cause! It’s private” You laughed “Don’t want you to laugh at me or something”

“I could never laugh at you,” He said softly.

You turn your head to the side and almost choke on air as you notice his proximity, making you hyper aware of his breath on your lips and the way he was looking into your eyes, almost like if he wanted to say something but didn’t have the words to do it.

“Luke, I-“ You said in a whisper, his eyes fixed on your lips as he hummed “I- I think I’m a little bit hungry…” You lied, not knowing exactly what to do.

Luke just looked at you and nodded, not hiding his disappointment as he separated himself a little bit so you could both head out to the kitchen. Once there, he went to the stereo and connected his phone so you could have a more relaxing atmosphere.

You started making dinner, nothing too elaborate but complicated enough so you could focus on that rather than what just happened between you two. You knew you were just friends to him, so this new change in his demeanor was surprising and confusing to say the least.

Suddenly, your favorite song started playing. It was an old jazz song that reminded you of home and soon enough you found yourself humming along.

Luke stared at you as you prepared the meal, completely awestruck as he heard you sing softly along the lyrics. He smiled to himself and walked up to you, offering you his hand before asking: “Dance with me?”

You chuckled as you took his hand and let him guide you to the living room. He placed his hand on your lower back as he held your palm with the other one. You placed your free hand on his shoulder and let him guide you through the melody, already feeling the beating of your heart go ten times faster than it should.

You softly placed your head on his chest, relaxing as you felt the vibrations of his soft voice singing along as you slowly danced together.

“I like this” He murmured while his hand caressed your back and his chin rested on your head, placing a little kiss to it.

“Me too”

**

You got out of the shower and put on one of Luke’s shirts, ready to get on the bed and let all your thoughts rest for the day as you drift to sleep. You sighed as you looked in the mirror and tried to calm your feelings down, hoping that this time your heart will listen.

You headed to Luke’s room, wanting nothing more than to lay down and relax. But you never expected to see what you saw.

When Luke noticed that you had came into the room he quickly closed your notebook and placed it on your side of the bed, hoping that you didn’t realize what he was doing.

“Luke, what the fuck!?” You asked in an angry tone as you walked to the bed and grabbed your notebook in your hands “I told you this was private! How could you betray my trust like that?!”

Luke looked terrified, he never liked you angry, especially if you were angry at him. He tried to speak, but you quickly turned around and started grabbing all your things and put it in the bag you brought to stay over.

“Wha-What are you doing?” He asked confused.

“I’m going home” You said in a huff, turning around to put on your leggings and shoes.

“What?!” Luke jumped from his side of the bed and almost ran to you “Y/N, please. I’m sorry! I didn’t know it meant that much to you!” You ignored him “Please don’t go! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

You glared at him “I asked you not to do it! God, Luke! This is a total invasion of my privacy. Best friends don’t do that to each other!”

You tried to walk past him, but he quickly grabbed your arm and made you stop “Well best friends tell each other everything, don’t you think?!” Now he seemed angry as well.

“What haven’t I told you?!”

Luke rolled his eyes, letting go of your arm “Uh, I don’t know! Maybe the fact that you are in love with someone and you didn’t tell me?!”

You were taken aback by his words, furrowing your brows in confusion. He took your silence as a sign to continue.

“The poems, the writings you have there… They are beautiful and heartbreaking, Y/N” He explained, much more calmed “All those words are impossible to write unless you feel what you are writing. The message is right there, clear as water and you didn’t want me to read it. Why?”

His blue eyes seemed like a storm when he looked at you. You could tell he was hurting from all of this, couldn’t he tell who those writings are for?

“Why do you think? You blabbering idiot?” You asked softly, eyes meeting the floor, hoping he got the message.

Luke’s whole demeanor softened and he took in your words. His heart was beating fast as he took two steps to be completely in front of you.

He cupped your cheeks into his hands and made you look at him, telling you everything you need to know with just one look.

“Luke-“ He didn’t have you time to respond as he captured your lips with his, making you drop your stuff to the ground as you started kissing him back.

You placed your hands on the back of his head, softly caressing his curls as he deepened the kiss, parting your lips so he could explore your mouth as he wished for so many years now and making you let out a soft moan as he did so.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for this” He said, kissing you once again “I thought I was being too obvious”

You chuckled “Well, not obvious enough, Hemmings” You pecked his lips one more time.

He smiled into the kiss as he let his hands wander down your back, softly squeezing your ass as he started walking you towards the bed, letting you fall delicately as he hovered over you.

You whimpered as you felt his lips trailing down your jaw and neck, sucking lightly and leaving marks wherever he went.

“Luke, what-?” You moaned, tangling your fingers around his curls and pulling him up to meet your gaze “What does this mean for us? What does this make us?”

Without wasting a breath he said confidently “I want to make you mine, love. If you let me, would you be mine? And I’ll be yours”

You looked at him in the eyes and you swore you’d never fallen harder than this.

You nodded “I was always yours, my love”

Luke smiled as he cupped your cheek with one of his hands, bringing your lips together in a kiss filled with love, passion and need. All that you guys ever wanted from each other.

You could feel his other hand wandering around under your/his shirt, softly caressing your breast and making you moan.

“Can I take this off, love?” He asked, playing with the hem of your shirt.

You nodded and wasted no time in getting rid of the fabric, throwing it somewhere around the room before his lips started marking his way down your neck again, this time with hunger as he trailed down from your throat to your breast, kissing one of them as his hand massaged the other, switching from time to time so none of them gets neglected for long.

Your soft moans and whimpers were music to his ears as he felt his erection growing harder with every little breath that came over your mouth. You could feel his erection through his pants, making you groan as you moved your hips to get some kind of friction where you needed it the most.

Luke noticed your little desperate movements and smirked as he let his hand travel down your stomach, ghosting over your sensitive bund over your clothes.

“Is this okay?” He asked when his fingers started pulling down the waistband of your leggings and panties.

“Yes,” You whimpered “Yes, Luke. Please”

You lifted your hips to help him take off your clothes completely, leaving you naked under him.

Luke sucked on a breath and moaned once he got a glimpse of your naked body “So perfect” He whispered, kissing your forehead “So beautiful” He kissed your lips, only to continue kissing down on your body till he reached your aching pussy “So wet for me, my love” He moaned before placing a kiss on your clit, making you thrust your hips at the sudden touch.

He grabbed your hips and pin them down as he started fucking into you with his tongue. Sucking and licking at all the right spots in a rhythm that made you see stars.

You grabbed onto his curls and brought him closer to you. Moaning his name over and over again “Luke,” You pant “I need more, Luke. Please”

Luke got the message as he added a finger to his ministrations, pumping in and out of your entrance “Is this good, Y/N?” But his question was answered by a sinful moan of yours “Talk to me, love” He said, adding another finger.

“Fuck! So good, Luke” You moaned, letting your head fall on the soft pillow “So. Fucking. Good”

He continued to pump his fingers into you at a fast pace while his mouth was locked on your clit, sucking and licking it with delight like it was his favorite meal. Groaning as he felt you clench around his digits when he hit one special spot inside you “Are you close, beautiful?”

You whimpered and nodded in return, not being able to form a coherent sentence at this moment of pure ecstasy.

“Cum for me, my love” He said, kissing the inside of your thigh and speeding his pace “Cum all over my fingers” And so you did.

Luke groaned as he felt your juices drip past his fingers and onto the mattress, swearing that he’s never seen such a prettier sight than your face right now.

You whined as he pulled his digits out of you, but the tight knot in your belly grew as you heard him pulling out his pants and sliding back between your legs.

His face was mere inches from yours once he settled back on the bed and on top of you. You smiled.

“Hi” You said, trying to catch your breath after your first orgasm.

“Hey” He smiled, kissing your forehead and pressing his against yours “Are you sure you want this?” He asked “Its okay if you don’t and we can stop whenever you-“

You shut him off with a kiss “I want this” You said in a whisper “I want you”

That was all the confirmation he needed. Slowly he started sliding into you, making you both moan because of the stretch.

“Are you okay?” He asked, stopping when he saw your face wincing in pain.

You nodded “So big, need a minute” You said. Luke understood and started pepper kissing your face, not leaving any space untouched until you gave him the go-to to keep going.

Luke groaned as he bottom down, giving you a minute to get used to his length. You were moaning his name as you felt him deep inside you, quickly replacing the pain with pleasure.

“Move. Please, Luke” You begged.

He started moving his hips at a slow pace, not wanting to hurt you if he went too hard too fast. It was only when you wrapped your legs around his waist and brought him closer to you that he got the message.

“Faster, fuck. Please, go faster!” You moaned into his ear. Every little sound you made going straight to his cock, quickening the pace as he started fucking you fast and rough.

Your moans became higher pitch as you got closer and closer to your climax. Your nails ran down his back, leaving red trails for you to trace later.

“Fuck, Y/N” Luke groaned “I’m so close, love”

His hips started thrusting relentlessly, chasing his climax as well as yours, making the bed hit the wall with every thrust of his hips.

“I’m gonna cum” You moaned with every move of his hip “I’m gonna cum, Luke. Oh god”

You let out a pornographic moan as you felt your walls clench around his cock, letting go all over him as you tried to catch your breath in all your euphoria.

Soon enough you felt Luke’s thrusts become sloppy and harder, twitching inside you as he painted your walls with his release as he moaned your name over and over again.

He grabbed your cheek and pulled your face closer to him so you could kiss as you ride down your highs, whispering sweet praises to each other as he pulled out of you and cuddled you close.

“That was…”

“I know”

You both laughed softly as Luke kissed your cheek and got up to bring a warm cloth to clean you up and also grabbing a shirt so you could sleep more comfortably. He laid down beside you and pulled you closer to him, kissing the shell of your ear until you both drifted to sleep.

You woke up a couple of hours later, feeling the other side of the bed cold as ice. You looked for Luke around the room but were unable to find him. The wheels in your head started turning as you looked around the room, that’s when you heard the soft sound of the piano playing in the background.

With a shake of your head you got up and started making your way to the grand piano he had in his living room and, sure enough, Luke was sitting there writing the song.

“Inspiration struck?” You asked, making him jump at the sound of your voice.

He visibly relaxed as he saw you walk up to him in nothing but his shirt “Needed to write it down” He said, kissing your lips as you sat next to him.

You looked at the music sheets he got scattered around “You almost finished? How?”

“Turns out I just needed my muse by my side. Admitting my love for her was the only thing I needed to finally get everything right again”

You blushed at his words and pulled him closer for another kiss “Will you sing it to me?” He nodded.

“Lover of mine..”

Tag: @iknowyouthinkimbulletproof

[morganaspendragonss]

Hi, I love your writing and I wondered if you’d possibly write something where TK kills in self defence and struggles in the aftermath so Carlos takes care of him? If you’re not comfortable with this kind of thing, no worries at all!! xxx

holly's august extravaganza day 2: out, damned spot

thank you for the prompt! sorry it's taken a while but i hope you see this and i hope you like it!

@badthingshappenbingo prompt: rage against the reflection

fandom: 9-1-1: lone star

ao3 | 1.3k | semi-graphic depictions of violence, (very) minor character death, self-harm, panic attacks, hurt/comfort

TK can’t breathe.

The man’s hand is around his neck, crushing his airways, choking him, and he can’t fucking breathe. His vision swims, something wet and warm—blood?—running down his face, so he kicks out blindly, desperate to get free.

His foot connects with something and the man attacking him cries out in pain, his grip loosening and allowing TK to wriggle away. He falls to the floor, heaving in painful gasps of air, but he’s barely given a second before his attacker’s hands are on him again, hauling him up, reaching for him, and this time—

This time, TK shoves with all his might, and it’s enough to make the man falter. A few more thrashes and the hands are gone, TK falling to all fours as the darkness threatens to close around him. He blinks it back as best he can; he’s not out of danger yet, so he starts crawling forward hesitantly, frowning when his hand lands in a pool of something viscous.

He stares uncomprehendingly at the black stain on his palm, then follows the trail along the loose gravel of the alleyway to—

Oh, god.

TK’s eyes meet those of his attacker, except the other man’s stare back without acknowledgement, blank in a way he’s seen far too many times in the field. He’s dead, unmistakably so, and TK… TK caused it.

He did this. He killed him.

TK gags, any breath he’d managed to regain fleeing from him. And when the darkness comes for him again, he goes into it gratefully.

*

TK wakes up gasping, choking on air. The sheets are suffocating him and, when he tries to free himself, they only seem to get tighter. The hands reaching out for him, trying to calm him, are the final straw; TK throws himself from bed and sprints to the bathroom, slamming and locking the door behind him as he collapses against the sink.

On some level, he is aware that the hands were Carlos’s, that the sheets were theirs, that his hands are clean, and that the dream was just a dream.

Except it wasn’t ‘just’ anything. TK did do those things. The bruises around his neck and the cut to his temple may have healed but it doesn’t matter; that night is burned into his memory, the dead man’s eyes watching him constantly. In a frenzy, he turns the taps on full blast, scrubbing and scrubbing until his hands are redredred, sore and stinging.

He glances up, catching a glimpse of his reflection, and it gives him pause. He looks a mess, his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes wild and red-rimmed, his face ghostly pale. Pale as a corpse, perhaps, except TK isn’t the corpse in this situation, and a sudden flash of rage fills him.

Pain explodes across his knuckles before TK even knows he’s moved, and it takes a second to connect it to the sound of shattering and the spider-web cracks across the mirror. He watches his blood run in rivulets down his hand and wrist, feeling a measure of satisfaction at the sight.

Until, all of a sudden, reality sets in.

The bathroom’s fluorescent lighting throws what he’s done into sharp relief, and TK realises what it is. Another mess for Carlos to deal with, to fix, as if he didn’t have enough on his plate without his basket-case of a boyfriend going nuts every other night. TK’s legs tremble and give out, glass shards crunching as he collapses onto them, but he barely feels it. He barely feels anything; barely hears anything save for the harsh sound of his own ragged breathing echoing in his ears.

Even the crash as the bathroom door bursts open is muted, as are Carlos’s shouts; the only reason TK knows he’s saying anything is the sight of his lips moving. Carlos carefully reaches out for him again, and this time TK doesn’t fight back.

He allows himself to be eased upright, allows Carlos to sit him down on the toilet and clean and dress his wounds. They mustn’t be too bad, as he’s just taken back to bed rather than the hospital. TK lies down on top of the sheets and clutches onto the pillow, staring blankly at the opposite wall.

He doesn’t move again until long after the sun has risen, and only then because Carlos walks in with toast and a glass of water.

TK takes the water gratefully, avoiding Carlos’s eyes as he sips. Setting the glass on the nightstand, he shifts into a cross-legged position, staring down at his lap. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Carlos says, because of course he does. That’s been their routine these past two months—an endless cycle of apologies and rebuttals.

“I’m sorry about the mirror,” he clarifies.

Carlos’s frown is audible. “That’s what you’re upset about?”

“You’re not?”

“TK, baby, no.” Carlos’s hand appears in his vision, hesitating; TK turns his own palm up in invitation, and Carlos takes it. “Mirrors can be replaced.”

“People can’t,” TK whispers, that familiar guilt settling heavy in his stomach.

Carlos’s fingers are gentle as he tilts TK’s head towards him, his eyes even gentler. “Ty, listen to me,” he says. “I’ve told you this before and I’m going to tell it to you as many times as it takes, even if that’s every day for the rest of my life. It was not your fault. You were just protecting yourself; there was no way you could have known what would happen.”

Carlos pauses, searching his face, then moves his fingers to brush them down TK’s cheek. “Do you know something else? I’m so fucking glad you fought. It means that I still get to have you here, in my life. I wish things hadn’t turned out like they did, but that’s only because I hate to see you suffering, sweetheart. I promise you, if it came to a choice between this and losing you forever, I would choose this every single time.”

TK swallows against the sobs building in his throat. He looks away from Carlos again, taking a bite of the toast for something to do. It tastes like cardboard on his tongue and sticks uncomfortably in his throat, but he forces it down, ignoring the way his stomach churns.

“How can you say that?” he mumbles, dropping the rest of the toast back on the plate with a sigh. “How can you say that and mean it?”

“TK.”

“I’m a fucking mess, Carlos,” he says bitterly. “I can barely stand to go outside, I can’t sleep more than an hour or two at a time—I feel like I’m going insane because everywhere I turn, I see his eyes and his blood and no matter what you say, I killed him. I broke your fucking mirror last night, and I don’t even know why! I just… I don’t recognise myself anymore.”

This last admission is little more than a whisper as TK finally loses the battle against his tears. He squeezes his eyes shut and does nothing to wipe them away. “Sometimes I think I did die that night,” he admits quietly. “I’m not who I was before then; I don’t know who I am and I don’t know how to get back to who I was. I don’t even know if I can.”

A pause, then he’s being pulled into Carlos’s side and wrapped in a strong embrace. TK stiffens, but quickly melts into it, letting loose his cries into Carlos’s shirt.

Carlos presses a kiss to the top of his head, his lips barely straying when he whispers, “You’re Tyler Kennedy Strand. You’re the man I love more than anything else in this world, and that will never change no matter what. I’m going to be here for you every step of the way; trust in that. If nothing else, trust in me. We’ll get through this, Ty, together. I swear it.”

TK sniffs and burrows further into Carlos, tightening his own arms around him. It’s a thank you and an I trust you and an I love you all rolled into one.

It’s a promise.

It’s hope.

[hockey-fics]

Hockey Players are Bad News ~ Matthew Tkachuk

Summary: Growing up your older brother Taylor Hall taught you many life lessons, but one he made more clear than the rest: don’t even think about dating a hockey player. 

Warnings: Language (if we’re still counting that)

Word Count: ~3,800

A/N: We’re just pretending Taylor Hall didn’t move to Ontario as a kid and stayed in Calgary in this.

You were no stranger to hockey. You had never played the game yourself. But when your older brother Taylor got involved in hockey it seemed like the whole family did as well. He was good, but you would never neglect to mention the role your parents had in him getting to where he was. Beginning with the fact that every winter your dad would maintain a rink in the backyard of your childhood home in Calgary for Taylor to practice on. And practice he did, on the rink almost any chance he got. It was in the backyard where you learned to skate as a seven year old. On the few occasions that Taylor, then thirteen, would take the time out of his practice to coax you around the homemade rink, picking you up every time you fell. 

You were only thirteen when Taylor was the first pick in the NHL Entry Draft by the Edmonton Oilers. But your family didn’t become less involved in hockey. Things were just quieter after that. With a six year age difference between yourself and Taylor he had always been overly protective and the distance didn’t change that in the slightest. 

You made frequent trips to Edmonton and he would come back to Calgary when he had a couple days off. You stayed just as close as you both got older, perhaps you had even gotten closer. And when he went to New Jersey and then eventually to Arizona you still talked just as much, just over text and calls and facetime. 

He had come back over the summer but now it was late in August and he had gone back to Arizona to really focus on his training for the upcoming season. 

Sitting in your friend’s house you look at the Tinder profile on your screen, Matthew. From the first picture you knew more about him than his profile would provide. Matthew Tkachuk. Right wing for the Calgary Flames. Calgary Flames. Despite the fact that you were born in Calgary after Taylor was drafted by the Oilers you developed a strong distaste for the team from the city you otherwise adored. Not even to mention the reputation Matthew carried with him. But the longer you sat there staring at the profile and flipping through the pictures the more you found yourself intrigued by him. And so eventually you swipe right, your screen flashing to the match screen. Quickly tapping the side button on your phone you let the screen go dark, leaving the situation alone for the time being as you focus on the TV show you were watching with your friend instead. 

It was only three days later when you met Matt at a restaurant downtown. The date lasted hours, ending with you two walking around the dark downtown streets just talking. You hated to admit it but the date you had assumed would be terrible was quite the opposite. Matt was charming and funny, he held the door open for you and paid for dinner. He asked you questions about your childhood while you skillfully avoided any talk about your older brother. He told you about playing in the NHL and you nodded along like the inside information was all brand new to you. 

When you finally ended up back at your car you stood by the driver’s side door, looking up at Matt with a soft gaze, hoping he would kiss you. The reality of the situation was that you assumed the date would have been over much earlier and ended in his apartment. But now you were just hoping he would kiss you goodnight and ask you to do it again. And you knew it was bad news. Because the stories Taylor told you as you got older got gradually wilder and always ended with the same message ‘don’t even think about going out with a hockey player’. Especially not one like Matt. 

But your stomach still erupted with butterflies when Matt kissed you that night. It was in the way he placed one of his hands on the back of your head and the way he pulled back slowly, gazing down at you with a smile before dropping his hands from you and stepping back. And it was him asking you to text him when you got home safe, watching you till you were safely in your car before heading down the street to where his own car was parked. 

And text him you did. That night and the day after and the next day too. You exchanged so many texts over the next couple days and each notification from him made you happy in a way you couldn’t explain. No Tinder date you had been on before had ever ended like this and you definitely hadn’t expected to have the best Tinder experience of your like with hockey player Matthew Tkachuk. 

Your second date was mini-golf and ice cream. You picked a flavour you hated and Matt traded you his even though you were pretty sure he didn’t like the one you picked either. Your third date was to the zoo. You tried to contain your excitement but only made it to the penguin excitement before exclaiming how cute they were, while Matt spent most of the time watching you instead of the animals. Your fourth was drinks and arcade games at the Rec Room. You had a couple too many drinks and even though you were trying to beat Matt in a game or two you could barely stop giggling long enough to focus properly. Your fifth was a walk in the park, late fall leaving the leaves a beautiful colour. And you held hands in public for more than a couple seconds, through your entire walk. After that day you started to intersperse your dates with just hanging out, almost always at Matt’s apartment. 

You two had been seeing each other for two months when Matt finally brought up what you had been dreading. Hall was a common enough last night that Matt had never asked about it. You were sitting on Matt’s couch, your legs curled up beside you as you lean against him, eyes focused on the movie playing. 

“Will you come to one of my games?” 

Slowly you turn your head to look up at him, forcing a small smile. You knew you needed to tell him. You were pretty sure he wouldn’t care, but as soon as you told him it was real and that meant you would have to tell your parents and Taylor. Telling him was pushing a snowball down the hill, the avalanche at the bottom would come from everyone else you had to tell.

“Matt,” you say, sitting up straighter so you could look him in the eyes. 

“Yeah?” He furrowed his eyebrows, eyes glancing down your body, taking in the way you had pulled back from him. “Do you not want to? You don’t have to.”

“No,” you laugh, shaking your head. “It’s not that.” Taking a deep breath you try to figure out exactly which words to string together to bring this up. “You, uh, you know Taylor Hall, right?”

Matt’s confusion only becomes more evident as his eyes squint slightly, nodding slowly. “Yeah...why?” there’s an edge in his voice now, uncertain and already on the defence. 

“He’s uh...my brother.” 

You watch Matt go through what seems like ten different stages of processing before he finally says anything and all he manages to mutter is, “what?”

“My brother,” you repeat, knowing he didn’t really need you to say it again, just needed more time to process. 

“Why didn’t you tell me that? Were you planning on telling me...ever?” 

“Ever?” you repeat, pulling back further to turn your body towards him. “Matt, it’s only been a couple months. I though...when this started I thought it would just be a sexual thing. I didn’t expect this, I was assuming you were on Tinder just to hook up.”

Matt glances away from you for a second. “Well I kinda was,” he admits, looking back at you. “But then, I don’t know, I liked you more than I thought I would.” 

“So I didn’t think it would matter.”

“It doesn’t,” Matt says, reaching over and taking your hand, gently pulling you closer. “Doesn’t change anything, I just don’t know why you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Because if things keep going like this I’ll have to tell my family,” you whisper as he pulls one of your legs over his lap so you were face to face. 

“And?” Matt asks, hands on your waist. 

“And they won’t be happy. Taylor is...protective. He’s made it very clear that getting involved with a hockey player is bad news.” 

Matt’s lips curl into a smirk as he looks up at you, listening to your explanation. “Am I bad news?” 

Rolling your eyes playfully you press your hands onto his shoulders, about to push yourself off him. “Matt,” you whine, knowing he knew that’s not what you were saying. 

Suddenly Matt pushes himself forward, one arm around your back as he lifts you up and drops you down onto the couch on your back. “Well am I?” he asks, hovering over you. 

Giggling you run your hands around to the back of his neck. “Yes, you’re awful.” 

Matt chuckles, leaning down and kissing you. “Guess you like bad news,” he whispers against your lips. 

“I’m a sucker for punishment.”

Telling your parents about your relationship with Matt went surprisingly well. After some trepidation about the whole thing they finally came around after having him over dinner, seeing how happy you were around him. Four months, it had been four months. And everytime your parents broached the idea of telling your brother about your relationship you shut it down as quickly as they brought it up. The time would come, you just weren’t sure when.

“It’s disgusting,” Matt complains about the piece of gum he asked for after you took one for yourself. Bubblemint. “Who even came up with it?”

Giggling you shake your head, glancing back over your shoulder at him as you walk up to the door of your parent’s house. “It’s good, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

“Something is wrong with your tastebuds,” he laughs, stepping inside after you. Your parents had invited you and Matt over for dinner, an almost weekly occurrence at this point.

Just as you're about to call out and tell your parents you were there you see Taylor come down the hallway, the wide smile on his face fading almost immediately. A surprise visit. They didn’t happen often, not with Taylor being down in Arizona now. But whenever he had even a couple days off he would spend most of the time travelling up to see you. 

“Hi,” you say, feeling every nerve in your body firing at once. “You’re home.” 

“What’s going on?” Taylor questions, his eyes drifting over your shoulder to where Matt was standing. 

Taking a deep breath you look over, watching as Matt steps around from behind you to stand at your side. “I didn’t mean for you to find out like this,” you mutter. 

“Find out what?” Taylor snaps.

“I-,” you begin, turning your head to look up at Matt, eyes wide with panic. “I, we’re...I’ve been seeing Matt.”

“Seeing?” Taylor questions, eyes squinting, jaw clenching. 

You feel Matt slip his arm around your waist and you immediately tense up, knowing that it wasn’t going to end well. “We’re dating,” Matt tells him bluntly.

Taylor watches Matt for a second in disbelief before stepping forward, his hand grasping at Matt’s arm yanking him away from you. “Don’t touch her.” 

Matt chuckles with a cold tone, shaking his head. “Too late for that.”

“Matt,” you scold a second before Taylor reaches forward, shoving Matt back against the wall. 

“Don’t you dare talk about my sister like that.”

Reaching over you grab Taylors arm, pulling him back away from Matt. He does so easier than you were anticipating, looking down at you with a look of such disapproval you wanted to simply vanish from his sightline. “Matt, go home,” you say quietly, not able to look him in the eyes. Not able to own up to the face that you couldn’t stand up for yourself, for your relationship. 

“Y/N,” Matt pleads, trying to get your full attention. He was just as aware as you were that asking him to leave in this moment had meaning. 

“Go home, Matthew,” you repeat, using his full name to let him know you weren’t about to argue about it. 

You wait till he walks out the front door before you turn your attention to Taylor. But you don’t know what to say, where to begin. 

“What the fuck?” Is all Taylor says before there are tears in your eyes. 

Not only had Taylor always been a protective older brother he was also the favourite child. Nobody would say it, but you knew it. He was a star in the highest league of his sport, he made incredible amounts of money, he had this whole perfect life. And so you had grown up striving to live up to that, to his standards. To make him and your parents proud of you. But now, standing there under the harsh gaze of your older brother you feel yourself crumbling. 

“Taylor, I-,” you begin, your voice breaking slightly. “Please don’t be mad.”

“Matthew Tkachuk. Are you serious, Y/N? All the times I told you to stay away from hockey players and then you go out and start dating...him?”

“I didn’t think, I don’t know, I didn’t think things would get serious.”

“Why did you even want anything with him?”

Shrugging you wrap your arms around your body protectively, blinking away your tears as you stare down at the ground. “I thought he was cute and then we went on a date and I just, I really like him, Taylor.”

“You say that now but in a month or two when you find out he’s been cheating on you then that’ll change.”

“He’s not,” you begin, trailing off as you shake your head. “He wouldn’t.”

Taylor scoffs and rolls his eyes, arms crossed over his chest. “You don’t know, Y/N. You don’t know the way guys act on roadtrips. Just because he treats you well when he’s with you doesn’t mean that continues when you’re not together.”

“I...I don’t know what to say, Taylor. I like him, a lot.”

“You don’t love him,” Taylor states but it’s a question and you know it. He needs to hear you confirm it. 

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “It’s only been four months.”

“Good,” Taylor mutters. 

“Why?” you mutter, voice wavering. 

“Because it’ll be easier to break up with him if you don’t love him,” Taylor explains easily. 

Furrowing your eyebrows you shake your head. “You don’t get to decide if I break up with someone.”

“No, I don’t,” Taylor replies, stepping away from you. “But I can tell you what you should do. And you should break up with him.” He turns around after that, walking back towards the kitchen and leaving you standing alone in the hallway. Should. All your life you had been doing what you thought your parents and Taylor would approve of, what you thought they would say you should do. But you had never hated the idea of what Taylor would say you should do quite the way you hated this. 

After a few minutes of thinking you walk through the house, finding your parents in the midst of a hushed discussion with Taylor, falling silent the second you enter the room. 

“Hi,” you mutter, walking slowly to the kitchen island, placing your hands on the edge of it as you stare over at your family. 

“Hi sweetheart,” your mom replies, voice gentle and tentative. “I sent you a text earlier, I guess you didn’t get it.”

Pulling your phone from your pocket you look at the notification she was talking about. A warning that Taylor was there, suggesting Matt didn’t come with you right away. To just tell Taylor alone, give him some time to process it. But of course it had only come five minutes before you walked through the door, not having taken the time to read it. “No, I didn’t,” you tell her, putting your phone back away and turning to face Taylor. You’re suddenly hit with a wave of emotions, feeling like you just might burst into tears. Every other time Taylor had come home you had been greeted with a huge hug, with smiles and laughter. You felt like you were going to break under the stare he was giving you now. “I’m sorry,” you whisper to him. 

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” Taylor tells you, his gaze softening as he realizes you were on the verge of crying, knowing you well enough to be able to read you. 

“Any guy could hurt me, Taylor. Am I just never supposed to date anyone?”

Out of the corner of your eye you catch sight of your mom grasping your dad’s forearm, gently pulling him out of the kitchen. Giving you and Taylor space to have the conversation alone. 

“He’s not just any guy. He’s plays in the NHL, he’s young, he’s rich, he’s famous. He has so many women interested in him because of that. It’s just different.”

“Would you?” 

“Would I what?” Taylor asks, eyebrows furrowed as he shakes his head in confusion. 

“Cheat on your girlfriend because of all that,” you clarify, stating it unflinchingly, challenging him. 

“No.” Taylor sighs, tapping his fingers against the countertop he was leaning on. “But it’s different.”

“It’s not,” you snap. “It’s not different. It’s not different just because you’re being overly protective. You don’t get to decide what Matt would do. You don’t even know him, you haven’t even given him a chance.”

“I do know him,” Taylor retorts quickly. 

“No, you know of him. You know him on the ice, you know how he plays hockey. You don’t know him as a person, as my...boyfriend.” It was the first time you were officially using that label. Boyfriend. Even though it had been almost four months and the understanding was there that he was your boyfriend and you were his girlfriend you had never found yourself saying it out loud. 

Taylor shakes his head, stepping away from the counter. “I clearly can’t change your mind so I’m going to let this go for now so we can have dinner as a family but just know that doesn’t mean I approve of it.”

Turning your head you watch as Taylor walks out of the kitchen to find your parents. And for a few minutes you just stand there, speechless, motionless, like you couldn’t comprehend anything that had just happened. But when your parents come back into the room you try to push it all away. Because Taylor was right, he was back for a short amount of time and even though things weren’t great with you two you needed to let your parents have their time to be just that, parents. 

The dinner passes by slowly and you try to stay engaged in the conversation. But it doesn’t take much for your mind to be pulled to other thoughts. To thoughts of Matt. At first simply worried about him being upset. But your worry begins to merge with Taylor’s words and suddenly you’re concerned about so much more. Other people. Would Matt cheat on you? Would he have left tonight, upset at you and called someone else? Someone who wouldn’t tell him to go home. 

After dinner your parents move on to dessert before then convincing you to stay for a little longer to visit. And by the time you manage to get yourself out of there it’s almost 11 and you had yet to hear from Matt. You texted him at 10:30, getting nothing more than a ‘delivered’ to signify it had even gotten to him. 

After the night is over you walk outside, getting in the Uber you had ordered. Matt had driven you both there, anticipating you would end up back at your apartment or his. It didn’t matter where but you two were supposed to be together all night. 

When the Uber pulls up in front of your apartment you climb out, feeling an emptiness in your chest. You had never felt such disappointment from your brother. You had never pushed someone away so coldly like you had with Matt. Walking up to the lobby door you open your purse, fumbling for your keys at the bottom. 

“Y/N.”

Spinning around quickly you watch Matt jog up towards you, only now noticing his car parked in one of the visitor spots. “What are you doing?” you exclaim, your eyes taking in his appearance. Ruffled hair, heavy eyes. “Why didn’t you answer my text?”

“Sorry, I fell asleep,” he admits. “I didn’t think you would be there that long.”

“You were sleeping in your car?” you ask in disbelief. 

“Well I wasn’t planning to. But you try spending five hours in your parked car with nothing else to do.”

“Why?...Why didn’t you go home? Oh my god, have you just been here this whole time? Matt, what the fuck? You’re such an idiot.”

“Well I did go and have dinner a couple hours ago,” he mutters sheepishly. “I was just worried...I don’t know, I just needed to talk to you, to see you.”

“You were worried...worried about what?”

Matt looks around, not making eye contact with you. He seemed suddenly flustered, panicky. Stepping closer you reach over, sliding your hand into one of Matt’s. “What were you worried about?” you whisper. 

Matt finally looks down at you, squeezing your hand as he pulls you a little closer. “Losing you,” he says quietly, reaching over and pushing a piece of your hair behind your ear, his hand slowly dropping back down to his side. 

You’re speechless for a few minutes, doing nothing more than staring blankly up at him. Taylor’s words suddenly didn’t seem as loud, didn’t carry as much weight. Because the way Matt was looking at you, the vulnerability in his words, you felt like you could trust him completely. “You won’t,” you finally manage to get out, letting go of his hand and wrapping your arms around him. 

Matt’s arms circle quickly around your waist, pulling you into his body till you're balancing on your tiptoes, clutching at him like you were trying to physically prove he wouldn’t lose you. “Can we go inside now? It’s cold out here,” you whisper. 

Matt moves his hands from your waist to the backs of your thighs, suddenly scooping you off the ground. “Matt,” you shriek in surprise, grasping onto him tighter as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Put me down,” you giggle, looking into his eyes. 

“Fine,” Matt huffs, slowly lowering you back to the ground. “But only because we’re going to pick it right back up when we’re inside.”

Shaking your head you roll your eyes playfully, fishing your keys out of your purse. Grabbing Matt’s hand you pull him along behind you into your apartment building, glancing back in time to see him smiling as he watched you. And seeing the way he was looking at you, so enthralled by you, only cemented your knowledge that maybe for the first time Taylor wasn’t the older sibling with all the knowledge.

A/N #2: I’m not going to ignore the fact that waiting for someone outside their apartment could be a huge red flag. If that ever happens to you and they don’t leave after you tell them to. Call. The. Police.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Together 8: Her after.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

CW: explicit language and content, multiple whumpees, torture, captivity, beating, welts, conditioning, dehumanization, noncon touching (non-sexual), manipulation, creepy whumper, intimate whumper, letmeknowifimissedany

They strip me down to my usual clothes, take the collar off, and hand me the soap before locking me in. I drop the bar and stand under the shower fully dressed. I can’t unsee August’s terrified face or stop hearing his desperate pleading.

I don’t realize the water has been off for a while until Carlos starts screaming at me. Somewhere among all of the curses and threats, I catch, “You’ve got somewhere to be, Princess!”

I shuck off my wet clothes. Replace them with dry ones. I can’t even begin to imagine what kind of hell Wyatt has lined up for me next. If there’s any fairness in the world, August will get to have a go at me and he’s strong enough that maybe I won’t survive. That’ll be the day.

They do take me to him but in reality, he’s lying facedown on the floor in our room. They couldn’t be bothered to put him on the bed. I already know I won’t be able to lift him on my own, he’s so much taller than me. The fact that he’s here, still bleeding, can only mean one thing.

My fingers ache when I straighten them since I’ve kept them balled into fists for so long. I refuse to glance at the camera as I dare to reach out to brush the hair off of his face. No shock.

Fuck me, this is part of it.

August is out cold, which I suppose is a blessing. It doesn’t take me very long to clean the lashes on his legs and feet and get them bandaged. I can’t believe the pharmacy of products stocked in the cabinet. The times he’d hurt me, Wyatt did the first aid himself, to make sure that he wouldn’t leave a scar. I don’t think August will be so lucky. It’s already a bad sign for both of us that he’s getting treated at all because it means Wyatt wants to keep him around.

—

Later, Wyatt comes downstairs himself. He doesn’t even glance at August, asleep, finally up on the bed. He just steps back from the door so I can follow him into the hallway. I can’t defy Wyatt near August, so I step out with my head down. He reaches behind me to close the door.

I keep staring at his knees, hiding my face from him.

“Emma,” he warns.

My hands are shaking. I clench them into fists. Fuck you.

One warning is already generous for Wyatt. He takes my chin in his fingers, forces my face up.

I keep my eyes on his knees until I can’t and then close them. I haven’t done anything like this in years. My legs feel numb, his hand now defining my standing. Withholding is one of the worst things I can do. He’ll still be calm and calculated as I attempt to reverse our roles and punish him, gain any power. My defiance is like making the bed in this burning house—more like pouring gasoline on it—but I don’t care.

Wyatt switches hands on my chin, holding me so firmly my head doesn’t move at all when he slaps me across the face.

He holds me up when my body wants to go down. My ear rings and my head feels like it will explode. He would have already known I’d choose now to try to rebel from perfect obedience. Everything I do only proves and substantiates his claim over all of me, even my reactions.

I open my eyes. I can’t see him through the tears anyway. I hate you.

He doesn’t have to say that there is no need to make things harder for myself. ‘The only thing that will change is your level of pain,’ he used to say.

“You’re allowed to be angry,” he tells me. Because I can feel whatever I want as long as I don’t hide it from him.

A sob racks my body. Why are you doing this to me?

My vision clears enough to see that Wyatt is looking at me stoically. “Your efforts won’t be in vain,” he says, validating his plan so far.

I think of August’s sweet smile, even after all that pain. Why him? What did he do to deserve this?

I don’t realize that breath by breath I’ve been backing into the door until I’m flattened against it. Wyatt still grips my chin and has been keeping my face angled toward his gaze as he follows. He moves even closer, pressing our bodies flush together. My legs don’t hold me anymore, he does, as he pins me there, crushed against him.

Every inhale of his forces the breath from my chest. I can only fill my lungs when allowed by his exhale. He keeps it slow and steady, patient and methodical. I stare back into his eyes, nowhere else to go while he waits.

I know he’s capable of wholly and irreversibly breaking a person but would never settle for something that only proves him just as empty. It’s much more impressive to do it through me. I’m an extension of him, a reflection of his prowess. His twisted mind is what warped me into nothing more than what he made me, incapable of divergence.

I can’t be the reason August suffers more than he has to. I won’t let you hurt him.

Wyatt reads the surrender on my face. It would be less defeating if he looked smug but he doesn’t have to. There was only ever one direction for the dominos to fall.

He slowly drags his thumb, with the rest of his hand trailing along, from my chin, down my throat, and over the collar, peeling our bodies apart slowly in advance. He traces down my sternum, to my waist so that he can hold me when he pulls his hips and legs away from mine, knowing otherwise I’d fall.

My legs and feet still feel disconnected from my body.

“Good night, Emma,” he says softly, holding my gaze for another breath before he drops my waist and turns away, leaving me alone in the hallway to listen to his footsteps fade.

He’s done this before. I’ve wondered why he even bothers locking me up. It’s not like I could exist anywhere but here, with him. I know that. There’s no place for me to go except slinking back into the room. Especially now that August is in there, needing me, and deserving so much more than I can give. All I have is playing my part, as much as it will slowly break both of us. I wonder who will be first.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

Taglist: @deluxewhump

[codename-adler]

foxes + onesies (9/9)

based off of that one post i saw and don’t remember, where people once caught Allison wandering around Fox Tower in a giraffe onesie, and i absolutely melted for her. here is the Foxes’ journey to getting a onesie each!

Kevin

every Fox has bad days

some bad days begin with a specific feeling

when Andrew feels ghost hands as he wakes up, when he feels his body too tight for his bones, or hid bones too big for his body

when Neil feels every sound like a knife to his skin, when the scars on his face feel like phantom pains, when he feels a grown man moves too fast, too close to him

when Allison feels jeans cling too much to her thighs, when her shirt brushes too much on her abdomen, when she feels the food she ate resting in her stomach

some bad days begin with a specific date

when it’s the anniversary of Tilda’s death, and Aaron cannot be in the same room as Andrew, no matter how far they’ve come

when it’s the anniversary the Boyds’ divorce, and Matt can’t leave Dan’s side for one second, no matter how strong their relationship is

when it’s the anniversary of Mary’s death, of Evermore, of Nathaniel’s last birthday, of Baltimore, and Neil can’t take a single look at himself in the mirror, no matter how many times Andrew worships his face with his mouth and his fingers

or, when it’s the anniversary of Kayleigh Day’s death, and nobody remembers, not even Wymack, and Kevin is all alone with this grief that is other, unlike any other he carries everyday, unlike anything he can compare to, and he doesn’t know how to feel anymore

Kevin vividly remembers that day, and he sees it luring around the corner as August approaches

but this time, there is no more Riko to worry about, no more mafia to be scared of, no more Ravens to antagonize him, no more Master to punish him for even attempting to grieve every year

and no more alcohol to make him forget

Kevin quit drinking the day they won championship, they day Riko was killed died

it’s been a year and a half, now, and Kevin still wants to drink the minute things get hard mentally

(it’s also been a year and a half since the Foxes started getting onesies, but it doesn’t feel like it’s been that long, and only Allison remembers that summer where it all started)

so when Kevin enters his bad days, his bad weeks, the Foxes are used to his mood swinging back and forth between Queen of Assholery and Feral Fox

but Kevin isn’t

he isn’t used to feeling all of this, to always think, and think, and think, until everything inside his head is as loud as the outside, until it’s all too much

yet he’s still expected to go on

still supposed to function, to perform, to be a decent human being when he’s not even sure he even feels human anymore

and so when Kevin snaps, the Foxes are supposed to be used to it

they’re not

nobody is

it’s summer practice

the 9 Foxes came in early, before the two new recruits arrive

Kevin is in the middle of yelling at Neil, who is very much yelling back at him

there’s that moment very full of testosterone where each of them throw away their gloves and helmets and sticks

they’re an inch from each other’s face and then Kevin suddenly… stops

he completely stops

his face goes blank, his feet move him back, his arms go slack

he looks at Neil, and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could find an answer to a question he doesn’t know he’s asking

Neil, who has never learned to watch his mouth after all the trouble it got him into, keeps tearing into Kevin

Kevin keeps backing up and Neil keeps pushing further

but apart from his backwards movement, Kevin doesn’t react

pure apathy doesn’t suit him nearly as well as it did Andrew

the other Foxes are so silent, that between two of Neil’s breaths, they can all hear him whisper

“Stop.”

but Neil doesn’t hear him, or doesn’t want to

it gets so out of control, even Wymack has to step in, on the court, when he sees Kevin so unresponsive

it gets so bad, eventually Neil, too, stops his yelling and just looks at Kevin

and he looks, and looks, and looks…

as if he could understand the question Kevin is asking an answer for with his pleading, green eyes

“Stop… Just- stop. I can’t- anymore… “

Kevin shakes his head and looks at the floor as hatred and hurt grip his guts

he takes another step back

suddenly he jerks his head back up and looks at Neil

“I hate you. God, I hate all of you.”

he looks at all his Foxes

then leaves

Kevin Day leaves the court

behind his back, he doesn’t see Matt holding back a furious yet teary-eyed Dan

he doesn’t see Renee leaving her goal to join Andrew’s side, her big racquet blocking his way

he doesn’t see Nicky putting his hand on Neil’s shoulder, squeezing in empathy

he doesn’t see Allison throwing away her racquet against the plexiglass wall with all that she’s got, fuming and hiding her tears

he doesn’t see Wymack matching over to Neil, a whole speech ready to give Neil his piece of mind

and he certainly doesn’t see Aaron collapsing to the ground, his hands holding his head and gripping his hair, his breaths shallow, his jaw clenched shut, his eyes dry yet red-rimmed

but from behind Kevin’s back, none of them see him either

they can’t see him losing his breath as he starts running away

they can’t see him clenching and unclenching his left hand

and they certainly can’t see him crying

the week that follows is undeniably tense between all the Foxes

that week also coincides with a lot of events

there’s the new Foxes’ arrival

there’s the start of classes

there’s the mandatory psych session with Betsy before Exy season starts

and there’s August 27th

Mom’s accident

Kevin remembers the day vividly, he truly does

he remembers because the week of the accident, he was supposed to start school for the first time, on September 1st

he had picked his outfit for the first day, he had new red Exy-themed shoes, he had even planned the lunch he wanted to have that day in his lunchbox (spaghetti squash casserole. yeah, weird kid.)

on August 27th, Mom didn’t come home

on August 27th, he went to the Moriyama property

on August 27th, he settled into a weirdly well-accommodated room that fit both him and Riko

on September 1st, he woke up with Riko and they prepared for their first day

on September 1st, Kevin wore his planned outfit, put on his red shoes

on September 1st, Kevin did not have spaghetti squash casserole

she left him nothing but an aversion for squash, red shoes, and Exy

which brings us as to why, on August 27th, as all the team is mandated to talk an hour with Betsy Dobson, Kevin Day volunteers to go first (with Aaron volunteering to go second and be the designated driver for the pair)

none of the Foxes have really talked to Kevin since the previous week’s outburst

Kevin has no other outlet for this painful day

it’s either talk to Betsy, or ruin 496 days of sobriety with one vodka bottle

the only words exchanged between Kevin and Aaron, on the drive to Reddin Medical Center, are, surprisingly, from Kevin

“Somebody should get you a new goddamn car.”

he doesn’t elaborate further than that, but Aaron looks at him strangely

his car really is garbage, though

once arrived at their destination, Kevin doesn’t wait for Aaron and bursts in Betsy’s office without warning

it takes at least half an hour of Betsy talking before Kevin gives up his silence

everything was already there, he just had to open his mouth and let his words fall

Kevin: I’ve been sober for 496 days. I’ve been thinking about my Mom’s anniversary for the past few weeks. That’s today, now. And last Friday, I told Neil, then the whole team, that I hated them. Care to unpack that for me?

Betsy: I can help you sort some things out, of course, Kevin. But this is your baggage. I’m afraid I can’t do this without your help. Why don’t you tell me more about this hatred you feel towards your teammates?

Kevin: I dont. Hate them. I don’t… I hate what they do to me. How they treat me. Their double standards. How they forget, how they dismiss. Mind you, I’m well aware of my asshole status. I know I am. But them… they’re… they’re mean. Vicious. They cut and stab and don’t care about what’s underneath. They don’t care that I helped them get the title of Champions. They don’t care that I was there every step of the way, that I was right there beside them when we played the Ravens, when we won. They don’t care that Riko died, that he once broke my hand, that I was legally kidnapped, that I went through hell and still lived to walk on my own two feet. They don’t care that I, too, once had a mom. They don’t care that my Mom died. They don’t care. To them, I’m still just a cunt. It’s unbearable. They don’t give a shit and I’m so, so tired, Betsy. I’m not asking for much. I just want… I want- I want them to let me breathe. I want them to realize that, I’m just like them. I’m a Fox. I’m a Fox as much as they are. I wake up everyday, and feel all this weight on my shoulders, in my stomach, on my heart, but I carry on anyways, and I don’t know why, but I do, just like them. Is that so hard to grasp? Is that so hard to accept? What am I doing wrong, Betsy?

Betsy: Oh, Kevin…

the rest of the session passes in a blur

Kevin talks about how every time he takes a photograph, he thinks of Kayleigh, of how brightly she smiles in all the photos Wymack has of her, of how he wishes he could take pictures of her with his own camera

Kevin talks about how every strong woman in the Irish folklore he reads about wears Kayleigh’s face

Kevin talks about how he thought Thea had been a bit like her, and how, in the end, she hadn’t been at all, she was her own woman, a woman he didn’t know and didn’t love, and how he thought he had lost a bit of Kayleigh again when they separated

Kevin talks

he talks

and Betsy listens

when his time is up, Kevin’s voice is hoarse with exhaustion and sadness

he lets Aaron in as he decides to take a run back to Fox Tower

his mind tries to guilt him into going back to the court, but between facing the Foxes after that and isolating himself in his dorm, Kevin knows what’s best for him

he is only disturbed in the late evening, when Wymack enters the dorm

even Neil, Andrew and Nicky hadn’t come back yet

Kevin knows something is wrong

Wymack isn’t supposed to be here

Wymack: Day… Listen, son.

Kevin sits up on his bed

Wymack: Argh, I’ll cut the bullshit. It’s Abby. There’s been an accident. Her car’s fucking scrap metal now. She was brought to the hospital 45 minutes ago, I just got the call. She’s going into surgery. We’ll all visit her in the morning.

Not again

Not Abby

What the fuck is this life?

Wymack: Number Seven wants to see you now. Don’t ask me why, I don’t wanna know. I’ll let her in, don’t make me regret this. Sleep good, son. I’ll see you tomorrow.

he opens the door, takes one last look at Kevin’s tense form, and leaves as Allison comes in

she’s wearing her giraffe onesie tied at the waist, with an oversized WALKER 09 t-shirt

she stands in front of Kevin until he looks up at her

Allison: Scoot over. We’re watching The Crown.

and Kevin, dumbfounded, lets her and moves

he finds himself quite intrigued by the storyline, enough to only worry about Abby with his fingers, fiddling with one of the giraffe’s horns

after the third or fourth episode, Allison starts to talk, eyeing Kevin’s fingers playing with her onesie

Allison: Wanna know the latest gossip? Even Andrew has a onesie, now. God, I can’t believe this is a sentence that exists. Andrew Minyard owns a fucking onesie. Do you know what that makes you?

Kevin stays silent, eyes fixed somewhere not quite on Ally’s laptop screen

Allison: That makes you the only Fox without one.

Kevin: Oh, so now I’m a Fox? Didn’t seem that way earlier. Or, like, ever.

the dealer chooses her next words very carefully

Allison: Just because we hadn’t seen it yet, just because we were too busy stuffing our heads up our asses, doesn’t mean you weren’t a Fox… I know, I know. Hard to feel like one when the others give you shit non-stop. Been there, done that. And now I’ve done it to you, too, and I’m… Sorry. We’re dysfunctional, there’s no changing that. But- We can do better. We’ll try, promise. I think you’ve made quite an impression on Betsy today, ‘cause we all received a good talk from her during our sessions. I mean, don’t expect Andrew running in to apologize, but, you know… Something about Betsy turning severe makes you re-evaluate your life choices. We’ll do better, Day.

Kevin looks at her, then

really looks at her

and nods

yet just as he turns his attention back to the screen, Allison leaves the Netflix page and googles “onesie adult”

Kevin: Oh, no. Absolutely not. Nope.

Allison: Oh, yes, yes, yessss!

but then, of course, there’s a knock at the door, and Allison gets up, opens the door, lets the person in, whispers something, and leaves

just like that

and oh

It’s Aaron

Aaron: So… Allison tells me you’re finally getting yourself one of those stupid pajamas too?

Kevin: I am not. What are you doing here anyway? The others will be back soon, I assume.

Aaron: Well, it’s my shift…

Kevin: Your what now?

Aaron: No, it’s not like that! We just… We thought you’d want some space because of… today… But then Abby… We didn’t want you to be alone.

Kevin: Really. Who’s “we”?

Aaron: The proud Palmetto State Foxes’ Exy team. All of them. You know, Dan, Matt, Renee, Allison, Andrew and Neil, Nicky… Me.

once again, Kevin can’t help but stare, deeply surprised

Aaron: Andrew and the others will be back for the whole night, but for now, it’s my turn. I wanted to take the first “watch”, but Allison said she had business to do with you. And I’m not getting in the way of that woman.

Kevin honest-to-God snorts

Kevin: If by “business” she meant bullying me into buying this onesie shit, then you should have gotten in her way. I’m not doing that. It’s fucking dumb.

Aaron: Hey!

Kevin: Aaron Minyard, don’t tell me you’ve participated in this madness…

Aaron: So what if I have? It wasn’t exactly on purpose, but I got one. And you don’t. So really, who’s dumb here?

Kevin: What is it??

Aaron: Not telling you.

Kevin: C’mon…

Aaron: Nope. You can’t bribe me. I’m not telling you shit. However, what I can telling you, is that it feels kinda wrong that we all have a pajama and you don’t…

Kevin: Oh my God, fine! What did the others get?

Aaron: Well, besides Ally’s giraffe, we got a tiger, a dinosaur, a teddy bear, you’ve seen Nicky’s unicorn nonsense, and I’m not quite sure about Andrew’s… Oh, and Neil’s is a fox, obviously. That predictable dumbass.

Kevin: Okay, well, I want a fox too.

Aaron: No, Kevin, you can’t.

Kevin: What? Why not!?

Aaron: Because. Neil’s already got a fox. Do you want to be a copycat AND a predictable dumbass?

and so until 1 AM, Kevin and Aaron bicker about each of Kevin’s suggestions (a Palmetto Foxes onesie, a USC Trojans onesie, an Irish-themed onesie, a white fox onesie, a gray fox onesie, and so on…)

when Andrew, Neil and Nicky come back into the dorm, Kevin’s almost laid all the way down on his bed, his head resting on Aaron’s elbow, as Aaron is sitting right next to him, laptop propped on a pillow and his fingers scrolling away

Aaron looks at Andrew, sighs, and looks at Kevin

they nod to each other, before Aaron gets up to go back to his dorm

Kevin sits up correctly when Aaaron is gone and Andrew approaches

Kevin pretends not to notice and googles one more idea, “brown fox onesie”

as he scrolls down and down and down, Andrew looks over his shoulder

and points at one picture

Andrew: That one. Now go to bed. We’re getting up at ass-o’clock tomorrow.

for the third time this evening, Kevin is shocked

he does look at Andrew’s pick attentively, though, and decides to go with it

that night, even if images of Abby covered in blood plague him for at least an hour, Kevin falls asleep to the memory of Aaron’s skin against his cheek, which somehow translates into dreams of Kayleigh resting both her hands on his cheeks as they sit in a field of wildflowers

a couple of weeks later, Kevin doesn’t tell the team his onesie has arrived

but he is forced to admit it when, for Halloween, they organize a huge party for themselves only, where they decided to wear their pajamas as costumes for the night

Kevin feels so stupid in his outfit

he even had to buy a LARGE because he’s so fucking tall

but it still feels… comfy… warm… not so bad…

maybe this can work for him…

it’s only when he steps into the girls’ living room that a problem arises

Aaron: What the fuck is this.

Kevin: Hum… A brown fox? Technically, Neil’s is orange, so you can’t shit on me!

Aaron: That- That’s not a fox, Kevin! What the fuck.

Kevin: Okay, well what are you then?? A mutant mouse?

Aaron: What are you- Oh my God, you don’t know what Pokemons are.

with that, Aaron turns around and yells for his twin

Aaron: ANDREW JOSEPH FUCKING MINYARD. YOU DID THIS ON PURPOSE, DIDN’T YOU? YOU BASTARD.

he storms off yelling

Kevin only reunites with Aaron at the end of the night, on the girls’ balcony, both sober

Kevin: You know, for someone who pushed me so much to do this stupid thing, you’re not being very nice about it. I know you wanted me to be “original” or whatever, but it’s not like I look like Neil! Why are you so upset?

Aaron: Kevin. It’s not a fox.

Kevin: Oh for God sake’s Aaron, you-

Aaron: It’s a Pokemon, Kevin. They’re like little monsters, kind of, and it’s a videogame, but there’s anime, manga, and collectible cards and… I used to- I used to collect those. Before. I lost them, now, but see this? This is one of them. It’s the main Pokemon, actually. His name’s Pikachu.

Kevin: Okay… Who am I, then?

Aaron: You… You’re Eevee.

Kevin: And what’s “Eevee”…?

Aaron: Pikachu’s girlfriend.

and oh.

Oh.

Kevin: Andrew didn’t tell me… The little fucker. I thought- Sorry. I didn’t mean to be another pawn in one of Andrew’s little games. Why did he do that to you?

Aaron: I think you know why.

Kevin looked at Aaron

Aaron looked at Kevin

Kevin: Fuck.

Aaron: Yeah, that.

Kevin: What?

Aaron: Nothing!

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin slowly invaded Aaron’s space until his back touched the railing, and placed one hand on each side of the backliner

Aaron looked up at Kevin

Kevin looked down at Aaron

Kevin: Okay?

Aaron: Okay.

and Kevin grabbed Aaaron by the hoodie of his pajama, and pulled him close, closer, closer, closer, until their lips met, at last

it was a long-awaited kiss, a careful kiss, a kiss of home and yes and oh and warmth and safe

Kevin reluctantly pulled away and rested his forehead on top of Aaron’s, knowing they have very little time before the other Foxes found them snogging on the balcony like a goddamn cliché

Kevin: Aaron.

Aaron: Kevin.

Kevin: I’m gonna ask you something stupid, and you can’t punch me for it, okay?

Aaron: Fine, okay.

Kevin: Do you want to be the Pikachu… to my Eevee?

Aaron: YOU FUCKING MORON!

and with that, Kevin burst out laughing, as if the Foxes’ attention wasn’t already on them the second Aaron started yelling

Allison and Matt knowingly started whooping with their beers raised for a toast

Dan was facepalming hard, shaking her head, but smiling nonetheless

Renee smiled her genuine, angelic smile while clapping Nicky on the back as he choked on his drink

Neil, arms crossed, watched the scene unfold with contentment

and Andrew. Andrew had no reaction at all. at all.

he was looking at his nails, no knife in sight, no fucks given

which, in Andrew’s language, meant everything

and so that October 31st was one for the books, the books about the good days, the good feelings, the good memories

because the Foxes had those, too

Kevin Day had good days

Aaron Minyard had good days

Allison Reynolds and Renee Walker had good days

Dan Wilds and Matt Boyd had good days

Nicky Hemmick had good days

Neil Josten had good days

even Andrew Minyard had good days

God knows they deserve them

these onesies, as silly, as stupid, as corny, as childish as they may be, were a proof of that

a proof that the Palmetto State Foxes could be better, could do better, and could get better

[soulwillower]

tozier • ben hanscom

(ben hanscom x tozier!reader smut)

requested: okay so once regular requests open, here's my idea. so the reader and richie are siblings and they absolutely hate each other and to get under his sisters skin, he fucks her best friend. so in sheer anger she decides to fuck all of his

warnings: swearing, smut, unedited bc im a lazy asshole 

ok guys here’s part one of the new series! i’ll probably have to go back in and edit some stuff n probably change the name but lmk what u guys think and what u wanna see for the next parts :) 

[losers and reader are in college in this.]

2.8k words

♡

you know richie pretty well, if you say so yourself. hell, you grew up with him - you've known him your whole entire life and even now, as 19 and 20 year olds, you're still at each other’s throats constantly. 

naturally, growing up with richie as your brother was full of ups and downs - like the time that you were still a baby in your crib and he'd curiously wandered into your nursery and twisted your finger, causing it to break. or, that time when you two got into a fight over who took the last of the ice cream in the freezer and didn't speak to each other for almost three whole days.

but there were really good times, too - like when richie picked you up after your disastrous senior prom night and drank vodka with you in the back of his pickup truck while you threw rocks at the creepy house on neibolt street. or the time where you bought him a new pair of glasses so your parents wouldn't kill him for breaking them and he bought you ice cream for a month as a thank you. 

richie was the most frustrating, annoying, rude, arrogant older brother, and yet even when you were away at separate colleges, you talked on the phone almost every night.

you share one of those really, really competitive relationships - a lot of it, you’ve realized, stems from your parents constantly pitting you two against each other to vie for their attention and praise. but no matter, you still hated richie most of the time and he hated you just as much. 

but right now, you might fucking murder him.

you have so much hatred for him as you storm down your stairs, phone clutched violently in your palm as you stalk into the basement, hollering, "richard!" at the top of your lungs. it's a hot august afternoon and you've just come back from the pool with your best friend, now filled to the brim with white hot rage for your brother. 

when you'd been at the pool, cecily, your best friend, had stretched her neck and you'd noticed a hickey (naturally, you'd teased her about it). but when you pried, she got secretive and defensive until it finally slipped out that the boy she'd been with was none other than your gangly, stupid older brother, richie.

you were completely disgusted and beyond addled as to why she'd choose richie, of all people, but more than that you were extremely pissed and stormed off, driving home with knuckles tight against the steering wheel.

and now, as you make it down to the last step of the basement, you're aware that you're still in your bathing suit with shorts thrown haphazardly on top as you storm towards your fuckwit brother.

he and all of the losers he hung out with are down here, sprawled on the large sofas and on the floor in front of the tv. you don't dare break your eye contact with richie as you glare, face heated with anger.

"well hey there, little sis. what's got your knickers in a knot?" he says with a lopsided grin that you just want to punch clean off his face. he's sitting between ben and bill and you turn a little pink as you notice both boys’ eyes on your body. yet you barely think for a second before slapping richie straight across his cheek, hard. 

the slap is a sickening sound as it quiets the whole room - you can feel bev's eyes on you, hear eddie's short gasp, and see out of the corner of your eyes as stan turns his head to watch the scene. richie stares at you, hand on his cheek. "what the hell, y/n?" he asks with a glare as he stands up, rising to his full height above you. but you’re not afraid. 

"you talk to cecily today?" you ask with feigned sweetness, a sick smile on your face as you cross your arms. richie just blinks at you, mouth opening and closing like the dumbass he is. "how long have you been fucking her?" you ask when he says nothing.

the room bursts in exclamations after your words - from mike's "you didn't." to bill's "what the f-fuck is wrong with you, m-man?" and ben's, "oh my god, dude."

richie just shakes his head, looking way too casual as he places a hand on your shoulder with a grin, "y/n/n, can we talk about this later? we’re trying to watch jeopardy." he smirks, but you immediately shake his arm off, recoiling in frustration as you glare at him. "no, richie! you’ve been fucking my best friend! my ONLY friend!" you ask, shaking your head. “you’re such a shitty person, i fucking hate you. why did you do it?” 

 as you make eye contact, he sighs almost forlornly, as if he’s about to apologize. but this is richie, so of course he doesn’t. "....she's just so fuckin’ hot." he says with a grin. 

you take a sharp breath, rubbing your face with your hands as you back away towards the stairs.

"c'mon, sis! don't be so sensitive." he calls to your back and you can practically hear the nasty grin in his voice. you hear eddie hiss, "quit being a fucking asshole." to your brother and you want to scream. "don't fucking talk to me, richie." you snap as you make it up the stairs, ignoring richie as he laughs his stupid hyena laughter. 

you're finally changed out of your suit and into a shirt and shorts by the time you've calmed down enough to take a few deep breaths. a knock makes you jump, though, and you glare at the closed door. as you're about to yell for whoever it is to go away, you're stopped by a voice.

"hey, y/n." ben's voice sounds through the door, and it's almost shocking how quickly your shoulders relax. you smile shyly as you open the door, your heart beating wildly, this time not from anger but out of your proximity to ben.

ben hanscom had been your brother’s friend for a while, and you simply did not understand. all of them are jackasses, richie being the king of the pack, but ben really does seem to be so fucking genuine. maybe it’s because you’ve always had a small thing for him, but then again it may just be because you’re furious with richie. 

"hi, ben. sorry i was.... sorry about that." you say awkwardly as he walks into your room and shuts the door gently. he laughs quietly as he leans against your wall, looking down at you knowingly. "it's richie's fault. you have every right to be mad. he’s a dick sometimes"

you nod thoughtfully, touched that ben came to check in on you. "i know he is. you know, i'm not even mad that they had sex, honestly, i’m just mad because i know he did it to piss me off." you say, biting your lip as you stare up at ben, his hair glinting under the soft light of your lamp. 

ben nods as he reaches out to rub your shoulder, making your stomach flutter as you look up at him. "if i can be honest, you two have the weirdest relationship i've ever seen, y/n. i'm sorry he did that and didn’t tell you, that's really unfair."

you smile lightly at the floor where your feet point towards his. "well now i have, like, nobody to hang out with this summer." you mumble, thinking about how cecily is really your only friend from derry, and how all your college friends live hundreds of miles away.

you shrug, leaning into ben's touch. "you have me to keep me company, though." he says with a shy grin, cheeks heating up at your smile.

"oh, just you? i like the sound of that." you ask, lifting a brow playfully. he chuckles a bit at your look and it makes your chest flutter.

"yeah, of course you do, y/n." he says as he pulls you into a hug. he's warm and smells like cinnamon cologne and it makes your chest glow sweetly. you pull back only slightly, hands sliding up to his chest as you look into his golden eyes. "ben..." you whisper softly, eyes going down to his lips and then bouncing back up, not wanting to make a move if he's not comfortable with it.

he clearly is thinking the same thing, because you're both moving closer and closer, his hands lightly squeezing your hips as he stares at you with hooded eyes. "yeah?" he asks, just as quietly. you swallow, wanting nothing more than to just close the gap just to see what it'd be like. to have one of richie's friends, for a change.

you don't know how to initiate it, though. "do you want to-"

"yes." he rushes out quickly, apprehension only flashing across his face just after he'd rushed out the answer, in fear that you'd been overwhelmed by his enthusiasm. but it's enough for you, and you grin slightly before pulling him into a kiss.

his lips are hot on yours, your hair still drying from the chlorine at the pool as his fingers tangle in the strands. you moan a bit out of shock, having not kissed anyone in a while and feeling touch starved. his hands are strong and soft in all the best ways and you try not to smirk as you think about your stupid brother sitting in the basement, currently unaware of what you’re about to do with one of his best friends upstairs. 

but then, just as your hand slips to the hem of ben’s jeans, he pulls back a bit. “is this a bad idea?” he asks.

you sigh, looking away. “yes.” you say with barely any hesitation. “but i don’t fucking care.” you say honestly, and ben grins, “well, me neither. you’re...” he looks you up and down before smiling. “so fucking pretty.” he ends with and your stomach flutters, face growing hot at the compliment. 

"but i don't want to, like.... t-take advantage of this situation, or-" ben starts, but you shake your head, biting your lip as you stare at him. he's so fucking amazing, so caring. he's always been like this - respectful, considerate, and interested in your well being, which really just makes you want him even more.

"no, ben, i... i really want this. if-if you do too." you say honestly, fiddling with your fingers as you watch him through your lashes. he grins as he nods. "you sure?"

you giggle, pulling him towards you by his neck. "yes. are you, ben?" you ask as he leans down closer. "definitely." he whispers against your lips, his breath coming out in a short huff. and then his lips are on yours, pressing strongly and fully as you stumble a bit, grasping him tightly as you kiss back.

he presses you against him, hand at the small of your back as he moves his tongue deftly against your lip, exploring your mouth as you suppress a moan. one moment later, you pull back a bit.

"you're not..." you trail off, and he shakes his head. "no, are you?" he asks, and you also shake your head as you cup his cheek and pull him back in for a kiss. "me neither." you mutter, falling back down onto the mattress, hand blindly fumbling around inside your bedside drawer for your box of condoms.

he's kissing down your neck, his hands palming your breasts softly as you finally pull one out and set it beside you, wrapping your arms back around his neck.

he grinds slowly against you and you let out an embarrassedly loud moan at the friction against your clothed clit. he's already pretty hard and your mind flickers to the basement, how chilly it had been against your skin and how your swimsuit top probably didn't leave much to the imagination as you'd stood right in front of him. it makes you giddy at the thought of ben's eyes on you, his mind drifting to what you'd look like underneath him.

which is where you are right now, as he rolls the condom onto himself and pumps slowly. you kick your shorts and underwear off, aching and dripping with need as he slides between your legs, bracing himself with one arm above you.

"ready?" he asks softly and you let out a strangled whimper as you feel him line up at your entrance, teasing your folds a bit and making your hips buck. "yes." you say, staring deep into his eyes.

ben grasps your hand then, steading both you and him as he eases into you, sinking slowly and letting out a shuddering breath. you let out a small whine at the feeling of ben stretching you out, having been too antsy and not having enough time or patience for foreplay. once he's fully inside you, he kisses your cheek and gives you a few moments to adjust as you breathe into his neck.

and then he starts to move, his hips rolling slowly as he fills you up and hits a perfect spot inside you, your toes curling almost immediately. "oh god, ben." you moan out and that makes his hips move fluidly as he thrusts into you, kissing your neck softly as you whimper in pleasure.

the hand that isn't steadying himself above you holding your hand dances around you; exploring your curves, fingers lightly tracing over the stretch marks on your hips and then his palm sliding to caress your sides, his touch making your skin feel on fire.

after a few more minutes, he picks up the pace, hips angled slightly deeper and making your toes curl. he starts to moan every few thrusts, right into the shell of your ear, and it pushes you closer and closer to that feeling growing in your abdomen.

"shit, y/n, i'm already close." he mutters, eyes closed in bliss as he leans his head back slightly, the sight heavenly to your eyes. and you don't even blame him because he's probably just as pent-up as you are and you know this has to be quick or else richie will come up, wondering why ben was taking so long to ask if you're okay.

so you lean up a bit as he thrusts into you and you attach your lips to his neck, sucking lightly enough that it won't mark. "so am i." you say breathlessly as you move your hips, chasing the high that's building deep inside you.

you press your hands to his chest, stopping his motions momentarily. "let me ride you." you say breathlessly and his eyes widen with something akin to hunger as he pulls out of you, rolling onto his back with a shocked look. you smirk as you climb back onto him, straddling him as you pump him a few times. he bites his lip as you sink yourself onto him, moaning and covering your mouth so as not to carry the sound all the way to the basement.

as you start to bounce, you smile, realizing that you're not at all insecure in front of ben - his hands are all over your body, running over and gripping the plush skin as you sink onto him, taking him perfectly. he's groaning and moving his hips with yours as you mouth wet kisses over his chest and neck.

ben lets out a moan that pushes you near the edge as you pick up the pace, his cock hitting a new spot inside you that has you whimpering. as his hands fall to move your hips with his, squeezing your soft thighs tightly, you hit your high.

you tremble as the feeling of him inside you makes you clench hard, your eyes squeezing shut in bliss as you moan out, "ben!"

your hips stop moving as you ride out your high, only making small movements as you clench around him in complete pleasure. he groans below you, eyes still shut as he juts his hips upwards, taking over to chase his own orgasm.

and his hips start to stutter a few thrusts after as you slump on his chest, one hand on your tits and the other on your hips to move you with his thrusts. he cums a few moments later with a moan that is muffled by your hair, his hands sliding down to your ass, your lips on his collarbone.

after a few moments, you roll off of him and sigh, shocked and unsure as to if that really just happened. you're embarrassed at how quickly he made you cum - you want to blame it all on the fact that it has been quite some time since you'd had sex, but it really was the thrill of hooking up with him, especially because your brother was just downstairs.

ben's cheeks are red as he sits up quickly, pulling on his boxers and then his pants, only looking at you after he tugs the hem of his shirt down. "um, i would totally stay, but-"

you shake your head with a grin, "no, i get it. this was... just a spur of the moment thing."

he beams at you, seemingly relieved that he wasn't hurting your feelings - that was amazing and you're both glowing in your post-orgasm high, but you both know that this was a one-time thing. he pecks your cheek sweetly and as he turns to leave, you mutter, "wait!"

he lifts a brow as he turns to you and you run your fingers through his hair a few times to make it look the way it did before he came up here. "thanks." he says with a grin before he disappears, closing the door behind him and making you get dressed with red cheeks in silence.

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