#and i have found three in my room within the past ~two weeks

[userkoo]

existing with a phobia is hell on earth and i am truly sorry to anyone who has to live with one :/

[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

Hey could you write a fem!reader x Spencer reid where reader was kidnapped by an unsub?

liaison!reader

all your belongs were left in your bedroom, phone included. there did appear to be a struggle, a chair was knocked over and your purse was slipped onto the floor with the contents scattered about. there was a dent, almost a punched hole in the wall near the door. specks of blood left behind.

“i- i was supposed to meet her. we- we always leave the office together, but she was staying behind and- and insisted i go home. it’s my fault.” spencer was shaking as he recalled seeing you just last night in your office. the two of you were talking for a while and you told spencer to head home, said you needed to finish some paperwork you forgot earlier.

if he just walked you home- “it’s not your fault.” hotch’s stern voice stopped spencer’s racing thoughts. “reid, i need you to focus. has she mentioned anything within the past week about strange occurrences happening? feelings that she was being watched?” jumping into ssa mode, looking for breadcrumbs on your trail.

spencer closed his eyes and shook his head, fingers twitching at his sides. “no- nothing. but maybe they- they were following our route after work. saw the opportunity when she was alone.” again the thoughts were screaming at him.

hotch just nodded and pulled out his phone, “garcia, i need you to pull up the security footage from last night. i need all angles of y/n, she’s currently missing.”

three days. it’s been seventy two hours since you were taken. spencer tried not thinking of the statistics that came with the chances of surviving a disappearance, but everyone knew they dwindled each second the clock hit another hour.

but there hasn’t been a body reported yet, so your chances were still high. the team is assuming that the unsub is planning to keep you hostage for up until a week at most, so they have four days left.

he couldn’t eat, he couldn’t sleep. he didn’t bother leaving the office, just camped out at his desk or in the conference room to lay on the couch as he thought. he wanted to tell you he loves you, that each second you spend together is a new memory he can always look back at clearly and yearn for more.

he can’t say he’ll protect cause that would be a lie now, but he’ll always try his hardest to stop this from happening again. spencer would wrap you tight into his embrace to keep the outside world from ever laying a harmful finger upon you.

“reid,” a call of his last name. he spun in his desk chair to see hotch running from his office. “we found him, now we just gotta get her.” spencer never moved that fast in his life than when him and hotch bolted for the stairs.

“y/n! y/n, it’s reid! y/n!” spencer ran through the houses layout with hotch and swat behind him. he didn’t care about himself in this moment, just finding you alive and breathing was his goal.

“found a basement,” he heard over his inear. he scurried down the stairs just as they bashed the heavy door down. he was about to call your name again when his was called first.

“spence,” a whisper in the dark space. flashlights flickered around the room before landing on you, chained to a brick wall as you sat on a dirty mattress. you were disheveled and bruised, you started to sob when spencer pulled you into his gentle hold.

“i got you. i got you, love.” spoken into your ear as his palm caressed the back of your head. your were a shaking leaf and he held you closer and let his lips press into your temple. “i got you.”

[cinnamostar]

seven dates to fall in love

part two. part three. part four. part five. part six coming soon.

pairing : hyunjin x gn!reader

summary : after a two year long unspoken hatred, hyunjin and you are forced to be costars in a romantic series, but when it comes to filming any of the romance scenes, you both utterly fail and are unable to get through your lines. the director threatens to take your roles away if you two aren't able to get past this within the next week, which spawns the genius idea from both your managers: can you learn to (fake) fall in love in seven dates and save your careers?

wc : 4.3k

cw : actor!au, enemies to lovers ?!, slowburn (?!), cursing, one gorey joke thing, arguing, they;re each other's biggest haters, let me know if i missed anything !!

a/n : this is part one of a possible mini series! not sure how many parts this will be, but let me know what you think <33!! likes, reblogs, and feedback is always appreciated. this is supposed to be an uncomfortable read so i hope i got the vibe down LMAO this is also more to set the scene/story so not much going on in this part...

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Tears rolled down your cheeks as Hyunjin cupped your face, lips trembling as your doe eyes looked into Hyunjin’s. His hands gently rested on your cheek, his palms cool to the touch in contrast to your warm tears. His eyebrows furrowed in concern as his thumb gently caressed your cheek in an attempt to soothe your broken heart, yet his eyes lacked any emotions, no love to be found behind his cold, dark eyes. His body was stiff and uncomfortable, his movements almost robotic as he tried to lean closer to your face, yet all you could do was roll your eyes and sigh, as you braced yourself for what was next.

“Cut!” yelled the director furiously, a frown painted on his face, “This is ridiculous! We are never going to finish filming if you two can’t act out a simple kiss scene with each other.”

Hyunjin and you instantly jumped away from each other, not missing the chance to glare at the other as the director chastised you both.

“You two are amazing actors, that’s why I picked you both for these roles, I’ve seen you both act these kinds of scenes before, but my god, do you two lack chemistry,” ranted the director, his face reddening in frustration, “I get you two don’t like each other, but your entire job is to act like it for a bit. If you guys can’t solve this, then one of you is getting kicked off the project and being replaced.”

The last sentence caused you both to snap your heads towards him, eyes widened in disbelief as you scoffed, “It’s not my fault he doesn’t know how to fucking act properly! He’s the one who is messing up the scenes,” pointing your finger accusingly towards Hyunjin.

Hyunjin crossed his arms defensively, venom lacing his words as he spat with incredulity, “Me? Please, I should be getting paid more for having to pretend to be in love with that face of yours.”

You turned to Hyunjin once more, your hands balling into a fist as you opened your mouth to speak, but you were quickly cut off, “Save it, I don’t have time to listen to your childish arguments anymore. I will give you guys one week to figure this out, and if you are not able to get through this scene, consider it over for one of you,” promptly spoke the director before turning to the crew, “Everyone, go home. We’ll come back in a week from now and hopefully we will have something to work with.”

As everyone began to shuffle off set, you stomped your way to the dressing room, wanting nothing more to get away from Hyunjin at that moment as a rageful fire burned inside of you. You slammed the door open as you slumped in your seat, seething as you remembered Hyunjin’s words and how unlucky you were that he had to be your costar. You sighed as your manager entered right after you, a serious look taking over his features, “Y/N…”

“I know, I know!” you groaned, rubbing your face with your hands out of frustration, “I know a lot rides on this project and I promise I am trying my best to work with him, but he makes it so difficult too!”

Your manager, Chan, gave you a sympathetic look while shaking his head, “Well, you two are going to need to get over your differences somehow. This will look really bad for you if you get kicked off and you will be less likely to get any other roles in the future,” he murmured, “I will… talk to Hyunjin’s manager and see if we can figure something out, okay?”

You removed your hands from your face, your apologetic eyes meeting Chan’s, “I’m sorry, he just really knows how to get under my skin.”

“It’s alright, we’ll work something out. I’m not letting you lose this opportunity,” he promised before stepping out of the room, presumably to meet Hyunjin’s manager.

Sighing once more, you recalled the day you met Hyunjin on the set of another project two years ago. Initially, you both seemed to get along really well with each other and had great chemistry on camera, as you each were playing two side characters that had a small romance flourishing in the film. Yet, somewhere along the line, your relationship with Hyunjin soured out of nowhere, him suddenly being cold with you and making snide remarks every chance he had. It created such an uncomfortable work environment, you almost considered dropping acting altogether, afraid to encounter other similar characters like him. Luckily, Chan had convinced you otherwise, reassuring you he would do everything in his power to avoid any projects with him in it and also insisting your talents would go to waste if you let one guy ruin it all. Besides, you loved acting and you were slowly making your dreams come true. Why would you ever let Hyunjin of all people ruin it for you?

Ever since then, you despised Hyunjin due to his treatment of you and whenever you did have the misfortune of running into him, you did your best to keep it curt and cordial, never lingering around too long. He seemed to be on the same page as you, but the look on his face spoke of every nasty thought he was holding back on, and you hated him for it.

And while Chan did hold up on his end of his promise, it all came crashing down at this latest project. This was an offer neither you or Hyunjin could resist, especially when the writers, producers, and director personally approached both your managers and offered the role to you directly, plopping the opportunity right in your lap. The writers really wanted you both to be the leads, believing you two were perfect for the roles and had even seen that one film project you and Hyunjin did years ago, which unfortunately set their expectations extremely high, which led to the disaster you two are currently in.

It was impossible to say no to them, especially when they went out their way to contact you, and the script was great, it seemed like something you would have so much fun filming it, yet Hyunjin was quick to suck out all the joy from it.

You tried, you really tried to be as professional as possible with Hyunjin, and filming went pretty well the first few days. In fact, it may have gone a little too well that you both left the entire staff speechless after filming an argument scene between the two main characters. So much so, that the director applauded at how real you two were able to portray the scene, even bringing him to tears as he beamed proudly at you two, assuring him that he had made the perfect casting decision. Little did anyone know, you and Hyunjin’s scripted argument was not acting at all, but was a reflection of how you felt about each other. The rageful yelling, the resentful expressions, the improvised insults, and emotions were all entirely real - there was no need for acting when you both loathed one another.

Once it was time to finally start filming the romantic elements, the prospects of this being the next greatest show was squandered instantaneously by the painful awkwardness between you and Hyunjin. And to be honest, it was mostly Hyunjin who was tripping up during these scenes, making anyone who witnessed his weak attempts of being romantic with you cringed due to how much he struggled to even look at you and treat you like a person. Every now and then, you’d find yourself breaking character, but for the most part you were able to get through your lines pretty convincingly. Although, for some reason, Hyunjin was having an incredibly difficult time completing most of his lines and struggled keeping that abhorrent scowl off his face. Yet, even though you had managed to do quite well, you were also being punished by Hyunjin’s ineptitude. 

How on Earth was this supposed to all be resolved in one week? This was a two year long feud that was not simply going to disappear over the course of the week, but you knew both of you were too competitive to let this project go. Somehow, it would just have to work out, but it was a matter of how. As you lost yourself in thought, the door to the room opened once more with a nervous Chan standing at the entrance.

You raised your eyebrows in concern as you examined Chan’s anxious body language, “What happened?”

He gently closed the door behind me, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand, “So… I talked to the producers and Hyunjin’s manager…”

You nodded your head, encouraging him to continue, “Okay, go on. What did they say?”

“They’re really upset and disappointed, as they had really high expectations and now they've decided that they’ll just replace both of you if next week doesn’t go well.”

“What?!” You jumped from your seat in shock, no longer having the possible safety of remaining on the project to back you up.

“And I don’t think I need to tell you how much worse this will be for both your public images,” Chan spoke nervously, almost as if he was dreading to share the rest of the conversation with you, “So, Changbin and I spoke, and as both your managers, we think you two need to do something to get over this bump.”

Your eyes narrowed as you tried to decode Chan’s words, “Uh huh, which means what exactly…?”

“You’re really not going to like this, I’m really sorry, I tried to think of other solutions, b-”

“Please, Chan, just spit it out already.”

Chan sighed, “Well, Changbin and I think the best way you guys can learn to recreate that kind of romantic chemistry is by, well… going on dates this next week? You know, learn to get used to being romantic with each other so it's easier to act it out on camera.”

Your jaw dropped as your eyes bored into Chan’s as annoyance made its way into your body, “No, absolutely not! I want nothing to do with that man, that sounds like a terrible idea!” you exclaimed, your face contorting into a frown as your voice grew louder.

Chan lifted his hands before him in an attempt to fan the flames of your anger, “Y/N, I know, I know, but this is the best we got for now! Do you have any other better ideas?”

Your shoulders slumped in defeat as you shook your head, “No, but… That just sounds like a week of pure torture!” you whined, Chan’s face dropping into an apologetic expression.

“Just promise me you will try your best? It’s only for a week, and then all you will have to do is get through the rest of filming.”

“I guess,” you grumbled, turning your back to Chan as you ran your hands through your hair, “Let’s just hope Hyunjin isn’t too much of a pain in the ass.”

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The next day rolled around as you waited outside of your apartment building with a miffed expression on your face, tapping your feet impatiently as you pulled out your phone to check the time. 

7:10pm.

Great, Hyunjin was now ten minutes late to pick you up for your first oh-so practice dates. You felt yourself grow angrier as the minutes passed, your veins burning hot as you contemplated going back inside and calling Chan to yell at him how this idea was never going to work, but before you could, a black car with tinted windows pulled up next to you. The window on the passenger side rolled down, revealing an upset Hyunjin in the driver’s side who called out to you, “Wow, don’t look too happy to see me. Get in.”

This only made your frown deepen as you rolled your eyes, opening the car door to take a seat, “Whatever. Couldn’t even open the car door for me, huh?” you slammed the door shut, crossing your arms as you looked ahead, avoiding Hyunjin’s gaze.

He scoffed while putting the car in drive, “Now why the hell would I do that?”

“Aren’t you supposed to learn how to be all gentlemanly and shit? Isn’t this why we’re doing this?” you snapped, nails digging into your hands as you clenched them in an attempt to hold your anger in.

Hyunjin only shrugged, “Funny you think you deserve that treatment. Just shut up and let's get this over with.”

You held your tongue, resisting the urge to start another quarrel with him in this car ride to whatever restaurant Changbin reserved for you two. It was a 20 minute drive and you refused to waste your breath on some argumentative asshole, and reminded yourself that at the very least you’d be eating something delicious soon enough.The car ride was tense as neither of you dared to speak, especially after Hyunjin turned the music up to hide the deafening silence that hung in the air. As soon as you both arrived at the restaurant, you exited the car in a hurry, desperate for a breath of fresh air and some reprieve from the tension you just sat in. Unsurprisingly, Hyunjin strolled right ahead of you, not making any sort of effort to acknowledge your existence as he marched through the restaurant's front doors as soon as he exited the car, causing you to chase after him just to keep up with his long strides. Truthfully, it felt like Hyunjin was just trying to piss you off, and it was working.

Upon entering the building, you realized Changbin had definitely booked you guys an extremely upscale restaurant, which explains why he was so insistent on making sure you both dress formally. Everyone in here reeked of affluence, and while you and Hyunjin were able to afford these luxuries due to the success of your careers, you still couldn’t help but feel out of place. The other patrons were dressed similarly to you, but there was this extra layer of otherworldly riches radiating off of them. Perhaps it was their mannerism or the snobby, fake, business smiles exchanged amongst them, but something about this place was extremely unsettling.

Hyunjin approached the host with a polite smile, “Reservation for Hwang.”

The host nodded, retrieving two menus before standing in front of both of you, bowing “Mister and Mx. Hwang, please follow me this way.”

Your body physically recoiled with disgust and shock when you heard the host refer to you as Mx. Hwang, wanting to immediately correct him, yet you reminded yourself you were here on a date, so it would be best to try to immerse yourself into the role as much as you can for the sake of your career and the future of this current project. The host led you to your table, which was thankfully located in a more secluded corner of the restaurant, a small candle in the middle of it to help set the romantic mood.

You thank the host as you sat down, graciously taking the menu from his hand with a smile, which dropped into a glower as soon as the host left, “Are you not taking any of this seriously?”

Hyunjin pursed his lips, his eyes scanning the menu in his hand, “You expect me to take you seriously?”

Your jaw dropped, completely flabbergasted at his lack of concern over the situation he put you both in, “What the fuck is your problem?” you growled in a syncopated whisper, trying not to draw any attention to you, “Do you not care about the possibility of both of us losing our roles?”

Hyunjin let out another exasperated sigh, as if you were inconveniencing him, “I am trying to get through his evening with you without wanting to gouge my eyes out,” he dramatically plopped the menu down on the table, “I do care, of course I fucking care.”

“Then can you at least act like it?” you whispered angrily.

“Maybe if you would shut up-”

Before Hyunjin could finish his statement, the waiter came by with an excited and hospitable smile, “Hello, Mister and Mx. Hwang! I hope you both are having a lovely evening. I’ll be your server for the night, can I interest you guys in a bottle of wine before we get started with food?”

You smiled at the server, nodding your head, “Oh, yes, that sounds wonderful. We’ll take whichever one you recommend.”

The server nodded sweetly, blissfully unaware of the tension between the two of you, “Great! I’ll bring out one of the house favorites for you two to try, I’ll be back shortly.”

As soon as the server was out of earshot, you glared down at Hyunjin once more, gripping the menu in hand as your knuckles turned white, “I am going to pretend I didn’t hear you. Do you know what you’re going to order?” you asked, trying to at least make some sort of conversation with him.

Except, Hyunjin just hums a response as his eyes return to the menu, choosing to ignore your question as the chatter of other patrons fills the silence. You let out a heavy exhale, debating on whether you should reach over the table and slap him, play along with him, or continue trying for, once again, the sake of your careers. “Well, I’m going to get the filet mignon. I think it’ll pair nicely with the wine.”

Hyunjin continued to ignore you, now scrolling through his phone which caused your anger to boil up within you as you wondered how on Earth you were going to get through the rest of the night with any sort of progress. “Seriously, Hyunjin? Are you not even going to try?”

He looked up from his phone, an unamused look painting his features, “Please just shut the fuck up. It would make this night a whole lot more bearable if you knew how to keep your mouth shut.”

“Hwang Hyunjin, I swear to f-”

“Alright, here you go,” the waiter returned with a cheery smile, setting down to glass cups while popping open a bottle of wine, “Are you two ready to order?” he beamed as he poured a healthy amount of wine in each of your glasses, and lord knows you need a drink right now.

“Ah, thank you,” you forced a courteous smile, “I’ll take the filet mignon, please.”

“Alright, and what about you, sir?”

“I’ll have the whole grilled snapper, thank you.”

“Perfect, I’ll have those out as soon as they’re ready.”

You felt yourself growing incredibly frustrated as time ticked by, unable to sit still in your seat due to the roaring fury you felt inside of you. You just could not understand why Hyunjin was so hateful towards you, you had no idea what caused him to behave this way with you and you were growing sick of it. Maybe you could confront him about it, but right now, you were way too riled up to even think of having that conversation with him. Your face was stuck in a permanent scowl as Hyunjin wore a blank expression, seemingly not caring about the circumstance you both were in. It floored you that Hyunjin wasn’t taking any of this seriously. He said he cared about the fact he was at risk of losing this role, yet his actions and attitude said otherwise. 

If looks could kill, Hyunjin would’ve been dead ten times over, yet as he looked up to meet your eyes, he returned your gaze with a humorless one, “You know, staring is rude.”

It was taking an exuberant amount of self control for you to hold it together, “I just can’t understand how you’re so relaxed about this. It’s like you want us both to get dropped from this project.”

“Like I said, I do care, but this whole arrangement isn’t so easy to do,” he said sternly, “You’re not even giving me the chance to get comfortable. You can’t just expect me to be able to act like we don’t hate each other. And pressuring me isn’t helping much either, is it?”

You bit the inside of the cheek, recognizing that Hyunjin wasn’t entirely wrong in how he was feeling. “I guess so,” was all you could manage to reply, not willing to give him the satisfaction that he was right. 

Once more, an uncomfortable, tense silence loomed over as you each waited for your food. You decided it was best to deal with this rather than forcing a conversation, perhaps it was best to let Hyunjin take the lead since he was the one struggling with this disaster. Despite the heavy atmosphere, you found your muscles slowly relaxing as time went on as your focus returned to the environment around you, how decadent each detail of the restaurant was and the false laughters of businessmen filled your ears. 

The waiter returned with both your meals in hand, grinning from ear to ear, “Alright, here’s the grilled snapper for you, sir,” he carefully laid the plate in front of Hyunjin before turning to you with a sweet smile, “And here’s the filet mignon for the beautiful Mx. Hwang.”

You noticed Hyunjin trying to hold back a teasing laugh at the waiter’s comment, even going as far to add, “They’re lovely, aren’t they?” But only you could see through the fakeness Hyunjin wore as the waiter politely agreed, causing you to kick Hyunjin hard in the shin from under the table. Hyunjin’s face winced as he thanked the waiter for the food before glaring at you, “What? You want us to act like a couple, but the moment I do something, you have a problem with it?”

You grumbled, annoyance lacing your voice, “Oh, shut up. You were being sarcastic, you asshole.”

“Oh, really? I would say our server didn’t have a clue, I’d say I’m a pretty good actor,” he smirked, picking up his fork and knife, “Let’s just enjoy our food, hm?”

You returned Hyunjin’s smirk with an insincere smile, “You’re right, it’s probably the only good thing that’ll come out this evening.” 

Hyunjin only hummed in agreement, choosing to ignore your comment as he dug into his food, you doing the same as the familiar tense silence enveloped you once more. In all honesty, this felt like it was going nowhere, it felt like this whole project was doomed from the very inception of it and Hyunjin’s stubbornness was only making this more difficult than it needed to be. The idea that you had to put your full trust and the fate of your career in someone else was too much, it was ridiculous, yet here you were, with the man you loathed the most having full control on whether this project would be a success or a blemish on your career. His lack of cooperation filled you with anxiety, yet you knew you had no choice. Patience wasn’t always your strong suit, but Hyunjin never failed to test it and you weren’t sure if you were going to survive this entire week if this was how every meeting was going to be like.

You were half way through your meal when Hyunjin cleared his throat, snapping you out of your thoughts, “So, why did you take the project knowing I was going to be the male lead?”

You snorted at his question, “Could be asking you the same thing.”

“Well, I honestly took the role thinking you wouldn’t do it knowing it was me as the lead,” mumbled Hyunjin.

“Wow,” you stared at him with disbelief in your eyes, “You really thought I’d reject a hand delivered opportunity?” you let out a surprised laugh, “Besides, the script seemed fun. Just didn’t realize you’d be so impossible to work with.”

“I see,” responded Hyunjin as he continued to eat, causing you to raise your eyebrow, fully expecting a witty response from him in return. 

The rest of dinner went on without a word, that being the only exchange throughout the night. While it was not an enjoyable time, you and Hyunjin seemed to have agreed that the silence was far more welcomed than any bickering you two would engage in, preferring the uncomfortable peace over anything else. 

The car ride home went the same, no words other than the loud music that drummed over your incessant thoughts, anxiety crawling throughout you as you began to worry that maybe you were losing out on the biggest role of your career, all thanks to Hyunjin of all people. If this didn’t work out, this would make it impossible for you to find other roles in the industry, as rumors would inevitably spread about how difficult it was to work with you and Hyunjin. You couldn’t trust him one bit, you had no faith in him that he would be able to get over his own differences with you, ones that you still had no idea where they even spawned from. 

As soon as Hyunjin pulled up in front of your apartment, you left his car without a word, not even looking back before making your way up to your unit. You pulled out your phone as you unlocked the front door, stumbling as you dialed Chan’s number.

“Oh, Y/N! How did it go?”

“Chan, this isn’t going to work. We’re fucked.”

[b0xerdancer-writes]

The Heir of Spring

Tamlin x Archeron!Reader

Summary: When one of Feyre's sisters' stabs Tamlin in the arm, the male took a strange liking to her, he had hoped she had been the one to kill the wolf he could love her ferocity; only she wasn't but she tracked Feyre through the woods and into the Fae realms to show up on Tamlin's doorstep. The rest is history as the two fall in love and start their own family.

Prompt: Heir Of Spring

Warnings: War, violence, blood, family disagreements, feyre and rhys slander, nesta and elain slander kind of.

Word Count: 5,402

Notes: A bit smaller but a good start to Tamlin week, this may be a thing I revisit and do a prologue or multiple parts to delving more into their day to day and relationships since this is cannon divergent and kind of an AU of what if the Spring Court didn't fall. And I felt Tamlin needed some character growth.

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The Archeron sisters had become powerful figures before the Hybern war. The oldest a figment of death herself, The next an oracle with powerful visions, the next imbued with the powers of dryads and nymphs, and the youngest a curse breaker with a touch of every court in her blood.

Stories were told of the four sisters, how the youngest was putting her life on the line for the other three but that couldn’t have been farther from the truth; Feyre knew it but wouldn’t speak in favor of the male that had once locked her within the halls of his estate and the sister she had become estranged with.

When Feyre had first been taken to Prythian she had enjoyed Rosehall however boring it seemed to her, she had been warned about the dangers that lurked between her and her home.  She had been taken aback  when a loud pounding came from the door that startled both Tamlin and Lucien, Tamlin was the first at the door Lucien and herself behind the blonde male. The sister who would later be known as ‘The Dryad’ stood at the door of Rosehall, dressed in hunting furs and bloody, a head from something Feyre would only ever see in her nightmares in her hands. They had different mothers but had bonded together over their years, her mother had been a servant in the Archeron household who had been coerced into sleeping with the master of the house yet she had some of the strongest willpower around and had spent her time in the forests around their home; it paid off now in their young adult years, she had tracked many things for Feyre during Spring when mud would hide tracks.

Tamlin was stunned, that he would admit, at how this small female human had fought her way through the woods, found her way through the wall, and had fought her way to Rosehall; and by the looks of it she had taken out a naga on her own relatively recently from the scent. Tamlin was even more stunned when she tossed the head at his feet, blood splattered on his boots.

“I killed it, I hate the fae  and I murdered one in cold blood. It didnt attack me and gave me no reason to murder it, just like my sister. Now you have to take me in too.” She had growled at the blonde male.

“You took out a naga?” Tamlin asked and she nodded. “By yourself?” She nodded again. “On my property?” She nodded again. “In my court?” Tamlin gaped. 

“Okay then Rosebud, you are free to stay here. We were just having breakfast and I’m sure you must be hungry after a fight with a naga, so feel free to eat up. I’ll have the maids make you a room and then you are free to bathe if you wish, make yourself at home dear.” Tamlin had been truly impressed by the female in front of him, taken with her he would even admit.

She had raised her head high and waltzed right past Tamlin and Lucien only to nod at her sister in greeting. “Feyre, good to see you again.”

Feyre gawked. “What are you doing here?” 

“Originally I came to save you from the jaws of a best but now I refuse to let you go through this alone.” The older female had stated matter of factly and waltzed into the dining room, Feyre at her heels.

When the two female disappeared from their view Lucien had turned to his blonde counterpart with a questioning look on his face. “Tam, pardon me for questioning you, but WHAT WAS THAT.” He whisper-screamed at the blonde.

Tamlin shrugged a smug look on his face. “I like that one, she's the one I was the one who killed Andras. She's the one I told you about.” 

Lucien pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “That's the one that stabbed you with the ash dagger in your arm.” 

Tamlin nodded. “Correct however you forgot the other part of it.”

Lucien sighed, already done with Tamlin’s own antics for the day. “My apologies, correction the one that stabbed you in the arm with an ash dagger and made you 99% sure she's your mate.” 

Tamlin gave Lucien an offended look. “I’m not crazy Lucien.  I barged into their house, completely smashed the door from its hinges, mind you, and her first instinct was to leap over a couch at me and put herself between me and her family and stab me in the arm to pull my attention to her…”

Lucien sighed and cut the older male off. “And when you did look at her you felt something similar to how the bind is rumored to feel, just dampened. I get it Tam, maybe it's just dampened because she's human?”

Tamlin nodded. “Maybe. I will just have to wait and see then.” Tamlin motioned to the dining room. “Shall we?” 

Luicen snorted and started back towards the dining room, Tamlin turned and kicked the head out into his yard. Lucien was leaning smugly against the dining room door frame obviously trying to fight laughter and Tamlin found out why when he entered the dining room to find his Rosebud in his chair chowing down on the plate of bacon and pancakes he had compiled earlier before her interruption. Tamlin couldn’t be mad though, he found it adorable and he had rightly invited her into his home and to his table.

He cleared his throat, gaining everyone's attention in the room, he sent a wink towards the female in his spot and with a snap of his fingers the table added another sitting and he took his place across from the spiteful, strong willed female.

+

The two were a hilarious picture to Lucien, and he was sure to the mother as well if she truly did design them to be together. They were out in the meadows and she was in his face over something and Tamlin looked like a hurt puppy, Feyre had refused to join but her sister was adamant exploring her ‘prison’ as she called it.

Lucien was leaning against a tree, nose in a good book when he had heard their argument cease, he looked up just ws Tamlin was about to say something and the female with a bored expression on her face; without fail he watched Tamlin point to the moon pool beside them and her just shove the blonde male into it. Lucien had busted out into laughter and she pointed at him and then back at the lake; he raised his hands in surrender ,set his book down, and kicked off his boots. He had stepped up to her, and just as she reached out to shove him in he threw her straight into the water instead. When she finally dragged herself from the water with a pout she had pushed Lucien back in on top of Tamlin; the two males proceeded to race her back to the manor that evening after their clothes had dried, Tamlin had let her win of course by insisting she take the fastest horse. 

+

When Rhysand had appeared the evening at the manor, Tamlin had put her under a glamor and had her behind his chair, she had clutched the same dagger she had stabbed Tamlin with tightly in her right hand and leveled her breathing, when Rhysand had found Feyre and grabbed her by her chin Tamlin had shot her a glare, still hidden under the blondes glamor, for some reason she knew what that look meant. 

‘Stay hidden.’ He begged her silently in that look. ‘Don’t stab him. It will be okay.’

She had understood and focused on her breathing not giving herself away, Tamlin had put himself between her and Rhys and she found herself clutching the back of his shirt to calm herself; after the gloomy male had left she had leaned against the blonde male while catching her breath.

It had been that night after Feyre and Lucien had gone to bed that she slipped from her own room, it was grand and only one other door shared the hall with hers; the room across from hers was Tamlin’s, she knew that much for sure, as she had heard his steps and the door close late every night. She had never been a good sleeper, insomnia had haunted her since she was a child and the only thing that seemed to sooth it was nature; during the warmer seasons back home she could simply open a window but that was impossible in the winter and she had been so adjusted to her winter schedule it affected her more than normal. Any sane person, human or fae, would think her insomnia a side effect of the gloomy males appearance earlier; she didn't know quite what caused it but she did know Tamlin was affected by the same kind as her, every night just as exhaustion began she would hear Tamlin’s steps, heavy and slow, coming down the hall and disappear into his room. 

Except this time instead of his steps lulling her to sleep, they never came up the stairs so she fought off the exhaustion nipping at the edges of her consciousness and slipped down the halls into his study where he had disappeared after dinner.  No words were spoken as he looked up from the glass of whiskey and simply offered her her own glass, she had taken it with a nod; fire crackled in the hearth to her right and eventually Tamlin moved from his seat behind his desk to the one beside her, an unspoken understanding between them as he wrapped a fur tossed over the back of his chair over her. Eventually the two dragged themselves up the stairs and through the halls again, slipping into their rooms with a wave and nearly falling into their own beds, it was the start of an unspoken relationship and the first taste Tamlin had of who his mate truly was.

+

The night of calanmai had been rough, the drums and smoke called to her, she had always loved festivals and parties; and Tamlin had been cold and distant and his steps were not there to assure her everything was okay, surely he would be out all night and wouldn't care if she were to slip into his bed in search for some semblance of comfort. Tamlin’s silk sheets were cool against her skin and her own silk pajamas, she could only assume what Feyre was up to in her room; Tamlin had ordered them to stay here and as much as she wanted to disappear into the crowds of partying fae she refused, opting to cover her head with one of Tamlin’s pillows as a way to deafen herself from the calling music outside. Two mistakes had been made that night, one was Tamlin refusing to fully inform them about what Calanami was and two was the fact she had deafened herself and didnt hear those steps she had familiarized herself with coming up the stairs.

Tamlin was completely exhausted and disgusted by Calanmai, he was sure of it now, or at least that last sane part of his brain tonight was, that she was his mate; every maiden’s scent disgusted him and he had even smelled Feyre’s there it was similar to the one he wished had been there but different enough he had no urge to chase after it, he'd had an altercation with Feyre on his way back into the manor but was able to restrain himself at the thought of his mates smell lingering in the halls. It was her he wanted, not her little sister.

Tamlin wanted to just bathe and collapse into bed, his mind in a fog due to the mix of lingering magic and his senses beginning to clear. Yet when he finally clambered his way up the stairs he found himself confused that his door was cracked and a faint lamp light seeped out into the hallway, he was confident he had closed the door and shut off his lamps. He stepped into his room looking everything over and his heart nearly stopped at the sight of his female curled up in his bed, he didn't want to wake her and ruin the sight in front of him; he cursed and tiptoed into the attached bathing room, to him he still stunk if the female he had given unto his instincts with and didn’t want to disturb or disgust the female fast asleep in his bed.

His brain was on autopilot, a mix of hormones, instincts, and the slightest bit of control he did have. He scrubbed his skin raw until every inch of paint and any trace of the females that were throwing themselves at him was gone, he finally slipped into cotton trousers with a groan; he briefly debated going across the hall into her room to sleep but a warm bed and the female in it was calling to him. Surely if she had sought him out like this she wouldn't mind him sleeping in hisnown bed beside her, after all they both had made a habit of checking on the other before falling asleep now. He tucked himself into the silk sheets beside her and sighed as she curled into him, the comfort of her being there surely was the determining factor in his muscles finally  relaxing and letting him fall asleep seamlessly.

All that had been spoken between the two the next morning was a simple exchange of “you okay?” and “yeah. You?” And a nod of her head. 

Nothing was said when they both appeared for breakfast, Lucien seemed content at poking fun at Feyre for a bruised wrist and the nearly erotic interactions she had at the festival last night before Lucien finally escorted her back to the manor; Her sister had simply shook her head at Feyre when she found out the younger female had snuck out despite being told to stay.

Other than that everything had stayed relatively uneventful, the two continued their evening drinks and then would climb the stairs together to collapse into their own beds; but it had been just the start they needed.

The next time anything eventful happened was when she and Feyre had been sent back to their home, she had put up a fight and it took knocking her out to get her in the carriage.

Tamlin had felt terrible hurting his Rosebud like that, he knew she didn’t want to leave Rosehall and it hurt him to have to knock her out just to keep her safe. She had locked herself inside her room, refusing to come down and eat; she became a ghost. She wouldn’t admit to it but Tamlin’s presence had calmed her and had offered a strange kind of presence that left a lot of emptiness and longing there, She would only ever leave her room late at night after everyone else had gone to bed and she would sit in the garden across from the rose bushes remembering her late night meetings with Tamlin; she never once noticed Feyre’s absence within the walls of the home she occupied.

She stayed out of Nesta and Elain’s ways and kept out of their business, until a loud knock came at her door. She opened it with a growl in her throat ready to scream about leaving her alone, only Feyre greets her at the door but yet she is now fae like Tamlin; her eyes scanned over the sharpened features and pointed ears, a frown comes over her face as she furrows her brows.

“Sister, before you say anything let me explain.” Feyre begged, pushing her way into the room and closing the door behind her.

The older female shrugged sarcastically. “Well I have no other option since you pushed your way in here, explain away.”

“I don’t wish for you to be mad at me.” Feyre pleaded.

“I have a feeling I am going to anyways, no matter what you say that is not a promise I can make to you right now.” The older snapped, venom in her words.

The two sat down opposite each other on the padded couches she had tucked into the corner of her room, Feyre explained everything that had happened and begged her to help them with the mortal queens that would be meeting with them soon. That it might be good for her, she needed to get out of this funk anyways because Tamlin was jot a good male; Feyre insisted it and the older female felt her blood pounding in her ears and behind her eyes.

“Don’t you dare slander him like that, he only did what he had to to protect us Feyre, don’t start with me on this.” The older female growled.

“I'm telling you sister he is a bad male and I need you to put whatever feelings you have behind you and help us with this. You were there in Prythian too, you can speak on the matters that happened there.” Feyre begged.

“I will be down for dinner to meet these males you speak so highly of. I will think about your offer. I promise you nothing.” She hissed back at Feyre, pushing her younger sister from the room and shutting the door with a loud bang.

She dragged herself into the attached bathing room, contemplating ways to truly anger her sister for how she had spoken about a male she could tell was truly broken.  She scrubbed herself with floral scents, dressed herself in the same greens Tamlin had worn, and then slipped one of the roses she had brought up from the late nights in the garden into her hair; a sign of who she was truly loyal too, she didn't see Feyre’s disdain for the blonde male she only saw the fact he tried to protect them.

She had joined the group in the kitchen, Feyre had given her a sad dejected look upon her arrival to the dining room table, she made no talk with the males around the table even when they attempted to reason or talk with her.

Eventually she stood, after she’d had enough of their insults and turned to address Feyre. “I will not be supporting you this time little sister, you insult my family and those I love then turn around and expect me to bend to your every whim? Well I will not be bending for you this time. Find your own way, Cursebreaker.” 

She stepped out into the gardens to lose herself amongst the Roses she had helped Elain plant, a stone bench with heads of beasts carved into it greeted her; the only place she felt she could truly relax when her mind was racing, the beasts on the bench had reminded her of Tamlin’s beast form. After she cooled off she would head back inside and curl into bed, hopefully she'd get some kind of sleep tonight.

+

Several weeks had passed, everything had returned to normal, the queens came and went but a loud noise of some sort had her sitting up in bed; her door was off its hinges and three males  filed into her room. She screamed and fought, but they gagged and bound her; eventually one of them had gotten tired of her thrashing and knocked her out.

+

When I came to, Elain was being pulled from a large pot, but Tamlin’s eyes never left my figure despite Feyre clinging to his arm and when he saw I was finally awake he made a subtle gesture to stay calm, his eyes held the same message they had the day Rhysand stormed into Rosehall: ‘don't fight, don't move, don't get hurt.’ 

I nodded back but tensed up as they dragged me forward. I rose to my feet, squared my shoulders, and shrugged off their grasp; stepping into the cauldron of my own free will. Just as I was about to submerge into the water I heard Tamlin call out for me, I felt his panic, felt every emotion he was feeling in my own chest and hoped he could feel my own thoughts and emotions; I took one last breath and let myself sink into the water, that enveloped me in a cool feeling that reminded of the breeze that floated across the Spring Court.

Inside the water, the cool black emptiness turned and twisted until I was greeted by a misshapen and abandoned version of Rosehall, inside a version of Tamlin that had clearly given up; it saddened me to see him in that, angered me to clearly see the cause: Feyre. The male she had chosen over Tamlin was towering over him, mocking him about Feyre destroying his court from the inside out. I couldn’t move, could only watch but then Rhys said something that had me thrashing against whatever invisible force held me in place.

“Too bad you listened to Feyre and that dumb little priestess instead of your mate. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost it all.” Rhysand had mocked. 

No. I wouldn't let him lose it all, I’d be there to protect him like he had me, like he had tried to do with Feyre. I fought against everything restraining me to reach out for Tamlin and Rhysand to put myself between them and from the ground a wall of thorns all angled at Rhysand’s throat grew, one wrong move could have had his head on a spike. Whatever seemed to hold me there disappeared and I clattered onto the familiar wooden flooring of Rosehall,  I rushed forward to Tamlin who called out my name; the thorns around Rhysand swarmed me instead and I screamed as they embedded themselves into my skin, it burned and I felt like my insides were being torn apart and reformed repeatedly, until one final crack had my vision going white and I attempted to reach out in Tamlin’s direction. Everything came rushing back to me as my hand made contact with the iron of the cauldron and I pulled myself back out, my body felt thinner yet heavier and all of my senses felt sharper; I stepped fully from the cauldron to find everyone staring at me and then Tamlin called my name desperately, my vision snapped to him and I rushed forward when everything was silenced by a blinding gold light and the feeling of belonging.

He had pulled me into his arms, faced me away from my sisters as they dragged Nesta under and he shrugged Feyre off. It was the first I had been able to take in my appearance, or at least a portion of it; where the vines had embedded themselves tattoos of swirling thorns made themselves at home with an occasional Rose in bloom or blooming  littered throughout the design. Bracelets weaved together of vine, woods, and ivy dangled from my wrists; the tattoos led towards my wrist and faded into black at my fingertips.

“How intriguing,” a voice called out from behind me and Tamlin’s grasp tightened around me. “She's high fae yes, but there is clearly something ancient in her blood the cauldron transformed; she's similar to a wood nymph but so very different I haven't seen a dryad for ages, I believed them extinct. How exceptional for the cauldron to give us this.” 

I felt a rumble begin in Tamlin’s chest and I tightened my own grasp on Tamlin. “Seems like the girl had fae blood in her veins somewhere Tamlin, appreciate that fact.”

The rest of the evening went by fast, I could barely remember it with my face buried in Tamlin’s chest. Nesta and Elain had tried to call me over to them but I simply shot them a glare. Eventually we returned to Rosehall, Lucien gave me a sympathetic nod while Feyre tried to cling onto Tamlin’s arm. She tried to play up how much she missed him, a lie, in fact it was all lies that fell out of her mouth; I had heard her ramble on and on about how much she was in love with Rhysand the day she brought them to our table, and it bothered me I wanted to say something but I was content in Tamlin’s arms as he carried me. 

He had brought me to my old room,  nothing had been touched beside the bed. “Sorry, I may have slept in the bed a couple times on sleepless nights.”

��You have nothing to apologize for Tamlin, but I have to ask you something.” I gave him a worried look.

“Of course Love.” He furrowed his brows. “What has you so concerned?”

“When I was in the cauldron, I saw something that I feel you should know though.” I clutched at the material of his shirt desperately.

“Of course love, what is it? What did you see?” Tamlin asked me with a concerned tone of voice.

“When I went under in the cauldron, I was here but not here, everything was torn apart and it looked abandoned. You were here down stairs in your study and Rhys was looming over you, he said something about how if only you had listened to me and not the priestess or Feyre. I have reason to believe the cauldron told me that for a reason Tamlin, I know for a fact the way Feyre is acting is a charade and that she completely despises you. She begged me to let go of the feelings I had for you and to listen to how terrible of a person you were when she came home to us as a fae.” I explained.

“Rhysand said something about how you'd lose it all, he… he was threatening you,” I looked to the ground and fusted the fabric of his tunic tighter in my hands. “I couldn’t stand for it. I- I reached out for you and then a wall of thorns was separating you and Rhysand and they were all pointing to Rhysands neck. And- and when I came out of the cauldron you called for me and then I looked at you and everything was glowing with a faint golden light and there was a throb in my chest-“ I was in the midst of rambling when Tamlin pulled me into a growl with a kiss.

“I'll send Feyre back to her court, and then me and you will consummate our mating bond and then will do this our way. Alright? Neither one of us will be left alone to lose it all as long as we have the other.” Tamlin assured me.

“Alright.” I nodded.

“Get cleaned up, I’m going to talk to your sister and send her back home. We can talk about consummating the bond later tonight.” Tamlin kissed my forehead and motioned to the attached bathroom.

+

The bond had been consummated over a cherry pie, and everything had been going alright; Feyre had frowned upon the fact I revealed her plan to Tamlin, she was even more bitter he had made me High Lady after he had refused her. The war came and went, I knew his plans of infiltrating Hybern and bringing the plans to the other High Lords; fuck, I had attended the meeting with him and fought with my sister over the venomous words she soit towards me and my mate. On the field I had caused massive damage, walls of thorns herded our enemies, tore them apart, and pulled them into the terrain below; I could cover large areas of terrain  and bend it to our whim. It had made enough of a difference and I believed my sister understood that, as she clutched her dead mate and Tamlin offered him a shred of his own magic after getting a nod from me. It would be the last thing I would do to support her.

+

After the war we spent a majority of our time repairing the Spring Court  that was until Lucien had made a comment about my scent being different which concerned Tamlin and led to an announcement of Spring Courts heir. Well I say ‘announcement’ but really we kept it under wraps from anyone but members of our court till the next High Lords meeting was called. Eris had been crowned after Beron had been assassinated by some leftover bane put into his drink; the assassin was never caught even though we all knew it had been a plot by Eris and his mother. Kallias had added Viv into our list of High Ladies and Helion had married Lucien’s mother. Come to find out Lucien was heir of the Day court and he had been trekking back and forth between Day and Spring to perform all of his duties.

Tamlin and I would be the last two to appear for the High Lords meeting, our son Alder on my hip; he was only two now but he had Tamlins golden hair and bright green eyes, you could make out his Dryad heritage though by the smokey black around his fingertips. Tamlin had offered to research my heritage with me to find out more about Dryads for me and our son.

Alder was fascinated by his Uncle Lulu, as he had taken to calling him, and started squirming in my arms the second he saw the ginger leaning against the entrance of his father’s home, His fox-like grin greeted us warmly. 

“Good to see you two again, and as always its great to see my little Alder!” Lucien took the small boy into his arms, offering him a small orb of light to play with.

Tamlin pulled me into his side, “We are going to announce it tonight but we are naming him heir.”

Lucien snorted. “Do you really have to name him heir? He's your only one so far so no one will contest it anyways.” 

Tamlin and I exchanged looks and Lucien glared at us. “Right?”

“Actually, that's part of why we were announcing it tonight.” I started but Lucien interrupted.

“Oh by the mother! You’re having another!” Lucien exclaimed. 

Tamlin and I nodded equally as excited. “We better get in there, though I'm sure they can excuse us for the lateness due to Alder refusing to get dressed into nicer clothes.”

Lucien snorted and passed Alder back to Tamlin. “Then let's get in there, shall we?” 

+

The meeting went extremely well, all the other courts were excited to welcome Alder as the heir of spring and happily congratulated us on the other arrival that would be coming soon. 

I had introduced Alder to Feyre, Rhys and the rest of the inner circle out of duty and not respect. “This is Feyre and Rhys, they are the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, the northernmost point of Prythian.”

Alder furrowed his brows and reached for Tamlin over my shoulder, he swept him away while he conversed with Eris and Lucien. 

“Sister-“ Feyre had started.

“Don’t” I hissed at her, Nesta and Elain backing her up. “You have no right to call me that after what you tried to do to my mate. The last kind act you received from me was the war. Be happy Feyre, but it won't be with me in your life. If you wish to show up Tamlin is throwing a party for Alder’s birthday, he's naming him as heir publicly there.”

I turned from her and  joined back at my mates side, Tamlin had grown since I first met him for sure; he was a good male, a good dad, he was ecstatic about training his children, and he was passionate about his court. I had seen him grow since his heir was born, there had been many a night where Tamlin would ramble on about all the stuff he couldn’t wait to show Alder about his court. He was so ecstatic to have Alder that he had gotten a small golden crown forged for him that was a duplicate to Tamlin’s. 

I was proud of the male I loved, he had come so far and I couldn’t have asked for a better life with him. I just had one last puzzle to figure out: How to tell him I was pregnant with twins, and there would be three children running around Rosehall soon enough.

Taglist: @tamlinweek

[loliwrites]

The One You Need | two

🎶 I spent most my life thinkin' love was out of reach, so maybe just this once, you could be the one I need, if you let me be the one you need 🎶

pairing: neighbor!joel miller x f!reader  rating: explicit, 18+ minors dni  summary: when you move into town hellbent on keeping everyone at an arm’s length, your neighbor Joel finds his way into your life. warnings/tags: au, neighbor joel, age gap [reader is late 20s/early 30s, Joel is late 40s], hyper-independent reader, a bit of a misandrist mindset, past relationships, men vs boys, sexual tension, dubcon [tagging to be safe] [slight alcohol consumption but neither is drunk], verbal consent received, reader described as female, no other physical description, protective!joel, soft!joel, dare i say ei!joel, no use of y/n. word count: 6.1k part one | joel miller masterlist  a/n: i’ve done my best to tag as thoroughly as possible, but if you think i’ve missed something, let me know. & tagging @hausofobsession because charlie's the best

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

It had been three and a half weeks since move in day and a few things had become abundantly clear about your new surroundings.

1. Having your own place rocked. You did what you wanted. You answered to no one. If you wanted to have a one person dance party at two in the morning, you did. No downstairs neighbors hollered and banged on their ceiling – your floor. You could paint the walls whatever color you wanted and tear up the flooring if you had the impulse to. Nothing ever again had to be “renter friendly” .

2. Having your own place was a lot of work. There were any number of things that seemed to break, leak, or hang crooked on any given day and instead of ringing up a landlord and complaining, you could only complain to yourself… And then figure out how to fix the broken, leaky, or wonky thing. And it boggled your mind how dust and grime seemed to manifest out of nothingness. Rooms you don’t even remember stepping foot into had somehow acquired a thin film of dust. You were constantly cleaning something or fixing something, and in the most unfortunate of times, your cleaning of something resulted in you also needing to fix it. If anything, owning a home had reinforced to you that you were indeed the man in your life.

3. Joel Miller was practically the mayor of the neighborhood. Everyone knew him. It was impossible to spend any amount of time in the yard and not be bombarded with Joel Miller, Joel Miller, Joel Miller. While he wasn’t particularly outgoing, he seemed to be there when someone needed help. Whether it was Mrs. Cole with her grocery bags or the young, single mother next door to him who needed someone to put her son’s basketball hoop together. He was an everyman. And though he had helped you in a big way on your first day as part of the neighborhood, you’d spent the past few weeks dodging him as much as possible. 

4. And lastly, you needed his help again. At some point during the week, a foul odor had wafted through the entirety of your home. And short of thinking an animal had crawled up and died within the walls, you began scouring the house with as much disinfectant as your sense of smell would allow. Every inch of every room was scrubbed down, and when that still didn’t get rid of the odor, you figured it was time to call an exterminator. Dehydrated, hungry, and about to snap, you opened the refrigerator and was punched in the face by warm, smelly air that burned your nose more than the disinfectant. Ah, the source. 

How long the fridge hadn’t been working, you didn’t know. What you did know was that all the perishables – namely the dairy products – had certainly perished. And after three hours on the phone with a local handyman you’d found online, his ultimate advice was, “get a new refrigerator”. On a normal day, that was easily said and done. You would’ve ordered one the same day and gotten it delivered the next. Only, you’d spent the week prior throwing an obscene amount of money at new furniture to fill the oodles and oodles of empty space you now found yourself inhabiting.

You had genuinely thought about asking Joel for help that same day. At least to get the fridge out of the house because you were sure the smell wouldn’t leave until the entire appliance did. But when you looked out your window, his truck wasn’t in his driveway. And it didn’t arrive back until late that night. There was no way you were going to burden him so late, so you cracked some windows and told yourself you’d ask him in the morning. But the next morning when you Houdini’d yourself out of bed and made a pot of coffee, his truck was already out of the driveway again. An hour and a half later of throwing everything out and deep cleaning it, the fridge didn’t nearly smell as bad. And after a while, you kind of just let it be.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

Saturday. A day of rest. Except you were standing on Joel’s porch, curling your hand into a fist to rap your knuckles against his door, about to ask him to do a little work. A shred of guilt was growing inside of you. Yes, he had said to reach out if you needed something. He’d been nothing but neighborly. But you knew what you were doing. The thing where you use a boy for your gain but have nothing to offer in return. 

Joel opened his front door, breathing a little heavier than normal with a sheen of sweat over his face and down his neck. He appeared to be completely clothed, but whether or not you’d caught him in a state of undress and he threw this on, you had no idea. From what you’d observed by peeking out your front window, the single mother that lived next door to him seemed to have a little bit of a crush. Perhaps that crush was reciprocated on his end.

“Sorry, am I interrupting something?” You squinted your eyes shut and partially shielded them with your hand.

“What?” He looked down at himself, tugging on his shirt, “no, I just got in from doing yard work out back.” Joel took a deep breath and slowly let it exhale. He remembered when he could be working hard all day and not even feel it. Now there were days when he went up the stairs in his house and got winded. “How ya’ doin?”

“Good, I… I need your help again,”

Joel grinned, something cheeky that you wanted to slap right off his face.

“Don’t look too excited about it. My fridge is on the fritz and it’s too heavy for me to move,”

There was a part of him that wanted to bring to attention that this was the second time in less than a month that you were coming to him for help. Ultimately he thought better of it. The hard line of your lips and narrowness of your eyes clued him in that you were waiting to rebuke anything he might say. Instead he disappeared from the doorway, leaving you utterly confused, only to return a minute later with an old metal toolbox in hand. He stepped out onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind him.

“No, it’s not getting fixed. I’m getting a new one,”

He quirked his eyebrows and looked down at you, “that fridge is only three years old.” He stepped off his porch and started toward your house.

You took a few quick steps to catch up with him, falling in line and then keeping up that pace to stay even with him. It did look like a fairly modern make. “How do you know that?”

“‘Cause I helped Mrs. Wilson get it in her house three years ago. I’d told her to get that fridge because I knew it’d last. Now unless you or Mrs. Wilson did something on it that it’s not meant for, it should still be perfectly fine.”

“What’re you implying?”

Joel shot a wink in your direction, “you have any male suitors over lately? Get a little frisky in the kitchen over dinner?”

Your jaw dropped as you followed Joel up your porch steps. “No! You can see my house from your house. You know I haven’t had anyone over,”

“I don’t spy on my neighbors.” He walked through your door after you’d opened it for him, “are you spyin’ on me?”

“No, I’m not,” you protested, leading him into the kitchen and directing him toward the problem appliance. “But I do know that next-door neighbor of yours, fancies you,”

“Fancies me?”

“Mhm. She twirls her hair every time she talks to you,”

Joel set the toolbox down on the counter and angled his body at the fridge, “does she now?” He wrapped his arms around it, fingers gripping to the sides, and began to shimmy the entire thing out from its little cubbyhole.

The whole display was rather impressive. Despite actively not yearning or searching for a relationship, acts of masculinity did get you going. It was the double-edged sword that lived inside you. Boys – can’t live with them; can’t live without them. Just because you couldn’t rely on men, didn’t mean the desire to sleep with them wasn’t there. But even you knew, that under no circumstances, were you to sleep or have any sort of sexual contact with Joel Miller. Even if he was a rugged display of masculinity. With sinewy muscles that strained beneath his skin when he flexed them. And fingers that surely knew how to wrap around more than just the handle end of a hammer. He was your neighbor. You weren’t going to shit where you ate. But by God if he didn’t look like a delicious meal. 

It’s the reason you picked up so quickly on the tell-tale signs of attraction by Little Miss Next Door Neighbor. She was looking at him the way all women did when they wanted to be swept up by a man. They wanted to be handled, and led, and submissive. Something you could never be. To a man? Absolutely not. 

This argument you were having with no one but yourself was interrupted when Joel called your name with a tone that indicated to you it wasn’t the first or second time he was calling it. You blinked and focused your eyes, finding he was only partially visible – most of him being shrouded by the fridge that he now stood behind.

“S’not working because it’s dirty. Do you have a handheld vacuum?”

Approaching him, you contorted your body around it to sneak a peek at what he was looking at. “It stopped working because it’s dirty?”

“Could be somethin’ faulty inside, but the condenser coils and gasket seals are a mess. My guess is it’s just that,”

“I called some handyman and he told me I needed a brand new fridge,”

Joel peeked his head out to look at you, “why you callin’ some random handyman when you got one ‘cross the street?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “I was going to but you worked weird hours this week and were never home when I looked out my window.”

“So you are spying on me,” he chuckled. “That’s why you’re jealous of Kelly,”

“Who’s jealous?!” It wasn’t lost on you that your voice rose about an octave or two higher than your normal register. You were sure Joel clocked that, too. “I’m just making sure you know she’s got a big ol’ schoolgirl crush on you,”

“She doesn’t ‘cause we’ve gone out before and it wasn’t a match.”

“Does she know that?” 

“I’d say she does,”

You smirked, having a little fun poking the bear. “How do you know?”

“Because when a woman gets naked and propositions a man for sex, and he says no, it’s usually a pretty definitive sign.”

“Yeah, right,” you laughed incredulously, “no man looks at a woman who’s ready to fuck and says no to her.”

“This man does,” he looked you dead in the eyes and held your gaze. “You got a vacuum?”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

The resoluteness of Joel’s answer had honestly come as a shock. It was something you knew you’d want to circle back on at some point simply because of how insane it seemed. A straight guy turning down sex from a woman? He had to have been the first man in history to do so. The thought kept you busy while your refrigerator kept him busy. Coincidentally, you both became significantly less busy around the same time.

“It works again?”

Joel plugged the fridge back into the wall and stepped out from behind it. He wiped his hands in a rag you’d brought out for him, which just happened to be one of your old, white t-shirts. He didn’t seem to care. Or notice. “Gotta give it a few minutes. See if it’s gettin’ cold,'' he looked up at you, noting how you began to get a little more fidgety, looking around. He wasn’t sure why; perhaps just itching to get him out of your house. “You got any food for dinner?”

“Yeah,” you said half-heartedly, thinking about how you were about to endure yet another day of some sad, canned soup. “I can whip up a can of something,”

He shook his head and waved you off, “come by tonight. I’ll fix you a meal,”

“You just fixed my fridge.”

“Maybe,” he smiled.

“I should be cooking you a meal,”

He shook his head vehemently, “I haven’t eaten chicken noodle soup since I was about nine, and I don’t aim to start up again.” He pulled open the fridge door, set his hands on one of the shelves and decided it was slightly colder than it had been just a couple minutes prior. “It should be good to go now,” he loaded up his toolbox and locked it up. “Swing by around seven. If you stand me up, I’m coming back over here and breaking the damn thing,”

“Joel,”

“Seven.”

With that, he was out before you could protest again. Somehow both of you knew you’d be showing up to his house that night. Annoyance bubbled up at your surface with the realization that not only did you know you weren’t going to disobey him, but he knew it too. The few hours between him leaving and you showing back up on his porch for dinner had been spent sulking. Whatever this was becoming – you weren’t sure what just friendship looked like with a boy because no single, unattached boy you’d ever met only wanted friendship – was getting to be too much. There needed to be a line drawn in the sand. You needed to draw the line in the sand. And more importantly, after the line was drawn, you and Joel needed to be securely on opposite sides of it.

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

But curse this man and his ability to put ideas in your head. Horrible, awful, domestic ideas. The sorts of ideas that made you think this image of him: on the back porch with a beer in one hand and a pair of tongs in the other, a dish towel slung over his shoulder for quick access, flipping over and inspecting a couple steaks, chewing on his bottom lip as he pondered how close to medium they were getting… was an image you could get used to seeing.

It was how all boys in the past had gotten you.

They wooed you with their little acts here and there of masculinity. Or their wit. Or just cute looks. They made you believe that they were different. That they were honest, and open, and evolved. And you’d get sucked in and follow the white rabbit down the hole. For a while it’d all be good. You would actually believe that you had found an evolved man that you could coexist with and be happy. But after the momentary bliss, you’d come to realize that the wool had been pulled over your eyes. You’d been deceived and lied to. The boy could not manage his own emotions, let alone understand yours. You’d sit in the anger that you betrayed your sense of self to make room for this boy, and only when you’d talked yourself far enough off the ledge, you’d explode like a time bomb. Afterwards, a tiny piece of you would be the only thing left to go around picking up all the other little fragments of yourself. And you’d put yourself back together with tape and a promise that you wouldn’t ever allow another to break you like that again. That is, until another boy found his way to you and made you think he was different. And thus the cycle continued.

“You have family out here?” Joel looked up from the barbecue and took a sip of his beer while he waited for you to answer.

Taking a step forward and buying some time by swigging down a gulp of your beer, you shook your head. “They’re all in California still. Just had to get away. What about you?”

He nodded and closed the grill, “Sarah’s a few hours away at school and her mom’s ‘bout a half hour away. But my brother’s here. I work with him actually,”

“You must be close with him,”

Joel nodded absently.

“But no wife for Joel Miller,” you smiled, half-hidden by your bottle. “I take it no girlfriend either since apparently you don’t like getting laid,”

He laughed. It was the first real, hearty laugh you’d heard from him. It seemed to shake his whole body and he opened the grill back up and plucked the steaks off it, depositing them on an awaiting plate. “I like getting laid. It might be my favorite thing to do,”

“That’s why I think you’re full of shit. Turning down, what’s her name…”

“Kelly…”

“You’re telling me,” you approached Joel slowly, got right up close to him, and dragged a delicate finger over one of his shoulders and down his bicep to prove a point. “A woman… an attractive woman, I’d say… stripped down in front of you, told you to have your way with her, and you said no thanks,”

Joel watched your finger. His tongue poked out of his mouth quickly to lick his lips before he flashed his eyes back to you, obviously finding great pleasure that his gaze in this close proximity made you avert your own eyes downward. “Exactly,”

You half-smiled and shook your head as you took a step back, “bullshit.”

He shut off the grill and scooped the plate up. “Explain to me why you think that’s bullshit,” he meandered past you and pulled his back door open, allowing you the chance to walk in first before he followed you in.

Instinctively, you progressed into the kitchen, where two stools at the counter were awaiting with place settings. You perched in one while Joel set the steaks down by you and continued to the oven where he pulled out a tray of roasted vegetables. “Because you’re a guy,”

“Man,” he corrected and started placing food on your plate.

“A man,” you mocked. When he finished giving you food and moved onto his, “thank you. And men don’t do that. They chase pleasure. They get their dick wet and they move on down the line, leaving a path of destruction in their wake,”

This time, Joel waited to respond until he was seated next to you. He clinked his bottle against yours, “thanks for coming over.”

“To be honest, I was actually afraid you’d blow up my fridge and I can’t really afford a new one right now,”

“But I’m gonna have to disagree with you,” he focused on his plate and cut into his steak. Seemingly pleased with the degree with which it was cooked, he took a first bite. “Men don’t only care, as you so delicately put, about getting their dick wet.”

“Joel, come on, you know…”

“Boys do. For sure. A boy would look at you, a beautiful woman, and see a direct path to his pleasure. Absolutely. And a boy probably wouldn’t care too much about whether or not you were getting as much out of it as he was. ‘Cause he’s getting his, right?”

You nodded, silently pushing a mixture of steak and veggies into your mouth, enraptured with where he was going to take this conversation. And slightly unable to concentrate past the point of having heard him call you beautiful. 

“Men don’t do that. A man would look at you and see that yes, you’re a beautiful woman. But he’d also see that you’ve got a helluva brain, and you’re witty, and funny, and more than a little stubborn. He’d see that you hold yourself and everyone else to a high standard, and he’d want to meet it. And when he slept with you, he’d want to make sure you were getting more out of it than he was,”

Awe-struck was the only word to describe how you felt. Was a guy actually verbalizing everything you already believed? That there was a difference between boys and men. And that most guys thought they were men simply because of their age, when you knew age meant nothing in defining a man. 

Joel took a deep breath and finished off his beer, “I turned Kelly down because I knew if I slept with her I’d be taking on a lot more than I wanted to with her. And despite whatever your experience with men might be, this one’s not out to leave a path of destruction behind him.”

✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿ ✿

What were these complicated feelings inside of you? Someone who prided themselves on being emotionally intelligent and level-headed and yet… you were spinning like a top. On the one hand you wanted to keep everyone a safe arm’s length away, and on the other you wanted Joel to scale the walls you’d constructed and fortified around yourself. For a long time there was an odd sense of accomplishment at how tall and strong you’d managed to build them. Look at how good they were at keeping people out. But now there was someone in front of you that you thought you wanted to let in – only in constructing your walls, you never put in a gate. And that ribbon of apathy, and the moments of enduring loneliness, maybe it was all self-inflicted.

Who knew how to hurt you better than you?

The beer helped dull those thoughts. Finishing off the second as the conversation meandered through Joel’s last relationship. A topic that would’ve given you supreme pause, and yet he recounted it with ease as if he were just a court reporter, tasked with jotting down the facts. He even acknowledged his role in the dissolution of that relationship. His eyes seemed to glaze over and travel to a distant land as he described all the ways he didn’t measure up. How he was never quite what that woman wanted. And how he had no idea how to become what she wanted. On the flip side, he admitted she’d started off as someone that only saw the moon with him. She’d kept some nights from being too cold and lonely. Only when a certain amount of time passed, did she speak up and sort of declare a relationship was there. 

That conversation ended when a third bottle was grabbed for each and moved to the living room. Both on the couch, you with your back pressed up against one of the arm’s of it. Your knees bent with feet planted securely on the cushion. And Joel sitting as close as he could with your legs creating a physical boundary between you. Even his thigh covered your toes, as if seeing how close to the boundary he could get. Despite feeling like this was someone you wanted to let through your walls, however temporarily, your brain still managed to cut off any inkling from your heart – using your body as the vehicle to keep everyone at bay.

“Hmm?” Joel hummed and grabbed your attention back to the present. “‘S’not fair leaving me hanging after I just spilled all my gory relationship details. What about yours?”

You shook your head, trying to appear innocent, “there’s not much to say.”

“Say anything,”

Staring at him, you took a deep breath and a generous sip of your new beer. Then feeling on the good side of buzzed, you stretched forward to move for the coffee table. Seeing your plight and the awkwardness of the angle given that you weren’t inclined to lower your legs to make the action smoother, Joel leaned forward, gently took the bottle from your hands and set it on the table for you.  

“He was nice at the start. A bit older than me. I thought it meant we’d be on the same wavelength for once, y’know? That he’d outgrown the frat boy, tool bag phase and moved into a more evolved one. It got physical quick and it was… awful.” You glanced down at your hands, remembering for the first time in a while about what sleeping with that guy felt like – a trial run with hari-kari, complete and self-inflicted betrayal.

With your pause and sensing obvious discomfort, Joel reached across his body and got a loose grip on your shin. He gave it a soft squeeze that felt like permission to stop if you were so inclined. But it didn’t hurt like it used to; as if you had been able to remove yourself from the equation and were now just recounting the plot of some terrible film you’d seen once.

Shrugging and with a half-smile he couldn’t place, you looked back up at Joel, “he had a good time.”

“Was it ever good for you?” He mumbled as though he didn’t actually want to hear the answer. And because you hadn’t reacted in any way to his hand on your shin, he took a chance and used that grip to lower your leg across his lap.

“No, but I’m a helluva actress.”

He raised his eyebrows and absently took hold of your other leg and lowered that one across his lap, too. Now the literal barrier you’d put between you had been carefully circumvented. “He never stopped to figure it out?”

You shook your head, “he was getting his, Joel. See, it’s hard to figure out when you’re dealing with a boy. They hide it well,”

Joel reached forward and set his half-empty beer next to yours on the coffee table. When he reclined back to his previous position, his hands migrated to your feet and squeezed them with a familiarity of an old married couple who’d been practicing this dance for decades.

“It ended two and a half years ago, so a distant memory,”

He only nodded. You thought he’d have something about that. Something like what’ve you been doing for two years without a man. But maybe he figured you were doing just fine. Probably better. So he only squeezed your feet again before his hands migrated a little further north to your knees, fingers just barely dipping between your thighs that you’d managed to keep pressed together. Finally he asked:

“No fillers in the meantime?”

It made you laugh. Any number of innuendo could be applied to his question. It was also at this point that you felt your resolve fading. The will to keep him at bay becoming less of a conscious effort. “No fillers. Not really my style,”

“Not a one night stand kinda girl?” He smirked and shot a playful glance at you. There was no chance he was unaware that the press of your thighs together had lessened. Any further action of his hand would’ve resulted in him going wherever he wanted, however he wanted. But he didn’t. His hand remained where it was, gaining no further purchase and adding no extra pressure.

“Would you be if sex was never good for you?”

He chuckled and threw his head back against the couch, “fair enough.” He shook his head, absently staring at the ceiling. Only when he’d gathered his thoughts and words did he shift his gaze back to you. “People are simple creatures,” there was a slight pause and though you opened your mouth to refute that, he continued first. “I mean the biology part. It’s not hard to get a woman off,”

“Okay, hotshot. Let me go get a horn for you to toot a little louder,”

He grinned widely, showing off nearly every tooth in his mouth. The look made you smile as well – like a kid getting caught opening presents before Christmas. “There’s a lot of hard tasks in this world,” he pursed his lips and shrugged, “making a woman come isn’t one of them.”

The heat you’d felt rising in your chest and neck after he’d successfully moved your mattress into your bedroom was returning. Only this time, you felt it settle in your cheeks, and you wondered if he was aware of it. Your eyes were glued to him, wide, trying to pick up on as much visual information they could get. What you found was Joel adding the slightest of pressure between your knees to spread your thighs just enough for him to pivot on the couch and face you squarely.

You swallowed down a lump in your throat, eyes flicking over the sight of him: the way graying curls moved across his forehead, or the way his eyes never left yours. Not even for a second. Not even when he was positioning himself closer to you, kneeling back on his shins with his thighs nudging yours upward at an angle. He smiled softly, a gentle thing that instantly put you at greater ease, and leaned in closer to you, planting his hands on the couch on either side of your chest.

“Can I kiss you?” His focus wandered down to your lips when they parted. 

In all your years of life, no one had ever asked that, and it took you aback, scrambling to make sense of the English you believed you were fluent in. But you nodded quickly and assumed that would’ve been the green light. Probably would’ve for most people, but as you were coming to learn, Joel wasn’t quite like most people.

He smiled and bowed his head, taking a breath to gather himself. In the meantime, his hair was close to your nose and the muskiness of his scent was everything you thought and wanted it to be. He raised his head and looked at you again, his eyes practically pleading. “Can we make that verbal?”

“Yes,” you exhaled. But when it didn’t result in his lips meeting yours with haste, you tried again. “Kiss me,”

Like a fire ignited under him, Joel closed the rest of the gap between you. Hands drifting to your cheeks, he cupped your head with the most practiced of ease and pressed his mouth to yours, first with closed lips to test the waters before the next action was the parting of his lips on yours. His tongue searched for entrance into your mouth, finding it when a soft breath was exhaled.

While trying not to talk yourself out of this moment, you also tried to think about the last time you’d been kissed like this. Or kissed at all, period. But like this, with want, and desire, and passion. Like all of Joel was made for this exact moment: to kiss you with the intention of every fiber of his being; to make your brain go foggy and blur out everything that did not add to this need. It was as if he could sense you slipping away from him, focused elsewhere instead of letting yourself buy into this, and he recaptured you with a soft bite to your lower lip. He re-positioned his hands; one at the side of your neck and jaw, and the other gripping onto your hip, adjusting you further until your ass was pressed up against his crotch. 

He forced himself to pull back, slight enough to be able to speak but still close enough to press his forehead against yours. “Stay with me. Don’t go somewhere else,” 

Your instinct was to protest, that you weren’t about to leave, but realized he’d picked up on the thing you were wondering about. The thing no guy had ever picked up on, or cared to, before. The distance your brain was willing to create between itself and your body.

“Joel,” you whispered, sounding slightly more needy than you would’ve hoped. 

“I know,” he murmured back. His hand ditched your hip for a split second and took hold of your wrist. Led it up over his shoulder and to the back of his neck, until the backs of your fingers brushed along the ends of his hair. Without fail, you softly clutched into it. “Stay with me. Right here,” his hand went back to your hip and your lips reconnected. Open-mouthed with his tongue pressing into yours. He tilted his head to the side and groaned into your mouth, sending a vibration down your throat, past your chest, through your stomach, and straight to your core.

You hummed back into his mouth, for once closing your eyes and letting yourself live in the feeling his lips could administer. The heat that had already been living in your cheeks seemed to amplify with the size of him around you. His broad shoulders meeting a wide chest that seemed to dwarf you. Large hands that effortlessly cupped around your hip or engulfed your cheek. He was everywhere at once and when he ducked his head lower to kiss your neck, landing a love bite on your jugular, it took extra measures to keep yourself grounded and there for him.

Your hand slowly released the hair at the nape of his neck, and slid down over his shoulder to his chest, followed the seam at the side of his t-shirt until your fingertips reached the hem at the bottom. With fingers tucking beneath the fabric and meeting the skin at his oblique, you felt him exhale a hot breath against your neck, his hips shifting beneath you. As you ran your hand north, you took stock of the muscles your fingers passed, and how while still present and firm, they’d grown less pronounced with age. A softness to his body that he’d earned the right to after years of hard labor. Or so you assumed by the feeling of calloused hands on you. 

Gauging what you wanted from him as your hands worked their way upward, pushing his shirt up with them, he groaned not wanting to take his lips off your neck, but doing so anyway to sit back. With a swift motion, he tugged his shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor unceremoniously. He wiped his hand down over his mouth and shook his head as if in disbelief as he pressed his hands back into the couch on either side of you, “god, you’re fucking gorgeous.”

His eyes danced their way over every feature on your face as if trying to commit them to memory, before they drifted lower, down to where your hips met his. But all this unadulterated looking sparked a flame of timidness inside you, and your instinct to quell the nerves was to grab for him, urging him back to you. If he was busy with his lips on you – any part of you – it’d keep his eyes from boring holes into you. His lips met yours again with fervor, this time forcing his tongue into your mouth. A helpless moan floated out of your throat and Joel responded by laying a hand at your neck. Fingers around it but applying no pressure.

“Bed. Please,” you whispered so low you wondered if you had wanted him to hear it or not. 

But it was like he was attuned to you and your body more than any previous guy had been. And in hearing your request, he moved his lips back to your neck and you felt a smile spread across his face, pressing against your skin.

“Please tell me you’re not drunk,” he mumbled against your skin. So tight that it distorted his words and had you humming for instant clarification. He lifted his head and looked back down at you, as if his eyes alone would be able to figure out the answer. “Drunk?”

You ran your hands up to his chest, “on two and a half beers?”

“That’s not an answer,” he let out a breath and drifted his hand from your neck, down to your chest where he gave one of your breasts a squeeze. You noticed at the same moment, he reached around to your ass but avoided it to simply adjust himself in his jeans.

“I’d have to be drunk to want to sleep with you?”

“I reckon it’d help,” he grinned boyishly and bent in again for another tongue-led kiss as though he couldn’t help himself.

You grabbed either side of his face in your hands and curled your fingers into his beard. “Not drunk, just want you,” there was a lack of movement on his end and you weren’t sure if he was short-circuiting or trying to figure out if someone your size could indeed get drunk on two and a half beers. Either way, you tapped his ribs, “now, if possible.”

[dejwritesarchived]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀─── ⠀ ⠀⠀ make up⠀ 〳 ⠀ j.todd ‵

❪ ♡ ❫ ─── ( synopsis ) even after a harsh argument, he still finds his way back at your door.

♡ ˙ ˖ ✧ — reading discretion is advised: female reader, her/she pronouns, female anatomy, written with black reader in mind, same y/n & jason from this one shot, profanity, angst (implied argument between reader and jason), mentions of bruises/cuts, jason meets reader's parents in this, him asking whose is it was extremely self indulgent ok, pet names (baby, listen you guys can't unclench this pet name out my hand when it comes to jason), mentions of children, reader and jason make up after an argument in reader's childhood bedroom lol, soft smut yay, oral (f.receiving), missionary position, i guess slight mating press positon, breeding kink (try to unclench this kink away from and i'll bite you), wc: 3.6k, minors dni pls

YOUR ARGUMENTS NEVER DRAGGED OUT LIKE THIS. They were always little and ended with mumbled apologies and hush kisses after heated words. However, this argument left the most hideous knot in your stomach whenever your mind wandered off to think about it. You never went over two days not speaking to your boyfriend Jason, it was never in the both of your nature to not at least hear each other voice. Even if it was for a split second, the two of you always found a way to talk to each other. Perhaps that's why these past couple of days have been rough for you.

A simple disagreement about communication was an explosive time bomb that caused you to question where your own relationship stood at the moment. You found your eyes watering thinking about how upset Jason was before storming out of your apartment. The sound of the door slamming still played in your head like a horrendous loop of a chilling Halloween tune. One day turned into two days and two days turned into three—still no word of him. Your pride not wanting to message him since you weren't even sure he understood why you were so frustrated at him.

"Hey sweetheart, I can't wait until you and Jason get here. I know you said, he didn't have any specific request for dinner tonight, but I think I went a little overboard" You remembered your mom saying before you left to venture towards your childhood home.

You had forgotten all about Jason meeting your parents this weekend. You couldn't even come up with an excuse on why he wasn't coming. If you told them that you and he were taking a break, your parents would most likely not like him. So, here you were showing up with just yourself and some excuse on behalf of Jason. Maybe you can say his grandfather got sick? Had to babysit his younger brother? Anything to avoid any other curious questions from your parents. Praying that within your time of not seeing them for a while, they would no longer be able to read you like a book similar to when you were a teenager.

However, the time has come, and here you were sitting at the dinner table—alone and with silence swallowing you and your parents up bit by bit. You sipped at your wine nervously before it was your mom addressing the elephant in the room of your missing boyfriend that you spent the past couple of weeks gloating about how excited you were for him to finally meet them. Your mother's lips parted to speak, but the sound of the doorbell interjected in her concerning words for you.

"I'll get it," Your father firmly said before he's standing to go answer the door.

As soon as your father was out of sight, your mom leaned over a bit to get a closer look at you. She took note of the way you were avoiding her direct eye contact, "Sweetie, did something happen between you and Jason?" Her hands reach over to caress your hand.

"You know you can speak to me about anything," She comforts you like the way she did during your first high school breakup.

You were trying so hard not to cry. Your eyes were aching to let a tear finally come tumbling down your cheeks simply because you missed him. But the sound of a familiar laugh causes your head to snap towards the entry of the dining room. There he stood with a black eye a bruised lip and that stupid grin he always gives you. Jason Todd.

"I apologize for being late," Jason says as he placed a kiss on the top of your head before taking the seat next to you at the dinner table.f

You could tell that your mom was suspicious of Jason, her eyes darting from you who had plastered a smile on your face, and back to Jason. He managed to butter your father up with some joke and an expensive bottle of scotch you were sure Jason probably snagged from Bruce when Alfred wasn't around. "I just got caught up with work." He says.

Your mom darkly chuckles. You wanted to mentally roll your eyes at the way the kind sweet welcome basket-making mom went away with a quickness. Now, the protective mother lion attempting to protect her cub demeanor was on. "Work? Huh? What exactly do you do?" She asks.

"Jesus! At least let the kid put food on his plate first." Your dad sighs with a head shake.

Jason returned the chuckle and gave your mom a grin. You weren't sure what excuse he was going to give her. You just knew the true occupation would have your parents banning you were seeing Jason as if you were Rapunzel herself.

Jason motions to the bruises that decorated his face like a used art canvas. "Boxing." He said with a grin.

You watched your mom shift in her seat. It was as if she was searching for if he was telling the truth or not. You wanted to tell her that this trick only worked on yourself and your father, but you just sat back passing whatever food Jason's eyes lit up seeing. After all, your mom did cook all of this for him. As soon as his plate was full, he dug it. He had a quite large appetite.

"So, are you pro or trying to become pro?" Your father asked as he was eating also.

You knew anything about sports would get your dad excited. He used to coach your high school basketball team.

"I'm trying to, hence the fact that I was late. I want to apologize again for that, I know this was very important for you two and Y/N." His eyes glances over you before you could feel him grabbing your hand under the table.

Could he sense that you were beyond out of it at the moment? Your mind was racing with so many questions? He just showed up after the two of you haven't talked for days. Eating with your family like the two of you haven't shared severe words towards each other.

"No need to apologize, she seems happy that you came and that's all that matters." Your mom answered before her lips finally curve into a smile. "She talks so much about you that we just had to meet the guy that has our daughter so lovestruck in Gotham." She pushes around the vegetables on her plate.

"Hopefully, she has only told you good things," Jason says.

"You know the usual. He's so cute. I really think I love him. We'll make such cute babies...the usual things." Your mom says.

"I didn't say the last thing." You said out loud.

"So, you don't think you and I will make cute babies?" Jason playfully nudges your shoulder. "Come on, they'll have the most cutest nose because they'll have your nose and my eyes." He says with a grin.

There goes that grin again. That grin causes your body to instantly heat up and all the blood to rush to your cheeks. Despite being so confused about the situation, you still returned the smile that you were trying so hard to hold back. "I didn't say that. It's just, I haven't mentioned anything about babies to her. The other statements are true though."

Jason laughs, "I know."

You could feel the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on your palm. How can he make you feel at home even though you were technically in your childhood home? He made you feel so safe and cherished.

The night went on with Jason wooing the hearts of your parents. He had a drink with your father in your father's study, most likely giving Jason the somewhat-threatening threat in case Jason broke your heart. Jason even helped your mom put away the leftover food that was left. As soon as the moon peaked through the curtains of the house, it was time for everyone to call it a night. You got ready for bed after showering, most likely settling in bed to go to sleep. You knew your mom would purposely have her book club ladies at the house the following morning just so she can show off her future son-in-law.

As you were in bed reading a book, you could hear Jason come into your room after showering. He's rubbing a towel through his damp dark locs while a white towel was wrapped around his waist hiding away his lower half you have seen countless times. You hated to admit that your curious eyes glanced up from the romanticized words in your book to peek at him while he was looking through his suitcase for something to wear to bed. Droplets of water staining his toned chest followed by the glorious site of happy trail—that went so well with the well-sculptured v-line that was on display.

Your lip grazed at your chapstick-covered lips before you realized you were staring. You quickly averted your eyes back to your book, but your attention was tugged away once again due to Jason's words.

"I'm sorry, that argument we had was so fuckin' stupid." He admitted. His back was turned from you, but you knew he had a look of regret on his face. "I shouldn't have said what I said."

"It's okay. I figured you were sorry as soon as you came here. If you wouldn't have shown up, I would have assumed our relationship was done." You truthfully admitted.

Jason turned around and the look of horror that was on his face caught you off guard. You could even see his lip twitch in annoyance at you even thinking about the mere thought of you two breaking up. "Please, never think about something like that." He takes a couple of steps to be by your side.

"We'll figure it out, we'll talk it out. That's what we do." He firmly said.

And that was true. Every argument, you two figured it out. You sat down and communicated with each other. Perhaps this argument just got a little too heated due to the overwhelming amounts of stress on both ends. With Jason and his Red Hood activities and your life at work, it was bound for both of you two explode like a ticking time bomb. You just exploded at each other though.

“I know.” Your voice trails off as you looked down. Finally realizing that your argument was silly, could have been resolved if the two of you weren’t so stubborn.

Jason’s tall stature is hovering over you before he’s lifting your face up to look at him. “Don’t have such a down face.” He’s leaning down peppering your face with subtle kisses gaining a giggle from you.

"Jason, stop! Your towel is going to drop." You said through your faint giggles.

"Let it," Jason responded before he entrapped your lips.

His kiss forced you to fall back on your bed, your body pushing yourself further on it to give Jason space to climb on top of you, which he did with a quickness while being sure to not squish you with his weight. Through subtle breaks between the kisses, you’re mumbling against Jason’s lips. “I missed you so much.” 

It was true. The days without him not being next to you in bed felt empty & quiet. You missed the warmth of being in his arms after a long day. You missed his soft grumbles while he was sleeping so close to you not wanting to let go. You just missed him.

“We miss you too baby,” Jason spoke back against your lips. 

His tongue is stained with the taste of mint toothpaste traces alongside the outline of your lower lip. You could even feel him grind against you a bit, feeling the imprint of his hardened cock against the inside of your thigh. That’s what he meant when he said we. 

Your hand slipped between the two of your bodies, gracefully brushing against his heated skin to tug the towel down. Your hand grazed against his hardened cock causing him to tug away to let out a relaxed sigh. Jason begins to kiss your neck, indulging in the scent of you that he missed so much. His hand grabbed ahead of yours which was so desperate to make him feel good. He pinned them above your head and kissed his way back to your kiss-swollen lips.

He mumbles against your delicate skin, "I want to make you feel good."

His callous fingertips danced down your body until they found their way into your underwear. The oversized t-shirt that once belonged to Jason was pushed up just so he could have better access to you and what was his. He hooked his fingers upon your underwear to tug them down your smooth legs. Tossing the piece of fabric so carelessly behind him before he kneeled down. His hand tugged you closer to the edge of the bed. His lips pressed teasing kisses on the inside of your thigh.

He was so eager to get a taste of you and you could tell by how eager his kisses got as he got closer to your drooling cunt. You relaxed under his touch when you finally felt his face fully in between your thighs. Your breath instantly hitched in your throat feeling the way Jason's tongue glided against your puffy lips. Your hand instantly went to grasp for his hair as felt the wet kisses upon your sensitive bud. "Jason, stop the teasin' please." You whimpered out.

You gained a hum from your boyfriend as he made direct eye contact while he was letting the flat of his tongue collect all your juices before he was back paying attention to his task. His eyes closed as if he wanted to focus on making sure you came. Each time you attempted to squirm away from him, his arms only pinned you back down forcing you to endure him. After all, he hasn't had a taste of you in a while—it's the least you could do.

As soon as you felt his tongue trace alongside your sopping entrance of your pussy, you felt yourself rocking upon his face in the most pornographic manner. You prompt yourself up on your shoulder assuring Jason how well he was making you feel. The fiery pit that was bubbling in the pit of your stomach was slowly approaching. The only thing you could let out was the moans that encourage Jason some more. "Don't stop Jason, I'm so close." You panted out.

As soon as he heard them words, Jason's tongue begin to rapidly flicker at your clit. He insert his index and middle fingers and his dick appeared to grow harder feeling how wet you were. His fingers weren't shy to make you feel just as good as his mouth. He was sure to pump them inside you at the pace you loved. He felt you tighten around his finger, but that didn't stop Jason from removing himself from between your thighs. Your body shook so violently while your hips rocked against Jason riding out your drastic orgasm. You exhaled sharply letting out a dragged-out moan of pleasure and as soon as Jason's mouth was no longer on you—you felt so empty.

"Gosh, you look so beautiful like this," said Jason as he was letting his tongue glide across his lips collecting any more of you that stained his mouth.

Jason was a very passionate lover at times. It all depended on his mood and the situation. Tonight, you couldn't tell which side you were going to get. But from the way he left you a panting disaster after being in between your thighs—you knew he wanted to prove something to you. Perhaps he missed you during the days you two weren't speaking. As Jason climbed on top of you, his hand lining himself up at your soaked entrance, his tip that oozed with precum teasingly brushed against you.

Before your lips parted to mumble a sarcastic complaint, Jason's cock shoved its way inside you bit by bit shutting you up completely. Your head sank into the pillow under your head and your hand flew up to grasp at Jason, "It's okay baby, you just haven't had my dick in you in a while." He cooed down at you.

By his cocky tone, you weren't sure if he was praising you or mocking you. He leaned down to pepper your face with soft kisses, "I'm going to start movin', okay?" He adds.

Jason begins to move slowly. He didn't want to hurt you or anything, so until now his strokes were slow and steady. It kinda felt like the first time you two had made love. You remembered the vivid memory of when Jason first said I love you. It took you by shock because you weren't even sure he meant it. However, the way he made love to you that night proved it.

With each move of his hips, Jason gained a moan from you. From broken gasp to subtle mumbles of his name, he was putting his all into making sure you felt good. Most likely putting his own pleasure on the backburning just to hear you coo out his name a little louder in the night. When Jason heard your hush moan encouraging him to go faster, he did what he was told like the perfect boyfriend he was.

His pace quickened causing the headboard to your bed to knock against the wall. You were glad your parent's room was down the hall, but you did remember on some nights your mom would leave the master bedroom to get tea when she couldn't sleep. Hopefully, tonight wouldn't be one of those nights.

"Fuck, you feel so good." Jason groaned out.

He tugged his cock out fully and his eyes darkened at the sight of your slick covering his cock. He pushed himself back inside your addicting cunt as if it was the missing puzzle piece to a puzzle. The feeling of you wrapped around him was like an intoxicating drug he couldn't get enough of. Without a word, Jason hooked his muscular arms under your thighs to form the lewdest mating press position.

You were completely trapped under Jason due to each time his hips pushed forward he was bottoming down inside you. The sound of skin slapping against each other echoed the room alongside your broken moans of his name.

"Whose pussy is this?" Jason questioned. Each syllable that passed by his lips, he rammed his hips into your harder.

Usually, you would spit out some bratty comment to get a rise out of the dark-haired male, but tonight in the heat of the moment—you're desperately and proudly moaning out that it was his and only his.

With your legs hooked under Jason's arm, your eyes lolly in the back of your head each time his hips pushed forward. Your pedicured toes curled with each kiss his cock pressed against your cervix. Your fingernails dug into the skin of his limbs grasping to want to intertwine your bodies some more.

"I'm going to cum Jay," You moaned out. A single tear glides down your flushed cheeks.

You finally were able to meet Jason's intense stare. Sweat droplets decorated his forehead and chiseled chest. His face was shaded with the color read through the intense session of passionate sex. "Go ahead and cum. Let it all out, baby." He says.

Jason could feel your thighs quivering under his arms and that caused him to drop them immediately—returning to the ardent missionary position the two of you were previously in. His strokes were slow and sensual. A sign that he was so close to being a cumming mess just like you. His hand went down to rub at your throbbing clit in a circular motion. It was quite amazing how well, Jason knew your body. From the way your lips gasped apart or the way your eyebrows crinkled together—he knew that you were so close to clutching around his cock and that's all that mattered to him right now.

The pleasurable feeling of you pulsing around him drives him to the edge. The grasp he had on you grew a bit tighter and his strokes were a tad bit sloppier. Just a matter of time, he could feel his balls grow heavier. A string of profanity words with a mixture of whines rolled off his tongue as if it was a foreign language. He could feel his body grow hotter due to the load of cum he just released. Just as the vigilante was about to pull out hesitantly due to the overwhelming power of your pussy clutching around him perfectly, you wrapped your legs around his waist. The heel to your feet pressed against his lower back as you trapped him into a kiss indulging in the mess below your waist. The both of you are forced to ride out each other high from makeup sex until your bodies finally gave out on you.

Jason's body collapsed next to yours, you and Jason were completely exhausted while your dazed eyes stared at the white-colored ceiling. Your brain felt like mush while your body still was processing what had just happened.

"You think your parents heard us?" Jason broke the thick silence between the two of you.

"If my mom starts showing you my baby hand-me-downs in the morning, then yes." You rolled over to cuddle against him. Your head promptly laid on his chest as you felt him kiss the top of your head.

"Good thing I didn't pull out then."

TAGS — @maydayaisha @shamelesshoefairy @eiflawriting @lostwanderr @stunnababyyabyyy @bunnyyamor @endeavours-jockstrap @hllokttyairhead @aasouthteranoswife @godessofbucky @cybervei @everstoneluna @scabsaint @saintblk @heejayy @prettyboyyuji @polyqueen101 @diorlov3er @dior-fawn @celestialuffy @venusflytrapstar @cookiemonsterboss @blackwolfqueenzz @trunichole15 @yooniluvbot444 @smileyy-cakee @deeliciious @putridstares @obitohno @aotwarriorsimp @renjiluvermain @spookyblackwitch

[bloodreinasbathwater]

The Art & The Muse

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Artist!Reader

a:n took me forever to post this because I thought it was so boring (overthinking) and my Nico fic has taken up so much time, but here she is the artist and Luke in the official part 1.

Masterlist Link

Summary: A struggling artist finds inspiration in the most unexpected place - a painting class which the famous Luke Hughes has joined. y/n is in awe at his beauty, finding herself fascinated by his masculine beauty.

Part 1

word count - 3500

Y/N's fingers gripped the charcoal pencil with practiced ease as she surveyed the blank canvas before her, a slight furrow in her brow. Around her, the chatter of the other students filled the air, but she found herself quickly tuning it all out, her focus narrowing to the task at hand.

In her mind's eye, she could already see the image she wanted to create: a solitary figure standing on the precipice of a towering cliff, their gaze lost in the vast expanse of the ocean below. It was a scene that had haunted her dreams for weeks, and she couldn't wait to bring it to life.

She shook her head, ridding herself of any new ideas for the time being. This painting class was meant to learn a new perspective, to master the art of realism that had eluded her for the past two years. Her company had been nagging her relentlessly to deliver a new collection, and she knew she needed to regain her focus.

The class had begun, and the instructor - a petite woman with a warm smile and thick accent - was busy demonstrating techniques for sketching the live model posing at the front of the room.

Y/N nodded along absently, her eyes flickering toward the model, but it wasn't long before her gaze was drawn elsewhere.

"Alright, class, let's start with the basics," the instructor said, her voice lilting with an exotic flair. "Pay close attention to the model's posture, the way the light hits their skin. These are the details that will bring your sketch to life."

Y/N hummed in acknowledgement, but her focus had already shifted. Three easels down, sat a man who had immediately captured her attention the moment he'd walked through the door.

His sandy brown curls peeked out from under a well-worn beanie, and his strong, angular features were enough to make Y/N's breath catch in her throat.

She knew she shouldn't stare, that it was rude to ignore the instructor's guidance, but she simply couldn't tear her eyes away. There was something magnetic about this man, from the way he held his charcoal pencil between calloused fingers to the intense focus etched into the lines of his face as he worked.

The instructor had moved on to demonstrating color mixing, but Y/N barely registered the words.

Before she could stop herself, Y/N's hand began to move across the canvas, charcoal leaving bold strokes in its wake. She sketched the curve of his jaw, the slope of his nose, the mesmerizing fullness of his lips. Each line was infused with a reverence, a fascination that had taken hold of her very being.

As the instructor continued to walk the room, offering guidance and critiques, Y/N found herself falling further and further under the spell of this enigmatic stranger.

She should have been following along, observing the live model and honing her own technique, but something about this man had utterly captivated her.

The sharp planes of his shoulders, the flex of muscle in his forearm as he worked - Y/N drank it all in, her fingers moving with a fervor that belied her usual cool, composed demeanor.

This was no longer just a simple sketching exercise; it had transformed into an exploration, a quest to unravel the mysteries hidden within every inch of this man's captivating form.

Y/N's brow furrowed in concentration, her tongue peeking out from between her lips as she navigated the delicate shadows and contours of his features.

She knew, deep down, that this was a risky endeavor - what if he caught her staring? What would the other students think? - but in that moment, none of it mattered.

"Wonderful work, class! Now, let's move on to adding depth and dimension with shading."

Y/N risked another glance in his direction, her breath catching in her throat as she noticed him glance up, his intense gaze sweeping the room.

For a moment, their eyes met, and Y/N felt a jolt of electricity shoot through her. His brow furrowed slightly, as if he'd sensed her scrutiny, and she quickly looked away, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"Oh Jesus Christ, get a grip," she muttered under her breath, determinedly keeping her eyes fixed on her own canvas.

As the class wore on, Y/N found herself growing increasingly distracted, her sketches growing sloppy and unfocused. The instructor's critiques sailed over her head, her mind too preoccupied with unravelling the mystery of the alluring stranger.

Finally, the lesson drew to a close, and Y/N let out a quiet sigh of relief. Quickly, she gathered her supplies, eager to make a hasty exit before the man had a chance to notice her. But just as she turned to leave, a flash of movement caught her eye.

There he was, standing just a few feet away, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that made her pulse quicken. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, suspended in a charged silence.

Then, before Y/N could react, he took a step forward, a curious expression on his face.

"Hi," he said, his voice low and velvety smooth. "I'm Luke."

…

Y/N took a deep, steadying breath as she pushed open the glass doors of the towering office building, the sleek marble floors and modern decor greeting her with an air of cool professionalism. Squaring her shoulders, she strode purposefully towards the elevator bank, her heels clicking against the polished tiles.

As she waited for the elevator, Y/N could feel the familiar fluttering of nerves in the pit of her stomach. This wasn't going to be an easy conversation, she knew that much.

Her reps had been hounding her for months, pressuring her to deliver a new collection. It was the same old song and dance - her art was in high demand, and her company was eager to capitalize on her success.

The elevator dinged, and Y/N stepped inside, her fingers drumming anxiously against the railing as it carried her up to the 15th floor. When the doors finally slid open, she made her way down the plush carpeted hallway, the sound of her heels muffled.

Approaching the sleek wooden doors of her company's offices, she paused for a moment, taking another deep breath to steel her nerves.

"You can do this," she murmured to herself, before pushing open the doors and stepping into the reception area.

The secretary, a prim-looking woman with a severe bun, looked up from her computer screen, her eyebrows arching slightly at Y/N's arrival. "Ms. Y/N," she said, her tone clipped. "They're expecting you."

Y/N nodded, forcing a polite smile as she moved to take a seat on one of the plush leather couches that adorned the waiting area. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, betraying the anxiety that roiled within her. This wasn't the first time she'd been summoned to this office, and she knew it wouldn't be the last.

Time seemed to crawl by as she sat there, the tick of the clock on the wall the only sound that broke the stifling silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the secretary rose from her desk.

"They'll see you now," she announced, gesturing towards the ornate double doors that led to the executive offices.

Y/N rose on shaky legs, taking one last steadying breath before pushing open the doors and stepping inside. The plush, wood-paneled office was exactly as she remembered - imposing and intimidating, a physical manifestation of the power wielded by the company that controlled her artistic future.

Seated behind the massive mahogany desk were three stern-faced individuals, their piercing gazes fixed squarely on her. Y/N felt her heart hammering in her chest as she approached, each step feeling heavier than the last.

"Thank you for coming, Y/N," the man in the center spoke, his voice level but tinged with a subtle edge of impatience. "We have some...concerns we'd like to discuss with you."

Y/N nodded mutely, her hands clenching and unclenching at her sides as she braced herself for the impending confrontation. The three figures seated before her - the company's CEO, CFO, and head of marketing - regarded her with a disconcerting blend of expectation and exasperation.

"As you know, Y/N," the CEO began, steepling his fingers atop the gleaming desktop, "your work has been in incredibly high demand these past few years. Your paintings have become the talk of the art world, and our company has greatly benefited from your success."

Y/N felt a prickle of unease creep up her spine. She knew where this was heading, and it made her stomach churn with dread.

"However," the man continued, his brow furrowing slightly, "we've noticed a...concerning trend as of late. It's been months since your last major release, and our clients are growing restless." He paused, his steely gaze boring into her. "To be blunt, they're demanding new work. And that's where our concern lies."

Y/N opened her mouth, scrambling for a response, but the CFO cut her off with a raise of his hand.

"We've been patient, Y/N, but our patience is wearing thin. You're our biggest asset, our crown jewel. And frankly, we can't afford to have you sitting idle." He leaned forward, his expression grim. "There's been...talk of other artists who may be able to provide the output we need. Artists who are hungrier, more prolific than you."

Y/N's heart sank like a stone. She knew exactly who they were referring to - Jacob, a rising star in the art world whose bold, innovative style had been the talk of the industry for months. He'd been aggressively courting her company, and by the sounds of it, they were seriously considering his overtures.

"I...I understand your concern," Y/N managed, hating the way her voice wavered. "But I can assure you, I'm working on a new collection as we speak. In fact, I have one more painting to finish, and then I'll have the entire series ready for you."

The three executives exchanged a loaded glance, their expressions unreadable. Finally, the CEO leaned back in his chair, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well, that's...excellent news, Y/N. We're pleased to hear it." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "Of course, we'll need to see the completed works as soon as possible. You understand the urgency of the situation, I'm sure."

Y/N nodded mutely, her mouth suddenly dry. "Absolutely. I'll have everything ready by my deadline."

"Wonderful." The CEO rose from his seat, his two colleagues following suit. "We look forward to seeing what you've created. Don't disappoint us, Y/N."

As they filed out of the office, Y/N felt a heavy weight settle in the pit of her stomach. She'd lied through her teeth, and they all knew it. But what choice did she have? Her career, her very livelihood, hung in the balance. She had to deliver, no matter the cost.

…

Luke’s pov

Luke pushed open the front door of the apartment he shared with his older brother Jack, the familiar sounds of chatter and laughter immediately greeting him. However, as he stepped inside, the first thing that caught his eye was an unfamiliar figure curled up on their couch beside Jack.

She was a striking woman, with fiery red hair that spilled over her shoulders in lush waves. Her features were bold and angular, with a nose that seemed slightly disproportionate to the rest of her face. Luke couldn't help but stare for a moment, brow furrowed in confusion.

"Hey?" he said quietly, the lilt in his voice making it sound more like a question than a greeting.

Jack perked up at the sound, a mischievous smile spreading across his lips as he lightly pushed the woman off his shoulder. Turning around, he draped his chest over the back of the couch, his eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Lukey! There you are," he exclaimed. "How was the class?"

Luke glanced down at his hands, suddenly feeling uncharacteristically unsure of himself. "Uh, it was fine, I guess," he mumbled. "I, uh, actually met a girl there."

Jack's grin widened, his eyebrows waggling suggestively. "A girl, huh? Do tell!"

"It wasn't that serious," Luke hurried to clarify, a faint blush creeping up his neck. "I just...I caught her staring at me a couple times, that's all."

"Ooh, a secret admirer!" Jack crowed, practically bouncing in his seat. "Way to go, bro! So, what's she like? Is she cute?"

Luke shrugged, fighting the urge to fidget under his brother's intense scrutiny. "I don't know, I didn't really get a chance to talk to her much. She seemed nice, I guess."

Jack let out a dramatic sigh, shaking his head in exasperation. "Typical Luke, always so reserved. Come on, man, give me the juicy details! What did she look like? Was there any, you know, chemistry?" He waggled his eyebrows again, and the woman beside him giggled coyly.

Luke felt his cheeks burning, suddenly wishing he could just disappear. "I don't know, Jack," he grumbled. "She left before I had a chance to ask much, it was just a painting class, that's all. Nothing special."

"Aw, don't be like that." Jack reached out and gave Luke's arm a playful shove. "You gotta put yourself out there more, bro. How else are you gonna meet someone?"

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, the woman beside Jack piped up, her voice sugary sweet. "Maybe I could help you with that, handsome."

Luke blinked, his gaze snapping to her as he realized she was addressing him. "Uh, I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name," he mumbled, mentally kicking himself for his lack of social grace.

The woman giggled again, batting her eyelashes coyly. "I'm Amber. It's so nice to meet you, Luke."

Both Luke and Jack shared an incredulous look, their brows furrowing in matching expressions of confusion.

Luke stood still, his shoulders tensing as he registered Amber's words. "What do you mean by that?" he cringed, his tone laced with suspicion.

Amber giggled again, seemingly oblivious to the brothers' discomfort. "Well, I just thought maybe I could help you find a special someone," she purred, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "After all, a handsome guy like you shouldn't be single, right?"

Luke's features soured into a sour expression as he awaited her answer. "I, uh, I'm not really looking for -"

"Whoa, whoa, hold up," Jack cut in, holding up a hand. "Are you trying to set my brother up or something?"

Amber turned her gaze to Jack, seemingly delighted by the interruption. "Well, I just thought it would be fun! You know, double dates and all that."

Luke felt his stomach twist with discomfort. This was the last thing he needed - some random woman trying to play matchmaker. He opened his mouth, fully prepared to shut down the idea, when Jack beat him to the punch.

"Sorry, sweetheart, but that's not really our thing," Jack said, his usual easygoing demeanor laced with a subtle edge. "Luke's not interested in that kind of setup. He likes to do his own thing, you know?"

Amber's face fell, a brief flash of disappointment crossing her features before she quickly schooled them into an overly bright smile. "Oh, I see. Well, that's a shame." She reached out, placing a hand on Jack's arm. "I'm sure we could still have fun, though, right?"

Luke watched the exchange with a mixture of relief and mild disgust. He'd never been one for the whole dating scene, and the thought of being set up by some random woman he'd just met made his skin crawl.

As Jack and Amber continued to flirt, Luke took the opportunity to slip away, muttering a hasty excuse about needing to unwind from the painting class.

Once he was safely ensconced in his room, Luke let out a long, weary sigh. Sometimes he envied Jack's ability to charm just about anyone - it would certainly make his own romantic life a lot easier. But for Luke, the whole dating game just felt like more trouble than it was worth.

With a shake of his head, he flopped down on his bed, fully intending to avoid the living room for the rest of the evening. The last thing he needed was to get roped into some bizarre double date scheme. No, he was perfectly content to just enjoy the rest of his day off in peace and quiet.

…

Y/N pushed open the door to her loft apartment, panting heavily as she battled to keep her armful of supplies from spilling. The large canvases she was carrying ruffled against the fabric of her coat, the bottles of paint and brushes clanking together with every step.

Frustration etched across her features, Y/N kicked the door open wider, accidentally dropping the heavy canvases to the floor with a dull thud. "Shit!" she cursed, quickly bending down to scoop them up and push them further into the apartment, letting the door slam shut behind her.

Her steps were heavy as she plodded over to the kitchen island, unceremoniously depositing the bags of art supplies. With a weary sigh, Y/N shrugged out of her coat, hanging it by the front door before flipping on the light switch, casting the spacious loft in a warm glow.

As she crossed the room, her gaze was immediately drawn to the massive painting that dominated one wall. With a flick of a switch, the mechanical blinds whirred to life, pulling back to reveal the stunning, yet hauntingly emotional work.

Shades of deep blue and mossy green swirled and blended together, creating an almost hypnotic backdrop for the central figure - a woman, her body draped in chains that seemed to constrict and bind her. The pain and anguish etched into her features was unmistakable, tugging at Y/N's heart.

Y/N stared at the painting, her brow furrowed in deep contemplation. She had been working on this piece for weeks, pouring her heart and soul into every brushstroke, every carefully rendered detail. And yet, something was still... missing.

Crossing the room, she reached out to trace the outline of the woman's face, her fingertips skimming the textured surface of the canvas. She knew this painting was important, a powerful statement on the weight of societal expectations and the struggle for personal freedom. But the emotions it evoked in her were complex, a tangled web of frustration, sorrow, and a deep, primal need to break free.

Y/N's gaze drifted to the discarded art supplies on the island, her mind racing as she considered her next move. As Y/N set to work, carefully selecting her paints and brushes, her thoughts inevitably drifted back to the enigmatic man she had encountered in her art class - Luke.

Try as she might to focus solely on the task at hand, the memory of his striking features and captivating gaze kept creeping into the forefront of her mind. She shook her head, chiding herself for the distraction.

"Get it together," she murmured under her breath, dipping her brush into the rich ultramarine paint. "You have a deadline to meet, remember?"

And yet, despite her best efforts, her mind kept circling back to that fateful moment when Luke had approached her, introducing himself with a warm smile. Y/N felt her palms grow clammy at the mere recollection, her legs beginning to bounce up and down in a nervous fidget.

She had been so caught up in her own work, so consumed by the need to finish her painting, that when he'd come over to speak to her, she had panicked. The words had stuck in her throat, her tongue feeling thick and clumsy, and she'd barely managed a coherent response before practically fleeing the scene.

Y/N let out a frustrated sigh, trying to push the memory aside as she focused on blending the paint on her palette. "It was just a stupid class," she chided herself. "You're a professional, for heaven's sake. You can't afford to get distracted by some...some pretty face."

And yet, even as she tried to convince herself of that, a part of her couldn't help but wonder about Luke. Who was he, really? What was it about him that had so thoroughly captivated her, even in the brief moments they'd interacted?

Shaking her head, Y/N turned her attention back to the canvas, her brush gliding across the surface with renewed determination. She didn't have time to dwell on these silly daydreams and flights of fancy. She had a job to do, a deadline to meet, and a company that was counting on her.

Still, as she worked, a small part of her couldn't help but wonder if she might cross paths with Luke again. And whether, this time, she'd have the courage to truly get to know him.

…

Tag List <3

@dasiysthings, @mileyraes

[cher-rei]

afterglow- pt 1 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x femreader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter (you) is privileged with working alongside the liverpool marketing and public relations team while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

[wc: 2.6k] [part 2] [part 3 ] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 7] [part 8] [part 9] [part 10] [part 11] [part 12]

genre(s): friends?? to lovers, work romance, fluff

notes: I've had this idea on my mind for months but I had no idea how to execute it at all. also instead of using the y/n insert, I gave the character a name even though it is read from your pov. It just made it easier to write lmao

"ms carter?"

your heart dropped at the sound of your name being called by an unfamiliar voice, which was something you were going to have to get used to. nonetheless, you turned around to see an older man approaching you with a warm smile and something in his hand.

when he got close enough he put out his hand and you politely shook it as a greeting, still not sure who you were talking to. before you could speak up however, you were interrupted by something being put in your hand.

"this is your staff id," the older man said and you took a closer look at the lanyard in your hand. the picture you had taken less than a few weeks ago was set neatly inside with your name, and position.

carter, jaime

[public relations manager- social media and marketing department]

public relations manager. those three words were enough to make you feel light headed.

you liked to think that your employment on liverpool fc's marketing team was nothing but pure luck. from the moment you handed in your resume for your university final year internship out of pure whim, then to you getting accepted for whatever reason until you got the email no less than a month after graduation asking you to come in for an interview.

all that lead up to the moment you were currently in. standing in the middle of the empty anfield stadium that you had visited for nearly every home game since you were a child. it was nothing but pure luck.

you were broken out of your daze by the older man chuckling about something, which showed that you hadn't heard a single word he said during the past five minutes. you mustered up a smile regardless to play it off and proceeded to follow him for what you thought was a building tour.

"I just realised that I never properly introduced myself," he laughed dryly and gestured for you to step into the tunnel before him. "I'm billy hogan- chief executive officer and I'm ever so sorry for being in a rush right now but I'd like you to be at the training center within the next 30 minutes."

your eyes widened in shock, your feet absentmindedly picking up its pace while hogan continued to speed through the building tour, leaving no room for questions but you decided to make a mental note to ask someone else when you got the chance.

you were escorted to the black s.u.v along with hogan immediately, running through the hundreds of questions you had at the moment. you know you only had room for one though before he was on another phone call.

"uhm sir-"

"yes ms carter?" the older man addressed without trailing his gaze from his cellphone screen or the pile of documents in front of him.

oh gosh.

you managed to clear your throat. "I'm not too sure why I'll be needed at the training center. shouldn't I be in the office or..."

when he heard you start to trail off, hogan shut the folder in his lap and turned to look at you with an expression you couldn't quite read. there was a moment of awkward silence that passed between the two of you in the backseat of the s.u.v, the driver not paying any mind to the conversation.

"our last marketing manager had to be fired because we found out that he was leaking information out to reporters and news broadcasters along with four other employees."

oh shit.

you shuffled in your seat as you tried to think of a response to the news but whenever you parted your lips to say something hogan would raise his finger as a sign that he wasn't done talking. so you swallowed the bitter taste in your mouth along with any comments and listened intently.

did it sound like he was targeting you and bordelined threatening you? yes, yes it did. but you were sure he meant well and was only trying to bring his point across.

"we're low on staff and that's why you were handed two very crucial roles and are expected to make up for the losses. you'll be working alongside the team as you read in the contract," he began once again with a knowing look which made your stomach drop.

because you didn't read the contract. not fully at least. your older sister was the one who urged you to sign it the second it was sent to your house. hell, it could've stated that you were required to donate an organ and you wouldn't have known all because your were too excited and didn't spare anything a second glance.

"but why didn't you just promote people that were already in the department instead of giving me the position straight away?"

hogan let out a dry chuckle and tended to his phone once again, not looking back at you. "because nobody else wanted the position. it's dangerous up there ms carter. so you may feel important right now, but if you can't handle the workload and expectations it's going to get messy."

well this is news to me.

to sum up hogan's lecture and recital of the contract off by heart, you were in fact set up to be working alongside the team as a higher ranking media representative because there needed to be more field work done. no pun intended.

but the fact that nobody else was up for the position didn't sit right with you.

"just make sure they look good for the camera and keep everyone entertained. you're an influencer yourself, so I'm entrusting you to keep everything in order. you were hired because you are young and are in the game already. so keep yourself level-headed and do your best."

no pressure I guess??

deciding to wear sneakers instead of heels today was by the far the best decision you've made in weeks. the weather in liverpool during september was nothing short of horrid. when you stepped out of the car your face was immediately hit with the harsh and crisp air that reminded you why you spent majority of your time indoors.

"welcome to our axa training center," hogan gestured to the building in front of you, it's ceiling to floor windows having you gawking in awe. "this is where you'll be spending a good amount of your time, but it's not as bad as it seems I promise."

what's so bad about watching a bunch of professional football players train half naked?

unlike your last building tour, hogan actually took his time showing you around this time. from the lobby, breakroom, staff rooms, gym and finally to the field where the team was out practicing-- or at least that's what you thought was happening judging by all the screaming.

the second you stepped foot out onto the field, klopp turned to look at you with a welcoming smile.

did he just sense my presence??

you felt frozen in your spot, the world had practically stopped spinning the second he called you and hogan over. when you made it over he halted his conversation with the person beside him to shake your hand.

"it's lovely to finally meet you ms carter," the team's manager politely greeted and it took every single nerve in your body for you to not do something stupid.

you bashfully laughed and brushed his comment off, "if anything, the pleasure is mine. I am extremely honoured to be working in this position."

after a few moments of getting to know each other and klopp giving you a bit of an idea of what he expected media-wise, you realised that you had work cut out for you, judging by klopp saying, "think of this as your second family. the team needs something different, and you ms carter, are exactly the home improvement that we need."

you felt like the weight of the world had just been put on your shoulders again, and his tone of utter sincerity wasn't making it any less pressurising. of course you wanted to do well and give your all into this role but it was going to take a bit of time getting used to.

I should have read that damn contract.

"would you like to meet the team?" klopp asked with a smile and lightly patted your shoulder.

the gesture alone was enough to render you speechless, and you weren't quite sure if you heard him correctly. "would I like to do what?"

"boys!"

your eyes widened in shock as he called the team over. you didn't know what to do or say, your fight or flight mode had nearly been activated and you swore you were about to sprint out of the training center, all the way back home.

you anxiously fiddled with your fingers, not knowing what to do with your hands as you watched the group of soccer players head your way with little to no care to which klopp gave you a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "don't worry, they won't bite."

you mustered up an awkward laugh, muttering under your breath as you mentally prepared yourself for the moment. you obviously hadn't met any of them before, the closest you had gotten was going to the stadium to watch their matches.

the closest you had gotten to any interaction with any professional soccer player in general however, would be at the beginning of the year when jude bellingham followed you back on Instagram. which was still the best day of your life up to date.

you were awestruck, words unable to form as they all huddled up in front of you. you could see the sweat beading on their foreheads which caused a shiver to travel down your spine.

"boys this is ms jaime carter." klopp gestured to you and you managed a small wave, trying to ignore the sound of your heart beating in your ears. "she'll be working with us from now on, as manager of the pr manager for both the marketing and social media departments."

you were greeted with a choir of 'hello's' and listened to klopp give everyone the run-down and a little enlightenment into the situation regarding the last bundle of staff that had to be cut off so abruptly.

"pfft, snitches."

you head turned to look in the direction of the comment, that was immediately reprimanded.

"curtis," klopp started and the soccer player pursed his lips apologetically.

"sorry boss."

"aren't you a little too young to be the manager of two departments?"

your eyebrows raised at the question from harvey. klopp and hogan had to attend to a last minute call from the clubs directors so you were left with the team to "get to know each other", but most of them got back to training which left you with harvey, curtis and trent.

you shifted your weight to your right leg, your head tilting to the side challengingly as you eyed the boy. "well you're younger than i am and playing professional football. what does me being a pr manager make any difference?"

trent and curtis couldn't help but snicker at your counter, jokingly mocking their younger teammate until he got visibly irritated.

"you can't deny us the right to laugh at you," trent said jokingly and kicked the ball to harvey, who passed it to cutis again.

their banter went on for a few minutes as you watched the ball pass between the three of them until harvey spoke up again.

"you're straight out of university though so--"

his sentence was cut off by someone yelling, "ball!", to which you all instinctively looked up only to realise a little to late that it was headed in your direction.

shit.

you backed away just in time to get the ball before it hit the ground. the second it came into contact with your foot, you sent it back virgil's way to which he gave you a smile.

a familiar feeling stired up in your stomach after, but you pushed it aside and for back to your train of thought. "and you're straight out of high-school. so i rest my case."

a moment of silence took over, trent and curtis both shifting their gazes from you and all the way over to virgil who was over at the goal post.

harvey was taking the moment to recollect your high school comment. it was because he was short wasn't it? that's all people had to throw at him these days.

it was trent's turn to speak up, his eyebrows raised while curtis muttered to himself about the distance or something like that. "have you played before?"

before you could answer, your name was being called by hogan since it was time to get back to the office building. you huffed out a breath and sent the three boys a smile.

"looks like today's 'q and a' was cut short." you took a few steps back, stuffing your hands into the pockets of your puffer jacket. "you might as well stock them up for next time. I'll be more than happy to feed your curious minds."

[blueicequeen19]

Charter Ch. 8

Warnings: drama, angst, mentions of Luke’s abuse, oral, creampies, use of cuffs, breeding kink 😈

By the time she got to my house, I was antsy. My anxiety had spiked, there was that pain in my chest that nearly choked me. I couldn’t believe how nervous I was. How restless. I’d cleaned and organized things that didn’t need it, picked up Summer’s room, and started dinner. I’d wanted to wait until she got here so we could cook together but I was too anxious to wait. By the time her and Bo made it through the door, my shrimp and grits were nearly done.

“Smells amazing.” Y/N smiled at me. I couldn’t resist pulling her into my arms to kiss her. There was no fighting this. Not anymore.

“Took you long enough.” I murmured against her lips as Bo pawed at me for attention. She laughed, taking a step back to allow me to rub on her dog.

“I had to shower and feed him and walk him. I sometimes think having a dog is about like having a child.” Y/N teases as I straighten back up and Bo finds a spot on the couch.

“At least Bo doesn’t make you paint his nails.” I counter, making her laugh again as we move to the kitchen. I turn off the burner and make our plates. Y/N sits down with two beers and my dick twitches in my sweats as she eyes me hungrily. Her eyes light up as I approach the table but she looks away when I sit the plates down and take my seat.

“Problem?”

“Are you ever not hard?” Y/N rolls her eyes at me with a smirk and I chuckle. Part of me forgot I’d changed into sweatpants. Another part was glad I did if she kept looking at me like that.

“Around you, no.” Y/N fights a smile before we dig into our food. The silence is comforting. Like we’re both just happy to be in the same room as each other. These past three weeks had been hard. Harder than I’d ever imagined they would be. The distance was bearable when she still worked there but when she hung up her key, I felt something inside me break. I couldn’t just wait for her to come around again. Not this time.

“I took your advice. And Shoupes.” I cleared my throat and her bright eyes found mine, her brows raised.

“I filed a protective order against Chelsea. If she gets within five feet of her she’ll go to jail. I’m sure by now she’s been served.” I said, feeling the weight lift off my chest. She smiled at me, pride in her eyes as she nodded her head and kept eating. I still wanted to handle things my way but I’d start with the law.

“How’s Summer? Does she ever ask about her egg donor?” Y/N asked, leaning back in her chair once she finished and crossing her arms.

“Yes and no. I’ve told her as much as I think she can understand at five. She knows Chelsea is not safe and not okay to be around. She knows to get help if she’s approached.” Y/N nods.

“And what are we doing?”

“I figure we can give the dating thing a try.”

“Do you think the Charter will survive if you stop flirting with every female that walks in?” We both laugh.

“I hope so.” She smiles, content with my answers as we finish our beers. I lead her outside so Bo can do his business and I light a joint as we approach the waters edge. I take a few long hits and pass it to her. I feel the calm wash over me and I watch as the tension leaves her body after taking a few hits and handing it back.

“It’s peaceful out here.” Y/N murmurs, wrapping her arms around herself as the chill from the water hits us. I pull her against me, tucking her under my arm after I put the joint out.

“I love it out here.” I press my lips to her forehead and her arms wrap around my waist.

“What will I be to Summer?” She asks, a tremor in her voice like this was a hard question for her.

“Another positive role model in her life.” I respond, running my hand up and down her back.

“I don’t know if I’d call myself a role model. I didn’t have the best upbringing either. At least Summer has you.” She pulls back to look at me and I’m struck with the realization that I don’t know shit about her family except that her and her mother fight a lot.

“My father was an abusive piece of shit and my mom bailed. I think if I can give Summer more than I had then I’ll be happy.”

“My mom is a Kook and my dad is a Pogue. They’d met at a party and conceived me. My mom went down one path and my father went down another. I was the pawn they used to hurt each other. All they did was talk shit about each other and try to buy my love. By the time I was old enough to know better, I realized how awful they both were and now I don’t have much of a relationship with either. My mother doesn’t miss an opportunity to let me know she’s disappointed in me for not doing more with my life.” She releases a shuddering breath and I wrap my arms tighter, kissing her shoulder.

“I think we decide who we want to be when we’re older. I think you made the right choice. You didn’t let their actions define you.” I murmur, pulling back to rest my forehead against hers. She nods, sniffling.

“Neither did you.” She lifts up to kiss me and I groan, instantly deepening the kiss by slipping my tongue into her mouth to taste more. When she pulls back breathless and shivering, I crack a grin.

“That free therapy session will cost you a blowjob.” She swats my hands away with a laugh, turning back towards the house with an added sway to her hips.

“I don’t fuck on the first date, Maybank.” She taunts, shaking her ass at me and squealing with delight when I chase after her. I haul her up my body and press her back to the wall of the enclosed porch, kissing along her neck and throat.

“You do with me.” I growl, making her groan as I grind my cock against her clothed pussy. We make out just like we did behind the bar. Our tongues tasting one another and moaning into each others mouth. When she sucks my tongue into her mouth, I nearly blow my load right then.

“You have too many fucking clothes on.” I lower her to her feet to yank her shorts and panties down her legs then I kneel, throwing her leg over my shoulder before attaching my mouth to her clit.

“Oh fuck.” She moans, both hands in my hair as I stare up at her glorious tits and pierced nipples after she quickly removed her shirt and bra. She’s so wet that even as I slurp up her juices, more is still running down my chin. Her clit throbs against my tongue and I know she’s close already. She’s always fucking ready for me.

“JJ, please.” She cries, urging me to give her more as she grinds against my face. I take her clit between my teeth, making her eyes fly open on a gasp right before shoving two fingers inside her. I resume sucking her clit and her cries pierce my ears as she cums hard.

I don’t wait before jumping to my feet, wrapping my arms around her as she sways to kiss her again. Y/N tears at my own clothes until she frees my cock and pumps me in her hand.

“God, I missed this.” She pants, moving to drop to her knees but I stop her, shoving her over the back of the couch. I was already leaking precum all over her hand. If she got me in that sinful mouth this would be over before we’d even started.

“Nope. I need to be inside that pussy.” I thrust my dick through her slit, coating my cock in her slick arousal before nudging her soaked entrance. She sucks in a breath.

“Remember when I said if you’re good I’ll fuck you bare?” I spread her cheeks, watching my dick tease her slit.

“Yes.” She breathes, arching her ass out for me. I slap it, digging my fingers in to the flesh as I tease us both.

“I’m fucking you bare tonight and every night after this. I want you dripping with me.” The thought makes me absolutely feral, pumping her full until she makes me a daddy again. Making sure every fuckhead in this town knew she was mine.

“JJ.” The sound of her begging makes me shudder as I finally work the thick head inside her. My eyes nearly roll back into my skull as I push inside until I’m balls deep and she’s trembling. Heat washes over my body and sparks race up my spine. This was better than I could’ve ever imagined.

I tighten my hands on her hips before sliding half way out and slamming back in. She yelps, her feet barely reaching the floor as I shove her down further over the couch. I don’t waste anytime before I start fucking her with vigor, hard and fast. Her moans and pleas fill the air, her nails biting in to my arms as she reaches back, her pussy choking the life from me as I pummel into her. I’m on the verge of exploding when I suddenly stop and she growls in frustration.

“Don’t growl at me.” I slap her ass before yanking her upright and throwing her over my shoulder as I take us back inside. I wanted to take her on every surface of my house again but I wanted to take my time tonight. So for now, I’m finishing with her in my bed. I kick the bedroom door shut and faintly hear Bo grumble in protest before I toss her down on the bed.

“You better put that thing back inside me.” She snaps, shoving her hair from her face with defiant eyes looking up at me as I round the bed.

“Or what?” I counter, grabbing a pair of leather cuffs from my nightstand and kneeling back on the bed. She tries to flee but I quickly pin her beneath me and cuff her hands behind her back. She knows I love when she fights with me.

“I should punish you for quitting. For leaving me.” I growl in her ear. She wiggles beneath me and I can’t stop myself from kissing and biting down the side of her neck and down her spine, my tongue tracing her tattoo. I force her legs apart and kneel between them, running my hands up and down her body.

“JJ, please. Stop teasing me.” She begs, shaking her ass at me. I bring both hands down on both cheeks, making her hiss.

“But there’s nothing like sinking into pussy that’s been teased.” I slide my hand between her legs to stroke her clit. She tries to bring her legs together as she whimpers so I spank her again.

“Don’t make me tie your fucking legs open.” I shove her legs beneath her so she’s on her knees and spread wide for me. I move her ass into the air before dropping down onto my back between her legs to feast on her pussy.

“Jesus, JJ!” She tries to lift off my face, whining and whimpering when I don’t let her. I suck on her clit lazily until she’s trembling and cussing then I shove two fingers in deep and suck her swollen nub into my mouth. I wrap my free hand around my cock, stroking myself hard as she screams her release but I don’t stop.

“I can’t— please— JJ.” I thrust my tongue inside as she begs, making her squirm and try to move away. I slide my wet fingers up and probe her tight, puckered hole.

“JJ— wait— I.” I suck her clit into my mouth again and she moans, her legs shaking so hard she doesn’t even notice when I slide a finger inside her ass and slowly pump it. Her body grows taunt and a sob escapes her as reaches her peak again, wetness seeping out of her until she’s begging me to stop. I don’t give her a chance to come down before I move onto my knees and raise her ass in the air.

“Tell me you want me. That you want this.” I demand, pawing her ass with both hands. I loved having her like this. At my mercy. She couldn’t mouth off if she was too fucked to speak.

“I want this, J. You know I do.” She pants, unable to look back at me with her arms bound behind her back. I work my dick inside her and we both moan loud and long. I’ve been on the verge of cumming for awhile now so I don’t waste anymore time. She’s face down, her body surging forward with every hard thrust and her cries are muffled by the comforter. Sweat drips from my brow as I watch my cock disappear inside her wet heat, over and over again. Every time it comes back covered in her cream, I thrust harder. I’m right there but I’m not ready yet. I yank her up by the cuffs, molding her back against my front.

“One more. You can do it.” I growl, licking my fingers and bringing them to her swollen clit.

“I— can’t—!” She cries, her face twisting in anguish even as her body barrels towards release. Her climax triggers my own, her pussy sucking every drop of cum from me until we both finally collapse.

“What’s your favorite color?” She asks sleepily. We’d slept for a few hours only to wake up and go at it again. Now we’re both basking in afterglow as we start to fall back asleep.

“Green.” I murmur, stroking her hair while she rests her head on my shoulder, her naked body half on mine.

“Where’s your dad?” She asks, her voice growing more and more faint as sleep takes her.

“I don’t know.”

“Your mom?”

“Don’t know.” She hums in response, nuzzling in closer and holding me tighter. My throat tightens, making me wonder how I ever slept without her.

I see my phone light up from the nightstand again and I lazily reach for it, checking long enough to make sure it’s not any of the Pogues and sitting it back down. I don’t recognize the number so I ignore it.

Now that I’ve let her in completely a new type of possessiveness takes over. I thought it was bad when we weren’t exclusive and I saw her ex talking to her or putting his hands on her but now.. I might actually shoot someone.

I don’t have to worry about Summer because she has a heart of gold and loves everyone. She’s asked for Y/N and Bo everyday since the beach. Summer often makes me realize that my heart is on the outside of my body and that everything good about me.. is her.

It’s hard not to go to the dark place that wonders why my parents couldn’t get it together. Why they didn’t give a fuck enough to try. To just even fucking try. My dad only wanted anything to do with me when it benefited him. When he could use me to steal something or get out of a bind. But if I disagreed then I met his fists. Eventually he stopped providing and I had to steal to survive. It was a never ending cycle and everyone assumed I was just like him and no wonder my mother left.

Y/N snuggles closer, smelling every bit like me, sex, and her sweet shampoo. The thought of taking her again when she’s probably still dripping my cum is tempting.. but I resist. Tomorrow is Sunday so the Charter is closed and I plan to spend the day with my girls. And Bo. Like I could ever forget about the motherfucker.

I’m almost back to sleep when a sudden pounding on my front door has us both jerking upright. Like a goddamn swat team. I jump out of bed, yank on a pair of shorts and grab my gun.

“Who would be here this late?” Y/N hisses, yanking my shirt down over her head and pulling on my sweats.

“I don’t know. Stay here.” I demand, almost missing the glare she shoots my way. I make my way down the hallway and Y/N trails close behind me. I nearly stop dead in my tracks when I see the familiar flash of lights and someone standing on my door step. Something is wrong. My mind immediately starts to panic. Summer isn’t here.

My throat starts to close as I sit the gun down and open the door to reveal Sheriff Shoupe. I can’t think. I can’t breathe. Cops don’t show up at your doorstep in the middle of the night unless something is wrong and someone is dead. I reach for my phone but it’s not in my pocket. Y/N takes my hand but I barely feel it as my mouth becomes dry and I can’t form words.

“I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news and show up here in the middle of the night.” Shoupe starts, looking more stressed than usual.

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Y/N asks, her hand tightening in mine like she can feel my panic. Where’s Summer? Is she safe?

“There’s been an accident.” My knees buckle and I catch myself on the door frame. All I can think about is Summer. Is she okay? Were they in an accident? Is that way I kept getting calls from an unknown number? Is John B..

“Spit it out, Shoupe.” I snap, barely able to get a full breath in my lungs. I can’t breathe. Is this a panic attack? His face remains firm, not giving me lip over my usual attitude.

“There’s been a fire.”

“Oh god.” Y/N gasps, tightening her grip on me as the room starts to spin. Blood rushes to my ears and I can barely hear anything. Summer. My baby.

“Summer..” I choke on her name, my heart threatening to split open in my chest like a gaping wound.

“There were no bodies inside. No one was hurt that we know of. We tried getting ahold of you the last few hours but we know it’s late. Better to do this in person.” Shoupe clarifies, his eyes giving away his sympathy.

If there’s no fire here and there was no bodies then it had to be..

“I’m sorry, JJ, but the Charter burned down earlier this evening. No one caught it until it was too late.”

And just like that… my knees hit the floor.

[vampiretendencies]

wonder how i got by this week, i only touched you once

authors note; hi! this is my first but also not really my first jj piece. i had an old account here but i deleted it over a year ago, however my love for obx has not changed which explains why i am back lols. i am just testing the waters again here, and letting my thoughts go. i also proofread but sometimes not well enough so you may come across an error or two. gif and divider creds to owner. & feel free to send asks, guidelines for those are coming soon.

warnings; fluff, very clingy!jj, & language

summary; if jj could sow his skin to yours, he would.

pairing; jj maybank x fem!reader

an imprint.

you were sure that was all that was going to be left of you on that twin mattress. not that you were deemed in your last moments of life or anything, but because your boyfriend’s grasp on you in his sleep is not suitable for the weak. it should be described as something resembling a death grip. body tinging with restlessness & the mere moments of having laid here wide away for the past two hours. jj’s body heat radiating onto you at a battle with the sun, that is currently piercing through jj’s bedroom window at the chateau. who knew delirium would gather as quickly as it did, every time you peered toward the bathroom you swore it got three feet farther. hair plastered to the sides of your face, you huffed out of frustration.

jj was damn near on top of you. legs wrapped miraculously around yours, twisting and tangling themselves together. his black boxers riding low, as his waste lovingly crushed yours. the sleep weight of him, was like jj plus two. not to be dramatic but you were gasping for air at one point. his top half, guided by his bottom half. skin sticking to skin, whilst you glistened with sweat, jj somehow still had features like that of angel. well, pardoning the snoring. the abs of his stomach glided against your ribs, hanging onto you as if you’d be gone with one goodbye. the tips of his disheveled blonde locks tickled your temple. mouth slack open, roaring desperately into your ear.

what anyone would be thinking right now is, why not just fucking get up ?

two issues with that. the stickiness of your skin unattaching itself from his was sure to wake him up. anytime you made something even resembling a movement he found a way to force you close into him. and he would never let your hear the end of it, he’d make certain to whine and complain all day about “how you wouldn’t love him back” or some shit like that. he’s definitely more dramatic than you, however this was not cuddling. this was a bear hugging a tree and you were his tree to mangle and rip apart whenever he saw fit.

the other issue being, jj’s room has miscellaneous trash littering the entirety of it. in an instant, if your leg were to loom over the side of jj’s bed the crackling of a beer can or a water bottle was going to crush beneath your foot.

“fuck me,” you silently cursed yourself.

nearly approaching three pm, is what jj’s alarm clock read. you still to this day wonder why such an unproductive, procrastinating type person has the need for one, but that’s just jj.

you’d decided you couldn’t bear taking it anymore, combination of hot breath shelling your ear mixed with the stench of muggy air. you craved a shower, brushing your teeth, to piss for Christ’s sake, and your personalized skin care routine if you could muster up enough time to do so …

wriggling a tad, you pulled back the limp limb that is his arm which has been thrown over your neck for best part of his slumber. jj being a light sleeper, it was stupid of you to even attempt. within milliseconds his arm is thrown over your collar bone, whisping you into him once again. out of instinct a minuscule peck was placed to your ear lobe, his breaths interrupted by your movement. a faint grumble between his lips, signaling for you to keep your ass still.

but, you simply could not. you were going to get up, and you refused to feel horrid for it because jj has had well over his ‘must have’ eight hours of sleep.

“j,” you gulped. contemplating today’s reaction of the constant battle, you blink slowly awaiting his response.

a hm escaped jj’s lips, barely awake but staying awake because his girl never deserved to be ignored.

“let me up,” on the brink of a demand, his eyes opened fully at that, furrowing eyebrows out of frustration.

jj wanted you to save him until the both of you were buried alive. he hungered to be inside of your skin. the true depth of being his girlfriend, you already acknowledged those things. there’s no showering alone, there’s no eating alone, no going to the bathroom alone, you don’t remember the last time you did your own makeup alone. he knew that if he was going to be with someone it could not be just anyone, the dynamic had to work. he was aware of his neediness and constant clinging, you were as well, before you even begun dating you had the willingness to admit you always had a soft spot for jj. you weren’t sure if it was the empath in you and the sheerness of being a human being. he’d been abandoned and abused since he was young, you wouldn’t be the one to return the favor.

the both of you just work.

it makes sense that the passion and the ethereal ache for want has never left, loves you just the same as the day he met you in eighth grade.

bringing him to his now decision as to wether or not he wanted to actually let you up or to fuck with you.

“stay with me.”

he uttered; partially truthful, partially not. he despised the feeling of the empty bed settling in if you were to get up, though he’d known you were due for a piss right about now.

“i have to get up, m’all sweaty and you aren’t helping.”

your explanation was understandable, but he still wasn’t having it. an eternity encompassed in your affections was a dream, and living in that dream he would presume possible for as long as you’d allow him.

“suffer a few more minutes.”

“j, i’m serious.”

he edged a tight lipped smile, noticing the eye roll and glistening beauty of your forehead. eyes inspecting you as though it was the first time. your sports bra adorned just how he’d liked, chest rising and falling faster then usual, appearing as if you’d ran a mile and then some. something so sweet about the scent of your skin, he’d breathe in continuously saturating his senses in the symphony that is you.

“what’s a man gotta do for few more minutes hm?”

he’s atop you now, hands at either side of your head. towering over to make eye contact— a sign that you yearned for him as he did you.

staring up at him, a yes is on the tip of your tongue but you’ve sacrificed enough of your day dedicated to cuddling jj. shuffling his weight onto one hand his thumb dusted past your chin and to your cheek bone, trying to lull you back in all at once. tilting your head in a swift movement, he lowers himself itching to press your unearthly soft lips with his. you did not oblige, smashing a hand to his lips.

“you’re not getting a kiss.”

“then you aren’t getting up,” he chimed. “as easy as that, baby.”

“jj! i am hot, and i smell like ass, if you don’t let me up don’t expect a kiss at all.”

you bargained, unable to win this fight you’d be giving in within minutes.

“well, i for one, like hot ass .. your hot ass in particular.”

your throat ran dry, willing to just do it out of desperation for a shower. the feathered blonde of his hair wavered as his head turned about, with the click of his tongue murmuring a muffled tick tock against the back of your hand.

“one fucking kiss jj.”

you’d agreed, hand faintly falling backward as you embraced him. your lips pucker for a slight peck but jj had far more in mind. the peck tainted his lips, the peck was for hurries only. jj ruled this as a no hurry situation though to you it was past a hurry. when you pull away from the peck, jj writhes his hand around your neck gently. wrestling his pair of lips with yours, teeth pulling at your lip for entrance, and you didn’t find yourself pulling away. two tongues swiveling and swirling just the way jj liked. God, he just could not get enough of the way your tongue molded with his. besotted that they fit together just right.

you break the trance, not allowing jj to reel you back in again.

“gotta brush my teeth now, j.”

your voice somewhat pleaded, a small boyish pout forming. groaning and all the extras accompanying jj maybank.

“okay okay, i’ll give you a few.”

rolling off of you, he gave way for you to do all that you pleased. you grinned his way as he sent a toothy one back. you felt free, as you did all the times before you had to force jj off of you. you could move and you did so at a rapid pace, before the whining begun. kicking beer cans out of the way you seemed to take your first step to the bathroom but that is until the palm of jj’s hand collides with the bottom of your ass.

“hurry up, you sexy motherfucker!”

your cheeks tainted red at his outburst, all of the cut could’ve heard it. but you laugh with ease, at your attention seeking boyfriend.

“won’t be long okay?”

you offer him a hug, a show of infatuation; before you were officially off to the bathroom, with intentions of closing the door. he encapsulates you, swallowing you whole with his arms. he peppered multiple kisses to your forehead.

“don’t shower without me, pretty girl.”

[roseodelle]

Arcane - Eris Vanserra x Unnamed OC

Eris’s best kept secret is infiltrated.

No use of y/n

WC: 1039

Warnings: Angst, Violence

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

On the border between the Autumn, Winter, and Summer Courts lies Eris’s deepest secret. Kept for nearly two hundred years by powerful magic and glamour, cunning lies, careful footwork, a mask of malice, and the occasional murder, Eris was able to keep his sanctuary and mate safe from the rest of the world. 

It was not just his power that kept her hidden from Prythian for so many years. No, her mixed parentage of high fae and strong witch blood had a heavy hand in shrouding not only their home but also their mating bond. One hundred and ninety-four years, and not even a fox had crept within a mile of their sanctuary. So when Eris was called before Beron at such a late hour, he had been expecting orders to assassinate another lord or courtier.

The presence of two of his brothers was unexpected, immediately setting him on edge. At one point in time, they’d been such good boys. Bright white smiles and crooked teeth, flushed cheeks, and curly red hair as they’d run to him. Begging for another story or to play with wooden swords. But those days were long gone, and Eris held scorching embers close to the tips of his fingers, ready to go the second this impromptu meeting would turn south, which he knew it would with the crooked smirks on their pale faces. Beron’s crown lay heavy on his wrinkling brow, and brown hair not shared with his sons lay short in a perfect wave. The permanent scowl on his face turns into a snake-like grin as Eris stands at attention before the golden throne. 

Eris bows deeply, hand on sword, as he meets his father's eye. His peripheral watches his brothers, and as they navigate to stand on either side of him, he rises and tenses even more in preparation for what’s to come. 

“Over the past three weeks, I’ve sent sentries in search of new outlooks between our courts. Both Summer and Winter have pledged their allegiance to the Night Court. Spring has become a cesspool, and the vermin have been sneaking into our forests.” The High Lord rises from the throne, clasping his hands behind his back as he takes four steps down. Four more steps, and he stands in front of his general, the wicked grin on his face remaining. Faint trickles of fear begin to travel down Eris’s spine.

“Reports from the southernmost border have been as expected. The weak spots in my wards were restored, and a permanent watch was erected. The majority of the western border was as expected as well. As was the north.” He takes three more steps, encroaching on Eris’s space until he’s only a breath away. His brothers shadow his father's steps, inching closer to pin him in place.

“But when the sentries came to the northwest?” Beron questions, and Eris’s blood cools to ice in his chest, his heart skipping a beat before it plumets to his stomach. He says nothing, ensuring his mask of indifference stays steady on his face. He tightens his grip on the sword at his hip.

“They came across a ward. A strong one, very strong.” Beron tilts his head to the side, studying Eris with intensity before he continues. “A ward not made by me. I was called to investigate, and do you know what I found?” The cruel grin turns into a glee-filled smile as he reaches out one hand, resting it just an inch away from Eris’s face, as if he were prepared to grace his eldest son with a loving touch. 

“I found your magic, my son. Mixed with the scent of a lesser fae.” Silence falls. It was all he needed to say. Eris knew—he knew—that if Beron had managed to discover the glamour, his next step would have been to break it. To discover what his son had hidden from him in his own court. To discover who had assisted in erecting such magic. The grip on his sword was impossibly tight as he dropped part of his glamour and pulled. The smoky scent of the mating bond fills the room because, after two hundred years, the secret is out. Two hundred years, and he’d never taken the risk of invoking the bond within a hundred miles of this house, of his father. But Beron knew, and if Beron knew—

She doesn’t respond to his call. He can’t feel her.

He acts first, taking quick steps back away from his father and freeing his sword in less than a second. He holds it at the ready, swallowing deeply as he works past his fear to ask.

“Does she live?” Beron laughs, clapping his hands together as if Eris’s fear was the funniest thing he’d ever seen.

“Does she?” His father directs his attention toward his second-born son. The glint in his eye is nothing short of evil, and his stance is all too casual as he examines his nails. He simply shrugs his shoulders in response, and with that, Eris leaps to action. With just a few quick steps, he raises his sword and brings it down on his brother's neck. 

Two seconds pass as his head hits the ground. His father stands still, shocked into silence, while his remaining brother begins to seethe.

“What have you done?” His brother asks, drawing his own sword as he begins to stalk toward Eris.

“What have you done?” Eris asks in reply, igniting his sword. Beron still stands silent, his eyes on his fallen son, as the two still standing circle each other with blazing swords. His brother strikes first but he is weak. Eris avoids the strike, taking his own with a deep cut to the arm. As his brother cries from the blow, he makes another, slicing across his chest. He hits the ground, throwing a hand up as he releases a gust of burning fire, but Eris is older. Stronger. Trained better. Angrier. And within the course of a minute, two severed heads graced the floor of the Forest House.

Finally, Beron’s shock at the turn of events breaks, and a heavy blast of fire hits Eris’s right side before he can winnow away from one carnage to another.

[wystiix]

talk to me, please

❥ pairing: venti x gn!reader ❥ synopsis: Venti anxiously waits for a text from you to the point where he overthinks and nearly spirals into madness—will you please just fucking reply already? ❥ cw: crack, attempt at humour (kms), fluff maybe?? not proof-read so some stuff may not make sense lmao ❥ additional tags: lowkey kinda revolves around texting, venti's perspective, no pronouns for reader, modern setting, venti is a humanities major cuz i said so, does this count as socmed??? idk someone tell me i need to sleep it's 2am ❥ word count: 955 ❥ notes: bonjour hi hello kumusta. my foot is fucking asleep and my leg feels numb and my back hurts and i'm tired an it's 2am i have school i need to stop. okay so for context i was texting this girl and she wasn't replying so i went crazy, and then i thought "wait i could write a fic about this" and here we are. it was actually kinda fun writing this HAHAHAHAHA but i had to rush it cuz i have other stuff to do so uh it may be a bit quick. (see end notes after reading cuz i said so /j)

The clock ticked. It had been three hours. Venti stared at his phone, impatiently waiting for you just please, please, please reply.

Try to distract yourself, one may say, and mark these fucking words, he did.

He tried everything. From listening to music to doing the dishes, to cleaning his room. Oh, but that was not all.

For the past few hours, he reorganised his notes, desk and playlist, walked at least twenty laps around his dorm, ate all his snacks from the pantry like a fatass, cleaned up his closet and planned what he was going to wear a week from now, learned a new song on his guitar and even counted every single one of his ceiling and wall tiles.

There were exactly 146 tiles in his dorm. That number now forever haunts him.

Practically exhausted from being way too productive than he usually was, he slumped down on his bed and opened the app he used to text you. There was still no reply.

Venti buried his face into his pillow, letting out a groan of frustration.

It was incredibly frustrating and it nearly drove him crazy. Were you seriously that busy? Normally you would respond within a span of seconds, a few to thirty minutes at the latest. But fucking three hours?

He couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. You both had been talking for over a week—he couldn’t afford to mess this up. 

But what if you suddenly lost interest? Oh, it felt far too early for that. Was he finally going to have that Mitski experience? Was he going to be those depressed poets who poured their hearts out through their ink on the paper when a single minor inconvenience happened to them? 

You were killing him. And it was not softly. Venti felt as if his heart was shattering into a million pieces.

Was this his destiny, his punishment for choosing to pursue such a depressing major in humanities?

How cruel the universe is.

He sighed in defeat, opening his notes app to write and exude a poetic, Shakespearean ballad about this before his phone suddenly buzzed.

Ding! You have received a new message from [Name]!

Holy shit has his fingers never moved so quickly before in his entire life, clicking on the notification faster than he could blink. Your sudden message almost gave him a heart attack, for fuck’s sake.

So much for living and breathing Shakespeare.

Oh, how his heart fluttered. A simple message, yet it had him forget about his lament just a few seconds prior and he found himself swooning, practically glazing your message as if it was the most fascinating piece of literature he had ever laid eyes on.

Venti paused, rereading your message 25 million times, unsure how to reply. Should he respond right away, or would that be too eager? He didn’t want to come off as desperate, but three hours of waiting had been excruciating. Perhaps he should wait a minute or two… No, that would be too long!

God he wanted to punch himself in the face for clicking that notification too fast, now he has to think of a response on the spot or else he’d look like an asshole.

He started to type out a response.

k, i see.

He paused, immediately deleting the message with a shake of his head. Too dry, he has to sound interested. I understand! Would you like to shift the conversation to a less taxing topic? Delete. Too formal. LMAOOO dw dw, what was it about anyway? Delete. ahh hope the essay didn’t stress u out too much!! Delete. i’m madly in love with u Delete. Had he sent that he would find the nearest cliff and leap off.

Venti sighed, lying on his back and staring at the ceiling. Why was this so complicated? He wanted to sound interested, but not desperate; casual, but not indifferent. He ended up typing something simple and hitting send before he could second-guess himself again. Sometimes, being simple is the ultimate sophistication.

He fought the urge to chuck his phone across the room. Shit, was that too casual? How long were you going to reply this time?

There were immediate blinking dots.

The tension in his chest eased as he found himself giggling at your comment. He realised the way he was acting earlier was ridiculous, maybe this wasn’t so bad.

Venti felt the weight lift off his shoulders. The conversation was back on track, and he could breathe easy again. Just as he was about to put down his phone, the blinking dots appeared again, and he immediately reverted his attention back to it.

Another message.

What.

What the fuck. Was this real?

He put his phone face down, allowing everything to sink in.

What the fuck. Coffee? Tomorrow? With you? Did you just ask him out? Was this real? Was he real? Were you real?

The anxiety that lingered within slowly ebbed away as he stared at the ceiling tiles—the same tiles that haunted him earlier. However, they now seemed oddly comforting.

“Holy shit.”

Gods above, was this a blessing? Maybe his love life wasn’t so hopeless after all.

Venti’s gaze drifted to his closet, where he noticed that same outfit he intended to wear a week from now. A cozy, soft-beige sweater with a hint of cream peeked out from behind a row of neatly hung clothes, gently draping over a pair of charcoal chinos.

He grinned like an idiot, giggling and kicking his feet like a little child who just received their favourite toy. A string of “oh my god, oh my god” repeated endlessly in his head like a loop.

And for once, the silence didn’t feel so heavy.

❥ notes: hi so yes. yes i did what he did here. yes i counted my tiles, but it was my bathroom tiles instead. there are like 121 tiles in the bathroom, including the hidden ones. in this fic i just added the average number of tiles to that number which was like 25 tiles??? lowkey idk i just estimated. and yes i did plan my outfit a week from now, which is for church. yes i cleaned my room. yes i walked more than ten laps around my living room. i was restless. yes i was productive as hell. lmfao by the time i was done with the fic she replied to me so yay!! win!! also pls get the "you were killing him and it's not softly" reference i hope someone at least gets it or else i'm gonna cry myself to sleep. yeah anyways im gonna sleep gn <3

[artemis32]

also the first person to come to mind when you said someone stubborn enough to ignore aizawa’s glare was bakugo, I feel like that would stress aizawa out so bad

platonic yandere aizawa shouta iii

Fun fact my top three favourite characters (in no specific order) in bnha are Aizawa, Bakugo and Shigaraki, so this is perfect

Also I finished this before any of the other subjugation drabbles as requested, but I'm clearing out my drafts, so hopefully I'll be able to post a few more this week

platonic aizawa masterlist

bnha masterlist

Class 1a was up to something. Aizawa knew they were.

They weren’t good at being sneaky, and for the past two weeks, they’d been behaving strangely.

Ever since the class had seen you, he’d been slightly on edge, waiting for something to go wrong. And he knew that it would sooner or later.

Class 1a were disruptive and oftentimes insubordinate. They couldn’t follow the rules and they got into trouble more often than Aizawa could keep count of.

They were troublemakers.

Aizawa knew that.

Which is why he was so suspicious of them.

They had been perfectly behaved in lessons, quiet and diligent, completing every assignment he’d given to them. They hadn’t spoken out of turn or argued once within the past two weeks. Most suspiciously though, must have been the fact that they hadn’t once brought up the question of who you were again.

It made him uneasy.

It made him annoyed.

But instead of addressing the matter as he probably should have, he kept quiet, curious to see what exactly they were up to.

He found out by the end of that week.

****

“Okay sweetheart, I’m leaving now. Are you sure you don’t want to come with me? You’re more than welcome to, it won’t be long.”

You huff out a laugh. Aizawa was running errands and had been repeatedly questioning whether you wanted to come with him. You were sure he was trying to guilt trip you into joining him.

It might have worked.

It was working.

But you were a model student, as so, your homework and assignments had to come first - much to your father’s displeasure.

The only respite was that you’d be staying safely within the walls of UA, specifically in the apartment, which made your father feel much better about leaving you by yourself.

Sometimes you think he forgets that you’re a teenager – old enough to be home alone for a few hours.

“Yes, I’m sure dad. I’ll call you or Mr Yamada if there’s an emergency. I’ll see you later.”

He huffs, accepting that you wouldn’t change your mind.

The hug he draws you into is crushing and he presses your face into his chest. You feel his chest rumble as he lets out a laugh.

“Don’t let Hizashi hear you call him that, you know how much he hates it.”

You scowl slightly. The eclectic blond often insisted that you call him by his first name, or the ever-endearing title of 'Uncle Zashi', making a habit of reminding you every time you happened to accidentally ‘forget’. You enjoyed his company, but his persistent attitude grated on your nerves sometimes.

“Don’t you dare tell him.”

Aizawa laughs again before reminding you to stay safe and call him in the case of an emergency.

You bid him one last farewell before shutting and locking the door. Paranoia seemed to be one of your father’s defining traits when it came to you.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re set up in the living room, surrounded by snacks, stationary, and papers scattered over the floor and coffee table.

****

Three hours later, you decide to call it quits for the day, packing up your belongings and returning to the living room to flop down on to the couch.

You’d been laying on the couch, watching a rerun of some old movie your father enjoyed, when there was a knock at the door.

Thinking nothing of it, you haul yourself up and make your way to the door.

It could have been anyone - Midnight or Present Mic, here to keep you company or watch over you at your father’s request, or it could have been another teacher, here to drop off paperwork for your father. Perhaps it was your father himself, having forgotten his keys.

Living amongst a group of heroes and heroes-in-training makes you comfortable, and you don’t bother checking who is at the door before flinging it wide open.

Two boys and a girl, all around your own age stand before you. One of the boys and the girl look surprised, eyebrows rising, creasing their foreheads. The second boy remains impassive, his dual-coloured eyes trailing over you, head to toe.

“Can I help you?”

They continue to stare at you for a moment before the pink-skinned girl harshly elbows the blond boy next to her.

He exclaims in pain before clearing his throat and smiling widely. 

“Hi there. I was wondering if Aizawa sensei is home?”

If your father had passed one trait on to you, it had to be his suspicious nature. You straighten slightly, nudging the door closed a few centimeters.

“Aizawa sensei is out running a few errands. He should be back soon - would you like to leave a message?”

The boy with the dual-coloured eyes leans forward slightly, his upper body now crossing over the threshold into your apartment.

“May we come in?”

Though he poses it as a question, he doesn’t wait for an answer, already pushing past you and into the hallway behind you.

Your protests fall on deaf ears, and the boy and girl still in the doorway seem to panic alongside you, scrambling in after him.

“Todoroki, you can’t just barge in like that!”

The dual-haired boy - Todoroki - ignores them and chooses to look around the apartment instead, taking in his surroundings with an air of disinterest.

“I have a question. Answer truthfully and we’ll leave.”

His two friends, still panickedly trying to urge him out of your house, still as he speaks. They stare at one another, then at Todoroki, before nodding and looking at you.

By now, you’re anxious and wary, eager to get them out. You take a deep, calming breath.

Doing as they say seems to be the best decision. You didn’t want to stir up trouble, and you definitely didn’t want your father or another teacher stumbling upon the scene.

“Fine, one question and then you’re gone.”

You cross your arms and press your mouth into a hard line, attempting to cover up your anxieties with an air of anger.

The three agree to your terms, Todoroki humming lightly before speaking.

“Is Mr Aizawa your father?”

It’s a loaded question, one you aren’t sure you want to answer. 

While you and your father hadn’t tried to cover up the fact that you were his daughter, you also hadn’t gone out of your way to announce it. The fact that the three standing before you were so curious that they went as far as to basically break into your house to get an answer made you concerned. 

Their eagerness made you believe that it would be best to lie. Then again, what would you tell them - being honest may be the only way to get them to leave without a fuss.

You nod slowly, hesitantly.

“Yes, he is.”

While the boy and girl let out noises of disbelief, Todoroki doesn’t seem to be surprised.

“See guys, told you.”

The blonde boy splutters for a moment, shoulders slumped in defeat.

“Is that all?” You ask apprehensively, still tense and nervous.

An unspoken question lingers in the air.

Will you leave now?

Todoroki nods, thanking you before calling for his two companions.

At the door, he pauses, turning to you one last time.

“Can I ask that you keep this visit a secret, just for a while. Don’t tell Aizawa sensei that we were here. Please.”

His demeanour is serious, though it seems like more of a demand than a request.

You’re already nodding in agreement.

“Yeah, sure.”

Regardless of whether he asked you or not, you wouldn’t have told your father of their visit. The last thing you needed was for his paranoia to be proven correct. 

What he didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him, and he definitely didn’t need to know that three students - three of his students - had been to his home to see you while he was away. Worse, that they knew you were his daughter.

If he found out, you’d never hear the end of it. In fact, you were slightly afraid he may never let you leave the house again.

No, you definitely would not be telling him about their visit.

By the time your father returns home hours later, you’ve scrubbed the memory of the three students from your mind, and he seems none the wiser.

The two of you have dinner and talk for a bit before going to bed.

You make no mention of the day’s events, and he doesn’t ask.

****

For the first time in what could have been years, you were in trouble. Big trouble.

From the moment you entered the apartment, it had seemed eerily still, too quiet to be natural.

When you first entered the living room, you saw your father sitting with his back towards you, posture straight and still. He didn’t turn to greet you and you feel a growing sense of unease when he tells you to sit down.

“How was your day?”

You’ve known your father long enough to recognize his tone, to know that he’s not asking because he’s actually interested.

Right now, your father, the ever stoic Shouta Aizawa, was furious.

“Answer me.”

“It was fine, classes were good.”

“Hmm. How about yesterday? What did you do yesterday?”

You’re wringing your hands now, fingers gripping at each other in a feeble attempt to mask how obviously your hands are shaking.

“Y-Yesterday was good, same as today, classes and whatnot...”

You trail off awkwardly, unsure of what exactly he wants to hear. You don’t ask though, some sense of self preservation telling you to keep your mouth shut.

“And the past weekend? How was your day on Saturday. You had some time alone, what exactly did you get up to then?”

Staring down at the floor, you clear your throat and try to think of an excuse.

“Ah, well, I got a few assignments done and made dinner.”

His hand on your shoulder almost makes you jump.

“Sweetheart, look at me.”

You don’t want to.

You don’t want to look at him, you don’t want to see his anger or disappointment or whatever other negative emotion lays there at the moment.

But his grip tightens slightly on your shoulder, not enough to hurt, just enough to grab your attention. So you close your eyes and take a deep breath before looking up and meeting your father’s gaze.

He’s angry. Angry and disappointed and everything that you feared he would be. But most of all he looks concerned, worry pinching at the juncture between his eyebrows and at the corners of his mouth.

“What happened while I was out?”

You weren’t often emotional, and you definitely didn’t cry. Crying was pointless, it didn’t change anything.

But you had to bite your bottom lip and press your nails into your palms to stop yourself from bursting into tears in that moment.

It rarely happened that you kept anything from your father. You told him everything, no matter how big or small.

Truthfully, keeping a secret this big for as long as you had had been weighing you down. You felt guilty. Granted, you weren’t exactly lying to him, but it pained you to hide something like this from your father.

And so you cracked.

A few hot tears rolled down your cheeks as you sniffled, wiping at your nose with the sleeve of your jacket.

“Three of your students came to the apartment. They asked to see you but I said you were out.”

Aizawa’s grip on your shoulder had lessened, his arm wrapping around you, shifting you closer to him.

“Is that all?”

You debated lying to him, only for a moment. It technically wouldn’t be lying, you just wouldn’t be telling the whole truth.

The idea deflated quickly once his hand came up to brush away a few tears, his thumb gently rubbing at the soft skin under your eye.

“T-They just asked if I’m your daughter or not, they left after that.”

He hums again, staring at you for a few seconds longer. It feels as if he’s pining you in place, pressuring you into talking. Evidently, you have nothing else to say.

“Can you tell me what they looked like sweetie?”

****

You imagined that this is how criminals felt.

Under any other circumstances, it might have been funny.

Before you, lined up in somewhat of an identity parade, were a the three students from your father’s class, along with a few other guilty-looking students.

Three girls, five boys, all standing pin straight, facing forward. 

In the room next door stood the rest of the class, the remaining twelve students standing in silence.

Your father’s fury, evidently, had not been aimed at you. 

Well, not fully.

He was admittedly quite upset with you for not being truthful with him, but his anger was mainly aimed at his students for interfering with his personal life. With his family.

“Sweetheart, I’ve seen how high strung you’ve been over the past few days. I was concerned, but I didn’t want to overwhelm you so I gave you some space. But today one of my students let something slip and I put together the fact that they must have had something to do with the way you’ve been acting recently.”

You didn’t want to outwardly expose the three students who had come to see you that day, but your father had threatened to punish the entire class, so you’d caved and described them as best you could.

So here they stood, not once making eye contact with you.

"Go on," your father said, staring them down with a harsh glare, one like you'd never seen before. You knew your father could be strict with his students, but this was something else.

They all bowed forward at the hip, staring straight at the ground as they spoke in sync.

"We're sorry."

You stand in stunned silence for a few short moments, before shaking your head.

"Oh, um, it's fine. Thank you for the apology. And I'm sorry too."

The blond-haired student from before tries to raise his head, a wide smile on his face before your father's hand meets his neck, holding his head down.

"Did I say you could look up?"

"Sorry sensei."

Aizawa hums, glancing at you.

"Sweetheart, you can leave now. I'll see you later."

As much as you'd like to argue, you don't. Instead, you nod and bow to the eight students before you, bidding them goodbye before making for the door.

****

Aizawa couldn't find you.

He'd stayed behind to have a little chat with a few of his students, intent on returning home to you afterwards, but now, fifteen minutes later, you were gone.

You weren't in the 1A dorms and you weren't at home.

There was nowhere else that you could be, so where had you gone?

He begrudgingly made his way back to the dorms, resigning himself to spending his afternoon with the troublesome students of class 1A.

Only, he didn't have to go very far to find you.

Not with the small crowd of students trying, and failing to hide in the bushes next to the dorms.

He sighs heavily, walking up behind them silently.

Crouching down, he whispers, "What are you looking at?"

The yelps Denki and Sero let out are both panicked and silent, though they quickly scramble back to where they were, shushing Aizawa with flapping hands.

He quirks an eyebrow. Whatever they were spying on had to be interesting if they were brave enough to shush him.

Aizawa shrugs and cranes his neck to see what has them and their friends so intruiged, and-

Absolutely not.

There, sat on a bench in the hidden garden next to 1A's dorm room, was Bakugo Katsuki.

Accompanied by you, his daughter.

And unless his eyes deceived him - was he blushing?

Having seen enough, Aizawa stands and pushes between the students clustered behind the bushes.

He calls your name, and you look up with a start, eyes wide and dazed, your cheeks strangely flushed.

"Dad?"

You and Bakugo both jump up, and you head towards Aizawa while Bakugo slips away.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were going straight home? And why were you with Bakugo?"

You laugh awkwardly, deflecting his questions as you grab his arm and head towards your own apartment, away from the 1A dorms.

"Sorry dad, I got a bit caught up. Hey, how'd the interrogation go?"

You were trying to distract him. Aizawa knew that.

But your father was nothing if not willing, so he let you get away with it, making a mental note to look into what you were doing with Bakugo Katsuki of all people later.

****

Of all the students in your father's class, Bakugo was the one he thought would stay away from you. Far away.

Unfortunately, nothing seemed to be going his way lately, and Aizawa was infuriated to learn that Bakugo had taken a liking to you.

While he may have his own strong suits, he was definitely not the type of person your father would want you to end up with. Honestly, if he had it his way, you would remain happily single and by his side until both of you died.

But those plans were put on the back burner for now.

He learnt, from a collection of camera feeds and fearful student reports, that you had indeed been on your way back home after your father's intervention, but you'd gotten caught up exploring the grounds around the dorm area.

No one could fault you for that - it was Aizawa's fault really, he never let you out on your own, especially not to explore.

It was something he'd have to work on at a later date.

While on your little adventure, you'd run into a feisty blond.

Bakugo had been tasked with clearing away the autumn leaves around the 1A dorms, a minor punishment for some or other misdemeanour, and he'd caught your attention.

That wasn't unusual - you were curious when you wanted to be. It was a trait that your father both loved and loathed.

What was unusual was that Bakugo had played along.

Aizawa knew that Bakugo knew you were his daughter. That meant that he knew not to snap at you or treat you with his usual brutish attitude as he did with his classmates.

He knew that, but he couldn't understand why Bakugo had taken such a liking to you. Aizawa knew you were perfect, but he also knew that he was biased when it came to his opinion of you.

Well, he thought, I'll just have to ask him myself.

****

For the first time in all his years as a teacher, Shouta Aizawa was stunned to the point of silence.

He never imagined the conversation would take a turn like this.

"Sensei?"

He shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the heavy fog over his mind as he throws the quizzical blond a hard look.

"No."

"No?"

He'd never felt any genuine anger or violence towards any of his students, but this-

"Well sensei, we met a while ago. She- I knew she was your daughter, so I tried to keep my distance but, well..."

"I'm sure you understand what I mean."

"We've known each other for a while. "

"If you'll allow it-"

The conversation replayed in his head as a series of broken sentences and snapshots.

He felt off-kilter, unsure of himself in the worst way possible.

The only thing he knew was that, at this moment, someone was threatening to come between you and him - threatening to take you away from him, to steal you from him.

"No," he said sharply, "Stay away from my daughter."

It was Bakugo's turn to look shocked, though he was faster to calm himself than Aizawa was.

"Sensei, is this to keep her safe, or because you don't want to share her?"

It's a strangely phrased question, one that would puzzle anyone. Anyone but Aizawa.

He understood exactly what the hotheaded child in front of him meant by the word 'share'.

It spelt trouble in more ways than one.

"No. You asked and that's my answer. Now go back to your dorm," he says, waving him out without another word.

Bakugo nods and leaves without further argument, not once looking back.

Aizawa slumped back in his seat.

Bakugo knew what you meant to his teacher, beyond what most people thought they knew - he understood the lengths he'd go to to keep you safe and happy. The fact that he'd left without a fight proved as much.

More concerning than that though, had to be the fact that Bakugo was the same as him. He had the same unsettling urge to be with you, to be the only source of your attention.

Aizawa had seen it in his eyes, but heard it moreso in his words.

Share.

No, he wouldn't share you. Not with anyone.

[sebsxphia]

i’m just thinking about that game that the other anon sent you and all i can imagine is one of the dagger squad has feelings for you and you have to do something promiscuous with one of the others and they get all possessive and grab you and tells everyone that you guys gotta go 😭😭😭

-🧚‍♀️

drinking games.

jake ‘hangman’ seresin x reader.

￫ description: jake’s the designated driver for the evening and watching as you play drinking games with the dagger squad. when you get dared to perform an act on bradley, everything should be fine, right?

￫ word count: 1.6K.

￫ c/w: alcohol, being drunk, sexual acts being performed, daddy kink, dumbification if you squint, swearing, kissing, neck biting and ass pinching.

￫ a/n: thank you so much my beloved anon for making this come to light! <3 this is part of my 3.5K celly here! my main masterlist can be found here! 💌

Mickey could barely contain his laughter as he read from the suggestive card, eyeing your intrigue from across the circle that was crowded in Bradley’s living room. “Oh God, okay, okay.” Mickey composed himself and took a swig of his sixth beer, everyone following closely behind with their own multitude of concoctions. Mickey breathed out a steady breath before revealing the gag. “Give a lap dance to the person on your left.”

Natasha clapped her hand over her mouth and let out a muffled scream at the realization that it was Bradley who you were giving the lap dance to. Bob slapped his hand on Mickey’s shoulder and howled out in laughter, his head being launched forward as he clutched at his sides. Bob was notorious for getting way more giggly and outlandish once he’d sunk a couple of beverages. It made sense why he didn’t drink the warm Summer evening they met at the Hard Deck all those years ago.

Rueben and Javy let out cheers and hollers in response at the proposed action, however Javy gave a fleeting glance over to Jake who was the only one not laughing. His hands were clasped tightly together with his jaw set firm and his eyebrows knitted together. He was the only one not drinking tonight, pulling the short straw and having to drive Javy, Rueben and you back home. From an outsiders perspective, it would look like Jake was exhausted with trying to keep up with seven Navy pilots who hadn’t been drunk in months.

At present, Javy was the only one privy to the arrangement you and Jake had had for the past three months. It was simply casual sex which turned into something more serious within the past two weeks.

You were yet to tell the Dagger squad, but you both agreed there was something about the sneaking around and the silent suspicion of it all that you both enjoyed. The fleeting glances you would share in the hanger, occasionally brushing hands when you were suiting up for training that day. It was sending a flying feeling through you both, eliciting a growing hunger and a need to take each other in the nearest storage room the moment you had any time to yourselves.

But at this moment in time, in Bradley’s living room, on the one night a month when you all got together and had a drink, you had to hide it more than ever. You played off Mickey’s proposed suggestion from the boozy card game and acted like giving Bradshaw a lap dance was just like any other flirty move you’d pulled before. There was nothing to it and there was certainly nothing to it to anyone else in the room right now.

Right?

The rouge on Bradley’s cheeks could only be noticed by Jake. The others had their senses inhabited and it drove Jake up the wall. Bradley took a swig of his beer and sat back in his arm chair, resting his board arms over the back with his thighs spread. Bradley wriggled his eyebrows at you playfully and smacked one of his thighs breifly. Jake let out a silent scoff at the motion and rolled his eyes under his hooded gaze.

“Come on, honey. Lay it on me!”

“He doesn’t bite!” Natasha encouraged from next to you, which caused Rueben to snort with laughter, everyone knowing of Bradley and Natasha’s fleeting hook up prior to Top Gun.

You barked out a laugh in respone to Bradley’s crude action and buried your face in your hands to hide the embarrassment that was slowly working it’s way up to the surface. You were happy to play along with everyone else, but you were reminded of Jake sat two people away from you.

You caught his eyes as you took a hefty swig of the cocktail Javy had very kindly made up for you. Javy wasn’t one to fuck around with measurements and you needed the dutch courage more than anything right now. The heavy gaze of Jake bore deep into you. It made your heart hammer against your rib cage violently and you felt something shift, deep down in your core. Did it turn you on to have Jake watch you do this?

That would be another thing to work through later.

Jake had shifted in his seat now. His two feet were planted firmly on the ground with his thighs spread slightly apart. His elbows were resting on his knees and his clasped hands were brought close to his face, presumably to hide the furious jealously that was coming closer to the surface. Jake nodded curtly as if to give you the signal and wordlessly, he warned you. “Go on. Do it.”

“Wait, wait!” Mickey clambered up from his seat and went to his phone that was currently in charge of the playlist. He switched it up to a song that made you feel like Bradley was about to pay for this lap dance.

A sea of ‘whoops’ and ‘hollers’ echoed across the Dagger squad at Mickey’s quite frankly, scandalous, song choice. Everyone was bubbling with excitement for the show you were about to put on, all expect for one person in particular. You knew Jake was going to punish you through to next year for this, but…

There was a flicker across his hardened gaze on you that suggested he wanted you to do this. He wanted to see you dance on Bradley as you held his eye contact instead. He wanted to watch you grind your ass in calculated circles on Bradley’s crotch, imagining it was him instead.

He wanted you to put on a show for him, and that’s exactly what you fucking did.

You saddled yourself onto Bradley for the duration of the song, moving your hips and ass in smooth motions that would have anyone drooling. Before you could even register it, the dance was over and Bradley gave you a very polite round of applause. Perhaps it was to hide his growing semi. The group were too drunk themselves to notice, but unfortunately Jake had already clocked on.

That was enough for Jake for Bradley to insinuate that he’d enjoyed it a little too much and it was the final straw. He watched you stumble back to your seat due to your legs giving in from the lap dance, but Jake used it as the perfect excuse for everyone that you’d had too much to drink. Before you could question what Jake was doing, you felt his big hand grab onto your arm, swinging his car keys in his other.

“Alright, sorry to cut this short but I think they need to go home guys.” A disappointed chorus of groans could be heard and you looked over at Jake. “I’ll take ‘em home. Catch you guys on Monday.” His tone was firm and it cut through any protests from the squad. His tightly knitted brows and set jaw made you clench around nothing. You knew that look on Jake and he was pissed. He wanted to leave with you in tow as quick as he could fly his damn plane.

You bid your goodbyes and let out a squeal of giggles when Jake tugged on your arm to hurry you along. You caught Natasha’s face just before you left Bradley’s living room and she raised her glass, screaming out after you, “get it!”

“Where ‘re they goin’?” Bob slurred to Natasha, adjusting his glasses on his face, finally registering you and Jake had left.

“Bone.”

Bob snorted in response to Natasha and clapped his hands together in celebration.

“Shots anyone?”

Bob’s voice echoing through the hallway was the last you heard before the front door to Bradley’s was shut behind you. Jake had cut you off completely. It left you alone with the big, bad, wolf. The night air hit your face in turn. It was still warm and a little muggy being Summer time. Jake’s grip lessened on your arm and you followed on behind to his truck parked up in Bradley’s drive.

“C’ ere.” Jake’s voice was gruff with the Southern drawl peeking through. Despite the warmth of the Summer air, it sent a chill down your spine and spread easily to your cunt. His large hands gripped onto your waist and spun you around to push your chest against his car door. Jake pressed his broad chest flush against your back and you felt his lips ghost over your neck, his breath tickling your flesh and making goosebumps rise in its wake. “What the fuck was that, sweets?” Jake’s voice was close to your ear and low.

You decided to toy with him a little and you pressed your ass back against his crotch. Testing the waters, you put on the most sickly sweet voice you could muster. “What was what?”

Jake let out a grunt from deep within his chest and pinned his hips into you, jolting you forward. He sunk his teeth into the soft flesh under your ear and nipped at you. “Don’t you dare play fuckin’ dumb with me.”

“I was just playin’ the game, lover boy.”

“Play-” Jake scoffed out a laugh and shook his head, keening his mouth against your neck to leave more crescent shapes on your skin with his teeth. He was unable to believe your audacity to play innocent right now. “Playin’ the game? No, no. You were doin’ more than that. I saw you, I watched every, single, move, of your hips, every touch of your hand.” One of Jake’s own hands left your waist and slinked it down in between you both to pinch at your ass harshly. “Who was that for, me or Bradley?”

The sensation of Jake pin pointing your sweet spots with small pinches of pain made you gasp. A wanton moan escaped your mouth in response to Jake’s fiery touch encapsulating your very being. You were simply incapable to hold them back anymore.

“You.”

“You, who?”

Jake pinched at you again and you succumbed to the Devil completely.

“You… Daddy.”

taglist: @beachbabey @tallrock35 @luckyladycreator2 @unmistakablyunknown

tagging those who were interested in the wip: @sugarcoated-lame @chicomonks @emorychase @wkndwlff

[tidbit-fanfic]

A/N: WOW did this take forever. Did you think I’d honestly leave Forever & Always as it was? Here’s your fix-it-fic, part two to Forever & Always, but of course you don’t have to read this if you don’t want to fix things. That’s fine.

TW: 18+ Smut, protected sex (wrap your willy silly), car sex, blood, cannon level violence, angsty angst, the l-word, Micheal, mention of castration, spanking, makeup/angry sex?, fluffy fluff

No one ever said breakups were easy. Months passed before I could even look Dean in the eye again, and more passed until we returned to how we were before the relationship had ever happened. We formed a close bond and worked together on case after case. I accompanied Castiel and Kelly when the Winchesters were arrested, and I became a major support during Kelly’s pregnancy, within the limits set by Cas. When they busted out to raise more hell? I was there to help clean up after them. 

Things became rocky when Dean began lashing out towards Jack. I slammed my fist into his jaw one time. I don’t regret it, and I don’t think I ever will. He left in a huff after, ignoring me, as Sam and I tried to make sense of everything. A whirlwind of catastrophic events later, Dean stepped forward, doing the one thing he promised he never would: let Micheal in. 

“Anyone find anything?” 

“Sam, we’ve been searching for weeks, and every time you ask that question, what’s the answer?”

The younger Winchester pushes his hand through his hair, a deep sigh leaving his lungs. “Just hoping for something.”

“I know. You miss him, but we’re working overtime to scrounge up anything on him. Have you even slept in the past twenty-four hours?” I stand from the rickety chair I’d been sitting in for the past hour, looking into Sam’s eyes. His face quickly switched to one of guilt, a shy, school-boyish look taking over his features. My hands found their place on my hips, taking on a motherly stance. “Go. Sleep. Now.”

“But—”

“Now, Samuel.” He runs off to his room to get some sleep, hopefully. I turn back to my small team of five people. They all shake their heads, a couple returning their eyes to the screen sitting before them. With no sign of Dean, Sam and Mary have become overly stressed, constantly checking in on any form of a lead. Meanwhile, Jack and Cas are out doing their own little thing, leaving me to manage this small team, checking sources daily. Micheal must be covering his tracks extremely well because our facial scanners have reported back nothing about Dean, or any unnatural glitching. 

I walk my way into the kitchen, searching for a distraction. These past few weeks, I organized and reorganized the kitchen at least three times. It’s become my solitude after losing Dean yet again. I pulled out some ingredients and began cooking dinner for everyone in the bunker, hoping that by keeping my hands busy, I could distract my mind. 

“So, you’re going to follow this lead alone?” I cross my arms, narrowed eyes sizing up the Winchester standing in front of me, resulting in Sam shaking his head.

“I’m meeting up with mom and Bobby on the way.”

“Fine,” I say, pushing off of the table, watching as he goes to turn. “And Sam?”

“Yes?”

“Bring him back.”

Sam looks at me, a hint of remorse playing in his eyes. He goes to open his mouth before I wave him off, making my way to Jack’s room. I raise my hand and knock, waiting for Jack’s response. The door creaks as I open it, revealing the young male who has been living with us for some time. 

“Hey, buddy. How’s it going?”

“I mean, better now. Cas is finally beginning to see that I can help on hunts.”

I nod, sitting at the foot of his bed. “Did Sam tell you…”

“He did.” 

“Oh,” I state, racking my brain for ways to keep the conversation flowing when the blonde pipes up.

“You still care for him. Don’t you?”

My eyes snap up to Jack’s. “Jack. It’s difficult.”

“It’s not though. You should tell him when he’s back.”

“I can’t do that, he’s…it's…complicated.”

The male tilts his head, eyes searching my face for an explanation. I sigh, “I, well, he was the one who messed up, and I just took it. I accepted he didn’t like me enough to work through it. Then I fell apart, Jack, and I can’t live through that again.” 

“Is that truly how you feel?”

“There is no other way. We can’t, he can’t change what he did. I can’t forgive him for making me a second choice.”

Jack reached forward, resting a hand on mine, the other to wipe away the tears that fell. “But you still love him.”

“Yes,” I whisper. “But I can’t have him.”

“Y/N, I know I may not have been on this earth for long, but I’ve seen enough to say this: if you love him, give Dean a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

I stand, wiping my face. “No Jack, I can’t” 

I leave his room, returning to the main part of the bunker, not before grabbing a glass of alcohol to numb the pain. I join the research team in the library, sitting in one of the few comfy chairs while Jack’s words echo through my head. “Give him a second chance. You never know how things might go this time around.”

 Heavy footsteps resonate through the bunker, Cas re-entering from Jack’s room, a look of shock crossing his features. “Dean?”

I watch as Cas wraps Dean into a hug, setting my glass on a nearby table as Dean’s voice rings out. “Hey, Cas.”

One of the few extra hunters walks up to Sam, running him through the information we collected since his departure. Meanwhile, Dean looks around at all the new bodies occupying the bunker. I turn my head away, beginning to make my way towards my room to avoid interaction with him, but it seems as if fate has other plans, with one of my subordinates stepping into my field of vision. “Cap? We have a couple of updates on that nest you asked about?”

“Show me what you have.” I look down at the tablet, littered with pins displaying the nest’s pattern of migration. I listen as they explain the situation, ignoring the presence creeping in from behind me. 

“Okay, send out a small group, maybe five? Check in with Sam to get it approved and run a couple of facial scans to ensure that they are where you’re predicting. Good work.”

“On it Captain.” 

“Captain? That’s an interesting nickname.” Jumping at the rough voice, I turn to meet a pair of forest green eyes I used to call home. I look him up and down, taking in the state of him, and maybe, just maybe, appreciating the archangel’s fashion taste, paired with Dean’s attempt at making it comfortable. As I meet his eyes, I can't help but force a smile, refusing to reveal my emotions.

“Dean! It’s so great to see you in one piece. Sam had us searching everywhere for you.”

“Sam did? It wasn’t you?” 

“He was driving himself sick.”

He nods, rubbing a hand across the back of his neck. “Look, Y/N, I know we—”

“Captain?” Another voice cuts through his sentence, and I turn to see Charlie holding out a tablet, nodding to Dean before redirecting her attention to me. 

“The reports you wanted just came back. Our predictions were right. Ketch’s team is nearby, just a couple of miles down the way. We’re sending them the info on the nest right now.” 

“Thank you, Charlie. And it’s really great to see you back, Dean. Especially in one piece.” I turn, heading back to my room, this time without interruptions. I close the door behind me, sliding down against it before rubbing my temples. Breakups aren’t easy, and living in the same space as your ex just makes it worse. 

The next morning, I’m up before everyone else, starting coffee and breakfast for the bunker. A sweaty Sam enters the kitchen, grabs a glass of water, and then presumably leaves to take a shower before the hustle of the bunker begins. I relax into the routine I’ve put myself into since Dean left, mundane tasks I easily get lost in. Breakfast is finished before I return to my room, a notification lighting up my phone’s screen from Sam. I flip my phone over, opting for a couple more hours of sleep before dealing with him. 

The sound of knocking wakes me up, as my door moves slightly with the action. I open it, coming face-to-face with Sam. Taking a step back, I rush to smooth down my hair while Sam lets out a low whistle. “And I thought my bedhead was bad.”

I throw a middle finger at him, glaring as he chuckles. “What do you want?”

“Just got a case in.” He walks in, taking a seat at my desk, opening his laptop to reveal a newspaper article. Man Reported Missing By Girlfriend: Claims A Giant Woman-Bird Took Him. 

“Are we sure she’s not just crazy?”

“Yes, multiple police reports of missing men in the area have a claim of ‘giant woman-birds’ taking them. Seems like an us problem.”

I look over his shoulder at the reports, showing drawn portraits of the attackers. “Jesus, those look like harpies. Tricky little buggers, but should be a ‌simple case. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be ready.”

“Good, see you then.”

Ten minutes later, I cross the threshold to the garage, eyes scanning it for the younger Winchester. The passenger side window of the Impala rolls down, revealing Dean, sitting in the driver’s seat. “C’mon, we don’t have all day. If Sam’s right about the feeding patterns, they’re gonna strike again tonight.” 

I look over my shoulder to the door of the garage. “Speaking of Sam, where is he? I thought it was just going to be us on this hunt?”

“Nope. Just me and you, princess.”

“Don’t call me that.” I open the door, tossing my bag into the backseat before climbing in, staying as far away from Dean as possible. He grumbles something under his breath, throwing Baby into drive and leaving the bunker. This was going to be a long hunt. 

Blood hit my face as my knife sliced through a harpy’s wing. The creature let out a screech before turning to me, its teeth elongating as it prepared to attack. I raised an arm to push back when a gunshot rang through the air. She fell to the ground, revealing a blood-covered Dean standing behind her. I dropped my arm, huffing and kicking at the dead body of the woman. We had destroyed the nest,and all the harpies within it, leaving only one last step before we could head to a hotel and get cleaned up. I looked at Dean, whose eyes remained locked on me with worry. “You ready to burn these bitches?”

A smirk broke out on his face. “You know it.”

I giggled beneath my breath, grabbing a container of gasoline before returning to the building. I poured it on top of the bodies, as well as the makeshift nests, before returning to Baby. Dean pulled a zippo from his pocket, striking it before throwing it into the door. We both leaned back onto the vehicle, watching as the building went up in flames, the adrenaline slowly beginning to leave our systems. 

I turn, looking at the man beside me. While checking him over for any wounds, noticing his shoulder bleeding. Claw marks from where the harpy attempted to take him. I reach out, pulling the torn fabric from the wound for a closer look. “Crap, Dean, this looks like it hurts.”

“I hadn’t noticed.” He shrugs, tensing as my hands work over his wound. “First aid is in the backseat.”

I nod, going to get it, ready to be done with the hunt. “Alcohol incoming.”

After I ensure he won't get an infection, I thread a fishing line into place, starting the first stitch, causing a hiss to rip from his mouth. Stitch after stitch, I tend to the injury, patching over it with some hydrocolloid bandages before stepping back. 

My eyes flutter open, revealing unfamiliar scenery. Dean looks up from his phone. “All good. Just taking a pit stop. Showers are over there.”

“I thought we were going to a motel?” I rub my eyes, reaching over the seat for my bag. 

“I thought it’d be pretty stupid, considering we’re only five hours from home. I was just gonna clean up and nap a bit before finishing the drive.”

I nod leaving the Impala and making my way to the shower building, clutching my pocket knife in my right hand as a safety precaution. I knew Dean had parked in an area where he could see the entrance, but it never hurt to be a little extra cautious. I entered the station, locking myself into one stall and starting the shower. Peeling my crusty clothes from off, I rinsed them in the water, hoping to remove some of the blood. I climbed into the shower, scrubbing away the gore painted on my body. My mind wandered to our situation. 

I had slept in the Impala with Dean many times, mostly when the motel was out of vacancies, leaving us to find a station similar to this. Sam would stretch out in the backseat while I cuddled up to Dean, safe in his arms. Back when I trusted him with my life. Now, I can’t trust him as far as I could throw him. ‘Give him a second chance.’ If only it were that easy.

I return to the Impala, devoid of monster blood. Dean’s head was lolled back, resting against the seat. I knocked on the window before opening my door, ensuring he wouldn’t shoot me. He opened his eyes, a strained smile covering his features when he saw me. I climbed in and curled up against the door, hoping to catch a little more sleep. Minutes passed before his deep timbre echoed through the car. “I know you’re still up.”

“Not the point Dean. I’m trying to sleep, what you should be doing.”

“I can’t.”

I opened my eyes, turning to him. “Why not?”

“It’s,” he swallowed. “Nothing. Sorry.”

“No, it’s not nothing. What’s wrong?”

He scrubbed his hand down his face, looking out his window. “Micheal fucked with my head.”

“I thought you couldn’t remember anything?”

“I lied somewhat. He was awful Y/N. Showing me the things he would do if I didn’t obey. I—I can’t get the images out of my head.” His voice became tight with emotion.

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. He’s gone now.” 

“That’s not the point. Micheal threatened Sam, mom, Cas, Jack, but the worst? He threatened you. God, Y/N, if you saw half of what he was going to do to you, you wouldn’t want to be anywhere near me.”

“Dean. He’s gone. We’ll find him, kill him and you’ll be fine.”

“Damn it Y/N, you don’t get it do you?”

“I don’t get what?”

“I love you! That’s why he threatened you.” I look into his forest-green eyes, studying the pain and anguish hidden behind them. 

“You don’t get to say that.”

“And why not?” 

I rest my back against the door, as far from him as possible. “You dumped me, remember? For a one-month-old? Not to mention how much of an asshole you were during the whole Amara situation.”

“I’m—”

“No Dean. You hurt me. You showed me just how little you care about me. You wouldn’t have even thought about her twice if you actually loved me. When Micheal convinced you to say yes, and you disappeared, I knew there was no fixing this. One day you're gonna find someone else and leave me just like you did the first time. I can’t go through that again. It would kill me.” I look at him, tears threatening to break through. “I love you. But I can’t do this to myself again”

“I won’t do it again, baby. Forever & al—”

“No!” My sob catches in my throat as I hug myself. “Forever doesn’t exist. Always means occasionally to you Dean.”

“Baby—”

���Stop.” I close my eyes, the pain slowly turning into anger. “I don’t want to hear it.”

Silence envelopes the space between us, leaving an awkward feeling between us.  

A sigh echoes from him, his hand running through his hair. “I know I fucked up. The Mark made me an absolute asshole, and I knew you deserved better. I tried real hard to bottle up those emotions I had for Amara, knowing they were only because of some weird mark-magic shit. After the whole demon ordeal, I knew you deserved better, so I quit trying. I had to hurt you to get you to leave me. I couldn’t run the risk of hurting you again.”

“Dean, that's not your discussion to make.”

“Isn’t it? I’m the one who was going to hurt you. It was me who took the Mark.”

“You don’t think I would’ve done the same to save the world? You’re really fucking dense if you can’t see I would’ve done the exact same thing. The only difference between you and me? I wouldn't have pushed you away for some random creature. Especially a baby!”

“Damnit Y/N. You don’t get it.”

“Then help me understand.” 

His eyes flicker from mine to my lips. “I love you so goddamn much, that hurting you would be hell all over again. And this time, not even Chuck could pull me out.”

My breath caught in my chest. “You don’t mean that.”

“Evey fucking word.”

I look out the window, mulling over his words. “Dean. I—”

“Fuck it.” Dean undoes his seatbelt, grabbing my jaw and forcing his lips to mine. Gasping, I open for his tongue, our saliva mixing into an intoxicating elixir. I throw my arms over his shoulders, pulling on the hairs at the nape of his neck. He pulls back exposing his neck, as I kiss along his jawline. I nip and suck beautiful bruises into his skin, pulling at the neckline of his shirt to reveal more of his skin. His hands go to grip my ass, pulling me over to straddle him. I lean back, making contact with his lust-darkened eyes and swollen lips. My hips grind down, a familiar ache developing in my lower stomach. Dean bites his lip, watching my hips as I rock against the zipper of his jeans, his erection pulling the fabric taut. I bring my lips to his again, small pecks while his hand rests around my throat,wringing a whine from me. “Princess, get your ass to the backseat now.”

I climbed into the back of the Impala, Dean following right on my tail, grinding his clothed cock against my ass as the door shut behind us. I went to turn around, stopped only by the sting of his hand meeting the meat of my ass. “Nuh uh, pretty girl, hands and knees.” 

“Asshole.” A crack rings through the air, his hand meeting my butt once again. 

“What was that again? Couldn't hear it over your bratty attitude.”

I lean my head on my arms, biting my lip to keep from saying anything else. Dean played with the waistband of my leggings, pulling the band just to let it snap against my skin. I push back into him, needing him urgently. Finally, he pulls my leggings and panties down, leaving them tangled up in my knees. Hands trace up my thighs, thumbs spreading my lower lips apart. “Jesus. Why’d I give this up? Such a pretty pussy, just begging for attention” 

“Don’t tease.”

“‘M not baby, just enjoying the view.” He trails his fingers through my folds, fingertips catching on my clit with each drag. Returning to my entrance, he slips his ring finger into me, curling it upward before he adds another. Suddenly, he pulls away, the sounds of his belt being undone sending a rush of anticipation through me. Dean slides his cock along my cunt, coating himself in the wetness fund there. “Wait, wait.”

“What’s wrong?” He leans back, removing his hands from my body. 

“Condom?” 

“Right, right, shit.” Dean climbs over the seat, popping open the glove box to get the needed protection. His jeans and boxers sit on his thighs, cock bobbing as he rolls the condom over it. “Good?”

“Good. Now get in here, cowboy.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

He breaches my entrance, pushing into my heat, causing a whimper to leave my lips, shaped into his name. The cool metal of his belt buckle presses against the back of my thigh when he bottoms out, his groan vibrating against my back. “Dean, move.”

He tucks his head into my shoulder, a deep groan releasing from his chest. “Sweetheart, if I move, I’m gonna cum like a goddamn pre-teen. Give me a second.”

Rocking my hips back onto him, I earn myself another breathy moan. “Please, Dean?”

“Shit. You’re gonna be the death of me, baby.” He pulls back, my pussy encouraging him to return home. His hips snap to mine, balls tapping at my clit. I arch my back, panting as I meet each of his thrusts. He sits back, hands finding their place on my hips, dragging me back. “Look at you, such a perfect slut for me, aren’t ya? All for me.”

I moan as his hips speed up, the tip hitting the spongy spot inside me. Dean lands another slap on my ass, leaning forward to kiss the place under my ear. “You’re dripping, soaking my cock so well. And you said you didn’t miss this.”

He grinds into me, the icy feeling of the buckle pressing deep into the heat of my thigh. Baby’s windows fog up, our breaths intertwining in ecstasy as he speeds up, going harder, faster, deeper. Dean’s hand slides up my back, knotting into my hair, pulling me up to my knees, without slowing down. “God baby, your pussy is the closest thing to heaven I’ve ever felt. Fuck. Such a good girl for, shit, for me.” 

  I clench around his cock, my orgasm within reach. “Dean, I, I need—”

“I know, princess, I know.” His other hand wraps around the front of my waist, slipping between my folds as he finds my clit, circling it with the right amount of pressure. My head falls onto his shoulder, shameless moans exchanged between us as my climax comes closer and closer. “Dean.”

“C’mon babydoll, cum fr’me.” With that, I reach the heavens, Dean following close behind with a couple of thrusts before he spills into the condom. We lay there, breaths intermingling as he tucks his head into my neck again, pressing soft kisses to the skin there. I pull him away, looking into those enchanting green eyes of his. 

“Fuck you, Dean Winchester.”

He laughs, pressing a kiss to my lips. “You just did, sweetheart.”

After cleaning up, again, I curl up on his chest in the back seat, satisfied and secure, as Dean traces patterns along my back, his breath evening out. 

“Dean.” He hums. “I meant what I said earlier. I truly love you.”

“I love you too sweet—”

“But if you break my heart this time, I will cut off your dick.”

“Fair. Now can you go to sleep? I fuckin’ exhausted.”

I giggle at his wording, snuggling into his chest again. Breakups are hard, but when you’re hopelessly in love, it’s hard to remember the pain. Unfortunately, I fell in love with Dean Winchester, and by fate’s design, he fell in love with me. 

[standfucker]

The Break

Characters: Kid, Killer

Reader: GN, they/them

Word Count: 7.5k

CW: Gore, graphic description of injury+pain+first aid, hurt/comfort, confessions, highly oblivious reader

Summary: You knew you were bad with feelings, but the fact that it took a severe injury for this to come to light was maybe a little concerning.

Ao3 Link

There had only been two moments in your entire career as a pirate where you didn’t live up to your “Slippery” epithet. The first time was when Eustass Kid had bested you in combat. Rather than killing you, he offered you a place on his crew, which you had accepted–partially in the hopes of becoming stronger, and maybe also because you kind of found him incredibly attractive. That was three years ago.

The second time was right now. The enemy’s weapons consist of giant, metal crab claws, one of which snaps shut around your forearm with the force of an industrial machine before you can shave away. You’re pretty sure the whole battlefield heard the snap. A few things run through your brain in quick succession:

One–that’s going to hurt really, really badly in a second. You only have a short amount of time to counterattack.

Two–this was karma for that conversation in the mess room a few weeks ago, where you taunted the others over your having never broken a bone.

“I grew up on a dairy farm. My bones are like iron. Don’t compare it to the shortbread you all have for a skeleton.”

“You just haven’t battled enough, Slip.”

“Wrong! It’s because no one can catch me. They call me ‘Slippery Y/n’ because I’m too fast.”

“Yeah, yeah. But not fast enough, since you’re with us now!”

“Fuck off!”

Not fast enough indeed. But at least, now, you’re within striking range of the enemy. He doesn’t block in time; your scimitar opens his throat like a cut purse and sends him to his knees, gurgling. Your arm is released and you collapse on the ground, but before you can get back up, the pain hits with an intensity that immediately rips an agonized scream from deep in your lungs.

It’s like your arm’s been doused in gasoline and set on fire. Burning and sharp, sharp, sharp, so overwhelming you’re nauseous. You make the mistake of looking at your arm, and the flash of white sticking through the skin nearly makes you vomit on the spot. Seeing it for what it is somehow makes the pain worse, leaving you breathlessly curling over yourself on instinct, unable to move. Somewhere next to you the body of your enemy thuds onto the ground, dead.

The battle against the opposing crew is almost over. Though it’s not much longer before the last enemy is slain and someone rushes to your side, it feels like an eternity.

“Slip, are you okay?” You hear Hip’s voice before you, high-pitched with concern. It drops once she notices your injury. “Are you–oh. Oh, fuck. Um, guys! Hey, you guys! Slip is really hurt!”

Footsteps, more voices. One by one, crewmates converge around you.

“Oh, ew.”

“Oh, shit, Slip!”

“Slip!”

“Get out of the way!” 

That last one would be Kid. You look up in time to see him push past a crewmate, face taught in what seems like anger but you’ve since learned to recognize is worry. Most of his deeper emotions are like that, sitting in the shadow of enmity but easily discernible if you knew him well enough.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?” he asks, unable to assess your full state with you hunched over. The gruesomeness of your injury doesn’t seem to bother him. You shake your head, and relief softens his expression. “Okay. I know it hurts, but you’re gonna live.”

“I can’t get up,” you gasp, breath coming out short.

“Then I’ll carry you to the ship. Doctor’s on standby.” Kid crouches down next to you, flesh hand resting on your good shoulder. “It’s gonna hurt. Sorry in advance, Y/n.”

He’s the only one who doesn’t call you by your nickname. It makes sense, as he’s the one who caught you in the first place–it doesn’t really apply to him.

“It already hurts,” you reply, stupidly inviting more karma. Kid must think the same thing, because he frowns at you.

“Oh, just wait,” he mutters, and scoops you up as carefully as he can. The movement tears fresh hell through your arm, and you shout before you can even think to hold it in.

At least he doesn’t say ‘I told you so.’ It would only be salt in the wound, and you’re already in so much pain you can barely think. The walk back to the ship is its own trial, every step jolting your arm again, even with Kid’s best efforts to move smoothly. You tell yourself to be tough for about three seconds before it goes out the window. Frankly, you don’t deal with it well at all–you’ve never had a strong pain tolerance, it’s partly why you learned to be quick–but you manage not to scream with every step, so that’s something.

It’s a terrible shame that you’ll only remember this as excruciating–under any other circumstance, you would have cherished being held by Kid like this.

You glimpse your injury again, a wave of queasiness rising in your stomach, and press your face into Kid’s shoulder so as not to look. “I’m gonna throw up,” you say weakly.

“Since when does gore bother you?” Kid says under his breath, but you hear it.

“Since it is coming from MY BODY!!” you snarl. For once, Kid pities you enough not to scold you for talking back.

You’re shaking by the time you get to the infirmary. Most of the crew has come out of the battle unscathed, or with only minor injuries. The ship’s doctor is only concerned with you, and getting your bleeding to stop. But to close the rip…

“I have to reset the bones, first,” he says.

That was obvious to anyone with eyes, but you didn’t really think about it until just then. Your guts turn to stone at the thought, heavy and sinking as your heart starts to race. The lightest movement to your body is already enough to make you want to quit life on the spot; you are not prepared, capable, nor willing to see what it would feel like when the bone itself is directly touched. 

“You can leave it as-is,” you say, not joking in the slightest, not caring if it sounds cowardly, not even caring that half the crew is surrounding the exam table to hear it.

Kid takes one look at the fear in your eyes and turns to the rest of the crew. “Get out,” he commands. Everyone complies without question, only Killer staying behind, the unspoken exception.

Once the last person closes the door behind them, Kid focuses on you. “Y/n–”

“I can’t do it,” you cut him off, eyes welling up with tears. “I–I don’t want to.”

“Tough,” Kid snaps. “This is what you get for getting caught.”

“Kid,” Killer says, a warning to go easy on you.

It’s not necessary. You can see right through Kid’s harsh exterior. He always gets upset when a crewmate is hurt badly. What he’s really saying is ‘this is what you get for making me worry.’

“No time for discussion,” says the doctor. “I’d like to get this done before any more blood is lost. Hold them down, would you?”

Before you can protest, Kid and Killer secure you in place: Kid’s metal hand presses down on your legs while his flesh one wraps tightly around your good arm, and Killer pins your torso to his from behind.

“Wait, wait, wait!” you cry out quickly, but you can’t budge against them both. 

Kid nods at the doctor. “Do it.”

The disinfectant comes first, stealing the breath from your lungs, like acid on your exposed flesh. The doctor gives you no time to process the first action before he moves onto the second–rationally, you know it’s to minimize the amount of time you’ll be in pain, but you are incapable of viewing his actions kindly at the moment. He immediately forces the bones back to where they should be in one firm, expert motion. 

The world goes white. Nothing exists anymore except for the pain in your arm, unimaginable and all-consuming. You don’t perceive anything else, blind and deaf to any stimuli that isn’t sheer agony. Later on, you’ll realize that you must have screamed, if the soreness when you speak is any indication, but you don’t remember it.

The intensity eventually wanes enough to restore your senses, though your head is still swimming from the assault. Your sight returns first. Instead of the cold infirmary, your vision is entirely filled by Kid, his face so close you’d be staring into his eyes if they were open. His forehead is pressed to yours, and he’s saying something, but you don’t process it until your hearing comes back a moment later.

“...did good, Y/n, you did good. You’re okay. Easy, you’re okay.”

Kid… you think dimly, followed by, huh. Have I seen him do this with anyone but Killer?

You don’t question it beyond that thought, hanging onto his every word. The closeness abates the hurt, even if just slightly, and you bask in it, taking any mercy you can get. Kid and ‘comfort’ aren’t things that generally go together, but to you–scared, in pain, and maybe just a little bit hopelessly in love with him–it’s everything.

Killer smooths your hair back. His solid chest against your back is grounding, helping you stay present through the haze of misery. You’re suddenly grateful he’s there, too, his presence equally as soothing as Kid’s, the degree to which triggering a new realization: It’s obvious in hindsight, but you’ve never been great at analyzing your own feelings, and as such, it only just dawns on you that you’re down just as bad for the first mate. The revelation would have been panic-inducing if it wasn’t for the pain currently demanding all of your attention.

“They still with us?” Killer asks behind you.

Kid’s eyes open, meeting yours. You’ve never seen them this close before. The irises are an orange-gold, reminding you of smoldering embers. Your breath leaves you once more, but you’re not sure pain is the cause this time. Though it must have left you delirious, because your mouth moves before your brain can catch up.

“You have pretty eyes,” you mumble.

Said pretty eyes widen, Kid pulling back in surprise. He glances at Killer. “...That answer your question?”

Killer hums, gently rubbing your good arm. You go limp, leaning your full weight back against him without shame, hurting too much to care right then. He doesn’t seem to mind, anyway.

There’s a faint tinge of pink on Kid’s face, and he smirks down at you. “Better be careful there, Y/n. You can’t blame what you say on a head injury.”

“Whatever,” you huff, knowing you can get away with being rude without repercussions for now. “I don’t–” your words break into a gasp as the pain in your arm spikes so intensely that spots dot your vision.

Kid’s smirk instantly falls. You try to look at your burning arm, but he turns your head back so you’re watching him instead.

“Don’t look. He’s stitching it now. Keep your eyes on me, okay?”

Another wave of pain has you fighting back a sob, barely able to keep it down. You instinctively go to look again, but Kid keeps your head from turning with a steady hand cupping the side of your face.

“Look at me, Y/n. There you go. Just hold on a bit longer.”

You try to do as he says, focusing on his eyes rather than the current torture, but it’s impossible. “Hurts so bad,” you whimper.

“I know,” Kid says softly. “We’re right here.”

The curved needle hooking through your skin isn’t the problem, nor is the nauseating sensation of the sutures sliding through the layers of flesh. Both, while admittedly sucking hard, are tolerable. The problem is that even as careful as he is, the doctor is still moving your arm with every stitch.

“Almost done,” Killer says, “almost done. You’re doing great.”

Am I really? you want to ask, but you’re currently unable to form anything more coherent than groans and curses.

The final trial is the splint, more unbearable movement to your arm that has you gripping the edge of the exam table so hard your knuckles turn white. Killer takes notice, peeling your hand from the table to hold in his, instead. Despite his hand being twice the size of yours, you’re pretty sure you crush it with the strength of your grip, but he doesn’t complain.

“I’ll apply a proper cast once the swelling goes down,” the doctor says once he’s finally, finally fucking done. “Rest in one of the patient beds and keep your arm above your heart as much as possible. You’re to sleep here until further notice.”

You’re helped into one of the beds, and once the doctor’s applied ice packs to your injury, Kid dismisses him. The three of you are left alone, Kid and Killer pulling up chairs next to the bed. Lying back, you stare blankly at the ceiling, catching your breath, humbled and terrified at the human body’s ability to feel such all-consuming anguish. Adrenaline still courses through your veins, making you jittery and hyper-aware, and you’re sweating, but at least the pain in your arm has simmered down to a dull, throbbing ache. While it still feels like the bones are screaming at you, you can endure it quietly, though it does make your eyes water. 

With the diminishing of the pain comes just enough clarity for you to feel utterly and totally disgraceful. You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone on the crew scream like you had, and plenty of them had endured their fair share of awful injuries. So why couldn’t you handle it better? How could you call yourself a pirate after such a display? All of that, and still visibly on the verge of tears now that it was over? You’d be more embarrassed about crying in front of them if you hadn’t just spent the enitre past fifteen minutes acting like a complete bitch.

Kid may have said you couldn’t blame your words on a head injury, but you think the pain alone is enough to make you loopy, because you find yourself laughing shortly at the thought. It’s more of a huff and a grin, really–anything more would jostle your arm.

“Y/n?” Kid asks, concerned.

“It’s just,” you glance at him, then back at the ceiling, smiling ruefully. “I wanted to be tough, if you can believe that. But I couldn’t manage it… Pitiful, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Kid scowls. “That pirate broke your arm and you still killed him.”

“Only because I didn’t feel it right away. It doesn’t count. When push came to shove, I couldn’t handle it at all. I’m a Kid Pirate–I should be tougher. And yet, I…” You blink, and the tears gathered at the corners of your eyes break free, running down your temples. “I didn’t have it in me.”

“Y/n…?”

You look between Kid and Killer. Kid’s worry is evident behind the tension in his face, and while Killer’s expression is hidden, there’s nothing in his body language to suggest he’s upset with you. Your smile wavers, chest getting tight. The next wave of tears has nothing to do with pain.

“Aren’t you ashamed of me?” Your voice cracks, as if you couldn’t be any more pathetic.

“Don’t,” Kid says stiffly. “Don’t do the self-pity thing now. It doesn’t suit you.”

“But I–”

“Look,” Killer says, “everyone’s different, with different tolerances for pain. You don’t need to be unfeeling to be a capable fighter.”

Easy for him to say–Killer had the highest pain tolerance in the crew. Still, you don’t miss the compliment, mentally clinging to it like it could redeem you.

“You think I’m a capable fighter?” you ask, voice small.

“I invited you onto my crew for a reason, okay?” Kid says. “I saw potential. I still see it. You’ve gotten stronger since we first met.” Kid looks away. “...I haven’t once regretted my decision.”

“Oh…” Self-doubt tells you that Kid’s just saying those things to make you feel better, but experience has you discarding the thought. You know him better than that. Kid has always meant what he said, he wouldn’t make such claims lightly. The words are real and sincere, threatening to make you cry harder, but you force it down. He’s never liked dealing with tears.

Kid won’t meet your eye. From your angle on the bed, you can see a blush spread across his cheeks, darker than before. Maybe that’s why he makes to leave, pushing his chair back and getting up, Killer following suit. Or maybe he just means to check on the crew. Regardless, a surge of objection rises in your chest, every bit as selfish and puerile as a child protesting their parents leaving them in daycare.

“You’re going?” you ask before you can stop yourself.

They pause, Kid turning back to you. “Do you want us to stay?”

You don’t look at him when you nod shallowly, ashamed. But you don’t want to hurt alone. Rationally, you know you’re going to be in pain for a long while, and they can’t be at your side the whole time. Still, if they’ll let you, then you’ll be self-centered for just a bit longer.

Kid and Killer sit back down.

“Thanks,” you say quietly. Then, even quieter, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t fucking apologize,” Kid grumbles. “I told you to knock that shit off.”

You swallow a lump in your throat. He could be so rough about it, but there was genuine care behind his refusing to let you wallow in self-pity.

Killer takes your hand. “Is this the first time you’ve been injured like this?” he asks.

You nod.

“Listen... Sometimes, when you’re hurt bad enough physically, it messes with your head, too,” Killer says. “You feel vulnerable and insecure. Helpless, even. So,” he squeezes your hand lightly, “it’s okay if you’re more sensitive than you normally would be. No one's going to hold it against you. You came out of the battle alive. That’s what matters.”

Damn him and his tenderness, you’re trying not to cry. You pull your hand away, lower lip wobbling, and take a shaky breath, holding it down. You glance at Kid. He’s staring hard at your broken arm. Suddenly his ire stops being transparent–just like when you first joined the crew, you’re completely unable to discern what he’s really thinking. All you see is the discontent, so close to disapproval that it makes you uncertain.

“Are you, um,” you say nervously, “are you mad at me?”

“No,” Kid says, but it comes out a bit stiff. “At least, not for the reason you think. I’m proud of you for taking out that pirate. He was twice your size and faster, but you still won.” He taps his nails against his metal hand. “Y/n… When Hip said you were really hurt, I feared the worst. I thought you’d been fatally injured.”

“Can’t get rid of me that easily,” you joke.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kid snaps, glaring. He’s gritting his teeth, eyes hard and angry, but then there’s a break, a crack in his expression. It’s just a glimpse, but for the first time, you see fear behind the fury. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again. Got it? Or I’ll break your other arm.”

Despite the harsh words, emotion swells in your chest, fuzzy and light. You feel yourself tearing up again. “Yes, captain.”

“You’re a real pain in my ass, you know that?”

You smile slightly. “Yes, captain.”

Kid leans back in his chair, arms crossed, scowl etched deep. You watch as Killer touches Kid’s arm briefly, reassuring. With the worst of the pain behind you comes the presence of mind to start overthinking, and you dive right in: They have each other. It’s clear that they care about you, but it will never be in the way you want. 

The ache in your arm seems fitting, a backdrop of physical pain behind the emotional. Liking Kid is stressful enough, but now that you were aware of your feelings for Killer, it was compounded, growing like a chemical reaction into something huge and overwhelming. As a trusted crewmate, you pretty much have front row seats to the small intimacies those two exchange. How are you supposed to go on watching and not be eaten alive by jealousy? 

Maybe you should leave. Maybe this was your sign that the good times had run out, and it was time to strike it out solo again. You don’t want to go–crushes aside, you were fond of the crew, having come to see them as family–but could you handle living with Kid and Killer now? The unrequited desire was already burrowing under your skin like a grass seed, threatening to travel and lodge deep into your heart. Cutting ties now would spare you more hurt in the long run.

But first you had to heal from this injury, something better done with the security of a crew protecting you.

Then, unprompted, Killer reaches over to wipe the sweat from your forehead, and you start reconsidering even that notion. If they were going to be gentle the entire recovery period, you were really gonna lose it. The compassion was too close to intimacy, a taste of what you couldn’t have. 

"The next few months are gonna blow," you say, the true meaning of the statement masked.

"Just wait until it starts itching under the cast," Killer says lightly.

"Ugh. And I'll hardly be able to move." You grimace. "I'll need help even with basic tasks… You're right, Killer, it does feel helpless."

"It'll be fine," Kid says. "You have us and the crew." 

He's still frowning, but you can read him again. Not that you need to with the frankness of his words.

"At least there's a bright side," you smile impishly, "if you're gonna be soft this whole time."

"Watch it," Kid warns, but his lip curls up just a bit. "Don't get used to it."

Too bad for him, you fully intend to abuse your power. It’ll be interesting to see how much you can get away with, and you might as well have some kind of outlet for these awful feelings in the meantime.

“Nah, I’m gonna enjoy it while I can,” you say, “because it’s not gonna happen another time. I’m gonna get even stronger, so I’ll never go through that again.” You wipe away the gathered tears with the back of your hand. “I’m gonna surpass even the shave technique. I’ll be uncatchable.”

Kid and Killer exchange glances–an impressive feat considering Killer’s mask, but that’s just the kind of wavelength they’re on–and then they look at you, Kid wearing one of his rare serious expressions. “I know the last half hour was rough, Y/n. But you won’t get any better as a fighter if fear is your motivator.”

That makes you pout, mostly because you know he’s right. Arguing that it had worked out for this long was pointless, because it really hadn’t. You only survived the fight with Kid years ago because of his whims, and today’s battle had ended in agony. You wouldn’t be forgetting it anytime soon, but maybe that was better. Maybe a reminder that you weren’t invulnerable was what you needed. So long as you didn’t succumb to fear, like Kid said.

“I guess it wasn’t entirely miserable,” you muse, thinking back to how Kid carried you to the ship. That was a lie–you were hurting far too badly to enjoy the contact–but the thought that it happened still made you kind of happy, in a messed up way. Maybe you were more touch-starved than you thought. “I got to be held. Can’t remember the last time I was that close to someone.”

Kid looks surprised, and then his expression slowly morphs into something smug, an arrogant smirk plastered on his face. “If you wanted to be close to me, Y/n, you could have just asked.”

Your cheeks instantly flare hot, caught so off-guard all you can do is stare in dumb shock before you turn your head away. What the hell was he doing? Why would he say that? Now there was an ache in your chest as well as your arm.

“Is that what this was all about?” Kid continues gleefully. “Did you let yourself get hurt so your captain would come take care of you?”

No, no, no. Don’t do this to me. Regardless of what he meant by the teasing, it felt like a weight was sitting over your sternum. And really, he was such a fucking jerk, taking obvious pleasure in your flustered response. Honestly, why did you even like him?

“We’re right here.”

Your brain plays the memory back like a traitor, impressing the reason. Why did he have to be so damned nice to you? Why couldn’t he have been cold or stern or even harsh, like usual? This would have been so much easier if he just told you off for screaming, or called you a pussy or something, but no. He had to hold you and reassure you and now you didn’t know what to do.

“Stop it,” you say, but it comes out small and feeble. This was all too much, especially now. Killer had a point–you were in a delicate way mentally. The walls weren’t up, you couldn’t buffer any of these feelings. “Talk to me like that and I’ll leave.”

Kid pauses. “What do you mean, you’ll leave?”

“I’ll leave the crew.”

“What?!” Kid grabs the arms of his chair, leaning forward like he didn’t hear you right the first time.

“Slip?” Killer questions.

You avoid their eyes. “I can’t–I can’t do this. I can’t be around you if you’re going to be like… like that.”

“The hell are you talking about?” Kid demands.

“Slip, what’s wrong?” Killer asks. “Was it something we said?”

“No! I mean, yes!” you say, tugging at your hair with your good hand. “I mean… I…”

“Where’s this coming from all of a sudden?” Kid says hotly. “What the hell is your problem?” 

“I’m in love with you!” you shout. “That’s my fucking problem, Kid!”

Oops. Well. It was out now. Might as well go all-in. You cover your face as you add, “Killer, too. I love you both. I’m sorry.”

The shame settles like rot in your stomach, as nauseating as the physical pain was. There was no taking it back now. You expect shocked silence, or even Kid getting angry. 

What you don’t expect is Kid, as casually as if discussing the weather, responding, “Oh. Yeah, I know.”

It takes a minute to process what he said, mentally flipping the words over in an attempt to parse them. Your hand slowly drops from your face, and you fix him with a look that manages to be both pointed and baffled. “...What?”

“I already knew that,” Kid clarifies.

You stare a hole through him. “...What?”

“What exactly are you not getting? I’m telling you I already knew.”

“Fucking excuse me?!” It finally processes, crashing over you like a boiling wave, drenching and searing all at once. “Since when?!”

“Since we met, you idiot.”

Your jaw drops. He had known all this time? For three fucking years? He knew?

“You’re not a subtle person, Y/n,” Kid says, then grins. “You got really, really worked up when I caught you that one time. It wasn’t hard to figure out.”

“You knew?” You look between him and Killer, at a loss. “The entire time?”

“Y/n, the whole crew knows.”

“What?!” You sit up so quickly it jostles your injury, sending a hellish jolt of pain through your arm that makes you hiss.

“Easy,” Killer says, gently pushing your good shoulder to prompt you to lay back.

“Don’t tell me to take it easy!” you snap, but acquiesce, letting him push you back. “What the hell do you mean, you knew… The crew knows… Oh my god…”

“There, there,” Killer says, but you can hear the amusement in his voice.

“Anyway,” Kid says nonchalantly, “you don’t have permission to leave.”

Ordinarily, you would say 'I wasn't aware I needed it,' but you're currently too stunned to reply. All this time. And the crew knows.

What are you to make of that? Kid doesn’t look upset. Killer doesn’t sound upset. They’re fine with your crush? Did such things really not bother them, or did they… No. There was no way. You can't wrap your head around the implications. There was no way. Right? Because if they liked you back, wouldn’t they have said something by now? 

You have to find out. Living on this ship with that hanging over you is beyond what you can handle. And with months of recovery ahead of you, now would be as good a time as any to shoot your shot.

But you only get out "Do you–" before your voice catches, the query dying in your throat. You can't say it, can't bring yourself to ask. Something in your head is as broken as your arm, refusing to form the words. 

Kid and Killer are listening, waiting for you to continue, but you shake your head. “Never mind.” 

The answer to that question would hurt, and you’ve had enough of that for a good, long while. But without it comes the uncertainty, which almost feels worse. Unable to reconcile how you feel and exhausted from the aftermath of the adrenaline, you find you just want to be close to them again. Maybe you’re too much of a coward to ask the crucial question. But you aren’t above taking advantage of your current state to seek out a bit of comfort.

"Back when I was a kid," you say, "and I had to go to the doctor, my guardian would take me to get a treat afterwards. Like ice cream or something."

"Yeah?" Kid says, grinning wide. "Is there something you want from me? What could it possibly be, I wonder?"

Suddenly you're tongue-tied. You didn’t expect him to cotton on so fast, but underestimating Kid was why you had lost to him in the first place three years ago.

When you don't respond, Kid rests his chin on his metal hand, having the gall to look even more smug. "You need to say it out loud, Y/n."

Fucking jerk. Fine. "Um…" you start, fresh heat warming your face, "well, uh… Can I have, uh… A hug…?"

Kid looks surprised at that for some reason, raising a brow. What was he expecting? Still, he rises from his seat, and you sit up in anticipation. This was enough for now. Just to be held, one more time. You could figure out the rest later.

“That’s really all you want?” Kid says, looking at you like he can’t figure you out. He leans over you, towering, your height difference exacerbated with you being seated. “A hug?”

“...Yeah?” you respond hesitantly, unsure of what he means by the question.

Kid regards you for a moment, searching your eyes. Then he smirks. “I’ll do you one better.”

Before you can register the meaning of his words, Kid tilts your chin up, leans in, and presses his lips to yours in a firm and intent kiss.

Suffice to say, your brain promptly short-circuits. For a moment, not a single neuron fires. Then there’s a storm of activity, a thousand different thoughts and feelings screaming all at once. At the same time, a soft sort of tingling spreads throughout your whole body, fluttering and warm, so pleasant that you could cry. And, for just a second, like something out of a fairy tale, you don’t feel any of the pain in your arm. (You can never, ever tell this to Kid–he will hold it over your head for the rest of your life.)

While you’re too shocked to reciprocate, once Kid pulls away, you find yourself leaning forward, chasing the contact. He notices, if his widening smirk is any indication.

“Better than a hug, right?” he says, self-satisfied.

“Um,” you respond cleverly, still bewildered by the action. “Uh… Kid? Do you… Do you like me?”

Kid pinches the bridge of his nose. “Y/n, I literally just kissed you. What the fuck do you think?”

“Wait, shut up. Hold on. Wait.” The fact that Kid doesn’t react to your telling him to shut up is a testament to his going easy on you, and you make a mental note of it for later. “If you liked me back, why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“What are you talking about? I’ve been flirting with you for years!”

Your eyes bug out at him. “You have?”

“For someone who thinks so quickly in battle, it’s amazing how slow you are on the uptake,” Kid says, exasperated. You frown, because rude, but he keeps going. “At first, when you didn’t respond, I thought you weren’t interested. But the way you acted around me and Killer proved otherwise. It was confusing as hell! Then, a few weeks ago, the crew was at a tavern, and you were approached by that bounty hunter–you remember?”

“Yeah… What about him?”

“He started flirting real heavy, and it all went right over your head. It was incredible to watch. I realized then that you weren’t sending me mixed signals on purpose, but that you were really just that fucking oblivious.”

You blink. “He was flirting with me?”

“He bought you a drink!” Kid shouts, throwing his arms out in frustration and nearly knocking over another bed with his metal one. Killer covers his mask over where his mouth would be, as if that would help him suppress a laugh.

“I thought he was trying to sucker me out of information.”

“He was trying to sucker you out of your clothes.”

“Oh… So that’s why you nearly killed him.”

You stare down at your lap as you try to process all the new information. Kid liked you back. Not only that, but he had been attempting to show it pretty much since the beginning. You knew you were bad with feelings, but the fact that it took a severe injury for this to come to light was maybe a little concerning. And what about Killer? He wasn’t nearly as open as Kid, so even if he had been showing similar signs, you would have never picked up on it.

“Does, uh,” you say, looking up at them, “does Killer also…?”

“Yeah,” Kid says, “Killer too, though he never flirted with you over it.”

“I kind of did,” Killer speaks up, “here and there, but I stopped when it seemed like you weren’t into it.”

You think back, trying to recall any times where that might have happened. While Killer seemed outwardly stoic, he was surprisingly affable toward crewmates, so you never thought twice about any lingering touches or supportive words coming from him.

“Um… Wow. I’m sorry,” you say, “I didn’t mean to be confusing. I guess I just never thought it was possible that anyone would like me that way.”

“Why would you think that?” Killer sounds genuinely confused, and you tense, the question dredging up a host of bad memories. That was one traumatic can of worms you didn’t need to open, so you just shrug it off. 

“Uh, no reason…”

“You’ve never been in a relationship?” Kid asks.

“Not really,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck. All of this was new territory, the revelation that they were both interested leaving you stumped. “...What do I even do now?”

“Whatever you want.”

You stare at Kid, then glance away, cheeks growing warm in embarrassment before you even say it. “...I want you to kiss me again.”

“You really think you deserve it after all that you’ve put us through?” Kid grins, but despite what he says, he leans right back in to grant your wish.

The second kiss is softer, even tender. Your eyes close as you cup his cheek, and his hand covers yours. That fluttering sensation returns, prickling across your skin like you’ve sunk into a warm bath, enveloping and soothing.

When Kid breaks free this time, you can’t help but look at Killer afterwards, the longing in your expression making your thoughts evident.

“What, I’m not good enough for you?” Kid accuses, but you can tell he’s teasing.

“No,” you say brightly, safe in the knowledge that he won’t retaliate while you’re injured. Or so you thought–Kid pinches your cheek (with his flesh hand, at least,) harder and harder until you apologize. You rub your sore cheek, pouting. “I swear I’m not complaining or anything, but, uh… You don’t want to, Killer?”

Killer turns his head away, quiet for a moment. “...I will… Once you’ve recovered, and the cast comes off.” He looks your way again. “So you have the motivation to heal quickly.”

Later on, when you’ve gotten to know him more intimately, you’ll look back and realize that the ‘motivation’ line was complete bullshit, and that he was just covering up his shyness. But right then, you accept him at his word, though you’re a bit disappointed.

“Sure. Okay.” You lay back in the bed, a smile slowly stretching your lips. “I can live with that.”

Today was a one-two punch in staggering experiences. First you went through the worst physical pain you’d felt yet, then Kid revealed that he and Killer both liked you back. You were ecstatic, of course–but the fact that you never had to go through breaking your arm to learn of it made you more than a little mad at yourself.

“We can talk about all this later,” Kid says. “You need to rest.”

“Yes, sir.”

Kid looks at you sharply, and you get a funny feeling in your gut. Did… Did he like that? What a stuck-up asshole. God, you love him. Which is why you’re going to use that against him later.

“Try and get some sleep, if you can. The next island we’re stopping at has a pharmacy. Once we raid it and restock our medical supplies, you won’t be hurting so much, so just hang on until then. Okay?” Kid touches your cheek.

“Okay,” you reply, trying not to show how giddy the simple action makes you.

But given that he knew of your attraction all this time, he can probably tell anyway.

“I can’t believe you didn’t say anything!” You glare at the crewmates sitting around your bed. The doctor will only let a few people in to see you at a time, so right now, it’s just Heat, Wire, and Quincy, the latter currently signing your cast. “Some nakama you are! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It would have interfered with the betting pool,” Wire says. 

“Betting pool?!”

“After a while,” Heat adds, “it just became kind of a social experiment.”

“Betting pool?!” you reiterate.

“Relax,” Quincy says, capping the marker. “If you get worked up, the doc will kick us out.”

“Fine.” You scowl, but relent, shoulders drooping.

“So how’d it go down?” Heat asks. “Did you tell Kid first, or did he tell you?”

“I said it first.”

“Damn,” Wire mutters, fishing a thick wad of cash out of his pocket and passing it to Heat.

Your eyes widen at the blatant exchange. “I will fucking strangle you both!”

“With one hand?” Wire asks, and the three of them burst into laughter.

You throw your medicine bottle at his head.

After months of waiting, you’re eager to finally have the cast off, but a part of you will miss looking at everyone’s signatures. Heat even drew the crew’s jolly roger on it.

“Some pain and stiffness afterwards is normal. Your range of motion will be limited. After months of being immobile, the muscles are weakened,” the doctor explains. “You are to wait one week before any exercise or heavy physical activity with that arm. Understand?”

The moment the cast is removed and the doctor releases you, you go find Killer on the ship.

“Hey, Killer!” You wave at him with your newly-healed arm, though you find the action is more difficult than you expected, just like the doctor said. “Cast is off, big guy. Time to pay up.”

When Killer doesn’t respond right away, you think maybe he’s forgotten what he said months ago. He looks around at the other crewmates on deck, then takes your hand and wordlessly leads you elsewhere.

“Killer?” you ask as you follow, but he remains silent.

Killer takes you all the way to the captain’s cabin, closing the door behind the both of you. Kid is currently there, sitting at his desk and looking over a map, head turning to you as soon as you enter.

“Everything okay?” Kid asks, then, noticing your cast is off, he smirks. “Oh, I see. Went for it first thing, huh, Y/n? You must have really been looking forward to it.”

“Shut up, Kid!” you say, face growing hot.

Kid rises from his seat, coming to stand behind you, and rests his flesh hand on your shoulder, squeezing in threat. “Careful, Y/n. You don’t have that injury to protect you anymore.”

Despite the warning, something about the way he says it, voice low and smooth, makes your stomach knot.

“Alright, alright, fine. Yes, I’ve been looking forward to it, okay? I’ve been thinking about it every day since,” you admit, swallowing. “But, Killer, you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Killer is silent once more. You scan him anxiously, trying to get a read on his body language. He seems tense, so it takes you by surprise when he quietly says, “I want to.”

“Oh.”

Killer steps closer, right in front of you, so you’re sandwiched between the captain and first mate. Belatedly, you realize he’ll have to take off his mask, which you didn’t think about before. You’re not sure that even Heat or Wire have seen him without it, and you’re suddenly nervous that you’re violating some boundary by asking him to kiss you.

Then, Kid moves his hand from your shoulder to your face, covering your eyes from behind. You hear a faint noise like rustling hair that must be Killer removing his mask. Unable to see, you can only wait, heart pounding. It feels like forever before you feel his breath on your face, not making contact yet–he’s hesitating. And then, finally, after months of patience, he closes the gap, soft lips capturing your own.

Just like that, all your nerves melt away, fading behind the static that seems to spark through your body. You reach out for Killer blindly, hands landing in his hair before they slide down to hold his face, pulling as if you could draw him even closer. He sighs into your mouth in response, making your knees grow weak.

After far too short a time, Killer pulls away, and your grip on his face tightens in reluctance. 

“Wait, wait,” you mumble, “again. Please, I–”

Your protest is muffled by Killer’s mouth closing over yours again, swallowing your words and your sanity all at once. He’s firmer this time, indelicate and needy, large hands grabbing hold of your waist. The little whine that slips out of you is involuntary, and you hear Kid chuckle behind you.

Eventually, Killer breaks away, leaving the both of you stunned and flushed with endorphins.

“You have no idea, Y/n,” Kid whispers into your ear, raising goosebumps on the back of your neck. “How much he’s talked about this.”

“Like you haven’t been talking about them?” Killer says defensively. “The sheer amount of grievances I’ve had to listen to the last few years… Where do I even begin? First, there was–”

“Okay!” Kid cuts him off, uncharacteristically flustered. “I get it.”

You snicker, and Kid immediately wraps his metal hand around your hip, gripping just tightly enough so as not to be painful, but still securely enough so that you’re trapped in place. It’s huge in comparison to you, the pinky sinking into your thigh while the index presses into your stomach. You gasp, going rigid, the position intimately familiar–this was the exact way that Kid had caught you three years ago.

“You know, Y/n,” Kid says, his tone soft with warning, “you’ve been a real piece of work these last few months. Smart-mouthed. Insolent. Talking back to me. Thinking you were so safe because of your injury.” He’s speaking into your ear again, breath hot on your skin, and your heart starts to race. “I hope you enjoyed it while it lasted, Y/n, because I’ve been keeping track. Every comment, every cheeky little quip, I committed to memory, waiting for this moment. I think it’s time I paid it back. Wouldn’t you agree, Killer?”

“Definitely,” Killer responds without hesitation.

Heat courses through your body, collecting at the apex of your thighs. Still blinded by Kid, you can’t see Killer move, but you feel his rough fingers tracing your throat a moment later.

The third time around, you are perfectly okay with not having lived up to your epithet.