#a drink of water when you're parched

[nic-coughlan]

good omens 2 is like a car wreck, there's people screaming, the music on the radio is still playing despite the car being wrecked, you're fighting for your life and it's chaos...and then just when all hope is fading....a great light is approaching you in the distance.....it's....it's heartstopper season two and they're here to save you

[gumified]

PRICE TO PAY

pairing: god!satoru gojo x fem!reader

summary: you had prayed and prayed for the drought to finally end, for the village to finally be granted rain, so when meeting one of the gods you strike a deal and pay the price.

content: 4.4k, smut, pwp, big dick!gojo, virgin!reader, praise, degradation, dirty talk, cunnilingus (fem. receiving), ice play, bondage, gagging, fingering, squirting, orgasm control, overstimulation, public but also not public sex

note: have fun :D

The heat beat down on your face as you walked up the hill, buckets of water straining your shoulders. Your throat was parched and you were drenched in sweat. You were so thirsty it was unbearable. It had been months since the last rain and the nearest stream was miles away. Your village had long since lost hope, abandoning their faith in the gods. But not you. You knew they were up there. You believed they would help.

While everyone else assumed the drought would eventually end, as it had before, you couldn’t wait. Your brother was so young; he might not survive much longer. Water was life and without it survival was impossible.

“Hey, Ren.” You forced a smile for your brother. His face was flushed, and his clothes were tattered. “Come on, you need to drink this.”

Ren coughed, struggling to sit up. “Y/n, you’re back.”

“Yeah.” You brought the bowl closer to his lips, urging him to drink. He sipped weakly. “How have you been feeling?”

“I feel really hot.” You felt his forehead and sighed when you felt it even warmer than before. The fever he had was burning through his body. Ren wrapped his arms around your waist, clinging on you tightly. “Y/n you won’t leave me will you? Not like mum and dad.”

Brushing his hair out of his eyes, you felt your heart break a little. “Of course I won’t leave you. You’re gonna be stuck with me for the rest of your life, promise.” He grinned, giggling. There’s a small bit of you that wished that this would end soon but you knew better. 

“I love you Y/n.” Ren mumbled, eyes fluttering shut.

“Love you too Ren.” 

You were shaken awake and you nearly screamed when you caught sight of a beautiful face in front of you. His jaw was perfectly chiselled and his lips were plump, kissable almost. You felt your cheeks flushed. His eyes were what captured you most of all. Sapphire swirls painted his eyes, you felt yourself being pulled towards him. 

“You mortals really do sleep like - what’s the saying? Oh yes - like the dead.” His sneer transformed his handsome features into something far more menacing. “Don’t you know it’s disrespectful to spend the night at a temple?”

“I-I’m sorry, I must have fallen asleep by accident.” You tried to move away but it was like an invisible force was keeping you from moving your limbs. He smirked, crawling closer to you so that you were inches apart. “W-Who are you?”

“Little mortal doesn’t know who I am.” His tongue flicked over his lips. “You’re in my temple, little one.”

"Y-Your temple…" The cogs in your brain turned and you let out a frightened gasp. "Y-You're a God."  

He grinned, a low chuckle escaping his lips. "Smarter than you look. It's Y/n isn't it?" Words failed you and you felt your throat grow dry. He twisted a strand of your hair around his finger. "You've been praying for a heavy rain season for weeks. How could I not remember your name." 

"Does that mean you'll help me?" 

"I'm afraid the weather is in my brother's domain. I control the oceans, mortal." 

"I know who you are, Satoru Gojo, God of the oceans and earthquakes. Your brother controls the sky and its weather." You said meekly, feeling your cheeks burn at how close he was. The tapestries had always depicted him as a handsome man with bulging muscles. But something about seeing him in real life had you so enamoured. 

Satoru smirked, the blue in his eyes growing even brighter. His body glowed with a soft, golden aura. You gulped, unable to meet his gaze. "And yet you knew that, but still came to pray to me every day, making sacrifices as well."

"W-Well they say you're the most generous s-so I thought…"

"You thought I would help you?" Satoru cocked his head to the side. "Don't you know everything comes with a price?" 

"And I'm willing to pay that price." 

A silent pause passed between the two of you before a smirk crept up on Satoru’s face. You noticed his eyes grow darker, the bright pigment transformed into a much more seductive hue.

“My, my, little mortal’s brave.” You felt his eyes trailing over your body and you felt like you’re being hunted. “So you’ll do anything?” His fingers brushed over your thigh teasingly. You nodded. 

A wicked grin spread across his face. You squeaked in surprise when his mouth collided onto yours. The intoxicating scent of the ocean filled your senses and your eyes fluttered shut. Satoru’s lips moved ferociously against yours, it made you feel dizzy yet they tasted sweet at the same time. You could taste the sugary taste of leftover ambrosia as he delved into your wet cavern, tongue exploring each and every crevice. 

Your arms remained by your side, unsure of what to do. But when Satoru tugged you forward, they wrapped around him tightly, and you felt him smirk. Your hands wandered over his rippling muscles, trying to carve the feeling into your memory. He bit down on your bottom lip, drawing the slightest bit of blood.

The taste of your own blood mingled with the sweetness of ambrosia, created a heady mixture that made you gasp. Satoru pulled back slightly, his breath hot against your skin. "Everything comes with a price, little one." He murmured, his voice a velvety whisper. "Are you sure you're willing to pay it?"

You nodded, breathless and trembling. "Anything, just please help us."

Satoru's grin widened, his eyes gleaming with a mixture of amusement and something darker. "Very well, mortal. But remember, once a deal is struck with a god, there's no going back."

His fingers traced patterns on your skin, sending shivers down your spine. "You'll belong to me," he whispered, his lips brushing against your ear. "Body and soul."

You felt yourself growing hot as he ravaged your mouth, a soft growl emitting from his throat. You weren’t familiar with his actions, you had never been bedded, too busy tending to your sick brother. The people had called you many names but you didn't care. But now, with your minimal experience, you were nervous, scared even at the thought of a God deflowering you. Nevertheless, you started to grow wet, your pussy started to stick to the thin piece of cloth that covered you. 

Satoru pulled away yet again, a single strand of salvia connected the both of you as he awaited your answer. You panted, out of breath and slightly intoxicated from just the sense of him. 

“Do you accept?” His voice was deep and sultry, something about him was so deliciously seductive that you couldn't help the way your thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

"I accept." 

Satoru's eyes flashed with satisfaction. "Good. Then let our pact be sealed." He captured your lips again, this time more possessively, his hands roaming your body with a newfound intensity. You let out a moan as his tongue slithered back into your mouth. 

He sunk two fingers into your folds making you whimper at the stretch. Your hands gripped his biceps, nails digging down. Satoru licked his lips, continuing to pump into you, gradually increasing the pace. The lewd noises that filled your ears made a blush rise to your cheeks. Never in your life have you felt so dirty, so shameless.

"You're dripping, my sweet. Who would've thought you'd be this turned on." His tone was laced with unmistakable lust and hunger. "Been watching you for so long. Couldn't wait any longer to be inside you." He growled, fucking into you faster, drawing louder moans out of you. 

"S-Satoru…" You gasped as he plunged another digit into you, manoeuvring his fingers so he hit all the right spots. "I-I…"

He stared at your core, your juices all over. For a second he slowed down, giving you a chance to breathe and relax before he picked up the pace. Curling his fingers, touching your sweet sensitive spots in your velvet walls. His thumb rubbed your clit, playing with your sensitive nub. A tight hot rope seemed to wrap around your stomach as Satoru continued to fuck you harder. He smirked as your walls squeezed his fingers. You let out a gasp when he touches a particular spot within you. 

"Close my sweet?" He whispered, lips brushing against your ear and it sent you closer to your high. All you could do is nod fervently, the twisting feeling wrapping around your stomach tightened. You mewled as he fucked you faster, adding another digit. “You can’t cum just yet, got to make sure you’re ready for my cock.” He hummed.

You clenched around his fingers once more, tears pricked your eyes as you threw your head back at the pleasure you were receiving. Satoru surged forward, capturing your lips in a heated kiss. He swallowed your moans and whimpers. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving soft open-mouthed kisses in his wake. Your noises were like music to his ears as he drank in every moan, whimper, mewl - the breathy gasps and the lewd pants. 

“You know my sweet, there’s something that I love about being a God.” 

You gazed at him through your lashes, his lips curling up into a devilish smirk. An ice cube appeared in his hand. You weren’t sure what to think until he slid it up and down your hot wet folds, then you were gasping at the coldness that hit your core. There was a rush of newfound delight that filled you up and you were rutting your hips, asking for more.

Satoru simply grinned, pushing the cube of ice further inside you watching your reactions bloom in front of him. His fingers were dripping with both water and your arousal. You let out a soft hiss when the ice cube is pressed harder into you. The coldness contrasted with the warmness of your needy walls. It spiked through your body as it made your blood rise and your head became light at the overwhelming feeling. You were clutching onto Satoru with so much force that it would hurt him but he didn’t care, not when he was in the midst of unravelling you.

“Let’s see how many you can hold.” It shocked you into a frenzy when you felt another ice cube get pushed inside you, the last one still slowly melting. 

“Mmmph. Too much, ngh, feels weird, ‘s too much.” Your mind seemed to explode as you babbled incoherently. “F-fuckkk ‘toru it’s cold a-and-“

You were unable to finish your sentence as Satoru reached out his hands to pinch your clit causing you to jolt forward at the sudden gesture. You felt a rush as you gazed up at him. watching his smirk grow as he looked at your sopping pussy. 

“You’re so beautiful!” He teased your folds, rubbing against them harsher. “Take more for me okay? You’re such a good girl, my sweet, keep that dirty pussy dripping as I stuff you, okay?” Satoru’s lips brushed your ear. “Then I’ll let you cum.”

You felt yourself spiralling into euphoria when he slid his finger down your pussy. His tongue flicked over his lips as he admired your fucked out face. Morals left your body and you let your urges take over. All reason and thought left you as you were reduced to a whining needy mess. Your pussy clenched pathetically around the ice cubes, the cold still surprising you. Satoru did nothing but coo at you, tucking strands of loose hair behind your ear.

“Come on my sweet.” He urged. “You're doing so well. This pussy is so pretty, she’s just so gorgeous, fuckkk, wish you could see her.”

“A-Ah, ‘toru good f-feels so g-good.” 

You were writhing beneath his grip, a feeling of overwhelming pleasure surged through you as he continued his actions. Your pussy constricted around his fingers and you felt something grow within you. Your nerves and senses were heightened as you felt his fingers nudge at your swollen clit. 

“I-I feel somethingg, ngh, f-feels weird like I’m gonna burst-” You gasped out, unable to keep the noises within you.

“Awwww.” Satoru’s tone was mocking as he watched your tiny frame twist and turn under his grip. A wicked grin spread across his face. “You’re close, my sweet, beg to cum and maybe I’ll be nice enough to let you.” 

It was almost painful but the pleasure was so uncontrollable that it overtook any pain you felt. Satoru slid another freezing ice cube into you, making you scream. Your mind was dizzy and you could only feel yourself getting stretched repeatedly with the cold object. Your pussy walls were both cold and hot, the mixture that Satoru had concocted dripping from them. Sweat covered your body, glistening as the sun shone down. You felt like you were on the verge of collapsing, so desperate for an unknown pleasure to come to your saviour.

“S-Satoru...cum, p-please. W-Wanna cum…” You stuttered helplessly, silently shrieking at the contrast of temperatures.

“More, beg more.”

You screamed at the feeling as his fingers thrusted in you making your head light as you desperately gripped onto his shoulders, clawing at some sort of way to tether you to the present. His words were laced with seduction as he continued to tease you.

“C-Cum cum cum, please pleaseee, needa cum so b-bad ‘toru fuckkk! P-Please let me cum, ‘s too much need it s-so bad, please please please!”

Satoru laughed as he buried his head in your neck, placing kisses on the empty space. He loved your desperate pleas, the breathy moans that would fill the gaps and the tears that followed as you begged him for something you had never experienced before.

“You’ve been such a good girl.” He purred, his deep voice making you clench around him. “And good girls deserve to cum. Go on my sweet, let it all out on my fingers, make a mess of this pussy.” 

You felt a wave of ecstasy rush over you as he pressed his fingers down, biting into your neck. Your body shook at the sensation that overcame you. You rocked against Satoru as you felt your pussy squeeze and constrict. A newfound feeling gushed from within you and you felt yourself scream at the pleasure. Your mind was reduced to filth as you moaned, the ringlets of your release jolting through your body. Satoru groaned at the way your cum coated his fingers and he stared at your desperate cunt, watching the aftermath of the mess you had just created. You didn’t know what to think, your mind cloudy and confused. 

“You fucking squirted, dirty fucking girl.” His eyes were transfixed and suddenly you felt embarrassed at the wetness between your thighs. He reached his hands out forcing you to stay open for him, exposing your most private part for him to ogle at. “Who knew this cute little pussy was capable of such filthy things. You’re just a whore in disguise aren’t you?”

Your pathetic mewls convinced him of nothing. Satoru stared in wonder at your pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. He slid his fingers in his mouth, tasting every bit of you. A low moan was heard before he dived down licking up your mess. Still sensitive, you cried in shock, threading your hands through his hair. He sucked harshly at your sensitive bud, lapping at your juices. The feeling made tears bleed from your eyes and you tug on his wispy locks. 

“Like it, my sweet?” His voice sent tingles down your spine and you held back the urge to scream. “Can’t hear you?”

“L-Like it so much ‘toru…” You let out a shaky breath, beads of your tears clinging onto your lashes. “P-Please…”

He lapped at your cunt greedily, swallowing every single drop. Your arousal dripped from his chin with a mixture of his salvia. His ears were blessed at the loud squelch that would emit from between your legs. Everything was so messy but he didn’t care as he continued to play with your pretty cunt. You could only whine and quiver at the feeling. Your legs shook, still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Blissful thoughts whizzed by as he kept you locked in an euphoric sensation. You struggled to not cry out and sob when white dots blurred your vision. 

Satoru flicked his tongue against your engorged clit, plunging the wet muscle inside. His mouth was hot and you felt his tongue circle your swollen clit messily while you stuttered out pleading moans. He pried open your thighs, desperate to access deeper into the precious new heaven he had discovered. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head at the overstimulation, finding it hard to focus on anything as your senses overloaded. Your mouth hung open as sweet whines constantly fell from your lips. All you could do was lie there letting Satoru ravage your pussy like a man dying of thirst.

“C-Close, close so so so close!” You gasped when you felt him release with a pop before diving back down to continue to suck. “Too much, ‘toru ‘s too much, feels t-too goodddd…”

It wasn’t long before you were cumming again. Another round of your wet arousal coating his face and he licked it clean. You were drooling now, salvia running down your chin as you felt the tears run down your face. It was too much and you feel yourself fall into a new world of pure pleasure. You could feel Satoru’s lustful grin against you as he sucked your pussy. Your thighs shook, chest heaving up and down. Despite the fact you had just released it never stopped the god from indulging you in his carnal desire.

"Sweet little Y/n." He cooed as his thumb ghosted circles around your puffy clit. “Think you’re ready for my cock?” 

It was a question that didn’t need an answer but you still nodded your head lifelessly. Your body was limp in his grip and you struggled to hold yourself up, relying only on him. Satoru smirked from above you, pushing you down on the marble floor. His hands were big and warm and the simple touch had heat blossoming at your pussy. You barely registered what was happening until you had your hands tied together. A thin golden cord wrapped around your wrists and Satoru bit his lip. You looked so beautiful, so pretty, so submissive. 

“I like you this way my sweet. All tied up and ready to be used.” He frowned and you panicked, scared you had angered him. He snapped his fingers and you found a piece of cloth in your mouth, stopping you from speaking. “That’s better, as much as I love your noises I find this much more appealing.”

Your eyes widened when he reached down to release his cock from its confines. You had never seen something so big and dare you say pretty. Satoru’s cock was red and flushed, pre cum oozing out of the swollen tip, dripping like pearls as they rolled down his fat cock head. You felt yourself drool at the sight and you didn’t think you would want something in your mouth so bad. He grinned smugly at your reaction, knowing you were unable to say anything as you stared transfixed at the sight before you.

“Don’t worry my sweet, I’ll make sure to make you feel so good. I know how much this pussy loves to be filled up.”

The words are dirty yet you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whine as he picked you up. His tip pushed past your folds, nudging into your pussy hole. You shut your eyes letting yourself feel the stretch that he gave you. His cock was so big and every bit of your body felt like it was on fire as he continued to push inside. He paused letting you adjust, whispering into your ear quietly. Filthy praises that only made you drip and mewl. It felt like magic and you whimpered into your gag helplessly. Satoru’s fingers brushed through your hair and he peppered sweet kisses across your face. 

It was like your world had imploded as he thrusted into you. Nothing else mattered as you moaned and squirmed at his touch. Your senses went into overdrive as he quickened his thrusts. He pumped in and out of you. He filled every crevice of your sex. His pace never slowed even as you felt all the energy leave your body. You screamed into the gag when he hit that particular spot that had you keeling. You felt your eyes roll to the back of your head and you gasped for air through the gag. 

“Fuckkk you’re so tight, such a slutty virgin pussy. Look at how you’re gripping on my cock my sweet, she’s so loud.”

His words only made you keen with desire as you gave in to the carnal temptation that bloomed within you. 

“Mmmmph!” Your moans grew louder with every harsh thrust as his cock touched every part of your gummy walls. “Ah-Ah-Ah! ‘toruuuu!”

Satoru showed no mercy as he pounded into you. Cock plunging in and out of your pussy. Wet noises echoed through the walls of the temple and a small part of you felt bad for doing this, here of all places. It was inappropriate but it felt so good. Too good even. He continued his movements and the binds that once bound you vanished and you assumed that this was a sign that Satoru wanted you to touch him so you obeyed. Your fingers dragged down his back, sure to leave marks. Fingers fluttered from place to place, desperate for something to anchor you.

“You look so beautiful, pussy sucking in my big cock. Such a good girl for me.” He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear. Everything he did felt amazing. “Moan for me my sweet, go on let me hear those filthy sounds.” 

You obeyed his command letting the lewd sounds tumble from your lips as you gasped for more. Your hands roamed the vast expanse of his body, the taut muscles that lay under your hands, each touch ignited sparks. His grip on you tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp again. Every brush of his lip, every stroke of his tongue, every bite and nibble was a reminder of his power and you couldn’t help but give in completely. 

The vigor that he fucked you with was compared to no man and you couldn’t help the lustful sounds that escaped your lips as his hips snapped to yours. It made your mind reel with the feeling of pleasure. His hair fell into his eyes and you reached your hands to sweep through his locks. Satoru was so handsome. He was a god after all and you couldn’t help that your heart pounded whenever you looked at him.

You felt your orgasm approach and you clenched your hands around his toned biceps, nails digging into his skin and he hissed. You moaned repeatedly into the gag as your body shook frantically from the pleasure. 

“A-A-Ahhh! ‘toru ‘toru ‘s too much, nghh.” Your body thrashed in his grasp, wriggling and writhing as you felt the immense feeling build up again. Every movement magnified the intensity as you felt the shock ricochet throughout your body. 

“It’s okay my sweet.” Satoru whispered but his thrusts were unrelenting. His fingers brushed against your clit, circling the bundle of nerves as he drew out your orgasm. “It’s okay, let's cum together. Soak my cock Y/n, such a good girl.”

Your juices overflowed and you felt his cum pump into your body, filling you up until you were so so full. Warmth blossomed throughout your body and you felt yourself wringing his cock with every drop of cum. The feeling was incomparable and you gasped for air once he removed the gag with the snap of his fingers. Satoru kissed you, his lips were demanding, moving against yours with raw hunger. The taste of the ocean filled your senses, salty and intoxicating. He pulled out to place a kiss on your thighs, on your pussy. You were so sensitive and you felt his cum as it flowed out of you. He stuffed two fingers in your pussy and you squealed at the sudden gesture. His fingers curled in and out of you before he slapped your core. The sting sent shock waves through your body and you couldn’t help the moan that tumbled out of your lips.

“Keep it in there my sweet, I’ll be visiting again.” His voice was a husky whisper, deep and seductive. 

Then, with those words, he disappeared, leaving you a naked mess on the temple floor. You were breathless and reeling from the pleasure that he had just bestowed upon you. You had just given yourself to a god, one that had just stuffed you so full of his cum. You stared at the place where he had been in shock, your head felt light from all that had just happened. Your legs gave way when you tried to stand up, they were sore and achy, covered in splatters of both of your cum. His smirks and groans filled your senses once again and you felt yourself flush at the memory. 

Satoru Gojo had just introduced a lustful desire that you didn’t think you would be able to forget for a very long time.

You gathered your belongings with shaking hands, urgently attempting to steady yourself as you stood. The wet splashes that painted your body were a stark reminder of what had just happened, and you tried your hardest to conceal them along with your flushed, fucked-out face.

You hobbled your way back to the village, heart pounding in your chest. Every glance from a passerby felt like they could see right through you. The sheer thought that someone would stop to talk to you had you eager to get home unnoticed.

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru was watching from Olympus, his eyes never leaving your retreating form. He grinned, a sense of satisfaction washing over him as he saw your tiny self hurry home. The memory of your trembling body and flushed cheeks was seared into his mind and he felt his cock harden again at the thought. He knew you were thinking of him, longing for him, and that was exactly what he wanted. When the time was right, he would come for you again, and induce you in a pleasurable haze once more.

[makelemonade]

Test Subject

Characters; Dottore x Female!Reader

pt2

Warnings; 18+, insane probably horribly written smut, aphrodisiacs, non-consensual drugging, you're married to each other, slut-shaming tbh, degrading + slight praise, boob play, bondage, blowjobs, lots of mentions of cum, you're literally his test subject- hence the title, he has a fat cock, subtle ahegao, hentai moaning, fingering, several positions, overstimulation, rough sex, dumbification, oral sex, honestly idek what else just lemme know if i need to put something

Il Dottore was a hard working man; Always doing whatever he can to please his majesty, the Tsaritsa, and always helping out- even if it’s not by his own will- his coworkers.

But he’ll always work the hardest for you- his lovely wife.

He was working on some sort of machine down in his lab, and in full honesty, you were too hungry enough to ask what it was.

Well, you weren’t insanely hungry, but you were parched, and it’s not like you could go around and get food somewhere; You barely knew this castle and you were scared to run into one of the other Harbingers.

Hmm, maybe you could risk it- Childe could’ve been around somewhere and could’ve gotten you some water.

“What’s on your mind, dear?” Dottore asks, still looking down at his…project. He knew you so well. He 

“I’m quite thirsty, my love.” You admit, sheepishly. 

A smirk appears on Dottore’s face as he finally looks away from his project and at you; You were sitting on a steel table- almost like the ones for surgery- dangling your legs.

“I actually have a few drinks down here.”

He walked over to a shelf full of vials, some were full and some were empty. He scanned it for about a minute, until he made a noise, indicating he found what he was looking for. He grabbed two vials, walking back to you.

Handing them to you, you looked at them with hesitance. It was a light pink, but it didn’t look dangerous. It wasn’t bubbling, or smoking. It seemed like water but with food-colouring.

“It’s a sweet drink.” There was something behind his devilish smirk, and you couldn’t read it, but you trusted your husband and chugged both vials.

He just smiled. “Good girl,”

As much as you loved the praise, you were slightly confused, but decided to just let him continue working.

However, in the next few minutes, you noticed that you began too sweat. It was weird, given the fact this laboratory was insanely cold.

You took off your blanket, throwing it to the side, but that did not help, as in the next few minutes, you began to become hotter, to the point you were panting as if you were running a marathon.

You didn’t notice the subtle writing Dottore was doing in his book, and in the next few minutes, you found yourself becoming faint as you started to feel yourself completely aroused to the point it was seeping through your tight clothing.

You were letting out shaky breaths, everything being too hot for you and you laid back onto the steel, the cold table bringing you comfort for about a minute until it was too hot for you.

Your vision slightly blurry, you noticed Dottore now standing above you, his project long forgotten as you were now his new project. 

“Dottore..” You breathed out, and he just smirked down at you before reaching under the table; There were straps under it, and you realized what was happening when one went around your waist.

“Dottore,” You breathed out again. “Did you- did you drug me?!” You panted, and he just laughed. 

“I’ve been meaning to test the aphrodisiac out for a while now. I just needed a perfect time to use it on you.” 

He started to unbutton your shirt and you whined, the touches of his cold fingers on your stomach making you heat up even more somehow.

He took your blouse off and you let out a whimper- he made sure to write that down too.

He reached around to your back, not lifting you up much due to the strap holding you down onto the table. With his might, he yanked at your bra, ripping the back completely and you gasped.

“I’ll buy you a new one.” He laughed, throwing the ripped bra to the floor. 

He unbuckled himself, but made no move to take off his pants. Instead he pushed your arms all the way up and you felt too weak to stop him, letting him tie your hands with his belt. 

In seconds, your pants and panties were off- You don’t even know how, but the drug was making everything seem so fast, but at the same time too slow.

You tried to do anything to help your arousal, and even started humping the air but it was helpless with the strap holding you down. Dottore laughed at your attempts.

“You’re so needy, my love. Be patient, dear, I’ll attend to you soon. I just need to see how you react.”

He placed a hand down on your stomach and you gasped, starting to twitch. His other hand started scribbling down in his book as he moved his hand around, and the heat became unbearable once he reached your chest.

“‘Tore,” You whined, then a sharp gasp came out of you as he placed his index and thumb around your hard nipple, starting to pull.

“Nghh-oh!” His mouth moved down, starting to suck on the other one and you started to thrash, but the table could only wobble slightly as you were held down tightly.

“So sensitive,” He breathed out, the breath making your nipple twitch and you whimpered. He started to go a little harsher, his teeth grazingg over your nipple as the only started to twist and pull.

“Oh! Dottore!” You gasped, moaning loudly as he kept up at it and yet somehow his other hand was still scribbling stuff down- how he did it? You had no idea.

You whined when his mouth and fingers left and he spread your legs open a little, the cold air bringing little relief to your seeping pussy. 

“I wouldn’t even be surprised if you almost came from that,” He chuckled, taking a closer to look to see your arousal was now a pool pouring onto the desk, slowly dripping off the sides.

“Let’s see how you beg.” 

You were about to ask what he meant, but let out a loud gasp when his finger to prod at your hole and you moaned, despite the fact he was barely touching it.

He was teasing you, touching you everywhere down there but refusing to finger you.

“Do-dottore,” You whined, trying to thrust your hips towards his fingers but you could hardly move.

“How does It feel, baby?”

“So- so sensitive.” You whined, “I need you.”

He groaned at that, fingers inching a bit closer. “Yeah? How bad?”

“S-so bad..” You slurred, becoming drunk on just his fingers, “need to feel your t-thick fingers..”

You screamed when he plunged two into you, wincing at the pain but moaning at the relief. He slowly began to scissor you, and his fingers were sooo long they reached you so deep.

“Oh-! Nghh, please, pleasepleaseplease”

“Please what?” He chuckled breathlessly. “M-move faster please..”

He grinned, shoving his fingers even deeper as he started to go faster, stretching you wide and you moaned loudly when he added a third finger in.

“FUCK!” You gasped, “fuckfuckfuckfuck!” He started to practically pound you with his fingers once he added a fourth one in, and you found yourself cumming in one minute with a wail, but he didn’t stop.

“T-tore!” You whined, “too-too much!”

But he didn’t stop, instead going faster, and you were thrashing around so much he had to stop writing down stuff with his other hand to hold your waist down, despite the fact you were tied down already.

“DOTTORE! DOTTORE!” You screamed, feeling yourself cum once again; This time, your arousal squirting everywhere to the point it reached his face, spread onto your paper and was on the ground.

He didn’t let his fingers out until you finished, and you let out a wanton moan when his fingers left you.

“Your pussy is gaping over nothing,” The way he spoke sent shivers down your spine. “Dirty slut, squirting over my fingers? My, what a mess you made!”

You panted, feeling absolutely out of it just from squirting, but you needed more. So much more to get rid of this heat.

You heard shuffling, then steps as he walked towards the side of the table to your face. 

He grabbed your head, moving it to the side and you were met to his long, girthy cock that was leaking precum just inches away from your face.

You found yourself sticking your tongue out, reaching to lick the tip and he groaned. “You look like a dog,” He laughed breathlessly, looking at the way your tongue was all the way out, panting. 

“Little bitch in heat,” He spat, “C’mon, suck. Suck like the good slut you are,”

You wasted no time in wrapping your mouth around his dick, struggling in trying to move your head up and down- It was hard when you were tied to a table.

“Insufficient,” He scoffed, but really it was an excuse to loosen the strap to help you move closer to the side of the table. He grabbed the back of your head, shoving you down as you let out a yelp. 

Your nose was right against his pelvis and you started to gag while he just let you sit there and struggle. He let out a groan, then a sigh of content.

He started to move your head up and down, dragging and pulling on your hair. You looked up at him, eyes rolling back as you continued to gag on the Doctors thick cock.

“I love it when you do that,” He panted. “You look so fucking- uh! Sexy…” He started to go faster. “Cockdrunk whore.”

You just moaned at the title and he laughed, “you love it when I degrade you, don’t you? You know, I’m debating on if I want to come in your mouth or all over your face, even when I rail you too.” 

You were becoming dizzy with how fast he was moving you, your throat becoming sore as tears rolled down your cheeks. 

He took another look down at you. “Maybe all over you. I’ll make it a masterpiece.” 

He took his dick out and you gasped, but only to be met with his hot, salty cum all over your face. Dottore not being a human sometimes had it’s perks, because he produced so much more “cum” then anyone as it even reached your chest.

He panted, standing there for a bit. Then, he walked away, and came back holding up a kamera. “Say cheese,”

You were too fucked out of it to react, flinching at the light it produced. He looked at the picture through the lenses and smirked. “I’ll be keeping this one.”

He moved back to his book, writing some more stuff down. He did so quickly, wanted to move onto the fourth and last phase of his project.

He got rid of the strap completely, and you thought it was over- but no, instead he grabbed your hips, dragging you across the table all the way to the end so your bottom half was completely off, your legs over his shoulders.

You gasped at the feeling of his dick prodding at your entrance. “Nghh- Dottore! I’m still s-sensitive!”

He didn’t care, instead pushing his cock all the way in- It stretched you out even more then his fingers and reached places they couldn’t and you wailed.

He didn’t even go slow, instead deciding to go straight into it and fuck you fast and rough. “F-fuck…” He gasped, “You’re so tight, my love. You feel so good, like you were made for me? Wouldn’t you agree? Agree with me, my cocksleeve

“Y-yes!! I-i’m just-nghh- perfect for YOU! Yooourrr cockslEEVE! YOURS!” You screamed as he went even harder, and you felt like you were gonna cum once again.

He could feel it too when you started to tighten, and you screamed when he pushed down onto your stomach. “I-I’ve decided,” He paused to give you a harsh thrust, “That I’ll cum so much, in you and on you.” He laughed, and you came with a scream.

“F-fuckuuhuh! No-no more!”

“Yes more.” He laughed, not stopping. “We have so many more rounds to go, sweetheart. Don’t you wanna be filled up with my cum? Bred? And painted with it too,”

“Y-yes! Yes! Fill me up…fill me up! Please!”

He pulled you closer, instead now moving your legs towards your chest to reach even deeper into you. “NgHH~ oh~ fuck! Y-yes, yes!”

The next hour went by through several different positions; Full nelson, standing full nelson, doggy style, whatever he wanted to take you in! He’d take turns cumming in you and pulling out, and by the end, you were completely passed out, cum all over you and cum pouring out, dripping onto the ground.

He draped your past blanket over you, deciding he’d attend to you in just a minute. He finished writing down his analysis, reading it out loud.

“Subject came a total of 12 times and squirted for 3. Next goal will be 15 and 10; Maybe Pantalone can help out with it.”

[graphedpaper]

Renter Problems 4

yandere!celebrity x fem!reader

Synopsis: Your once childhood nuisance turned celebrity, turned aggressor, is advancing further and further into his delusions, pushing past your boundaries in any way he sees fit. He won't even let you shower by yourself or get a cup of water to quench your dry throat. Just how much of your autonomy is he going to invade, and why is he doing this? Details: Verbal abuse, NSFW, manipulation, fem reader, kidnapping, non-con, masturbation, delusional thinking Warning: NSFW, Non-Con

The warm late morning sunlight glows on your face as you rustle up from your slumber. Your eyelids drudge open, and you blink a couple of times to wake yourself. You slowly sit up using your tied arms, your elbows digging into the biggest mattress you've ever seen. 

The first thought that comes into your hazy mind is the sore hunger pains coming from your empty stomach. You look down at yourself. You're still wearing your top and pants from almost 2 or 3 days ago, and you're not sure what day it is exactly.

And when you hear heavy footsteps nearing the bedroom door you immediately remember what happened yesterday and the tenseness returns, making your whole body sore. You try not to dwell on it, but you remember where you are now fully and completely.

You need to escape. 

As the tall, smooth white panel door opens inwards you slump back down into bed. You don't have the energy to stay on guard, and you're past starving. Everything feels light, especially your limbs, yet they also simultaneously feel tied down by ten ton weights.

"Hey, did you sleep well?" He asks walking towards you with a cup of hot tea. Good, you were parched. 

You manage to croak out a 'yes' and he sits beside you, placing down the beverage to help you up. He strokes your hair as he picks the mug back up with his right hand. You reach for it, bracing for the hot ceramic to touch your palms, but instead, Jacob brings it to his lips, leaving you dumbfounded at his blatant selfishness.

"Oh, you wanted it?" He asks, with a dumbfounded look on his face. 

You stare blankly at him back.

'Oh, no Jacob, it's fine, I don't want something to drink after being starved and kidnapped for days.'  You think, sarcastic and bitter. Yes, you did want the fucking tea after he threw you around, threatened to cut your finger and neck, and came in your mouth. 

"Of course my pretty girl can share with me." He adds sweetly. So sweetly in fact, it makes you question if what happened yesterday truly happened. What was going on? Were you being kidnapped? He hands you the steaming drink and with awkward T-rex arms you manage to lift the cup to your dry lips and take a few sips. The restraints on your wrist... It's awkward, it's janky, it's uncomfortable. The metal cuffs keep cutting into your skin and you can barely do anything.

"Jacob-" You start, attempting to ask him to unlock the handcuffs.

He shoots you a look. A 'don't say it and ruin the mood' look. It sends you a gut-tossing chill, muting whatever you were going to ask him to do.

" Babe, I found this great brunch place for us to try. You must be starving huh?" He quickly jumps to a different subject, before you even have a chance to ask him to take the handcuffs off of you, or let that dangerous stare of his sink in.

Brunch? Like as in a restaurant in public? Somewhere you could get help? Your scheming begins and your heartbeat rises at the chance of being saved.

"I was so worried, because you haven't eaten in a while."

Jacob can see it on your face and he can see it in your eyes. That flash of determination that he hated throughout childhood. The cancer that was infecting this pure love, it had to be cut out and blazed. He could almost hear you plotting your escape from the relationship.

"I ordered it to go, it'll be here soon." He tells He announces to you.

"Oh." You say in crestfallen hopelessness. Your stomach growls.

"I hope this can count as our new start." He adds on.

You try to hide your desperation from his observant eyes as your chance of escaping seems to start withering away. Perhaps focus on something else?

You look into his golden eyes. Today he's wearing a soft-looking grey long-sleeve and loose-fitting cargos. His silver watch on his left hand had been making a ticking sound this whole time, and you hadn't noticed in your narrow-sighted distress. He had clean clothes and a lovely shiny watch, while your hair was a mess, your clothes old.

"What can I wear? Can I take a shower?" You ask him abruptly. You didn't feel like a human anymore, you felt more like an animal. You needed to get away from him, at least temporarily. He scared you, his weird switches in behaviour, from doting to violent.

"I'll give you a bath, and your old clothes are in the other closet." He responds smiling.

Oh god, please, god if you're real don't allow him to give me a bath, please god.

"Jacob, please, just let me shower on my own." You beg. He hadn't seen you naked yet, and it was one of the last dignities you could hold on to. 

"You're too weak, now stop it." He snaps, annoyance flashing his face. 

And you do, you shut up like the helpless prey you are. And now he'll to see you stripped and all, his hands over your bare body-

'You're not a helpless prey,' you think to yourself. 'Don't ever think like that, especially not in a situation like this.' Didn't you know this well enough? For humans, morale was the most important thing in survival, it didn't matter if the heart was beating or not, first and foremost it was mind had to stay alive.

You blink back tears and slide yourself off the bed, following him to the washroom. He sees it, and perhaps he feels pity for your pathetic form, because he tells you to give him your hands. Hesitantly, you place your restrained hands in his, unsure what he'll do. You wait for him to reach into his left pocket, where he brings out a small flat key, which he uses to unlock your handcuffs.

So that's where he keeps the keys to the handcuff.

You shake out your wrists, free from the restraints and you feel- so light. You try not to look too hard at the red cuts and marks around them from the prolonged use, they give you mind-numbingly painful reminders of the terror you're facing.

"I'll put some ointment on it, okay?" He says, gently, while hovering his fingers above the injuries. 

He leads you across his wide bedroom to his bathroom. It's like another room on its own, grand with marble, and a great bathtub overlooking the view of the vast backyard pool. 

He turns the faucet of the sleek bathtub, as the water rushes down and echoes the room with the sound of falling splashes hitting porcelain. 

You stand near him, not daring to move an inch without the weight of your cuffs. He turns back to you and starts to pull your shirt off. You reluctantly lift your arms up to help him and you quickly cover yourself. You cross your arms over your bare chest and avoid Jacob's burning stare at you. To Jacob, you were overreacting. Why were you so insistent on acting innocent and shy in a relationship? What's the big deal seeing his girlfriend's tits? For fuck's sake, you'd already sucked him off, hadn't you?

You try to take yourself out of this experience while he pulls your pants down, leaving you down to your underwear. You knew this was his motive, but you can almost hear his arousal. The hot, buzzing excitement, disguised as a caring gesture revolts you. He wasn't really washing you out of concern of you being 'too weak', he just wanted to control you and see you naked.

"I can do it!" You exclaim, breaking the silent tension. His fingers linger on the waistband of your underwear. You don't dare to push his hands off of you, but you do step away from his touch.

Jacob brushes his loose hair back with his hand and sighs. 

"Babe, please, let's not fight over this, let me take care of you." He says, seemingly exasperated.

He pinches the elastic of your underwear and slowly pulls it down in not very well concealed anticipation. It's a light pink pantie with a small ribbon, you probably got it as a value set from a cheap store. If it was up to you, you wouldn't have to wear this juvenile shit anymore, you'd wear something... tinier. Lacier.

He holds his breath in excitement and when the last piece of your self-preserved dignity on you falls in a pile to your feet he takes a good look. Quick, but a good look nonetheless. That was a mistake though, because now he's harder than steel. He desperately wants to push you against the wall. Hear your heart start to beat faster as your arousal drips between your legs. 

He won't do it now, don't worry, you're too weak at the moment. He may get excited at times, but he's no rapist. Instead, he lifts you up onto the sinktop. Dipping his finger into a small pot, he gathers a dollop of clear gel. As he starts to apply the cool gel on your sore wrists, an herbal smell invades your nose. You try to observe him, see if he feels guilt that these injuries were from him. But he remains seemingly unfazed and without shame, as if these cuts appeared from nowhere.

"Shouldn't you apply it after the wash?" You ask. 

"Oh, right." He says, laughing. 

You force yourself to crack a smile. Jacob wipes the gel off his fingers.

"It's fine, we can apply it before and after, anything for you." Jacob tells you.

Jacob can't help but feel hopeful. It seemed like you were already warming up to him. Of course, right now, maybe you were just faking it, but soon, it would become habit, then it would become a part of you. Then, it would be you, truly you. You would love him, laughing by his side, whether in bed or on the red carpet. No one could deny it, could they? You wanted to drink the tea from the cup he drank from, and you let him help you change out of your clothes, you even smiled at him. Yeah, you were definitely falling for him as well, slowly, but surely. He saw you as a mother of his children, but he could also see you on all fours, being fucked into whenever he wished for. You were so special to him.

The splattering sound of the water quiets down, and the swirling steam rises from the water. 

He uses his right hand to check the temperature, and when he decides it's fine, he comes over to lift you from the waist into bridal position, carefully lowering you into the wide tub, akin to a baptism of a baby. He's gentle and caring, allowing you to adust to the hot water.

 You turn your head to the wide window, and you can see atop the long, large trees, lush green leaves shaking in the gentle breeze. You can almost imagine that warm sunlight smell, the one that saturates the world in richness and sticks on your clothes, the wind blowing your hair. That summer bliss you experienced as a young girl. You didn't deserve this, to be held captive. You deserved to be a teen girl with her friends looking forward to starting college. Jacob's turned his back, reaching into the drawers for soap, or something, and for those few seconds, his distracted self tempts you to escape like honey to an ant. You want so badly to get up and sprint out, but the fear stops you. When he comes back you avert your eyes to the clear water. Jacob smiles. Your bare skin under the slow-moving water ripples, it's distorted but there.

"You like waffles?" He asks suddenly, kneeling down behind your head as he squirts a cool liquid onto your scalp, sending tingles down your spine. He massages it into your hair as a fresh, rosemary scent wafts around you, the aromatic bubbles starting to form into suds. 

"Waffles? They're okay." You reply, uncomfortable at how comfortable you were becoming. Fuck, why was this relaxing? The hot water invaded all your senses and it soothed your tense body.  

"What do you want to eat then?" He asks, his hands working at your wet hair. 

"Anything's fine, I'm starving." You reply

And it's true, you couldn't possibly care if it's a waffle or a pancake. Hell, give the peeled skin of a potato and you just might eat it with the fervor of a child and a chocolate cake.

Jacob bristles at the word 'starving'. It's just how you said it, almost as if you're accusing him of your pain. It's not his fault, it's yours that you couldn't stay up until a few minutes to eat. It's not like he prevented you from eating, so why were you saying it like that? Why were you constantly treating him like that?

"You fell asleep before dinnertime." He states accusively, his voice going from calm to stiff.

"I know." You reply back, sensing his rigid form behind you. 

You don't have to look back to visualize his face, dark twisted eyebrows and a deep, wronged frown. It's best to agree with him in a passive, neutral manner, at least when he's swinging from one emotion to the next. He doesn't feel like a person, he feels like a bomb you must cradle to your chest, one wrong move causing it to detonate and kill you.

There falls a moment of quiet while he rinses the soap from your hair. The only sounds are the gentle splashes of water and scrubbing of soap. He takes a sweet citrus-smelling body wash scrub, washing your arms and torso. He takes his time to wash your legs, and his fingers linger in between your thighs. His fingers brush against your clit and you sit up straighter, alert. 

"You might get an infection if I don't clean it well enough, I've heard about it," He explains.

But it's a lame justification, because you both know what he's actually doing. Infection, my ass. He's at the side of the tub now, still knelt down, and his index finger makes a light circle clockwise on your bud, twice. It may have been a mistake the first time, but now it's intentional. You can't help but gasp in horror. You mentally smack yourself in the face, and pray he doesn't take the gasp as encouragement to continue.

"Jacob," You whisper, turning to his face to look at his expression. 

His eyes stare back at you, a dark greed filling his face.

"Jacob, not right now," You try to tell him again.

"You'll like it, I promise. It'll feel good." He replies, focusing on making tight circles on your clit as you fidget your legs and splash some water over the edge. Your clit swells with a new type of arousal, and you don't know if it's the heat from the water, or something more internal. Jacob enjoys the scene playing out before him, your body contorting to handle the pleasure he's giving to you, while you try to stay still for him. You're so compliant. You contain any sound that might escape, in fear of egging him on to continue further. 

"You wanted this to happen, huh? You asked for a shower? Knowing I wouldn't be able to resist your naked body?" He asks mockingly. He rubs your engorged clit faster, and you clutch the sides of the tub with knuckle-white hands. 

You want to deny his words but a moan slips past your lips as that familiar pressure builds up inside you. You want to scream at him to stop but your mind flashes back to the knife he held to your neck, the needle he used to sedate you. He finds satisfaction in your unravelling, all by him, and he can't help but palm his own arousal underneath his pants. 

"Jacob, too much!" You whimper. 

Oh god, it feels good, but if I come he'll take it as encouragement, oh god, oh no, 

"It's okay, you can come, I know I'm making you feel good, so don't shy away." He tells you sweetly, adoring that flushed look on your face, the warmth that comes from your gratification of his touch. It validates him, to see you lose control like this. All those celebrity bitches were already sluts that were used to sex, but you were simpler to please. He could never let you go, you were the only one he could do this to. He's too distracted by his fantasies of you and him, to notice your orgasm as your legs tremble and your moans become a background as he mindlessly draws more circles on your sensitive clit. How would you react to him proposing? Somewhere public, of course, where everyone could see the love you two shared. What about a sweet baby boy, who could grow up to be another successful actor, just like his dad? After that, a beautiful young girl, that looked just like you and him. She could easily become a model with those looks. 

Your pleas for him to stop over-stimulating your poor self brings him back to ground as he smiles at your exhausted face. 

"Good girl, now let's get you dressed so we can eat." 

-----

You two are sitting down on the sofa to have brunch. Jacob finds it more intimate, and casual, than sitting at the dining table. Besides, the dining table brings back bad memories, don't they? While you're devouring liège waffles with intense speed, Jacob has an egg sandwich. 

"Is it good?" Jacob asks you.

Jacob wishes you'd instigate more conversations. He wants you to thank him for the orgasm, and the food. Throw up some compliments, and smile at him like you did in the washroom. Can't you stop eating for just a minute and talk to him?

"It's good, where'd you get them?" You ask, and you instantly raise an eyebrow at your own tone after you say this. You said it a little too normal for your own liking.

Could you be getting used to this? How could you act so nonchalant in a kidnapping? Was this kidnapping?

"There's this stupid guy I know. He cooks, owns a few restaurants." He responds vaguely.

"Why stupid?" You ask him, noticing the look of distaste on his face.

"He's an heir to the throne of some country, but he put it on pause and now he causes trouble here." Jacob says. He looks agitated just talking about him. 

You're surprised. 

"Really? He turned down the chance to be king?" You prod more, eager for any chance to bring Jacob's guard down. 

"Yeah." He answers curtly.

Jacob sighs and looks back at you enjoying your waffles and he can almost feel a warm happiness filling everything broken inside him, like molten gold. You were the best girlfriend, you made him want to be better.

You can feel his eyes on you.

It's disturbing. 

"Do you have work today?" You ask, avoiding eye contact with him and staring at a painting on the wall.

"No, today's off." He answers, still looking at you, with his arm over the couch in a relaxed manner.

Well, any predator would be relaxed when faced with a puny prey. 

You realize then and there that you've lost track of the date.

"Wait, what's the date today?" You ask him. 

Jacob hesitates to tell you. He doesn't know why, why he wants to with hold this information from you, it simply feels wrong to tell you something that relates to the outside world. It's a strange feeling that he's never sensed before, he's really not sure of the reasoning he has inside for his avoidance to tell you the date. It then irritates him a bit, that you would ask something like that when you two were enjoying a meal together. You weren't eating with the whole world,  you were eating with him. So your attention should be on him.

"Saturday." He finally answers after a few seconds, lying through his playful grin.

You accept his answer, and make a note to not lose track again. You each go back to working at your individual late breakfast when another question forms rapidly in your mind and blurts out from your mouth before you can stop it.

"Where's my laptop and phone?" You ask him.

Jacob pauses eating and turns his body towards you. You can't decipher this look. But it's dangerous, it's dark, it's a warning. You look back at him, not daring to break this twisted version of a staring contest. 

"Maybe you'd like to go outside." He says, ignoring your question. 

And you immediately understand what he means. Perhaps you wouldn't have before, but you're starting to understand his nature. This is not just an aversion of your question, it's a threat, that he will keep you inside for however long he pleases if you don't act the way he wants you to act. That reply serves as a reminder to you that he's in control here. That it's either you do what he wants and gain some freedom, or remain locked up.

"Yes, that would be nice," You reply, meekly. 

"Good, we can go sometime when you're ready." 

Jacob pauses, in thought.

"But for now let's stay inside. We can watch my new movie."

[valkyriexo]

You Faint | Bang Chan

ᑉ³pairing; Bang Chan x Reader

ᑉ³genre; Sickfic, Comfort, Fluff,

ᑉ³warnings; Fainting due to Dehydration and being busy, mentions of not eating, mentions of not drinking water, kissing, Implied Female reader, Established relationship

ᑉ³Authors Note; Other members coming soon!

Part of the "He helps you when.." collection. Other members parts: Chan | Minho | Changbin | Hyunjin | Han | Felix | Seungmin | Jeongin

In the flurry of your responsibilities as a personal assistant to the CEO of a massive corporation, every second counts, every task critical to the smooth functioning of the business. Despite the hunger gnawing at your stomach and the parched feeling in your throat, you soldier on, driven by the need to ensure that everything operates seamlessly for your employer.

Hours blur together as you navigate the demands of the corporate world, your own needs pushed to the sidelines in the relentless pursuit of success. The weight of expectations presses down on you with each passing moment, propelling you forward even as exhaustion threatens to overwhelm you. You don't have time to notice the way your limbs grow heavy with fatigue, the world around you fading into a distant blur as you push yourself beyond your limits.

But as the day wears on, your body begins to rebel against the neglect it's been subjected to. Dizziness clouds your vision, a warning sign of the toll the day's exertions have taken. With every step, your limbs grow heavier, protesting against the punishing pace you've been maintaining.

And then, without warning, it all becomes too much. Your vision blurs, black spots dancing at the edges as dizziness overwhelms your senses. Your knees buckle beneath you, unable to support the weight of your weakened body, and before you can even comprehend what's happening, darkness claims you.

As consciousness slowly seeps back into your awareness, you find yourself nestled on the plush couch of the CEO's office, the soft hum of the air conditioner the only sound in the room. Your head throbs with the remnants of your fainting spell, a dull ache echoing through your skull.

Blinking groggily, you glance around the room, your eyes adjusting to the dim lighting. To your surprise, you find yourself surrounded by two or three other assistants, their faces etched with concern as they hover nearby, murmuring amongst themselves.

"Hey, are you okay?" one of them asks, her voice laced with worry as she kneels beside you, her hand hovering over your forehead. "You gave us quite a scare there."

You nod weakly, the events of the day slowly coming back to you in fragmented pieces. "I... I think so," you mumble, your words slurred with exhaustion.

The other assistants exchange worried glances, their concern palpable in the air. "You should rest for a bit," another assistant suggests, her tone gentle as she helps you sit up, offering you a glass of water.

Taking a sip, you feel the cool liquid soothe your parched throat, the sensation a welcome relief. As you lean back against the cushions, you're grateful for the support of your colleagues, their presence a comforting reminder that you're not alone in your struggles.

"Thanks," you murmur, offering them a weak smile. "I appreciate it."

"We were so worried about you," one of them says, her voice filled with genuine concern. "You gave us quite the scare."

You offer a weak smile, still feeling disoriented and unsure of what happened. "I'm sorry," you mumble, your words barely audible.

Another assistant nods sympathetically. "We called for help," she explains gently. "We wanted to make sure you were okay."

You furrow your brow, confusion clouding your thoughts. "Called for help." you repeat, the words sinking in slowly.

Your mind feels foggy, memories hazy and fragmented, making it difficult to grasp the severity of the situation. The concern in the assistant's eyes only adds to your growing sense of unease, prompting a knot of anxiety to tighten in your chest.

Before anyone can elaborate further, the door to the CEO's office swings open, and Chan rushes in, his expression a mix of panic and relief. "I got here as fast as I could," he says breathlessly, his eyes darting around the room until they land on you. "Are you okay? What happened?"

You swallow hard, the reality of the situation hitting you like a ton of bricks. They called Chan, your emergency contact, before they even called the paramedics. You feel a pang of guilt knowing that he's here now, worrying about you, when you hadn't wanted to burden him.

As Chan rushes to your side, his expression a mix of relief and concern, you can see the worry etched into every line of his face. His hands tremble slightly as he reaches out to grasp yours, his touch both reassuring and desperate.

"I... I don't know," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just... I fainted, I think."

Chan's eyes widen with alarm, his grip on your hand tightening. "You fainted?" he repeats, his voice tinged with disbelief. Chan's concern deepens, his brows furrowing with worry. "Do you know why?" he asks gently. "Did you eat today? Drink enough water?"

You shift uncomfortably under his scrutiny, the guilt of neglecting your own well-being weighing heavily on you. "I... I may have forgotten," you admit sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

His expression softens with understanding, but a flicker of frustration dances in his eyes. "Y/N.."

"I just didn't have time," you whine, feeling the weight of his disappointment settle over you. "I have deadlines to meet, and it's been really busy here with the CEO prepping for a major partnership with another company. Plus, I'm in line for a promotion, Chan. If I do well, it's almost guaranteed. But if I fail, then I have no shot."

Chan's expression doesn’t give much away, but his resolve remains firm. "It's not that important," he insists, his tone gentle but firm. "There will always be other opportunities. Your health should come first."

You shake your head, frustration bubbling to the surface. "Not everyone can lead and be super talented like you, Chan," you argue, your voice tinged with emotion. "Some of us have to work twice as hard just to keep up."

"I know it feels that way," he says gently, as he reaches out to cup your cheek, his touch warm and comforting. "You're already doing more than enough," he assures you, his gaze unwavering. "But your health should never be sacrificed for success."

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words settling over you. "I know," you whisper, your voice heavy with resignation.

Chan's hums at your response, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment longer before he reluctantly withdraws. "Let's go home," he says gently, " You need rest."

With a heavy heart, you rise from the couch, your legs trembling beneath you as the full extent of your exhaustion becomes apparent. Chan's eyes widen in concern as he notices your struggle, his expression softening with empathy.

"Here, let me help you," he says, moving to your side and slipping an arm around your waist for support.

You lean into him gratefully, feeling the warmth of his embrace. With Chan's steadying presence, you manage to make your way out of the CEO's office and towards the elevator, your fatigue pressing down on you with each step.

As you reach the lobby, Chan guides you towards the exit, but when you attempt to take a step forward, your legs buckle beneath you, weakened by fatigue. Chan's eyes widen in alarm, his arms wrapping around you protectively as he catches you before you fall.

"Are you okay?" he asks, his voice filled with concern.

You nod weakly, feeling embarrassed by your inability to stand on your own two feet. "I'm just... really tired," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper.

Without hesitation, Chan sweeps you up into his arms, his strength a reassuring presence against your exhausted frame. "Let's get you home," he says softly, his voice filled with tenderness.

You nestle into his embrace, feeling safe and secure in his arms as he carries you out of the building and towards the waiting car.

Once you're settled into the car, Chan drives you home with careful attention, his concern never wavering as he steals glances at you from time to time. When you finally arrive at your apartment, he helps you out of the car and guides you inside, his arm wrapped protectively around you.

As you enter the cozy sanctuary of your home, Chan guides you towards the couch. However, he senses your hesitation, the way you lean heavily on him as if struggling to keep your balance.

"You need to rest," he insists softly, his voice laced with concern as he helps you settle onto the cushions. Despite his gentle urging, you remain silent, the weariness evident in every line of your body.

"I feel gross," you finally murmur, your voice barely above a whisper, admitting to the discomfort that weighs heavily on you.

Chan's brows furrow with worry, his gaze searching your face for any sign of discomfort or pain. Seeing your distress, he nods in understanding.

"Would you like to take a shower?" he suggests gently, his tone filled with empathy. He waits patiently for your response, ready to provide the support and comfort you need

You shake your head slowly, a feeling of exhaustion washing over you. "I don't think I have the energy," you confess, feeling a pang of guilt at the admission.

Chan's expression fills with empathy as he steps closer, his hand reaching out to gently squeeze yours. "That's okay," he reassures you, his voice soft and comforting. "Why don't we start with something smaller? Like washing your hair?"

You blink back tears, starting to feel overwhelmed. "I just... I feel so drained," you admit, your voice trembling with emotion.

Chan nods sympathetically, his gaze filled with compassion. "I understand," he says softly, his words a soothing balm to your weary soul. "Let's take it one step at a time, okay?

As Chan helps you make your way to the bathroom, you feel the weight of exhaustion pulling at your limbs. With his steady support, you settle on the edge of the bathtub, feeling drained and weak. Chan kneels beside you, his gentle hands reaching for the shower head. His concerned gaze meeting yours.

"Lean back," he murmurs, his voice a soothing melody in the quiet bathroom. You obey, allowing your head to rest against the edge of the tub as Chan pours the water over your hair, the liquid cascading down in a comforting stream.

The sensation of the warm water against your scalp is both soothing and revitalizing, washing away the weariness that has settled deep within your bones. Chan's touch is tender, his fingers massaging your scalp with care as he works shampoo into your hair, creating a rich lather that fills the air with a subtle scent of eucalyptus.

As Chan tenderly tends to your needs, a wave of helplessness crashes over you, leaving you feeling small and useless. The inability to perform even the simplest tasks on your own gnaws at you, a constant reminder of your vulnerability. You watch as Chan effortlessly takes care of everything, his competence highlighting your own shortcomings.

A heavy sigh escapes your lips as you struggle to suppress the rising tide of frustration and self-doubt. "I hate feeling like this," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper, tinged with the bitterness of inadequacy.

"Like what?" Chan's voice is gentle, his concern evident as he seeks to understand you.

"Helpless," you confess, the word heavy with emotion.

Chan notices the heaviness in your sigh and the sorrow in your eyes, and his heart aches with empathy. Leaning closer, he places a soft kiss on your lips.

"You're not helpless, love," he murmurs, his voice soft and filled with affection. "You're just taking a break. Everyone needs a little help sometimes, even superheroes like you."

His words are like a warm embrace, wrapping around you with love and understanding.

"You're my baby," he whispers, "And I'll always be here to take care of you, no matter what."

As Chan rinses the shampoo from your hair, the water running clear and pure, you feel a sense of renewal wash over you. With each gentle stroke of his hands, you can feel your energy slowly returning, a flicker of hope igniting within your chest.

When the task is finally complete, Chan reaches for a fluffy towel, wrapping it around your shoulders with care. He helps you to stand, guiding you away from the bathtub.

"Let's dry your hair a bit so you don't go to bed with it wet," he suggests, his lips forming a shy smile. He grabs a hairdryer, carefully adjusting the settings before starting to blow dry your hair, the warm air a comforting embrace against your skin.

As he works, you feel a sense of peace settle over you, the sound of the hairdryer a soothing backdrop to the quiet intimacy of the moment.

Chan concentrates intently, his brow furrowing as he focuses on the task at hand. His brow furrows in concentration, his lips pursed in determination as he attempts to weave the strands of your hair into a braid. With each failed attempt, a mixture of frustration and amusement flickers across his features, his cheeks flushing slightly with embarrassment.

You can't help but find his earnest efforts endearing, and a soft chuckle escapes your lips as you watch him work. The sound fills the small bathroom, mingling with the gentle patter of water droplets.

"Where did you learn to braid?" you ask, genuine curiosity in your tone.

Chan looks up at you, a sheepish grin spreading across his face. "I've been teaching myself," he admits, his fingers still fumbling with the strands of your hair. "I thought... one day, when we have kids together, I want to be able to braid their hair. I want to be the kind of dad who can do that."

His vulnerability touches your heart, and you reach out to gently squeeze his hand, a tender smile playing on your lips. "You'll be an amazing dad," you assure him, your voice filled with love and admiration. "And you're already an amazing partner."

"I want to be better,"he says softly, his voice tinged with sincerity. "For you."

He leans in, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss. His lips are soft against yours. As he pulls away, his eyes shimmering with adoration, he presses another tender kiss to your forehead before returning to his task.

"You did great," Chan whispers, his voice filled with pride and admiration, as he guides you to your bedroom. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm, comforting light across the room as he fusses over you, fluffing pillows and tucking blankets around you until you're cocooned in warmth.

With gentle hands, he arranges the pillows behind you, ensuring you're propped up just right for maximum comfort. He tucks the blankets snugly around your shoulders, his touch tender and reassuring as he ensures every corner is tucked in securely.

After making sure you're settled, Chan disappears into the kitchen, the faint clinking of dishes drifting through the air as he prepares your meal. Moments later, he returns with a tray laden with food – a simple yet nourishing meal, prepared with love.

The aroma of home-cooked food fills the room, mingling with the soft scent of freshly laundered sheets. Chan sets the tray down on your bedside table, arranging the dishes with care before settling in beside you.

As you eat, Chan sits close by, his warmth radiating beside you. He regales you with stories and jokes, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy and ease. Each tale is punctuated by his infectious laughter, and despite your weariness, you can't help but smile at his antics.

As you finish your meal, feeling the warmth of the food spreading through your body, Chan rises from his seat beside you, his movements fluid and graceful as he clears away the dishes. The clinking of plates and silverware fills the air as he tidies up, his attention to detail evident in every gesture.

Once the dishes are cleared, Chan returns to your side, settling in beside you on the bed. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around you in a gentle embrace. The familiar scent of his cologne envelops you, soothing away the remnants of tension that linger in your muscles.

With a contented sigh, you snuggle closer to him, reveling in the warmth and security of his embrace. Chan presses a tender kiss to your forehead, his touch a silent reassurance that everything will be okay.

"You have no idea what you do to me," he murmurs, his voice low and raw. As he speaks, he guides your hand to his chest, letting you feel the rapid thud of his heart beneath his shirt.

"Every time you're in pain or in danger," he continues, his voice barely above a whisper, "it's like my whole world stops."

You feel a lump form in your throat, a rush of emotion threatening to overwhelm you. "I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice trembling with emotion. "It wasn't on purpose."

Chan shakes his head, his grip tightening around you as if afraid to let go. "I know," he says softly. "But I need you to promise me something."

"What?" you ask.

"Promise me that you'll always try your best to care of yourself," he says, his tone earnest. "Promise me that you won't push yourself too hard, that you'll listen to your body and prioritize your health."

You meet his gaze, seeing the depth of his concern reflected in his eyes. With a nod, you offer him a small smile, filled with gratitude and determination.

"I promise," you vow, your voice steady with conviction.

Chan's eyes soften, a tender smile playing on his lips. "And I promise in return," he says softly, "to always be there when you need me, or a little extra help."

He settles back against the pillows, pulling you with him until you're both comfortable. As you nestle into each other, Chan reaches for the remote control, flicking through the channels until he finds a movie that catches your interest.

The soft glow of the TV bathes the room in a warm, flickering light as the movie begins to play. You rest your head against Chan's chest, feeling the rhythm of his heartbeat getting faster beneath your ear. It's a comforting sound, a reminder of the love and stability that he brings into your life.

As the movie unfolds, you lose yourself in the story, the worries and stresses of the day fading into the background. With Chan by your side, you feel safe and at peace, cocooned in a bubble of love and warmth.

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo 

[watermelonlovershigh]

Day on the Yacht Turns Baby Making on the Yacht

AN: i've had this idea ever since these photos came out and knew i had to write it. and lots of you guys did too because you ate up this concept. so here yall go. hope you enjoy.

This story contains: mentions of sea sickness, trying for a baby, having sex on a yacht, slight choking (kinda), slight biting (during the sex)

{ husband!harry - softrry - current harry era }

word count: 1,962

When you're fertility tracker goes off on the yacht to let you know that now is a good time to try for a baby, you make the excuse you feel seasick and have Harry come to the bathroom with you where he fucks you good against the counter top.

You and Harry decided one way to celebrate Love On Tour ending was to rent a yacht for the day and take it on the water with a couple of his friends and family. The day you chose to sail on the waters was beautiful. The sky was nice and blue and the Italian heat was hot but not too hot. The sight of your gorgeous husband was also making the view ten times better, but that's just your opinion.

Everyone on the yacht was having a great time. Some were laying out to tan. Others were sitting around with wine coolers, chatting to one another. Harry, being the man who brought everyone together today, was going around and trying to spread his attention.

First having a laugh with his long time Italian friends who are actually a gay married couple which you both attended their wedding three years ago. Then sitting beside his sister Gemma and her long time boyfriend, Michal. Of course Harry pays attention to you as well, asking if you're alright and bringing you another drink when you mention being parched.

About two hours into your yacht ride your phone buzzes in your hands. You didn't really have cell service in the ocean so you thought that was weird. But when you checked to see who texted you, you realized it wasn't a text. It was a notification from your fertility tracking app that tells you when you're most fertile and need to try for a baby.

See, for a few months now you and Harry have been trying to get pregnant. You knew his tour was ending in July and thought it would be the perfect time for you to settle down for a while and have a baby.

At first you just had sex willy nilly to get pregnant, but after several negative pregnancy tests, decided to download an app to help tell you when you're most fertile. Though not every time you have sex is with the sole mission of a baby. Sometimes you just have sex for simply the intimacy aspect.

Fuck, you internally curse. How the hell are you gonna fuck your husband while you're on a yacht surrounded by his friends and family. Thinking for a minute you come up with a plan. You can fake being seasick so he has an excuse to go down to the bathrooms with you and do some quick baby making without anyone batting an eye.

Knowing it's now or never, you fake grown and cry out, "Harry..."

He looks over at you from where he's sitting beside his sister and asks, "Yeah, love? What's the matter?"

Not exactly wanting the whole boat to know you're seasick, you wave him over to you. Harry gets up imidiantly and stalks over towards where you're sat on the side edge of the yacht. When he's close enough, you whine, "Just feeling a bit seasick. Can you take me to the toilets on the bottom level, please?"

"Yeah, of course, baby." Harry is quick to agree. The genuine worry on his face makes you feel bad for lying. But you know you won't feel bad in a few minutes when his cock is deep inside of you.

He takes ahold of your hand and very quickly steps over to Gemma to inform someone, "Hey, Y/N is feelin' a bit ill. M'gonna take her to the toilets. Hopefully we won't be gone long."

Gemma frowns and replies sweetly, "Awe, that's fine. Hope you feel better soon, Y/N." You mouth a "thank you" and tug Harry's arm in the direction of the stairs that lead to the bottom floor of the yacht.

While on your journey to the bathroom, Harry kindly asks, "When did you start to feel sick? You could have told me sooner and I would have seen if I could've borrowed a motion sickness pill off someone for you." How did you get so lucky to have married such a pure and sweet man.

Before you answer, you barge in the one toilet bathroom and Harry is fully ready to hold your hair back while you vomit. But instead, is taken back when you turn around and kiss his lips hard with need. "Baby....... what, thought you were gonna be sick?" he mutters confusedly against your mouth.

You pull away, breathing heavy and respond, "I lied. I needed an excuse to have you come down here with me and fuck me. Got the notification on my fertility app saying my fertile window is open and now is the best time to try and conceive. I need you to fuck me and come inside me. Right now."

Harry tosses his head back and says, "Fuck!" rather loudly. Though he is a bit uneasy about potentially getting caught having sex on this yacht, he could never pass up the opportunity to fuck his sexy wife and give her a baby. "Well, okay then. Do you need, like, warming up first or..." He's fully ready to eat you out or finger you for a minute to get you fully aroused if you needed that.

Harry's too kind sometimes. Always thinking of your wellbeing and needs. You laugh and grab his hand to lower it to the front of your swimsuit. "No, babe. Seeing you in these tight, green swim trunks has had me wet for hours, see." His fingers come in contact with your clothed wet pussy and that has him hardening right up.

"Alright, turn around and lean over the sink f'me." Harry instructs and you do as told. This yacht's bathroom is rather small but you'll make it work. You've had sex in much smaller spaces before but those are stories for another time. Harry drops to his knees and as he goes to slide your bikini bottoms down your legs, he kisses over your ass cheeks and the back of your thighs.

"Harry, we don't have time for that, just put a baby in me. Hurry." you grumble. You're far too impatient for him to tease you right now. You just need him to fuck you.

As he stands back up and drops his green swim trunks to his ankles, Harry retorts, "Alright, stop being bratty. I'll give you what you want. Know I always do, m'love." He takes ahold of his now very hard cock and gives it a few strokes to make sure its fully erect for you. When it is, he helps spread your legs how he thinks would work best for this position and leans over your back, carefully nudging his dick in your soaked hole with the guidance of his right hand.

"Ohh, Harry!" you can't help but moan while he's pushing all the way in and that causes him to slap his left hand over your mouth to silence you.

"Love," he says from behind you're body, "gotta stay quiet. Can't risk anyone hearing us." You nod your head in understanding and bite your lip to silence yourself when you feel him bottom out. Then without warning, Harry pulls his hips back, leaving just the tip inside your cunt, before slamming forward.

The hand Harry had over your mouth has moved down to your neck. Not with the intentions to necessarily choke you, though he is applying slight pressure, but more so to help you stay upright and look at yourself in the mirror. The scene of Harry fucking you from behind has got you even more turned on than before. The way his tan skin is glistening with sweat. The way his curly hair has fallen over his forehead. The way Harry is looking right into your eyes from over your shoulders in the mirror. It's all so intense.

After a couple of minutes, Harry can feel the knot in his stomach tighten and he knows he's about to come. Your tight pussy just feels so good hugging his cock. Wanting to see if you were up there with him, he questions in heavy pants, "Are you close? M'bout to come. Just feels so - fuckin' - good, Y/N!"

You nod and squeak out, "Yeah, I'm close too, H." Knowing you may need a little bit of extra help, he takes his right hand that he had stationed on your hip for stability and reaches in front of you until he finds your clit. When he does, he begins rubbing the nerve in tight circles and that's exactly what pushes you over the edge. That and his cock rubbing against your g-spot from this angle. You nearly fall forward because as you come your legs give out and if Harry wasn't pressed up behind you, you're sure you would have collapsed onto the boats floor.

"Ah, God!!!" you gasp while waves of pleasure roll through your body. Your orgasm triggers Harry's and he shoots his load as deep as he can inside of you. His hips falter their movements and he has to bite down on your shoulder to quiet himself from the moans he's dying to let out.

Slowly, everything comes to a stop and you're both left sweaty and panting for air in this small yacht bathroom. Harry carefully removes his hand from your throat and you slowly start to lean forward over the counter top again. The movement causes you to accidently pulse around his softening cock and he curses in slight pain. "Fuckin' hell."

"Sorry, sorry." you repeat out of breath and Harry shushes you by gently responding, "It's alright. Gonna pull out now and then I'll help you up on the counter so my cum doesn't drip on the floor." You nod and Harry carefully pulls his dick out your pussy and turns you around to lift you up on the small countertop beside the sink.

Now face to face, Harry can't help but to lean forward and plant a kiss to your lips. The kiss stays soft and airy. But knowing people above is bound to become concerned with how long you've been down here, you whisper, "Love you. Thank you for coming down here with me and I hope we made a little baby. Can't wait for our family to grow."

Harry nearly cries and gets hard again at the same time with all this baby talk. "Y/N, no need to thank me. Love you so much and would do anything to give us a baby. Even if that means break away from my friends and family to fuck my wife in a yacht's bathroom in the Italian ocean."

---------------------------

Harry helped you get cleaned up and properly dressed again as well as redress himself. Then you both walk hand in hand back up to the top deck again where everyone looks at you with concern. Gemma's the first to come up to you and asks, "Feeling better, love? You can have a sickness pill if you need one? I always bring extra."

Feeling bad for everyone's genuine concern on your sea sickness but also happy you weren't actually sea sick, you decline, "Oh, no thank you. I'm feeling much better now. Your brother is a great doctor."

Everyone continues to have a great time. Laughing and enjoying the summer sun. Until Brad, Harry's friend and personal trainer comes up behind you and gasps, "Y/N, why is there a bite mark on your shoulder? Are you alright?" Your eyes go wide and Harry who heard the entire interaction goes pale in front of you. To the point he looks as though he may actually get sea sick.

"Um, um.." you stutter. Well fuck, how do you explain they're your husbands teeth marks from where he bit your shoulder to conceal his moans while coming inside of you to give you a baby.

(PLEASE REBLOG BECAUSE WRITING IS NOT EASY AND IT'S FREE SO JUST DO IT)

(no more tags are allowed because i've hit my number limit. sorry : ( )

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______________

My Masterlist Masterpost

[rafesapologist]

the setback ─ rafe cameron; part thirteen

summary: it's been two years since your departure from the outer banks and rafe cameron has seemingly convinced himself that he can go on with his life as if you never happened, except now more than ever his addiction is at an all time high. whether he was snorting lines of cocaine at wild parties or drowning himself in alcohol to numb the pain, rafe couldn't escape the memories of you. despite his efforts to bury his feelings, your absence lingered like a shadow, haunting him at every turn. meanwhile, you've been navigating life outside the outer banks, trying to carve out a new path for yourself. but no matter how far you've traveled, the memories of rafe cameron still linger in your heart, leaving you with a sense of unfinished business. as you find yourself facing new challenges and opportunities, you can't help but wonder if fate will eventually bring you back to the place where it all began.

warnings: brief moments of kissing, violence, swearing, mentions of blood

author's note: i was writing this during 1013029 other assignments so if there's any errors forgive me i have so much mental fatigue rn also i think i spelled sofia's name wrong at some point in this story so my b

You stood there in silence, your lip quivering in the aftermath of the argument with Kiara. Holding yourself tightly, you fought back tears, the weight of her words pressing down on you. The night air felt heavy and suffocating, the sounds of the party fading into the background.

Rafe placed a gentle hand on the small of your back, his touch warm and reassuring. "I can take you home if you need me to. Or you can come back to my place," he offered, his voice soft and concerned.

You sniffled, wiping away a single tear as you turned to face Rafe, nodding quickly as you tried to brush off your emotions. "Can you just... take me to your house tonight?" you said flatly, your gaze fixed on the ground. "I don't think it's a good idea to be around Kie right now. She probably needs time to calm down."

Rafe nodded without hesitation, his grip on the steering wheel tightening slightly. "Of course," he replied softly. "Let's get out of here, okay?"

The drive was a blur, the city lights flickering past as you both sat in contemplative silence. When you finally arrived at Rafe's house, he parked the car and hurried around to your side, opening the door for you. You stepped out, the cool night air brushing against your skin, grounding you for a moment.

Rafe led you inside, his hand gently resting on the small of your back, guiding you through the dimly lit hallway. The house was quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos of the party. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you as you entered his home, the familiarity of it offering a small comfort.

He took you to the living room and sat you down on the couch, then disappeared into the kitchen. Moments later, he returned with a glass of water and a warm blanket, draping it over your shoulders as he handed you the glass.

"Here," he said softly, sitting down beside you. "Drink this. It'll help."

You took a sip, the cool water soothing your parched throat. Rafe watched you with concern, his eyes never leaving your face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked gently.

You shook your head, not ready to delve into the emotions swirling inside you. "Not right now," you murmured. "I just... I need a moment."

Rafe nodded, respecting your need for space. He reached out and took your hand, squeezing it reassuringly. "I'm here when you're ready," he said, his voice filled with sincerity.

You leaned back against the couch, the events of the night replaying in your mind. Kiara's harsh words, Sophia's taunts, and the overwhelming confrontation left you feeling drained and uncertain. But as you sat there, Rafe's presence beside you offered a sense of support.

Rafe's house was eerily quiet, a stark contrast to the bustling party you had just left. You leaned back on the couch, the blanket wrapped tightly around you as Rafe sat beside you, his hand still holding yours. The warmth of his touch was a grounding force amidst the chaos in your mind.

"I know things are a mess right now," Rafe began, his voice low and soothing. "But we'll figure it out. I promise."

You nodded, but your thoughts were far away, replaying the confrontation with Kiara over and over again. Her words had cut deep, and the realization that your secret was partially out left you feeling exposed and vulnerable. The anger in her voice and the betrayal in her eyes were hard to shake off.

Rafe squeezed your hand gently, bringing you back to the present. "Do you want to watch something? Maybe a movie to distract you?" You simply nodded.

Rafe got up from the couch and grabbed the remote, flicking through the channels until he found a light-hearted movie. He settled back down beside you, his arm draping over your shoulders protectively. As the movie played, you tried to focus on the screen, but your mind kept wandering back to the confrontation with Kiara.

"Is this okay?" Rafe asked softly, his eyes scanning your face for any sign of discomfort.

You nodded weakly, your eyes glued to your hands as you picked at your nails. "Yeah, it's fine."

Rafe adjusted the volume to a low, comforting hum. He leaned back, pulling you gently against him. His presence was soothing, a small lifeline in the storm of emotions swirling inside you.

For a while, you sat in silence, the movie playing in the background. Rafe's fingers traced small, comforting circles on your arm. The gesture was simple but grounding, allowing you to feel his support without the need for words.

"I don't want to lose my friends," you whispered after a while, your voice barely audible.

Rafe tightened his hold on you. "I know. And you won't. It's just... going to take time. They're just being stubborn."

You nodded, the lump in your throat growing. "I just wish things could go back to how they were."

Rafe's eyes stayed glued to yours, reading your expression carefully. "What do you mean?"

"It's just that—I don't know. I wish we didn't have to hide our relationship from them. I want to be with you unapologetically, yet I know my friends are going to crucify me for just speaking to you again." Your voice wavered with frustration and a touch of desperation, the weight of the secrecy and the fear of judgment bearing down on you.

Rafe's expression softened, a mix of understanding and sadness crossing his features. He reached out, taking both of your hands in his, his touch warm and reassuring. "I know baby, I'm sorry," he said quietly, his thumbs tracing gentle circles on the backs of your hands. "But we can get through this. I don't want you to feel like you have to choose between me and your friends."

You looked down, the conflict inside you swirling like a storm. "But what if they make me choose? What if they don't understand why I'm with you? Kiara and the others... they have such strong opinions about you, and they're not exactly positive."

Rafe sighed, a hint of frustration creeping up into his voice. "I know, but really, if they care about you, they would want you to be happy. It's selfish of them to ask you to choose."

You nodded, feeling a flicker of validation in his words. "I've never thought of it that way," you admitted, a glimmer of hope stirring within you.

"I'm serious, y/n," he continued, his tone firm but gentle. "You have gone through hell and back for them. The least they could do is let you be happy."

"It's not that simple," you responded, frustration and sadness mingling in your voice. "They've been my friends for so long, and we've been through so much together. They're like family to me. I can't just ignore their feelings."

Rafe sighed, understanding but still resolute. "I get that, but think about what you're saying. If they're truly your friends, if they really care about you, they should want you to be happy. You shouldn't have to hide who you're with or feel ashamed of your choices."

You sighed, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on you. "I just wish they could see you the way I do," you said softly. "See how much you've changed and how much you care."

"I don't think they'll ever necessarily love me," Rafe sighed, tracing gentle lines onto your bare thigh, his touch soothing yet tinged with his own vulnerability. "But if they can see that you're happy with me, they'll have to at least accept that."

You nodded, feeling the truth of his words settle within you. "I hope so," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. "I just want them to understand that I want to be with you, that you’re not who they think you are."

Rafe's eyes softened, his hand pausing its gentle motion to rest warmly on your thigh. "They will. It might take time, but they’ll see it. And I'll do whatever it takes to show them that I'm committed to you."

You placed your hand over his, squeezing gently. "Thank you, Rafe. For being patient and understanding. Means a lot to me."

He leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "You're worth it," he said softly, his breath warm against your skin. "Every bit of it."

You and Rafe sat in silence for a moment, pausing to stare back at each other as you both analyzed the features of each other's faces. You felt the world melt away around you, as if everything else was just background noise amidst the feeling that was brewing inside of you towards Rafe.

His eyes, filled with a mix of concern and affection, held yours with an intensity that made your heart race. The gentle curve of his lips, the way his hair fell slightly into his eyes—every detail seemed to draw you in deeper. You could feel the electricity between you, a magnetic pull that was impossible to ignore.

Then suddenly, Rafe cupped your face gently, his touch soft and reassuring. His thumb brushed lightly across your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. Without a word, he leaned in, his eyes never leaving yours until the very last moment.

His lips attached themselves to yours, moving slowly and tenderly. The kiss was soft at first, a tentative exploration, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your mouths moving in sync together. The sensation was overwhelming, a flood of emotions and sensations that made your head spin and your heart flutter.

Butterflies erupted in your stomach, their delicate wings brushing against the walls of your insides, filling you with a sense of exhilaration and warmth. The worries and fears that had weighed you down seemed to dissolve in that moment, replaced by the pure, unfiltered joy of being close to Rafe.

His hands slid from your face to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. You wrapped your arms around him, holding on as if he were the only thing anchoring you to the world. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his skin, the rhythm of his heartbeat against yours—it all combined to create a perfect, intoxicating moment of connection.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and slightly dizzy, you opened your eyes to find Rafe gazing at you with an expression of pure adoration. His forehead rested against yours, both of you catching your breath, the world around you slowly coming back into focus.

Rafe's hand reached out, gently cradling your cheek as he whispered, "I love you, y/n," his voice soft yet full of sincerity. His eyes, filled with affection, locked onto yours, a silent declaration of his unwavering devotion.

Feeling the warmth of his touch, you leaned into his hand, savoring the tenderness of the moment. "I love you too, Rafe," you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

A smile graced Rafe's lips, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone as he leaned in closer. His hand found yours, fingers intertwining as he brought your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles.

"I'm always gonna love you," Rafe whispered, his voice filled with vulnerability and tenderness.

"How can you be so sure?" you asked quietly, your eyes glued onto your lap as you fiddled with your hands.

Rafe's gaze softened, his hand reaching out to gently lift your chin, guiding your eyes to meet his. "Because," he said softly, his voice certain, "I've spent the last two years thinking you were gone for good, and I'll be damned if I don't love you right while you're here."

"I've missed you so much," you whispered, your voice trembling with raw emotion. "I never thought I'd get a second chance with you."

Rafe's thumb brushed against your cheek, wiping away a stray tear that had escaped your eye. "You have me now," he murmured, his eyes locking onto yours with a fierce intensity. "And I'm not going anywhere."

You gave Rafe a small smile, gazing up at him with weary, tired eyes, but the blissful contentment you felt was undeniable. He noticed the exhaustion etched into your expression and gently urged you, "Get some sleep. I'll be here when you wake up."

His words were soft, a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. You nodded, trusting in his promise. With a sense of security washing over you, you nestled closer into his embrace, your head resting against his chest. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulled you into a deep slumber, each beat a reminder of his presence and unwavering support.

As you drifted off, Rafe wrapped his arms more securely around you, his touch a protective cocoon. He watched over you, his eyes filled with a tender mix of love and concern. The room fell silent, the only sound the soft, even breaths you took as you slept peacefully in his arms on the couch.

Hours passed soon passed when Rafe, too, succumbed to the comforting embrace of sleep. His arms instinctively wrapped around you, as if you might disappear if he let go. The both of you slept peacefully in each other's presence, the world outside fading away as you found solace in your shared slumber.

The tranquility of the night was abruptly shattered by a loud banging on the front door. The sudden noise jolted you awake, your heart pounding in your chest. The movement stirred Rafe, his arms tightening protectively around you as he blinked himself awake, confusion and concern flashing in his eyes.

"What's going on?" he mumbled, his voice groggy but alert.

"I don't know, somebody is pounding at the front door," you replied, sitting up and looking towards the door, the remnants of sleep quickly giving way to a sense of unease.

Rafe was immediately on his feet, his protective instincts kicking in as he moved to stand between you and the door. "Stay here," he instructed firmly, though his voice remained gentle.

The banging continued, persistent and insistent. Rafe glanced back at you, his eyes filled with reassurance despite the tension in the air. He approached the door cautiously, peering through the peephole before opening it slightly.

"Who's there?" he demanded, his tone steady but firm.

Suddenly, your heart fell to your stomach as you heard a familiar voice through the door, "Open the fucking door, Cameron. I need to have a word with you, asshole!" The voice shouted, causing you to flinch. You looked at Rafe with dread and worry in your eyes. You could recognize that voice from miles away—it was JJ.

Rafe's jaw tightened, and he glanced at you, reading the anxiety on your face. He took a deep breath, trying to remain calm as he turned back to the door. Silently, he urged you to stay where you were, though you felt a strong urge to rush in front of him.

Rafe swung the door open, only to be met with JJ, his anger evident across his face. "Where the fuck is she, Rafe? You think you can just have her whenever you feel like it, huh?" JJ shouted, shoving Rafe in the chest.

Rafe staggered back slightly but held his ground, his eyes narrowing. "JJ, calm down. This isn't the way to handle this." His voice remained somewhat calm, hoping not to scare you more than you already were.

"Calm down?" JJ barked, his face contorted with rage. "You've got some nerve, Cameron. Where is she?"

You took a step forward, your heart pounding in your chest. "JJ, I'm right here," you said, your voice steady despite the fear coursing through you. "Please, just stop."

JJ's eyes snapped to you, and for a moment, the anger in his gaze was replaced by hurt. "Why, Y/N? Why are you with him? After everything he's done?"

Rafe stepped slightly in front of you, shielding you with his body. "JJ, I know you're upset. But barging in here and starting a fight isn't going to help anything."

"Shut the fuck up, Rafe. You don't know shit about how I feel," JJ seethed, a look of disgust ridden on his face as he glared at Rafe. "y/n, are you serious? The second we get back on the island, you run right back to him? Are you insane?"

JJ's chagrin and despondency left you feel gutted in the heat of the moment as you stood there, although physically guarded by Rafe, suffocated by the morose glance in your best friend's eyes as they bored into yours. You could feel heat rise to your cheeks as the tension rose, an uncomfortable itch creeping up your neck.

"Jay it wasn't like that," you defended although it was quite meekly, "I wanted nothing to do with him when we came back, you know that. I..I didn't choose this." Your words faltered, lacking the conviction you wished you could muster. Your arms wrapped around yourself protectively, a feeble attempt to shield yourself from the onslaught of JJ's resentment.

"So that's it? You didn't 'choose this', so that makes cheating on me okay?" JJ spat out, his once wounded expression faltering into one of disgust and animosity.

"So that's it? You didn't 'choose this', so that makes cheating on me okay?" JJ spat out, his tone laced with bitterness and anger. The accusation hung heavy in the air, and you felt a lump form in your throat. Guilt gnawed at your insides, a painful reminder of the hurt you had inadvertently caused. Tears welled up in your eyes, blurring your vision as you struggled to find the right words to explain yourself.

You stumbled on your words once again, attempting to speak up for yourself despite your heart breaking right in that moment. "No, JJ, I-"

"Save it, Y/N. I hope all of this was worth it," JJ scoffed, pointing around for emphasis. "You're a real bitch, you know that?" His words struck you like a physical blow, and you felt your chest tighten with the weight of his accusation. The pain in his voice mirrored the agony in your own heart, and the realization that you had hurt him so deeply was almost unbearable.

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, but you refused to let them fall. Instead, you squared your shoulders, a shaky resolve settling over you. "JJ, please, just listen-"

Just before you could finish your sentence, Rafe spoke up, getting in between you and JJ. "Don't you fucking dare call her that," he threatened, his voice low and dangerous. His protective stance shielded you from JJ's searing gaze.

"Or what, Rafe? You're gonna call your daddy and have him frame me for a murder you committed?" JJ shot back, his words dripping with venom, his fists clenching at his sides.

In an instant, the atmosphere crackled with tension, the air thick with animosity. Rafe's usually composed demeanor shattered like glass, replaced by a primal fury. He lunged forward, his fist connecting with JJ's jaw with a sickening thud. The room erupted into chaos as the two men grappled with each other, fists flying and curses spat between clenched teeth. Rafe's rage fueled every blow, his pent-up frustration unleashed in a flurry of violence.

JJ fought back with equal ferocity, his anger fueled by a sense of betrayal and hurt. Each punch landed with a sickening impact, the sound echoing off the walls as the fight raged on.

You watched in horror, torn between the instinct to intervene and the fear of making things worse. "Stop! Please, stop!" you cried out, your voice barely audible over the sound of their struggle.

But your pleas fell on deaf ears as the two men continued to pummel each other, locked in a vicious battle fueled by years of unresolved tension. Furniture toppled and glass shattered as they crashed into anything in their path, leaving a trail of destruction in their wake.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Rafe managed to gain the upper hand. With a final, bone-crushing blow, he sent JJ crashing to the ground, blood pooling beneath him as he lay motionless. The room fell into stunned silence as Rafe stood over JJ's prone form, his chest heaving with exertion. The adrenaline coursing through his veins slowly began to ebb away, replaced by a wave of guilt and regret.

You stood there, frozen in shock, your hands trembling as you covered your wide-open mouth. The scene unfolded before you in a surreal blur, the sound of fists connecting and bodies colliding echoing in the air. Tears streamed down your cheeks unchecked, your heart pounding wildly in your chest.

As JJ fell to the floor from Rafe's powerful blow, a strangled gasp escaped your lips. The sight of him lying motionless, blood pooling beneath him, sent a shiver down your spine. It was as if time had come to a standstill, the weight of the violence crashing down on you like a ton of bricks.

Rafe's voice broke through the haze of shock, his words heavy with regret. "Y/N, you shouldn't have seen that. I'm so sorry."

You blinked, trying to process his apology amidst the chaos that surrounded you. His voice sounded distant, as if coming from a faraway place, and you struggled to find your own voice amidst the turmoil in your mind.

"I-" You shook your head, backing up as you stared down at JJ, your heart wrenching in anguish. Tears streamed down your cheeks, blurring your vision as you cried, "JJ, please wake up. I'm sorry... I didn't mean for this to happen."

Your voice cracked with emotion, each word choked out between sobs as you knelt beside him. You reached out, gently cradling JJ's head in your trembling hands, desperate for any sign of life from him.

"Rafe, we have to help him, please," you pleaded, your voice a desperate whisper as you turned to Rafe, your eyes pleading for assistance. The gravity of the situation weighed heavily on you, the guilt of witnessing the violence that had unfolded consuming you from the inside out.

"Get my phone and call Sarah, please," you pleaded, your voice trembling with urgency as Rafe rushed over to grab it. He handed it to you with a sense of urgency, his guilty expression mirroring the turmoil in your own heart.

With shaking hands, you dialed Sarah's number, each digit feeling like a weight in your chest. The phone rang once, twice, before finally connecting.

"Sarah," you choked out, your voice thick with tears. "I need you to come over to your house, please. Something happened with JJ." As you spoke, Rafe hovered anxiously beside you, his eyes filled with remorse. You could see the weight of his actions bearing down on him, and despite the chaos surrounding you, a small part of you couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him.

"Okay," Sarah replied, her voice steady but tinged with concern. "I'll be there in a second."

The urgency in her tone spurred you into action. With trembling hands, you ended the call and turned to Rafe, your eyes filled with a mix of fear and determination.

"We need to do something," you said, your voice trembling with emotion. "We can't just leave him here like this."

Together, you sprang into action, working in frantic silence to assess JJ's injuries. Blood stained his shirt where Rafe's punches had landed, and you could see bruises forming on his face and arms. As you knelt beside him, gently cradling his head in your hands, a sense of helplessness washed over you. The sight of JJ lying there, battered and broken, was almost too much to bear.

But you refused to give in to despair. With Sarah on her way, there was still hope. You could only pray that she would arrive in time to help.

Minutes felt like hours as you waited, each second ticking by with agonizing slowness. Finally, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching, and relief flooded through you as Sarah burst through the door, her medical bag in hand.

"Thank God you're here," you breathed, your voice thick with emotion.

Sarah's eyes widened in horror at the sight of JJ on the floor, his battered form a stark contrast to the usual lively friend they knew. Before she could speak, Kiara appeared from behind her, her shocked gasp echoing through the room.

"What the fuck did you do?" Kiara's voice was filled with disbelief and anger, her eyes flickering between you, Rafe, and JJ's prone figure on the floor.

You felt a knot form in your stomach at the accusation in her tone. "Kiara, it's not what you think," you began, your voice trembling with emotion. "Rafe didn't mean for any of this to happen."

Rafe stepped forward, his expression pained. "It was an accident," he added, his voice thick with remorse. "I never meant to hurt him."

But Kiara's eyes narrowed, her disbelief turning to fury. "An accident?" she spat, her voice rising with each word. "Look at him! Do you call this an accident?"

You flinched at the accusation, the weight of Kiara's anger bearing down on you like a heavy burden. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you struggled to find the words to explain yourself.

"We need to get him to a hospital," Sarah interjected, her voice calm but urgent. "Now."

You nodded, frantically looking around the room for your things as you prepared to head to the hospital with your friends, a sense of urgency propelling you forward. But before you could take another step, Kiara's voice stopped you in your tracks.

"No, you're not going," she declared, her tone firm and uncompromising. She crossed her arms, her attitude towards you full of spite.

You felt a surge of disbelief wash over you at her words. "But Kiara, I have to go," you protested, your voice tinged with desperation. "I need to be there for JJ."

Kiara's gaze hardened, her resolve unyielding. "You caused this," she accused, her words cutting through the air like a knife. "And you're gonna have to live with it."

The weight of her words hit you like a ton of bricks, the realization sinking in that you were being held accountable for the events that had transpired. Tears welled up in your eyes as you struggled to comprehend the gravity of the situation.

"But I didn't mean for any of this to happen," you pleaded, your voice cracking with emotion. "Please, Kiara, I need to be there for him."

But Kiara remained unmoved, her expression steely as she refused to budge. With a heavy heart, you realized that there was no changing her mind.

Defeated, you sank down onto the nearest chair, feeling utterly powerless as your friends prepared to leave without you. The guilt of what had happened weighed heavily on your shoulders, and as you watched them disappear out the door, you couldn't help but wonder if things would ever be the same again.

"Y/n, it's gonna be okay," Rafe reassured quietly, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder and giving a small squeeze. His touch was warm, but the comfort it offered felt distant and far away.

You stared at the doorway, watching as Sarah and Kiara disappeared with JJ. A single tear slid down your cheek, a silent testament to the turmoil swirling inside you. The room felt colder and emptier in their absence, the weight of the night's events pressing down on you like a physical burden.

"I don't know, Rafe," you whispered, your voice trembling. "I don't know if things will ever be okay again."

Rafe squeezed your shoulder a bit tighter, his expression softening with concern. "They will. Kiara's just angry right now. She'll come back around."

You wanted to believe him, to cling to the hope that somehow, things would return to normal. But as you sat there, feeling the sting of Kiara's words and the pain of JJ's injuries, the rift between your two worlds seemed insurmountable.

You turned to Rafe, searching his eyes for reassurance. "What if they don't? What if I've lost them for good?"

Rafe paused for a moment, his gaze holding steady as his eyes flickered between yours. He swallowed thickly, his expression softening with earnest concern. "You can't keep worrying about what might happen in the future, y/n," he said gently. "You just have to take things one step at a time, yeah? Don't stress yourself out over them."

You nodded slowly, trying to absorb his words. The future felt like a dark, looming cloud, but Rafe's steady presence offered a small ray of light. His hand moved from your shoulder to gently cup your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had fallen.

"I know it's hard," he continued, his voice unwavering. "But you need to focus on what you can control right now. We'll deal with the rest as it comes."

You took a deep breath, feeling a slight easing of the tension that had gripped you. "I just... I don't want to lose them," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

"You won't," Rafe promised, his eyes filled with determination. "It might take some time, but if they really love you, they will come around. They just need to see that you're happy and that this is real."

You bit your lip, considering his words. The thought of losing your friends was unbearable, but so was the idea of losing Rafe. You knew that somehow, you had to find a way to reconcile both parts of your life.

"Thank you, Rafe," you said quietly, your voice steadying. "For being here. For understanding."

Rafe crouched down to be eye level with you on the couch, placing his hands on the tops of your thighs as he gazed up at you softly. His touch was gentle, grounding you in the present moment as he spoke. "I'm always gonna be here, y/n. That I promise you."

You looked into his eyes, searching for any hint of doubt but finding none. His sincerity was genuine, and the warmth of his hands on your thighs provided a comforting blanket around your heart as your emotions felt torn. The unwavering steadiness in his gaze reassured you in a way that words alone couldn't.

Tears welled up in your eyes again, but this time they were tears of relief and gratitude. "Rafe, I don't know what I would do without you," you whispered, your voice cracking slightly.

"I could say the same to you," Rafe laughed softly, though a glimpse of sincerity peaked through his tone. He shifted slightly, his hands still resting on your thighs, his thumbs gently tracing soothing circles. "Seeing you again showed me how miserable I was when you were gone. I was a mess."

You furrowed your brow, your curiosity piqued. "What do you mean?" you asked, searching his eyes for answers.

Rafe sighed, his expression growing more somber as he averted his gaze briefly, as if gathering the courage to continue. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he steadied himself. "I did a lot of things I regret," he admitted, his voice heavy with remorse. "I... I cheated on Sofia, did a shit ton of drugs. There's not much I didn't do."

You felt a pang of sadness and concern for him as you listened. His honesty was raw, unfiltered, and it made you realize just how deeply your absence had affected him. Rafe's hands tightened slightly on your thighs, as if he feared you might pull away after hearing his confession.

"When you left, I felt like my world fell apart," he continued, his voice trembling slightly. "I didn't know how to cope, so I turned to anything that could numb the pain. I thought I could fill the void with other people, with substances, but nothing worked. I was just... lost."

You reached out, placing a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to yours. "Rafe, I'm so sorry you went through that," you whispered, your heart aching for the pain he had endured. "I had no idea."

Rafe leaned into your touch, closing his eyes for a moment as if savoring the comfort it brought. "It was my own doing," he said quietly, his voice filled with regret. "But seeing you again, being with you now, it feels like I've been given a second chance. I don't want to mess this up."

Your thumb gently stroked his cheek, wiping away a tear that had escaped his eye. "We're both here now," you reassured him softly. "We can move forward together, learn from the past and make things right."

Rafe nodded, his eyes meeting yours with a newfound determination. "I want to be better for you, y/n," he vowed, his voice steady and sincere. "I want to be the person you deserve."

"You're the only person I want," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hung in the air between you, charged with emotion and vulnerability.

Rafe's eyes widened slightly, a flicker of hope igniting in their depths. He shifted closer, his hands sliding up from your thighs to gently cradle your face. "You don't know how much it means to hear you say that," he murmured, his thumbs brushing lightly across your cheeks.

Your heart raced as you gazed into his eyes, the intensity of the moment making everything else fade into the background. "It's the truth," you continued, your voice growing steadier. "No matter what happens, no matter what anyone else thinks, I want to be with you."

Rafe's breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked as if he was struggling to find the right words. Instead, he leaned in, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "I promise I'll make it up to you, all of the time we lost," he whispered against your skin. "I'll be the man you deserve."

You closed your eyes, savoring the warmth of his touch and the sincerity in his voice. "We can make this work," you said softly, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders. "As long as we're honest with each other, I think we'll be okay, Rafe."

Rafe pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his expression serious yet filled with a renewed sense of determination. "I'm all in," he declared, his voice unwavering. "No more secrets, no more lies. Just us, no matter what anyone says."

You nodded, feeling a surge of hope and resolve. "I promise," you echoed, sealing your promise with a kiss.

As your lips met, you felt a profound sense of connection, a bond forged in the trials and tribulations of the past and strengthened by the commitment to face the future as a united front. The kiss deepened, a mix of passion and reassurance, conveying everything words couldn't.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, but the air between you was lighter, filled with possibilities. Rafe rested his forehead against yours, a small smile playing on his lips. "We should probably get some sleep," he suggested gently, his hands still cradling your face. "It's been a long night."

You nodded, a feeling of exhaustion beginning to settle in now that the adrenaline was fading. "You're right," you agreed, though you were reluctant to break the moment. "But I'm glad we talked."

"Me too," Rafe replied, his smile growing. "Come on, let's get some rest."

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[beachbabe000]

My Brothers Girl / / Christopher Sturniolo

summary: You're in a relationship with Matt, but you're slightly unhappy with some aspects. One night those needs are met, but not by Matt.

Warnings: Smut, cheating, relationship between brothers and y/n, fingering, enemies to lovers, use of y/n

There will be multiple chapters of this story. -----------------------------------------

         I walked downstairs to grab some water. Matt’s been busy on his games all morning and I’ve been working on my laptop. Suddenly parched I finally left his bed after a few hours, needing a break. After getting my water I close the fridge and turn around. As soon as I turned I walked right into someone causing me to fall to the ground, spilling the water.

“Watch where you’re going kid.” I heard. I looked up and saw Chris, he had a scowl on his face. Not even bothering to help me up he walked around me also grabbing a drink from the fridge. He did give a look over of my body before moving, causing my breath to hitch. He probably meant nothing of it, but why did it make me respond that way? Me and Chris are constantly fighting. Why? I have no idea, but for some reason we’ve loathed each other since we met. Which becomes annoying when I’ve been dating his brother for 4 years now.

“Maybe don’t stand so close to me and I wouldn’t have to.” Returning the attitude I stood up and grabbed a towel to clean the mess. “Maybe don’t be here all the time and you wouldn’t always be in my way.”

At this point we started bickering, getting into one of our typical arguments. Hearing our voices getting higher by the minute, Matt makes his way downstairs. “What’s going on in here?” He walks in asking me before moving his attention to Chris. “Can you just leave her alone man, why do you have to make things so difficult?” Chris raises his voice again, “She’s always fucking here! Just keep your pet out of my way and on  a leash.” Storming out of the kitchen. “What the fuck. Your pet? Where does he come up with this shit?” I ask angrily watching him leave the kitchen. “I don’t know. Sorry about him. Lets head back upstairs.” He pours me another water.

Night time comes around and I’m cuddling in bed with Matt as we’re relaxing for sleep. I turn to face him in his arms, burying my face in his neck and beginning to leave light kisses. He lets out a small moan and leans his face down to mine, capturing my lips in a soft kiss. He then picks his head back up sitting it on top of my head. “I’m a little too tired tonight babe.” I let out a sigh of frustration.

I love Matt, so much. But we’ve been together for years and haven’t fucked yet. I’ve even begged him, and every time he turns me down. Yet always teasing with passionate make out sessions. The only thing I’ve fucked at this point is myself during masturbation. My body literally screams for release at this point. “ima go to the bathroom. Be right back.” He lets me up and I climb out of bed.

I head down the hallway in the pitch darkness, I can’t see shit. This causing me to walk straight into something. At first I thought my lack of sight caused me to hit a wall. I heard a chuckle. God damn it. “I see you’re still blind to where you’re going. Matt still not keeping you out of my way.” I could feel his eyes on me, staring daggers. I then feel his finger tips lightly graze my cheek before disappearing. I felt his presence walk around me to continue his way. “Do better at being conscious of your surrounding princess.”

I stood there, face flushed and heat running through my body from the weird yet gentle contact. What just happened? I shake it off and continued my way to the bathroom.

Chris:

I have no idea what came over me to make that gesture towards her. Or to say what I just said. Can’t take it back now though. Why is she always here? Does she not have a home to go back to? It’s really finally getting to me at this point. Being around her is unbearable. Knowing she belongs to Matt and not being able to do anything about it, or be able to have my way with her how I’d like to.

I know they haven’t done anything together. Which is insane. Every time I try to ask him about it he completely avoids the question. I can’t say I haven’t thought about it myself. Imagining fucking my brothers long term girlfriend before he even does. The thought alone is exhilarating and it takes everything I have to not turn around right now and follow her to the bathroom. Pushing her up against the door, trapping her and having my way. Pleasuring her in a way she hasn’t been pleasured by another human. Being the one to take her virginity from her. I can feel the heat rush to my penis as I’m laying in my bed. I really wanted to go to Nicks room to sleep but I can’t in this state. Looks like I’m sleeping alone tonight.

The next morning I’m walking down the hall to head to the shower. As I pass by Matts room, his door is slightly ajar, just enough for me to see part way in. I was going to walk straight by, but then I saw her. Her silhouette. I stopped in my tracks looking in just far enough from the door that she wouldn’t notice me. I watched as she lifted her shirt over her head, revealing her perky breasts. Her nipples getting hard from the lack of warmth that was once covering her chest 5 seconds ago. I could already feel myself starting to get hard. I looked at her smooth legs as she began to pull down her pajama shorts. Her long hair swaying down as she holds them to step out. Fuck, I gotta get out of here. I get to the bathroom and jump in the shower to release myself from the discomfort in my pants.

That night Matt leaves to head out of town. He had some event he needed to go to. I was sitting in my room playing video games and listening to music. Then a thought suddenly crossed my mind. This is my chance and I can’t take this anymore.

I get up and walk quietly to Matts room. The light was already off meaning she was in bed. I walk to the door and slowly push it open, shutting it silently behind me. I tiptoe over to the bed and pull back the covers slipping in. She was facing the other way so I took the opportunity to slip my arm around her waist and pull her close. She made a soft moan at the intimate contact. “Matt? I thought you left what are you doing here?”

Not answering I pulled her tighter to me, leaning down to land small kisses on her neck. She let out another small moan. God that sound is amazing. My kisses slowly started to become harder bit by bit, turning into small bites in between kisses. She moaned again this time moving herself closer to me, letting her ass push back into my groin. I made a small grunt at the tension between the fabrics of our clothes. I run my hand down her side landing on her hip, squeezing it. She turns her head to face me. Thank god it was too dark for her to see it was me. She leans in for a passionate kiss, moving her hand up behind my head deepening the contact.

I let my hand start to sneak down her side more, rubbing down and back up her thigh, inching closer to her warmth landing on her inner thigh. I start to pull one of her legs up opening her for me. My hand runs higher up her thigh an inch away from her now. She lets out a slower, louder moan. “What are you doing?” She parts our lips just enough to whisper, I can still feel her mouth brushing mine. “Don’t worry baby, just let me make you feel good.” I whisper back. Luckily mine and Matts voices sound just enough alike that she doesn’t question anything. My hand moves up, running a finger down her fold through her underwear. She gasps against my lips and turns her head back the other direction, laying it against to nape of my neck. I begin to rub gentle slow circles around her clit. The sweet sound that escaped her mouth pushed me over the edge.

I turn her over and climb on top of her. One hand by her head and one reaching back down. I run my fingers on the line of her underwear, hooking one in and pulling them down. She immediately obliged and lifter hips to help me remove them. God she has been craving this. I can just tell by her haste movements.

My fingers returning to her pussy, I continue to rub circles on her clit again. “Ugghh yes” She moans into my mouth. “Does that feel good sweetheart?” I speak against her lips. “Yes. Please more.” She grabs the back of my neck to pull me closer. I slip a finger inside her, being careful not to hurt her. “Let me know if anything is uncomfortable” I felt her nod against my face. After a minute I slip in another finger. She moaned again, arching her back into my touch. “Fuck me”

I smirk into her mouth knowing she has no idea. It turned me on more. I leaned up to remove my pants and boxers. I move my lips down to her neck as I position my tip against her pussy. She sucked in a deep breath, her nails digging into my shoulders. “You ready baby?” I ask, fully ready to thrust into her. I have to remind myself to go slow when she sighs out a yes.

I gently start to push into her bit by bit. I heard a whimper come out of her and stopped. “You okay?” She nodded “Yeah, please don’t stop.”

I started moving again, finally in her I groaned. I sat there for a moment waiting for her to make the first move. After a few seconds she grinded into me, granting me permission to move. And god did I move. I started with small thrusts, her small moans hitting my ears, causing me to groan and moan.

 She arched into me giving me the go to which was all I needed. With that, I moved faster. Pulling completely out at one point to slam into her. A loud moan escaped her and I kept going. “Harder!” She almost screamed. “You got it ma”

I went harder, I went faster. “Oh god I’m gunna cum! Don’t stop! Oh god!” I somehow went even harder, if possible. I could feel my own release coming on. “Oh fuck” I let out a loud groan. “Fuck, yes, please, yeeesss!”

I felt her walls tense up around me and her legs shake a little, letting me know she was on her release. “Just hold on baby, ride this out with me” After another minute I pulled out, cumming onto her stomach. My hands land on either side of her head, I pant trying to catch my breath. Her arms are wrapped under mine, clutching onto my shoulders from the back as she also tries to regulate her breathing. “Fuck, finally.” She breathes out. I chuckle over her.

I stand to grab a towel from Matts closet to clean her off, tossing is to the floor after wards. Climbing back into bed with her, I wrap my arms back around her waist pulling her into me again.

Part of me is actually terrified how this is going to go from this point. I’m definitely not leaving this bed tonight though. Her reaction is going to be priceless when she wakes up in the morning to no one laying next to her.

I wake up the next morning early enough to move back to my own bed. Maybe an hour or two later I hear the front door open and steps moving on the stairs making their way to Matts room. I assume he plopped himself right on the bed next to her, she’s fully naked, a cum drenched towel on the floor next to her.

To my surprise nothing happened. What the hell? There’s no way she wasn’t confused right now.

[eddiediazbuck]

Home - Eddie Diaz

Eddie Diaz x reader

I slammed the door behind me, my hands trembling with a mixture of anger and frustration. Tears blurred my vision as I fumbled with my keys, trying to steady my breath. Brandon's voice echoed in my head, his harsh words cutting deeper than any physical wound. This wasn't how it was supposed to be; we were supposed to have a future together. But now, all I felt was an overwhelming sense of betrayal and loss.

I managed to start the car, my mind racing with thoughts of where to go. I couldn't go to Buck's place—my brother, Evan Buckley, had enough on his plate without me adding to it. Plus, I couldn't bear the thought of him seeing me like this, so broken and vulnerable. There was only one other person I could think of, despite our recent argument: Eddie Diaz.

My hands were still shaking as I drove through the streets of Los Angeles. The city lights blurred into a kaleidoscope of colors, and I could barely focus on the road. Eddie and I had fought a few days ago, and we hadn't spoken since. I knew showing up at his door might not go over well, but I didn't have any other options. Eddie had always been there for me, and despite our fight, I hoped he wouldn't turn me away.

When I pulled up to Eddie's house, I hesitated for a moment, staring at the front door. Memories of our argument flashed through my mind, and I almost turned back. But then I remembered the look on Brandon's face, the way he had dismissed me, and my resolve hardened. I needed someone, and Eddie was the only one I trusted right now.

I took a deep breath and rang the doorbell, my heart pounding in my chest. The cool night air did little to calm my nerves as I waited, each second feeling like an eternity. Finally, the door opened, and Eddie stood there, his expression a mix of surprise and concern. He looked tired, like he hadn't slept well in days, a stark contrast to the steady, calm demeanor I knew so well. I realized I must look a mess—my tear-streaked face and disheveled hair a testament to the emotional storm I had just weathered.

"Y/N?" he said, his voice softening as he took in my appearance.

I swallowed hard, trying to steady my voice. "I'm sorry, Eddie," I choked out, the words catching in my throat. "I had nowhere else to go."

Without a word, Eddie stepped aside, a silent invitation that spoke volumes. As soon as I crossed the threshold, the dam broke, and I collapsed into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. Eddie held me tightly, his strong arms providing the comfort I so desperately needed.

"Come here," he whispered, his voice soothing and gentle. "It's okay. You're safe now."

Eddie led me to the living room, his hand never leaving mine. The familiar warmth of his home enveloped me, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling inside my head. He guided me to the couch, sitting me down gently before heading to the kitchen. I heard the soft clink of a glass and the rush of water from the tap. Moments later, he returned with a glass of water, pressing it into my hands.

"Drink," he said softly. "It'll help."

I took a sip, the cool liquid soothing my parched throat. Eddie sat down beside me, his presence a steadying force. He didn't press me for details, didn't demand an explanation. He just sat there, his hand resting on my back, rubbing gentle circles as I tried to pull myself together.

"I don't know what to do," I whispered, staring at the floor. The reality of the situation weighed heavily on me, and I felt utterly lost.

"We'll figure it out," Eddie said firmly. 

--- --- ---- --- 

After what felt like hours, my tears finally subsided, replaced by an overwhelming exhaustion. Eddie handed me a tissue, and I wiped my face, feeling a mix of embarrassment and relief. The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from the table lamp casting gentle shadows on the walls. I glanced around, trying to ground myself in the familiar surroundings of Eddie's living room.

"I'm sorry," I repeated, my voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to apologize," Eddie replied, his eyes filled with concern. He reached out, placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. "Do you want to talk about what happened?"

I hesitated, the memories of my argument with Brandon still raw and painful. But looking into Eddie's eyes, I saw nothing but genuine concern and understanding. Taking a deep breath, I began to recount the events of the evening, my voice trembling as I relived the harsh words and the final, crushing blow that had sent me running.

Eddie listened quietly, his expression growing more serious with each passing moment. He didn’t interrupt, didn’t offer hollow reassurances or try to solve the problem immediately. He simply listened, his presence a steady anchor in the storm of my emotions.

When I finished, he sighed deeply, shaking his head. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. You don't deserve any of that," he said, his voice filled with conviction.

"I just... I don't know what to do," I admitted, feeling the weight of my situation pressing down on me. The reality of having no place to call home, of being untethered and adrift, was suffocating.

Eddie took my hand, his grip warm and reassuring. "You can stay here as long as you need to. We'll figure this out together. You're not alone in this."

I felt a wave of gratitude wash over me, but there was also a lingering doubt. "I don't want to be a burden, Eddie. You've already done so much."

"You're not a burden," he said firmly. "You're my friend, and I care about you. We'll get through this."

Eddie showed me to the guest room, a cozy space with soft blue walls and a neatly made bed. It was clear he had taken care to make it welcoming, and I felt a pang of emotion at his thoughtfulness.

"Get some rest," he said, standing in the doorway. "We'll talk more in the morning."

"Thank you, Eddie," I said, my voice breaking slightly. "For everything."

He gave me a gentle smile. "Anytime, Y/N. Goodnight."

As he closed the door, I felt a sense of calm begin to settle over me. I changed into the pajamas Eddie had laid out, and slipped under the covers. The bed was warm and comfortable, and despite everything, I felt a sense of security here. It wasn't long before exhaustion claimed me, and I drifted off into a deep, dreamless sleep.

--- --- --- --- 

I woke the next morning to the smell of coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. For a moment, I forgot where I was, but then the memories of the previous night came flooding back. I took a deep breath and got out of bed, determined to face the day.

In the kitchen, Eddie was making breakfast. He looked up and smiled when he saw me. "Good morning. How did you sleep?"

"Better than I expected," I admitted, taking a seat at the table. "Thank you for everything."

"You're welcome," he said, placing a plate of scrambled eggs and toast in front of me. "I thought we could eat and then maybe talk about what's next."

I nodded, grateful for his calm, practical approach. As we ate, the conversation flowed easily, and I felt some of the tension begin to ease. Eddie had a way of making things seem less daunting, and for the first time in days, I felt a glimmer of hope.

After breakfast, we moved to the living room. Eddie handed me a cup of coffee and sat down beside me, his expression serious but kind.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked gently.

I took a deep breath, trying to organize my thoughts. "I need to find a new place to live, and probably a new job. I can't go back to the apartment I shared with Brandon, and I don't want to stay with Buck. He'd worry too much."

Eddie nodded, his eyes thoughtful. "I understand. But you don't have to rush into anything. Take some time to figure things out. You can stay here as long as you need to."

His words were a lifeline, and I clung to them gratefully. "Thank you, Eddie. I don't know what I would have done without you."

He smiled, a warm, reassuring smile that made my heart feel lighter.

--- --- --- ---

Over the next few days, I settled into a routine at Eddie's house. He continued to go to work at the fire station, and I spent my days looking for apartments and updating my resume. It was a slow process, but having a safe place to stay made all the difference.

Eddie and I fell into an easy rhythm, our earlier argument forgotten in the face of more pressing concerns. In the evenings, we cooked dinner together and talked about our days. The familiarity and comfort of these moments began to heal the wounds of the past.

One evening, as I was sitting on the couch, Christopher came up to me, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Y/N, can we make dinner for Dad tonight?" he asked.

I smiled, touched by his eagerness. "Of course, Christopher. What do you want to make?"

Christopher's eyes lit up. "Dad loves spaghetti and meatballs! Can we make that?"

"Absolutely," I replied, standing up. "Let's get started."

We headed to the kitchen, and I began gathering the ingredients. Christopher followed closely, his excitement palpable. I handed him a small apron, which he eagerly put on, and together we started the prep work.

"Okay, Christopher," I said, setting a cutting board in front of him. "You can help me with the garlic. We need to peel it first."

Christopher nodded, his hands steady and sure as he worked on the garlic cloves. I was impressed by his determination and focus. Despite his cerebral palsy, Christopher had an incredible spirit and a willingness to try new things.

As we worked, I showed him how to mix the ground beef with the breadcrumbs, egg, and seasonings for the meatballs. He watched intently, mimicking my movements with a concentration that was both endearing and impressive.

"Now, we roll the mixture into balls like this," I explained, demonstrating the motion. "Can you try?"

Christopher nodded, carefully rolling a meatball and placing it on the tray. "Like this?"

"Exactly like that," I praised, giving him an encouraging smile. "You're doing great."

With the meatballs ready, we moved on to the sauce. I let Christopher stir the pot, his face glowing with pride as he watched the ingredients blend together. His joy was infectious, and I found myself smiling just as widely.

As we finished preparing the meal, the kitchen filled with the delicious aroma of tomato sauce and garlic. Christopher and I set the table, placing a small vase of flowers in the center as a finishing touch.

When Eddie walked in the door, he was greeted by the sight of his son and me standing proudly in the kitchen, our faces flushed with accomplishment.

"Wow, what's going on here?" Eddie asked, his eyes twinkling with amusement and curiosity.

"We made dinner for you, Dad!" Christopher exclaimed, rushing over to hug him.

Eddie looked at me, his eyes softening with gratitude. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"It was all Christopher's idea," I replied, giving the boy a wink. "He wanted to surprise you."

Eddie ruffled Christopher's hair affectionately. "Well, I am definitely surprised. And it smells amazing. Let's eat!"

After dinner, once Christopher was tucked into bed, Eddie and I found ourselves on the porch again, sipping tea and watching the stars. The silence between us was comfortable, filled with unspoken understanding.

"Thank you for tonight," Eddie said, breaking the silence. "Christopher had a great time, and the dinner was amazing."

"It was my pleasure," I replied, smiling. "Christopher is a wonderful kid. He's so determined and full of life."

Eddie nodded, his eyes reflecting a mix of pride and love. "He's my everything. And you've been so good with him. It means a lot to me."

"I care about both of you," I admitted, feeling my heart swell with emotion. "Being here, spending time with you and Christopher... it feels right."

Eddie reached out, taking my hand in his. The gesture was simple, yet it spoke volumes. "It feels right to me too," he said softly. "I'm glad you're here, Y/N."

--- --- --- --- 

As the days passed, Christopher's fondness for Y/N only seemed to grow deeper. He looked forward to their cooking sessions with an eagerness that warmed Eddie's heart. But beneath his cheerful demeanor, Eddie sensed a growing unease in his son.

One evening, as they sat down for dinner, Christopher seemed unusually quiet. He picked at his food, his usual enthusiasm replaced by a somber expression.

"Is everything okay, buddy?" Eddie asked, concern lacing his voice.

Christopher hesitated, glancing at Y/N before turning back to his plate. "I... I heard you and Y/N talking earlier," he admitted quietly.

Eddie exchanged a glance with Y/N, feeling a pang of guilt for discussing their plans in front of Christopher. "We were just talking about some things, Chris. Nothing to worry about."

But Christopher shook his head, his eyes welling up with tears. "I don't want Y/N to leave," he confessed, his voice trembling. "I don't want things to go back to how they were before."

Eddie's heart broke at his son's words. He reached out, pulling Christopher into a tight hug. "Oh, buddy. I know it's scary to think about Y/N leaving, but we'll figure things out together, okay? We'll make sure she's okay."

Christopher nodded, but Eddie could see the fear and uncertainty lingering in his eyes. He glanced at Y/N, silently pleading for her understanding.

After dinner, once Christopher had been tucked into bed, Eddie and Y/N found themselves on the porch again, the air heavy with the weight of Christopher's worries.

"I'm sorry he overheard our conversation," Eddie said, his voice heavy with guilt. "I didn't want him to worry."

"It's okay," Y/N replied softly, her eyes filled with empathy.

Eddie sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I just don't want him to feel like he's losing someone else, you know? He's been through so much already."

Y/N reached out, placing a comforting hand on Eddie's arm. "He won't lose me, Eddie. I promise. Even if I have to leave, I'll always be here for him. For both of you."

Eddie looked at her, his heart overflowing with gratitude. "Thank you, Y/N. That means more to me than you'll ever know."

--- --- --- ---

As Eddie sat on the porch with Y/N, her reassuring words echoed in his mind. He knew she meant them—that she would always be there for him and Christopher, no matter what. And in that moment, a realization dawned on him.

"Y/N," Eddie began, turning to face her, his expression earnest. "I've been thinking a lot about what you said earlier. About always being here for Christopher and me."

Y/N looked at him, her eyes filled with curiosity and warmth. "Yes?"

"I don't want you to leave," Eddie admitted, his voice thick with emotion. "I don't want Christopher to feel like he's losing someone else. And I... I don't want to lose you either."

Y/N's hand tightened on his arm, her gaze unwavering. "Eddie..."

He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. "Y/N, will you move in with us? With me and Christopher? I want you to be a part of our family, officially."

The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Eddie held his breath, waiting for Y/N's response, his heart pounding in his chest.

Y/N's eyes widened in surprise, her hand moving to cover her mouth. Tears shimmered in her eyes as she nodded, unable to find her voice.

Eddie's heart swelled with relief and joy. He reached out, taking her hand in his, the warmth of her touch grounding him in the moment.

"Y/N," he whispered, his voice filled with love. "Thank you. Thank you for saying yes."

Y/N threw her arms around him, pulling him into a tight embrace. "Of course, Eddie. I love you both so much. I want to be with you, always."

In that moment, as they held each other close, Eddie knew that their family was complete. With Y/N by his side, he felt like they could face anything that life threw their way. And as they watched the stars twinkle in the night sky, he felt a sense of peace settle over him—a certainty that no matter what challenges lay ahead, they would overcome them together, as a family.

[ghouldtime]

Alone. Truly Alone. Chapter Three.

Johnny didn't want someone who asked questions - to him, anyways. That didn't mean you wouldn't try to get your own answers

💀💀💀💀💀💀💀💀

Johnny (he insisted you call him that after you very reluctantly agreed to his deal, stating that "John" was too formal) didn’t need someone who asked questions. Asking questions meant thinking and thinking meant trouble. He didn’t need someone asking anything about the man framed in the only picture he had, nor did he need to be questioned on why there was an uncanny frakensteined monster that bore that very person's resemblance living in an abandoned military facility. 

Of course, you’d still think of those questions. Anyone with a single braincell and any scrap of common sense would. You’d think about them until your brain melted and oozed out your ears as they ceaselessly tore at your mind, lingering on the edges of every other thought you had.

Asking him at this point though wouldn't get you anywhere, aside from maybe in a hospital bed. Pushing the already probably mentally unstable man further when he clearly had a whole storm brewing behind those distant blue eyes was a flat out stupid idea. When someone carried such a beastly burden day in and out, adding even a feather to the weight they carried could cause them to snap. If you wanted answers, you’d have to play it smart and ride the sands of time until the tempest faded into a mild breeze, taking the pressure that ceaselessly weighed him down with it.

Besides, you didn’t want to look a gift horse in the mouth and do anything to cost you your newfound side job that rolled into your lap when you needed it most. You needed it and the money almost as much as Johnny needed you.

Aside from a wonderful therapist, what Johnny needed was someone to run some errands for him.  The way he phrased it could’ve made it seem almost normal. Almost. He just needed you to sometimes pick things up and drop things off for him - things he said he didn't have time to do.

Before you could even begin to regret agreeing or start gathering the courage to start verbalizing anything, another $100 was shoved in your awaiting hands the second he summoned you to his house once more not even two days later, effectively tying your tongue in a knot and forcing you to swallow anything that threatened to rise up back into the pit of your stomach where it belonged.

"You're certainly a wonderful sight for sore eyes" Johnny said as he held the door open for you, the lopsided grin that stretched slightly too far for comfort donning his face.

Underneath your fingertips, the crinkle of the crisp bill he'd shoved in your hands offered an ounce of comfort and familiarity as you stepped into the haphazard blend of the contrasting house. Once again, the overpowering stench of bleach reached your nose, causing it to wrinkle as your eyes watered. The soapy, pungent basic scent of unnaturally clean stood as far too much, like he had just scrubbed every single nearby surface with it twice.

Holding your breath just enough to make it through the hallway without burning your lungs, the shaky exhale that escaped you when you reached the kitchen was anything but certain, unlike the man who lead the way with a spring in his step.

"How 'bout a cuppa?" He offered as he gestured for you to sit in one of the uncomfortable, cheap, ugly modern chairs that lined the matching too sleek table.

Though the thought of something to drink was a nice gesture and tempted your slightly parched throat, it wasn't one you could accept. Drinking something from his house, even if he made it in front of you, had you on hesitate as uncertainty made itself known in the way your stomach twisted. Sure, it might give you something to sip on and take away from your nerves - but you didn't know what he'd consider normal or what he could put in it.

"Thanks, but no thank you. I'm good." You declined, your brows knitting together the smallest bit as your hands locked together, a closed-lipped smile donned your features as a polite peace offering.

Johnny simply tipped his head and shrugged in a 'suit yourself' gesture as he turned his back to you and took ahold of the kettle. "Maybe one day you'll come 'round to it. The Brits are wrong on many things but tea isn't one of them." He noted while he filled the blue metal device to the brim before setting it unceremoniously on the stove.

Humming in a truly neutral agreement that could be taken either way, you chose not to say anything in addition. A steady, rhythmic clicking broke through the silence before the gentle whoosh of the flames igniting quieted the air once more.

Johnny busied himself around the countertop and the island, whistling an off-tune song you couldn't quite recognize. While you weren't sure what song it was, there was no denying that his tone was off. Whether that was on purpose or not, you had no idea, but it made your skin crawl. A grimace crossed your features when the continual bad intonation didn't get any better. Why couldn't he have at least picked something to be on pitch with?

Thankfully the half-cringe that passed upon your face went unnoticed as he began searching through the orange toned cabinets and drawers at his own leisurely pace.

Naturally, your eyes were drawn to the man as he worked in his element. Your own natural curiosity tugged on the little part of your brain that egged you on to watch and try to figure out what he was doing. The weight of the world might have rested on his shoulders, judging by the slight tension he always held in his muscles and the lines carved deep into his face after many sleepless nights, but he didn't show it elsewhere.

He moved about as if the burden he carried were nothing more than a backpack, an annoyance that could eventually be shed. If you were able to look at his face closer, you're sure the shadows of dark bags would line underneath his eyes, darkening his features as if trying to externally express the gloom he felt.

To see that meant you'd have to look him in the eyes, though. You're not sure you were ready to meet the intensity of his head-on gaze again, or have to explain why you were staring. Blinking out of your stupor, you snapped your gaze to the tiled floor, trying to find something else to draw your attention.

The too stark, too barren kitchen loomed around you at all angles and provided no relief or point of interest. Looking anywhere else did little to help your nerves and thoughts alike when the clashing gaudiness of the wallpaper and the modern furniture greeted you no matter where you turned your eyes.

No matter what, you most certainly didn't want to look at the one picture on the wall - the one that reminded you of the thing you'd seen.

Though the man in the picture wasn't nearly as monstrous and had all the correct, human proportions (in the right number too, mind you), taking a single glance made your stomach churn. Sheer, primal dread and horror weren't an easy feeling to shake, especially when you caught glimpses of it every time you so much as turned your head to the side.

When he finally started talking again, a silent breath of relief escaped you as you relaxed marginally, thanking all heavens above he gave focus on other than the solitary portrait that hung on the empty wall.

"You don't know how... how happy I am."

Metallic clattering rang out as he shut yet another drawer before the one beside it was squeaked open from the rattling force. Though he spoke aloud, you weren't sure if he was more talking to himself or to you.

You didn't dare to breathe a word when he seemed to have paused for a moment, muttering something under his breath before he shut that drawer too and opened a cabinet below. "... to finally have someone to help me." He added as an afterthought as he popped back up, a small, rusted metal box in his hand.

Clunking against the counter as he gingerly placed it down, the rusty hinges squeaked in protest as he popped the lid, inspecting the mysterious contents with scrutinizing, unblinking eyes before he nodded to himself, clamping the lid shut once more before you had a chance to see what was in it.

"Things have been..." He trailed off with a small, dismissive circle of his hand as he turned his back to you again, upper cabinets flying open as he dug through the few items precariously perched in there once more.

He didn't continue his sentence, shaking his head to himself, the words he refused to speak evaporating into thin air. The grip you had on your own hands tightened as you bit your tongue - you weren't going to pry. No questions, you reminded yourself, as your mind filled in the blanks with many words that it raced to think of to finish his sentence for him.

Difficult? Terrible? Agonizing? Stressful? You're sure you could place them all on a Bingo card and score instantly.

No matter how much you wanted to ask, wanted to figure out what was going on, you weren't going to ask. You couldn't. The fragile balance that hung in the silence of the air depended on it.

Johnny seemed to like talking to himself anyhow, even if it was filled with beats and pauses and half finished sentences to match. It's like he either expected interjection or didn't know how to talk after having spent so much time alone.

"Ever since the exp- accident," He corrected himself in such a rush you didn't catch what he almost said, "Haven't been able to do nearly all of what I wanted."

Johnny didn't give you a chance to think about it as he huffed, his shoulders sagging, “Cannot drive anymore.” He spoke in a rougher grit, nodding to his missing left arm.

Frustration wrote itself all over his face in the unmistakable narrowing of his eyes and the tension held in his shoulders increasing tenfold as a scowl crossed his features. But like everything else with him, it hardly lasted a few noticeable seconds before the grin that was all too theatric made its appearance once more. “Unless you want to see the gas station version of Fast and Furious: Tokyo Drift, I wouldn't let me get behind a wheel.” 

His warm, mirth filled chuckle and toothy smile could almost be mistaken as genuine if he weren't staring right through you with a certainty that made your hackles raise. "That's where you come in. Real life saver, you are." He noted as he finally found what he was searching for, depositing it in a drawstring bag alongside the metal container.

Just in time, the kettle whistled a shrill pitchy noise. Steam billowed out of the small opening. Like a dog drawn to the beck and call of its owner, he trotted right on over to it, pouring it into a metal thermos he already had set aside in his impromptu kitchen rearranging spree.

Screwing the top on, he settled it in the bag before drawing it tight. Fabric cinched underneath the motion and, testing it to be sure nothing would spill, he finally picked it up and promptly deposited it on your lap.

"Well, best be off with it then." He said as he clapped a hand on your shoulders, guiding you to your feet. You swallowed, already knowing where he was going to ask you to go. "If you're fast enough, the water will still be warm when you get back if you change your mind on having a proper cuppa."

Going there in the evening light proved to be significantly less unnerving than visiting in the pitch blackness of the night. Considering you at least could see a hair better and knew what to expect as far as the layout go, it eased your nerves but the constant unsettled feeling remained on your shoulders as an unseen weight all the same.

On one hand, you now knew what was lurking in the dark. On the other hand, you now knew what was lurking. With six arms, three heads, and enough eyes to see into the past, present, and future at the same time, jumping to meet it again wasn't on the top of your to-do list.

Unlike the first time, though, it was a quick in and out. That was the mantra you repeated to yourself as you exited your car, crawling back in the small opening in the rusted, chain link fence. In and out. You'd be done before you knew it.

The steady thump of your heart against your ribs echoed far louder than any noise in the run-down facility as you trekked through the halls with careful steps. Every so often, you'd freeze and listen, looking for any clues of the thing - the very thing you were here to deliver a bag to.

You don't know why exactly Johnny wanted you to do this so bad or what he included in the very item you carried close to your chest. If he was trying to feed you to the monster, he was doing a piss poor job at it. And if it were something elicit, then why on earth would it involve a thermos of hot water?

Those questions were shoved to the back of your mind as you heard a small clink down one of the halls - a noise that sounded like metal on metal.

Goosebumps prickled your arms as your body froze. Placing the bag down next to the wall on a drop spot you, for once, listened to your heart and bolted.

You didn't wait around to see if the thing was lurking around the corners, watching your every move. You didn't want to see if it felt friendly today. In and out. You're just here to do your job - not here to be eaten.

True to his word, the water was still warm by the time you returned to collect your payment. Not that you were going to have any of the tea he offered, but it meant the job was done and you now had enough money to soothe your erratically beating heart as you justified your (probable) bad decisions.

Johnny was all smiles as he thanked you earnestly, ignorant to your internal plight. His earnest words that paired with his glee of, "Have an evening as lovely as yourself," lingered on in the air, going unanswered as you took your money and hurried off back to your dwelling.

Not wanting to deal with any more questions or thoughts regarding it or anything around it for the night, the TV went on the moment you got home. White noise filled the space as its distant chatter reverberated, the familiar flashing lights of the flickering screen soothing you as it wrapped around your senses like a warm blanket on a cold day.

Scarfing down your dinner, you settled on the couch for the night, letting the noise of the television lull you to sleep instead of your own mind.

Sleep held you as long as it could in its embrace as you dozed away, but it could only do so much to keep you down when an all too loud text pinged on your phone. Cursing yourself for not having put it on Do Not Disturb, you blearily blinked at the illuminated screen.

Blocky letters shone 5:15 am on the lock screen, yet another groan escaping you. It's too early for this. Setting it down for another moment as you squinted, you rubbed your eyes with the heel of your palm as you slowly came to your senses.

Focusing on the name would be fruitless when you already mentally calculated who would have the audacity and the lack of common sense to text you this early.

"Morning bonnie :), up for another task?"

No wonder he seemed so exhausted all the time, you mentally groused as you reluctantly went through your morning routine at none too fast of a pace. Anyone who woke up at the ass crack of dawn had the right to be. There's plenty of other things weighing him down but right now, all you could think of was how it was too damn early for this.

Even though it was too early, far too early for your taste to be doing anything, Johnny was all smiles as you pulled up, as if he'd already been up for hours and was almost happy about it.

This time, he wasn't fumbling through anything or assembling things together. Sitting on the old, creaky rocking chair on the porch, he already had a bag beside him. The worn canvas rucksack was considerably larger than the drawstring he'd had you take the day prior.

"Good morning." He greeted from the small landing as you sauntered out of your car, the usually present smile that put the pink lights of dawn to shame held itself upon his fine features once more. "Know I already said morning, but wasn't good til I saw you."

The warm, blush colors of the sunrise matched your cheeks perfectly as the familiar heat of a flush rose upon you in a matching warmth of the early morning's rays. It's too early for this....

Handing the bag off to you, his eyes followed your every movement once more as you took it from him into your grasp. "Same place as last time." He instructed without another word more.

The thermos settled on the side of the bag radiated warmth as it settled against your skin as you balanced the luggage out in your arms. How you wished you could feel the same warmth all over as you lay buried in your bed, dozing underneath your fluffy blankets as you should've been at this time.

Nodding, you offered a strained smile, ignoring how his fingers drummed in rapid succession on the armrest of the chair. "Got it." Was all you said before you turned on your heels before you could second guess what you were doing.

The third time through the building proved to somehow be even easier. Maybe it was the sleep deprivation or irritation that ebbed away the nerves that normally had you hesitating, but you carried on through the same path you'd trekked twice prior.

Exactly as Soap instructed, you went to set the bag down right where you had prior. Except when you got there, you froze.

There on the ground lay the same thermos you saw him fill and the deflated, compacted form of the drawstring bag. Folded with precision, the bag lay pinned by the thermos, as if it had been placed with delicate intent in mind.

Swallowing back the sudden dryness of your mouth, the small steps you took towards it now took longer than ever before. As if it may burn you, your hands shook as you held your breath when you reached out to grasp them. The light weight of the metal bottle shouldn't have caught you off guard, but it did. Whatever did this - no, whoever, clearly had great control of themselves.

It couldn't have been that thing, right? That was a monster, a beast. Maybe it was someone else - someone else here who he was helping.

You didn't want to think about it too hard or the implications of it. Taking a deep breath, you choked down your nerves and snatched up the bag and empty bottle before depositing the rucksack.

Looking back wasn't even a thought that crossed your mind as you hightailed it out of there, your mind racing faster than your feet.

By the time you returned to Johnny's house and rang the bell, he'd already taken a shower. The fresh scent of his cologne clung to his skin as he opened the door, the overgrown shag of his mohawk curled on the very fringes with dampness.

"Back so soon?" He asked, arching an inquisitive brow, his attention focused on the lines of your face the second you appeared.

Though you tried to hide the small tremors and the paleness of your features as your mind and heart raced despite the contrast of your feet rooted in place.

"Christ alive, everything alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." He asked as he tilted his head.

Alright? Alright?? How could it be alright when now for sure you knew that something, something possibly intelligent, was there. The thing you've brought something too held life, conscious thought, and yet weathered away every day in that building.

Seeing the bag folded so neatly opened a pandora's box of questions that you don't think you could ignore for any longer, but you weren't going to spill that to him.

Hurrying out a nod, you forced a smile and cleared your throat, trying to get yourself to appear normal. "Y-yeah! Fine, I'm fine. Just uh... a bit tired! Not used to being up this early." You said, trying your damndest to play it off with an awkward chuckle.

Pleasebelieveitpleasebelieveitplease-

His eyes studied you, a frown pursing his lips as he once again searched right though your soul with those intense, blue eyes. For those few, tense moments, you swore he dug right into your mind, trying to find reasons to call you a liar as he sunk his claws in and tore.

Yet his gaze softened as he scratched the back of his neck, the smile turning sheepish. "Sorry - forgot not everyone is used to waking up before the sun. Old habits die hard." As if trying to make up for his 'mistake', he didn't wait a second as he fished out the $200 from his pocket - no envelope this time.

The bills made their way into your pocket as you snatched them up. "Thanks." You rushed out as you took a step back. Johnny arched a single brow as he just kept staring, as if expecting something.

You couldn't bring yourself to meet his acute gaze as he simply kept staring the same, scrutinizing look pinning you down from afar. Averting your eyes, your offered a half-there nod as you took another step back, "Anyways I uh, have a long day ahead."

Your mind wasn't really in putting together neat sentences as it kept circling back to seeing the bag and thermos set so nicely, so purposefully, as if awaiting someone to return to them.

Shit, right. The things. Shaking your head, you stiffened at your realization. "O-oh! Right, almost forgot." Pulling your own utilitarian bag off of your back, the sound of a zipper broke the hush of the early morning air. Revealing the still-folded bag and his bottle, you held it out for him to take.

Surprised wasn't the exact word you'd say described Johnny. Though his brows arched and his grin faltered for a split second into something much bigger, he held his position. The slight shake in his fingers as he plucked the items from your hands was palpable as was the breath he held as he turned them over, the pads of his fingers tracing them as his attention dragged downwards into the paltry weight of the objects themselves.

For a few reverent moments, his whole attention focused right on those items his gaze piercing through it. While you were thankful that attention was no longer on you, it didn't help the unease that always seemed to follow, remaining slung around your shoulders like an old, uncomfortable pal who made their appearance at the worst times. When you shifted from foot to foot, his eyes snapped right back up as he blinked out of his entranced daze.

"Right, I won't hold you any longer. Thank you again." He said, as he steadied himself with a deep breath, "I'll see you tomorrow."

You didn't have a chance to protest before he closed the door, leaving you standing right there on the now empty front porch.

Turns out, Johnny preferably needed you to go every day of the week to that place. You weren't sure how to feel after discovering the fact that the thing was probably intelligent and was indeed capable of such delicate tasks - but the money talked far louder than your hesitancy. It's a wonder he didn't run out of cash but hey, you weren't complaining. Sure, it wasn't ideal to go there and to keep questioning your sanity, but money talked. And what it was saying was "Keep doing what you're doing".

Though unease lingered in every one of your hairs that stood on end and the goosebumps that prickled your flesh every time you visited, it became significantly easier as you fell into a routine. Nothing would stop the way you always found yourself glancing down the dark hallways with wary shifts to the balls of your feet, ready to bolt at a moments notice, but you no longer had to look over your shoulder or halt in your movements every time you heard a small noise.

Johnny would either have you come by early morning or late evening, and would hand off a bag. Sometimes you'd talk to him a bit or more accurately, he'd talk and you'd listen as he packed the bag. You'd then take it, go right back into the abandoned fort, and trade it out with the bag always placed with such neat intent and now-empty thermos.

Now, anyone sane would've suspected something extremely suspicious, if not illegal. After all, who would pay vast amounts of money to drop off a full bag and pick the empty up if it weren't dealing with illegal substances?

Johnny. That's who.

Much to your surprise, everything was normal in every bag you brought - it always was. He'd pack them in front of you or if they were ready to go, they held the same, ordinary objects. Not to mention, you'd always double checked them just to be sure you weren't playing an unwitting part in some smuggling operation. You didn't always make the best decisions but you weren't stupid. Yet they were never abnormal.

No matter what, there'd always be a thermos of hot water and a sealed, labelless letter. Otherwise, it was a mixed bag, quite literally. Sometimes he'd thrown in a fleece or woolen blanket, other times some personal hygiene items, or board games or decks of cards, or even photographs and books. It didn't take long for you to realize that they were care packages meant for what- no, whoever was in there.

You weren't dealing with an it or a what or a that or a thing, it was a who. Someone who he clearly cared about and someone who you sincerely suspected was the man in the portrait or had been at some point in time.

The more days that you found yourself delivering yet another package, the more curious you found yourself - and the less fearful. After all, this was clearly a being who clung to some part of their humanity - someone capable of considerate actions and thoughts alike.

Frankly, it he never went after you in the first place. You'd realized that as you spent yet another night pondering in your bed, staring up at the ceiling. By all means, he could have attacked and killed you. He could have done that the moment it saw you for the first time and taken you by surprise in the Tartarean void that he called his home amidst the decaying walls.

He could've chased after you and snapped your neck before you had a chance to run for it. Hell, he could easily ambush you as you dropped off the daily supplies. And he could probably do it all without flinching or missing a single beat, as if he were completing a task as simple as fetching the morning paper.

But he didn't. He never even came closer. You hadn't seen him since the first night. Instead, the only trace you ever saw that he was by was the neatly placed bags and the empty thermos, always properly set up.

No monster would do that. No true monster would have those manners or such a capability, unless it was playing the long haul to gain your trust before it feasted. But that would've been long, long ago.

You didn't know what to make of it. And you knew Johnny would be no help, as many thoughts as he had. Not once had he ever brought the beast up - nor did you. Talk around him was something you both danced around, never quite getting to it.

That didn't stop you from doing your job as kept on delivering all the same. You knew better than to ask who this being was to him beyond someone he'd very likely known - and known well. He wouldn't be ready to admit that. No matter how many times you caught him staring at the sole portrait that hung on the kitchen wall or smoothing his thumb over the silver cross that dangled around his neck, he never dare breathed a name.

Asking Johnny wouldn't help, so you figured you might as well bypass the middle man. Living in the dark was something you couldn't do anymore - and you're sure he (the temporarily nameless being that he was) would like to finally have some light shone on him for once. It was time to talk to the creature you'd tried to desperately avoid in the first place.

Finding him was out of the question. You most certainly weren't going to walk through the dingy, damp halls once more to throw yourself at him. You doubted he would want that either. Considering he hadn't been around, he likely valued some semblance of privacy.

He could read - you figured he could read. After all, Johnny had sent him many letters. If they remained unopened, you didn't know, but it didn't stop Johnny from writing them all the same. Before you could get ahead of yourself, though, you decided to try a simple trick.

Clinging to a whiteboard with one hand, bag in the other, you crawled through the dark halls you'd come to know like the back of your hand. You didn't need the headlamp anymore but it certainly helped when your eyes hadn't adjusted.

Setting the bag down in the usual drop-zone, you balanced the whiteboard on your thighs and uncapped an expo marker. The squeak of the black pen filled the air as you inhaled a slow breath, trying to calm the anxious, anticipatory beating of your heart.

"Hi! :) I'm -" You hesitated. Writing your name was a bad idea, especially when it was a place you weren't supposed to be. The last thing you needed was for anyone else to find it and track you down, as unlikely as that may be.

Settling on "A friend of your friend." You continued to write, " The one who has been bringing the bags. What's your name?"

Setting the board down and capping the marker once more, placing it just below, you took a step back. You didn't know for sure if he could write or read, but it was worth a shot and was better than nothing. The question wasn't revolutionary but if answered, you'd finally have an inkling of who you were dealing with and more importantly, a proper name to call him.

As you headed back to the exit once more, you glanced back for the first time. For some reason feeling a pang of disappointment you saw nothing lying in wait in the shadows and heard nothing to match. Shaking your head, you dismissed the ridiculous thought as you scampered off, taking the empty bag and thermos that had been left to hold up your usual part of the routine.

You'd never been particularly excited to go back, really just following through for the money (and maybe a scrap of pity for Johnny), but today your legs couldn't carry you fast enough through the halls as you came back. Pitter pattering in your chest, your heart hammered away on your ribs as the familiar burn of exertion tugged at your muscles but you refused to let it slow you down. If anything, it only fueled the burning desire to get there fast.

The moment the whiteboard entered your line of sight, you somehow picked up speed further before leaning into a sliding stop in front of it. A thump echoed as the bag fell from your hands, your breath catching as you stared at the sight that awaited you. Your eyes widened at the smudged ink and the one, half-shaky word scrawled underneath. A name.

Simon.

Rolling the name over and over in your mind until you surely wouldn't be able to ever forget it, you snapped a picture of the whiteboard so you'd have a piece of it forever. To finally know the name of the being you had delivered countless things to marked a huge step forwards. There were many, many things you wanted to ask but for now you knew one, very important thing.

His name was Simon.

You itched to write more, to ask him fifty million questions now that you knew he was human enough to answer, but you couldn't get ahead of yourself. Your hands trembled as you uncapped the marker, tracing each letter of his name with your finger as you erased it, the feel of the letters forever etching into your soul.

"Its nice to meet you Simon." You kept it simple to start as you pursed your lips, racking your brain for the proper route to go here.

How long had he been here? Did he know what day it was? Who was he to Johnny? Why was he here? How did he get like that? What does he eat? How does he eat? Why doesn't he -

No.

You weren't going to do that. No matter how much there was to learn, you couldn't force your thirst for knowledge onto him or overwhelm him with questions. Trust for those answers had to be earned, not given, if he was anything like most.

Considering that he likely hadn't had direct human contact and interaction in how long, being compassionate would do you well. Maybe you could earn his trust more by helping him out further and listening, even if you had yet to physically say a single word to one another.

"I'm sorry for running from you. I didn't expect anyone to be there." You continued, figuring an apology of any kind was overdue but a late one was better than none, "Is there anything I can get or bring for you to make you more comfortable?"

The apology wasn't the best or hell, even that great. Limited space on the small whiteboard, however, was quite a curse. And if he had any bit of humanity - the kind you had, he'd understand very well why you ran. Anyone would in your shoes. It wasn't anything personal but now knowing he had conscious thoughts, guilt gnawed at you.

Likely, you still would've run anyways, but when facing with the unknown and something as threatening appearing as him, it's better safe than sorry. He'd understand, right? You were just a human in the end. A human who had very human reactions in the face of danger.

Once more, you set the marker down and read over your words, double checking to make sure your spelling still held up and the words were big enough to discern. They weren't perfect, eloquent, or fantastic but they were a starting point and they were yours. That was good enough for now. Resisting the urge to linger in the hall, you capped the pen and made your way out of the building once more, following the same path you'd always taken, already yearning to turn back.

Thankfully, the night passed in the blink of an eye and lady luck decided to roll the ball in your court the next day as Johnny picked an early time. Your heart raced at the same rate as your body as you sprinted through the halls, all caution thrown to the wind that whipped over your head with the motions. Reminding yourself to at least set the bag down instead of throwing it, you glanced at the board, your eyes widening.

Scrawled in a much neater, larger handwriting that took up the board, your breath halted in your chest. The beating of your heart faded into a background hum as your blood ran cold, a pit growing and sinking in your stomach so fast its as if you swallowed lead.

There wasn't an item or thing requested. Underneath, just like the day before, there was a name. But it was a different one, one you had at the top of your contact lists.

Johnny.

જ⁀➴

His many clouded eyes had stared at the simple, innocent question written on the white board. They stared and stared, until even in his constantly unfeeling state, they ached with soreness around the edges.

Anything.

Such a word was the most dangerous thing you could've offered to a desperate man who had long since drowned in the rivers of despair. To you, it was probably nothing more than a simple considerate thought. To him, it was a lifeline being thrown out in a tsunami, offering a thin rope to pull him out of the impossibly huge wave that kept him down. Attempting to grab it and crawl out may be fruitless but without any options left, the slimmest chance of improbable survival was always better than none at all.

So he took the rope you threw him and clung until his nails dug in and all six of his hands were burned and his skin chaffed. He held it close, grappling it with every ounce of strength he had left, tying it in knots to cling on further to the chance that was being offered - to have the anything, the only thing, he needed more than the second chance at life he had been granted.

He knew deep down that it might be an impossible request to pull him out, to get him what he needed beyond anything else in this world, to fulfill the visceral yearning that scorched his soul and burnt him with red hot pokers every day in an otherwise numb existence.

But when he had nothing left, nothing at all aside from his miserable existence in this liminal purgatory, playing the only Hail Mary he clung onto now that he was given a chance was his own way of accepting the line which you threw him and pulling back as he desperately tried to grapple out.

After all, a dead man had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

His everything that now stood just on the horizon, so close he could almost see those beautiful blue eyes again and trace over the silver of a scar that split his brows once more.

[agenttommykinard]

💗 + buddietommy beloved?? 🥺💖

Maybe it was the almost dying part that sped run the confession, but laying here now in a bed that was almost too small, Eddie likes to believe that it was inevitable, that they were always meant to be here.

He's the most mobile of the three, his injuries the lightest and so Eddie is the one who is up to get pain pills when the alarm goes off. It's an easy trek to Tommy's kitchen, his home was all on one floor as well, easily accessable to anyone.

It's easily accesable to Chris.

The thought warms Eddie as he carefully grabs some water bottles. His bruised ribs didn't allow for much reach, and when Bobby had set them up for the week he made sure that everything would be easy.

On his way back to the bedroom, Eddie passes Tommy's cat who blinks up at him from her perch on the couch and he strokes her soft fur, enticing purrs.

"I'm taking care of him, Amelia," Eddie promises lightly. Amelia blinks at him with her big blue eyes and Eddie scratches beneath her chin. "I love them you know." She blinks at him and Eddie likes to think she understands that he means every word.

Eddie moves on into the bedroom and stops in the doorway to just look at the two men in the bed. Buck is tucked intowards Tommy, his legs tangled with the other's. His posture is careful, positioned in a way not to aggrivate his injuries. His breathing is even, something that is welcomed after hearing it rattle only a few days prior.

Next to Buck in the middle, Tommy is awake.

He looks over at Eddie, eyes softening when he sees Eddie in the doorway and the tense line of his shoulders relax some.

"You weren't here when I woke up," Tommy mumbles as Eddie gets closer. "I was worried-"

"I meant what I said back then," Eddie says. "You both make it out of there, and I won't let either of you go-" Eddie sits on the bed and grabs Tommy's hand in his own and squeezes it. "We're all here."

"Yeah-" Tommy croaks and Eddie opens one of the waterbottles and holds it to his lips, helping him to drink it carefully. When he isn't so parched, Eddie helps Tommy take one of his pain pills as well.

"Thanks," Tommy says, eyes shinning as he looks at Eddie. Buck had mentioned before how Tommy's gaze could be intense, and Eddie feels the weight of it now, but it isn't unwanted.

"Do the thing-" Eddie hears Buck mumble and he looks over to see Buck blinking awake with a small smile on his face.

"The thing?" Eddie asks, curious. Tommy is smiling now and Eddie feels two fingers tuck beneath his chin.

The kiss is gentle.

It still takes Eddie's breath away.

When Tommy parts he looks shy and behind him Buck is beaming, bright and happy with this developement. They had talked about it, back in the accident and then again in the hospital, about what this could mean for all three of them.

A part of Eddie just thought it would stay there, in empty promises said in the heat of the moment.

"My turn-" Eddie hears and before he realizes it, Buck is kissing him then, just as gentle as Tommy but a little different.

"You two are beautiful," Tommy says when they part. "How did I get so lucky?"

"Almost dying wasn't part of it," Buck says, eyes narrowed and Tommy sighs. "Seriously, you're not allowed to do that again Tommy."

"I'd do it again if it meant the both of you lived," Tommy retorts but the argument dies there. They've already dished most of this out at the hospital.

"I love both of you," Tommy adds softer and Buck seems to melt at that and goes to kiss Tommy this time and Eddie can't help but thing that the two of them were beautiful together as well.

"Let's just try and stay alive," Eddie moves closer so that he could grab both Buck and Tommy's hands. He feels more grounded here then he has in months, in this bed that barely fits the three of them.

"We should get a bigger bed," Buck says once they're all settled carefully into a cuddle again. "None of us are exactly small here."

"I'll look up some Alaskan kings," Tommy says. "Eddie what's your favorite color-" Tommy starts as he pulls out his phone, including Eddie immedietly into the conversation and Eddie lets the feeling of warmth wash over him from both Buck and Tommy's attention and love.

[darlingdarkly]

New Year, New You Part 7

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x f!reader

Personal Trainer AU

4.2k words

CW: dubcon!, dark fic, dark content, obsessive behavior, dirty talk, explicit language, E rated, NSFW, smut, 18+, mature themes, gaslighting

Part 1, 6, 8

You begin to drift up from a deep slumber, your head hurts and the room is too bright, you can tell even through your closed lids that the room is filled with an ungodly amount of sunlight. Had you forgotten to close the curtains before bed? Very unlike you but not an impossibility. You sure as hell were regretting it now though.

You were also still very drowsy, you can’t ever remember waking up this sleepy. Maybe you’ll rest your eyes for a bit longer.

You stir in your sleep, tongue moving over the roof of your mouth, it’s dry as sand. But you don’t want to get water, you’re still so tired and your head, Fuck! Your head kills. Maybe you could get up and get some water, close those damn curtains while you’re at it.

Your eyelids feel like they’re glued closed. One hand comes up to shield your eyes while the other rubs the crustated sleep from the corners of them. Your vision clears, and you're squinting but your eyes are open. You lift your head just slightly and examine the room.

It’s not your room, but it’s familiar. Like a room you’ve seen in a dream. Were you dreaming? Had to be. This wasn't your room. Everything blurs and you blink your eyes, your dream eyes, to clear your vision. It helps. You’re lying in bed, not your bed but the dream bed. The duvet is dark blue, it’s familiar but from where is far from even the tip of your tongue.

The room is neat, there's a dark wood dresser in the corner, a pull up bar and a stand with dumbbells progressing in weight off to the side. You turn your head to see a digital alarm clock, it reads 9:48. Fuck! 9:48?!? You’re late for work. That gets you moving, you sit up but it’s too fast and your headache triples as the world begins to spin. The dream bubble pops. Not a dream after all, but still not your room.

You recover but slowly as the room gradually stops spinning. Where were you? It looked familiar, but you still couldn’t place it. What happened last night? It’s very hazy. Nancy, you can remember that much. You had gone out with Nancy, everything else might as well had been a dream for as much as you could recall of it.

Someone was in this house with you, you could smell something delicious in the air and your stomach growled its approval. You groan and put a hand to your forehead. You needed water immediately. You stare down at the bed, dark blue, a deep navy shade. A memory, hazy, begins to come forth. Your pounding head is slow processing it, it rises to the surface from the depths of your murky brain. Your dry mouth falls open just as the door swings inward and just as your recollection had summoned him, here he was, huge grin on his face and a glass of cold orange juice in hand.

“Bonnie!” You wince at his volume and he tenses up, quieting down and even stepping lighter, trying his hardest to not pain you. “Sorry, lass. Ye might be a bit woozy. Had a helluva night last night.” You must be dreaming, but you’re not. You know you’re not.

You start to say his name but all that comes out is croaky garbles. “Here, drink this.” He hands you the glass and you’ve never coveted a glass of orange juice so hard in your life. You take huge, greedy gulps and when the juice runs over the dried strip of leather that had become your tongue you nearly cry from the joy of it. You downed half the glass and heard him from beyond it. “Easy, hen. Drink slow. Ye can have as much as ye want.”

You reluctantly pull the glass from your lips and lick them, the saliva that had burst forth from your mouth now that you’d had something to drink was overflowing and you wondered how you could have produced so much in such a short amount of time if you had been so extremely parched just moments ago.

With it under control you made another attempt at speaking. “Johnny? What’s going on?” He took the glass from your hand and set it down on the nightstand next to the bed. “Well lass, ye had a bit too much tae drink I’d say. I’m no doctor hen, but if ah’m nae mistaken I’d have tae say maybe there was a bit more to it than jus’ that.”

You definitely had had too much to drink last night. But had you? You certainly don’t remember drinking in excess but then again you couldn’t really remember much of anything about last night. Wait, what did he just say? “What do you mean Johnny?”

“Well hen, I’m no expert, but I’d say maybe ye weren’t watchin’ yer drinks too closely and I’d say maybe someone might’ve spiked ye.” What? Spiked you, like roofies or something? That can’t be. Can it? But fuck your head did hurt something unnatural.

“Ahh fuck, Johnny. I’m late for work, I’ve gotta go.” You begin to pull back the covers and get up when you notice you’re naked from the waist down. “Johnny! What the fuck! Where are my pants?”

“Jus’ slow down there, hen. First of all ye dinnae need tae worry about work, I’ve already called in tae say ye won’t be comin’ in today. Yer in no condition fer it and as yer personal trainer I took it upon mahself tae take care of ye in yer time of need. Dinnae worry, Johnny’s gotcha.”

You groan as the headache throbs back into focus with a vengeance. You have sooo many questions, like how did you get here? How did he find you? What happened? How does he know where you work and how did he call into your work and use one of your sick days for you? They swirl behind your eyes, pulsing in time with the throb of your head and instead of asking all of them like you should, you just don’t. There’ll be plenty of time for questions later.

Instead you grab again for the glass of juice and down it. With it empty he takes it from you and stands. “I’ll get ye some more, are ye hungry?” The question reawakens the grumbling earthquake in your belly and you look up at him and nod. He smiles and says nothing just turns and leaves, shutting the door behind him.

You sit in place for a moment, staring down at the bed and trying to get a grip on your memories of last night. You remember Nancy suggesting the two of you go out, you remember not wanting to, you remember getting ready and getting in the cab anyway and then it all takes on a fuzzy, unreal feel, like a dream instead of something that actually occurred.

You remember drinking and dancing but not much else. The watch on your wrist vibrates and it surprises you, you’re not sure why, you’ve only taken it off a handful of times to charge it but there’s something about it, a piece of knowledge floating on a cloud above you, refusing to grace you with its enlightenment.

You have a look through it, see the text notifications from Nancy.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

All of her replies were there as notifications, but with only her half of the conversation at your fingertips you could only imagine what was said. You assume you told her something about leaving and then the last text was about not coming into work today but you certainly weren’t up at six in the morning, you didn’t feel like you were working off of only three hours of sleep.

You had to find your phone and see the rest of the texts. You got out of bed and remembered you were naked from the waist down. In all your confusion you’d forgotten to make him explain that detail, you’d have to ask him again later.

You stood and made your way over to the dresser, pulling the top drawer open and found a neatly folded stack of boxers and socks, not what you were looking for. The next was full of shirts, also of no use to you. The third drawer down you found what you were searching for. Pulling out a pair of sweatpants you pulled them up and around your waist.

Ok, that’s one thing taken care of, now you need to locate your clutch. You look around the room, on the other side of the bed, open the two other doors in the room Johnny didn’t leave through to find a bathroom and a closet. It’s in the closet you find it but still not your pants, they must be somewhere else. You pull the phone from it and immediately begin to go through your messages.

Nancy is the only person you’ve messaged in the last twenty four hours and the conversation is foreign. The first text is from Nancy asking where you are and you had replied

“Goin’ home.” 12:32 am

That’s it? That’s all you said? That doesn’t sound like a text you would write, you’d add more detail and reassure her that you’re ok. You decide to read out the whole thing.

“Where are you!” 12:29 am

“Goin’ home.” 12:32am

“Are you alright?” 12:35 am

“Fine, just had too much to drink.” 12:42am

“Ok well, Thanks for coming out tonight, it was fun!” 12:44 am

“Oh yeah, so much fun!” 12:45am

“See you tomorrow ☺️” 12:47am

“Nancy, I won’t be coming in to work today. Can’t stop getting sick. Feel so bad. Just can’t get out of bed. Can I use one of my designated sick days?” 6:30am

“Sure, you have like a dozen of them, I’ll let Mrs. Magna know. don’t worry about it.” 6:45am

???? You don’t text like that? It’s all so short hand and formal. Did Nancy really not notice how unlike you these texts were? Of course she didn’t, she was as drunk as you were.

You lock your phone as you hear him approaching the door and slip it into the pocket of your sweats. He walks in and stops in the doorway, a plate in one hand and a mug in the other. You think for a moment he may drop them but he seems to recover and sets them down on the nightstand and rushes over to you.

You are immobilized with shock as he grabs you, hands sliding down your legs, planting his firm palms on the globes of your ass and lifting. You can feel the pure strength he possesses as he pulls you up his body and into his arms with no assistance from you whatsoever. Your mouth parts in surprise and he takes the opportunity to seize your lips with his, tongue slipping inside and melting to yours.

It felt good, his lips against yours after so long, you hadn’t realized how much you’d missed it until they were upon you again and for just a moment you let yourself be lost to it. Your watch beeped and you felt him smile against your lips before you pulled away, embarrassed at being ousted once again by it.

You wanted to slip out of his arms but he held you steady, his mouth moved to your ear with a slow trail of kisses. When he reached it he whispered into it. “Did he miss me, hen? Cause I missed you.” He gently lowered your body down his until your ass nudged something hard, his erection prodding you eagerly.

“Jus’ cannae help it, hen. Saw ye wearing’ mah sweats an’ just about took ye right there against the dresser. Gonna give a man a heart attack surprisin’ me like that.” You let out a surprised little gasp as he nipped at the shell of your ear. “But there’ll be plenty of time for that later. My lass is hungry isn’t she?”

You nodded, the angry pit that had become your stomach crying out at the mention of food. He let you down and followed you back to the bed, the surface dipped as you both sat onto its plush surface. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the plate he’d carried in.

Sitting atop it were two round things, they looked sort of like huge meatballs. You looked up at him curiously. He simply picked one up off the plate and handed it to you. “Try it.” Hesitantly you picked yours up. It was crisp to the touch and smelled faintly like oil. Definitely deep fried whatever it was. You looked up at him once more and he nodded encouragingly. You brought it up to your mouth and took a small bite.

The rich, savory flavor of sausage floated over your tongue and you welcomed it. You chewed and swallowed and went back for a second bigger bite, this time biting into the core and getting hard boiled egg along with the sausage and you looked up to see Johnny smiling and digging into his own breakfast.

“Johnny, what is this? It’s delicious.” You took another bite as he explained. “Scotch egg. Mah mum used tae make em’ when I was wee. They’re a personal favorite. Do ye like it?” You nodded, and munched on the egg appreciatively.

“You're a good cook, Johnny.” He beams under your compliment, cheeks reddening, eyes bright and gleaming you barely catch a glimpse of as he quickly looks away to try and offset the effects. “S’nothing, hen. Cookings jus’ chemistry an’ I’ve always been good at that.”

This sparks a memory, the jumpstart of a thought just like the first that just refuses to reveal itself fully, there and gone, like someone hit you with the forget it stick.

Before you can think about it too hard he picks up the mug next to him and hands it to you. It’s warm and fragrant, a nice hot cup of coffee and as you took a sip your face puckered up a bit as the bitter twinge hit your tongue, it had a distinct pungent aftertaste, there was definitely alcohol mixed in.

He laughed and you scowled at him a little. “S’just a nip, Bonnie. It’ll help with yer hangover.” You grumbled a little and took another swallow, it went down easier the second time.

Eating made you feel a little better you had to admit, but then those questions you had made themselves evident again, circling your mind and trying to push past your lips. Before you could voice them he began asking questions of his own.

“How have ye been, lass?”

“Fine.” You lie immediately, it’s first nature. What were you supposed to tell him? You’ve been moping for a week? Just trudging through life like a lost puppy since you'd seen him last? Your watch starts to beep, indicating a tick up in your heart rate. “Lass.”

You can’t look at him, you avoid it even though you can feel the icy stare of his baby blues chilling you and you have to suppress a shiver. “I’ve been fine, works just been… hard on me.”

The watch stops as your heart rate slows. “Have ye been doin’ yer homework still?” Easy question, you answer honestly and the watch stays quiet. “Yes.” He doesn’t say anything for a moment and you think the interrogation is over but then he drops the hard one.

“Why haven’t ye come back to the gym, bonnie?” You tense a bit in your spot. What would you say? That you can’t? Does he not know your trial is up? That you can’t possibly afford a membership? What would he say if he knew you’d been by, everyday for a week but have just been too chicken to go in?

You force yourself to relax and answer nonchalantly over another bite of your egg. “My trial ended.” You prayed that he’d leave it at that, but he didn’t. “So ye havnae come back because yer trial ended.” You nod to avoid speaking but the watch on your wrist says it all for you, it beeps against your words, turning your truth into lies. “Bonnie.”

The stupid thing won’t stop. Why? Why do you keep this thing on? Yet another errant memory tries to come to the surface. Something about that watch but it’s not clear, you just can’t remember. It hurts almost, the strain of trying to remember things that just won’t disclose themselves so you let it go and give him a piece of the truth. “Ok, so I’ve been by once or twice, but I didn’t go in, I just was passing by.”

You stuff the last of the egg into your mouth to quiet yourself. He scoots closer and pulls the plate from your hands, setting it down on the nightstand as you swallow and take a sip of your coffee. He takes that from you too and there’s nothing left to hide behind.

“Why did ye nae say anything tae me, ye didnae text me or anything, jus’ disappeared.” You felt hot all over, guilty and shamed, you can feel it pulling at you, tugging you with ropes, go to him they say. Push yourself into his arms and promise him you’ll never leave. Atone.

You can’t. You have questions of your own. You take your watch off, eyes locked with his as you undo the clasp and you can see the panic in his eyes but it turns to confusion as you wrap the gadget, in all its golden beauty around his wrist. He furrows his brows but doesn’t pull away, just sits and lets you.

“What happened to me last night?” He shifts a bit but you hold his arm steady, the sensors pick up his vitals and perhaps it’s dawned on him what you were doing, but if he did he didn’t fight it. “I was comin’ home late and I ran into ye outside of the club. Ye were hanging ontae the wall, couldnae even walk, hen. I tried talkin’ tae ye, tried tae find out who you’d been with but ye were out of it so I brought ye home tae sleep it off.”

The watch stayed silent the whole time, not a beep out of it. “Practically had tae carry ye if ah’m honest. Pretty lucky I came by I’d say. Ye were right sloshed.”

You didn’t know what to say, you should be thanking him but there’s still a rift between what he’s saying and what feels like truth. He just happened to be walking by just as you just happened to be outside of the club. Did you go outside by yourself? Really?

Why would you not be with Nancy? Why would you not have talked to her first? Clearly you hadn’t because she’d texted you and asked where you were. And if you’d been too drunk to walk, how could you have texted Nancy to tell her that you were going home? You were supposed to believe you could text intelligibly but not stand upright without gripping the wall? Why can’t you remember anything?

You wished you could remember more but you can’t and your little mock lie detector test hadn’t indicated he was lying to you, it sure as hell had ratted out your lies. You decided he had to be telling you the truth, as odd and coincidental as his story was, it wasn't impossible.

You sigh, accepting his account of the night before as valid, despite your inconsistencies and you felt him slip the watch off his wrist and drape it carefully over yours, he secures the clasp and lifts your hand up to his mouth and kisses the pulse point just below where the clasp sits. A soft press of his lips in a kiss so tender you feel your face heating up at the gentleness of the gesture.

He climbs up your arm in kisses, outside looking in it would have been comical to watch him treat you like Pepe Le Pew. The sheer affection in it almost cheesy but all you could do in the moment was relax into his touch. He’s reached your neck and your head dips to the side automatically, giving him more access and he takes it. Lips parting as they skim your jaw until they’re over your lips and you lean into his kiss, anticipating it, you want it, crave so very badly to be swept up by it, but he stops and leans back.

“How do ye feel?” It’s a simple question really and you find that somewhere between breakfast and your recount of last night your headache had subsided and you had a whole day ahead of you with nothing to worry about, no work to do, just you and Johnny. You felt exalted, after a week of trudging through your love sick blues you now somehow had everything you really wanted right at your fingertips.

But you couldn’t tell him that. So you just told him that you felt better and smiled, the first genuine smile you’ve had all week and it must be enough because he leans back in like he’s read your mind and gives you what you were wishing for.

His lips are soft but demanding, urgent in their press against yours and you have no choice but to succumb to their will. You lean back and he follows, chasing your lips until you’re pressed back against the pillow and he’s straddling you, strong arms stationed on either side of your head as his tongue pushes into your mouth and dominates yours.

You want more, want to roll him over and mount him, spend the rest of today alternating between riding him until your legs quivered and being flipped over and ravaged but he has different plans as he pulls away from you and backs off the bed. You stare at him in disbelief as he gathers up the dishes, smiling that gorgeous toothy grin as he does it.

“Dinnae look at me like that. We’ve got work tae do, hen.” You can’t believe he’s actually walking away from you until he does it, leaving you to stew in your arousal and stare after him. He’s gone for a bit and when he comes back you've already gotten up, made the bed and now sit on the edge watching him expectantly. He rifles through his drawers for clothes, setting out an outfit for him and then disappears into his closet, he comes out with a very familiar bag.

“What work?” He smiles and flexes, biceps bulging as he shows off his guns, you’re lost a bit at the sight of them. If he wasn’t anything else he sure was handsome, strong and lean just like you’d always fancied men to be. It’s like he’d appeared from your teenage dreams and you took him as sort of obsessed with you on top of it, an intoxicating combination indeed. “Why, our next session a’course. What else, hen?”

He hands it over to you nonchalantly and begins to strip. You recognize it immediately, It’s your overnight bag. You pull the bag close and try not to stare as he pulls his shirt off. Rummaging through it you find your workout clothes, garments you’ve worn around him multiple times, nothing shocking but you find more than just that, the bag is practically overflowing, stuffed full.

In the bag are also sets of clothes that you usually lounge around the house in, comfy things that no one ever sees you in. There’s also a few outfits that you’d normally wear to work, business casual folded neatly in the bottom. There's underwear and bras and even a couple pairs of shoes. There’s a smaller bag of toiletries tucked in the side pocket. It looks like a bag you’d pack yourself when planning to be away from home for a weekend or maybe a whole week by the sheer volume of your wardrobe stuffed into it.

“Johnny.” You look up from the bag and catch his gaze as he pulls his shorts up around his waist. “Aye, lass.”

You don’t even bother asking him the first few questions that come to mind like when did you pack this? And how? How did you know where everything was? How did you so perfectly root through my clothes and pack me a bag so thoroughly accurate of what I’ll need while I’m away? You could even see your soap, shampoo, conditioner and toothbrush. Everything you could possibly need he had grabbed.

But you don’t know how to ask him those things, don’t even know if you’d want the answer to them if you could so instead you ask the one question you don’t think you already know the answer to.

“Why is there so much?” He looks up at you like the answer is obvious and you’re stupid or perhaps just playing coy. “So ye could stay.” And he says it like it’s a concrete thing, as sound as the sea, the decisions already been made. Signed. Sealed. Delivered.

“What are you talking about?” He looks at you and his eyes are piercing and serious. “Ye cannae go home. S’nae safe.”

[superblysubpar]

siiiiiiiigh, taylor. you're the only one i trust with this and i don't know if you take requests but i'm desperate (like the i'm in pain + aching kind of desperate) for wealthy!steve to take us out on his lil yacht and absolutely rail us off the coast of italy :(

the song: Pineapple Slice by Tove Lo & SG Lewis

warnings: secluded public spot / Sorry I've never been to Italy, my only experience are slutty Joe pics & The Lizzie McGuire movie 🤷‍♀️

He turns his black baseball hat around for better access to your body. His lips skim the seam of your suit, thick fingers messing with the ties on your hips. He squeezes the plump skin, dragging and scratching down your thighs as he pulls the bikini bottom from your body. Your back arches against the leather cushions of the boatseat, hips lifting for him. The sun is blinding white - high in the sky, and the drip of cool ocean water from his hair soothes the sweat coating your body.

You whisper the name of the man you've just met when his nose skims up the inside of your legs, nipping at your thighs as his large hands push them wider for better access.

"Come on honey, need to taste you." The endearment falls easily from his lips despite knowing each other less than 24 hours. This isn't what you thought would be the aftermath of your night out with friends.

Green flashes and purple shimmers as base radiated from your feet into your chest. Sweet drinks and stealing cherries from everyone as you danced and bounced in the Italian club to a song you didn't know. Hips swaying to a good beat and when you turned, you saw him. He's smug, a lopsided smile, a hand running through chestnut hair. A glint in his hazel eyes and the flashes of green overhead illuminate the silver chain, the ring on his middle finger and the watch on his wrist that all scream money. A flirty line about how dancing like you were was dangerous, an offer of buying you bubbly expensive things that taste sweet on your tongue, and hands on your hips as your chests pressed closer, moving to the music together until your lips collided. All ending in an offer of taking you out on his boat tomorrow, a secluded little spot off the coast.

And here you are.

Steve's thumbs spread your lips for him, and his tongue licks a broad stripe through you. Thighs squeezing around his ears, muffling the sounds of the waves crashing into the rocks and the side of the boat. His mouth works lazily but precise as his hands roam under the curve of your ass. Pads of his fingers push into your skin, curvy and thick and he pulls you tighter around him, desperate for more. Tongue licking and swirling around your clit, mouth moving lower as he sucks one of your lips. A moan falls from your parched mouth and your toes curl as a rough wave rocks the boat, adding to the boil bubbling in your stomach.

He brings his attention back to the throbbing nerves, sucking around it and kitten licking with his tongue as a finger nudges at your entrance. One finger easily slips in, a second following and you clench around them as they curl. He finds the spot that has you lifting yourself off the seat. Your fingers tug in his wet locks, chest heaving as you look down at him. Sweat beads down the dip of your breasts as you plead his name, begging to release.

Steve removes himself, shaking his head no. His eyes are taken over by his black pupils, his dark chest hair curls with saltwater and sweat. He shoves the black wet fabric of his swimtrunks low enough to pull his throbbing length out. Your mouth waters at the sight of his muscles flexing as he tugs on himself, somehow getting harder and bigger. Lining the mushroom tip up with your entrance, Steve leans over you. He kisses your lips softly, tongue licking and tracing over your top lip until you sigh. The taste of yourself lingering, mixing with sweet fruit and salt from the ocean water that still clings to his tan and freckled skin.

Breath warm against your cheek as he whispers, "I need to be inside you when you cum, pretty girl."

You nod, desperate, your orgasm right on the cusp already and he lets his weight fall against you as he slides into your entrance in a quick and powerful thrust. Your cry against his lips has him squeezing at every ounce of your skin he can find. Lips drifting and pressing sweet kisses to your neck that contrast with the quick and sharp movements of his hips slapping against yours.

"Oh, fuck," your lashes are wet with tears at the ache in your gut, "Steve, I'm gonna cum!"

"Yeah?" He's breathless, groaning as your fingers scratch up his back.

The weight of his chest against yours is somehow comforting, and the pressure and graze of the thick hair at his base hitting the perfect spot that has you hanging on the edge of the cliff you've been climbing.

Steve's fingers rub messy circles into your puffy and needy clit, nerves vibrating beneath the pads of his fingers. He attaches his mouth to yours again as you take the jump, freefalling off the ledge until you hit the water. Walls tightening around him, body spasming beneath his. His release follows quickly, throbbing inside of you as he grips at your sides, squeezing and breathing your name into your parted lips.

He slows his thrusts, both of you gasping for air. Sounds of the waves return, the sun feels even warmer as the sweat falls off of both of your hot skin.

Steve reaches above your head, grabbing a piece of pineapple and holding it up to your mouth. You stare into each other's eyes, something in your gazes warming for each other as your breathless panting finds a rhythm together. Your lips wrap around the fruit, biting into the pineapple slice. Juice flows into your mouth, sweet and sticky and quenching a thirst you didn't know you had. Steve's thumb brushes over your bottom lip, tugging a little meanly until it pops back into place. He brings his thumb up to his lips and sucks the juice free from the skin.

The sun still has half the sky to conquer and you have no where to be other than on a boat off the coast of Italy with a rich boy who has an entire pineapple sliced and ready to feed you with.

---

----

-----

[afyrian]

7:03 pm iwaizumi hajime x gn!reader m.list | carrying a torch, pt. one

   

    a cool breeze rattles the tree branches above, seeds twirl down to the ground, digging into patches of mud as your car's wheels run over them. small puddles still cover the path to your campsite, yesterday's rain unable to absorb into the ground. even a deer's hoof prints are left behind for nature to consume. 

  you tap the steering wheel quietly, your windows slightly cracked to let the fresh breeze in. once a month, you think to yourself, once a month i get a break. every month you find yourself down the same winding path, japanese beech trees tower over you, their branches slowly loosing leaves. the yellow color leaving a halo effect on your car's windshield.

  and yesterday, you realized your ritual will soon come to an end for the season. the next months becoming too cold for camping like you enjoy it, bits of frost nipping at your fingertips. a frown etches its way onto your face as you stare out at the carved out space ahead of you. it's quiet, a few cans left around the stone fire pit. 

  turning off your car, you take in a deep breath, letting your mind calm and heart slow. you open up the driver's side door, stepping down in a pair of worn down boots. they dig into a muddy spot, sloshing as you lift it out. grabbing your wallet from the passenger seat, you stuff it into your back pocket, your phone in the other. 

  vocal chords vibrating, you hum a catchy song, working carefully to grab your tent kit out. tapping your foot ardently against the small patch of grass that you start setting your tent up on. just as you're shoving the stake into the ground through a grommet, you hear a snap. 

  it's thick, like a tree branch collapsing to the ground. critters scatter around, birds flying through the air to escape the noise. your gaze searches the ground cover of the area, heart rate rising significantly as you look around. finally spotting a broken tree branch that is limped to the side makes you sigh a breath of relief. 

  the wind and erosion has clearly made its way through that tree, multiple branches broken off around it. you shake your head, realizing that the wind always seems to leave you flying every camping trip you take. the first one being when the wind rattled a branch against your tent, shaking wildly in the middle of the night. 

  you awoke with your hand reaching for the knife you brought with, pushing yourself into a corner until you realized. the last time being when it whistled quietly just as you were falling asleep. the sound resonated deeply through your ears, almost like a person whistling as they worked.

  even now, after every terrifying noise and experience, it still sends goosebumps up your arms, a chill down your spine. pushing in the last stake, you take off the flannel shirt you're sporting, wrapping it around your waist. you crack your fingers, listening to the birds creating a more calming harmony, moving to quickly unzip the tent. 

  just as you stand up from finishing the tent, you hear another crack, quieter but still unruly. this time it sends you walking back to your car, grabbing a small switchblade that you keep in the door. you peer over the car's hood, looking around for anyone or anything that could tear you apart. however, when you look out at the autumn forest, you see nothing. 

  closing the switchblade, you slide it into your front pocket, closing the driver's side door. you pop the trunk and open it up, pulling out a cooler with food galore in it. rolling it into your tent and opening it up to grab a water from it. taking a drink from it to salivate your parched lips feels like heaven before heading back to your trunk to gather more things.

  looking in the back you wonder what to grab next. the small lantern rests beside your backpack, its contents mainly being a few extra snacks and a flashlight. next to it is the sleeping bag that has saved you for the past few years. it's slightly dirty, a little too old to have the same comfortability as it used to, but you wouldn't change it for anything.

  grabbing the sleeping bag, you roll it out in your tent, the dark blue color slightly lightening over time. it came with the tent, a new pillow resting in the backseat of your car. the one thing you wouldn't compromise on will always be a comfortable pillow. especially when it makes such a difference on your neck and stability for the rest of the trip.

  heading back to your trunk for a final trip, you grab your backpack, reaching for the trunk to pull it down. you pull it down quickly. looking through the windshield, you see something hunched in front of your tent. the color is a darker brown, a fur covering it, like a fur coat. however, as it moves, you quickly realize that it's not a fur coat, it's a bear.

  a large ussuri brown bear, moving slowly into your tent, its paws swiping at your cooler. you slowly lower to the ground, grabbing your phone from your back pocket. memorizing the park’s phone number, you type it quickly into your messages, not wanting to make any extra noise.

[you] my name is l/n, there’s a bear in my tent and i need assistance

[rangers office] you are speaking with ranger iwaizumi. are you able to safely get into your car?

  you feel each of your pockets, the key fob not being found in any of your pockets. the sky darkens as night begins to fall while you peer around the car. there, on a foldable chair, you can see your car keys. they look so little from where you’re sitting, so insignificant. even when its use is more than life saving. heart racing, you pull up your messages again.

[you] no, i’m hiding behind my car, i need assistance

[rangers office] okay, i’ll come pick you up, be prepared to get in. what path did you take?

[you] the kogarashi path, at the end

[rangers office] okay, i’m coming to get you

  leaning your head back against the car, you breath slowly, listening to the rustling. it's quiet, battling that of a distanced bird, its cries for a lover plays intermittently. your cooler drops to the ground in a large thump as the bear throws it around, trying to open it. low grumbles comes from its direction. they're visceral growls, perhaps ones of frustration or anger. 

  you peer around the corner as you wait for the ranger to come, trying to stay as quiet as you can. the thought of bringing its attention to you scares you shitless. every bear attack article rattles through your mind. does the bear have cubs? is he a male? prepared to attack if he's especially hungry? 

  the thought of your last view being a bear mauling you to death sends goosebumps up your legs. the hair on your arms stand up, a biological reaction that just makes you feel even worse about the situation. however, it seems to calm down some as you look ahead on the path, noticing a four wheeler coming in your direction. it stops a ways down, likely trying not to gain the bear's attention.

  ranger iwaizumi steps off into the grass, lowering his body some so that the car's size hides him. his hair is pushed back, a tan ranger's outfit sculpted to his body. he waves you over, moving his arms in such a motion that it urges for you to get low to the ground. you press your knuckles into the soft patches of mud as you slowly crawl towards him. 

  the dirt sneaks its way in between your fingers and under your nails, filling your fists. it feels interesting, slick between your fingers. you take in a deep breath and listen to the bear, listening as it pops the cooler's lid open. listening as it chews on something, a carabiner clinking against the side of the plastic cooler. 

  you make your way to the ranger, staring deep into the whites of his eyes, heart beating quickly, "thank you."

  you tried to keep your voice down, the dark shadows of night making it difficult to see his pupils. he brings a finger up to his mouth, urging for you to keep your voice even quieter. "the bear is occupied for now, let's get on the four wheeler… i'll use bear spray, so we'll be okay," his voice is deep, calming in a way.

  his hand reaches for yours, your hand's size doesn't even begin to compare to his. they’re rough to the touch, his fingers wrapped around your palm, pulling you towards the atv. very slowly, he helps you step up on it, following soon thereafter. grabbing a canister from a side pocket, he sprays it in the direction of the bear, who is only now looking up from his meal.

  the ranger starts up the four wheeler while looking at the bear, stepping on the gas as soon the bear notices you. he drives through the forest like it’s the back of his hand, moving quicker as your arms wrap around his waist. holding on tight, you close your eyes for a moment, mentally thanking the ranger in front of you.

  you want to say something, but with the darkness of the night you wouldn’t want to distract him. “shit” he whispers under his breath, just loud enough that you can barely hear it. 

  the ranger likely didn't mean for you to hear it, his job to keep things calm and under pressure. however, you can't help but wonder what he means by it. your mind racing with every terrible thought imaginable.

  you want to say something, ask what’s going on, but with the wind you fear it’ll be hard to communicate. even if you could hear what he said, you figure he wouldn’t be able to hear you with his determination. the four wheeler moves swift in the dark, every tree passing by just barely illuminated by the small light on the front. 

  the further you get, the more you get worried, is he lost? is it so dark that he won’t be able to find his way back to civilization? “sir?? where are we going?” you talk loud enough that you hope he can hear. 

  he just barely turns his head, gaze trying to find you in the dark, “i’m trying to find the-”

  the four wheeler hits something, a large root or a rock. the impact sends it into the air, the right corner side hitting into a tree and throwing the two of you from the vehicle. your arms wrap around the ranger’s body, waiting for impact. it’s hard for you to focus on what’s happening as your mind bobs in and out of consciousness and your adrenaline takes over.

a/n: legit can’t wait to write part two and three!!

[oliversrarebooks]

The Rare Bookseller Part 60: Fitz's Arrival

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tw: mind control, "kidnapping"

October 1925

The fog was thick and foreboding, the night chill and damp, as Alexander and Oliver made their way to the harbor district. Oliver was bundled in a fine wool coat lined with fur, a thick scarf and a practical hat, all provided by his master for his comfort, but he still felt a bit of the chill. Or perhaps it wasn't the weather at all, but his trepidation at meeting another vampire -- although this was, at least, one that his master trusted.

Alexander, on the other hand, seemed to have an unusual spring in his step despite the gloomy weather. Oliver thought that it might be the first time he'd noticed his master humming when it wasn't for the purpose of enthrallment. He'd been quite eager to get Oliver out the door, as well, explaining that his companion might get bored if he were left to wait long.

And so they were here on the docks with only a few dim gas lamps and a waning moon to keep Oliver from being as unable to see as when his eyes had been forced shut. Alexander had no such trouble, leading Oliver through the maze of crates and workers with ease.

"Hm, I thought he would be around here," said Alexander, brow furrowed. "Oliver, you wait here for a moment while I look around."

The last thing Oliver wanted was to be left alone in the dark. "But sir --"

A hand clapped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around him, and he was pulled backwards into the fog.

"Now, don't you worry," said a low, persuasive voice very near his ear. "You've got nothing to worry about. Trust me."

Oliver let out a muffled cry, hoping his master could hear, as he kicked at his assailant. He was unnaturally strong and the hand on his face was freezing cold -- a vampire, no doubt. His master's friend? But why would his master's friend…

"Ooh, you're more feisty than I expected. Just relax, okay? I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax…"

The hand on his face didn't feel cold any more, quite the opposite. A sensation of delicious warmth seemed to be radiating from the vampire, dulling Oliver's senses and enticing him to be at ease.

"There you go! Just be quiet," he said in a tone that made it very clear he knew the effect it would have on Oliver. "You can be quiet for me, can't you? So, so quiet…"

Oliver struggled to fight the twin effects of the euphoric touch and repeated hypnotic triggers, but he was rapidly losing. All his mind wanted to do was sink into this feeling of delicious drowsiness. "Master…" he called weakly.

"I told you, don't worry. Your master knows exactly where you are. Everything is going to be fine," said the vampire, and Oliver couldn't help but believe him. He certainly felt like everything was going to be fine as he slumped over in the stranger's arms.

The vampire removed his hand from Oliver's face, pinning him against a warehouse wall and running a gentle hand down his cheek and through his hair. The touch felt like nothing Oliver had experienced before, like cool, fresh water given to a parched man, drinking it in as much as he could and still not having enough. As the vampire became barely visible in the dim light, Oliver could see golden hair and a brash, confident grin, the face of a con-man who knew he was going to get away with it. He pressed his head into the vampire's hand, trying to get more of the heavenly touch, eyes half-lidded and already far gone.

"You were right, Lex," said the vampire. "He's absolutely ideal, a real treasure."

"Just as I told you." Alexander emerged from the fog. He looked calm, even happy, even though his thrall was currently very much in the clutches of another vampire. Even through Oliver's daze, he realized that this vampire really must be his master's friend, Fitz. "Have you had your fill of terrorizing poor Oliver, yet?"

"Terrorizing?" Fitz's laugh was as untrustworthy as his smile. "Why, Lex, I would never! Does your Oliver look terrorized to you?" He was practically pressed against Oliver now, brushing Oliver's hair from his eyes, running a finger down the side of his face and letting it linger on his lips.

Oliver could feel the euphoric delight of Fitz's touch even more strongly now, and with his master safely nearby and unconcerned, any desire he had to resist gave way to pleasure. "Mmm," he said, not even fully aware of how shamelessly he was nuzzling into Fitz's hand. His mind was fading away, only able to focus on how he needed more.

"You see, he's not terrorized at all. Are you, Oliver? Are you scared of me?"

"No, sir," he said, blinking slowly. "Not at all."

"I suppose you're all right then, aren't you?" said Alexander, and his master was at his side now, running his hand through Oliver's hair.

Oliver thought he might melt in this spot from the sheer pleasure, his knees growing weak. "I'm all right, sir," he said dreamily.

"Good boy," Fitz murmured into his ear. "You're very good for your master, aren't you?"

"I want to please him more than anything, sir…"

"Fitz," said Alexander with a hint of warning. "Do you really want to do this on a filthy, cold dock, when we could be entrancing Oliver in my library or bedroom?"

An involuntary shudder rippled through Oliver at the prospect of being taken into his master's bedroom to be entranced by him and his friend.

Fitz let out a dramatic mock sigh. "You have a point. I guess if I've been waiting this long, I can wait a little longer. Besides, I haven't greeted you properly yet."

"What do you mean…?"

Fitz relinquished his grasp on Oliver and scooped Alexander into his arms, twirling him around as though they were schoolchildren. Oliver shook himself a bit out of his trance to watch them. Alexander had a genuinely bright smile on his face in a way Oliver had never seen before, not even when Oliver was a free man and a shopkeep providing Alexander with a long sought after book, not even when his master drank. They kissed, and the kisses drew lower, down each other's necks…

So this was what truly pleased his master. Was it jealousy he felt? Perhaps he'd become used to being the center of Alexander's world, a comfort in captivity.

"They're always like this."

Oliver yelped at the voice right behind him, turning around to see a taller man with a plain brown suit and equally plain brown hair. He was dragging a huge steamer trunk behind him, and Oliver wasn't sure how he didn't hear this man's approach.

"Sorry, I didn't meant to startle you," he said. "You must be Oliver. I'm Roger, and I belong to the vampire you just… well, I suppose "met" isn't exactly the right word for it."

"Oh! You're a thrall, too?" Oliver was pleased that Fitz had brought along a thrall for him to talk to, especially one who seemed very put together. He held out his hand to shake. "It's good to meet you!"

Roger's handshake was firm. "Likewise. I hope my master's prank wasn't too troublesome."

"Well, it was surprising… but I can see now that he wasn't going to harm me."

Fitz, having put Alexander back on the ground, wrapped an arm around Roger. "My ears are burning. Are you talking about me?"

"I just think that you didn't have to manhandle Oliver by way of greeting, sir."

"How could I resist? You just don't understand how blood like yours and Oliver's smells. If you were in my shoes, you couldn't resist, either," He turned to Oliver. "But I guess I didn't properly introduce myself. I'm Fitz, an old friend of your master's."

"Nice to meet you, sir," said Oliver, shaking Fitz's outstretched hand. "My master told me a bit about you."

"About how handsome and charming I am, no doubt," said Fitz, using the contact to pull Oliver closer. Oliver could feel the drowsy trance stealing over him again as he mindlessly shook Fitz's hand.

"Perhaps, but also about how you can't leave well enough alone." Alexander's hands closed around Oliver's shoulders, and he gently pulled him away from Fitz. "We should head back to the manor, not stand on the docks until the sun comes up."

"Of course." Fitz flashed a cheeky smile at Oliver, and Oliver couldn't quite make up his mind about this vampire. He could feel himself crave more of that touch, and wasn't sure he liked the hold it already had on him.

"You're not seriously making Roger drag your luggage, are you, when you could easily do it yourself?" Alexander asked, taking the handle of the steamer trunk from Roger.

"Roger doesn't mind. That's what thralls are for, right?"

Roger ignored him. "Thank you for taking the luggage, sir," he said to Alexander.

"It's no problem."

The group began to make their way out of the chill and foggy docks and into the slightly more hospitable city streets. "So how was your voyage, Fitz? As miserable as you made it seem?"

"Miserable and more! There was a storm the first night. The seas were so rough that I could barely even stay put in my bunk. Roger here was an absolute saint, comforting me in my hour of need."

"I believe you spent half the voyage gnawing on my neck, sir."

"Just little sips! It calms the mind, you know," said Fitz. "And how have you been, Lex? Apart from the…" He gestured towards Alexander's bandaged hand.

"Fine, apart from the unwelcome visit of my sire. But we shouldn't speak of such unhappy things now that you've arrived. This wound will heal quickly once I drink, but I was making sure to save Oliver for the both of us to share."

Fitz's arms wound around Alexander's waist. "That's very thoughtful of you. We'd better get home quickly, then."

…So they were going to drink from him shortly after arriving at the manor. Oliver tried not to feel a bit of a thrill from it. He was less scared of Fitz feeding from him after his experience on the docks.

Soon enough, they arrived back home. Fitz spread out his arms and took a deep breath. "Ahhhh, how I missed that musty old library smell."

Alexander was taking his shoes off, and as soon as he had, Fitz had him pressed up against the wall. "We're not on the docks any more, and my patience has run out." He caught Alexander with a fierce, shameless, deep kiss, one which seemed to last forever. Alexander groped at his back, pulling him closer.

Oliver stared down at the floor, mortified, not sure what he should be doing, until Roger loudly cleared his throat.

"Ah, Roger," said Fitz, entirely too casually as he came up for air. "Why don't you and Oliver entertain each other for a bit?"

"Yes, that's a good idea." Alexander seemed strained, as if pulling himself away from Fitz required all of his effort. "You can have your pick of guest rooms on the second floor - Oliver can show you to them. And if you want any refreshments, the kitchen is all yours. We just have some… matters to attend to."

"'Matters to attend to.'" Fitz laughed. "You never change, do you?"

"No, generally I don't." He swept up Fitz easily into his arms and dashed up the stairs to the third floor, Fitz laughing all the way.

Oliver watched after them with a mix of curiosity and jealousy. He'd half expected the hungry vampires to enthrall and feed from him the second they reached home, and couldn't help a bit of disappointment that they hadn't. Perhaps that would come later. No doubt Fitz would be occupying his master's bed instead of him.

"Don't you think they're a bit ridiculous?" said Roger.

"Oh… I suppose they are, yes," said Oliver. It almost seemed a bit forbidden to admit that his master could be ridiculous, even though it had crossed his mind before. If he was going to have to accompany Roger while Alexander and Fitz entertained each other, he was glad that he seemed to be a very lucid thrall, unafraid of his master. That was a good sign, too, for what sort of vampire Fitz was. "Is there anything I can get for you? I could show you to a room, or if you wanted some food or drink…"

"I'd very much appreciate food and drink, if it's not too much trouble. The ship had ample food, but the serving times weren't ideal for a nocturnal schedule."

"Of course it isn't trouble," said Oliver, pleased to be helpful. "How about a sandwich, then? The bread is yesterday's, but we have some fine ham and salami and other trimmings."

"That'll do. Thank you."

Oliver led Roger into the kitchen, casting one last glance up the stairs, wondering what his master and his master's friend were doing now.

Prev > Masterlist > Next

Thank you for reading sixty parts of The Rare Bookseller! I've been looking forward to this chapter for a while.

Next week, the aftermath of Fitz's kidnapping in 1905.

@d-cs @latenightcupsofcoffee @thecyrulik @dismemberment-on-a-tuesday-night @wanderinggoblin

@whumpyourdamnpears @only-shadows-dwell-where-we-are @pressedpenn @pigeonwhumps @amusedmuralist

@xx-adam-xx @vampiresprite @irregular-book @whumpsoda @mj-or-say10

@sowhumpshaped @whumpsday @morning-star-whump @silly-scroimblo-skrunkl

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @pirefyrelight @theauthorintraining @whump-me-all-night-long @anonfromcanada

@typewrittenfangs @tessellated-sunl1ght @cleverinsidejoke @abirbable @ichorousambrosia

@a-formless-entity @gobbo-king @writinggremlin @the-agency-archives @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi

@enigmawriteswhump @foresttheblep @bottlecapreader @whump-on-a-string @whumpinthepot

@cinnamoncandycanes @avvail-whumps @tauntedoctopuses @secret-vampkissers-soiree @whatamidoingherehelpme

@strawbearydreams @ghost-whump @tippytappytyping @natthebatt @fire-bugg14

@fuckcapitalismasshole @slightlydisturbedbeans @paperprinxe @demetercabingreen-thumb @the-broken-pen

@pokemaniacgemini @jumpywhumpywriter

[huntingingoodwill]

lost in translation (j.g.)

masterlist

pairing: javi gutierrez x translator!reader

desc: when filming an ad campaign in tokyo, javi is a fish out of water. thankfully, you're there to help him translate, and explore with him off the clock.

He squinted against the harsh glare of the lights, the crew being reduced to a bustling mass of shadow. Sticking a finger into his too-tight collar, he tried to ease himself of the feeling of suffocation. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t…” Javi muttered, wide brown eyes peering up at the director. 

Smatterings of Japanese and English left the director’s mouth, accompanied by some gesticulation as he struggled to communicate. Javi felt warmth creep up his cheeks, embarrassed at his own lack of fluency in Japanese. 

He should’ve at least picked up some vocab, he thought, fiddling with the smoking jacket the costume team had conjured up for him. He was only in Tokyo for a couple of days to film an ad campaign for a whiskey company, but it would’ve helped. Especially in situations like this exact moment, where the director’s words seemed to jumble and dissipate beneath a shroud of mystery. 

“Sorry I’m late!” 

You didn’t sound sorry. 

Your words were flippant and bored, your face not betraying an ounce of apology. Cool and calm as the unbroken surface of a lake. You flounced into the studio, and your figure came into focus, the studio lights haloing your figure. His saviour. 

He felt a little ridiculous in your presence, dressed like a child’s guess of what a “cool guy” would look like. Perched in a velvet armchair that seemed to swallow him up, his fingers nervously played with the neck of the glistening bottle he was meant to convince viewers all over the world to buy. He was parched, strangely uncomfortable. Even the prop whiskey seemed enticing, though it was probably just some watered-down coffee. 

You stuck out your hand. 

He stared at it. It was a nice hand. 

“Oh!” He exclaimed, realising you meant for him to shake it, not just stare at it in blind adoration. He took it. “Sorry. I’m a little… overwhelmed.” His Adam's apple bobbed in his throat as he swallowed thickly. 

“Performance anxiety is normal. Not everyone possesses the massive talent needed to pull off a whiskey commercial.” You joked, laughter bubbling in your throat. “I’ll be your translator today. Hopefully that’ll help.” 

His eyes widened, hand tightening around yours gratefully. “You’re my hero.” 

“I know.” You smiled. “I’ll need you to let go of my hand now. I feel the director’s eyes burning into my back.” 

Javi looked up, watching as the director switched between glaring at his watch and at the two of you. 

“Oh! Yes. Sorry.” He exclaimed, slipping his hand from yours.

The director began firing off directions, which you quickly translated. Simple instructions. Turn toward the camera. Pour a shot. Deliver the line. 

“Action!”

Turn toward the camera. Pour a shot. Pour a shot. Pour a-

He was unable to tear his eyes away from you. His eyes tracked the line of your silhouette behind the camera, admiring the smile that blossomed across your face as he caught your eye. You giggled at his deer in the headlights gaze. A stupid smile spread across his face. 

“Cut!” 

The director mumbled a couple words in your ear, and you headed to Javi’s side. 

“Sorry about that.” Sheepishly, he raked his hand through his tousled brown curls. “I guess I’m just…” He admired your smile. He loved your smile.  “Stumped.” 

“Tough, huh? A real challenge.” 

“Don’t be cruel.” He laughed. You loved his laugh. The endearing crinkle in the corner of his eye. 

“Sorry.” You grinned. “Say the line like… you’ve invited an old friend over for a drink. He’s an emotional drunk, so he’s pouring his heart out to you. So, you’re talking to him with enough warmth to comfort him, while being dismissive enough to let him know it’s getting late and you kinda want him to leave.”

He raised an incredulous eyebrow. “That’s… specific. But I think I get what you mean. Did the director tell you all that?” 

“I may have taken some artistic liberties.” You batted your lashes, feigning innocence.

“You should be a director.” 

“I know.” 

With your artistic vision, filming wrapped after a few more takes. You were pulling on your coat when Javi strode over to you, pushing past the production assistants that flitted and fussed around him. 

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” You teased.

“My massive talent helped me pull through.” 

That earned another smile from you, and he felt the urgency to not let you slip through his fingers nag at the back of his mind. 

“So, um… I was wondering, are you doing anything after this? I was thinking of getting a drink…” 

“So you need me to translate your order for you?” You deadpanned. 

“Oh!” His heart thrummed in his chest, his tongue stumbling over the words he struggled to form. “I mean, I could always pay your rate as a private translator if it’d take too much of your time-” 

“Nah.” You chuckled, amused by his flustered state. “Free of charge. How could I resist those puppy dog eyes?” You quipped, voice overly saccharine as you ruffled his hair. He smiled, in spite of himself. 

“As long as you take off that horrible coat. Come on, we’ve got a train to catch.” You called over your shoulder, leaving him to hurriedly shed his costume and hurry along after you. 

“Crowded, huh?” He whispered. 

“A little.” You mumbled, pressed against his chest. 

You swayed against him to the rhythm of the train, forced to be in close proximity due to the packed rush hour crowd. 

“I don’t usually get this close with guys I’ve just met, by the way.” You muttered, another crush of passengers entering the cabin and pushing you even closer. “Consider yourself lucky.” 

“The luckiest.” He prayed you couldn’t feel his heart, which was pounding in his chest. 

The train doors shuddered open, and you wrapped your hand around his, squeezing through the doors and rushing down the stairs. He laughed as you sidled through the crowd together, breaking out from the dull train station onto the street. 

It was like breaking through water. He took a deep breath of the cool, thin air, the night dark and slick. It had been raining, and every surface was dewy, neon lights glinting off the wet, black pavement. 

“This is the first time I’ve been anywhere outside of my hotel room and the studio since I got here.” The confession hung in the air, whisked away as the chatter of passerby whipped by, people rushing past him as he stood still, agape at the scene before him. 

“That is such a shame.” You muttered. He thought you wouldn’t have heard him. But you did. 

“Why are we still holding hands?” 

“It’s the first time you’ve been outside of your hotel room and the studio since you got here. You could get lost. I’m just keeping you safe.” You said. 

He kept his eyes glued in front of him, but he could hear the smile in your voice, clear as day. 

“Do you want to let go of my hand?” His eyes tracked the buildings that seemed to shoot up into the sky, the bright billboards that flashed on them. 

“No. Not really.” You said. 

“Keep me safe, then.” He grinned, squeezing your hand in his. 

“What do you want to drink?” You drummed your fingers against the bartop, eyes skimming the labels of the many bottles on display. The bartender stood before you, polishing a glass with little to no enthusiasm. “Highball?” 

“I can never look at whiskey again.” Javi groaned, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to forget the corny one-liners about whiskey he was forced to learn for the ad campaign. 

“Saké it is.” 

“Can I ask you what may be an invasive question?” He took a sip, relishing in the bite of warmth that travelled through his chest. 

“Ask away.” 

“Which hotel are you staying at? Or do you live here?” 

You burst into laughter. 

“God, you had me nervous. That’s not that invasive.” 

“Well, I don’t know!” He laughed, raising his eyebrows. “It might be invasive to someone.” 

“An invasive question is like…” You wracked your brain, and he tried not to fall in love with the pensive look that descended over your features. “What colour is your underwear?” 

“I’d tell you if I were wearing any.” 

You barked out an outraged laugh, making a show of pretending to shove him off his barstool.

“You’ve gone past invasive to gross, but I’ll let it slide. To answer your question, I’m staying at The Laurent.” 

His eyes widened, arm freezing in the middle of delivering his drink to his lips. “You’re kidding. That’s where I’m staying.”

You smiled, shrugging your shoulders. “Must be fate.” 

He stared into your eyes, finding it hard not to get lost in them. “Must be.” 

“We’ve been in that hotel for almost a month.” You sighed, exasperated. “But, I’ve been thinking of staying permanently. I’ve been looking for apartments. No luck so far.”

“We?” Javi asked, knowing he was teetering on the precipice of something, standing on the edge of a cliff. 

“Me, and my boyfriend.” You mumbled. His heart plumetted. Falling, falling. “Soon to be ex.” Soaring, soaring. Like the weight of the world was lifted off his shoulders. “He doesn’t know I’m thinking of staying here. Without him. Am I the worst person in the world for not telling him that?” 

Am I the worst person in the world for being happy you’re dumping him? Javi thought. 

“Not at all.” Javi said. 

You may know him, actually.” You winced.

“I would?” Javi’s eyes widened in surprise. 

You muttered his name into Javi’s ear, and it took all he had not to shiver as your warm breath fanned across his cheek. 

“Dieter Bravo’s manager, right?” He said, registering the name. He pictured the last time he had met him, drunkenly waltzing around an afterparty with his arm around a woman who was definitely not you. “He’s… a character. At least you’re getting a free hotel room out of him.” 

You grinned.  “It’s a lovely hotel room, really. Spacious, especially when he’s out in meetings, or making calls to his ‘talent’.” You curled your fingers sarcastically. 

“You saying Dieter isn’t talented?” Javi chuckled. 

“Well, he’s not you.” 

The cans of coffee tumbled from within the vending machine, hitting the bottom with a loud thunk. 

You stooped down to grab them, handing one to Javi. The blue fluorescent square of light displaying the various canned drinks illuminated his profile, his honeyed brown eyes partially hidden by  shadow, his curls curving over his forehead in possibly the most endearing way known to man. 

“Do you get bored up there, when your soon-to-be-ex is out at meetings?” Javi asked, watching as you wicked condensation away from the can. He nodded toward your hotel from your spot in the parking lot. 

“Terribly.” You said, punctuating the word with the pop of the can’s tab as you cracked it open. 

“Give me your room number. If I’m ever going out, you can tag along. Translate for me.” He tried to disguise his nerves beneath a veneer of calm. 

“Hourly rate?” You smirked. 

“I could give you a cut of my ad campaign cash.” 

“10%?” 

“5%.”

“8%.” 

“5% and a lifetime supply of whiskey.” 

“Fuck it. Let’s make it pro bono.” 

“How kind.” He smirked, emboldened. “Now, what about that room number?”

You rifled through your bag, producing a marker from the cluttered depths. Plucking the cap off with your teeth, you scribbled the number on his palm.  

“1111.” He read aloud, cocking an eyebrow as he let out a chuckle. “You didn’t think I’d be able to remember that?” 

“I’ve just always wanted to do that. It’s like we’re in a movie.” 

The two of you laughed, the sound echoing into the quiet night. It was as if you were the only two people on earth. 

“1111.” He sighed, tracing a finger over your handwriting, etched into his skin. “An angel number.” 

“You believe in angels?” 

“‘Course I do. I’m talking to one right now.”