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eightmakesonebraincell · 3 months

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ateez as pirates who fall for you (hyung line)

read maknae line here

genre: pirate!ateez x gn!reader (fem!reader for hongjoong), fluff, angst, crack, and as always - a brainrot of every pirate trope to exist

length: 10.4k

c/w: heavy and mature themes - mdni, explicit language (swearing, insults), death, violence, blood & injuries, weapons, illegal acts (piracy, ransoming, verbal abuse, abduction), alcohol, pet names

a/n: maknae line will come yes but who knows when 🤷‍♀️ work has been really testing my dopamine vibes this year 😔👎 thank you @sorryimananti-romantic for keeping a detailed hitlist for me ♡

hongjoong

pov: you're a royal princess rescued by him

“captain, are you sure we can’t toss her overboard?”

jongho and hongjoong watch as wooyoung’s face falls after you pointedly ignore his attempts to make conversation once again

for someone who is technically their guest aboard the arriba, it seems as though you are hellbent on being as difficult as you can be

“unfortunately, we can’t,” hongjoong grouches to the younger, “not unless we want to exchange our payment for a hefty bounty on our own heads”

when jongho sighs, the captain squeezes his shoulder in comfort and adds on, “trust me, i’ve thought about it too”

hongjoong and his crew are privateers - pirates in theory, but technically excused so long as they have their letter of marque to state that they are authorised to attack other vessels

rescuing a royal princess was never explicitly part of the contract, although he thinks that not rescuing you would have pretty much been equivalent to a blatant show of insubordination

you had been taken ransom by one of the merchant ships the arriba had been plundering

needless to say, they had been close to tossing you overboard too; your kingdom had never paid for your ransom

the lack of response from your parents wasn’t anything you weren’t expecting but it’s a sore spot nonetheless

so it’s certainly hard for you to play friendly when you’re quite literally shucked off from stranger to stranger faster than a hot potato

san tugs wooyoung closer towards him and gently says to you, “he’s just trying to be nice - we all are”

the movement doesn’t go unnoticed by you

“i don’t need your pity,” you answer, the only sentence you have spoken today

you’ve lived two decades of your life pretending you don’t see the pitying gazes of your maids and butlers

you certainly don’t need pity from these people - pirates no less

“it’s not-” wooyoung starts to say

but the captain steps in before he can defend himself

“if this is how you’re always acting, i’m starting to see why your kingdom never paid for your ransom”

had hongjoong been less preoccupied by your words, he would have realised that your tone is candid, as if it is only natural for the people around you to pity you

but he’s clouded with his mindset as captain, unable to stand by idly while his own crew put up with your attitude, and so the words come out anyway - shards of shrapnel that bury themselves into your heart

there is only a fleeting second when your eyes dilate with hurt

you conceal it immediately, replacing it with a steely gaze, yet the image has already seared itself into hongjoong’s mind

“maybe you should throw me overboard, then,” you counter, “i’m sure my family will thank you for it”

and even if you have completely neutralised your expression, no one misses the wounded tone of your voice before you disappear down into the lower deck

mingi lets out a low whistle after the resounding slam of the hatch closing

“you fucked up, captain”

hongjoong doesn’t need anyone to spell it out for him

the heavy feeling in his stomach is telling enough

it isn’t until the moon has long since risen that you emerge through the hatch again

you had bypassed the sleeping quarters to the hold, wedging yourself between barrels of grain until you were sure no one would find you

not that they would have tried to anyway - seonghwa had told them all to give you some space

you had run your finger up and down the sides of the barrels repetitively for hours on end, mind simultaneously void and filled with thoughts

the walls you had built around yourself kept you safe, but it had started to become awfully lonely after a while

when it had become a little too suffocating in the hold and you guessed that most of the crew was asleep, you had softly padded back up the stairs and across the main deck

you now sit on the foredeck where the endless expanse of the sea stretches out in front of you, closing your eyes and letting the swaying of the ship lull you into tranquillity

tonight, the moon winks down fondly upon the waters

hongjoong watches you from the quarterdeck

he’s seen you sit at the front of the ship on many nights when you should really have been asleep

he wonders if you’ve always looked so small and fragile with your knees drawn up to your chest, or whether it’s because the flash of hurt in your eyes and voice is still fresh in his mind

“go, captain,” yunho murmurs from where he’s at the helm, “it’s a quiet night”

hongjoong startles at having been caught gazing, clearing his throat and dragging his eyes away

“why should i, if she’s just going to ignore me?” he scoffs

but he knows he’s just being petty at this point and his chest churns in agreement

“maybe,” yunho hums softly in response. “did seonghwa ever give up on you, though?”

it’s rhetorical - hongjoong knows the answer better than anyone

the captain doesn’t say anything but after several beats of silence, he sighs and makes a move to the foredeck where you are

yunho smiles to himself

you and hongjoong may be more similar than his captain realises

your shoulders stiffen when the sound of hongjoong’s footsteps approaches

you’re not sure what to expect and you don’t exactly want to find out and risk getting hurt

but having spent all day swimming alone in your thoughts, you do want to show that you feel apologetic because admittedly, you were being an ass too

getting up to walk away when he’s taken the first step certainly won’t help your case

you hold your breath in awkward silence as he settles down beside you, leaving a respectable distance between your hunched figures

only now is hongjoong realising that he hasn’t actually thought about or decided on what he wants to say to you

but he can feel the confusion rolling off of you in waves, so he grits his teeth and says fuck it

“i won’t apologise for defending my crew, but i’m sorry for how i did it and for what i said”

he hopes you know he is sincere when he continues, “we all have our prickly edges. i can’t fault you for yours”

compassion is a foreign concept to you and so you’re a little stumped for words

hongjoong isn’t sure whether your silence is a good or bad thing, but you have yet to stand up and walk away from the conversation

“there’s only about a week left until we reach port and we’ll leave after you make it back to your kingdom and we receive our payment. i’m not asking for you to be friendly, but let’s at least be civil with each other until then,” he says

you want to nod, agree, anything

and yet you can’t seem to make your head move or the words to come out of your mouth

rome was not built in a day. but neither did its walls fall in a day

hongjoong doesn’t push for an answer when instead, you ask, “how many people have you actually tossed overboard before?”

he resists the urge to laugh at your question, suddenly endeared by the fact that you’re still bothered by his very empty threat

“none, but my offer still stands. you’re welcome to be my first,” he deadpans

you let out a snort and although you quickly turn your head away, hongjoong sees the hint of amusement in your eyes

no further words are exchanged between the two of you and you do not acknowledge him when he eventually stands to rejoin yunho at the helm

but it’s a start

and as with any relationship, be it friend, foe, or lover, there is always that

a beginning.

hongjoong isn’t really expecting much to change immediately so he doesn’t pay you much mind when you walk into the mess hall the following morning

you hesitate at the entrance when you see most of the crew are already present, the conversation you had with hongjoong last night replaying at the forefront of your mind

you chew on the inside of your mouth

wooyoung stops mid-conversation at the scrape of a plate on the table, looking up to find you sliding into the seat beside him with a tight-lipped smile

to your surprise, he greets you with enthusiasm and immediately drags you into the conversation

hongjoong watches as you slowly warm up and add one or two comments of your own in between bites of your hardtack

and when he catches your gaze after staring for too long, he gives you a smile to convey his appreciation; to acknowledge your efforts

you return it with a small smile of your own and unbeknownst to you, it stays on your face for the rest of the day

slowly, there become more and more reasons that elicit a smile out of you

you still sit out on the foredeck when everyone else has gone to sleep, but on most nights, hongjoong will join you even if just for a while

the two of you are content to sit side by side with nothing but the steady pulse of the ocean and intermittent creaks of the ship’s hull to break the silence of the night

tonight though, you find curiosity burning through you

“what’s it like?” you ask

“being a pirate?” he clarifies

you shrug vaguely, unsure yourself either, “being a pirate. being at sea. sailing with your crew”

he takes a moment to gather his thoughts - not because he doesn’t know what to say, but because there is too much he wants to say

when hongjoong answers, his voice rumbles softly from within his chest, tender and heartfelt

“there’s a sense of freedom that you can’t obtain when you’re bound to land and society. sailing the waters, the only limits are those of the open seas and of your own compass… the sunrises, the storms, the moonlight - it all becomes part of your home”

hongjoong leans back to rest on the palms of his hands, tilting his gaze up towards the twinkling sky

he reflects, “you experience brotherhood and gain a family that is worth multitudes more than the treasures you can accumulate, even if you were to live as a pirate for several lifetimes”

you’re enraptured by his words, like poetry that swirls off the pages of a book and drifts into your very soul

“i may be the captain of this crew, but they make me who i am. without them, i am nothing”

his words wash over you and unearth vivid memories

“that’s what the queen always says to me,” you reveal

a small smile starts to grace hongjoong’s face, but it falls just as quickly when he hears your next words

“that without her - without her title - i am nothing”

it’s funny, how the same phrase can hold such different meanings; can evoke such different emotions

you don’t elaborate any further, but hongjoong doesn’t think he needs you to in order for him to understand

he just wishes he had more time to show you that your mother is wrong

he can’t though

tomorrow they reach port and you will return to your rightful place in the palace

“tell me more about your crew,” you attempt to change the topic, “how did you all find each other?”

so hongjoong tells you

he talks for hours and hours and you listen all the while with a heavy heart, clinging onto his every word

on your final night, you two stay like that until the stars disappear and the horizon becomes streaked with the pale hues of sunrise

after the ship docks mere hours later, only hongjoong accompanies you to your kingdom after goodbyes are exchanged

wooyoung doesn’t take it well, and you find yourself holding back tears of your own as you are let through the palace doors with the captain by your side

but you blink them away when you approach the throne room because vulnerability is not an emotion you are willing to display

“y/n”

the queen addresses you curtly when you enter, and hongjoong wonders for a split second whether he has brought you back to the wrong kingdom

he knows your mother does not treat you fondly, but it’s still staggering to see it before his very own eyes

the monarch glances distastefully over him before her eyes flicker back to you

“i did not expect your return,” she states

your eyes remain impassive as you merely answer, “neither am i delighted to be back”

hongjoong recognises this look

he’s seen it when you first boarded his ship; he’s seen it when your hackles were raised

he’s seen it in himself, when he had been a teenager filled with nothing but growing resentment, before he had met seonghwa

your mother sneers, “then you should have made yourself useful and stayed with the pirates. as a whore or a dog, whatever it took.”

hongjoong has understood you since learning of your demons, but right now, he is you

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, standing before a couple who are his parents only by title

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, who doesn’t know what he has done that deems him undeserving of love

he sees fifteen-year-old kim hongjoong, all alone with no one to take his hand

“or really, you should have died on the ship”

hongjoong is close enough to you to hear the small hitch in your breath at your mother’s final jab

he may not have had someone to save his younger self, but he can do that now

he can be the person he so desperately needed years ago

and so he does just that.

hongjoong grabs your hand and drags you out of the palace

no one stops the two of you from leaving and he is unsure whether his heart hurts for you or sings with relief

you can only stutter in shock as you try to keep up, “hongjoong, what about your payment?”

his determined steps do not slow down, even as he looks back at you with a sure smile, “i told you before. some things are worth more than money”

the comforting squeeze of his hand conveys that you are worth more than any amount of money

the form of the arriba grows bigger in the distance and you think you can see the movement of excitement on deck when the crew spots your figures

hongjoong has slowed down his steps, but he has yet to let go of your hand

“and you deserve to know that. welcome to the crew, y/n”

to a family and love that you never had

you think you like the sound of that

“thank you, captain”

seonghwa

pov: you're a royal navy officer in disguise

you lay awake in your hammock, listening to the soft snores of the crew members around you

sleep doesn’t come easy to you anymore

particularly tonight

you contemplate whether it’s worth the risk to simply not show up

you know what the consequences are if they capture you - a slow and painful death - but you’re unsure whether you want to put ateez on the line too

your ship is currently docked for the night, having made a port stop at alcarres following one of the crew’s wishes to retire the pirate lifestyle and settle in the small town

their last night with ateez had been celebrated with sloshing rum and rowdy jigs, something you had found strange

there’s none of that in the royal navy

when one leaves, it is shameful and through one of three options only; old age, crippling injury, or…death

you had asked seonghwa, the quartermaster, why he and the captain were so accepting when crew members left as they wished

he had simply smiled and answered, “better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew”

his words are like a sharp stone in your shoe as you finally slip out of your hammock and make your way off the ship

as ordered, you head to the tavern addressed

you salute the person in front of you and ease into your seat with a formality only when he disregards you

“admiral jang”

“you’re late,” the royal navy officer raises an eyebrow

“sorry, sir. i had to make sure everyone was asleep”

it’s not exactly the truth, but no one needs to know that you had spent an hour in your hammock questioning your morality

he ignores your excuse, jesting as he asks of your captain, “has the pirate king found the chart’s whereabouts yet?”

the charts

centuries ago, a crew of experienced sailors had travelled the six great seas and created the original navigational charts

the charts had become scattered and lost over time, but its value only increased exponentially as more and more sailors became victims to the sea trying to map its waters to the same detail and accuracy as the original charts

of the six originals, only the whereabouts of five are known, with most of them within the possession of the royal navy

it’s rumoured that hongjoong - the pirate king - has his hands on two of them and is currently tracking down the lost chart of the aurorian sea

the only sea that has yet to be chartered after its original map due to its dangerous and unpredictable sailing conditions

you know that your next words can hold an inexplicable amount of possibilities

“not yet. the last lead didn’t get him anywhere. turned out the last of the ahn clan had passed a decade ago”

his lips flatten at the lack of worthwhile information

“where’s the captain headed to next, then?” he probes

for a split second, the thought of lying crosses your mind

you can’t provide a different location - it would be much too obvious and would raise immediate suspicions

but you could give him a different time frame

after all, it’s not uncommon for navigational routes to be one to two weeks off should the waters be unpredictable enough

you find the truth spilling out of you anyway once you’re looking into his stone-cold eyes

“vlasgar. in about three weeks’ time”

for a moment, time stands still as your heart pounds and you attempt to slow your breathing, the officer staring back at you calculatingly

then he finally hums in satisfaction

you think that he is going to dismiss you, but as you make a move to leave, he leans back in his seat

the split second of hesitation was enough

“remember where your loyalty lies, y/n”

the air feels cold with the underlying threat

seonghwa’s words flit through your mind

better a small but loyal crew than a large and unpredictable crew

you swallow, “of course, admiral”

and then you’re dismissed with a nod

the unsettling feeling follows you all the way back to the ship and every miniscule creak of the floorboards underneath you seems to be amplified in the silence

you let out a short gasp of surprise when you’re about to climb back into your hammock, only to see seonghwa blinking blearily at you

“couldn’t sleep ‘gain?” he mumbles

you choke out a response, “yeah”

“i’ll make you tea b’fore you sleep ‘morrow,” his words slur with sleepiness

“okay,” you whisper

but you know it won’t make a difference

after all, there’s no remedy for guilt

it continues to fester the next day, as you linger outside the captain’s quarters

you can’t remember why you had come down to the lower deck, but it doesn’t matter now, not with seonghwa and the captain discussing what you think is related to the aurorian chart

“do you think he’s still in vlasgar?”

“min taesoo? it’s hard to say. but i’m sure he’ll have acquaintances still on the island who may have an idea of where he’s gone”

min taesoo

your brain tries to carefully file the name away, knowing that it’s what admiral jang would want to know, but at the same time, your heart tries to pretend it doesn’t know what you have heard so that you can forget about it

you find yourself scratching the name onto a scrap of paper anyway

unbeknownst to you, at the almost-imperceivable sound of your footsteps walking away, the two men behind the doors share a look

the crew sets sail again in the afternoon towards the next destination - vlasgar - and the scrap of paper in your pocket weighs you down so heavily that you feel off-kilter as you absentmindedly follow jongho up into the rigging to unfurl the sails

you’re near the top of the ropes when a sudden wave lurches the boat to starboard

it’s only a small push, really, but with your mind elsewhere, it catches you off guard and you miss your next step

the feeling of your hand dislodging from the sudden drag of your body weight brings you back to the present with a yell of surprise

(whether it’s your own or jongho’s, you can’t remember)

your sailing experience takes over and you try to swing your body back towards the safety of the rigging

you barely manage to grasp the ropes again but your hands slip down with your weight until they hit the next knot, the hot rush of friction threatening your grip

with adrenaline rushing through your body, you shakily climb back down, where there are several pairs of hands waiting to help you down the rest of the rigging

seonghwa’s hands do not leave you even after your feet are planted on the deck again

dread and shame heat the back of your neck and curl around onto your cheeks, knowing that a mistake like the one you had just made - accidental or not - would lead to a punishment like confinement in the lower deck back in the royal navy

except, when an apology starts to form on your lips, seonghwa bursts out in dismay

“y/n, your hands!”

you let out an unintelligible noise as seonghwa gently turns your palms over and you realise that the ropes have grazed some of the skin off

“it’s fine,” you want to say

but you’re silenced when he leads you to the small sick bay on the orlop deck

even if there is no surgeon on board, there is a small chest fastened to the wall that is home to their few and valuable medical supplies

you sit as he fusses over you with alcohol and strips of cloth

although he does a good job of wrapping your hands, your insides start to bleed with how intensely guilt eats away at you, like a maggot deep inside the core of a festering apple

that night as you shuffle towards your hammock to sleep, you flinch when you find seonghwa already sitting in his

he’s fighting the heaviness in his eyes as he carefully cradles something

upon seeing you, he wordlessly hands it to you with a sleepy smile before he finally sags into his own hammock with a content sigh

you look down and the warmth of it seems to burn through the padded dressing that the man before you has tenderly wrapped around your palms

the sensation travels upwards to burn your heart too

because in your hands is a cup of warm chamomile tea

and yet, despite the emptied cup, you find yourself unable to fall asleep

but in the darkness of the sky, with no witnesses other than the waves and sea foam themselves, a small piece of crumpled paper gets tossed overboard that night

the closer their ship approaches vlasgar, the more distant seonghwa notices you become

he worries

seonghwa thinks he worries for the reasons that he should be

he is the quartermaster; entrusted to protect the crew as the captain’s right-hand man

if that means ensuring no one will compromise the rest of his crew, even if it’s you, then so be it

that’s what he justifies to himself as he walks through the cobbled streets of vlasgar, slinking through the shadows as he follows your figure from a safe distance

(in reality, seonghwa worries for the reasons that he is not quite ready to admit yet)

he follows you into the dim bar of a tavern and carefully situates himself where he can watch over you without being discovered

he orders a mug of common ale as you approach someone

the man is dressed in civilian attire, but seonghwa can tell straight away from his demeanour and expression that he is not as ordinary as he appears

it’s confirmed when he hears you say, “admiral jang”

and then he sees it

the small but striking lapel pin on the breast of the man’s coat - the royal navy’s insignia

seonghwa feels for the sash that’s hidden underneath his own jacket and his fingertips meet the cool metal of the pistol tied inside

“you better have updates for me, y/n. what’s the pirate king’s purpose here in vlasgar?”

seonghwa knows he only has about five seconds to make a decision - one that could jeopardise the crew, or one that could jeopardise you

but you surprise yourself and the both of them when you answer steadfastly, “i don’t know, sir”

despite the din of drunker patrons in the tavern, it seems to fall deathly silent

“am i hearing wrong, officer?” the admiral questions with a disbelieving scoff

to your credit, your voice does not waver when you state again, “no, sir. i believe the captain and quartermaster are lying low. they have not revealed anything to me nor the rest of the crew”

seonghwa suddenly understands why you have distanced yourself

the admiral’s jaw tics

“is that so.”

you do not respond, only focusing on the spot between his raised eyebrows as he leans forward across the table

“where does your loyalty lie, y/n?”

neither the admiral nor seonghwa need to hear your answer to know the truth

a small crew may be outnumbered, but they have strength in loyalty and devotion

there’s a glint of movement from underneath the table as the admiral inches something out from his belt

seonghwa makes his decision

you flinch, eyes wide as there’s a deafening gunshot and the table beside you splinters and scatters the tankards of alcohol onto the floor

instantaneously, chaos erupts

there are drunken yells of fright and weapons clumsily brandished, tables upturned and chairs hurled across the room

it only takes one other misfired shot for the tavern to descend into hellfire as customers who were previously drinking together now turn on one another

nobody notices the two pirates dashing out, not even admiral jang, who is busy wrangling two inebriated men off his arms

your composure dissolves the moment you are dragged into an alleyway several streets away and you look up in shock to discover-

“seonghwa?! why are you here?”

“i could say the same about you,” he counters, hardly out of breath

you’re stunned by the fact that he seems completely unfazed by the mess that he has just dragged you out of

something clicks

“was that you? did you know all along?”

seonghwa smiles, “let’s just say you’re not as subtle as you think you are when you sneak around. plus, it’s uncommon for sailors to have the experience that you do without having had some sort of training”

you curse under your breath and wince, “does hongjoong know too?”

the quartermaster nods and you fear the answer to your next question

“then why has he not…why have you not…”

“killed you yet?” seonghwa chuckles. “i’m sure you’ve realised by now how skewed the royal navy’s beliefs are”

you’re quiet

the royal navy has always been cult-like in preaching the ruthlessness and barbarism of pirates, drilling into the officers the belief that pirates are the scum of the sea

but everything that you’ve known has been proven false since you’ve joined ateez; ironically, the pirates are more humane than the royal navy themself

their crew stand at attention whenever hongjoong or seonghwa walk onto the deck - not out of cultivated fear but genuine respect

when jongho is sore and tired from handling the riggings on a particularly rough and windy day, the others will offer to cover for his chores instead of flogging him into submission

and when mingi is divvying up the shares of the provisions and loot, the others will slip an extra bar of soap for seonghwa, the shiniest ring for mingi, or the largest bottle of rum for yunho, because they want to make each other happy

“hongjoong is the pirate king, yes, but a king should not take the lives of others for his own power. a true king uses his power to change the lives of others for the better…like yours…and like mine”

you frown with a jerk of your head

“what do you mean?”

you can’t see seonghwa as a broken man whatsoever

he gives you a weak smile, “i, too, used to be part of the royal navy”

your jaw drops

everything clicks into place - how he had figured out you weren’t just a common sailor and why he hadn’t confronted you about it

the shame and guilt come rushing back over you in a storm that is much too familiar by now

“i’m so sorry, all i’ve done is betray your trust-”

“but that’s what second chances are for, no?” seonghwa cuts you off, playfully flicking your forehead as he reminds you, “and i’m pretty sure you’ve chosen me over the royal navy”

your cheeks grow hot

“not you. the crew,” you mutter

he laughs and it’s a wonderful sound

“come on, it’s late,” seonghwa beckons. “let’s get some sleep”

when he sees that you’re still rooted to the spot, unsure whether you are deserving to go back, he decides for you and moves behind you to gently nudge you forward by the shoulders

you let him guide you

his hands are warm, you note, even through the linen of your shirt

his hands are also pretty, you observe, when he tries to fluff your hammock once you two have crept your way back to the berth

seonghwa helps you up into the hammock and you watch as he climbs into his

his hands are also teeming with love, you realise, when he wordlessly extends his arm nearest to you in a silent invitation

if you both reach out, you can just entwine your hands together from your respective hammocks

the burns on your palms have healed nicely and without the need for them to be wrapped, you can feel every expanse of his hand covering yours

he doesn’t retract his hand and neither do you, even though it’s not the most comfortable position and you both lose feeling of your arms soon after

but you lay in your hammock, drifting to the soft snores of the crew members around you and the soft tug of seonghwa’s fingers in yours

sleep comes easy to you

particularly tonight

as it will for the rest of your life

yunho

pov: you're the crew's navigator

you know it’s going to happen even before it actually does

you can feel it in the air and from the way the baby hairs around your hairline start to frizz

but you never say anything because you wouldn’t trade it for the moment when the first raindrop hits the back of yunho’s neck and he abandons his duty at the helm to drag you out onto the upper deck

(hongjoong only sighs in defeat before he stations himself at the helm instead)

you don’t like the rain

not like yunho does

you are already looking up from the map spread out in the captain’s quarters, a knowing smile on your face just from the sound of his bounding footsteps alerting you of his presence, when yunho appears with the beckon of rain

you pretend to let yourself be dragged to your feet along to his urges of come on!

but then you dash forward towards the hatch with yunho chasing after your bright laughter

in the short span of time that it has taken him to fetch you, the sprinkle of rain has steadily grown and the weathered planks of the deck are already a dark grey

you feel the coldness of the raindrops hitting the crown of your head and the spreading chill as your clothes start to become damp

but that’s not what makes you feel alive

yunho catches up to you easily and then he is snaking his arms around your waist to lift you up into the air

you barely have time to squeal and steady yourself on his broad shoulders before he is spinning the two of you around, the world blurring away as the spotlight shines on him and he is all that you can see

the deck is your stage and the sea is your audience

rain with yunho is twirling hugs, tiptoed kisses and tinkling laughter. it’s soaked shirts and rosy cheeks and the only thing that matters in the moment

you don’t like the rain, but it’s easy to like the rain when it’s with him

(hongjoong lets the two of you be - so obviously and hopelessly enamoured by each other - because when one sees people in love, one cannot help but watch and smile)

the rain eventually peters out and you and yunho must return to your respective duties, but not until you two have changed out of your drenched clothes and sneaked in a few more kisses

a few hours later, you hear the racket above the deck as a ship pulls up beside the arriba and ropes are thrown across from both sides to lash the vessels close together

hongjoong comes down to join you in his quarters, but he’s not alone

behind him is the captain of the silver light, dae jihoo, and his quartermaster, with seonghwa entering last

you note that this crew doesn’t have a navigator of their own

but you suppose that’s one of the reasons why their captain had implored an alliance for this particular raid

the crew of the silver light are wanting to target the prosperity triangle - an area between three large ports that is frequently trafficked by wealthy vessels transporting valuable goods

it’s a raid that would prove difficult for a smaller pirate crew like your own and the silver light, and especially if they have no navigator

but it’s not uncommon for pirates to form temporary alliances for such purposes, and together, your crews have a good chance of plundering a fortune

you nod your head in acknowledgement when hongjoong introduces you to the two pirates as ateez’s navigator

you don’t miss the way jihoo’s eyes seem to linger on you for a second too long before he flashes a crooked grin and gestures towards the navigational map spread out on the oak table

clearing your throat of discomfort, you step forward and flatten the creases out with your hands

“this is the most open spot within the triangle that the vessel we’re after will pass through,” you tap an annotated spot on the chart, “and this is where we are now”

you slide your finger across, “we’ll follow the rhumb line west to avoid the shallower waters and when we can catch the trade winds, it should be smooth sailing from there”

jihoo challenges you, “how can you be sure we’ll catch the ship within the triangle?”

“they’ll need to sail past the equator and i’m almost certain their ship will be slowed down by the doldrums. we can easily gain knots on them”

he squints at the scribbles you’ve made noting down what you’ve gathered of the wind patterns

you know for a fact that it will mean nothing to him, but whatever he sees must satisfy him because jihoo appears to make up his mind

“when do we set sail?” he directs his question to your captain

“three days from now”

he grunts a noise of affirmation and stands, which hongjoong takes as the cue to see them and the rest of their crew off your ship

you trail behind the group as you all head back to the upper deck

you prepare to emerge from the hatch with a playful wink, knowing that yunho will be craning his neck from the helm to get a glimpse of you, when a sudden holler surprises you out of your thoughts

it’s immediately met with the answering cries of several other pirates - none from your crew - and you hurry to clear the hatch to gain your bearings

you’re thrust right into the throes of battle as ateez are forced to unsheathe their cutlasses to defend against silver light’s sudden attack

having been caught off guard, basically none of your firearms are loaded with gunpowder, rendering them unusable

you will have to make do with the short sabre at your waist

there’s no time to account for the whereabouts and safety of your crew members and you just have to pray that you all make it out of this unscathed

especially yunho

but as ateez retaliate, you all notice something is off about the situation

your crew is very quickly overpowering the other pirates - it was a losing fight for them from the very beginning

it makes no sense to you nor the rest of your crew

the losses of breaking the alliance before the planned raid, much less through betrayal, far outweigh any gains they could possibly make from their choice of action

it makes absolutely no sense

until it does.

you are blocking the swing of a sabre with your own when you are tugged backwards harshly by the collar of your shirt

there’s an angry snarl in your throat as you prepare to turn around, but it’s quickly silenced by the warning shot of a pistol right beside your ear

the cold ring of metal is then pressed to the back of your head

you know that firearms require time to reload and there’s a chance that this pistol is now useless

but, like wooyoung has taught the rest of the crew to do, they may have pre-prepared several pistols and you are not willing to play with fire - especially when you are only the flex of a finger away from death

you vaguely hear someone yell out your name in panic, but you’re not quite sure you hear correctly over the clamour of cutlasses clashing, warcries resounding and your own heartbeat pounding

“stand down or your navigator dies,” the voice behind you thunders

it’s jihoo…and he wants a navigator for his crew

“ateez,” one of your men commands, “lower your weapons”

your crew may make decisions fairly, but in battle, only hongjoong has the power to make commands

yunho has never spoken against his captain or disobeyed orders

until now

the words do not come out of your captain’s mouth but yunho’s

the rest of the members hesitate - they will not stand down unless hongjoong commands them to, yet, they are unsure whether they will be able to follow should he demand them to fight on, even if it means endangering your life

but there is no guarantee jihoo will let your crew go unharmed even after you all surrender, and as the captain, hongjoong must make decisions in the best interest for the crew

“captain!” yunho yells desperately

yunho never yells

“stand down,” hongjoong commands

silver light’s captain steps in closer behind you until you can hear and feel the noise of intriguement that leaves his mouth down the back of your neck

“that your loverboy, hmm?”

he smirks

there’s a false moment of primal relief when the press of the pistol is removed from the back of your head, but it is immediately replaced with fear that is irrevocably worse as he aims it in yunho’s direction and shoots

“no!”

you shriek and pull against the tug of his hold, still fisted around your collar, your pupils blown wide with terror at the sight of the clean hole in the mast right beside yunho’s head

“it’ll be pretty boy’s head next if you don’t come with me,” jihoo coos into your ear

the fight slips out of you immediately

because if you can save him, a life for a life, then you will

even if the sight of mingi holding yunho back from lunging forward when the pistol’s barrel returns to your head makes your heart clench painfully

“y/n, don’t you dare,” yunho pleads, voice filled with anguish

you’re barely given enough time to lock eyes with him and say resolutely, “remember what you said to me,” before you are tugged away to the boarding plank

ateez can only watch helplessly as the planks are removed from over the bulwarks and the last of the ropes are untied, releasing the silver light from their ship for good

jihoo tugs you down the hatch as the ship starts to pull away, and just like that, you’re gone from their sights

“fuck!” yunho shouts furiously, unable to contain his emotions as he turns around and connects his fist with the mast

right where the musket ball had made a hole

his hand pulls away with bloodied knuckles from the splintered wood and the sheer force of his punch

a concerned whine leaves seonghwa’s mouth and he tries to approach the taller, but yunho shakes him off and looks determinedly at hongjoong

“we’re sailing to the banver isle just east of the triangle. we’ll ambush them there”

seonghwa looks between the two, hope flickering in his chest at the potential plan, “you think the silver light are stupid enough to try taking on the prosperity triangle alone?”

yunho chuckles darkly, “they were fucking shitbrained enough to take y/n, so yes”

nobody disagrees and hongjoong smirks dangerously

“ateez, ready the sails for banver isle,” he commands. “prepare for battle”

because not only have the silver light taken you away from ateez, but they have also annihilated the light from yunho’s eyes

gone are his warm brown orbs - they are now black holes thirsty for retribution

there will be lives to pay and even that will not be enough for the void

unaware of what your crew is capable of, jihoo looks down at you with a triumphant leer

“you’ll navigate us to the triangle in three days’ time. don’t even think about lying - you’ve already shown me where the location is”

with an even nod you reply, “of course”

it’s true though - you have absolutely no intention of navigating them somewhere else

because you know yunho will be waiting there for you

amidst chaste kisses exchanged between plush lips cold from the rain, yunho tells you in a brief moment of seriousness

“don’t show them where the real location is,” his breath is warm across your cheeks. “you know the coastal island roughly ten nautical miles away? show them that instead”

you tilt your head to look up at him, “you think they’ll betray us?”

“no,” he reassures you with a deeper, slower kiss, “but we can never be too safe”

and even if your vessels miss each other this time, you have complete faith that yunho will sail to the very ends of the world just to find you

two days before the originally-planned raid, the arriba sails as closely to banver isle as possible without risking running aground

yunho has navigated the ship around the back of the isle so that the form of the rocky terrain conceals them from sight

once the anchor is lowered, the crew members use every ticking moment to make preparations

swords are sharpened and firearms cleaned

mingi distributes the gunpowder and ammunition, which is pre-loaded into muskets, pistols and swivel cannons ready to be engaged

the ship’s sails and riggings are checked and yeosang keeps a keen lookout in the crow’s nest

and it’s as if the world itself can sense the brewing storm that grows inside yunho

the sea is eerily still and silent, but the sky is an omen to something impending, its rolling clouds dark and angry with the threat of rain leering over the waters

yunho doesn’t actually like the rain

he only likes it because it’s with you

rain with you is barefoot dancing, breathless confessions and bashful giggles. it’s drenched locks and fluttering eyelashes and the only thing that exists in the moment

but as the profile of the silver light finally approaches the isle two days later, the heavens split open and you are not by his side

rain without you is falling pinpricks, frigid winds and flaunting mockery and yunho despises it with his entire being

at yeosang’s call of, “vessel approaching from starboard,” up in the lookout, yunho smothers the fervid desire to barrage the other ship with cannonballs like hail from hell; to unleash an inferno that blazes through their hull as he sadistically watches the crew jump for their lives

he stamps out the hunger to shoot the ones that make it into the sea, not to kill, only to maim and induce a long, painful struggle in the open waters until death becomes inevitable - until there is enough blood spilt that it becomes the only stench in the air that stretches across for miles

yunho leashes his monsters with an iron fist

because he will not do anything that could even remotely endanger your life

even if it means that he has to hold back - to sit and wait like prey instead of advancing on the other ship like a predator

at least not yet.

silver light do not know, but this is the calm before the storm

the heavens may be crying, the winds may be howling and the waters may be roiling

but this is nothing compared to yunho

yunho is a tempest of unparalleled rage and their ship is in the eye of his storm

as the bowsprit of the silver light starts to appear around the isle, the members ready their grappling hooks and yunho draws his cutlass with a menacing whisper of unsheathing metal

you are his treasure, and pirates never lose sight of their treasure

today…you return to him

yeosang

pov: you're a tavern keeper

watching the ale reach the brim of the tankard you are holding, you’re about to step away from the barrel when the voice of a patron sounds behind you

“‘scuse me, could i get a mint-”

you look up and turn around in confusion as their voice cuts off

only to have the question taken right from the tip of your own tongue as you’re met with the face of the person you had loved for years

the same person you have spent twice as long trying to forget

eyes searching each other’s in a surprised stupor, seeing kang yeosang standing right in front of you takes you back to those memories that you have tried to remember and simultaneously bury

it thrusts you headfirst into what used to be of your shared love - like the feathery remnants of a dream, so distant from the fingers of your consciousness, suddenly returning to vivid existence when you least expect it

“hey, mint leaf. i’m back”

yeosang at least has the perceptiveness to appear a little apologetic, immediately pulling you into a hug and pressing soft kisses against your hairline uncaring of the other people in the tavern

it’s been several weeks since you last saw him, and whilst he had warned you he would be gone for longer this time, you hadn’t expected it to mean two whole months

he’s a small merchant who also fishes along the coast to earn enough to make ends meets, so he’s often gone for a few days or a week or two

you knew what you were in for when you first made it official with him, but just because you become accustomed to something, doesn’t mean it gets any easier

and he’s never been gone for this long

something must have happened - something good - because he looks alive, cheeks glowing and eyes fiery

“i met the crew”

“the crew?” you ask, hands reaching for the bourbon to prepare him a drink as he lets himself behind the counter to stand beside you in your workspace

he nods excitedly, "wooyoung’s pirate crew, ateez"

you think you know where this is going to go and you hate that your stomach sinks at the thought of what your future may become, because yeosang looks so happy to tell you about this and a happy yeosang is all that you could ask for

“the captain offered me a position as their lookout”

you pick out your next words carefully as you hand him his finished drink - a mint julep with two sugar cubes, just the way he likes it

"aren't…isn't being a pirate dangerous?"

“not as dangerous as you might think, actually. they’ve been showing me the ropes the last couple of weeks and…and i think i want to join them. officially”

there it is

the forked end of the road

you wonder how far two people can keep walking with their hands intertwined before the distance becomes too great and they have to let go

his words become a little muddled when he goes on to tell you about how they divvied up their recent loot to include his share too

how he’s gained more money than he’s made from the last two years of working as a merchant and fisherman combined

if he joins his old friend and his crew, he could earn enough to buy his parents a proper house; earn enough to build you your very own tavern

you want to tell him that you don’t need the tavern, just him, but you also know just how important his family is to him

his filial desire to take care of his parents was one of the very reasons you fell in love with him in the first place

before you can say anything though, the tavern keeper is interrupting to let you know that your shift is over

yeosang immediately perks up and herds you out of the place, claiming that there is a new fishing spot he discovered that he has to show you

and so you sit while he rows his modest boat, only the splash of his oars disturbing the peaceful stillness that has settled over the waters as the sun dips below the horizon

the waning light casts a soft, warm glow over him, like a gentle kiss against his skin and birthmark

if angels graced the earth, there would be one sitting right in front of you

“i missed you, mint leaf,” he confesses, gaze shyly averted. “i thought about you when i was gone”

“did you think about showing me this place?” you feel a little breathless

he nods, “every single night”

and that’s enough for you

it feels like everything is okay again

it doesn’t matter if you’re standing at a forked road

you think that perhaps, for him, you can walk on an unpaved path - just so that you can keep holding his hand

“y/n”

yeosang’s voice is deep

the word sounds foreign to your own ears but you don’t dwell on it

(because if you do, you’ll wonder whether it’s because you’ve forgotten the sound of his voice or because you want to hear him calling you something else)

“what would you like to order?” you ask

(because it’s easier to pretend that he’s just another patron than to admit that he used to be all that you ever knew)

yeosang fumbles a little but then regains himself, “oh, um- just a mint julep, please”

you turn your back to him to prepare his drink, hands reaching for the barrels lined along the bottom shelves without needing to look

you’ve made this drink too many times to count

half of those times were in the safety of the darkness that midnight offered; when the tears could flow freely without anyone seeing

it’s only when you start to mix his cocktail that yeosang realises he didn’t ask for his sugar cubes, but he figures the drink will taste bitter tonight either way so he opts to watch you instead

he wishes that he could walk past the counter like he used to and wrap his arms around you

he wishes that he could whisper endearments into your ears and press them against your lips

he wishes that he could show you that he still loves you

“do you still love me?” your voice wavers with hurt as you stand in front of him

he’s finally back after being gone for four months this time and you hate this conversation as much as he does, but it was bound to happen eventually

yeosang pleads, “more than anything”

“then why does it hurt so much? loving you…and being loved by you”

he doesn’t have an answer

but god be damned if he doesn’t try to find a way to fix things

“tell me, mint leaf, what can i do?”

you blink back your tears furiously, having already made up your mind while he was still at sea

“let’s break up”

because in the end, unpaved paths have too many rocks, too many thorns and too many arched roots; they were never meant to be walked along

you pass yeosang his finished drink without another word and then move further down the counter to serve a different customer

his eyes linger on you wistfully before he tears them away from you

it’s a good thing his hair has grown long enough to cover his face when he looks down

because his eyes start to grow wet at the sight of the mint julep you have made him

with two sugar cubes in it, just the way he likes it

perhaps, once you’ve loved somebody, you never really stop loving them

yeosang shows up again the next day and seats himself at the bar

you don’t serve him though, actively avoiding his end of the counter and letting another of your staff tend to him

he orders his usual but he leaves out his request for additional sugar cubes

it feels wrong for him to order it from someone that isn’t you

but you’re watching out of the corner of your eye as the worker mixes the bourbon, sugar and water, topping it with a few mint leaves and then sliding it across the counter for him

you let out a little sigh, half amused, when he takes a small sip and smacks his lips together at the bitterness

you take two sugar cubes and drop it unceremoniously into his pewter cup before you realise what you’re doing

yeosang immediately seizes the opportunity to talk to you

“my crew’s docked for the fortnight…” he waits to see if you’ll respond. you don’t, but you also don’t move away, so he continues. “we’re making some repairs to the hull and sails before our next raid”

you have half a mind to walk away after you reply, “i didn’t ask”

he forges on regardless

“we’re going to work with another crew for this one. it’s going to increase our chances of a successful raid because-”

your voice comes out a little harsher than you mean for it to when you hiss again, “i didn’t ask”

yeosang’s mouth closes as he pulls away slightly, back straightening

then he says in a softer voice, “i’ve been doing well. wooyoung still takes care of me, even though i’m not new to the crew anymore. i also saw my parents today and they’re happily retired now…”

you don’t stop him from talking this time

because how many sleepless nights have you spent sitting outside your tavern looking up at the stars; how many times have you served a mint julep to a patron and accidentally added sugar cubes; how many moments have you been consumed by the thought of him, simply wondering if he is living well?

this is everything that you have ever wanted - yeosang in the flesh letting you know that, yes, he has been well

but it is also everything that you have ever feared - that he has been well even without you

you don’t know what to feel

“my parents asked about you,” he says gingerly. “how have you been?”

his voice is barely audible, as if he is afraid of what you might say

or perhaps, afraid that you might not say anything at all

“good. excellent,” you force a small smile, your eyes still focused on the mint leaves floating in his drink. you don’t think you can look at him. “i own this place now”

his body loses its tension, cheeks rounding as he looks at you with genuine relief

“that’s…that’s really good to hear”

his words sting

you are unsure if it stings your ego or if it picks at the wound in the shape of the person you have lost

but it hurts to know that he has worried over you in the exact same way you have over him, the whole time you two have been apart

you’re suddenly overwhelmed by the realisation and hot tears well in your eyes almost immediately

your bottom lip starts to crumple so you rush into the back room to escape

“y/n!” yeosang calls out after you, alarmed

when you don’t stop, disappearing into the storage, he jolts up from his seat and follows

your body shudders with every heaving breath you take, unable to stop yourself from crying even harder when you feel him tug you into his chest

you try to pull away but his sturdy arms tighten around you

yeosang refuses to let you go once more

“i hate you,” you sob, struggling against his hold as you hit his chest weakly

he hushes comforts against the crown of your head, soothing noises as he endures your fists

“you have every reason to”

yeosang holds back tears of his own

he feels your body gradually losing its fight, sinking into his embrace instead, hands desperately holding him close

your voice is so impossibly small when you tearfully confess, “but i still love you”

“oh, mint leaf,” he brushes the stray locks of hair away from your face and cradles your jaw tenderly, “i still love you, too”

he presses a soft kiss against your forehead, pulling away once only to reaffirm, “so, so much”

when he kisses you again, his lips taste salty against your own, but nothing has ever tasted sweeter than this

your breath no longer stutters but the tears continue to run down your face because your heart finally feels right after all these years apart

and yet-

you pull away

“we can’t do this”

yeosang feels his heart shattering

“why not? i don’t understand,” he whimpers

“you know why,” you say distressingly, “my life is here, yeosang. i can’t just leave and return whenever i want. but you, on the other hand? you can. you go where your crew goes - you belong with them”

“but my heart belongs to you. please, y/n,” he begs

his arms are still wrapped around you and you feel his desperation as his fingers cling onto you like a lifeline

you look earnestly into his bloodshot eyes, your own vision blurry, “yeo, you’re not the one who gets left behind here. you’re not the one who waits weeks, months, years on end, just hoping that the next person to walk in is the person that you want to see”

he wants to plead that he waits to see you, too, but he knows that he’s the one who leaves, too

“you’re the right one for me - the only one for me - but it’s not the right time,” you tell him gently

slowly, his arms lower themselves from around you

“it wasn’t the right time then and it isn’t the right time now,” he repeats, “then when is the right time for us?”

you shoot the question right back at him, “when is the right time for someone whose life is to sail the world?”

neither of you know the answer

nobody does, because loving a pirate has no certainties

but yeosang doesn’t give up

“if we can’t ever be sure, why don’t we just make it the right time ourselves?”

you caress his cheek sweetly, and despite having stepped away from you earlier, he leans into your hand, starved of your loving touch and affection

“yeosang…what if we’ve already had it? what if…meeting each other was already it? what if we’re just meant to love from a distance, not side by side?” your voice is poignant but resolute

he brings up a hand to cover yours, still warm and tender against his wet cheek

how is it that he can be touching you yet simultaneously feel worlds apart from you

“okay,” he accepts with a whisper

if loving you silently is the only way he gets to love you, then he will choose it in a heartbeat over losing you entirely

he thumbs away the remainder of your tears

“can i kiss you? one last time?” he asks

you nod

“one last time”

your lips slowly meet, slotting together as they find their home in each other’s dips and curves

his hands cradle the small of your back and neck and your own hands rest against his chest

the kiss you share is steady, longing and bittersweet

it conveys everything that you want to say to each other, and even then, it is hardly enough

thank you

i’m sorry

i love you

goodbye…

you can feel your eyes burning up again, but you focus on the feeling of yeosang’s lips against yours instead

because you know that the moment one of you pulls away, that is it forever

in the world of love, there are people who are ill-fated

they meet the right person, but at the wrong time

and then there are people like you and yeosang

not ill-fated, but star-crossed lovers

the right person…

but just not meant to be

2K notes · View notes

sashaforthewin · 4 months

Text

Multi-chapter fic on Ao3

Steve had been enjoying a nice relaxing lounge by the pool despite it being night. He had his hearing aid off and his fruity drink and a romance novel Robin had let him borrow. He was determined to have a good time despite the circumstances.

Someone tapped his foot, scaring the crap out of Steve and making him drop his book and nearly knock over his drink.

It was a fellow cruise passenger and he was saying something. Steve turned his hearing aid back on.

“Sorry, what?”

“I asked why you were out here instead of at the concert,” repeated the man with a smile.

“Oh, um. I’m not actually a fan of metal music. It gives me headaches if I listen to more than one or two songs in a row,” Steve admitted sheepishly.

This stranger was still clearly a metal head, but he looked significantly less scary than most of the ones he had seen so far that day. Everyone Steve met had been nice, but Steve hadn’t felt comfortable telling anyone he wasn’t a fan until now. Maybe because it was just the two of them out here and he was smiling so cutely.

“Not a metal fan? Well damn, not to critique your life choices, but I think maybe going on a metal cruise wasn’t an ideal choice for you? I’m Eddie, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m Steve.”

There were plenty of deck lounges around, all empty, but Eddie sat down on Steve’s right next to his legs.

“Steve. So Steve, why are you on a metal cruise when you don’t like metal? These tickets were not exactly cheap and there’s no way you missed the theme, it was pretty clearly advertised,” Eddie asked teasingly.

Steve looked Eddie over, noting that he was actually pretty cute. Pretty eyes, nice full lips, dimples, and he was that type of lanky Steve was drawn to. He had good skin and his hair had some volume and texture to it, Steve could work with that. Bit of a fixer-upper, but a better starting point than most of the men that had flirted with him since his last failed relationship. He also had the vibe, so Steve decided this guy would be fine to open up to.

“Well, Eddie, I bought this ticket for my dear friend Dustin for his birthday, but then the little shit went and outed me to my parents. Accidentally, of course, and he feels like shit about it. But still, that got me kicked out of my home so maybe I’m being petty but I decided he shouldn’t get to go on this cruise after all. I forgive him, it really was an accident, but still, gotta teach him a lesson.” Steve shrugged. “And I would’ve gotten the ticket refunded but the money would’ve gone back to my parents and they clearly don’t deserve to get anything back from me. So, instead of trying to figure out how to sell a ticket to a very niche interest cruise, I figured I deserved to just come and treat myself for four days before I have to go back to living in my ex-girlfriend’s basement. It’s actually pretty nice to have the ship to myself while all you guys are in there shaking your heads to loud music.” Steve gestured to the pool and the drink.

“Ex- girl friend’s basement?” Eddie asked.

“Shut up, I’m bi.” Steve smacked Eddie on the arm with his book.

Eddie grabbed the book and looked at it as he replied, “Hey, just checking to make sure I’m not barking up the wrong tree.”

“Oh? Is that what you’re doing, barking up my tree?” Steve said, playfully.

“If you’ll let me,” Eddie flirted back.

“So how come you’re not in the show right now?” Steve asked, gently stealing his book back from Eddie’s grasp.

“Oh, I’m touring with those guys right now, I have heard them play the same set like fifteen times already. I’d much rather be out here getting to chat with you. You know you’re beautiful, right? How come you don’t live with your boyfriend? Or girlfriend?” Eddie asked, quite obvious in his fishing for information.

“I’m single and yes, I do know I’m beautiful, but I still like hearing it. Are you like a roadie or something?”

“Actually,” Eddie said, “I’m the lead guitarist in the headlining band. We play tomorrow night. Can I buy you another drink? Maybe dinner?”

“The, uh, the bill goes to our cabins,” Steve answered, too shocked that an apparently famous musician was asking him out to respond appropriately.

“Baby, I’ll put your entire tab on my cabin if you’ll let me. You are the most beautiful, and dare I say cleanest man on this entire boat. Metal heads are great, but they aren’t really my type.”

Steve takes a sip of his cold drink just to make sure he’s not fallen asleep and dreaming. The ocean is calm and the moon is full and he is most definitely awake.

“And what is your type?” Steve asked.

“Handsome men with soft hands who will let me pamper them,” Eddie said, picking up Steve’s hand and feeling his lack of calluses. He placed a kiss onto each finger tip. “These hands aren’t meant for labor, let me spoil you rotten.”

Well, Steve reasoned, even if this ended up being just a weekend fling, it was going to be worth the price of admission.

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #my fic

2K notes · View notes

bluetimeombre · 6 months

Text

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ falling out of love

fans think that you and tom are falling out of love after filming for ballad of songbirds and snakes and you don't post about each other much, so you show them that it's far from the truth.

[heres to 2024 coming soon. this is not part of my ongoing series but a little something else to hold you all over. never proofread, just vibing. btw just watched salt burn and I’m scared of barry now]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

liked by… rachelzegler, joshandresrivera, hunterschafer & others

tomblyth: the vibes are green

893k likes 398k comments

user: he’s so happy!!!

user: um, where’s yourusername?

user: that’s definitely not yourusername

user: they don’t have to be around each other all the time

user: they haven’t been seen together in ages ☹️☹️

user: if they break up I’ll cry myself to sleep every night

user: my man looks so good

user: maybe she just didn’t want to hike (i wouldn’t)

user: 😍😍

user: he’s active again!!!!

user: I miss them

user: where’s yourusername

user: daddy 🔥🔥🔥🔥

user: just wanna know who the girl he’s with is, i just wanna know

user: is that the necklace yourusername gave him?

user: y’all are obsessed!!!

user: let my man live

liked by …. florence.pugh, austinbutler, jaimieflatters & others

yourusername: packing only the essentials

901k likes 650k comments

user: packing?

user: what do you mean packing, where you going?

user: hotmamma

user: I love u

user: where’s tom

user: where is she going? to tom

user: is she leaving tom?

user: I love her whole vibe

user: I hope she’s going to go see tom 😔😔

user: why is she always slaying, it must be so tiring to be her

user: tomblyth

user: I can’t lose my third set of parents plssss

user: hearts breaking rn

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

user: rip tomblyth and yourusername, I’ll miss you

user: cosying up??? they’re literally just talking

user: it was bound to happen

user: tom!!!! cone get ur gurl

user: crying in the club rn

user: not believing in anything until they confirm

user: I can’t believe it; i won’t

user: love is dead

user: as long as they’re happy

user: they were probably pr for the hunger games and it’s been over two years, who cares now

liked by… jaimieflaters, sadiesink_, zendaya & others

yourusername: that’s a rap on me and my Malibu dude!

871k likes 0comments

[comments restricted]

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

‘It’s so over,’

trending on twitter

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

liked by… tomblyth, rachelzegler, jamieflaters, tomholland2013 &others

yourusername: tom and I falling out of love, a compilation

1.1m likes 832k comments

user: oh it’s so back

user: she really said stop it!

user: parents!!!!

user: THANK GOD

user: taking the toaster out of the bath rn

user: goals

rachelzegler: you guys are so cute I’m gonna throw up

user: the fourth picture hello?!?!?!

user: damnnnnn

user: THANK GOD IM SO HAPPY

user: stfu enews

user: he’s such a gentleman in every picture but the fourth

user: I just knows he’s packing

zendaya: ❤️

user: planning the wedding

user: twitter lied!!

liked by … yourusername, rachelzegler, joshandresrivera & others

tomblyth: falling out of love? more like falling in love with every single day that passes. I love you

tagged: yourusername

1m likes 750k comments

user: AHHHHHHHH

user: the posts!!!! the posts!!!!!

user: I just know they picked out these photos together

user: I love them

user: they’re giggling and kicking their feet rn

user: this is the cutest damn couple ever

user: I know they’re so in love because look at like these pictures, so darn cute

user: two years going on forever!!!

user: they could never make me believe you guys were over

user: they were literally probably just laughing off the rumors

user: they had us in the first half, ngl

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

‘Oh it’s so back!’

trending on twitter

#coriolanus snow #the hunger games #tom blyth #tom blyth imagine #tom blyth x reader #tomblyth #tom blyth x you #x yn #social media #love #in love

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starkwlkr · 4 months

Note

hi i love your writing, i have a request could you imagine where ruby talks about being in love with a friend from school, and charles and ruby's uncles are protective and jealous and y/n laugh at the whole situation

the L word | charles leclerc

“Maman, when did you know you were in love?”

Y/n thought it was such a serious question for an eight year old to ask, but she answered the question anyway.

“Well the first time—”

“You can be in love more than once?”

Y/n chuckled and nodded. “Yes, Ruby, you can. Some people fall in love once, and other don’t.”

“Why?” The girl asked.

“It’s just how life is.”

That stuck with Ruby for a while. Her mother explained the concept of love to her. For being an eight year old, Ruby understood it quite well until she asked if being in love automatically means that you had to marry that person.

“Um . . Not necessarily. Not everyone that’s in love married each other.” Y/n explained.

“Why? They love each other. You and papa love each other and you’re married.” She stated.

“Well not everyone wants to get married. And it doesn’t really work like that. For example, I love you and Mathéo—”

“Don’t forget about Floppy.” Ruby interrupted.

“And Floppy, yes,” Y/n chuckled as the mentioned of the stuffed bunny. “I love my friends and family too. Do you get it?”

Ruby slowly nodded. “I think so. But maman, can I tell you something?”

“Of course, what is it?”

“I think I’m in love.”

Y/n kept Ruby’s secret until Charles made it back to Monaco for the Grand Prix. Ruby had told her mother about her crush on a classmate from her piano class. Y/n thought it was adorable that her daughter had a crush unlike Charles who thought it was the end of the world.

“She’s too young! She’s my baby!” Charles spoke with Y/n as he got ready for the day. The Monaco Grand Prix was in a few days and he was already stressing about the race, now he had more to stress about.

“She’s eight, Charles. It’s just a little crush. You never had crushes as a kid?” Y/n asked, as she started to make the bed.

“I didn’t care about girls back then, I was too focused on racing.” He admitted. Y/n the stopped what she was doing and stared at him until he said the truth. “Okay, I had one crush, but she didn’t like me back! She liked some boy who stole my favorite pen from school.”

“Poor you.” Y/n chuckled then walked to the bathroom to start doing her hair, Charles walked in with her.

“But now I have the best wife who gave me the best children ever and hopefully she’ll give me more . .” Charles kissed his wife’s cheek repeatedly.

“Keep dreaming, Perceval. Maybe in the future. If we have more, imagine how you’re going to be when they start dating.”

“Oh god.”

After getting ready, the couple and the kids made it to the paddock. Usually, Ruby was energetic and loud, but her behavior that day changed. She was quiet and stayed with her mother holding her hand. When they walked into the Ferrari garage, Carlos was shocked to see a calm Ruby.

“Is she sick?” Carlos asked the parents.

“No, she’s fine she’s just nervous.” Y/n replied.

“Nervous for Charles or Ferrari?”

Charles rolled his eyes. “Actually, she’s nervous for herself. The boy she has a crush on is coming to watch the race, which I’m not happy about so can we please talk about something else?”

“She has a crush? No, she’s too young!” Carlos whisper yelled.

“That’s what I said! Thank you!” Charles brought his teammate in for a hug.

“Unbelievable, come on kids. Let’s go find Aunt Kika.”

By the time it was time to do interviews, the whole grid seemed to know about Ruby’s crush and each of them reacted similar to Charles and Carlos. Since Ruby’s first paddock appearance, the grid loved her. She had them wrapped around her finger and they didn’t mind one bit.

“What’s his name? How old is he? Do I know his parents? Where does he live?”

“Calm down, Pierre, they’re eight.”

“I need to know who my niece likes! What if he’s not good enough for her? Ruby deserves the world.” Pierre told Y/n as the family and a couple of drivers sat in the Ferrari hospitality.

“They’re eight. Why are all of you on Charles’ side? They’re kids, they’re not going to get married tomorrow.” Kika added.

“I’m not on papa’s side. I’m here for ice cream!” Mathéo said as he continued eating the frozen treat.

“Thank you, Théo. Keep eating, baby.” Y/n kissed her son’s cheek.

“There’s a percentage of people that end up marrying the person they met in their childhood. Ruby could fall into that category.” Charles stated.

“You sound ridiculous right now. I don’t think that’s a bad thing. It’s cute, my childhood crush moved away to Canada or something.” Y/n said casually.

“Is it Lance?” Lando questioned.

“Mate, she said he moved to Canada, I’m pretty sure Lance was born there.” Carlos told Lando.

“Anyways . . . I suggest we keep Ruby in the Ferrari garage at all times then when the race finishes, we take her straight home and we all live happily ever after.” Charles proposed.

“Yeah, that seems dumb. But good luck finding her, she’s been with the boy from her piano class this whole time we’ve been talking. I think Fred is giving them a tour of the garage last I heard.”

#inbox <3 #anon #formula 1 #f1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #f1 imagine #f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #baby leclerc series #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine

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derinthescarletpescatarian · 1 year

Text

Breakfast Time

My son’s stuck in a time loop again.

He thinks I don’t know, of course. He’s never told me that this happens to him (or that he can do this, possibly; I’m not sure which it is.) Maybe I’m a bad mother, if I haven’t proven myself worthy of that trust. But there is only so many times that one can watch their son trudge through a day with bored impatience, anticipating everything you say just a little too quickly and showing no surprise to even the most surprising event, and then come downstairs the next day disoriented but rejuvenated and with a new zest for life and a tendency to get blindsided by even the most predictable things, before one makes the obvious connection.

I don’t think he’s lived through this day too many times yet, because he’s not frustrated by my good morning joke but not surprised by the monster attack being announced on the news. He eats his toast makes polite conversation that sounds just a little too rote until his sister comes down, and he puts his toast down in that distinctive way that make her eyes widen in sudden realisation, a reaction I never would have noticed if I wasn’t looking for it. He told her about three time loops ago, I think, although it might’ve been earlier and I just never noticed the signal until then. I make sure to keep the smile on my face as I push a plate of toast towards her.

The thing on the news is some kind of flying beast, and my son’s eyes don’t leave the TV screen. I expect that calm, solid determination that I usually see in his expression on days like this, but instead he watches it only with a wary sort of calculation. I suppress a sigh – it looks like I won’t be remembering today, then.

The pair exchange glances and look to me. “Hey, mum, I figured we should go to school early. We’ve both got these big tests coming up and – ”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Go.” I know what you’re thinking – obviously they’re off to do something dangerous, and obviously they’re far too young for this sort of thing, and obviously I shouldn’t enable this, and I’m a terrible parent for letting them run off to maybe get themselves killed someday. But I put this to you:

How, exactly, do you expect me to stop them?

As my son heads for the door, though, I almost stop him. I consider, not for the first time, just telling him what I know, what I’ve figured out, and asking him to explain everything, to say where he’s going and what he plans to do about that thing and if his sister is involved and if they at least have help, to put my mind at ease. I don’t, though. Because, logically… I must have done that before, right? In at least one of the countless days that never happened. I must have gotten worried or angry or just fed up with this ridiculous charade and told him that he wasn’t as good at hiding as he thought he was. He has to know that I know, right? And yet, he still chooses to let it play out like this.

Or, perhaps, he told me once. That must have happened, right? I must have been there to help, to patch his wounds and dry his tears and listen to him confess his fears or his worries or his regrets about this big responsibility, about whatever he’s doing out there. He must have told me, at some point, at least once, in one of those nonexistent days. And afterwards, he chose not to tell the me that stuck around. Meaning that I must have given him some reason to keep this secret.

What did I do to him? What did I say to him? How bad a confidante must I have been, that he chooses instead to keep me in the dark?

They leave, they ‘go to school early’, and I start on the dishes. As I wash my daughter’s breakfast crumbs away, the plate slips from my fingers and shatters on the tiles at my feet. I sigh, and turn to get a broom.

Then stop. Pick up all the other dirty plates. And shatter them, one by one, on the tiles.

Then I leave the mess behind me, pull a full tub of rocky road ice cream out of the freezer, and resolve to spend the day eating junk and watching youtube videos. After all, it’s not like it’s going to matter tomorrow, right?

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notmyneighbor · 2 months

Text

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 10

Word Count ~ 5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ fluff and smut

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl @kawaiichookie @vexillum-moeru @blackcurrant28 @r4yyyyy @dazedin2d @mrsspector-grant

Monday morning comes all too soon.

You’d stayed up later than you’d intended. Talking about the wedding. You’d agreed on an outdoor ceremony. To be held in late autumn, maybe. Still nothing definite. Baby names. This still unresolved. You think you’d fallen asleep mid debate.

Your doppelgänger has to get up even earlier on mornings when he stays at the farmhouse.

He’s insisted you sleep in before but you never do. You don’t want to miss any time being with him. It was worth missing sleep. Maybe you’d have matching shadows under your eyes.

You smile sleepily at him. It’s still dark but you can sense he’s awake, looking at you. You reach blindly for his face. He turns it, kissing your palm, his hand covering yours.

“I love you,” you greet him. You can’t say it enough.

“I love you, too.” A little regretful sigh before leaving the bed. The sounds of him getting ready in the bathroom, less obvious as you make your way downstairs and get coffee going. The sky is gradually lightening now. You can see some small wild brown rabbits through the kitchen window, rummaging near the bushes for breakfast before heading back to the burrow. You watch them scamper and forage while you prepare your own breakfast, scrambled eggs and toast to accompany the coffee.

An arm wraps around your shoulders, drawing you backwards. You can smell soap and shampoo and aftershave. He’s gotten better at the routine. Getting ready faster. Or maybe just rushing to steal a few more of these moments with you.

You lean against the doppelgänger, your head dropping back as his lips find your neck, then brush the shell of your ear. The smell of the coffee and cooked food permeates the kitchen. Warm kisses before the warm liquid slips down your throat after your first caffeinated sip.

The same words are spoken each morning before he steps into the delivery truck. I love you. Be safe.

The familiar ache is present before he’s even left the driveway. You miss him already. You worry for him. The rising sun kisses the dew on the lawn. You wrap your bathrobe tighter around your waist and head back up the steps of the porch.

***

Today is the day you’re introducing your fiancé to your parents.

You’re not sure which of you is more nervous as you drive to their house.

“What if your father says I can’t marry you?” Francis’ copy inquires anxiously, not for the first time, his fingers twisting restlessly in his lap until you reach for his hand, clutching it tightly.

“He won’t. I told you, it’s just a formality. A cultural politeness,” you reassure him. Still unsure of how this meeting is going to go. You’re going to be lying to your parents, after all. Telling them you’re marrying a human resident of the building you guard, knowing full well he’s really an alien. “We’ll get through this, love. Last thing before we move in together.”

A crooked little smile at this reminder. Still nervous. Your mouth brushes his knuckles before you return your attention to the road. Not as much traffic on a weekend morning.

“I’m surprised they don’t live in the building you work at.”

“There weren’t any vacancies or else they might have. There’s quite a waiting list to get into a DDD guarded building.”

“Meaning my apartment will be in demand once I move out.”

“Yes.” You sigh. “I’ll missing seeing you there. But then, I’ll have you at home, so, it’s a fair trade off.”

“Making you get up extra early five days a week.”

“Worth it.”

Another smile, this one sturdier. He was relaxing a little. “I love you.”

“I love you.” You’ve arrived at your destination. A brick and mortar home close to downtown. The narrow strip of lawn immaculately kept. Window boxes full of flowers. Your mother is watching your approach through the screen door, unable to wait any longer, hurrying down the trio of cement stairs and wrapping her arms around you. It had been several months since your last visit. You really should come more often.

Maybe you would, now. With a grandchild in tow, one day.

She steps back to inspect you. Looking you over, making sure you were healthy, eating properly. Remarking on the color in your cheeks which only heightens it further. You introduce your partner to her, noticing your father still hovering in the background, near the stairs.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” Francis’ copy closes the distance and holds out a hand and you beam with pride. You’d rehearsed this. Your dad looks stern, but that’s just his way. He accepts the offering, his eyes boring into your fiancé’s. Did he suspect? He couldn’t possibly.

“Well, come on in. We’ve got lunch ready for you,” he invites, and you sigh inwardly with relief. So far, so good.

“Your young man is so handsome,” your mother murmurs as you ascend the stairs. You nod, holding the door open for her. You can hear your beau talking to your father in the dining room. Your dad was definitely a sports fan, and you knew for a fact neither Francis nor his doppel followed any pastimes. Hopefully they’d found some neutral pleasantries to converse about.

“Let me help you in the kitchen, Mom.” She accepts, leading you into the room. Smaller than your own, necessary with these inner city dwellings. Everything was more compact. Efficient. “New wallpaper?” You observe, noting the previous floral pattern has been exchanged for a linear print.

“Yes, last month. Very contemporary.” You grab a pair of potholders and remove a casserole from the oven while she begins unloading side dishes onto the plates.

“That’s a lovely ring, dear. He must have saved up quite a lot for that.”

“Yes, it’s pretty, isn’t it?” You pause to admire the engagement solitaire you’re wearing. “Francis always lived quite frugally. Lives quite frugally,” you correct hurriedly.

“Well, nothing wrong with being sensible when it comes to finances. Your father will appreciate that sentiment.”

“Do you think they’re okay in there?” You gaze in the direction of the open doorway that leads to the dining room. You still can’t quite make out what they’re saying.

“Oh, I’m sure your Francis is doing just fine. Don’t worry.”

You finish helping her fill the plates and then lift two, carrying them into the other room. Your father is seated directly across from your fiancé. Talking about the apartments. News. The war effort. You dart an anxious glance at the doppel but he’s doing well, keeping his voice neutral, answering everything politely. You can tell he’s relieved to see you, though, the second you enter the room his eyes lighting on yours.

“Here we are. Now, Francis—do you go by Francis? Not Frank, or…?”

“Francis is fine, ma’am.”

“Francis, we’re not shy about eating a good meal. There are seconds if you want them, just ask.”

“Thank you.”

You sit next to your doppel and your mother settles across from you. “Um, before we dig in, Francis would like to say Grace.” Your parents weren’t devout, but they respected the faith well enough. It had been a constant practice before every meal you’d sat down to with the milkman’s copy.

“Oh, certainly.” Your mother bows her head, and you see a faint flicker of something—maybe approval?—in your father’s eyes before he follows suit.

The simple prayer completed, you find yourself demolishing the contents on your plate with enthusiasm. Nothing ever beats your mother’s cooking. You’ve missed it.

The conversation flows well, with only a few pauses here and there. You appreciate the fact that your mother keeps drawing the invader back into the discussion, making sure he feels involved, a welcome participant.

Your father is still a little reserved, much of the communication done with his eyes. Intently regarding your beau. Studying him. You abandon the napkin draped on your lap and reach for the pretender’s thigh to reassure him, squeezing lightly. He squeezes your hand back.

By the time dessert arrives—you’re suddenly wishing you hadn’t stuffed yourself quite so full, you should have left room, because who could say no to homemade apple pie?—you can see your fiancé is anxious to ask the question he’s wanted to all along, shifting a little restlessly in his seat, the fork sinking into the sugared crust forgotten.

“Sir, I’d like to ask your permission for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

The room goes quiet, the movement of cutlery on porcelain still. “You’re going to provide for my girl?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s special. She deserves the best.”

“I agree. I swear to you I will do everything in my power to care for her and make her happy.”

Another pause. You’re holding your breath. Your mother is staring at your father, worrying her bottom lip.

“Well, I can’t ask for more than that. You have my permission.”

A collective sigh of relief from the guests at the table. Your mother’s hands clasp, her eyes shining. You press your lips against the doppel’s shoulder. He’d passed. You’d done it. You manage to clear your plate, offering to help your mother with the dishes.

“I like your Francis. He’s a fine young man. Respectful. Hard working. Maybe a little too hard working. The boy looks a little in want of sleep. Or is that your doing?”

“Mom!” You gasp, and she nudges your arm.

“I’m only teasing. But he’s a good man. He’s got your father’s approval, and you know that isn’t easy. Have you thought about a date yet?”

“We were actually thinking about the fall.”

“This fall? 1955?”

“Yes.” You finish lathering a plate with soap and rinse it, setting it on the rack to dry.

“That’s a little soon. You’re not…you know…”

“No, Mom. Not yet.”

“You know I’ve been wanting grandchildren. I know your career is important to you, but you should indulge in a domestic life. Stay home and raise a family. It would make me feel better not having you facing those horrible doppels day in and day out.”

“I want to help people, Mom. So others can have that kind of life. But I would take time off for a baby.”

“Only one?”

“Francis wants several.”

“I wish your father had,” she mutters, the dish sponge squeaking against the inside of a glass. “I’m with your young man on this. The more the merrier, provided you’re doing alright financially. Fill the house, dear. You won’t regret it. It will be the happiest time of your life.” She kisses your cheek. “That’s the last of the dishes. Let’s go find out what our men are up to.”

Your men, as it turns out, are outside in the front yard. Your father sounded like he was giving tips on lawn care. Poor Francis.

“Hey.” You slide your arm through the doppel’s, coming to your fiancé’s rescue. “We’re all done in the kitchen, if you’re ready to head out.”

He nods, shaking your father’s hand, then returning the hug your mother offers before heading to the car. You embrace your parents again, your mother already on her way back inside after bidding you farewell while your father lingers by your side.

“You like him, Dad?”

“He’s different, that one. Something about him…”

A little surge of alarm runs through you. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know. Just something,” he murmurs thoughtfully, then shakes himself. “One thing’s for certain, though: he’s crazy about you.”

“He is, Dad. And I feel the same way about him.”

“Keep us posted when you set a date. You be careful with those doppels.” His lips graze your forehead and then he retreats indoors.

You settle behind the wheel, glancing over at your fiancé. “What do you think?”

“I think that was stressful, but overall it went well. What did your father say to you just now?”

“That he could see you’re crazy about me.” You lean over and kiss him. “Want to go home and celebrate?”

“Yes. Maybe wait a bit, though. That was a lot of food.”

“My mom always fills the plates like that,” you agree, starting the engine. “You did great today. I’m really proud of you. Really happy.”

“I’m glad, sweet girl. Me too.”

“Okay. Let’s go home.”

***

There’s an advertisement for an event the following weekend sitting on the kitchen table.

The paper had been folded and tucked into the doppel’s work pants, retrieved when you’d been gathering a load of laundry together.

“I forgot about that,” he murmurs apologetically, kissing the patch of skin behind your ear, making you shiver. “It’s a dance. I didn’t know if you wanted to go. Someone on my route gave it to me.”

Social gatherings were few and far between. Dangerous, these days. You generally avoided them.

It’s tempting, though. You’re conflicted again. Wanting to go out with your beau, being afraid of discovery.

“I’ll think about it.”

“Do you have to do the washing right now, or can we…?”

“We can.” You set the basket down and turn in his arms. His hands slide down your back, then shift to stroke over your hips.

“My beautiful girl.” His lips touch yours.

“My handsome doppel.” You return the gesture, your fingers carding through the hair curling at the nape of his neck. He needed another trim.

“Come upstairs with me.”

You follow him eagerly. He pauses midway through unbuttoning his shirt to cup your face between his hands, kissing you. He’s forgotten to undo his shirt cuffs, the sleeves still clinging when he tries to shed the garment. You come to his rescue and he stops you for another kiss. Little by little the clothing piles onto the floor.

Neither of you has switched the bedside lamp on. It’s just the two of you in the darkness. The moon is hiding tonight.

“I love you so much,” he breathes into your ear as he enters you.

“I love you.” You wrap your legs around him tightly, rocking up against him. Gentle movements. Filling you. Withdrawing. Stretched again. Plunging deep. The place where he ends meeting the place where you begin.

“Is it wrong to pray? To ask for something, is it so different than the words we recite before meals, these ones from the heart, will He answer me, a monster…” He whispers against your skin, your hair, musings you’ve mulled over yourself, surely he deserved it, if any did, you know what he wants, what you want, too.

“Ask, love. Ask, I’ll ask too, Francis…”

“Please…” His hips drive against yours. Sheathed faster. Impaled and then not, in rapid succession. His mouth is rough on yours, sliding sloppily off the edges, words half uttered, some in that strange native language of his.

Inside. Pressure. Contractions. An echoing pulse. Liquid heat. Your nails digging into his shoulder. His teeth scraping your throat. Filling you. Breathless kisses before the calm.

***

You don’t typically make small talk with the residents.

There’s always a kind of tension between you, their fates resting in your hands. You were trained to be professionally detached, but that obviously had failed in Francis’ case. Still, you’re gradually warming up to some of the others. The happiness of your relationship making words tumble free easier. Today it is the physicist at your window, Dr. Afton. He adjusts his glasses with a long practiced gesture, shoving them back up the bridge of his nose as you examine his ID and entry request. He is listed for the day and everything checks out. A quick call to his fiancée confirms what you already know. He’s legit. The real deal.

“Have you and Mia set a date yet?” You slide his documents back towards him through the slot.

“Spring, I think. You and Francis?”

“Autumn, maybe.”

“So soon,” he murmurs. His eyes flick down for the briefest of moments and you don’t misunderstand the significance.

“Oh, no, I’m not…I mean, we’re trying, but…” You flush heavily as you stammer. Your attempt at small talk was seemingly backfiring. Maybe it was best to just keep things professional after all. “Anyway, have a good rest of your day.”

The doctor stands looking at you expectantly. “The door?” He prompts gently.

“Oh, right. Sorry.” You hastily operate the door controls and the man leaves the entryway.

Your next attendant makes your face break out in a grin. Your beau has returned.

The replicant milkman deposits his required documents into the slot, grinning back at you. There’s an extra slip of paper there, something torn off his delivery list on the clipboard, perhaps.

I love you

You mouth it back at him. He lays a hand on the window. You match your palm to his, dwarfed by the larger structure.

“How was your day?”

“I made an ass out of myself in front of Afton, but yeah, good. You?”

“Not bad. Can I come in?”

“Uh-huh.” You press the buzzer. Your fiancé doesn’t take the elevator like you’d expected, instead invading the security booth.

“Sir, this is for DDD staff only,” you mock protest.

“Does it count if I’m going to be married to a DDD staff member?”

“Mmm, I’m not sure.” You’re about to step closer to him when you hear someone entering the building. A middle aged man you don’t recognize wearing a suit. The same DDD enameled pin on his lapel. You hurriedly take the papers and ID he offers while the doppelgänger takes a step back, still out of view of the window, near the open doorway.

“I’ll need to call to verify your identity,” you remark. You don’t get visits from personnel other than the cleaners that often, and if you do, you usually get notified first. The man’s face is expressionless. He nods and you proceed, dialing the number of the headquarters.

“Good afternoon. I have someone here from the R&D department. I wasn’t expecting…I see. Alright. Yes, thank you.” You hang up the phone. “They’ve vouched for you. What brings you here today?”

“Something that will revolutionize the screening process, we’re hoping.” He sets a briefcase down on the narrow ledge of the counter, using a key on a cord around one wrist to unlock it before thumbing the latches and opening the case. He lifts an object and places it on the ledge before shutting and removing the briefcase. “This device here emits a frequency that the doppels can’t resist. It forces them to come out of hiding, as it were.”

“How do you know?” You can see your doppel’s body tense in your peripheral vision.

“Oh, a little project we’ve been working on. Sometimes the cleaners bring us gifts. We don’t always exterminate…but I suppose you wouldn’t know that, once the screen goes down. Well, in any case, they’ve made for good lab rats. It’s taken us awhile, but I think this just might be what we need to turn the tide and gain the upper hand.”

“You’ve been experimenting on them,” you whisper, unable to keep the revulsion and horror out of your voice.

“Why not? It’s not like they haven’t taken their own POWs from our side.”

The urge to glance at your fiancé to confirm the truth of this is overwhelming but you resist. “Why would they want to keep us prisoner?”

“I’m sure something unsavory. Food supply. Experiments. Who can say? Disgusting creatures. But I don’t need to tell you about that. You encounter them on a daily basis. A nearly perfect record too, I hear. Only one…mishap.” He grins. His teeth are yellow. You find yourself disliking the man more and more.

“No one was hurt,” you say defensively.

“Thank goodness. Now, to the task at hand. This device is extremely simple to use. It’s already calibrated to the correct frequency. No need to adjust. Simply flip the switch. Undetectable to human ears. But very effective for the doppels. They’ll reveal their true form within seconds. Then it’s just a matter of calling the disposal team. Just think of the applications this will have once this gets approved for mass production. No more fear of the unknown. No more doubts. The ultimate weapon of retaliation.”

Your stomach turns with every sentence he utters. There would be no hiding for Francis. For the baby you would one day conceive. All of the happiness you’d felt earlier evaporates. You grip the edge of the counter as he demonstrates the switch to turn the device on and activate the frequency.

You hear the creak of the wood when the doppelgänger grips the door frame.

“Yes, I see, easy to use. Better conserve the battery, right?” You finally surrender to the impulse to glance over at the invader. His chest is heaving, his teeth razor sharp. Bloodshot eyes that plead with you, the familiar shimmer outlining his true, hidden form appearing.

“That is one of the drawbacks, yes. We’re still working on a more reliable power source.” He flips the switch off and you can’t help but sigh loudly in relief. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that you’re to use it only in cases when there is any doubt. You’ll still be performing the standard screening procedures. But if this has the results that I expect it will, I’m certain this will become the new industry standard. And give us the advantage at last. I’ll be collecting this after a one week trial. I’ll have a questionnaire for you to fill out after you’ve tested it out.”

“Of course.” You plaster a smile on your features, willing the man to leave.

“Shall I bring it to you, or…?”

“No, company policy prohibits anyone from entering the booth that’s not authorized. Technically you haven’t been, so…”

“Quite right. Well, I leave it in your capable hands, then.” The briefcase in hand, he turns and exits the building.

You immediately turn to see Francis’ clone sweating profusely, still struggling to return to human form.

“Francis! Are you alright? Love, it’s okay, I’m here.” Your hands cup the intruder’s face, disregarding the dangerous rows of cuspids stretched wide, peering into the crimson streaked eyes.

He shudders, his hands—claws—closing over your wrists. You’ve never seen him have this much difficulty. What was that evil frequency the scientists had discovered?

“Francis, it’s me. Come back to me, love. I’ve got you. You’re safe.” Another violent tremor. Then his grip on you lessens, his eyes clearing, the haze dissipating. The facial features rearrange to form the familiar ones of the milkman.

“Sweetheart,” he manages, his breathing still ragged.

“Yes, Francis. You’re okay.” You wrap your arms around him and he squeezes you tightly.

“The pain, love. You can’t imagine. We have to destroy that. We can’t…”

“We’ll think of something. Tamper with it. Lie about it’s effectiveness. I don’t know. Something.” As wondrous as it would be to have access to technology like that, you couldn’t risk its use for your doppel’s sake. For your future children’s. “I didn’t know they were experimenting on…is it true, what he said? Have the invaders been taking humans prisoner?”

He releases you. “Not my squadron, I promise you that. But yes. It’s true.” He draws in a shaky breath. “I know I said in the beginning I wanted to experiment…now, I would never condone…”

“I know. I know you.” You retrieve the device, deciding to store it in the lockbox under the desk for now. Francis’ doppel gives you a wide berth as you walk around the booth carrying it, backing away as you make the corner. “You should go upstairs and rest. My shift will be done soon.” He nods, still looking shaken. You embrace him again, watching as he steps onto the elevator, then your eyes flick to the lockbox.

A new complication that you didn’t need.

***

Francis Mosses’ apartment is silent that afternoon when you enter.

No record rotating on the player. No meal being prepared on the stove. There is just the doppel seated on the couch, the crocheted blanket draped over the cushions behind him. He hasn’t even removed his work uniform, except for the cap which is resting on the coffee table. He hadn’t locked the door or risen to greet you at it, his tired eyes shifting to watch as you sit next to him.

“Francis, are you feeling alright?” You’re wondering if the device didn’t have some lingering ill effects.

“Fatigued. I’ll be alright. I’m sorry I didn’t get the door for you. I’m still…” He holds out a hand that tremors as if with palsy. You’ve never seen him this ghostly pale.

“Do you have any appetite at all? Should I fix us something, or…?”

“Just stay with me, love.”

You snuggle closer to him, slipping off your shoes and drawing your knees up, tucking your stockinged feet to one side, your fingers stroking his forearm. You’re suddenly feeling tired yourself, the rush of adrenaline from earlier now leaving you feeling sapped of energy. There was a nice breeze coming in through the living room window. Your lover’s arm curls around you. You fall asleep.

It’s dark when you awaken.

You’re disoriented, blinking away the vestiges of a dream you don’t recall the details of. Francis’ doppel is cuddling you. Awake. You can tell by the rhythm of his breathing.

“I’m sorry I fell asleep.”

“We both needed the rest.” His lips press against your hair.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Physically, anyway. Mentally…I’m worried.”

“I know. Me too. We’ll figure something out, Francis.” You reach out blindly to find his hand. “Want to do something improper like skip to dessert and have cookies and milk in bed and forget everything for a bit?”

“Hmmm. Are you included in that menu?”

“I can be.”

“Then it’s a deal. Shower first?”

“Definitely.”

His lips touch your forehead. “You always make everything better.”

You’re more concerned than you’re letting on. But you don’t want to focus on that right now. You want the doppel to feel safe, secure. Enjoy the peace you’ve found together for tonight.

You feel him leaning away from you, reaching for the lamp. His condition does appear to have improved from earlier. Healthy color returned. Hands steady. You dig around in the drawer where you’ve stored some spare pajamas while he turns the shower on.

“Don’t fuss too much on what you’re wearing. It won’t be staying on.”

Oh, he was definitely feeling better. “Maybe I’ll just skip it entirely.”

“Now we’re talking.”

You strip off your work clothes, your fiancé already halfway undressed, finishing that task now and leading your into the deluge of warm water. You take a moment to soak your hair, then switch places so Francis’ copy can do the same.

You grab the bar of soap from the shallow ledge on the wall and begin lathering your hands together, working up a cloud of suds that you quickly smear across the cloned milkman’s chest. You take turns washing each other, hands lingering when they reach nipples, buttocks, between legs. You’re pushed gently back against the shower wall, the soap slipping from your grasp. The doppel cups his hands beneath the spray, splashing it over your body, making sure you’re rinsed, lifting one leg and guiding it to rest on the edge of the tub while he kneels down, blinking water out of his eyes, his damp fingers now working against your sex, followed by his tongue, sucking a mouthful of shower water and your clit in one go. You moan, raking your fingers through his damp dark hair, marveling at the feel of that frenzied muscle dividing your nether lips, plunging inside and then swirling around your clit.

You’re thinking of that alien cock of his, the one you’d mostly felt more than saw, and you suddenly crave the feeling of it again. You won’t dare ask him for that tonight, not after what had happened earlier when he’d been forced out of hiding, but another time, you want that in your mouth, back inside of you, fucking you missionary style, driving in deeply. You’re already swollen, dripping, that slick liquid thicker than the water pelting your bodies, a trail he follows with lips and tongue and even teeth, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thighs, the arc of one hip, the crest of your mound before he’s sucking your bud again. He’s leaning into you, offering you a chance to rest some of your body weight, the raised leg shaking as you find a swift release, bursting on his tongue, ripened hive spilling creamy honey before you’re rinsed clean.

He shuts the shower off and you’re barely swiped with a towel before he’s pushing you down into the bed, picking right up where he left off, sliding his erection into the place his tongue and fingers have just vacated.

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me, I’ll do anything you want.”

Catering to you. You feel you should be the one making the offer. “I’m yours. I love everything with you. You decide. This is nice. This is…oh…good.” He’s picked up the pace, droplet covered hips kissing yours over and over. The shower water still clinging to him drips from his hair, splashing your forehead, your cheeks, your lips. You think of kissing him that day it rained on your front porch, already falling so fast, so far, Francis the bridge but the doppel the destination, it didn’t feel wrong, it couldn’t, when it was like this between you.

“Sweet girl, you’re so perfect for me.” A word you don’t know, but the tone is in the same vein, affection, lust, breathed beside your cheek, moaned against your throat.

“I want to learn it. All of it. Starting with your name. I love you.” The words are pushed into the mouth that closes over yours, hot breath, that thick cock of his incessantly drumming inside of your womb. You’re lost in the dark of his eyes, in that blissful realm he drags you back into, your body shattering around him, milking him, urging to be mated, claimed, marked as his. He calls you something that sounds almost like wife and you nearly are, bonded to this foreigner that’s crossed galaxies and mapped stars to build a new universe within you, starting with this, that sowed seed, fingers interwoven, cock buried deep, face burrowed in the curve of neck damp from the strands of hair clinging there.

After there is cold milk from the fridge and chocolate chip cookies, melting sweet on your tongue as Francis’ doppel holds you against him, licking at the stray sweet granules clinging to your lips. “Your first lesson,” he begins, and it is him speaking now, the invader beneath, that deeper voice stirring interest in your loins again already, twice sated but still eager for more. “My name is…”

#francis mosses #milkman #francis mosses x reader #francis mosses x you #milkman x reader #milkman x you #thats not my neighbor #the milkman #doppelganger #that’s not my neighbor

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tesalicious2 · 2 years

Text

Gothamites are just a different breed of people. They literally could not give a single f*ck about anything. There attitude is ‘eh, not impressed’ mixed with ‘been there don that’ and ‘try harder’.

It’s bad but no one knows how bad until they move there. I’m convinced everyone who lives in Crime Alley has had there parents/grandparents live there, while the less dangerous parts of Gotham see more new faces. They don’t stay long but they pop up.

Batman doesn’t let the Justice League to Gotham and I think that’s fair. They are all to bright and happy. Everyone is so angsty it’s amazing. He doesnt let them in for their own protection. Mostly since they all thinks he’s dramatic. But he knows that that relaxed manner is going to get them hurt.

The only vigilante that has zero haters (besides criminals) is Red Hood. Like, he control the most dangerous part of Gotham every night, walks kids/girls/teens/anyone-who-asks home, regularly buys food for the homeless, reads to kids at the library at night/near closing, stops robberies, sometimes teaches people self defense, and tries to be really quiet bc the walls are thin.

Either him or Signal bc he’s a daytime hero and everyone loves him. Nice, new, and will help out work the mundane stuff.

That being said, the rest are liked too but so have their haters. Despite this, there are websites and videos of them all doing cute and funny stuff or the gothamites doing nice stuff for them.

There is a video of someone giving Spoiler an umbrella, she returned it the next day. Someone managed to find everyone and give them their own hand sewn plushies, and their reaction.

Mostly starting with them on a rooftop of a building, a person calls out. “Yo! (Insert name)! Come here real quick!”

They go over and the person pulls out the plushie.

Batman: *stares for a moment* thank you. Did you make this? The workman ship is amazing.

Nightwing: awwwww! This is so nice, thank you!

Red hood: imma admit it, this is the greatest moment of my entire life. Now, you are in a very bad part of Gotham and need to get to bed. I’ll walk you.

Red Robin: i adore this. I will keep it with me till I die.

Robin: *brain cannot compute* Umm…Thank you very much. Honestly, no idea what to say right now

Spoiler: AWWWW, my first fan anything! I love this! Do you have an Instagram or something? I have to follow you! Let me buy you food!

Black Bat: *squished it once, looks up, Higgs it to her, then motions to hug the creator, they hug*

Signal: ummm, thank you? ive never had to deal with this before. I love it so much! Thank you!

(Can’t believe o forgot Batgirl)

Batgirl: This is so sweet! Thank you! *gives the biggest hug known to man*

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iammattswife · 3 months

Text

20 year olds playing with kids toys (Matt’s daughter joins)

DadMatt DadMatt DadMatt !!!

I haven't written in so fucking long please excuse how terrible this is.

Also I named the daughter Kiara cus I like the name and wanna name my kid that, was literally so close to naming his wife after me.

“This is the Fairy-Corn Princess Surprise, I didn’t think we needed this. This was one of the last things we grabbed but Matt thought we needed it because it has over 35 princess surprises inside” Nick states as he puts the egg-shaped toy down on the counter, prepared to start opening up their first toy.

“Well, I also thought Kiara would like it- she’s been obsessed with fairies recently, figured why not get it for the video then give it to her”

As they’re opening the egg, commenting on the unicorn inside Matt notices something on the instructions paper, excitedly, he gasps. “You can wear the wings!” he exclaims

“Okay hold on this is important- How do you get the wings off!?”

“This is about to get real. Hold on I’m getting Kiara”

“Sweetheart!” Matt can be heard in the background of the camera, calling out for his daughter as he’s walking towards the living room where his 3-year-old daughter is sitting on the carpet having a tea party with her mom, Ella (her soft, adorable, stuffed bear) and Ivy (the family’s cat).

“Hey cutie I have something for you” Kiara jolted up, excitedly, her dad always had the best gifts. She jumped up into his arms, him catching her with ease, used to her liking to be held. She had her legs wrapped around his waist and her face in his neck as he softly rubbed her back with his right hand, holding her up with his left.

He turned around going back to the kitchen but before getting in front of the camera he softly asked, “Are you okay with being in the video baby?” she nodded, excited for what her dad had for her. “You sure? I need words, princess, if you don’t want to be in it, I can show you after we’re done. There’s no pressure I want you to be comfortable”

“I’m sure daddy” she nodded her head to him. “I’m always comfortable with you” she added, making his heart melt and his smile widen, his eyes gleaming with content. “I’m glad baby, want nothing more but for you to be happy and comfortable” he says, kissing her head as he walks towards the counter where his brothers are waiting for him.

Usually, Matt and his brothers would film their Wednesday video earlier in the morning so Kiara would be in preschool at the time. However, she recently fell victim to the flu which resulted in her parents keeping her home for a few days. It was now getting later in the night and Kiara had gotten out of the bathtub a few hours ago, While she was getting dressed in her favourite pyjama set- long sleeve pink top with “princess” written on it with a cute sparkly crown and pants with the same design on the right leg, she had made both her mama and dada promise to have a sleepover in her room that night- as she always does when she’s sick.

Matt was not going to break that promise. So, although it was late, and an hour past the girls' bedtime, they let her stay awake until they finished filming.

“Hey pretty girl” Chris says to Kiara looking at her in Matt’s arms as he sits back down next to him, putting Kiara on his lap. “FAIRY WINGS!” Kiara exclaims, her eyes widening as she looks on the counter quickly snatching them as if a robber was going to come for them.

“Jesus Christ girl no one’s stealing them from you” Nick states as Matt laughs at his daughter’s excitement and possessiveness over the wings.

“You want me to put them on you?”

“Yes! Please I want to be a princess fairy” She quickly replies, dragging out the words. “Alright come on”

Matt grabs her from her hips and sets her up on the counter, her fuzzy socks keeping her warm from the cold. She turns around facing her dad ready for him to put the wings on her, so she could be a real princess fairy, with real fairy wings.

“Arms up” Matt tells her as he sees his wife leaning on the entry to the kitchen, watching her favourite people in amusement.

Kiara quickly puts her arms up causing her shirt to slide up with her- “you’re getting taller baby we need to get you big girl pyjamas” Matt says as he puts her shirt back down knowing the weirdos that are on the internet.

He’s careful with his words, most people would say “bigger” but he did not want his daughter to overthink his wording, even if she was only an innocent 3-year-old unaware of society’s criticism on “bigger” people.

“No I like these want to wear em’ foever’ and ever” she replies, absolutely shocked by the idea of getting rid of her super special perfect princess pyjamas

“We could get you similar ones baby just a size up since you’re growing up- you’ve had those for over a year baby you’re getting older” Matt says as he ties the string of the fairy wings around his daughter's chest, already planning the new pyjamas he’s going to get her.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to tie behind her, isn’t it?”

“Nick it’s wings dude”

“Yeah dude”

They all chuckle at Kiara’s agreement with her uncle Chris.

Matt ties a bow with the strings. “Is that good? Not too tight right?” He asks not wanting the pressure tied around her to hurt his baby girl.

Kiara grabs the stuffed unicorn from the counter hugging it tightly around her chest as she jumps back onto her dad's lap. “Wait Kia here” her mama says handing her the tiara and wand, going to stand behind Matt with her arms on his shoulders “Thankyou mommy, now I’m a true princess fairy” she gleams happily.

“Wait who did we get?” Matt says looking over the paper that came with the toy as he leans back into his wife while another arm is wrapped around his daughter, making sure she doesn’t fall off his lap.

“That’s Ruby”

“That’s clearly Ruby, Matt”

“Is it Ruby?” he says as he looks at the unicorn in his daughter's grip.

“Oh then they want you to collect them all so it’s a scam”

“There’s more? I want them all! Can I have more please?” Kiara asks hopefully giving her dad those eyes that he can never say no to. “I don’t think we can get them all sweetheart, there's too many but we can get another one next time we go to Target” Matt’s wife replies before he manages to, knowing he would’ve said yes and bought her thousands of dollars’ worth of these toys if she didn’t step in.

As the boys look over the next toy Kiara plays around with Ivy in the kitchen, getting bored from the lack of princess toys and wings. She can still hear her dad and uncles talking and looking over toys, when another toy comes up and her dad says, “Oh you got to turn her on” they all erupt in laughter.

She looks up, confused about what’s so funny about turning on a toy so you can play with it. “I meant like on the bottom dude, the actual power button- you guys are sick” Matt says as the laughter calms down, Kiara, confused, asks her dad “What other way would you turn her on?”

“Oh sweetie I think your dad knows plenty of ways to turn a woman on especially your mum” Chris gets slapped in the back of his head. “Don’t say that Chris” Matt says in shock, not wanting to explain to his daughter what they’re talking about. “Why?” Kiara asks, still confused.

“See Kiara when two people love each other very much” Chris starts only to be stopped by Matt once again. “Like my mommy and daddy?” she questions, Chris is unable to answer as Matt’s hands are over his mouth, blocking out his words.

“Exactly like your mommy and daddy”

“Nick!” Matt exclaims in shock.

“I’m confused” Kiara states looking at them annoyed.

“Don’t worry about it baby, Uncle Chris and Uncle Nick are being stupid as usual, ignore them” Matt replies hoping she’ll let it go.

“Do you turn mommy on?” She wonders trying to get to the bottom of this. Loud laughter erupts from the girls’ uncles. “Uhm- well you know when me and mommy kiss?” Matt says to her, trying to get around it without having to lie or keep something from his daughter, after all, it’s a normal thing. As she nods, he continues “Well- It has to do with that, okay? It’s only done when two people are in love and married” Matt is obviously aware that two people do not have to be in love or married to kiss or "turn eachother on" but he didnt want his baby knowing that.

“Oh okay” Kiara replies, pleased with the answer of knowing more about love.

She’s always loved love, especially when it has to do with her parents, she loves knowing they are in love, she loves watching them kiss, laugh and hold each other. She believes she got lucky to have parents so in love.

“Pretend this is my second kid, okay? You guys are uncles again and Kiara has a sibling” Matt says as he starts feeding the toy lamb its bottle.

He starts having déjà vu of when Kiara still drank out of the bottle, he misses those times but is so happy to see her grow up.

He starts to picture himself feeding their second kid, knowing the “pretend” would soon be real as the married couple found out the night before that they’re 6 weeks pregnant and expecting their second. He was so excited and couldn’t wait to start telling people he was going to have another baby, especially couldn’t wait to tell Kiara she was getting a baby sister- or brother, but he secretly wished it would be another girl.

As Matt is playing around with the Barbie doll he and his brothers opened he feels a tug on his pant leg, he looks down and sees his daughter who previously left to go potty back in the kitchen, he notices she has taken off her tiara and tried to tie her hair up, she always had issues with turning the hair tie, but she’s trying hard to learn to do her hair and he’s proud of that. “Yeah baby?” He asked her as he looked down at her as his brothers continued to play with the doll.

“Can you put my hair up please” she mumbles, getting tired.

“Yeah, baby of course” He lifts her, setting her down on his lap

“What do you want sweetie? Ponytail?” He asks her as he starts gently leading her curly hair back and grabbing it all together, untying some strands that got stuck on her fairy wings.

“Can you do a braid please”

“Yep” He replies, gently stroking his hand over her head as he kisses the back of her head, starting to separate the hair pieces for the braid.

He can notice she’s getting tired, it’s well past her bedtime now but what worries him is when he hears a sniffle “Are you okay sweetheart?” he asks in worry that she’s crying as he finishes up the braid. She wipes her nose with her long sleeve “Yeah daddy, just have to blow my nose” Matt sighs in relief, knowing she’s not upset just sick.

He grabs a hair tie from his wrist where he always keeps extras in case she or his wife needs one.

He ties the end of her hair, makeing sure to keep the braid secure.

He grabs a small packet of tissues that he stored in his pants in case she needed to blow, knowing how annoying a runny nose could be, he opens one up for her and holds it in front of her nose as she blows on it, he scrunches it up and puts it away on the counter to throw away later.

Matt continues with the video keeping Kiara snuggled up on his lap as she too starts to play with the Barbie dolls.

Kiara is now softly held in her mom’s arms as she walks back into the kitchen, “Hey you guys almost done? She doesn’t want to sleep without you there Matt”

He looks up, eyes gleaming as he sees his two favourite girls walk in the room “Yeah we’re practically done just have to do the outro” Nick replies as Matt leans closer to his girls, pretending to knock on both of their heads with the toy hammer, making both of them giggle.

“Daddy is like Bob the builder with the belt” Kiara states, laughing at her dad.

“Oh yeah?” Matt replies, starting to tickle her which causes her to laugh and her mom to giggle at them.

Matt grabs her out of her mama's arms and tightly hugs her close to him, grabbing his wife’s hand and pulling her into the hug as well.

“Family hug” he exclaims giggly, as he kisses his daughter's head, then his wife, and pretends to kiss his wife's belly knowing he can’t do that without striking suspicion.

“Also, just in case you guys are wondering we’re not throwing all of this away, my mom’s going to donate it to some little kids she knows” Nick tells the camera.

“Kids in need” Matt adds.

“Except unicorn and wings” Kiara chimes in.

They all laugh at her eagerness for the unicorn and its wings, “Except for the unicorn and its wings, Kiara wants to keep them” Nick adds to his previous statement.

“I want to keep everything, but I can share” The girl adds.

“So kids will have fun with these toys” Nick starts to continue talking directly to the camera but Kiara interrupts.

“Can we give the kids my old toys too? And the ones I don’t play with? I think some of them would like my toys”

“I think some kids will love your toys sweetie” Her mom adds, proud of her daughter for wanting to donate,

“Yeah Kia that’s great”

“That’s so sweet of you Kiara I’m sure they’ll appreciate it”

Matt gleams brightly at his daughter “I’m glad you want to donate Kiara that’s really good” He says proudly

“You’re so sweet and kind” he kisses her cheek.

“Sweetest girl in the world” her mama continues, kissing her other cheek.

Matt leans closer to his wife, pressing a kiss on her lips.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah baby?"

"Did that turn mommy on?" She asks referring to their previous conversation.

Lond laughter erupts from all of the boys.

"What!?" Matt's wife exclaims confused as they all continue laughing

“Okay, we’ll see you guys next Friday!”

“Bye!” Kiara says as she continues to drag out the word, waving goodbye to the camera.

Comments:

Fan1: OMG KIARA!!! MISSED SEEING HER IN VIDEOS

Fan2: came for the triplets, stayed for kiara

Fan3: MATTS SUCH A GOOD DAD?? AND HE KNOWS HOW TO BRAID???

Fan4: the way he holds her and is so gentle with her 😭😭😭 wish i had a dad

Fan5: the facr that he made sure zhe was okay being on camera is so so cute and adorable and hot and sexy

^iammattswife: so real for that comment

Fan6: Need more kiara content please

Fan7: THE TURNING HER ON JOKES LMAOSOO

Fan8: Kiara is so sweet u can tell shes being raised right

Tags: @cindylcuwho @keerahsturn

#matt sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #matt sturniolo oneshots #sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo imagine #sturniolo triplets smut #chris sturniolo x reader #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #nick s

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jgracie · 2 months

Text

(E)STELLAR BABYSITTING!

masterlist | rules

in which you and percy babysit his younger sister estelle (and chaos ensues)

pairings percy jackson x fem!reader, platonic!percy jackson x estelle blofis, platonic!fem!reader x estelle blofis

warnings reader wants kids in this, knife mention (no one gets hurt dw)

an mentioned this in my percy dating hcs so obviously i had to write it

When Percy asked you if you wanted to help him babysit Estelle for the day, you agreed with no hesitation. You saw how hard his parents worked, and living in Camp Half-Blood taught you to never underestimate the difficulty of dealing with little kids. Besides, you love Percy’s family and spending more time with your boyfriend wouldn’t hurt, right?

If only you knew how wrong you were.

“Babe, baby, Y/N,” Percy said, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his chest, “you don’t need to read all of that, I’ve got in here!” You took a glance at him and found him tapping on his head.

You smiled, continuing to read as you mumbled, “well, I don't.” The ‘that’ in question was a paper with a bunch of notes Sally had scribbled down for the two of you before she left. They were really simple things, like Estelle’s nap times and favourite foods, but you couldn’t help but go through them thoroughly just in case, since you really didn’t want to mess this up.

Percy grabbed the paper from your hands and threw it away, grinning at the shocked expression you sported. Soon enough, you let out a chuckle and then he started laughing, which triggered you to laugh even more, resulting in the two of you writhing on the floor in laughing fits, arms wrapped around your stomachs as tears fell from your eyes.

Until you remembered what you were here for. Suddenly stopping, you looked around and realised Estelle was nowhere to be seen, “Percy, she’s gone,” you said, your heart beating faster and faster. Percy quickly got up and began frantically searching for his sister, mumbles of “oh my Gods,” and “mum’s gonna kill me,” tumbling out of his lips. You were in a very similar position, biting your lip and fighting back tears (of anxiousness this time) while looking for Estelle, praying to your Godly parent and any other who happened to be listening that she was safe and you’d find her soon.

“Pretty,” you heard a child’s voice whisper. Immediately, you and Percy ran to the kitchen, and sure enough, Estelle was there. Somehow, she managed to climb up the counter, sit there and play with a knife. You yanked the knife from her hand and breathed a sigh of relief at the fact that she was unscathed.

Picking her up and setting her down on the floor, Percy said, “I’m gonna hide all the utensils, and then we’re getting out of here. I don’t think the house is safe anymore. Could you get her ready?”

“Sure, but where are we going?” You asked, lifting Estelle and rocking her up and down as she absentmindedly played with the beads on your camp necklace. Percy paused for a second, thinking about where to go before choosing the park nearby. It was walking distance, so you wouldn’t need to take the bus, decreasing your chances of losing Estelle.

While Percy babyproofed the house, you changed Estelle into a cute skirt and matching t-shirt she’d gotten from Poseidon himself. You never would’ve thought the God was a fashion diva, but there’s a first time for everything!

“Okay Stella, what do you want to do with your hair?” You asked, setting her down on a stool facing the vanity as you started looking for all the various hair tools you could use. Noticing her silence, you stopped and slowly turned, afraid to find her gone again. Luckily, she was where you put her, her eyes wide as she stared at you.

You were about to repeat your question when she pointed her finger at you, beaming and saying, “pretty.” Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help but smile back at her, her words tugging on your heartstrings. You shyly mumbled a “thank you,” your face heating up as you asked your question again. This time, she answered you, deciding on a braid.

Braiding and humming a tune, you felt content. Sure, the babysitting hadn’t started great, but the park was always a good idea. There, you’d be able to keep a watchful eye on Estelle at all times, since there aren’t any kitchens for her to hide in. You were so wrapped up in your braiding you didn’t notice a certain pair of watchful sea-green eyes locked on you. Percy leaned on the doorframe of the room, not wanting to make a noise as he quite enjoyed staring at your serene facial expression - the type you’d only ever see demigods make in their sleep, and even that was rare considering all the nightmares.

“Okay, I’m done! You look so gorgeous, Stella!” You exclaimed, really proud of your work. At the sound of your happy voice, she started giggling.

“I’m starting to think you like my sister more than me. Don’t I look gorgeous too, babe?” Percy asked, finally making his presence known as he took long strides towards you. He pouted, feigning hurtness.

Giving him a peck on the lips, you said, “you look the most gorgeous, Perce.” Satisfied with your answer, he began peppering kisses all over your face, slowly nearing your lips before you put a hand on his chest, stopping him.

“There’s a kid here,” you said, smiling at Percy’s scowl. And with that, the three of you headed to the park.

Your journey to the park was a quick one with no issues, as each of you walked with one of Estelle’s hands in yours, preventing her from running away. Now that you were there, you freed her from your clutches, allowing her to play while the two of you sat on a bench nearby, making small talk and occasionally cheering her on whenever she glanced at you.

“She’s such a sweet girl,” you told Percy, leaning your head on his shoulder. He hummed, a goofy smile on his face as he thought of the idea of the two of you having a child - one with his hair and your eyes, or maybe his eyes and your hair, it didn’t really matter. You noticed this and raised an eyebrow, asking, “what’re you smiling about?”

Percy blushed, suddenly awfully shy, “would you wanna have one with me?” He asked, making your eyes widen.

“I mean, obviously not now, but in the future, yeah,” you smiled, already knowing Percy would be the perfect father for your kids. You continued to talk about your future kids, toying with the possibility of them inheriting your demigod powers, and were so wrapped up in your own world you didn’t notice a certain girl you came to the park for was gone.

“Wait, where’s Estelle?” You asked, unable to see her anywhere.

“Oh Gods, not again!”

#percy jackson x reader #percy jackson x you #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson #percy jackson x fem reader #pjo #pjo x reader #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson drabble #cynwrites

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slut4thebroken · 3 months

Text

Second Chances

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Pairing | Emmett x reader

Summary | Emmett takes advantage of your kindness and hospitality.

Warnings | Smut, 18+, non con, emotional manipulation, praise, guilt tripping, very large age gap, painful sex, first time, breeding, crying, bro has hella trauma fr.

Words | 2.5 k

Notes | Direct result of my Emmett brain rot (Also two fics in one day??🫣)

Ao3 link | <3

Masterlist

“Here you go.” You smiled, handing the steaming mug to him.

“Thanks.” His voice was quiet as he took it from you and held it in his lap.

“What’s your name?” You asked, sitting down next to him, hoping you weren’t intruding too much. He paused for a moment, seemingly debating if he actually wanted to make conversation with you and give you “personal” information about himself.

“Emmett.” He finally said.

You gave him your name and watched as his eyes dragged down your body, taking in every inch of you. With a blush, you cleared your throat and looked away for a moment to gather your thoughts. “Are you sure you don’t need anything else? Are you warm enough?” He looked over you again with a neutral expression that made you squirm a little.

“Actually I’m still a little cold. Is there anywhere I could go that’s inside?”

“Oh- yes! Of course.” You said quickly as you got to your feet. “My parents will be out of the house for another couple of hours so you can use some extra blankets and maybe lay down on the couch for a while.” You smiled. He didn’t return the expression as he stood up and followed you for a couple minutes until you finally walked up a porch to the front door.

“Okay, let me just grab another blanket and then I’ll start the fire place as well.” You ran off to retrieve a blanket and when you came back, he was sitting on the couch looking around the room.

He gave you a small “thank you” after you handed him the blanket and you could feel his eyes on you as you walked forward, then kneeled down in front of the fireplace. “You live here with your parents?” He suddenly asked, almost startling you.

“Yeah. Since there’s three of us, we got our own place. A lot of other people had to share.” He hummed in acknowledgment and you finished up with starting the fire before turning around to face him, finding his eyes already on you. “Can I get you anything else?”

“This is more than enough.” He said softly.

“Okay… Well, I’ll let you rest. If you’re hungry I can try to make something?” You offered with a kind smile.

“Actually I’d rather talk with you.”

“Oh-” You said, eyes widening in surprise— He didn’t seem like the kind of man who would want to make small talk with a stranger. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. It’s been a while since I’ve talked to someone like this.” You hesitantly got up and sat down next to him on the couch.

“Like what?” You asked curiously.

“So loud… and about things other than survival.” His voice was still quiet, but this time there was a bit of a solemn undertone to it.

“Oh.” You bit your lip, trying to think of what to say, but not really knowing how to approach this. “You never… had anyone to talk to about normal stuff? Surely it wasn’t all survival.” You can’t even imagine what he must have experienced. When he suddenly looked away and clenched his jaw, you realized that you might’ve over stepped. “I’m sorry, that was— I shouldn't have pried…”

“It’s fine. I had a family, but they’re gone now.” He still wasn’t looking at you. Taking one last sip from the mug, he leaned forward, then placed it on the coffee table.

“God, I- I’m so sorry.” You said quietly.

“It’s silly, but… I miss being able to hug them— to hug people.” He finally looked at you again, this time with a sad smile. “I remember the last time I felt someone’s touch… 11 weeks ago.” That must have been when his family died…

“Would you like a hug?” You offered nervously, hoping you weren’t too bold again. He studied you for another moment before nodding.

“That would be really nice.” Once you had his approval, you moved closer and wrapped your arms around him, letting him do the same even though his wet clothes were starting to dampen yours. He let out a quiet breath and relaxed into the embrace. “Thank you… I’ve been so lonely.” He whispered, making you frown.

“You won’t have to be anymore. The people here are very kind, you’ll make plenty of friends.”

“I can tell.” His voice was a little amused now and he pulled back just enough to look at you. “If it’s not too much trouble… could I hug you a little more?”

“Of course.” You said instantly, then let out a startled sound when he lifted you onto his lap so you were straddling his thighs. You thought he meant more as in for a longer period of time, not.. this…

“Thank you.” He said again, pulling you closer and burying his face in the crook of your neck. You were stiff for a few seconds, still trying to process this new development, but finally you relaxed into him and hugged him a little tighter. “I’ve almost forgotten what it feels like.” He whispered against your neck.

“To hug?” You wondered, trying to understand.

“Yes. But also the gentle touch of a woman.” A blush took over your face and you cleared your throat awkwardly. “You know, my wife… I was with her when she passed.” He said quietly. You were already dreading where this was going, not sure you could handle learning about any more of the pain he’s suffered since the start of everything. “I had a really hard time understanding and accepting this… but she said she wanted me to move on. To be happy again.” One of his arms stayed wrapped around your upper body, but the other moved a little lower, pulling you closer so your hips were also flush with his.

“Emmett…” You said quietly, trying to pull away, but he just tightened his grip and you finally felt the bulge pressed up against your heat. You tried not to gasp at the realization.

“Shh… It’s okay. I just— You look so much like her…” You had no idea what to say. You’ve never been in a position like this before. “I’m sorry.” He suddenly pulled away and you stared down at him in confusion. “I’m sorry. I don’t deserve this. Not after everything I’ve done— everything I didn’t do.” Your lips parted, but no words could come out for a moment.

“You deserve feeling safe and cared for. Everything you had to do was for the sake of staying alive.” At least you assumed it was. Honestly you have no idea what he’s done. “And it’s not your fault— what happened to your family. You did everything you could.” You said softly and he started shaking his head. “Yes. You can’t blame yourself, Emmett. Maybe that’s why your wife said that to you before she passed… because she knew how much you’d struggle with it.”

“You remind me of her so much.” He said through a choked sob, making you freeze. You had no idea he’d get so emotional. Not knowing what else to do, you just pulled him back into the hug and held him tightly. “That’s exactly the kind of response she would’ve given.” He croaked. In response, you just hugged him even tighter.

“It’s okay…” You whispered. “I’m so sorry, Emmett. No one deserves to go through what you have.”

“It hurts.” He cried, making your heart ache for him.

“Tell me what you need. How can I help?” You said quickly, not wanting to see him like this any longer.

“Can I— can I kiss you?”

“What?!” You choked out, making him pull back to look at you. The tear tracks on his cheeks were far less than what you thought they’d be, but maybe they just wiped off on your dress.

“Please. I miss her so much and… god you look exactly like her.” He whispered, bringing a hand up to cup your cheek.

“I…” You’ve never kissed anyone before. Are you really about to give it away to a stranger you just met less than an hour ago? “Emmett…”

“I know I don’t deserve it— I know. But I just… it hurts so bad, I can’t take it.” He all but whimpered, making your hesitant expression melt into something softer and more sympathetic.

“…I’ve never kissed anyone before.” You admitted quietly and you swore his eyes darkened, but it was too hard to really tell.

“I know I’m asking far too much of you— I know I don’t deserve your kindness,”

“Stop saying things like that.” You frowned. “You deserve kindness, you deserve to feel loved, just like everyone else.” He stared at you for a moment, his eyes still glossy with tears, then he was suddenly leaning forward and capturing your lips in a kiss. You let out a muffled sound of surprise and brought your hands to his chest, trying to push him away. In response, he snaked his hand around your head to grasp your hair, holding you still as he moaned quietly.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled against your lips. You let out another startled sound when he suddenly threw you off of him so you were laying on your back on the couch. Before you could move away, he was crawling over you, kissing you again as his hands roamed your body.

“Emmett-” You tried to say as you continued pushing his chest, but he was too strong. “Stop!”

“I know.” He panted before snaking his hand down your stomach all the way to the apex of your thighs. He slipped under your dress easily and roughly cupped your sex, making you whimper.

“Emmett, please stop.”

“I will. I will— I just need this. I haven’t been with a woman in so long…” He whispered. “I promise I’ll be fast.”

“Please don’t,” You whimpered, already feeling tears brimming in your eyes.

“I know. I’m sorry.” His hand suddenly left your body to open his pants and free his cock, then he was pulling your panties to the side and lining up.

“Please! I- I’m a..” You sobbed, trying anything to get this to stop.

“I’ll be gentle.” He promised, then faltered and added, “At least… I’ll try to be.” When you felt the head of his cock drag through your folds, your body went completely rigid.

“Please! Emmett, please don’t,” You cried, still trying to push him away.

“Shh…” The blunt head of his cock was against your entrance now, pushing as hard as possible, trying to fit inside you. When he finally breached your opening, his hand slapped over your mouth, muffling your shrill scream. “Oh— fuck… I'm not gonna last.” He moaned loudly, letting his head drop down for a moment. The tears in your eyes were finally falling and you sobbed almost violently behind his hand. Your crying only got worse though when he continued pushing in.

“Almost there.” He whispered and you let out an anguished sob in response. It felt like you were being ripped open as he continued pushing deeper, a lot farther than what you could comfortably take. “Good girl… Just a little more.” Your body was trembling from the pain and you started clawing at him, trying anything to get this to stop. But he was undeterred. When he finally bottomed out, he let out a low groan that was overshadowed by your cry of pain.

“I know… I’m sorry. Fuck, you feel so good. Just like how she felt.” He whispered. “I think she’d be happy that it’s you.” He gave you a small smile, then slowly pulled out until only the tip was inside before forcing it back in.

“Please!” You cried, the word coming out muffled from behind his hand.

“God- your cunt is so good.” He groaned, picking up the pace, making you cry harder.

“Stop! Please…” You whimpered brokenly.

“I know, baby. I’m almost done, I promise.” He said breathily. You tried kicking your legs, thrashing under him, pushing him away, but he was too strong. “Just a little longer, you’re doing so good.” He removed his hand, but before you could scream, he was kissing you again. This time, he shoved his tongue passed your parted lips, licking into your mouth in a desperate, almost feral manner. That, along with the fact that you couldn’t focus on this kiss because of how hard you were crying, made it incredibly messy and sloppy and wet.

He snapped his hips into you, chasing his orgasm as he kissed you like he’d never be able to kiss anyone ever again, making it feel like you could barely breathe. Mostly because of the kiss, but also because of how overwhelming the pain of the stretch was. He continued kissing you and his facial hair felt scratchy against face, only furthering your discomfort.

“I’m close.” He whispered against your lips. At least it was almost over. “I haven’t filled up a cunt in over a year.” He practically growled, making you stiffen again.

“N-no… Emmett, please don’t. Please pull out.” You begged desperately, trying to speak coherently through all of the crying.

“I thought you said I deserve this? That I deserve to finally be happy after everything.” He frowned, making you falter.

“I didn’t mean… this.” You choked out, not sure what else to say.

“I know…” He said quietly, letting his eyes flutter shut. “I’ll try to pull out.”

“Emmett, please. You have to,” He leaned down and cut you off with another kiss as his thrusts became even rougher.

“You’re such a good girl…” He murmured against your lips, breathing heavily as he neared his release. “So good. I’m gonna make you mine. I’ll take care of you, just like I took care of her. But we’ll be safe this time...” You shook your head, unable to do anything else. “No monsters, no illness— It’s gonna be perfect. We’ll even have some boys, yeah?”

“No,” You sobbed, quickly feeling defeated. You couldn’t stop this no matter how hard you tried. “Please, Emmett… I just turned 18, I- I can’t…” He moaned quietly when you said that.

“Shh. Yes you can. I’ll help you, baby, we’ll do it together.” You shook your head in disagreement as you continued to cry. “Fuck,” He choked out, eyes closing again. “Ready?”

“No— no, Emmett… please. Please pull out!” You yelled, making him curse under his breath. With one final groan, he forced his cock all the way in, pushing up against your cervix uncomfortably.

“Oh, good girl.” He moaned, lazily rutting into you as he rode out his high. “So fucking good. So tight… milking every fucking drop.” He said proudly, making you cry harder at the verbal reminder that he just came inside you.

“Emmett…” You whimpered, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

“Thank you.” He said through a breath. “Thank you so much.” He almost sounded like he was about to cry in relief and that made you falter. This man has been alone for weeks, just haunted by the memories of his family with no real outlet or source of comfort. So when someone finally offered him some… he jumped at the chance immediately. You probably would’ve done the same, had you lost your entire family.

“And I meant what I said. I’m going to keep you safe this time, I promise.” He said quietly, reaching down to feel where his cock was bulging your stomach— where a baby would be growing soon enough. “All of you.”

#emmett smut #emmett aqp2 #emmett a quiet place #emmett x reader #emmett x you #cillian murphy

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rollingsins · 9 months

Text

Quinn Bailey Must Die

P1 | P2 | P3

summary: Quinn Bailey is yours and Tara's man-eating, sexed up, horn-dog roommate. She's cool at first, you think. Until she sets her sights on Tara.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, language.

word count: 6.6k

a/n: set in the all hers universe, just a lil (big) one shot. love u guys, as always let me know your thoughts, always makes my day :))

Quinn Bailey is - to put it lightly - an absolute pain in your ass.

New York City is expensive.

College is expensive.

And despite your parents' assistance and you and Tara both working part time jobs, it just isn’t feasible for you to get your own place in the city.

So you’d put an ad in the paper. Found Quinn. She’d seemed fun at first - lively. The type of girl you’d want to be friends with in a new city like this. A tried and true party girl, glimmering like a jewel in a sea of dreary faces.

But her sparkle had lasted all of three weeks.

First it was the dishes.

She left them piled up in the sink, unattended. For days, sometimes weeks.

A little pet peeve of yours, but it wasn’t anything major.

It had nothing on the men.

They were like a revolving door. An entire roster of bodies to keep her warm.

Short men. Tall men. Thin men, muscular men. Men with beards. Men without. Pretty men, sometimes, even ugly men.

If he lived in the tri-state area and had a penis - likely he’d seen the inside of your apartment (and your roommate).

But really, you’re not in the position to complain.

You and Tara weren’t exactly known for having quiet sex, and of all the people you’d lived with, Quinn seemed to mind it the least.

Maybe, looking back, that should have been the first warning sign.

“I don’t know,” Quinn sighs one night over a glass of wine. Tara’s curled up in your arms, nursing her own glass as you play with her hair, “Sometimes I think I should just give them all up.”

“Men?” You ask, furrowing your brow. You laugh a little at the thought, “I don’t know Quinn, outside of partying, men are your biggest hobby.”

It’s not intended as a slight, and Quinn doesn’t take it as one. She throws a coy smile your way.

“I don’t know, you two have just got me thinking lately,” She says, “I’ve never considered girls before. I mean, I like dick. A lot. But maybe dick isn’t everything.”

“Poetic,” You say, an eyebrow raised.

Men or women, it didn’t really matter who Quinn bought home. You’d have to wear your noise canceling headphones regardless.

But Tara’s shifting in your arms, sitting up. Then, she narrows her eyes at Quinn.

Like she’s scanning her for a potential threat.

Although therapy had quietened some of Tara’s more jealous tendencies, it hadn’t gotten rid of them completely. Now, instead of stabbing - she chooses staring.

You rub her arm, your quiet signal there are no threats here.

“Besides,” Quinn says, throwing her hair back, “A chick can just strap one on, right? And it never goes soft. Maybe that’s an upgrade.”

Tara’s tense against you.

Quinn looks over at her, and suddenly notices the death glare she’s receiving. She pinches her eyebrows, a little confused.

“What’s got you all worked up?” Quinn asks, with another flick of her hair. Her eyes widen, “Oh? You think I’m trying to make a play for your girl?”

She leans back and lets out a loud laugh.

“Chill Tara, if I was going to go for either of you, it wouldn’t be her.”

And then it’s your turn to stare.

Your hand freezes over Tara’s arm. A hot, familiar feeling of jealousy seeps through you, settles deep within your bones.

Quinn catches your gaze and rolls her eyes.

“Girls,” She says, exasperated, “You’re not the only pussy-lickers in town. Relax, okay?”

Tara leans back into you, seemingly placated.

Quinn tilts her head, and downs the rest of her wine. She picks up her phone to call some other nameless man, no doubt to terrorize the two of you within the next half an hour.

The conversation is over.

But the jealousy bubbling under your skin doesn’t simmer down. And suddenly, it’s the only thing you can think about.

“What did she mean by that?” You agonize to Liv and Chad, a little later.

You’re in the NYU quad, picking at your salad with a plastic fork. Tara’s in class, giving you more than enough time to stew on the conversation with Quinn.

Chad slurps on his milkshake, seemingly unbothered.

“She was just being friendly, YN, I wouldn’t read into it.” Says Chad, mouth open and full of food.

Liv turns to him. Smacks his arm, a little too hard.

“Friendly?” She says, voice shrill, “Friendly?”

Chad blinks back at her, but she’s turning to you.

“YN, she was not being friendly, don’t listen to him. Boys are so stupid.”

“Hey-“ Interjects Chad, but Liv ignores him. She takes your arm.

“She’s making a play for Tara, YN,” She says, a little urgently, “Girls do this. We like to play with our food before we eat it. She was scoping out Tara’s reaction before she put the moves on her for real.”

You furrow your brow.

“You think?”

“I know,” Says Liv, “How do you think I got Chad?”

Chad looks over to her, a little owlish.

“Huh?” He says, creasing his forehead, “I asked you out, babe.”

Liv shoots him a look.

“You asked me out after I spent two weekends at your house asking for Mario Kart lessons.”

Chad’s eyes widen.

“You said that was so you could beat your brother!”

Liv gives you a look.

“Women are masterminds, YN. Watch the fuck out.”

Liv’s comments ring in the back of your mind for the rest of the day.

Now that you think about it, Quinn had been lounging about the house lately in scantily clad outfits.

Sleep shorts that rose almost up to her hips. Tiny tank tops that were almost see through. She giggled a little too hard at Tara’s jokes, gushed over Tara’s cooking as if Tara was Gordon Ramsey himself.

You’re starting to see it.

Quinn liked her conquests.

Men were easy, women a little harder - but for a girl who liked to conquer, who better than Tara?

Your sweet, loving, loyal and devoted girlfriend.

Prying Tara away from you wouldn’t be child’s play.

Truly the Mount Everest of conquests.

“What’s wrong baby?” Tara asks you a little later, after you’d spent half the night glaring at Quinn.

She’d been traipsing around all afternoon in a pair of black panties and an old t-shirt, an outfit that wouldn’t have made you think twice about it a few days ago.

But it’s different now.

Liv’s words ring loud in your head, “Women are masterminds, YN.”

You don’t respond, instead dropping a soapy pot to the countertop and watching as Quinn disappears into her bedroom, her phone pressed to her ear.

Tara snakes her arms around your waist, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your neck.

“Babe?” Tara prompts.

“Nothing,” You mumble. You’re in your own head now, half afraid if you say it out loud it will become true.

You feel Tara’s pout against your shoulder.

“Something’s wrong, you barely said anything when I tried to get you to watch Saw III,” She says, turning you in her arms.

She raises an eyebrow to punctuate her point.

“And you hate gore movies.”

“I like movies that make you happy,” You lie.

Tara furrows her brow.

“Okay, something is definitely wrong,” She says. She stands on her tip toes and presses the softest kiss to your cheeks, “Tell me babe, what is it?”

You bite your lip.

Tara is your girlfriend, you reason after a moment of hesitation, and if anyone were to understand jealousy - it would be her.

You sigh and loop your arms around Tara’s waist.

“Is Quinn… do you think she’s acting weird?”

Tara frowns.

“No weirder than usual.”

“It’s just…” you chew your lip, “I think she might.. be into you, babe.”

Tara shoots you a look.

“I don’t think so,” She says. She leans up and presses a kiss to your lips, “She has a pretty solid roster of dudes to keep her entertained.”

She brushes a stand of hair out of your face, “Is that what’s bothering you, baby? You know you have nothing to worry about. I only have eyes for you.”

It placates you for only a moment.

Of course you don’t have anything to worry about. Tara adores you. Tara’s killed for you. Tara loves you with every fiber of her being.

It’s just…

Quinn is pretty. So pretty.

Tara had fallen hard and fast for you, who’s to say she couldn’t fall the same way for someone else?

And then the dread is back.

“It’s just… Liv said-“

Tara groans.

“Babe, don’t worry about what Liv has said. She barely knows the days of the week.”

“But she knows how to get guys,” You say, a little pointed.

Tara tilts her head. Her eyes are warm, the softest smile on her lips.

“I’m not a guy,” Tara promises. She nuzzles her nose against yours, “Quinn could parade around here naked doing backflips and I wouldn’t look twice at her. You know that, babe.”

You do know that.

And so you let Tara press warm kisses into your neck and drag you back to the bedroom.

Make sure to moan a little louder than usual just to remind Quinn exactly who Tara belongs to.

It doesn’t work.

Because of course, why would it work?

The barrage of men flitting in and out of Quinn’s room comes to a screeching halt. She’s celibate for almost a week, focusing all her sexual energy on your girlfriend.

It’s subtle, in the masterful kind of way Liv described.

“Man,” She sighs loudly, one morning from her spot at the kitchen counter, “Tara, do you think you could help me on this paper for film class? I have to write a paper on iconic women in horror.”

Tara springs to action, charging away from you like this is her sole purpose in life: to share her catalog of benign horror knowledge to any pretty girl who looks her way.

You fold your arms, unhappily.

“Start with Ellen Ripley,” Tara commands, before she even sits down. Quinn begins typing, madly. Tara pulls up a chair next to Quinn’s, leaning in a respectful distance to peer down at Quinn’s screen.

“Signorney Weaver’s impact on horror is maybe one of the things that made me interested in horror to begin with.”

“I didn’t know that,” Quinn coos. She touches Tara’s arm, only slightly, leaning in until their shoulders brush, “That’s so cute, Tara.”

Tara draws back, clearing her throat.

“When you’re done with Sigourney, maybe touch on Jamie-Lee-Curtis.”

Quinn blinks over at her, eyes round, like an innocent doe.

You know better.

Your eyes narrow as you stand, reaching for your purse.

“Baby,” You remind Tara, leaning over to touch her back, “We need to get groceries today. Before Sam comes to visit.”

Quinn’s schoolgirl act drops immediately. Her eyes frost over slightly as she looks over at you, only the tiniest twinge of irritation apparent.

“Maybe you could do that later, YN?” She asks, voice tilted, “I have to get this paper done before tonight.”

“Sorry,” You flash her the mildest smile, not sorry at all, “Tara’s sister is coming all the way from California. We need to get the place ready, right babe?”

Tara nods, turning to Quinn to shrug.

“Google should be able to help,” She says, scooting off her chair and grabbing her coat, “Carrie’s a great film too, if you’re in a pinch.”

“Well, maybe you can help me when you get back?” Quinn asks, a slight pout on her lip as she looks at Tara.

Your eyes narrow, but Tara nods, helpfully.

“Sure.”

Naively, you’d hoped Quinn would get bored with this little game she’d started.

Her attention span is short, you’d reasoned, as soon as she’d figured out Tara isn’t returning any of her flirty looks or comments, she’d get bored.

You’d been wrong.

If anything, Tara’s lack of interest only seems to spur Quinn on more.

Most of your classes are in the mornings, Tara’s in the afternoon. Tara walks you to class, leaves you with a soft kiss and an “I love you”, but you know Quinn doesn’t work until the evenings, and it’s just her and Tara alone in that tiny little apartment for hours on end.

So you toil in your classes. Imagine the worst.

Tara and Quinn, sitting side by side, watching horror movies. Quinn touches her arm, then her thigh, leaning in to kiss her.

Tara bats her away, most times you think about it. But sometimes she doesn’t. Sometimes she lets herself be kissed. Sometimes she lets Quinn touch her, undress her. Fuck her.

And those sometimes become all you can think about.

This is a new challenge, one that has rarely surfaced in your relationship.

Tara is so enamored with you, most people don’t even bother attempting to seduce her. But Quinn isn’t most people, she’s persistent and pretty and maybe Tara isn’t a guy, but that doesn’t mean she can’t fall for the same traps a lot of them do.

A sticky hot, honey-trap by the name of Quinn Bailey.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a little stern when you walk into the apartment that afternoon. Tara’s curled up onto the couch, blanket wrapped around her. Quinn’s hovering over her, the back of her hand pressed against Tara’s forehead.

A prickle settles down the back of your spine. Your jaw clenches.

But Tara doesn’t even look over, just nuzzles herself deeper into her blanket.

“Tara isn’t feeling well, poor baby.” Quinn coos.

You drop your bag, ignore the rageful little demon in you that wants to bat Quinn’s hand away and fall to your girlfriend's side. The tip of Tara’s nose is red, and her lips are chapped. As she blinks up at you, you notice her eyes are hazy.

“Honey,” You say, all thought of Quinn gone as you press your lips to Tara’s cheek, “Why didn’t you call?”

“It’s nothing, just a cold,” Says Tara, but she curls into your side anyway. You press a gentle kiss to her clammy forehead and rub her arm. Quinn disappears into the kitchen, returning with a small bowl.

“I made her some tea,” Says Quinn, “And some soup from scratch.”

You blink up at her. You’ve never seen Quinn cook anything in her life. She’s all Deliveroo and fruit roll ups and toast. But the kitchen sink is awash with stray noodles and dirty pots. The smell of soup lingers.

“Thanks Quinn,” Tara murmurs, reaching out to take the bowl from her hands, “You didn’t have to do that.”

The angry, jealous demon is back. Quinn’s smile is unsettling, almost triumphant.

As if she’s out-girlfriend-ed you.

You swallow the urge to punch her in the throat.

“No, you didn’t.” You say, warily, “Tara’s allergic to MSG, you didn’t put any of that in it, did you?”

Quinn shakes her head, her smile coy.

“All natural, only the best for our girl.” Quinn says, and then squeezes Tara’s shoulder.

You glare as she cleans up the dirty plates and contemplate homicide for the rest of the evening.

When Tara’s feeling better, you’ll bring it up, you reason with yourself the next morning.

Quinn Bailey is becoming a pest, a horned up sex-pest determined to get her claws in your girlfriend.

It has to stop.

The solution?

This is where you’re a little stuck. You don’t know the solution. Strangling Quinn sounds great on paper, but not so much in practice.

Dead people don’t pay rent, that’s the only thing you know for sure.

You contemplate this over the next couple of days, between wrestling a hot water bottle for Tara out of Quinn’s hands, and almost jogging down to the corner store at the end of your block to beat Quinn for the tylenol.

Tara’s such a baby when she’s sick, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d think she’s starting to enjoy this. Two women fawning over her, competing for who can nurse her the best.

And the worst part is, Quinn knows exactly what she’s doing and she wants you to know it.

She doesn’t say it, not outright, too smart to play her hand too quickly.

She grins as she spoonfeds Tara some leftover soup, flashes you a look as she dabs Tara’s sweaty forehead with a damp cloth.

She raises an eyebrow at you as Tara croaks out to her, asking for more tissues.

It makes you stew.

It makes you want to grab the kitchen knife out of the top draw and slam it through her stupid neck.

It makes you want to grab her by the hair and throw her out of the window of your seventh story apartment.

But you resist.

Let her think she’s winning.

It’ll make the victory you claw from her hands all the more sweet.

Tara’s feeling better a few days later, and with her recovery comes the first taste of victory.

Quinn’s making dinner in the kitchen - her newfound passion being culinary for your girlfriend. She hums a little, flitting between batting her eyelashes at Tara and shooting knowing glances in your direction.

“Tara,” She says, just as she’s about to pour the tomato paste into the pasta “I can’t get this jar open. Can you help me?”

Tara’s busy with her laptop, but she moves over regardless. She touches your shoulder lightly as she passes, and reaches out to take the jar from Quinn’s hand.

It pops open immediately. You roll your eyes.

Quinn beams, and as you look up, she’s running her hand over your girlfriend’s bicep.

“You’re so strong,” She flirts, brazenly, “Thanks Tara.”

Tara moves back to her laptop, unperturbed.

When it comes to attention towards her she has always been oblivious. You let out a growl so low, no-one but you hears it.

“Dinner’s up, Tara,” Quinn says, a few moments later, pulling out a couple of plates.

You peer down at your book, suddenly very interested in the words. When Quinn had asked you your plans for the evening - grocery bags in hand - you’d neglected to tell her Tara had asked you out to dinner.

Tara blinks over at her, a little confused.

“Dinner?” She asks, closing the lid of her laptop.

“Yeah,” Says Quinn with a sickly smile, “I made your favorite.”

Tara tilts her head, “Oh. Sorry, Quinn, we’re going out tonight. I didn’t realize you were cooking for us.”

Quinn stares a moment.

“That’s fine,” She says, voice a little clipped, “Only, I asked YN and she said you guys were around.”

You close your book and stand, grabbing your coat.

“Oh yeah,” You say, smacking your hand to your head, as if you’d suddenly forgotten, “Dinner. I am so sorry, Quinn. Gosh, I am so forgetful sometimes.”

Tara peers over at you, a little confused.

Oblivious idiot when it comes to girls, yes, but not with you. You see the question in her eyes and neglect to answer it.

Quinn’s eyes harden, but she doesn’t dare give up the jig. Not in front of Tara.

“It’s fine,” She says, “Maybe you can have it for lunch.”

“Yeah, maybe,” Tara says, a little absent minded as you wrap her jacket around her shoulders.

You can tell she feels bad by the way she lingers.

“We haven’t had a date night in a while, that’s all,” Tara explains. She wraps an arm around your waist and squeezes your hip, “Besides, I owe this one a dinner for taking such good care of me these last couple of days.”

She presses a soft kiss to your lips, her brown eyes warm and shimmering.

You can’t help the smile that snakes across your lips.

Quinn crosses her arms, looking unhappy.

“I seem to remember taking pretty good care of you,” She says, drawing Tara’s gaze, “Maybe you should be taking me out to dinner, too.”

Tara’s eyebrows knit in confusion. She looks at you, a little helpless, like she’s suddenly aware she’s caught in a chess match she wasn’t aware she was playing.

Bless her.

Your poor, sweet, unsuspecting girlfriend.

You squeeze her hand, wrapping an arm around her shoulder.

“

“Did you get the feeling Quinn’s mad at me?” She asks, “Maybe we should have invited her to dinner. She did make me a lot of soup.”

You tilt your wine glass to your lips, needing the rush of the alcohol to get you through this conversation.

When you set it down, Tara’s blinking back at you, with wide, brown eyes.

“Remember what we talked about a couple of weeks ago, babe?” You say, “About my conversation with Liv.”

Tara nods.

“And have you noticed it, this past couple of weeks?” You prompt, “Quinn flirting with you?”

Tara tilts her head.

“No.”

“Tara, she touched your arm and called you strong,” You say, pinching the bridge of your nose. Quinn had gone to work earlier that day, blown a kiss goodbye to Tara as she’d left.

Made sure you’d seen it.

Tara shrugs, “I’ve been in the gym, babe, I’m getting stronger.”

She flexes her bicep.

“Look, babe, that’s all muscle.” She says, proudly.

“That’s not the point, Tara,” You say, “She’s flirting with you. She’s been flirting with you all week.”

Tara frowns.

“She has?” She asks, looking a little perplexed.

Then, she pouts.

“So she was just complimenting my lasagne because she wanted to sleep with me?” She says, looking put out, “I thought she really liked my new recipe.”

“Forget about the lasagne, Tara, this is not okay.” You say, “How would you feel if she were hitting on me?”

Tara frowns.

“Not good,” She admits, “Bad. Really, really bad.”

You sigh, dropping your fork onto your plate.

“She’s going to have to go,” You tell Tara, “If she can’t respect our relationship, she can get the fuck out.”

Tara bites her lip.

“Okay, babe,” She says, a little wary, “It’s just… rent is due next month and I don’t know how easy it’s going to be to replace her.”

She squeezes your hand, a little hasty as she sees the look on your face.

“I’ll talk to her,” Tara says, leaning up to kiss you, “I’ll remind her I’m taken and not interested. And if she still tries it after that, she goes. How’s that, babe?”

Tara’s talk with Quinn happens a little later.

You climb into bed, head tilted as you hear the quiet murmur of their voices down the hall. It doesn’t sound heated, and you hear Quinn giggling as she tells Tara goodnight.

You frown as Tara enters the room.

“It’s just a misunderstanding, baby,” She says as she climbs into bed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, “She doesn’t like me. She told me she’s just been a little clingier than usual because we’re her only friends.”

“Babe-“ You start with a huff, ready to climb out of bed but Tara’s hands grip around your waist.

“I know, I know, babe.” She assures, pressing another quick kiss to your neck, “I know you think it’s all bullshit so I told her straight up. I told her I’m in love with you and if she tries anything we’ll kick her straight out.”

You frown, turning in her arms, “Really?”

“Really.” Tara says, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, “And I promise to keep my distance, okay babe? She can flirt until the cows come home, it’s going to fall on deaf ears.”

She snuggles into your chest, soothing your hammering heartbeat with a kiss.

“I love you. Only you.”

True to her word, Tara goes out of her way to avoid Quinn.

Gone are their cozy little sessions on the couch watching horror movies. Tara refuses Quinn’s cooking, turns down each of Quinn’s requests to hang out, or help her with homework, or whatever other brainless task Quinn can think of to get them to spend time together.

The rental market is fucked, you discover in the interim.

No way can you and Tara afford to move out, and even if Quinn did leave, it could take months to replace her.

“No,” Mindy says, point blank when you ask her, “Not unless you and Tara swear to a vow of celibacy.”

You sigh, unhappily.

“Great,” You say, slumping back into your seat, “We’re going to be stuck with her forever.”

Mindy looks over at you, taking a little pity on you.

“Why don’t you ask Chad and Liv?” She suggests, “They won’t be able to hear you fuck over Liv’s soap operas anyway.”

“I already asked,” You say, voice gloomy, “They’re in a two year contract.”

Mindy shoots you a sympathetic smile.

“You’ll find someone,” She says, “You just need to put some feelers out there.”

And so you do.

You spend the morning in class writing up the ad. You’ll put in the paper tomorrow, you figure.

When you get home, ready to avoid Quinn and spend a night snuggling in bed with Tara, Tara’s already at the door.

“Hey babe,” Tara says, bouncing up to greet you with a kiss. She smiles, lowering her voice, “Missed you. Wanna shower with me?”

You smile and kiss her.

“You know we can’t,” You say, regretfully, “Last time we used up all the hot water.”

“So let’s have a cold shower,” She suggests, her smile turning into a leer, “I’ve got other ways to warm you up.”

“Izzie, how are you? It’s been ages!” Quinn sounds from the living room. Your smile drops - you didn’t realize she was home. Tara notices your face shift, and rubs your hip, comfortingly.

“She’s been good, babe, I promise,” Tara says, “Are you sure you don’t want to shower with me?”

“I’ll start dinner,” You say, leaning in to kiss her quickly, “You go, baby.”

Quinn’s in the living room, lounging across the couch when you enter.

“Yeah, I’ve never done it before,” Says Quinn. If she’s noticed you in the kitchen, she doesn’t acknowledge you. She kicks her shoes off and lays back into the couch, twirling her hair between her fingers.

“I just can’t stop thinking about it. You know? I really want to try it.”

You pull a few potatoes from the bag and pull out a knife.

Just a little while longer, you think, trying to stop yourself from glancing over. Just a few more weeks of her and then you’d never have to see her again.

Quinn looks over, catching your eye.

As if she can tell you’re thinking about her.

And then, she smiles.

“I met a guy last night, took him home because he looked a little bit like her. Dark hair, dark eyes, short.” She says, her voice dropping to a quiet murmur, “Fucked his brains out imaging it was her on top of me. Inside me. And she will be. Soon.”

She’s looking right at you. Her voice is a low taunt, daring you to take the bait.

And you fall for it.

Hook, line and sinker.

You slam the knife to the kitchen counter, cheeks flushing red.

“That’s it,” You growl as you launch at her, “You’re fucking dead, do you hear me?”

Quinn stares a moment, her jaw slacking.

As if she hadn’t realized her taunting would finally come to fruition.

In the form of you launching to grab at the end of her hair.

You tug at it, hard, determined to make the end of your fist meet the slant of her chin. She squeals, dropping her phone as you tug her towards you.

“YN,” She cries, “Stop it, you’re fucking crazy-”

“You think this is funny?” You growl, letting go of her hair to shove her back against the couch. You swing at her - and miss - and you know you must look crazed. All wild eyes, red-faced, three weeks of taunting finally setting you over the edge, “ You think trying to sleep with my girlfriend is a game?”

“Tara!” Quin screams as you launch at her once more, “Tara, help!”

Tara’s name on Quinn’s lips - if possible, just makes you angrier. You lunge over the couch, but she stands, squealing as she ducks your advances.

You hear the bathroom door slam, and a flash of dark hair before you turn to see Tara, soaking wet, towel pressed around her torso. Her hair is soapy with shampoo and she looks dismayed as she looks at the sight in front of her.

Quinn screaming like a child and you feral. Grabbing for her with all your might.

“Baby?” She says, sounding scandalized, “What are you doing?”

Quinn lets out a sob. Teary-eyed, she barrels over to Tara and stands behind her, grabbing at Tara’s arms as if she’s her knight in shining armor.

“She’s attacking me, Tara,” Quinn blubbers out through her crocodile tears, “Make her stop, please.”

“Oh, give it a rest, would you?” You say, voice harsh, “Tears? Really? Why don’t you tell Tara what you were saying about her on the phone, huh? Why don’t you be honest for once in your fucking life and tell her what you’ve been trying to do this entire time.”

“I was talking about a girl from my Chemistry class,” Quinn says, as if you’re crazy, “Her name is Charlotte, I wasn’t talking about Tara.”

“Oh, bullshit,” You scoff, “Just admit it. You’ve been all over Tara from day one.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, you crazy bitch,” Quinn says, “Look, just because you’re insecure, doesn’t mean I’m trying to sleep with your girlfriend.”

“Enough,” Growls Tara. She wrenches her hand away from Quinn, turning to round on her. The anger within you dissipates slightly. You swallow as you’ve realized Quinn has inadvertently awoken The Rage.

“Don’t you dare talk to her like that,” Tara says, her voice hot, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Quinn blinks at her.

“Tara, it’s fine,” You say, hurriedly, “Babe, leave it.”

And as much as you want to see Quinn get punched in the face, you don’t want The Rage to be the one to do it.

You’d paid for too much therapy to see that fucker unleashed again.

“Apologize,” Tara demands, her eyes flashing, “Apologize to her now.”

You reach for Tara’s hand, tug her back towards you, out of Quinn’s reach. Her heart is racing, her shoulders tight. You press your lips to her shoulder in an effort to soothe her.

Quinn’s face contorts. You half think she’s about to spit right in your face. Maybe take a swing at you of her own. But then her face softens.

“I’m sorry, YN,” She says, voice silky sweet, “It really was a misunderstanding. I think we’ve got off on the wrong foot. I’m sorry if I ever made you feel like I was trying to take your girlfriend from you. I’m not, I promise.”

She sounds sincere, but you see right through her.

“Alright,” Tara says, though her shoulders are still tight, “Good. Now I’m going to finish my shower, and the two of you are not going to kill each other. Right?”

Quinn nods, solemnly.

“Bedroom,” You tell Tara, “Now.”

“She’s going,” Is the first thing you say as Tara shuts the door. You’re pacing back and forth, your skin burning hot and red, “She’s fucking gone, Tara. I mean it this time. I don’t care if we have to sleep on Mindy’s couch for the next three years, I am not spending another second with her-”

Tara rubs her eyes. They’re a little red, stained with unwashed shampoo.

“Baby, why don’t you sit down for a bit?” She suggests, “Look at you, you’re all worked up.”

You turn to stare her down, anger flashing through your features.

“She was talking about fucking you, Tara,” You hiss, “Right in front of me. She was talking about how she wanted you inside her.”

Tara moves a little closer, trying to touch your arm. You shake her off to continue your pacing.

“You’re mine,” You seethe, “I don’t know what part of that is so hard for her to understand.”

“Baby-” Tara starts.

“You’re not talking me out of this, Tara,” You snap, “I want her gone. Tonight.”

Tara catches your arm. She draws you in for a long kiss.

She’s trying to settle you down.

It works.

“I’m yours,” She says, softly, “Like I already told you, you don’t have to worry about her.”

“You promised, Tara,” You say, voice agonized, “You promised if she tried anything else she’d be gone. And I swear to god, Tara - if you try to take her side-“

Tara shushes you with another kiss.

Then she draws back, her voice soft.

“Of course I’m not going to take her side, sweetheart,” Tara says, “I’m your girlfriend. I’m always on your side. She’s going. You don’t have to ask twice.”

This relaxes you a little. Tara presses another lingering kiss to your lips.

“Like hell we’re sleeping on Mindy’s couch, though,” Tara says, crinkling her brow, “Sam can lend us the money. She won’t mind.”

Sam might mind.

But it’s really the least of your worries.

“Thank you,” You say, sighing as you lean into Tara’s chest.

Tara squeezes your shoulders.

“Let me finish my shower,” She says, “And then I’ll talk to her.”

She eyes you, warily.

“Maybe you should take a walk or something, babe,” She says, after a moment of hesitation. She brushes your cheek, “You’re all red in the face.”

You frown.

“If you think I’m leaving you here with that sexed-up-piranha-” You start with a growl, and Tara draws her arms back around your shoulders.

“Alright, alright,” She concedes, “It’s okay, babe, we’ll do it together.”

But by the time Tara’s out of the shower, Quinn is long gone.

You spend the night seething, not even Tara’s gentle kisses enough to coax you out of your mood.

In the morning, you hunt through the apartment like a lion hungry for its prey but she’s nowhere in sight.

She’s stupid enough to try you, but not so stupid enough to hang around for the fallout.

When you head off to class, Tara reassures you with a gentle squeeze of your hand.

“She’ll be back here at some point,” Tara says, “As soon as I see her I’ll tell her to pack her bags.”

Economics flashes by in a rage-filled trance. You don’t even bother with your marketing paper. You’re worked up.

You just want her gone.

And so you skip the rest of your morning classes and head home.

You don’t bother smiling at the doorman, fish your keys out of your pocket in a grump.

When you get to the door, you tilt your key in the lock, fiddling around to pry the door open.

And then you hear it.

A cry - it’s Tara, and then you hear Quinn. She’s squealing again. You blink. Your mind runs rampant with the possibilities.

Tara with her knife, plowing through Quinn with the kind of ire only The Rage can bring.

Tara grunts, and it’s familiar. Your stomach lurches. You might be sick.

You know that grunt.

The indicator Tara might be plowing Quinn in a much different fashion.

Betrayal sinks deep within your veins. You fumble with the door, almost pry it off its hinges in your effort to barge through it.

It swings open, and the lump in your throat grows with the thought of what you might find on the other side of the door.

But what you see isn’t what you expect.

You blink.

Nothing could have prepared you for the sight in front of you.

“Tara,” You hiss as your jaw drops, “What are you doing?”

Tara has Quinn in a firm grip. Her legs are wrapped tight around Quinn’s waist, she has Quinn’s head between her arms in a chokehold. Quinn’s eyes are wide. She struggles desperately against Tara’s grip, eyes bulging as she tries to wrangle her way out.

The scene in front of you would be comical, if it weren’t real.

But it’s very real.

Quinn looks over to you the moment Tara does.

The sound of your voice is her escape.

Tara turns to you, grip lessening only slightly as she realizes your presence. Her brown eyes widen, the way they do when she knows she’s in trouble.

Quinn pulls herself out of Tara’s grip with a heavy gasp, almost shoving Tara to the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Quinn says, voice high as she stands, “Are you actually serious right now?”

“Explain, Tara,” You say, voice flat, “Now.”

Tara looks over to you, eyes wide. She splutters as she speaks.

“She tried to kiss me, babe,” Tara says, voice aghast, “She tried to kiss me and I didn’t know what else to do.”

Quinn’s breathing heavily.

She’s scary like this. Thundering over Tara’s tiny frame like she might snap her in two.

“I throw myself at you and your first reaction is karate?” Quinn says to Tara. Her eyes are wild. She’s pissed, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Tara fires back, “I have a girlfriend.”

You throw your bag to the ground. The heavy, unsettled feeling that’s stayed with you for the last three weeks is boiling. If Quinn doesn’t leave now, there’s no telling what you’ll do next.

“Get out,” You tell Quinn, “You don’t live here anymore. Get your shit and go.”

Quinn doesn’t move.

“Get out,” You insist, “Before I kill you myself.”

Quinn shoots an angry look at Tara, before redirecting it at you.

“Fine,” She says, “You two deserve each other. Fucking Jackie Chan and Princess Prissy-”

“Out.” You snap as she grabs her purse.

She shoots you an angry glare.

“You can forget about rent,” She sneers, “And good luck finding someone else to live in this shitty apartment.”

Your palms are sweating as she slams the front door shut.

Tara looks up at you, eyes still wide, a little sheepish as you close in on her.

“I didn’t kiss her babe, I swear,” Tara promises, leaning up to grab your hands, “She leaned in and I grabbed her before she could get close.”

“I know you didn’t, babe,” You say after a long moment. Your voice softens. You brush her dark hair out of her eyes, “I know.”

She’s quiet a moment.

“I’m sorry that we didn’t kick her out sooner,” She says, “I really did just think she was trying to be my friend.”

You sigh. Tilt your face to hers.

“I know, babe,” You say, then you snort, “I can’t believe you put her in a headlock. Sam’s going to love that.”

Tara pouts.

“She deserved it,” She says, “And speaking of Sam…”

She looks up at her, eyes shimmering.

“I talked to her about the rent,” Tara murmurs after a moment, “She agreed to help us out.”

“Oh?” You say. A spark of hope sears deep within your chest.

Tara bites her lip, “There’s a catch, though. She’s going to come live with us until we find a new roommate.”

“Oh.” You say with a frown.

“You’re not mad, are you?” Tara asks, a little hesitant, “I’d tell her no, but we’re really in a pinch, babe.”

“It’s fine,” You say, after a moment, “I don’t mind living with Sam.”

Tara hums. She leans in close against you.

“And hey,” You nudge her, trying to keep the mood light, “At least I don’t have to worry about Sam trying to get into your pants.”

Tara wrinkles her nose.

You laugh.

Lean down to kiss her, deep.

Fuck you Quinn Bailey, you can’t help but think.

You hope she enjoyed her little game.

Because when it comes to Tara, you never lose.

#ghostface!tara #scream #scream vi #tara carpenter #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x yn #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x yn #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #quinn bailey #mine #fanfic #all hers #jenna ortega x reader

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propertyofwicked · 3 months

Text

SECRETS part 4 - LN

content warnings: fluff, angst, drama (the whole shabang).

ur girl is going back to working full time tomorrow so if we have slow updates blame my place of work. also, im still recovering from the 4am wakeup and lando p3

part 1 -> part 2 -> part 3 -> part 4 -> part 5 -> part 6 -> part 7!

“max pick up the damn phone,” y/n said, taking great strides across the paddock towards the car park. once again, the phone call had gone to voicemail. she clicked his contact details, ringing him again. only this time, it didn’t even ring. the phone went straight to voicemail. and to add to the matter, max’s car had disappeared from the car park.

y/n sat on the empty floor of the empty parking spot her brothers car had been in, opening up her phone to check the time and send a message to max, she probably should’ve waited for the mix of fear and anger to fade, but here she was, tapping aggressively at the screen of her phone.

if you think you can ignore me forever, you’ve got another thing coming

dont think you can jump to conclusions and throw a childlike strop about this.

but of course, the messages stayed on delivered for hours. it was at least 2 hours before lando’s caller id popped up on her phone, still with no word from max.

“hey, where did you go? mum said something about you walking off,” lando asked her the moment she answered the call.

“currently? i’m sat on the floor of the car park. where are you - ill walk over now,” she said bluntly. he stayed on the line until she entered the mclaren unit.

“y/n? what do you mean max has left?” panic rising in his voice as she walked up to him, his hands coming to rest on her waist.

“i mean he’s left. gone. driven off,” she said with a shrug, “he won’t answer my calls, hasn’t read my texts, he’s just gone.”

“he might be at the hotel? we’ll drive over in a bit and see?”

“i don’t think we should do anything, i think we might have done enough damage for one day.”

“y/n your brother has just driven off. you should at least try and check if he’s at the hotel.”

“fine, but i’m going alone.”

“let me try and talk to him first, you never know something might’ve happened with P?” lando said, still stroking her hips softly, desperately trying to think of any reason that his best friend had up and left.

4 unanswered calls later, and lando and y/n found themselves sat on the sofa in his driving room again, her head laying on her lap as he stroked her hair, trying to resolve the anxiety.

“i don’t care what he thinks, y/n. i feel so strongly about you and i think i have for years.”

“i think i have too. but i hate the thought of people disliking me, let alone my own brother.”

“i know, angel. he’ll come around soon, i promise.”

“that man held a grudge against me for years when i accidentally scraped the side of his kart when i was 12,” she said, laughing sadly at the memory of their parents having to sit them down in the living room and make them apologise to each other. the moment was quickly interrupted by her phone ringing, max’s caller id popping up on the screen.

“ma-”

“no. don’t talk to me. you two have lied to my face for years about this. lando promised me he would never even think about you in that way. and you, i don’t know what ive done to you for you to go behind my back and fuck my best friend but it’s not on.”

“max i-” lando tried to reason with him.

“oh, of course he’s there. just waiting for the moment i left to start fucking my sister, didn’t you?”

“it’s not like that, max.”

“no? then what is it like? ‘cos from where im standing it’s pretty clear he’s been waiting years to take advantage of my little sister,” he argued down the phone, venom rolling off his tongue.

“take advantage of me?” she scoffed, moving to sit up and hold the phone next to her mouth, “who the fuck do you think you are to talk to or about me in that way? who gave you the audacity to believe you have any control over who i choose to date? you couldn’t care less about protecting me, you only care about protecting yourself," she said, her voice raising and her finger moving to point as if he were stood in front of her.

“he’s not right for you.”

“that’s your opinion max. if you can’t trust me, or lando for that matter, then why should i bother giving you a moment more to talk down to me?”

lando sat silently next to her, playing with his own fingers. this was not his fight to fight right now. he’d speak to max privately later, right now, he knew y/n needed to stand up for herself, and god was she smashing it.

“why can’t you just listen to me?” max sighed, defeated, “i know what’s good for yo-”

“go fuck yourself,” she said, hanging up the call, and dropping her phone on the floor besides her. lando’s arms move to behind her waist, pulling her back to rest into him on the sofa. the room fell into silence.

“im sorry,” she mumbled.

“don’t be sorry. this is on him, and me. i should’ve told him the truth the first time round. hell, i should’ve told you the truth earlier.”

“i’ve ruined your big day, lan. p2 - you should be celebrating, not arguing with your best friend.”

“im with you - that’s celebration enough,” he said, happy to see her smile for the first time in hours. she moved to lay her head back down on lando’s lap, this time looking up at him. a knock on the door brought the two of them back to reality, and cisca walked in, adam trailing slightly behind.

y/n contemplated moving, jumping away from the boy who was currently running his hands through her hair, but it had only been 4 hours of hiding whatever was going on between the two of them and she was already bored of keeping up the pretence.

“y/n, love, did you find max?” cisca asked, eyes softening at the scene unfolding in front of her. had she secretly wished for this for years? maybe.

“yea, he um, he went home.”

“he’s not happy about this, is he?” adam said, pointing between the two of you, yet even he couldn’t help but smile slightly.

“not happy, fuming, absolutely raging - i guess you could say that,” she replied, laughing slightly to ease any tensions.

“he’ll come around lovely, he can’t stay mad at you. you’re his sister after all.”

“i love that you think so highly of my brother, cisca. he will go to the grave holding this grudge if he can.”

“ill talk to him later ang- y/n,” lando said, correcting himself quickly, not comfortable enough yet to be overly affectionate in front of his parents.

“good luck with that,” y/n joked, patting him on the arm sadly.

later that evening, y/n found herself sat on the floor of lando’s hotel rifling through her bag to find her pyjamas. earlier, her and lando had driven to her hotel room, to find that max had packed his stuff and left as expected. she didn’t want to be alone, and lando didn’t want to leave her alone. her phone began to ring, and she answered it praying it wasn’t max.

“y/n the videos of you are going feral on twitter right now,” her best friend, caitlin, shouted down the phone the moment she picked up.

“stop it - what are people saying?”

“erm, some people think it’s cute?” he friend responded, voice laced in slight worry.

“…and the rest of them think im a slut?” y/n added, but her friend only responded with a hum.

“what’s max said?”

“from what i remember, he drove off leaving me stranded at the track and then rang me to say i was making a mistake, i was a liar and he never wanted to speak to me or lando ever again.”

“taking it well then,” the girl responded, y/n could hear her eyes rolling. at that moment, lando emerged from the bathroom, with just a towel hanging around his waist. any words y/n intended to say got stuck in her throat. he took strides towards her, noticing she was on the phone and pressing a kiss to the top of her head, before moving to his own suitcase to find a change of clothes.

“y/n…are you in lando’s room right now?”

“maybe?” y/n responded in a guilty tone, quieter than she had before, glad lando couldn’t hear the girl on the other side of the phone. however, he seemed to clock on to the question from the small grin on her face.

“girl why did you answer the phone? go spend time with your new controversial boyfriend.”

“he’s not my b- you know what, i’m gonna go.”

“dont do anything i wouldn’t do, stay safe!” her friend added cheerily, laughing as she ended the call. cheery was the furthest emotion from what y/n felt at this moment in time.

once y/n was in her pyjamas, she moved her way back into the room, lando was sat up in bed, his back resting on the headboard, phone in hand. he looked up as she walked in, patting the spot next to him for her to join. her face fell into a look that screamed apprehension.

“y/n nothing bad will happen if you get into this bed and cuddle with me.”

“something bad already happened,” she said, climbing under the duvet next to him nonetheless. his hand reached behind her waist pulling her into his chest, her head coming to rest on him.

“im happy this happened, but im not happy about every thing that’s happening as a result," she told him, her eyes blinking slowly as the exhaustion from todays drama caught up with her.

“i know baby,” he responded, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “get some sleep. we’ll sort this out tomorrow, i promise.”

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

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#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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asonofpeter · 10 months

Text

Night Shift

Pairing: Jaime Reyes x F!Reader

Summary: Jaime doesn't like that you work a night shift at a bar, so setting out to get a job at Kord Industries, you're shocked when he comes home with something else....

Warnings: mentions of men being pervs, lots of screaming and a little bit of violence, SPOILERS FOR BLUE BEETLE!

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: My first full fic in a while? Yes, it is indeed and with my new love, Jaime Reyes. If you haven't seen Blue Beetle, pause and go buy a ticket cause this movie is good! So proud of mi Xolito! Anyway, I'm proud of this, so enjoy! 💕💕💕

I don't consent to my work being copied, reposted, or translated.

“You don’t have to do this, y’know? I’ll get the job tomorrow and work hard to support the family and us,” Jaime stood up from your bed, grabbing hold of your hands to stop you from getting ready for work.

“Jaime, I know you want to do everything you can to stop us from losing the house, but we need the money, wherever we can get it from,” you inhaled.

You moved in with the Reyes three years ago after your parents kicked you out. The details are unimportant and messy but you were happy you ended up in a loving household after all. The only problem now, you’re on the brink of becoming homeless.

“But a job where drunk assholes violate you?” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes, knowing most customers haven’t gotten handsy since you started. “It’s not right,” he shook his head, squeezing your hands. “I don’t want you to have to go through that,” he rested his forehead against yours.

You knew he meant well. It sucked having to work at a bar where wearing low-cut tops and push-up bras made for extra tips. Especially when you worked during the night. But then again, even when businesses are going bankrupt, bars are seemingly filling in at an all-time high. You had to take advantage of the dire situation even if Jaime didn’t like it.

“I can handle my own,” you smirked. “Nana taught me a thing or two,” you winked.

“I bet she did,” he chuckled.

“And besides,” you removed your hands from his grip, smoothing them up his arms until they rested on his biceps. “I have my big strong boyfriend to protect me,” you looked at him finding the blush forming on his face adorable.

He wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you in as he leaned forward to kiss you. His lips moved against yours slowly, one of your hands moving up to tug on the hair of the nape of his neck.

Living in a small house with five other people gave you no privacy whatsoever, so moments like these were cherished. All those stolen glances, hidden kisses, late-night talks—it all meant something.

“I gotta go, okay? I’ll see you in the morning,” you pulled away.

“You’re crazy if you think I’m letting you walk to work alone at eleven at night,” he grabbed your arm lightly, pulling you back into his embrace. “I’ll be there to pick you up at seven too,” he said and you sighed out contently.

“It means a lot, but don’t you have your job interview tomorrow?” you rested your head against his chest as you both walked out of your and Milagro’s room.

“I’ll sleep, wake up, pick you up, then come back and get ready,” he shrugged and you agreed with his well-thought-out plan.

“Ya te vas, mija?” Rocio asked once you both entered the kitchen and you nodded. “Cuidate, y come tu comida, no quiero que te desmayes,” she handed you a paper sack and you smiled, thanking her.

It was things like that which made you grateful for Jaime’s family—your family. The constant protection and worry they hold over you like one would for a daughter or sister. Making sure you had a lunch packed so you can eat and not faint during your shift. It warmed your heart and made you grateful every day.

“Make sure she gets there safe, okay, Jaime?” Alberto pointed to his son and your boyfriend nodded, reassuring the two.

Walking out of the house, you found your hands intertwined as you made your way down the block. You glanced at Jaime to find him smiling at you before he looked ahead. You grinned at the fact you caught him before you too continued your focus forward.

Palerma City was alive at night, even in the small barrio you lived in. The streets were dark, flickering lamp posts illuminating the people who were still up trying to make a living by whatever means. You looked far past, the bright neon skyline of the city, all the rows of high rises where all the rich white folk were fast asleep tucked away in silk sheets.

You would get there one day.

“What did my mom pack for your lunch?” he asked, pulling you out of your thought.

“A torta de jamon, an apple and orange, some Fritos, and oh, a gansito,” you gasped in excitement before you stuffed the bag in your backpack. “I know exactly what I’m eating first,” you giggled.

“My mom literally said we ran out of gansitos,” he said in shock. “She loves you more than me,” he feigned hurt and you wrapped your arm around him, cooing as you kissed his cheek.

“What can I say? I’m lovable,” you hummed.

The two of you turned the corner and you found yourself at “Margaritaville”, the newest establishment where you got paid minimum wage and received great tips from businessmen who got off on a pretty bartender flirting with them before they made their way home to their wives. Or from people who recently got laid off from their jobs and needed someone to talk to.

Either way, you’d put on your best smile, bat your lashes and make sure your top was low enough if that meant being able to pay part of the rent.

“Be safe, okay?” Jaime pulled you in for a hug. “I’ll be awake at 6:30,” he promised.

“I will,” you mumbled into his neck before pulling away. “See you soon,” you smiled, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

He cupped your cheek before you pulled away, your fingers pulling along his, straining to stay in touch as you kept moving toward the door until they unlinked, his arm stayed hovered in the air for a split moment while yours dropped to the side. He watched as you turned back and waved until you entered through the back door, making sure to stay for a minute before he turned back around.

The lingering touch of you remained on his fingers until he arrived home and made his way to bed. It wasn’t fair you had to become a main stream of income for the house. It shouldn’t be you pulling in the long hours, it should be him.

He needed to get that interview at Kord Industries tomorrow.

You undid your apron, shoving it back into your backpack. You let out a sigh as you did a once over to the barely empty bar. The next shift already arrived and was taking care of the customers. Letting out a yawn, you placed your tips in your pocket, opening the back door only to be greeted by Jaime who was waiting at the curb.

“Buenos dias, mi amor,” he smiled and you felt your cheeks blush at the pet name he liked to change out every once in a while. “Made you breakfast,” he handed you something rolled in some paper towels before you unveiled two bean burritos. “How was work?” he kissed your cheek while he took your bag from you.

“Made $150 in tips,” you stated, biting into your food. “Getting paid tomorrow, so it went well,” you nodded. “Customers were more to themselves tonight, except for this one guy who was crying about his wife leaving him. I think he left looking for a prostitute to be honest,” you chuckled.

“Poor dude,” he hummed. “But the money is good,” he said, wrapping his arm around you.

The rest of the short walk was made in silence and it was calming to just have Jaime by your side. The eight-hour shift takes it out on you and you couldn’t wait to go to sleep.

“Hola,” you greeted as you walked through the door.

“Como te fue?” Nana asked and you responded to her before a yawn came out.

“Disculpe,” you pressed a hand to your chest. “I’m gonna go shower,” you said, the family understanding as you made your way to your room.

After a quick shower and changing into casual wear, you felt refreshed as you walked back into the family room. The whole family was gathered as Jaime stood in the middle, hair geled back and his fancy clothes put on.

“Wow, que chulo,” you complimented with a bright smile plastered on your face as you stood behind the couch.

“You see, cabezon? You look fine,” Uncle Rudy told his nephew and Jaime nodded in defeat, clearly flustered. “Y/N wouldn’t lie, she loves you too much for that!” he cackled and you joined in, making Jaime blush even more.

“Let’s go and get this over with, I still don’t trust that Jenny girl,” Milagro muttered under her breath and you sent a glance at Jaime.

You were aware of what happened when Milagro and Jaime lost their job with Victoria Kord. Millie was correct to have a distaste for the older lady, but after her niece offered an olive branch, giving Jaime an opportunity–you weren’t sure if she was in the right to have that distrust. But then again, you weren’t there.

“Descansas, okay?” Nana kissed you on the cheek and gave you the blessing before she walked out and you nodded.

The rest of the family walked out, leaving you and Jaime left.

“Good luck, okay?” you grabbed his face and gave him a chaste good luck kiss. “I know you’re gonna woo them over,” you sent him a sure smile.

“How are you so sure about that?” he held your wrists, running his thumbs over your delicate skin.

“Cause, you’re Jaime Reyes”.

“You don’t know what’s inside?” you heard Millie ask.

You were awakened by muffled conversations, your brows furrowing as you checked the time. They couldn’t have come back that soon and if something serious happened, they would’ve woken you up.

About to drift back to sleep, you eyes shot open by shouting. The voices of Jaime, Millie, and Rudy combine together. Bolting out of bed fast, you opened the door and ran into the dining room, finding Millie and Rudy to be playing hot potato with a blue bug, Jaime trying to get them to stop.

“Mira, look what you did! You woke her up,” Rocio gestured to you and the room suddenly got quiet.

“Ay, Y/N, I’m sorry,” Jaime winced, trying to grab the thing from Millie but she held it out of his reach.

“Look what Jaime brought back. That Jenny girl is a total floozy, like what is this that she gave him?” she cocked a brow, holding it clearly so you could see.

“A bug?” you rubbed your eyes. “Why would she give you a bug?” you asked, walking closer.

“She told me to guard it with my life, I wasn’t even supposed to open it,” your boyfriend explained and his words made you uneasy.

“I think you should put it back, you don’t know what it can be,” you turned to Millie.

“She’s right,” Jaime held out his hand and Milagro reluctantly agreed, placing it in his palm.

You watched as he was about to place it back in the box until it lit up, his face inching closer to inspect it. You stared back in amazement, the bug coming to life.

“I think it likes me,” he grinned, glancing up at you with a twinkle in your eyes that made your heart skip a beat. But that smile was instantly wiped away the moment the bug launched itself onto his face.

“JAIME!” you screeched, the family shooting up from their seats as they tried to aid him.

“It’s on your face!” Uncle Rudy screamed before he grabbed onto the bug, attempting to rip it off but it shot out a bolt of electricity, sending him across the room and Jaime against the wall.

Your body began to shake and you wanted to run over to help Jaime but he got up, the bug detaching from his face until it crawled over his shoulder and under his shirt like a spider you wanted off immediately.

“Jaime!” you shouted, his body thrashing around the room like he was fighting with the bug. “Baby, please,” you cried, hands over your mouth as you tried to begin to process what was going on but you couldn’t.

“Oh god,” Jaime stilled, hunched over as he looked at you. “I think it’s inside of me,” his gaze filled with panic and you felt your skin crawl. “It’s inside of me!” he screamed, hand reaching out for yours before he doubled over in pain, the bug poking out underneath his clothes before arms pierced through, sending him up against the ceiling.

Another wave of screams sounded, the love of your life’s agony cries being the worst thing you ever heard. The tears were falling down your cheeks. You wanted to help him but couldn’t. You wanted to know what was going on but didn’t. You were completely helpless in this situation.

Black goo grew over his body, his clothes burning to crisps and you were afraid of what it was going to do once it got all of him. Were you about to lose your Jaime? How did you get to this point when it was just a job interview?

“Y/N!” his call for you made your heart stop and you tried telling him you were here but his cries drowned it out.

Suddenly, he was completely transformed, a suit of armor in black and blue engulfed him. The cries and the screams quieted down as you all stared at him. A split second ago, you thought he was going to die, but now he was fine? It didn’t make sense.

“Mijo?” Rocio called out as Jaime walked over to the photo of La Virgen, his illuminating yellow eyes staring back into the reflection.

“What was that?” he looked back in shock, hands over his mouth. “Did you hear that?” his voice was panicked, his expression hidden with the eyes providing just the tiniest amount of concern.

“Jaime, what’s going on?” you took a step forward.

“That voice, you don’t hear a voice?” he walked forward, standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by all of you. The suit seemed to have turned on, blue light glowing between grooves and you all watched in awe. “Systems check?” he mumbled, looking around the room.

“Jaime?” you asked, noticing the arms powering up.

“It’s okay, everything is going to be okay!” he shouted just as he was flown through the ceiling before he became a dot in the sky.

Nothing was okay.

Reblogs are the best!

#jaime reyes x reader #jaime reyes imagine #jaime reyes #jaime reyes x you #jaime reyes fanfiction #blue beetle #blue beetle 2023 #xolo maridueña

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