#Mo Washington/reader

[minaaaliyah]

do yall still be on here.?

[gweelczz]

“Cat Got Your Tongue” Pt. 5

Rosalie Otterbourne × Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive, Rosalie being the only woman ever, reader is in LOVE, reader is the sister of Cab Calloway and the cousin of Billie Holiday, Rosalie has rizz

Summary: Being in love she didn't know whether she was falling or flying but she was airborne either way... or a story about a woman falling head over heels for another woman in the 1930s

Word count: Chile just enjoy lmao!

Minors get the fuck out!!

⸻

The hallway to Rosalie’s suite was still, the plush carpet muffling their footsteps as they walked slow, arm in arm. The distant croon of a trumpet echoed down the corridor, like a ghost that didn’t know it was dead. The walls were papered in deep rose with gold trim, and the air smelled faintly of perfume and gin.

Y/N clung to Rosalie’s hand like it was her only tether to the earth. Her sunflower’s skin was warm, her fingers soft but certain—like every step forward had been thought through before they took it. She could barely believe they’d made it this far. That she was walkin’ beside a woman who loved her out loud, even if the world still wanted them to hide.

When they reached the door, Rosalie paused, key in hand. The corners of her mouth pulled into that lopsided grin Y/N was growin’ addicted to.

“You still sure ’bout this, suga?” Her voice was low, syrupy with concern, but not doubt.

Y/N nodded, her voice caught somewhere in her throat. “Ain’t never been more sure of nothin’ in my life, sunflower.”

The lock gave way with a soft click, and Rosalie opened the door like she was leadin’ Y/N into some secret sanctuary. And maybe she was. The room felt untouched by time—lit in a golden haze, with velvet drapes and an embroidered bedspread that looked like it belonged in a dream. A record spun in the corner, Billie’s voice melting through the air like honey on hot cornbread.

Rosalie kicked off her shoes with ease, the silk of her robe whisperin’ as she turned to Y/N.

“You safe here,” she said, drawin’ Y/N close. “Ain’t nobody gon’ lay a hand on you but me.”

Y/N leaned in, fingers curlin’ at Rosalie’s jaw. Her lips brushed over hers in a kiss that pulled the breath from her lungs. It was sweet, but behind it was a hunger, a fire that had been smolderin’ since the first time they locked eyes backstage two months ago.

They moved toward the bed, slow and reverent, like each moment was a hymn. Rosalie’s hands ghosted over Y/N’s hips, up her back, across her shoulders. She eased the dress straps down gently, mouth pressing against every inch of skin she uncovered. Y/N’s hands trembled slightly, her heart pounding so loud she could barely hear the music.

And just as Rosalie’s fingers slid up the back of Y/N’s thigh—

BANG BANG BANG

A loud knock shattered the moment.

Both women froze.

Y/N’s breath caught, her body going stiff in Rosalie’s arms. She could see the shift in Rosalie’s face—that soft glow replaced with sharp tension, her jaw setting as she stepped away.

Another knock—this one even louder.

Rosalie cursed under her breath, grabbed the silk robe from the chair, and slid it on with practiced grace. She cast one more glance at Y/N, whose cheeks were flushed and lips still parted.

“I’ll handle it,” she murmured, then cracked open the door.

A young man stood there—sweatin’, breathin’ hard, hat crushed in his hands. His suit was wrinkled and his eyes wild.

“M-Miss Otterbourne,” he stammered, “I ain’t know who else to come to. It’s your aunt—Miss Salome…”

Y/N straightened up fast, heart leapin’ into her throat.

Rosalie’s brow furrowed. “What ’bout her?”

“She gone, ma’am. Vanished. Right off that stage. Ain’t nobody seen her since. One minute she was singin’, next—nothin’. She ain’t come backstage, and her dressin’ room empty.”

The room fell silent.

The record in the corner reached the end and spun on in static.

Y/N moved beside Rosalie, her voice shaky. “She was just with us… sunflower, we saw her. Ain’t even been an hour.”

Rosalie’s eyes darted to the hallway. “And you say she vanished? In front of folks?”

The young man nodded, gulpin’ like his throat was made of sand. “We thought she maybe stepped out to smoke, but she ain’t never leave her guitar. It’s still sittin’ on the stage, strings hummin’ like someone plucked ’em… but no sign of her. Miss Otterbourne, somethin’ wrong. Real wrong.”

Then—

A scream.

It echoed up the stairwell like the devil himself had walked into the lobby.

Not a scream that belonged to a song. Not one full of joy or even drunken wildness.

A scream that meant blood.

Rosalie didn’t wait. She grabbed the door handle, cast a quick look to Y/N. “Suga, stay behind me.”

Y/N nodded, but followed close. They rushed down the hallway, the young man trailing behind ’em. The walls seemed to grow narrower, the lights dimmer, as if the hotel itself sensed what was comin’.

They reached the lobby and found a crowd gathered around the bar. Rosalie pushed her way through with purpose, Y/N at her side.

There, in the middle of the polished floor, was Salome’s gold turban.

Just the turban.

It sat like it’d been placed, not dropped, and beside it… a single high-heeled shoe. One Y/N remembered admiring earlier that night.

The crowd was murmurin’, fear buzzin’ in the air like static on a wire. The bartender’s hands were shakin’, and someone sobbed quietly near the corner.

“She was just singin’…” someone said, their voice hollow. “I heard her clear as day…”

“But she never walked off stage,” another added. “One second she was there, next she was gone. Like a puff of smoke.”

Rosalie bent down, fingers trembling slightly as she picked up the turban. She pressed it to her chest, her eyes dark and stormy.

Y/N placed a hand on her back. “Sunflower… this ain’t right. You think someone took her?”

Rosalie didn’t answer right away. Her gaze traveled to the stage, where the microphone still stood tall, and Salome’s golden guitar leaned lonely against the stool.

“If someone touched my aunt,” she said finally, “I swear they ain’t gon’ live to regret it.”

A hush fell over the room.

Then from the bar, the bartender looked up, pale as chalk. “There’s a letter,” he whispered. “Somebody left it behind the counter. I-I ain’t wanna touch it, but it’s addressed to you.”

Rosalie stepped forward, taking the envelope with steady fingers. It was cream-colored, thick parchment, sealed with wax.

She cracked it open, and the scent of perfume drifted out—jasmine and clove.

Y/N leaned in as Rosalie read aloud:

“To Miss Rosalie Otterbourne,

The past always finds its voice.

You brought music to this place,

but you woke something older than song.

She walks with us now.

If you wish to see your blood again,

come to where the water sleeps.”

Rosalie’s hands curled into fists.

Y/N felt her throat tighten. “What does that mean?”

Rosalie turned to her, eyes flaring like firelight. “It means someone’s playin’ with somethin’ they don’t understand.”

Then she looked at the bartender. “Where’s the manager of this place?”

“Gone,” he whispered. “Left just after Salome got on stage.”

Rosalie stared down at the letter again, then slipped it into her robe pocket. She turned to Y/N, her voice calm, but firm.

“I need you to stay close to me now, suga. Whoever wrote this? They want me to come lookin’. And I will—but not alone.”

Y/N nodded, chest tight. “I’m with you. Ain’t no way I’m lettin’ you go into this without me.”

The young man behind them stepped forward, voice unsure. “I can help too, if you—”

“No,” Rosalie cut him off gently. “You did what you needed to do bringin’ this to me. Let me handle what comes next.”

She turned back to Y/N.

“Let’s go get dressed,” she said softly, “we ridin’ out tonight.”

Y/N reached for her hand again.

And in the hush that followed, the gold guitar on stage hummed—

One single, eerie chord.

But no one had touched it.

⸻

(Word count: approx. 2,030)

Heyyyyyy y’all! I know it’s been a minute! I am back with yall favorite lesbian couple Suga and Sunflower!! Chile somebody done took Salome smh!

[shurislover]

rewatching surrounded so i can see my baby with her guns

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (1/20)

See? I'm here and you didn't even waited that much😋

I hope you can enjoy the first chapter!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: +18, angst and semi-public sex.

Pairing: Governor!Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: Accepting the date with your friend Carol cost you more than you imagined.

Music recommendation:

Pawn

noun

1. a chess piece of the smallest size and least value. Each player has eight pawns at the start of a game.

Staring at the mirror for the sixth time, obsessively applying yet another layer of lipstick. You sighed—you still didn’t feel grown-up enough.

A little more mascara, even though your lashes were already heavy from previous coats.

But it didn’t matter.

You still weren’t pretty.

You weren’t worthy.

Checking your teeth, you spotted a smudge of lipstick on them. You exhaled sharply, grabbing your toothbrush to scrub away any imperfection.

You brushed a single tooth exactly twenty times.

Fuck.

The lipstick smudged.

You could feel hot tears prickling the corners of your eyes in frustration, as your reflection seemed only to highlight every flaw on your face.

You hated mirrors.

Three sharp knocks startled your muscles into tension.

“Bear, we’re gonna be late!” your roommate’s voice rang out—loud and impatient.

Bear. As if you were special, as if it were affection. But this was only when no one else was around.

It had been three months since you arrived in Washington. Three months of a new city, new university, new social codes you were still trying to decipher. And tonight would be your first off-campus party.

It felt like some kind of rite of passage into adulthood now.

This wasn’t Westview. Back there, the parties were small, familiar. The big city turned everything into a spectacle, and you didn’t want to be part of it—not even a little.

“Wow. You look… stunning!” Carol’s voice made you smile as you stepped out of the bathroom.

Carol Danvers.

Tall, blonde, with that air of someone who always knew what you were about to say before you said it. The girl of your dreams, your nightmares and your vices.

Having a crush on her wasn’t new—you had always liked them.

Girls.

But especially the tall, popular ones—and maybe, just maybe, the ones who were a little mean to you.

However, Carol… she’d always treated you differently. One night, she snuck into your room and kissed you.

And in that moment, you felt like the only one.

But you never were. And you knew that. Carol asked to keep things a secret, said it would be... weird.

The ambiguity of that word haunted your nights, often stealing your sleep.

“Thanks,” you said, your cheeks flushing under her gaze.

She stepped closer. Close enough to cup your cheek in her hands, a sweet, innocent gesture. One that melted you inside, like everything she always did.

“Okay!” She dropped her hand. “Here’s your ID! Don’t worry, it’s totally legit. A few dollars work miracles…” She smiled with her tongue between her teeth—mischievous, cocky.

You took the card from her hand.

“Melinda… Nox?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Amazing, right?” She beamed. “Tonight, you’re someone else. Give Melinda the chance you never gave yourself, Bear,” she whispered it with her lips close to your ear, planting a soft kiss behind it—warm enough to melt your common sense.

You tried to smile.

Pretended to believe her.

Pretended it didn’t hurt.

[...]

“Shit! Deep breath. If you keep staring at him like that, he’ll get suspicious,” your situationship said.

You were in line to enter Lux, an expensive bar in Seattle. You didn’t even know how you were going to pay for it.

Your thoughts spiraled toward the worst. They’ll find out. You’ll be expelled. Arrested. Or worse—you’ll be sent back to Westview.

To your mother.

Oh God.

The thought alone made you want to vomit.

“Carol, how are we even going to pay for this?” You looked at the people in line—it felt wrong.

You didn’t belong here.

“I’ve been working on a project,” she said cryptically, and before you could ask more, a very tall man said:

“ID!”

You handed him the fake ID, which he barely glanced at.

“Enjoy the party,” he returned the papers, leaving Carol confused.

“Excuse me, sir. You didn’t even look properly,” she said with a nervous laugh. “How can you be sure we’re not underage?”

Fuck. Carol. No!

She was being impulsive again.

“Are you?” he asked, peering over his glasses.

“No!” you both answered at once.

“Then enjoy. Next!” He turned back to the line.

Rolling your eyes, you pulled her by the arm.

“What were you thinking? Are you insane?” you hissed.

“Do you know how much those damn things cost? Too much not to be at least looked at!”

“Forget it, okay? We’re in. That’s what you wanted, right?” you softened your tone, trying to calm her.

“Yeah… yeah, whatever.” Her eyes scanned the bar, like she was looking for someone. “Don’t do that again, okay?” Carol warned, and you nodded, ashamed.

Normally, alcohol only amplified what you spent your life trying to suppress—the smothered affection, the unresolved longing, the neediness spilling through rehearsed smiles. And you knew that. Knew that two shots were enough to make you even more desperate than you already were when sober.

Carol probably thought you were unbearable. Too fragile, too dependent, waiting for a kind of love she never promised and deep down, never intended to give.

You watched her walk away again, disappearing into the crowd, into the lights and noise. And still, even with the absence scraping at your chest, you didn’t follow.

You stayed.

Alone.

A sudden bump against your shoulder jolted you back like a harsh tug to the surface. Your body reacted before your mind: your lungs faltered, the air grew thinner, and everything around you felt both distant and overwhelming.

Panic was an old acquaintance, a silent visitor who always knew where it hurt.

You squeezed your eyes shut, clenched your fists like you were trying to hold the whole world inside them. You could feel the edge drawing near with the precision of a step in the dark.

But not tonight.

Not with this name.

Melinda wasn’t you. She didn’t shake. She didn’t break. She didn’t cry at fancy parties or beg for scraps of attention. Melinda wanted to live, to have fun, and feel something other than fear.

You raised your chin, fixed your smudged lipstick, and ordered some shots of tequila. Drank the first without breathing. The second burned, and you almost smiled.

The alcohol slid down warm, spreading through your body like an unwelcome hug—comforting and fake, but effective.

You looked around, your eyes wandering over silhouettes dancing under pulsing lights.Some laughed loudly. Others whispered before smiling drunkenly.

You wondered, as you always did, if they were happy. What was the story behind each of those figures? Did they also feel small sometimes? Did they watch, too?

Or were you the only one carrying this absurd desire to be seen, this ridiculous need for approval?

Another shot.

This time, a slower sip. The world seemed to dissolve into soft tones and disjointed rhythms and then, your eyes landed on someone.

A woman.

She was surrounded by voices, yet didn’t seem to belong there. She laughed naturally, but there was something rehearsed in it —something too practiced.

The kind of smile a powerful woman wears like a weapon.

You smiled too, without realizing it.

A foolish and childish reflex, almost ridiculous.

And when you opened your eyes again, she was looking back.

Two blue eyes, so intense—but from where you sat, the color shifted. Sometimes green, sometimes blue, deep, almost violet, like precious cold stones carved into a face too sculpted to be real—and you wanted to get closer, to find out the true color of the mysterious woman’s eyes.

She wasn’t smiling anymore. Just that raw and wild look.

Aimed at you.

Your heart skipped a beat. Shame came first, hot and treacherous. But it was quickly replaced by something more primal: curiosity. Fear. Fascination. You should have looked away, you knew that.

But you didn’t.

You couldn’t.

You were being devoured by that gaze. And somehow, you wanted it.

You wondered if she saw something in you too—or if she was just playing, like everyone else.

You laughed to yourself.

It was a stupid thought—a woman like that would never look at you... Not really.

Not the way you wished she would.

You downed your last shot in one go, the taste burning your throat, your stomach, what was left of your judgment.

The world spun a little—but honestly, you didn’t care anymore. It was past 3 a.m., and the heat of the dance floor felt like it was choking you. Sweat glued the dress to your body like the fabric was punishing you for every misstep.

You needed air.

You got up with effort, ankles a bit unsteady, and pushed through the crowd. Shoulders bumped into yours like no one had time to acknowledge your existence. That was fine. You were used to going unnoticed.

The first door in sight was the emergency exit. Narrow. Empty. The cold concrete outside contrasted with the heat from inside, and you felt the thermal shock ripple across your skin, up your spine.

Seattle's lights blinked on the horizon like promises never meant for you.

The cold air froze the tip of your nose and bit at the bare skin of your arms, but still… it was better than the suffocation inside.

You leaned your back against the wall and sit on a concrete stool, lettting your head fall back, eyes fixed on a starless sky.

For a moment, you thought of your childhood summers back in Westview. Those days when the world was small and kind, when the sound of the ice cream truck’s bell was enough to make you run barefoot, lighthearted, laughing freely.

God, how you missed that.

When you were just a girl and that was enough. When your father’s love was all you needed to fill the empty spaces—Before he died.

Before the world crumbled at five years old.

Since then, ice cream never tasted the same again.

Your mother never looked at you the same. Or maybe she never looked at you at all.

You were always the mistake.

The disappointment.

She said it with her eyes—and sometimes with harsh words—you weren’t enough. That everything you did could have been better, prettier, more useful.

But she smiled at your brother with that pride that never belonged to you.

So when the letter from UW came, it was your chance. The chance to prove to her that you could, to find your own path.

The chance to run.

A city where no one knew your flaws. Where you could be someone— anyone. But even here, you brought the same fucking broken pieces.

The same hunger that now made you accept Carol Danvers’ scraps like they were feasts. She kissed you in secret, called you “mine” in a whisper, but never in public.

And still, you waited—like a fool.

Because deep down, being with her hurt less than admitting that maybe no one would ever truly choose you.

You bit your lip, tasting the metallic sting of frustration. The alcohol made everything feel more distant, more confusing.

The truth was you didn’t know who you were or who you wanted to be.

You just knew that… maybe you needed a little love.

Was that too much to ask?

The door behind you creaked open.

You turned slowly—thinking it was some janitor asking you to leave.

But no.

It was her.

The woman with the mysterious eyes.

The feminine silhouette in front of you was imposing, exuding importance. Her long dark hair fell like a rope, framing a strong face—and yet, the redness in her cheeks—from the alcohol or the cold gave a softness to such a harsh figure.

Your eyes locked for a while, too long, but neither of you dared to look away.

You swallowed hard. Should you say something? Your lips trembled, parted to speak, but her voice came first—strong, rough:

“Are you alright?”

The question cut through the silence like a blade.

Her voice was firm, almost impersonal, but there was something there...

You nodded, a gesture too small to mean anything.

Of course you weren’t alright. But what could you say? That you were trying not to cry over a woman who didn’t know how to love? That the bitter taste of tequila still burned in your throat, but what really stung was the absence—of everything?

You looked away, pressing your shoulders against the cold wall behind you.

“Just needed some air,” you finally said, almost in a whisper, like the words were being swept away by the freezing wind between you.

She stepped closer with careful strides, sitting down beside you. Not too close, but close enough for you to feel the warmth of her body. And her perfume, too—something woody, discreet, sophisticated.

You knew she was special. Rich, very rich—from the leather heels to the minimalist jewelry.

“I figured…” she said, drawing a breath with some care. Her head tilted slightly, like she was trying to steady her thoughts more than her steps. Her hands buried in the pockets of her cream colored coat—expensive, heavy, pristine like her. “It’s crazy in there.”

Her voice, though touched by alcohol, still carried strength. But you noticed the subtle crack in her posture, like a piece of porcelain that only fractures under the right light.

But the question circled her mind and refused to fade away. What was she doing here? Had she followed you? Had she come here just because of you?

"Why are you here?" The question slipped out before you could stop it.

Shit.

You didn’t want to sound rude to her—not at all.

She didn’t answer right away.

She just turned her face toward you—and there was something in her eyes that froze you in place. A contained glint, sharp, like wet steel under the moonlight. And now, up close, under the moonlight, you could tell. Her eyes held perfect shades between green and blue.

It was like saltwater meeting freshwater in a single gaze.

The woman was truly stunning.

Her jaw clenched, as if she were fighting her own words. Or the impulse to say them.

Your stomach turned. Chills ran down your spine, and it wasn’t just the cold.

It was her.

How could someone look so dangerous and so hypnotic at the same time?

"I don’t know," she finally said. The sincerity in her voice was a near wounded whisper, and it caught you off guard. "I saw you leave. And... I came."

Silence returned, but now it was a different kind of silence.

Alive.

Dense.

You looked down for a moment, feeling your heart beat too loud in your chest. It was scary. Not her—not exactly. But what she awakened. 

The way she looked at you. Like she saw something even you couldn’t name. And still, she didn’t look away.

"I don’t usually do this," she continued, and there was something restrained in her voice. Almost self-directed anger.

And you understood. Fuck. How you did understand!

That feeling of doing something against your own instincts just because, for some inexplicable reason, you have to.

That stupid war between protecting yourself and letting go.

"Me neither," you confess with a laugh, still feeling her now-blue eyes cut through you. Your voice came out small, almost like a shared secret.

You felt naked under those eyes. Like every layer of you was being unfolded with unsettling precision.

She didn’t smile.

She only looked deeper, and for a moment, you had the impression she was going to say something. Reveal something.

But she stopped.

The blue-eyed woman seemed to be battling her own body. Her own impulsivity, as if every inch of the space between you had been measured, restrained, smothered by something she refused to name.

You could feel her breath. The woody scent of her perfume. You wanted to get closer.

She turned her head sharply, like it would stop her from doing something reckless. You noticed her jaw tightening, her hard swallow, and her hands—now out of her coat—clenching into fists.

She rose from the concrete bench, stumbling elegantly in her heels to face the city.

"You’re... different," she said, as if spitting out the word with difficulty.

And she didn’t sound like she meant it in the usual way people try to impress someone at a party. There was real weight behind it. As if that “difference” was dangerous—or worse: unacceptable.

Your eyebrows furrow.

"What do you mean?" you ask, standing up with some effort.

She hesitated. A small pout formed on her lips, as if annoyed that you had asked. Or that she didn’t know how to answer.

Her eyes drifted to your mouth. A subtle, restrained motion, but not fast enough to hide it.

You held your breath.

"I don’t know," she said, but it felt more like a confession. Her hard gaze stayed fixed on you, but there was something different now. Something raw. More... human. "But I despise it."

The words came out like poison caught in her throat—not necessarily to hurt you. But as if the mere idea of someone unraveling what she thought was solid was intolerable.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating so fast it hurt. You stood there, between impulse and fear, trying to figure out someone who seemed made of thorns and glass.

Too beautiful to touch without getting cut.

But maybe, getting cut would be worth it.

"Why?" you dared ask, your voice low. You were afraid of the answer, but more afraid of the silence.

She turned slightly, her eyes meeting yours with something close to fury—but it wasn’t at you.

It was at herself.

A clash of wills sewn by years of restraint. Everything about her was control, you realized that now. Every gesture, every word, every space between blinks was meticulously guarded.

Except here. Except now.

"Because I hate losing control."

The phrase hit you with the force of an intimate confession, almost an apology, and at the same time, a warning.

The wind blew stronger at that moment, tossing her hair across her face. She didn’t brush it away. She stayed like that, partly hidden, as if she didn’t want you to see what her eyes were saying.

But you saw anyway.

"Maybe..." you began, not knowing exactly where you were going. "Maybe that’s not such a bad thing."

She laughed. Softly. Without humor. A bitter, restrained laugh, like you’d told a joke too cruel to be funny.

"You have no idea what you’re saying."

You stood up to face her. 

Now there was no space between you. Only tension. A magnetic, cursed field. Hot and cold at once.

Your eyes searched hers, and in them, you found a wound no one should’ve ever touched.

But you wanted to.

You wanted to enter that pain and know it like someone opening a forbidden book.

"Then tell me," you whispered. "Make me understand," you pleaded.

She was so still, she looked carved out of air.

"I can’t do that." Her voice broke, and it was the first time that had happened. She stood up. Stopped at the door to leave, to run. Run from you. "You should go back too. You’ll freeze out here in that outfit," she said without looking at you, still facing the door and holding the handle.

And she seemed to be waiting.

You studied the silhouette of the much older woman leaning against the door. She was undeniably elegant, and the heels made her seem even taller next to you.

Those eyes seemed so dominant, always in control.

And maybe you were the one who had to take the risk here, after all, she looked like someone who had much to lose...

You stepped closer.

Each step measured, deliberate, until you could hear her breath change. A subtle, trembling exhale, as if your nearness had broken something in her.

Carefully, your fingers touched her dark hair, sliding through the strands like someone caressing a secret.

She let out a soft sound through her mouth—a stifled noise, somewhere between a moan and a protest.

And you smiled.

She was trying to resist, but failing.

"Please..." you begged, your mouth so close to her skin your warm breath touched her.

She turned sharply. Her back against the iron door. Breathing fast and looking like she might kill you if she could.

But you were too far gone now to care about dying.

"What the fuck do you want from me?" she growled, her jaw tight, her breath short like she could barely stay on her feet.

You didn’t answer.

You just let your lips touch her neck. Slow kisses, warm, like promises you didn’t even know if you could keep.

"Please, please, please," you begged between the kisses, the words staining her skin like fever.

You lifted your face until it was level with hers. Your lips brushed against hers in an almost-kiss.

Burning, cruel.

“Please,” you whispered, your voice so low it barely made a sound.

But she heard it.

The woman finally leaned in, ready to be kissed—but you pulled back.

Just enough for her to feel the absence.

Her blue eyes burned with something primal.

“Fuck,” she breathed.

And then she kissed you.

Like she was breaking a promise. Like she was diving off a cliff, not expecting to survive.

And it wasn’t gentle.

It was ravenous.

It was need, despair, fury.

The kind of kiss that shouldn’t happen, but it did.

And you knew—right there, with her back slammed against the cold metal door, lips crushing yours with a hunger that felt decades old—that nothing would ever make sense again.

Her mouth was hot, urgent, and her tongue claimed yours with such authority it made you moan into your own teeth.

She took control without asking, without waiting. Like she was quenching a thirst that had gone too long ignored.

Her hands—big, firm, experienced—grabbed your waist with such force that you lost your breath.

And you let her hold you.

Let her brand you.

It was insane to be there.

In an emergency hallway, in an uncomfortable position and the wind bit at your exposed skin.

But honestly? None of it mattered. Because the heat came from her—that tall, mature body carved by time.

She could’ve been your mother’s age.

And fuck, why did that make it even hotter?

The way she held you, like she already knew every path to pleasure before you even knew their names. The way she kissed, without hesitation, without the impatient rush of someone just chasing release.

Nothing like Carol.

Your hands moved up her back, feeling the expensive fabric of her coat, then pushed it gently off her shoulders to reveal the heat her skin carried.

Your fingers moved on their own, hooking into the waistband of her linen pants.

She moaned against your mouth, a muffled sound, and a shiver ran through both of you. She broke the kiss violently, her breath ragged, like she’d just run a marathon. 

“No,” she whispered, resting her forehead against yours. “I can’t...”

You whimpered at the sudden distance and pressed into her, needing to make sure she was real.

“Why not?” you whispered back.

“Because...” She inhaled, trying to think, to erase your scent and your kiss from her mind. “Because this is wrong.”

“This?” You smiled, dragging your tongue across your lips. “Well... You don’t have to do anything.” Your voice was soothing. “I can do it for you.”

You brought your lips back to her neck.

Yes. You’d do it. You’d do anything.

She melted under your touch, letting out a desperate moan as your hands traveled lower down her body.

“W-what are you going to do?”

“Shh... Just feel.”

You stole her lips again, this time taking the control that seemed meant only for her. You explored every curve, alternating between squeezing her waist and her ass.  

“Can I do this?” you asked, resting your hand over her panties, waiting for a reply.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out. And she just nodded.

You smiled.

Unbelievable.

You slid to her clit, and she gasped. She looked so beautiful, so ready...

You moved your fingers in figure eights, making her moan and grab the back of your neck.

Then, without warning, you slipped two fingers inside her, dragging a cry of pleasure from her lips.

“Fuck, it’s been so long,” she moaned, delirious.

You kept thrusting, fingertips massaging the soft flesh inside. She throbbed and clenched so tightly around you...

“More!”

You brought your thumb to her clit, stimulating both spots at once. You felt her legs tremble. “I can give you this,” you whispered into her ear, biting her sensitive earlobe. “I’m a good girl.”

And when you heard her moan loudly, you knew she was the kind that liked dirty talk.

You looked at her again.

Fuck! How is she this beautiful?

Cheeks flushed, spit escaping her lips, hair tangled in your fingers, one leg wrapped around your waist—the tip of her high heel digging into your back—while the other leg stayed grounded, giving her that precious balance she seemed to crave.

This time, she was the one who stole your lips—and the moan that escaped you was shameful. Her tongue moved wildly, like it was saying something.

She was going to come.

“God— I—” she cried, bouncing on your fingers.

With one final thrust, she came.

Watching those once-cruel, dominant eyes roll back in bliss was something you would tattoo into your memory, forever.

And when she opened them again, you saw two oceans—still shimmering with pleasure.

Your chest burned with pride, you could die happy.

But all that feeling was devoured by three words:

“This never happened.”

The words hung in the air like the toxic smoke flooding the city, seeping into you.

You needed a second to process. Then two. And on the third, your stomach turned.

Your blood boiled.

“What?” Your voice came out as a choked disbelief.

Agatha didn’t answer right away.

She just straightened her coat, then her hair, staring past you at the buildings like you were a mistake she needed to delete.

Like you weren’t worth her time.

“You heard me.” she said coldly, sharply.

Her blue eyes locked on yours—and this time, there was nothing in them.

No desire.

No warmth.

Just a shadow of disdain.

You stepped forward. “Are you serious?” Your voice cracked midway, but you stood your ground.

She sighed, like she needed patience to deal with you and that only made you angrier.

“It was a mistake,” she said, dry. “One I don’t intend to repeat.”

Your chest cracked.

You laughed, bitterly.

“Of course. Because God forbid someone like you be seen with someone like me, right?”

“It’s not about that, girl.”

Girl.

Said like that.

Like you were too small to understand.

“No?” You stepped closer, so near you could see her spit on her own chin. “Then what is it? Your last name? Your reputation? Whoever you think you are!?”

She glared at you, like she wanted to reduce you to dust.

“It’s about you being nothing.”

Silence.

A bottomless void.

It hit like a punch to the chest. A blow full of condescension and venom.

You stepped back, tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah. I’m nothing,” you nodded, smiling with eyes full of rage. “The nothing that made you moan like a desperate whore in a dark corner.”

Her jaw clenched. She took a deep breath, but said nothing.

“Don’t look at me like you’re better than me,” you went on, your voice shaking with fury and adrenaline. “You’re just a lonely woman fucking the void inside you with someone else’s fingers. And fuck, you love it. Every second. So spare me the performance.”

“If I were you, I’d watch that tone.” she replied, tense—but not with the same fire.

You laughed again, bitter, haunted by the echo of that damned phrase.

“It’s about you being nothing.”

Like a low blow.

Like a rejection letter.

Like Carol.

Your chest tightened in that familiar, because you already knew that taste: the taste of abandonment that comes right after the touch.

The touch that makes you feel wanted.

The touch that lies.

You pulled away like you'd been burned, as if every second there had started to scald you. Swallowed hard, ignoring the lump in your throat, the salty taste that threatened to spill from your eyes.

“Go fuck yourself,” you said, but your voice came out too soft to hurt.

You brushed past her, your body still hot, still trembling, but already feeling the cold swallowing you whole again.

You stormed out the emergency exit like fleeing from a fire—even if now, the fire was inside you.

The dawn air hit you like a slap—cold, harsh, indifferent.

You descended the emergency exit steps with heavy steps, feeling the concrete vibrate beneath the thin soles of your shoes, but it was like every step was a surrender.

As soon as you returned to the dance floor, you saw your “friend with benefits” grinding on some guy while his hands roamed her sculpted body.

Fuck this.

Fuck her.

Fuck all of them.

A retreat on the board.

A pawn.

The smallest piece. The most predictable. The one that only moves forward and dies first.

You laughed again, alone, with that irony that rises from your gut. The bitter laugh of someone who realizes they were just a convenient move in someone else’s game.

Just a pawn advanced out of pure whim.

You stumbled outside, like a mistake hidden behind the scenes of a party that was far too expensive.

The wind whipped against your sweat-damp skin and unshed tears. And you swallowed hard again, throat tight, the acidic taste of humiliation rising like bile.

You thought of her.

A stranger—eyes sometimes blue, sometimes green, but always vivid.

Of her touch.

Of the rough fingers gripping your waist. The way she moaned greedily for more, even if only once.

The way she came with her face turned toward the sky, as if you were some kind of gift.

And even then… “You’re nothing.”

Fuck.

Why do those words hurt more than they should? Why does part of you want to go back, just to scream? Just to force her to admit that you gave her the best orgasm of her life?

But you didn’t go back.

You just clenched your fists, walking the dark streets like someone running from their own shadow. Like someone who finally understands that some people were made to move the pieces… and others were made to be moved.

And you swear to yourself—somewhere between the step and the regret—that next time, God, if there’s a next time, you’ll play the game before it plays you.

Because being a pawn is exhausting.

And you weren’t born to die in the first move.

~*~

UHhhh... Agatha's such a bitch... I'm sorry!! Y-Y

Tag List <3

@vyvvycg @rosekjsses @3liyuh @indentity0018 @beggingonmykneesforher @reginassecretlover @trying-to-do-good @imjustvibingsworld @mbxoxo @jazzyxqzl @eternallyconfuzed @ctrlaltedits @sheriffhaughtearp @lesbiansweet @i-luv-w1men @htinha157 @syssmin @wandasslut3000 @fuzzygiantlamphorse @imaginaryblogger01 @aboutcustardcreams @upsidedowndanvers @starbucks-06 @absolute-memegarbage @trinity2k @greyella @angel-kitten-babygirl-u-choose @whitelotus00 @dandelions4us @creaturesaphique @warpdrive-witch @sweetmidnights @dingdongthetail @mommy-mommy-mommy-hi @milfovers4

[alicesivory]

The Moon Song

Inspired by the movie ‘her’ 2013 - directed by Spike Jonze 

Pairing: Billy Washington x female! Reader

Warning: smut, angst, and teeth rotting fluff (mdni), and not proof-read lol. 

WC: 7005 

Disclaimer: I am not comfortable using [y/n] but I won’t be using any OC since it’s still an x reader fic. But I’ll slip a nickname or two in some stories ;) Oh and I took some words and sentences from my favourite scene from the movie and the iconic monologue at the end but I revised it so it would fit into the story but all credits goes to Spike Jonze. Enjoy!

“War? You don’t got a clue- what do you know about war?! War against halal butchers? You don’t know anythin-.”

Billy nodded as tears started to build up in his eyes. Of course he knew nothing. It's as if anyone gave him a chance to know something. It’s meaningless at some point, he meant his life and all this bullshit about all of this charade. Just when he felt like a somebody, of course his sister had to crumble it all down.

Or just trying to make him snap out of it from this dreamlike state he’s in as his inner self tries to justify his actions. 

He didn’t mean to be like this in the first place or mingle with those thugs. 

He never did. 

“-grow up, Billy!”

He nodded once more as a tear dropped from his eye. 

“You done?”

“Yes, I am.”

Billy kept an eye on his sister as she stomped away from his room, and finally from his apartment. 

Slamming the door. 

Humiliation weighed over his shoulders as he hung his head low, running his fingers through his sandy blonde hair with frustration. It wasn’t supposed to end up this way. Not the way he wanted it to. Taking a deep sigh, he lets go of all of his tears letting them roll down from his cheeks. Sniffling and crying alone in his dark room. But just as wanted to just curl up in bed and cry ‘till exhaustion, he heard a knock from his apartment door. 

Wiping away his tears and snot, he stood up bravely and walked towards the door. It’s probably his sister, wanting to yell or lecture him about…literally anything, really. Nothing’s good enough for her or their parents. He sighs and opens the door with no hesitation without checking who it was. 

“Coming back for mo-.”

Oh, it wasn’t his sister. 

Her name rolled off his tongue easily like he was dying to say her name for months. She looked at him curiously as she stood there with an awkward thin smile. “I bumped into Lana and…she looks pretty pissed. Did I come at the wrong time?” she asked, pointing towards the apartment hallway. He quickly shook his head.

“N-no! Not at all. We just had an argument- you know how it is.” 

It has been…8 months and 2 weeks since he broke up with her (yes he has been counting) and 2 months since he last saw her. Their breakup was hard for him and sometimes Billy believed that their breakup was the one that caused his downward spiral. He had known her since they were in university, she was his friend before he slowly developed feelings for her. His train of thoughts were snapped away by her gasp. “What happened to your hand?”

He quickly hides it away behind his back.

“N-nothing! By the way, What’re you doing here?” He asked, not wanting to tell her the truth. What will she think of him? He can’t just dump his troubles into her. 

“I know this is silly, but I forgot to take some of my stuff,” she sighed in defeat, clearly letting him brush away the topic of his hand. Billy knew what she left and he didn’t even bother to tell her since he..well..just wanted her to maybe stop by or just kind of let it stay in his apartment to remember something of her. A piece of her, some sort.

“Yeah? What did you left?” He asked, acting dumb. 

“Some books and my brown watch. Have you seen them?”

“No, not at all. Come in.”

Three years ago. 

Laughter filled the apartment floor as his pale cream couch was being moved from the first floor to the third floor. He was at the bottom end while his sweetheart was trying to pull the couch up. “It’s getting heavy, love!” He teased as he tried so hard not to laugh seeing them fail over and over again to move their couch up to their apartment. 

What’s now his apartment, used to be their apartment. 

“Hold on! Oh dear Lord-,” she cackled as she took a step back up the stairs, lifting up the other edge of the couch. 

“Alright, now push!” She ordered as they finally succeeded to drag and carry the couch unison. It took them a while to finally make the couch fit through the doorway, but they managed. Back then, their apartment was still empty. No mess or dirty clothes scattering around the floor. It still smelled like paint. “Phew!” She said before crashing onto the couch. Billy follows along, putting his arm around her, letting her lean onto him. 

“Tired, sweetheart?” He teased.

“Terribly.” 

“Gosh I think the last time you were this tired was two nights ago when I fuc-,”

“Ew, no ew stop-,” she says with a giggle trying to get away from him but he won’t budge.

“And you told me to keep going! ‘Ah harder Billy! Harde-,”

“You are so disgusting!” She exclaimed as she covered his mouth with her palm, but he kept teasing her with his stupid dirty jokes. “Really? The last time you told me that was when I gave you backs-,”

“You are so infuriating!”

The only thing to make him shut up was tickles and her plan worked. When her fingers started to wiggle on his stomach, he burst out laughing like a mad man. “Stop! Stop!” He begged her. After one last tickle, she pulled away with a satisfied grin. “You’ll be the death of me, woman.” Billy placed his arm back around her shoulders and gave her a sweet peck on her lips. “I shall be,” she replied cockily, booping his nose. He smiled at her as he admired her features that he loved more than anything. 

He didn’t know he was able to love someone this much. 

“Can’t believe we have this place to ourselves,” he said softly to her, brushing a hair away from her face. She smiled back, “Can’t believe I’m doing this with you.” They both shared a sweet kiss where no one could disturb them or interrupt them. Ever.

“I uh…I applied for the military,” he informed her as they pulled away from their kiss. “Yeah? That’s amazing..,” she said supportively, brushing his hair with her gentle fingers. “Yeah..I wanted to try, y’know? Seeing Lana on field…I  want to be like her y’know? Brave…tough…,” he listed. 

“But you are.”

Her words made him scoff. 

“You’re only saying that ‘cause I’m your boyfriend. It’s biassed.”

“It’s still an opinion,” she said gently, still brushing his hair. Seeking her comfort, he leaned his head on her shoulder. “You think I can do this?” He asked with a hint of insecurity in his voice. “Of course you can,” she reassured him, giving him a gentle kiss on his head. 

Present day

They ramage through his apartment trying to collect all of her stuff. Piece by piece they collect the stuff she left in his apartment. “Alright we have the books…wuthering heights, pride and prejudice, little women, yada yada yada, and all I need is my brown watch. And it’s nowhere to be found- you sure you haven’t seen it anywhere?” She walked towards his gaming chair and sat on the pillowed chair while he sat on the cream coloured couch. 

Normally, he won’t let anyone sit there. Even Becky, or Lana. She was the only one he trusted to touch his possessions. He smiles as he listens to her babbling and talking. He hates to admit it, but he missed it. 

“Nope, not at all,” he lied. 

Sighing in defeat, she starts rocking the chair as she looks around the room they’re in. “How you’ve been, by the way?” Billy shrugs at her question, acting all casual even if his life was basically crumbling down. No job, shitty friends, commit a minor crime, his sister, parents, even current girlfriend hates him. “Just fine, really.” 

His answer made her smirk. “Well your hand says otherwise,” she says. Her witty answer made him chuckle. “What can I say? I’m a busy man.” He always liked how easy it is to talk to her. “What about you? You doin’ alright?” He asks, his tone gentle and eager to know if she’s been alright. 

“Well, yeah I’m alright. Ups and downs here and there, y’know?”

“Compared to me, you look like you’re doing amazing,” he compliments her, leaning in to take a good look at her even if they’re a little bit away from each other.

His compliment made her chuckle. 

It always does. 

“Thanks..,” she replies, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“I’m serious though..you look amazing.” His tone genuine and full of meaning into it. 

She looked at him for a moment, trying to read him before nodding. 

“Well you look like you need a haircut and a shave.”

Her comment made him laugh. Genuinely laugh. It’s been awhile since he felt that much comfort in him. 

After a while, their laughter died down and a comfortable silence swept the room. “You seeing anyone?” she asked. He nodded, “Yeah, but it’s a bunch of crap. Her name’s Rebecca and I haven’t heard from her since last week.” She gave him a thin smile, both of them knowing that they don’t want to discuss that topic further. “And you?” 

“Been on a date or two but none of them worked out,” she shrugs. He nodded again, a little bit glad to hear that. “You happy with your new book?”

“You’ve read it?” She asks with a chuckle. “Well, I saw it in a book store last week and it looks pretty cool, I might have to buy a copy after this,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck nervously. “I mean sure I like how it is,” she says. But he saw how she pursues her lips with a pregnant pause coming from her. “But I feel like it’s true to what I set out to do. So I’m happy with that.”

“I swear, You’re your own worst critic, I’m sure it’s amazing. Even that paper you wrote on synaptic behavioral routines made me cry.” 

“Yeah, but everything makes you cry.”

“Everything you make makes me cry.”

A sense of familiarity washes between them. How easy it was to just talk like normal people would. Alice looked into his eyes for a moment before darting away and spots his injured knuckles once more. 

“No but seriously though, what happened?” She asks, pointing at his hand hesitantly. He looked down and felt heat coming up to his cheeks.

“I uh…it was an accident.” “What accident?”

“An accident that involved me and some glass shards.”

“How the hell did that happen?”

Why is she asking me all this shit?

“You don’t want to know.”

“I would love to know, actually.”

He looked at her for a while to sense any sort of hesitation in her words but the only thing he could find in her eyes was determination. It intimidates him. She could scoop anything from the bottom pits of his heart. 

“For fuck’s sake, Ismashedawindowatabutchersh-“

“What?!” 

“It was a fucking protest-“

“—What protest, Billy?! All I see is that you’re now doing property damage-,”

“—Am not!—”

“—Then what was that for? Why on earth would you smash a butcher shop’s window?!” 

Billy was silent.

Why did he do it?

“I..”

Did he actually believe all that bullshit? Or was he just tagging along with his buddies? To be…accepted?

“Everything I do is never enough for you, is it?”

His words created this thick tension in the room. Her brows crinkled as she took his word as an offense. “Why would you say that?” She asks, her voice cracking. “Because it’s the truth-.”

“No it isn’t,” she said, stern and true. “I always felt like you wished I could just be a happy, light. ‘everything’s great’, bouncy girlfriend who always puts a smile whenever you come home either happy or angry and I’m sorry but I can’t do that, I still have feelings too-.”

Billy winces at her words and shakes his head, “No I didn’t want that.”

“You avoid me and shut me out whenever I point out something wrong about you, or us- even when we argue you never wanted to listen!—“

“—No I don’t!—”

“—It’s like as if you can’t handle real emotions, Billy—,”

“—They are real emotions, how do you—,”

“—What? Say it! Am I really that scary, Billy? Say it- How do I know what?!” 

Silence hung in the air once more. They were both seeing red and they…she...he…realized how this argument was going nowhere. Billy saw how her gaze shifted, how her brow relaxed and her eyes slowly softening. Her once angry demeanour changed into what is now left with regret and embarrassment. Rubbing her arm, avoiding his gaze. God, did he really messed up this bad?

“I was gonna marry you, y’know?” 

He didn’t even realize that he said those words out loud, avoiding her gaze as his head hangs low once more. Not realizing how her eyes softened, looking at the man that she once loved and believed was the love of her life. Maybe he is still the one she loves- but he sees that as wishful thinking. 

“I’m sorry that came out of nowhere-,”

“—Billy, It’s okay-,”

“—But I mean it though, I…really want to marry you. Back then, after I’m finally in the military or something- but turns out none of that shit worked out, so…,” he says running his hands through his hair once again. His sentence hung in the air as he shut his mouth from talking any further. 

Billy’s birthday, last year. 

“You’re so infuriating..,” she giggled lowly as she laid on his bed, in his arms, tangled in bedsheets as the moon shone bright from the window. “Me? Infuriating? Is that a proper way to say to your birthday boy tonight?” Billy teasingly replied, leaning his head to hers letting his forehead rest on hers. 

She giggles again shifting her whole body close to him as she clutches the blankets close to her chest to keep her warm. “Jeez sorry, it’s not my fault that you keep giving bad activity ideas for your birthday. Like, seriously? Skydiving? You know I hate heights, you arse!” She slaps his chest, earning a cackle from him. “It was just a suggestion, love that’s all…,” Billy grunts as he cuddles her tightly. 

“Ugh you’re squishing me..,” she complained.

“Stop whining..,” he replied, giving her a sweet kiss on the neck. “It’s still my birthday tonight, I can hug you as tight as I can..,” he murmured sleepily. Alice chuckles and slightly shifts, facing up to him. “No but seriously though, what do you want to do tomorrow?” she seriously asked. 

“I don’t know, really…probably taking you out and the lads up for a few pints. Just the usual, love,” he said, rubbing her arm. “Just wanna spend some time with the people I love.” Giving her a sweet peck on the lips.

“Yeah? You gon’ give your mum and da a visit then?”

Billy groaned as he nuzzled his face on the crook of her neck. “Knew you’d say that.”

“Oh c’mon, love…it’s been a half a year since you saw them. One visit won’t hurt…,” she said gently, running her fingers through his hair. “Yeah one visit will end up my da making fun of me and seeing my mum’s disappointment up close,” Billy sarcastically chuckled. “I won’t let them,” she whispered closely to his ear. 

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

Her response earned her a smile out of him. “What’d I do without you, sweetheart?” He asked sultry before he started to kiss her jaw…down to her neck as his big hands snaked her waist, holding her gently. “I think you’d do just fine,” she answered with a sensual sigh. Billy smiled, nuzzling her cheek with his nose before capturing her lips with his. 

Wrapping her arms around his neck, she kissed him back with a low hum, their bodies moving in perfect harmony as they explored each other's mouths. Billy took his time as he slipped his boxers down and placed them somewhere in the bed. “Mm…y’know I love you right?” He asked in between kisses as he pinned her down to bed, hovering over her. “I know,” she said. His kisses trailed down from her lips, her jaw, her neck, down to her chest. Gently squeezing and caressing one of her breast while his mouth nipped and sucked the other carefully. He’d then squeeze one to make her nipples perk so he could kiss it and suck it better, leaving wet trails down to her tummy and finally finding his treasure.

Gently spreading her legs, he could see that her white cotton panties had already left a dark wet patch on it. A smile tugging at his lips and he gently nuzzled his nose on her clothed sex. “Already all wet for me, babe?” He asked, placing a sweet kiss onto it before pulling down her panties in one swift motion as if he’d done this a thousand times already.

“C’mon…where’s my sweet darling..ah there she is…,” he muttered to himself. Without a warning he kitten licked her whole sex making her gasp in pleasure. Smirking smugly up at her, he continued to tease and lick her pussy before managing to eat her out properly. Hungrily munching on her like a starved man. He rubbed her clit gently in a circle motion as he stretched her hole with his tongue, fucking her with it. 

This motion made her squirm and gasp, her brows crinkling feeling the intense pleasure that she couldn’t get enough of even if he’d done this to her more than she could count. “M gonna put a finger in, yeah?” His voice said in a reassuring and gentle tone. She nodded with no hesitation and just as she knew it, she felt his finger slipping into her. One finger then became two fingers, slipping in and out of her dripping hole as he licked her clit making her cry in pleasure. 

He took his time to help her find pleasure. He could die between her legs and he’d be happy. He groaned in delight as he licked all of her juices when his fingers pulled out of her weeping hole. He couldn’t get enough of her as he licked off her juices before he had to pull away and looked up to her. 

“W-wha- why did you stopped?” she asked. He hovers over her once more, “Need you inside of me.” Needily nuzzling his nose to her neck, sucking onto her. He then felt his body shift as now he has is back on the bed as she sits on top of him like a queen on her throne. Straddling him, he could see all of her. Caressing her sides, he saw how she looks down and groped the base of his shaft, giving it a few strokes. 

“You okay with this?” She asked.

“Mmhm…y-yeah- fuck yeah,” he couldn’t even speak properly, blinded with pleasure.

Then he felt her lining up their sexes, his cock leaking with pre-cum as she teasingly rubs the outside lining of her pussy with it. “Don’t tease-fuck!” Before he could even finish his sentence, she slips his cock in making both of them gasp in unison. “F-fuck, Billy…,” she moaned, adjusting to him. She loved how he felt inside her. Not too overwhelmingly big or small, to her it’s the right size and girth. 

“You’re made for me,” he grunted as he needily thrust up begging for any movement or friction. Billy saw how she looked at him, eyes full of lust and love as she started to move up and down and rocking him as they adjust to their pleasure.

“Billy?” she called out to him as she thrust into him, her body full of sweat. “Y-yeah?” Holding her hips with his big calloused hands. “Wake up.”

“W-what?”

“I said wake up.”

Present day, Billy’s birthday. 

The sun started to rise, but only tiny streaks of sun rays managed to peek through the blinds. Billy opened his eyes, finding his room empty, finding his bed empty. 

Fuck, he just had another wet dream of her.

He looked down, finding a dark wet spot on his pants. Of course he did. His phone kept buzzing beside his bed, probably some ‘happy birthday’ notifications from his mum, dad, and sister. Becky didn’t even bother to send him a ‘i’m leaving you’ text. Ghosted and gave up on him. 

Like the others do. 

He sighs, getting up from bed and throws a shirt on himself and changes his shorts before finally picking up his phone. Then he saw it. A notification with her name on it. It’s been months since he last saw a notification from her. What is she going to say? Should he open it now? Maybe later- oh fuck it!

Hi Billy how you’ve been? I just want to say happy birthday here and hope you have a great birthday this year🎂 Sorry for the other day, I really didn’t mean a lot of those things, just wanted to see how you’ve been.

I know it’s been 10 months since we broke up and I know you probably don’t want me in your life again but I really just want to say that I wish you nothing but the best things in life. We’ve gone through a long way, we grew up together and all that shit and I just can’t act as if you don’t exist in my life. You always do in some way and I hope that’s okay. 

Have a great birthday Bil.

That text was the last straw for him. He looked around his no-good apartment, in the back of his mind he remembered everything he’d shared with her in every corner of this apartment. It drives him insane how he can’t have that now. But God he’d take it all back and do better for her. Reading her text, knowing how much of a shitty person he is, and she could’ve ghosted him and never talk to him ever again yet she decided to acknowledge him as a person. Not wanting to cut him out of her life, even he himself wouldn’t do the same thing if he was her. It drove him off. 

He hates the way he projects himself. But it is how he is.He hates everything in his life. It’s insufferable and suffocating in his own flat. He didn’t ask to live like this, but he knew the only person he could blame was him. 

Not his family, 

Not his friends, 

And definitely not her. 

He couldn’t stay in his place any longer but as he was about to just grab his stuff and leave the place, there was a heavy knocking on his apartment door.

-

Life went on for a while that summer. He jogged to his car and placed his phone on the phone holder. He opens his phone, checking if he has any texts to answer before he starts driving. He sighs as he spots her name again when he opens his messaging app. He has read her text but he hasn’t replied to her. Opening her chatbox, he realized that there were also a few things he’d like to say to her. Tapping his heel and his leg bouncing anxiously, he contemplates whether or not he should reply to her or leave it be. 

“Fuck it,” he muttered. 

Pressing down the voice message icon, he starts to speak,

“Hey uh…hey love, thanks for the uhm message, I appreciated it r- fuck why do I sound so nervous?” Billy presses the stop button and deletes it. He clears his throat, “Hey uh, I got the birthday message, I really appreciated it, ta. I’ve been doing better…thanks for asking.” He said as he starts to drive his car. 

“Listen, I…I’ve been sittin’ and thinkin’ about all the things I wanted to apologize to you. All the shit and…pain we caused each other and everything I put on you, like how you think I needed you to be or needed you to say, and I’m sorry for that..really. I think I’m just doin’ that because I want to be better for you,  even until now.  And you know what, you helped make the best versions of me. We grew up together and there’ll be a piece of you in me too, always. Whatever we are in the future, and wherever you are in the world I just want you to know that I’ll always look for you and…I…,” he paused. 

I love you and I’ve never stopped loving you. 

“...I hope you have a great day too. Bye.”

Taking all of his courage, he presses the send button. 

Letting out a big sigh, he leans back onto his seat and tries to drive peacefully. 

Maybe a gum will help him calm down. 

A year ago. 

Billy remembered it like it was yesterday. It was late at night and Billy was watching something off the old Telly. He had a terrible day. After he failed to get into the military, he tried applying for high end jobs but it didn’t work out. Did another interview today and he just knew he’s gonna flunk it. The next thing he knows he’ll get an email saying that they’re sorry and all that bullshit. He sighed, leaning his head back on the couch. 

“Billy?” She called out from the doorway. 

“Hm?”

“How was the interview?” 

“Horrible,” he grunted. 

“You don’t know that-,”

“-They laughed at me,” he snapped his head towards her to the point it sets her off. “I-I didn’t kno-,” “Of course you don’t.” He cuts her off once again before getting up from his couch, brushing her off as he passed through her. “Fine,” she muttered and went to the bedroom. “Can you just be supportive for once?” Billy snapped again as he threw his beer bottle to the trash bin. “Just for once, be supportive of me?” He emphasized, with a hint of sarcasm, bitterness and frustration. “Supportive? Isn’t that what I’ve been doing all these years, Billy?” She replied, taking his words to an offence. 

“Oh really? Well I don’t think you’ve been supporting me, more like nagging at everything I do!”

“Criticising isn’t nagging, Billy!” 

“You call that criticising? Critics are supposed to help me be better not bringing me down!”

“I wasn’t bringing you down, Billy! I was just saying the truth! Your CV was weak you didn’t put your best qualities that should’ve been the key point-,”

“--Just stop! Stop it, you’re such a know it all, aren’t you?--”

“--Me? Ha! I’m not the one who can’t accept criticism! Who can’t accept real emotions–”

“--Oh fuck you! Atleast I’m not the one who got rejected by 10 publishers just because the book you’re writing is complete rubbish!”

Her eyes widened. As much as they like to argue, Billy will never dare to say anything about her work- most of all, her book. Billy’s rage died down as he realized what he just said. He crossed the line. He fucked up. He saw how her lips slightly trembled as she wanted to speak. 

She nodded as tears built up in her eyes. “So that’s how it’s gonna be?-”

“--No, fuck- babe I didn’t mean that I’m sorry–,”

“--No, it’s fine–,”

He gently walked towards her and tried to keep her from going away from him. Trapping her in a gentle embrace. “--No, it’s not fine…I’m sorry..I didn’t mean any of that…I messed up I’m sorry,” he apologized over and over again. Placing gentle kisses onto her head. His heart sank when he heard her sniffles. Gently stroking her hair, he murmured his apology to her showering her with kisses to make it all better. “Why are we like this?” She asked in a small tone. “Like what?”

“We keep hurting each other.”

Billy’s thoughts were suddenly snapped when a notification enters his phone 

Lana: Mate, I’m with Becky. She came to mine looking for you. Call me NOW. 

Becky? Why did she came to Lana looking for him?

That doesn’t makes any sense. 

Billy brushed it off and probably thought that Becky’s there to call him off or take her stuff from his flat or something. So he clicks on Lana’s contact number and dials her after constantly ignoring her. 

“Billy!”

“Can you put Becky on?” “Where are ya? Ya sound like you’re drivin’,”

“Yeah was drivin’ to meet my mates, why? Let me speak to Becky.”

“What mates? Anyone I know?”

“Just mates, Lana.” Billy says as he takes a turn on the road. “Why, what’s going off?”

“Listen, Billy I’m not with Becky- I just needed you to call me.” Billy furrowed his brows as he listened to his sister speak on the phone. 

“What?- What do you mean you’re not with Becky?- What do you mean- what- why?”

“I need to talk to ya. You’ve not been answering my calls. You’ve not been about-wh-where are you driving to?

Suddenly his car bumped into some people who were doing some protests. Flipping him off for bumping into them. “Billy? Billy- Where exactly are you?” Lana asks again. Billy flips a protestor on his side bumping into his car. “Farringdon Tube Station,” he answered Lana, annoyed. 

“Listen, Billy, it’s important, what are you doing at Farringdon Station?”

“I was meant to meet the lads but they’re not here. Outside the tube he said, but I can’t see them. Just a load of lefty wankers.”

“Billy, why did you drive, was that your idea?”

“Nah, my mates asked me to give some of the lads a lift down. Must be some kind of joke.” 

Billy looked around not finding any signs of those so called lads. Shit, he got set up. A joke, like people would see him as. Fuck. 

“Yeah they’ve set me up, haven’t they? Havin’ a laugh, aren’t they? Knobheads,” he says with a disappointed demeanor that even Lana could detect. 

“Billy, these new mates of yours, they’re not who you think they are.”

“Lana, what you on about?”

“Nick. Nick Roberts, he’s a…he’s a terrorist. One of the Crusaders that killed Nut.”

In a flash, he finds himself in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a fucking bomb inside of his car. He could hear his heart beating rapidly, his ears ringing as it mutes everyone and everything around him. From many different scenarios in his head, Billy didn’t think he’d die like this. Trapped in a car in the middle of Cranstead Fields with a ticking bomb that’s about to go off at any minute by now. His breath ragged and unstable as he kept an eye on the timer. Swallowing a lump on his throat, he looked up to his rearview mirror. “Oh no..,” he pants to himself. Scared to death, really. He wondered if he’s ever going to survive this. Maybe he should’ve chosen better shit in his life and maybe he won’t get blown off by a fucking bomb latched onto those terrorists. If only he chose better friends, listened to his sister, he’d be at home patching things up. If he was any good maybe he’d be watching some old telly show with her. 

Fuck, he didn’t even said goodbye. 

He hasn't told his mum and dad how sorry he was for being a mop, and for everything he did. 

“Billy! I’m here! Alright it’s gonna be fine! Just stay really still for me, I'm gonna have a look around the car.”,“Yeah you gotta do something about this,” he pants, glancing at the timer that’s still ticking. “About three minutes, yeah?” Three minutes and twenty five seconds. Twenty four, twenty three..shit! He hasn't read her new book. Lana tried to take a look at the bomb as well through the window with a worried and nervous expression. But when Billy faced her again, she tried to put on a brave face for her brother. “Okay stay still, I’m gonna go have a look- Don’t touch anything, I’m just gonna check the car okay?”

“Y-yeah, yeah…just-just hurry!”

11 months ago.

Billy leaned onto the hood of his car as the night breeze swept through him. One hand on his jacket pocket, and the other holding a fag as he took a drag out of it letting out a puff of smoke into the air. Looking down at his phone, he saw that it’s 7:00 pm sharp. She should be home from work by now. He sighs, flicking the cigarette down to the ground before stubbing it as he walks to the building. After going through security, he saw his sweetheart talking to the receptionist at the lobby as she had her bag on her shoulder. After finishing her chat with the receptionist she turned around and spotted him immediately. A smile plastered on her face. 

“Heya Billy…,” she greeted with a smile, hugging him with her arms around his neck. He kisses her cheek and neck intimately. “Hiya, love.” As they pull away from the hug, he has his arm around her waist leading her out of the building. “How’s work?” He asked as they walked towards his car together. “Same old, same old,” she shrugged. 

“And…how’s your book going?” His question made her giggle and grins in excitement. “I just got an email that..they’re actually going to publish my book!” She cheers. “Told ya they’d love it,” he said to her smugly, giving her a kiss on the head. “I was so scared and nervous though…but I guess I just needed to take a deep breath with it all,” she said, opening the passenger door. “Yeah, you actually do need to do that,” he said with a pregnant pause. He kept his eye on her as she fastened her seatbelt. 

“Hey, babe?”

“Hm?”

He gently strokes her hair. “Look, I just wanted to say sorry about that night. I was a big dick to you that night, didn’t know what came over me…,” he said carefully to her. “It’s fine–,”

“Don’t say that it’s fine, bub. It’s not. It was stupid and fucked up for me to say about your book. Those 10 publishers who rejected your book were also stupid. I think everything you write is amazing. Can’t wait for the next one.” He kissed the back of her hand, his eyes not leaving hers for a second. “You forgive me?” He asked. Billy saw a smile creeping on her face, “I’ll forgive you. If you promise you’d buy a copy of my book everytime I release one.” 

“Easy, I’d buy Five.”

“Five, huh? I’ll keep your promise, Washington.”

He chuckled, giving a kiss on her temple. 

“Promise, love.”

Present day, Cranstead Fields. 

What felt like an eternity of Lana checking the bloody car, he gripped his steering wheel while glancing at the timer once more. Two minutes and fifty three seconds. Fifty two…fifty one��his heartbeat was banging like a drum inside of his chest. Breathing in, breathing out. Lana looked at the timer and the bomb through the passenger seat’s window, trying to find a solution and just..anything! To turn that stupid bomb off. But her expression wasn’t that convincing. It scared him. 

“How bad is it?” He had to ask Lana. 

Lana could only look back at him with a nervous smile. “It’s fine,” she lied. 

“I can tell when you’re lying, man! So how bad is it?!” He asked again. 

He kept screaming his sister’s name as she went away for awhile- but she can’t just  leave him, he needed his sister. Screaming out Lana’s name like a mad man, his face gone red as he cried inside his car. He does not want to die. He swore it felt like hours inside that stupid car. From the rearview mirror he saw Lana running back to him. “Billy! Listen to me! LISTEN TO ME! LOOK AT ME, YEAH? The timer means nothing! They put it there as a trick so you’ll open the door–,”

“--please–,”

“--Can you hear me?!”

“...please,” he begged again.

“Don’t touch it! Stay still! It’s gonna be fine.”

“Oh fuck,” His head hangs low as he realized that there’s no way out of this situation. 

“Listen to me, I’m your sister, okay?!”

She’s his sister.

“You need to trust me, I’m gonna go and get some stuff–,”

“--Lana please, don’t go–,”

“--You gotta trust me! It’s gonna be fine.”

He swallowed a lump in his throat as he nodded. Okay. It’s gonna be fine. It is. It is. 

He resisted the temptation and fear of opening the door. But when the timer ran out, it freaked him out. But everything was silent, no explosion or anything going off. There he realized that Lana was right. It was a trick. Okay- fuck. He has to stay focused right now. Watching from the rearview mirror once more, he saw Lana’s team hurriedly bringing their tools. 

“Alright Billy, we’re gonna just take off the rear window so you could crawl out, yeah? Stay. Still,” Lana reminded him calmly. She takes a glance at the bomb once more, giving him a thin reassuring smile. “See? It’s gonna be fine. Don’t touch anything.” Billy nodded at her words even if he was internally screaming. Slowly, he saw how her team plucked out his rear window. “Okay Billy, just slowly crawl right out. We got you,” Hass says, reaching out his arms to pull Billy out. Billy nodded and carefully crawled from the front seat, avoiding the shift gear or anything really! Not wanting to trigger the bomb. As he reached the backseat, the timer of the bomb went on again. 

“Shit!” Billy screamed, hastily scrambling out of the car. He lets his sister and Hass pull him out taking his arms. “Get me out of here!” He screamed as they all grunted, pulling him out of the car. Billy landed on the ground with a thud and the team ran from the car as the timer counted down from five.

“Fuck, ma ankle!” Billy winced as he rubbed his ankle that got twisted after he got out from the car to the ground. 

Four…

“Billy!” Lana screamed from afar. 

Three…

“Shit shit shit shit.”

Two…

Billy tried to walk as fast as he could, away from the car. 

One. 

-

Billy didn’t explode in the car, but his ankle got twisted and his leg was burned from the sparks of the explosion. Laying down on the hospital bed after consulting with medical staff in the ER, Lana accompanied him throughout the day. Not leaving his side. Even his parents came to check up on him. His mum was crying, thinking that he died or something. It made his heart warm by the fact that he had a second chance with his family. His dad hugged him for the first time in years which was also surprising. But, he liked that surprise. 

“Miss, you’re not supposed to go in there-,” he heard one of the nurses said from outside. What kind of commotion is happeni-.

And there she was. 

Panting like as if she was just running a marathon, she stood there by the ER doorway. Then she saw him. “Billy!” she sighs in relief before instantly running to him. Billy couldn’t believe it as they both embraced each other. She hugs his head close to her chest, her heart beating rapidly. 

“H-how did you-,”

“--Lana called me,” she says with a relieved smile, running her delicate fingers through his hair. Billy turns to look at Lana and saw Lana sipping her coffee with a mischievous smile that says; ‘Thank me later’ all over her face. He gave his sister a nod before turning back up to her. 

“Are you okay?” She aks, concerningly. “Never better, love.”

He was done with being afraid. Done being a coward. 

In her embrace, he pecks her lips. 

Even though she was quite surprised, he earned nothing but a smile from his sweetheart. 

“I’d say yes, y’know?”

“About what?”

“If you still want to marry me.” 

Billy smiles to her. Guess he gotta save up then.

A/N: I SWEARRRR this fic took me so long to complete cuz it’s so overwhelming to write especially the Cranstead Fields scene- I had to go back and forth on youtube to keep the dialogues and description right꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱. But anw, thank you so much for reading until the end! I hope you guys enjoyed it and I still had so much fun writing this fic. I hope this fic makes sense, cuz I really wanted to keep it as accurate as possible with ‘Trigger Point’ in the first place(゜▽゜;). I’m up for requests for any Ewan characters and if you want me to write something in the future or you have ANY fic ideas, don’t hesitate to hmu! My inbox is open :D THANK YOUU!!! 

P.S, I would like to give a little shoutout to @/targaryenrealnessdarling and the Cranstead Fields scene was also inspired by their Billy Washington series fic called “It’s Who We Have” so please check their blog as well they wrote so many amazing fics. 

That’s all! Love, Alice!ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐

Tags🎀: @ladytargg @anukulee @michaelsgavey @whencokewascasual @fan-goddess

[minaaaliyah]

Chapter 1

M

Devin, New Jersey

Early November

“Mina?” I heard kaylina call out. I was in the back room changing for tonight. “Here you are Mina! I’ve been looking for you.” She said with an upset voice.

“Sorry girl but I have to get dress and then help Ryan set up the bar for tonight. It is bad enough I was late.” I said walking to my locker for my hair tie. Kaylina came up behind me and helped me put my hair in a ponytail. “What happened! Normally I am the late one but today is you. Is everything alright.” She finished putting my hair back and took a step back. I closed my locked and took a deep breath.

I turned around I nodded my head and walked to the door after checking myself out. Once we walked out I seen Ryan cleaning glasses. I walked over there while Kaylina walked to other side. “Ugh! I need a drink. Ryan! give me my normal.” Kaylina said waving her hand back and forth. Ryan rolled her eyes and gave her a sweet tea out the mini fridge. Kaylin’s rolled her eyes taking the drink and walking away.

When I looked to see where she was going i seen Emerald walked over after saying something to one of the dancers. She came over to the side of the bar and gave me a hug a small kiss on the forehead “Hey Mymy. Why didn’t you text me to come get you.”She smiled softly looking down at me. “Sorry Emmy. I just had a lot to do and Zy wouldn’t go to sleep unless I was there with him. So I was late and had to uber. Sorry I didn’t call you but weren’t you in a meeting anyway.” I said restocking the liquor on the shelves. “That didn’t matter Mymy! It’s late at night and you ubering is not safe! Don’t make me hurt you girl. I know you’re smarter than that!”

Emmy took my hand a smacked it like I was a child. I took my hand out of hers, rolled my eyes and walked to the back of the bar where we keep the liquor. Today was Friday and we are mostly busy over the weekend so I wanted to make sure we had enough liquor in the front for tonight.

A little later

“Girl my feet hurt. Those heels are not for the weak. Aren’t you glad you aren’t a stripper Mina.” Kaylina said seating down behind the bar. We have been open for about 2 hours at the club is busy.I’ve been running around trying to make sure i get everyone’s drink orders. “Yeah, I am but my feet hurt too from running around. Im kinda upset that I didn’t get to see you perform.” I said grabbing drinks and putting them on my tray. I didn’t even get to her what she said before I walked away to give this table of girls their shots. “Here you guys go sorry about the wait ladies.” I said smiling at the group of girls. It was someone birthday so they get free shots on the house.

“Oh my gosh! thank you so much. Guys we have to tip her good!” They drunk birthday girl said. She was on her 5 drink and I don’t even know what shot number she was on but drunk was a understatement for what she was. Walking away from the group I made it back to the bar and took a sit.

I went to messages and seen my brother texted me a picture of Zylus still sleep. I hearted the picture and put my phone in my pocket when I heard someone call my name. “Mina! I need you to be the bottle girl for the VIP room tonight. Mia called out so it just Layla but she didn’t want to do it. Ryan said looking at the tablet in her hand. She been stressing all night because people keep calling out so it’s just 3 of us tonight.

“Um, sure i guess it’s like i have a choice” I said getting up and walking to where she was. She handed me a tray with dark liquor and a tray with light liquor. “ Ok it’s the VIP room on the third floor so you can use the elevator and the cart to help you. Just swipe your card and the elevator should work if not here is mines. Once’s you get up there knock 4 times before entering so they can know you are coming in.” She said handing me her id card and the cart. Once’s I put the trays on the cart i walked over to the back of the club and used her id card to get in.

S

“I’m telling y’all she wants me.She just playing with me.” Nawi said passing the blunt to Emerald. She telling us about this girl that she met who is playing hard to get. I don’t know why she thinks we give a fuck but we really don’t care.

“I don’t think she play Nawi.Its been about 2 months now.If she was playing hard to get she would have been told you now.” Izgoie said with a smirk on her face.

After she says said that we hear 4 knocks at the door. “Come in” i said looking down at my phone. “Sorry to interrupt but I am Mina your bottle girl for today.” I hear this sweet smooth voice say. When I looked up I seen who was talking. She looks new because i’ve never seen her before. She looks about 5’5, with the softest brown skin. As she walks in and puts the bottles on the table I look over to Izgoie and she looks her up and down with this subtle expression.

“Mina! you not no bottle girl you’re a bartender. What you doing up here. Emerald said getting up. I looked at her confused.How the fuck she know her. Emerald grabs the girl “Mina” hand and walks to the corner of the room. I look back over to Izgoie and she looks at me “She beautiful. How come i’ve never seen her before.” she said looking at me than back at her

“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before either.” I said looking at her fully. She had the prettiest curly hair with baby hairs out into swoops. Her eyes were 2 different colors, light brown and hazel.

And man let’s not forget her body. I can tell she had a little pug but it didn’t look bad on her.

“you know i don’t like you coming up here mina” Emerald said with an attitude.

They talked for a while before mina looked around and looked at me. We held eye contact before she looked at Izgoie.She smiled at her before putting thebottles in her hand on the table, hugged Emerald and walk out..

THE END

[rambosgirl]

Request from @redviper321: Could you write a Rambo x Reader, where they both are old friends. {But write a bit on how they meet -> They both meet, a bit of enemies to friends; like they both hate each other at first but had to work together in a mission (a random mission) and they both set aside their differences and soon became friends after.} Now into the First Movie (First Blood) you know the scene where Rambo is mistreated when Hope Sheriff Will Teasle brings in Rambo into the station; also put in that a random cop had also found the Reader is like the same way as Rambo. You can continue the rest from here; this is just an idea that came to me because I now start to watch Rambo Movies. I might make more request for the other movies later on. Also sorry if this request is so long.

Don't even worry about it, I love requests! Sorry it took so long!

Warnings: Galt sexually harassing/being creepy toward reader, Teasle being insufferable as per usual (they both pissed me off but I was the one writing their lines oopsie)

Masterlist

Enemies in Arms

Your trouble with John Rambo started when you first crossed paths on a covert operation in hostile territory. You were both highly skilled, him as a soldier, and you as a medic, so naturally, your commanding officers selected you for the mission. You soon found that your assigned partner was unorthodox and often reckless in his methods, while you strictly adhered to protocol. Rambo found that part of you irritating, the fact that you couldn't stray from the rules even when it meant the mission would go better. Your differences quickly led to a mutual disdain for each other, and the mission was almost jeopardized by both of your constant bickering with each other.

The argument swiftly ended when the pair was ambushed by enemy forces. Despite your differences you were forced to fight side by side in a moment of desperation and survival. During the heat of battle, you saw each other's strengths and weaknesses complimented each other like puzzle pieces, making you and him an effective team. Your rigidity for rules often kept you both safe, while his risk taking behavior often led to victory.

By the time the mission ended successfully, your mutual respect for each other blossomed into friendship.

Keeping in touch proved difficult during the war, but after it ended and you both returned to the States, you would send letters sporadically. Rambo never seemed to have a permanent address, but you settled down in a little cabin in Liggett County, Washington, just beyond a small town called Hope.

You avoided going into town because based on your past experiences, the people there weren't too friendly with people like you. You tried to live off the land, but at a point, you couldn't get everything you needed from your garden or hunting.

You were at that point right now.

Your garden had vegetables this morning, but the wild bunnies must have gotten to them first, as you saw a freshly dug hole going under your garden fence line. So after a few moments of grumbling, you got ready to go into town to get food for dinner.

Once there, you went straight to the local grocery store. The sun was already starting to go down, so you had to hurry. You got what you needed, went to the checkout line, and bought your groceries without having to socialize.

You made it out just after the sun dipped behind the buildings, casting long shadows in a reddish glow. It was still light enough to make your way back, just barely.

You started down the sidewalk at a fast pace but didn't make it too far before someone pulled up beside you in a car. Casting a glance at them you saw it wasn't just any car. It was a police car.

'Great,' you thought, 'Just what I need right now.' You rolled your eyes before putting on your most charming smile and turning to the man in the patrol car. He had lighter hair with a matching mustache lining his upturned lips. You were about to ask him if anything was wrong, but as you opened your mouth, he spoke.

"Where are you headed to in such a hurry miss?" He had an accent you couldn't place, but it made your skin crawl.

"Home," you answered short but polite. The last thing you needed was a cop pissed at you.

"Well then, why don't I give you a ride, it is getting late," he said, looking you up and down, his eyes lingering too long for your comfort. You might have said yes to someone else, but this man was giving you a bad feeling.

"It's too late for a pretty little thing like you to be walking home without company."

Nope, he was just plain creepy.

"Thank you for the offer, but I enjoy the walk and can handle myself."

You started walking, but the officer turned his lights and sirens on and pulled forward, keeping up with you. This drew the attention of a few townspeople walking nearby. Your anxiety spiked when he got out in front of you. You knew you could handle yourself if it really came down to a fight, but you wanted to keep your innocent reputation in the town, which meant not picking fights with the police.

He towered over you, a frown deepening on his face. "I really suggest you take my offer," he threatened. You thought about cutting your losses and getting in the car, but you determined your dignity was worth more than whatever he was trying to do.

"And if I don't?" you questioned.

"Well, then I suppose instead of taking you home I'll take you to the station," he said matter-of-factly, a sick smile on his face.

You scoffed at the proposal. "You can't do that, I've done nothing wrong."

"It's my word against yours," he started, "As far as I'm concerned, those groceries in your hands were stolen."

You scoffed at his words. "You can't do this, it's wro-"

"I can do what I want," he hissed, "And now that I'm tired of waiting for you, turn around and put your hands behind your back."

"And if I don't?"

"Well then, I guess I get an excuse to do it forcefully," he said, winking.

You felt sick. You learned that fighting back wouldn't get you anywhere, and you did not want to give him the sick joy of forcing you into his handcuffs, so you reluctantly turned around, sighing as he cuffed you.

Next thing you knew, you were shoved in his backseat on the way to the police station. By the time you reached the station, the sun had dipped below the horizon. Inside, the atmosphere was even darker than the night outside. You were led past the front desk, barely exchanging a word with the officer there, who gave a small nod as they processed you into the system.

They eventually got you into a holding cell to spend the night before your trial in the morning. You sat on the 'bed', feeling overwhelmed, hungry, exhausted, and haunted by the officer's threats. You tried not to show your unease as he was still watching you from across the room, stealing glances as if testing your limits.

You would have called him out for it if you weren't so hungry. Your physical exhaustion took out any fight you had in you. It was now around 10pm, your dinner groceries long forgotten in some evidence bin. You tried to quiet your stomach's growls, but it wasn't working too well. You decided to turn your thoughts to something other than food to save yourself the anguish.

You were deep in thought when a young redhead officer came up to your cell, a plate of food in his hands. You looked up at him as he approached, searching his expression for any ill intent toward you.

"I heard your stomach growling from across the bullpen," he said with a small, awkward smile. He slid the plate through the food slot in the door. "I figured you hadn’t had dinner yet."

You tilted your head looking at him, trying to figure him out.

"I know it's not your groceries, but it's better than what we would normally give to... prisoners," he hesitated on the last word as if to find a more accurate description of you.

"You don't act like the other officers," you stated, moving towards him and the food you so desperately needed.

He shifted his feet, looking down. "If I'm being honest, I don't think Arthur should have brought you here. He is wrong for that," he said, looking back up at you.

Your gaze met his. For the first time tonight, you saw someone who wasn’t trying to intimidate or manipulate you. There was a sincerity in Mitch’s eyes, a sense that he understood the injustice of your situation.

The moment was cut short when Arthur called for Mitch from across the bullpen, eyeing the two of you suspiciously. You turned around in your cell with the food, beginning to eat as you sat back down.

The rest of the night felt slow. The sounds of the busy bullpen quieted down, officers switching shifts and the sound of footsteps few and far between. Sleep eventually caught up with you, your eyes refusing to stay open, clashing with the need to stay alert. The cot in the cell was uncomfortable but better than nothing.

You woke up slowly, light pouring in through a tiny, barred window high up on the wall of your cell. You sat up, your body aching from every movement.

The station was already buzzing with activity, with officers and deputies walking around and filling out paperwork. Your eyes landed on a clock on the other side of the room. From where you were, you could tell it was somewhere around 11: 40. Man, you slept in.

You scanned the room for Mitch, eventually finding him at the front desk, talking to a mom and a kid. You wanted to get his attention to ask how much longer you would be here, but you didn't want to draw unwanted attention from Galt.

Galt. Your eyes zipped over the bullpen to locate your biggest threat, which you found at a desk just past the front receptionist. He had headphones in, distracted by his work.

Good. As long as he wasn't bothering you.

The ambiance stayed the same as more time passed, but you became restless. You hated just sitting here, waiting for someone to say you could go home.

Every now and then, Mitch would glance your way, but his attention would always go back to the mother, who seemed to be distressed.

You elected to close your eyes again, sitting against the wall. The noise of the station became white noise, droning on and eventually zoning out as you felt your drowsiness take over yet again.

Just before sleep reclaimed you, a loud voice broke the threshold that kept the chatter as 'white noise'.

"Buzz us in, will ya?"

You opened your eyes to find the source of your annoyance, seeing a larger officer coming in past the front desk, pushing in a disheveled man.

You sucked in a breath as the pair got closer and you could see the man's face. It was John.

Before you could think, you were already standing, your hands gripping the bars of your cell, desperately trying to get closer to John.

Your movement caught Mitch's attention. He glanced between the two of you, putting the pieces together that you knew each other somehow.

You focused back on John. His hair was longer than you remembered, but you were certain it was him. Your eyes followed him as he was taken across the station and eventually handed off to Mitch, who took him down a staircase that sat behind a heavy, locked door.

Your heart raced as the door closed, cutting you off from seeing your old friend. You didn't know what to do next. John was here. Arrested.

You had to find out why. You had to talk to him.

Mitch eventually came back to the bullpen with dog tags. John's dog tags.

You got his attention while the tags were being processed by a lady sitting at a computer. Mitch walked up to you, asking if you needed anything.

"That man, why is he here?" you asked.

"You know him, don't you?" Mitch half whispered back, his eyes darting around for anyone listening in. You nodded.

"Apparently for vagrancy and resisting arrest, but this isn't the first time Teasle brought in a veteran for that same reason," he replied.

"So his arrest was unjust too?"

"I can't say for sure yet," he replied apologetically before being called back by the lady processing the tags. He started to turn, but you called to him again.

"Mitch."

He turned to face you again, prompting you to continue. "This is going to end badly."

He looked at you solemnly before heading to the processing lady.

You knew what John was capable of, now you just had to wait for the inevitable to happen and hope John notices you when it does.

[gweelczz]

“Don’t nobody wanna hear that”

Emerald Haywood x black!fem!reader

(might just make this a damn Everybody x reader because that’s where it’s going smh sorry y’all)

Warnings: mentions of swearing (mostly Emerald), Oj and Angel are included, Angel has horrible anxiety and needs a hug desperately, blunt passing, alcohol consumption (reader and Oj, reader is of age), spoilers for movie NOPE, some slight ooc things that don’t go with the movie plot, they all love each other so much

Word count: let that shit ride

Genre: suggestive, mostly fluff, elements of horror (Jean Jacket)

Summary: Jean Jacket is hounding the territory of the Haywood ranch and Emerald is tired of hearing about it, she wishes things could go back to the way they were while Oj is out for revenge. Angel’s nerves are shot and he could really use a hug

“Why can’t we ever just do normal shit without you bringing up t-that thing who took pops!?” Emerald was sat next to Oj trying to focus on her fish sandwich and fries but her knuckle-headed brother was making it hard. Oj sat glancing out of the window halfway in thought halfway tuning his sister out. He understood where she was coming from but as long as that thing was alive he wouldn’t allow himself to rest, not yet at least. There was shit to be done, flying saucer and screaming in the sky or not and he wished his sister understood that. He didn’t want to fight with her but it seemed this situation wasn’t sinking in for her. “Don’t nobody wanna talk about that” she continued glancing at her tray before reaching over to take your hand in hers. You sat across from them next to Angel who had shut out the world traumatized from the events that took place earlier that evening. His mind wouldn’t let him erase the sounds of people screaming in the sky right above the house, the blood oozing down the windows and that cloud that never moved for the past six months. He fiddled with a bracelet you gifted him awhile back after a few months of working at Frys, he did it when his anxiety was getting really bad and he needed to ground himself. You placed a hand on his thigh reassuringly giving it a soft pat, you two share a slight smile before you turned to face Emerald.

She gazed at you visibly relaxing when you smiled softly at her. You two had started dating a few months back before her dad had passed. You had been there for her and Oj helping them with everything they needed. You became like part of the crew growing closer to all of them even helping them with the installation of their cameras alongside Angel. You gently squeezed her hand rubbing your ring clad thumb across the back of it. “Emerald he’s right baby, we gotta kill this thing before we even think about trying to live relatively normal lives again, innocent people are dying.” You gazed at her with a sympathetic smile watching as she deflated and her shoulders dropped. Angel had finished his food last not really having an appetite, placing his hands on the table he sighed gazing between the siblings who were slightly bickering again. “I’m going outside” and without waiting for a response he kissed your cheek silently thanking you for the comfort and hopped over the booth seat making his way out of the door. He definitely needed some space and you’d all grant him that. About twenty minutes had passed and you wanted to check on him, standing to your feet you followed Angel outside the other two heavy on your trail.

“What do you want me to do Oj? Huh? You want me to say I’m sorry? Is that it!?” Emerald lashed out softer than you thought she was outstretching her arms as she stared at her partner in crime since they were kids. He stood undeterred and blank faced. “There’s shit to do Em, I got mouths to feed” his baritone octave shot out from where he stood, soft spoken as usual with strength behind it. Now was not the time to be arguing with her especially when that thing was still alive but she needed to stop blocking it out as if it never happened. Emerald, defeated hung her head before turning away from you three “there’s always shit to do”. Angel who had been silent since they walked outside placed the hood of his jacket over his head before speaking “well I’m assuming you’re crashing at my place… because you can” he mumbled before sharing a look with you and walking off towards the van. You’d be sure to speak with him later. You walked over to Oj placing a hand on his shoulder tossing him a small smile. He’d grew on you when it came to affection usually making a disgusted face but when it came to you three he allowed it in his system just for a little while. “Cowboy is it alright to kiss your cheek?” You softly asked not wanting to ever overwhelm him or push past his limit, but with you three his limit was unlimited.

He tossed you a side eyed glance with a soft “Mhm” before tapping his cheek. You leaned up a bit placing a soft kiss there wiping your lipgloss off afterwards “just give her time cowboy, just give her time”.

———

The ride back was mostly silent considering the tension was so thick you could slice it like butter. You rode in the back with Emerald your hands intertwined with hers while playing in her curls. You shared a few kisses and you squeezed her gently silently reassuring her. Pulling up to Angel’s apartment which was not new to you, you all climbed out walking inside. Angel went straight to his room after telling you guys to make yourselves at home (he definitely was not okay no matter how many times he said it) Oj occupied the spare bedroom opting to give you guys space and himself peace of mind leaving you and Emerald in the living room. You both laid on the couch you on your back and her on top of you tracing patterns onto your skin. A hand in your braids fiddling with the jewels her and Angel helped you place in them. “He’s right but I don’t want to admit it… admitting it makes that thing real and I don’t want my brother hurt. He’s the only thing I have left since pops and if I lose him I’ll lose my fucking mind.” You listened silently as she vented playing in her curls mindlessly, a habit you’d picked up.

You now understand why she was so adamant to leave this place and take you all with her, she was scared, hell you all were but if you knew Oj like you think you did he’d never voice it. Just like he never voiced his grief.. “I know baby, which is why we gotta fight this thing, Oj is brave and he always puts us first.. we need to take care of him for a change. We’re gonna be okay.. all of us.” You spoke softly kissing her cheeks softly moving over to her lips. Her tongue taking purchase in your mouth as the kiss grew heated. Coming up for air breathlessly, emerald placed her forehead against yours chuckling softly “you better stop where you at before I lift up this dress and satisfy my appetite, haven’t had you in days”. “Emerald Monica Haywood this is not your house you are not doing that here!” You whisper yelled rolling your eyes. “If you want I can go get Angel, I’ve seen the way y’all look at each other.. I could film! man that shit would be hot!” She rubbed your thigh while speaking with a smirk drawn on her lips causing you to swat her arm. “Shut up nigga!” “Ion see yo ass denying that shit” emerald smirked wider making you push her off “I’m going to go cuddle Angel dammit”

You could hear her laughing as you both walked towards the back, you to Angel’s room her to Oj’s. Knocking on the cherry wood door you waited patiently for a response. After hearing the soft ‘come in’ you made your way inside immediately noticing how Angel tired to quickly wipe his tears. “Oh AJ” you sighed walking over to his bed in his small cluttered room, band records lay across the floor, a pile of clothes in the corner and his desk area with his desktop so cluttered you could barely see the chair. You sat down beside him gently taking his hands squeezing them softly “tell me what’s wrong, please”. Before he could respond you stopped him already knowing what he would say, “It’s not nothing, you’re not fine and no it’s not childish.. but I won’t push you, you’ve had a rough three to fours days. Your anxiety is shot and you’re terrified to step foot back on that ranch.. you’ve know me for how long? Talk to me AJ”. Angel took a deep breath allowing the tears to fall, he shook his head breathing out a sob. “I-I know this is bigger than me b-but I could be doing more! OJ almost died a-and those screams and t-the blood I’ll never be able to erase that from my mind.. those innocent people died because of a fake cowboy with a god complex and it’s after us next!

I… I can’t stomach the thought of one of you dying and me standing there helplessly and frozen in fear. I care about all of you so much, you all adopted me into the group like one of your own a-and I don’t want to be dead weight or a liability..”. He was full on sobbing now making Emerald and Oj’s ears perk up, making their way across the hall to his room Emerald rapidly knocked. “Is he okay!? Is he hurt!? What’s going on!?” The last thing she wanted was for something to happen to any of you and so hearing Angel full on sobbing frightened the both of them. “Oj you try” she whispered to her brother clutching his arm slightly tugging “Angs can we come in? We just want to make sure you’re okay… we’ll sit out here if it’s too much”. Angel gazed at you nodding his head through tears, he was so inconsolable he couldn’t speak.

He didn’t want space between them he wanted all of them close to him that way he could see they were alright. He was sobbing into your chest as you spoke through the door on his behalf, “come on in guys”. Emerald hesitated not wanting to overwhelm him with too many people, she glanced at OJ who was already looking at her. They spoke with no words. “Are you sure? We don’t want to make it worse”, there was a pause before they heard you speak again “he wants you guys in here too” and that’s all Emerald needed to hear before she was opening the door and heading inside OJ in tow. OJ closed the door behind him while Emerald sat on the bed gazing at Angel who had stopped sobbing but was still shedding tears. OJ sat beside her gazing at everyone silently. “Angel it’s alright we’re all here in one piece see?” Emerald thumped the back of OJ’s head jokingly hoping to earn at least a small smile from the other. “And you’re still here with us” Oj glared at Emerald nudging her shoulder with his elbow “get away from me” he mumbled rolling his eyes which caused Angel to crack a small smile.

You rubbed his back in soft circles smiling as well at the other’s antics. Emerald beamed in triumph placing an arm around Oj’s shoulders which he allowed for now before speaking. “Thanks for saving my ass out there A, if you hadn’t been there I would’ve walked out of the house and who knows what would’ve happened to me. You’re a brave son of a bitch with quick ass thinking” Angel smiled a bit nodding his head “All I did was grab a knife and take shelter but I’m glad I saved you and thank you for calling me brave… it means a lot to me”. Emerald shook her head placing a hand onto his leg “you’re braver than me! The first night here when we found out about it I was ready to dip, but grumpy over here wouldn’t leave with me” OJ rolled his eyes slightly nudging her once again “got mouths to feed”. She rolled her eyes this time thumping his head again “yeah yeah yeah, well now you only have four and three of us can feed ourselves!” They began to bicker again causing you and Angel to laugh. Yeah, you guys were gonna be alright.

[dankusner]

The two sides of Mark Twain

Samuel Longhorne Clemens, better known under his pen name Mark Twain, is the subject of an extensive biography by Ron Chernow.

Samuel Langhorne Clemens may well have led a happier life if he had remained a steamboat pilot on the Mississippi.

But then he never would have become Mark Twain — with all the heartache, frustration and dadgum bother (as he might put it) that job entailed.

It’s that dark side, usually cloaked beneath Twain’s legend, that dominates Ron Chernow’s massive new biography.

Following on his popular works about Hamilton, Washington and Grant, Chernow here documents Twain’s failings, as well as his triumphs, in exhaustive fashion.

It is a rich life, to be sure.

Chernow takes the first half of the book to cover the Twain we know best: the years in which the boy from Hannibal, Mo., becomes a printer, pilots a steamboat, enlists in the Confederate army, mines silver in Nevada and writes for a Virginia City newspaper.

He follows his first bestseller, “The Innocents Abroad,” with marriage to heiress Olivia Langdon, builds an opulent mansion in Hartford, Conn., and proceeds to create “a literary voice that was wholly American,” Chernow writes, “capturing the vernacular of western towns and small villages where a new culture had arisen.”

Capable of great hatred and great empathy, by turns explosive and thoughtful, Twain at 60 had written the books for which we most remember him: novels about Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn, “Roughing It,” “The Prince and the Pauper,” “Life on the Mississippi,” on and on.

At the same time, he had become the most popular lecturer of the era, delighting audiences here and abroad with his deadpan wit and homespun observations.

Alas, there was little to laugh about at home.

The second half of the book documents Twain’s final and unrelentingly dark 15 years, which saw him battling bronchitis (he smoked 40 times a day), gout and carbuncles, and fending off creditors made numerous by his extravagance (the reader will lose track of the number of homes the family rented in Europe, ostensibly to save money on their lifestyle in Hartford).

He mourned the untimely deaths of two daughters and his devoted but fragile wife, who died at 58 of heart failure.

A third daughter struggled with epilepsy.

Always inclined to gloom, the narcissistic Twain berated himself for hastening their demise through his own negligence.

“Ah, this odious swindle, human life,” he grimly scribbled in one of his notebooks.

Born with the Southern prejudice of his youth, he became an outspoken critic of racism against Black Americans (though not so much with American Indians); white people, he said, had “ground the manhood out of them, and the shame is ours, not theirs, and we should pay for it.”

He loathed the slogan “Our country, right or wrong,” calling patriotism “a word that always commemorates a robbery.”

Though he typically lined up with Republicans, he was appalled by friends who rushed to support corrupt GOP presidential nominee James G. Blaine, who favored higher tariffs, a ban on Chinese workers and extending the American flag abroad.

“Isn’t human nature the most consummate sham and lie that was ever invented?” he wrote.

Then there were Twain’s quirks, what Chernow calls the “large assortment of weird sides to his nature.”

He comes off as daft for making disastrous investments in unpromising inventions, the most notable being an estimated $300,000 ($8 million to $10 million today) he sank into a maddeningly defective typesetter.

And it’s hard not to think Twain creepy for his attraction to adolescent girls — “angelfish,” he called them — whom he met in chance encounters and proceeded to romance with sweetly worded letters.

Some consider his behavior that of a latent pedophile, though Chernow notes he was never accused of predatory conduct.

Twain was skeptical of biographies, saying they captured only “the clothes and buttons of a man” rather than the man himself.

But he would be hard-pressed to make that case against Chernow. More than simply a book about America’s seminal writer, this is a long and winding story about the quintessential American — clothes and buttons, mind and heart, warts and all.

[shurisbathwater]

𝖯𝖮𝖵 : 𝖬𝖮 𝖶𝖠𝖲𝖧𝖨𝖭𝖦𝖳𝖮𝖭 𝖲𝖧𝖮𝖶𝖲 𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖧𝖮𝖶 𝖳𝖮 𝖴𝖲𝖤 𝖠 𝖦𝖴𝖭.

𝖭𝖮𝖳𝖤𝖲 :: VERY MUCH Suggestive, black fem reader.  rivals/ enemies to lovers (??)

When I tell u I was trying not to bust while writing thi– its funny how little is more lmao. Anyway enjoy, I have more fics of wifey that I'm working on so I hope u can accept this for now 🤭💕

𝖸𝖮𝖴 𝖬𝖴𝖳𝖳𝖤𝖱𝖤𝖣 curses under your breath as you shot the gun once again, not getting the target for what felt like the millionth time. You throw the gun in frustration and sigh. You  begin to sluggishly walk back to your cabin in defeat.

"Need help?" A voice asks you. You freeze in your tracks as you realise who the voice exactly is.

Mo Washington. The only person you could ever go weak over, and she knows that. She enjoys seeing the effect of the power she has over you, and how her touch could simply make your knees weak in an instant.

"Its all good, I was done here anyways..." You mutter, your back still to her, letting your pride get the best of you. You could never, ever, admit to her of all people that you needed help. Never. She'd hang it over your head for eternity.

"You shouldn't lie to me, you know?" You hear her footsteps coming towards you, and the hairs on your neck rise in an instant.

You felt her presence behind you, and your breath hitched as she leaned down to whisper in your ear.

"I see right through 'ya." She breathed into your neck, chuckling lightly as you trembled under her, though she hadn't even touched you. She sees the gun laying on the ground and puts it into your hand, looking into your eyes for a split second. She walks back behind you.

You both knew the sexual tension you had with eachother, but yet none of you would act on it. It was better this way you thought.

You manage to aim the gun with your shaky and clammy hands, looking straight at your target. "See..thats where you're going wrong." She says as she stands behind you, you feel her heavy breathing on your neck, and your knees begin to give out.

She feels your knees going weak, and she grabs your hips to pull you up again. "Hey, now." She chuckles as she snakes her arm on top of yours, guiding you.

"I want you to aim right there, can you do that for me?" She teases, whispering into your ear.

You nod slowly in response.

She rests her chin on your shoulder, her fingers gliding on top yours. You breath out shakily as you feel your mouth going dry, and the spot between your legs pulsating.

Unknowingly, begin to lean back and rest into her touch. "There you go, you got it." She praises as she slowly guides you to aim, her thick accent buzzing through your body.

You pull the trigger and it instantly lands on the target, and you breathe out in relief, finally getting it, with Mo's help.

"I knew you could get it. You just needed a little help." She jokes, and you roll your eyes in response.

"Go away, Mo." You say as you cross your arms. " dont I deserve a thank you?" She raises her brows as she shrugs.

"Thank you. Now go away." You push her playfully.

"Let me know if you need anymore of my ... help." She smirks as she leans in closer to you. "I'll be waiting." She winks as she walks away, looking back at you once more.

Now If yall want more, I can gladly write more of them bc they're givinggg 😩 anyways what did yall think?

[axailslink]

A few favorites from the Surrounded trailer

I knew I was going to be excited but that word does not explain my fucking feelings right now

[cashcart1er]

UPDATED TAGLIST

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[thethickerside]

Y’all I just watched Surrounded. Best believe that when I’m done with this little smut oneshot I’m writing, the Moses Washington stories will be flooding in— like omg, it was so good.

[minaaaliyah]

y’all wanna update on the book

[gweelczz]

Should I take down the “CGYT?” Series yall? I think imma take it down