#and then i will come home and open up the notes app i made two (?) years ago that says ‘if tyler bertuzzi ever gets traded it’s-’

[crossbackpoke-check]

do u ever speak too soon & immediately regret it.

[moon-rivr]

I need a fic about Miguel lusting after nurse fem!reader! I imagine he got hurt around her apartment and being that he is Spider-Man and she is a nurse she decides to take him into her apartment and fix him up. She is so caring and kind to he and this starts to become a thing where spider-man gets her to heal him.

So Miguel never reveals his identity to her but he’s like falling hard for her. Like thinking about her all the time (especially when he is in the shower lol). Let’s say one day he’s feeling like a little under the weather so he decides to go to where she works to get a check up and medicine (and hopefully to see her outside of his costume for once) so when he finally sees her he’s trying to charm her flirt a bit like he does when he’s behind the mask, but she is not having it. She acts cold and disinterested because one, guys flirt with nurses all the time and two, she has feelings for spider-man. Then you can do what you want with the ending but I would like if they get together in the end maybe you can squeeze some NSFW in there. Honestly this might make a pretty cute series!

little nurse

pairing: miguel o’hara x nurse fem reader

contents: mentions of blood/injuries and masturbation (m)

author’s note: decided to split this up into two parts, i hope you don’t mind :) very limited medical knowledge btw (one szn of grey’s anatomy and dr mike accounting for that 😖)

word count: 4.1K

Miguel O'Hara appeared in your life out of thin air. Literally.

You were trudging home from work around eleven at night, your scrubs smelling like disinfectant and dark circles adorning your under eyes. You'd been looking forward to taking a shower and getting as much sleep as you could before your next shift, your plans completely shifting when someone dropped in front of you. A masked man landed in front of you, clad in a Spider-Man costume. The sleep that you were longing for quickly faded away, replaced by a feeling of concern as you kneeled over to see if he had fractured his spine or his head with the fall. "How many fingers am I holding up?" You asked, holding up three as you waited for some kind of assurance that he was awake.

After receiving no response from the man, you dragged him into your apartment to work on him inside. You were grateful to whatever entity there was above that you lived in a downstairs apartment, the task of taking the man inside proving more difficult than you'd originally thought. You let out a small huff as you dragged him onto the rug in the center of your living room, shutting the door afterwards. You looked down at the man, almost tempted to take off the mask and reveal who was underneath the Spider-Man mask. After more careful consideration, you decided that it probably wasn't the best idea while he was in such a vulnerable position and grabbed your phone from your purse.

You'd gotten some old blouses that you were planning on throwing away, using them as a tourniquet around his stomach to stop the bleeding. You pressed two fingers to his neck to try to feel for a pulse, a bit slow but at a steady rhythm. After making sure his heartbeat was stable, you pressed your head down to your chest to listen for his breathing, the sound coming out ragged. "Stay with me, please," you silently whispered as your bloody fingers typed away at your phone screen, opening up the phone app. You'd finished up typing up the final one of the emergency number, a large gloved hand stopping you from answering the dispatcher on the other line.

"No, no. Please don't do that," the masked man underneath you pleaded as he slowly started to regain consciousness. You were made aware that not only would he run the risk of getting his identity exposed, but he'd also run the risk of having the nypd arrest him for the crimes he's committed as a vigilante. "Now do you understand why I can't go to the hospital?" He asked, almost like he wanted to make sure what stood at stake for him. "Okay, I'll trust you for now. But if you start bleeding out in my living room, then I'll take you to the hospital. Does that sound good?" You answered reluctantly, watching as he nodded.

You grabbed some gloves from one of your kitchen drawers, kneeling down next to him as you reached for the zipper on the back. "Do you mind if I take this off?" You asked, wanting to get his approval before you got started on anything. "Whatever you need to do to me, doc," he answered, sitting a bit up so you could reach the zipper better. You zipped down his suit, pulling it off his arms and sliding it down to his stomach. "How's your head? You hit it pretty hard when you fell," you asked him, wanting to get a better assessment of how his health was. You felt around his stomach, trying to find if there was any internal bleeding but you knew that the results would be more accurate with a CT scan.

"My head's fine, just a bit of blindness in my right eye," he deadpanned, your eyebrows practically shooting up to your hairline as you turned to look at him. "I'm joking, doc. I'm all good," he added, a small chuckle following after. "I'd smack you if your ribs weren't probably broken right now," you muttered, getting up from the floor to grab a suture kit from your bedroom. Only the sounds of his breathing could be heard as you worked on the large gashes covering most of his abdominal region, steady fingers working the needle through the thread to stop any further bleeding. You wiped away at some of the dried blood, cleaning him up to the best of your ability before pressing your hands down on his stomach to see if he had any further pain.

"I don't have any strong meds at my house, I only have Tylenol so I hope that works for you," you announced as you looked over at your medicine cabinet, surprisingly empty for the line of work that you'd chosen. "Give me the prognosis, doc. How long do I have to live?" he asked as you handed him the bottle of pills with a glass of a water. "I'm not a doctor, just a nurse. And I'd say a couple more minutes, if you're lucky. Might last longer if you don't annoy me as much," you teased him back, grabbing a couple bandages to finish up with the job. You wrapped them around the places where you placed the stitches, making him a little first aid kit just in case he'd need it. "If your stitches pop out or anything, just come back here. You know where I live."

He pulled the zipper back on, grabbing the first aid kit from you before he headed towards the door. "I'll see you next time I get hurt, little nurse," he told you, making it seem more like a promise than a goodbye. "Try not to make this a daily thing, please," you responded before he had the chance to leave, the eyes of his mask slightly raising. "I can't make any promises, lindura," he swung away after he finished speaking, sticking to the building in front of your apartment complex. You couldn't help but look out at him as he left, watching the way that he maneuvered the webs to the best of his ability despite the injuries that he'd sustained.

Miguel continued to seek you out as his nurse every time that he got hurt after that, enjoying the small banter and jokes between the two of you. Getting to be around you once more felt like the highlight of every fight that he got into, the assurance that you would be there to patch him up giving him the motivation that he needed to get up and fight crime. Despite the small jabs that you took at him, you proved to care about him time and time again with each wound that you treated. You never asked him any questions about his identity, never made him out to be anything bigger than what he had to be. Despite the fact that he wore the mask around you, he'd never felt more exposed around a human being in his life before.

Miguel found himself to be distracted by the thought of just seeing you again, constantly. He found himself wanting to get hurt just so he'd have an excuse to need your assistance, to have your soft hands running across his flesh as you stitched him up. His attention wasn't diverted only when he was dressed up as Spider-Man, the affection that he held towards you following him all the way to the lab he worked at. He'd mixed up two chemicals that he shouldn't have, causing a negative reaction in one of the rats that he was testing on and having to discard his experiment completely. "Focus, O'Hara. We're not here to pick up after your messes," his co-worker and superior, Aaron Delgato, told him during lunchtime with that same stupid smug expression he always carried on his face.

Normally, Miguel would've had something to respond back with but he couldn't find it in him to care that much at the moment. "Yeah, yeah," he ended up muttering back, pushing away his concerns as he sipped at the bitter coffee from the cafeteria. Normally the bitter taste of the coffee would've made him spit out the substance, the taste becoming slightly better when you were at the forefront of his mind. Instead of throwing it away after the first sip, he ended up taking a couple more sips before throwing it away in the sink. He spent the day at work focusing on his reports, having to stay a bit later to make up for the work that he'd messed up earlier just so he wouldn't have to deal with Aaron's condescending comments and stupid smirk as he questioned Miguel's ability to work the job he did.

He got home at around 6:30, two hours after his shift ended. The sound of door closing echoed throughout the empty halls of his home, the environment completely devoid of anything homely apart from a couple pictures and a bookshelf full of scientific journals that he'd enjoyed. He stripped away from his clothes once he got into his bedroom, wanting to remove himself from the lab as much as possible. He got into the shower before he had to head out for his vigilante duties, knowing that he knew would be too tired to do so when he got back home. The cold stream of water hit his muscles as he stood underneath, putting his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall. He felt depraved as he thought about you while he stood here, feeling himself grow more and more ashamed as he resisted the urge to wrap his hand around his cock.

Eventually, he ended up giving into his desires and wrapped his fingers tightly around his cock. He closed his eyes to help him envision a scenario with you, his mind running through with images of you underneath him. His grip on his cock tightened, wanting to replicate the feeling of what your cunt would feel like. He smeared some of the precum leaking out of his tip all around his shaft with his thumb, letting out a small hiss as he felt himself growing more aroused with every second that passed. He started off slow, wanting to prolong this orgasm as much as possible.

He pictured you starting off by sticking your tongue out for him as you sat on your knees underneath him, doe eyes looking at him expectantly as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. Your mouth would engulf around the tip of his cock, swirling your tongue around it to capture every drop of precum that leaked out. His thumb ran around his tip to simulate every aspect of his scenario, precum sticking to his fingers as he did. He couldn't help but think about how beautiful you would look as you struggled to adjust to the feeling of his cock around your mouth, tears threatening to leak through as you fought off the urge to gag. "Oh shock, keep going," he moaned out, almost feeling like you were in the room with him.

His hand moved faster around his cock, fingers wrapped tightly around his shaft as he tried to get himself off. His eyes remained closed as the cold water ran through his body, his mind still continuing with the scenario from earlier. He felt his cock twitch in his hand, picturing how you would look with ropes of cum splattered onto your face. His release was more uneventful than he'd expected it to be, hit with the clarity of the situation immediately as the water washed the sticky substance from his hands. His forehead remained pressed against the shower wall, wanting to eliminate every negative thought that he'd been presented with. He felt perverted for taking advantage of you in this way, of taking advantage of the way that you were just so ready to help him out, but he couldn't help but feel his desire for you grow even more with every smile that you gave him.

He got out of the shower a couple minutes later, taking a few moments to reflect on what he'd done before finishing up with the rest of his shower routine. "Did you finish making the final adjustments to my suit?" He asked as his hologram assistant appeared next to him, a towel wrapped around his waist as he walked to the closet. "I did. You should find the material to be a bit more durable than the one that you previously used. Though the news reports show that it's going to be close to freezing so I would recommend for you to stay home," LYLA responded, before giving him the detailed report of what she'd done to his suit. "Crime doesn't stop just because it's a little cold. I'm sure I'll be fine," he muttered, grabbing the suit hanging up on the back of his closet.

Miguel shivered as he sat on top of a rooftop, overlooking the city as he waited for something to happen. He would have to make a mental note to add some insulation to the redesign of his suit, finding every minute outside to be excruciating. He removed the bottom part of his mask, blowing onto his bare hands as he rubbed them together. His feet swung on the edge of the building, ears perked up as he tried to listen in on conversations to discern whether anybody actually needed his help tonight. He was about to leave for the night around 30 minutes later, his plans getting stopped when he heard a lady scream across the street.

Miguel handed the purse back to the lady who was getting robbed, fighting the thugs that had tried to rob her proving to be the most exciting thing that happened all night. "Thank you Spider-Man!" The woman called out as he swung away, receiving a curt nod in response before he swung away. He ended up having to fight a couple low-grade robbers and car-jackers, nothing too big for the night. He got back home after finishing up the mundane tasks, feeling himself shivering even as he was welcomed by the warmth of the fireplace in his living room. LYLA had already started with her remarks about how he probably ended doing himself more harm than good, getting shut off two minutes into her monologue. He stripped off his clothing, sitting down on his couch with his legs spread out as he tried to warm up.

Miguel let out a groggy moan as he got up to the sound of his alarm, rubbing his hand across his temples as he laid on the couch. He could hardly get up to go to the bathroom, finding himself unable to head into work today. "I need to call in sick today," Miguel mumbled into the phone, knowing that Aaron was probably rejoicing at his weakened state. "You already messed up the experiment and now you want to take the day off? You're really slacking here, O’Hara," aaron remarked with a small 'tsk', speaking just loud enough for anyone to be able to overhear their conversation. "I don’t see why I have to explain myself to you but I'm sick. The experiment's gonna end even more messed up if I do end up showing up," Miguel answered, a small cough coming out of his end almost on cue.

After getting the reluctant approval of Aaron to stay home, miguel made his way to his bedroom and snuggled underneath his blanket. "LYLA, set up an appointment for me tomorrow at the medical center downtown please," he asked his ai assistant, his words coming out raspy and hoarse. "Why would you want me to do that? I can give you a full health assessment and recommend the right types of medicine that you need, Way better than a doctor ever could," she responded, appearing next to him with a face mask and little nurse hat on. "If I wanted you to do that, I would've asked. Just set me the appointment please," he mumbled, reaching over on his bed stand to get a tissue. LYLA was about to protest once more, but decided to go ahead and do the task when she heard Miguel coughing once more.

Miguel spent most of the day in bed, sweating underneath his tiger blanket despite the fact that he felt himself shivering. He found out the hard way that Vaporub did not in fact cure every one of his aches, though his nose wasn't too stuffed up after using it. He got up around 6 pm when he felt his stomach grumble, walking over to the kitchen to make himself something to eat. He turned on the afternoon news, wanting to make sure there wasn't anything too bad threatening the city. He saw that there had been a couple reports of robberies around the city, leaving it up to the police since he wasn't sure how useful he would be with his nose running every minute. He turned off the tv and poured the chicken soup that had been brewing on the oven into plate, sitting down at the dinner table to have something to eat. All he could do for now was simply wait for what the doctor would prescribe him, a part of him hoping that he would be able to see you.

"Miguel O'Hara?" You called out, looking around the sickly people in the waiting room before a tall man stood up. "That's me," he responded, his sinuses clearly stuffed up as he spoke. You led him back into the rooms, walking to the treatment rooms as you looked through the clipboard. "It's been a while since you've been here so i'm gonna go ahead and update your medical file," you informed him, looking back at him as he nodded. You led him to a wall with a measure taped on it, grabbing a pen from one of the pockets of your scrubs. You were about to take his height, noticing that his figure loomed over the measure. Your eyes widened slightly, your mind rubbing through what you could possibly do.

You grabbed an extra measure from a drawer, grabbing a chair nearby before getting up on it to tape it up on the wall. "You could've asked me to do that, y'know? I wouldn't have minded doing a favor for such a pretty nurse," he mused as he looked up at you, his lips immediately pursing together at the dirty look that you shot him. You got off from the chair, looking up at the two measures taped together before counting the extra inches. "Alright, 6'9," you muttered to yourself, writing it down on the clipboard before motioning for him to step on the electronic scale next to the side. You took his weight after the machine stopped counting, writing down the results before leading him to his assigned treatment room.

You washed your hands at the sink, putting on a bit of hand sanitizer before putting on a pair of gloves. "What seems to be the problem?" You asked, wanting to get a synopsis of what he thought was wrong before you made any guesses. "The problem is that you haven't accepted a dinner invitation with me. I'm sure my cold would heal a lot faster if you did, just saying. Trust me, I'm also a doctor," he mused, relishing as you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. While you'd had your fair share of patients flirt with you, having to deal with their advances tested your patience bit by bit. The man in front of you wasn't exactly unattractive, but he didn't make you feel the same excitement that you felt every time that you saw Spider-Man. You folded your arms and looked at him, staying silent until he decided to divulge what had been bothering him.

"My nose's stuffed up, my chest feels like it's full of phloem, and I can't stop coughing up a lung," he responded, allowing you to get a glimpse of what was really bothering him. "It sounds like you just have a cold but I'll get your blood work done just to make sure that I get an accurate result," you told him, grabbing a small needle to prick him. Before he got the chance to tell you that the blood work wouldn't reveal much, you'd already collected the blood in a small tube. "The doctor will be right with you, Mr. O’Hara," he'd heard you say before the door closed, leaving him alone with the knowledge that you didn't feel the same way about him while he was unmasked.

The doctor came in and did what they were supposed to, taking his heartbeat and his temperature. "It seems like you just have a cold, Mr. O’Hara. Take some time to rest at home and don't overexert your body," the doctor had warned him, handing him a small paper with a prescription for what seemed to be cough syrup on it. He took the paper from the doctor, looking over at you with a small smile as you stepped into the room. The doctor handed the chart over to you, giving you a shortened explanation of what the diagnosis had been. You read over his chart, reaffirming what the doctor had already said before you dismissed him.

"I forgot to mention, your blood test came back inconclusive. I'm sure it was just the machine since it said it couldn't really identify you as fully human," you told him before he had the chance to leave, his figure looming over yours as he waited for you to finish speaking. "I hope you get your machine fixed soon. I'm sorry if i did something to damage it. By the way, are you certain that you don't want to say yes to that dinner I mentioned earlier?" He insisted with his previous offer, his hand lingering on the doorknob as he waited for your response. "I'm sure, thank you for the very kind offer," you reaffirmed, stepping out of the room once he'd walked out.

You headed to the back to talk with your friends, seeing Miguel at the hospital's pharmacy to get the cough syrup prescription filled. "I heard you rejected your patient's advances when he asked you out to dinner. This one's pretty cute and rich, so what happened?" Nurse Maya asked you, pretending to sift through some files just in case a doctor passed by. "Girl, you know she's obsessed over that Spider-Man guy. How's it been going treating him for free, anyways?" Your other friend, Nurse Valeria asked, looking up from her computer just to take note of your expression. You hated how easy the news travelled in the hospital, avoiding Miguel’s gaze as you turned to look at your two friends.

"It's been going decent, thank you. And there's nothing new to tell, Spider-Man hasn't been showing up to my house lately. I kinda have missing being his little nurse," you responded, watching as they both rolled your eyes. "Of course you had to go and fall in love with the masked psycho," Maya muttered before the three of you talked about something else. You couldn't help but laugh as Maya went through her recent dating dilemma, blissfully unaware to the fact that someone had been listening to your conversation while they were waiting for their prescription to be filled.

Miguel couldn't help the small smile that crossed his lips as he heard you speak about Spider-Man in the way that you did, speaking about his alter ego like a high school girl with a crush. "Mr. O'Hara?" The pharmacist behind the counter called out for what seemed to be the hundredth time, finally diverging his attention long enough from you to be able to do their job properly. "Thank you," Miguel mumbled awkwardly, the smile on his face quickly fading away as he paid for the cough syrup. He took a small spoonful of it in his car while he waited for the blue light to turn off, silently hoping that it would work and he could get back to fighting crime once more.

Though he felt a little discouraged at the way you'd shut him off with every flirting attempt that he made, he knew that at some level you had to feel some kind of attraction for him. His mind began coursing with different ideas of how to approach this situation, almost jealous of the way that you viewed his alternate ego. He started to wonder what it would be like if he was able to flirt with you the same way that he was able to as Spider-Man, what it would be like to have that confidence without the use of the mask. The way you spoke about him was almost endearing, the way that you described what it felt like to have Spider-Man come for your services and the way that you felt while you stitched him up. All that he knew is that he needed to come up with a solution about how to approach this crush for you and fast.

[puckinghischier]

Boyfriend!Nico Headcanons

these pics are gonna get me everytime, i fear

just some soft nico thoughts floating around in my noggin. enjoy :)

-

- boyfriend!nico coming home from morning skate and tiptoeing into your room, careful not to wake you so he can lay back down and nap with you

- boyfriend!nico waking up about an hour later to an empty bed, huffing because you didn’t wake him up, only for you to walk in the room wearing one of his t-shirts carrying two cups of coffee, a grin breaking out on his face

- boyfriend!nico suggesting you both shower together, even though he showered at the rink, simply because he loves when you wash his hair (and so he can use your products so he can smell fruity like you do)

- boyfriend! nico asking girls that approach him when he’s out with the team or on the road where they get various parts of their outfits/jewelry because he can’t stop thinking about how good you’d look in them, writing every store down in his notes app so he can take you there the next time you two go shopping

- boyfriend!nico who looks for you in the stands of every home game during warm-ups, needing to know you’re there watching before puck drop because he swears you’re his good luck charm, but also looking for any and every reason to impress you when he’s on the ice

- boyfriend!nico who buys you a custom jersey with his name and number on it, but with small four leaf clovers embroidered on each sleeve so everyone knows you’re his good luck charm, not the team’s

- boyfriend!nico who enlists jack’s help in surprising you with the golden retriever puppy you’ve been begging Nico to agree to adopting, making the poor kid drive three hours one-way to pick up the dog and then sneak the puppy into your shared apartment so Nico can keep you distracted and occupied, wanting to see your face when you open the door and the little furball comes running towards you

- boyfriend!nico who rushes through every post game interview he can because all he wants to do, win or lose, is go home and watch whatever current netflix show you’ve roped him into while eating whatever take-out you were in the mood for that night

- boyfriend!nico putting you on speaker in the locker room before games because the team overheard one of the pre-game pep talks you gave him earlier in the season, so now they all like to hear your encouraging words and how well you inspire each and every one of them to play their best (what jack refers to as your mrs. cap duties)

- boyfriend!nico who has to explain to his teammates why he can’t bring you along to every event the team has to go to because you have your own job and responsibilities, only for the team to whine and grumble about how nico hogs you and they never get to see you (just for him to facetime you halfway through the event so he can pass his phone around for everyone to say hi a few of them asking you to blink three times if nico was holding you hostage)

- boyfriend!nico who arranges for flowers and various treats to be delivered to your door every. single. day. that he’s gone during the season so you know he’s still thinking about you and he misses you, even if he only leaves for a day or two

- boyfriend!nico who listens to the playlist you’ve made for him anytime he’s traveling because he loves hearing whatever new song you’ve found that day that reminds you of him

- boyfriend!nico who begs you to take a bath with him because he’s so sore from a nasty hit earlier in the night and wants to just relax with you and your peach smelling bubble bath with one of your vanilla scented candles burning (but he’ll never admit he loves your sweet, scented candles)

- boyfriend!nico who will always trade a puck or a stick for anything that a fan brings as a gift for you, heart swelling seeing that the fans love you as much as he does

- boyfriend!nico who always wears a wrist full of friendship bracelets you make for him at warmups so he can trade them with the female fans that bring handmade bracelets for the players, so “they always feel included and welcomed at the games, despite what the grumpy old men have to say about it”

[xoxoemynn]

For OFMD Tumblr friends who want a S3 and are scared of Twitter

First, no judgment from me. I very much get it. I resisted Twitter for a long time, and even though I'm now a bit more comfortable on it, it's still not my Fandom Home. There are a TON of valid reasons not to be on Twitter, but if you REALLY want to keep OFMD visible right now and help its chances of returning for a third season, Twitter is the best place to do it. Like it or not, Twitter is still the best social media platform for raising awareness and for instant news updates.

Tumblr posts don't make headlines. Topics that have been trending on Twitter do. And if we want this show to come back, we need to make OFMD impossible to ignore.

By now you've probably seen just how close we came to a S3, and if you're like me, you are RAGING and donning your battle jacket. But I get it can be intimidating to get on Twitter for the first time, so I thought I'd address some common anxieties I see. I'll put below a cut because this got a bit long, but I promise it's a quick read.

I don't know what to say! Where do I even start? That's okay! You don't have to create your own tweets (although it's great if you do). Amplifying other people's posts is also important. Go ahead and like/retweet/reply to other people's posts. This may also help you get an idea of what you may like to say in your own tweets.

Hashtags...yes? Yes! Although don't use too many or you may get flagged as a bot. The biggest one that seems to be emerging is #SaveOFMD. Other popular ones are #RenewAsACrew, #RenewOurFlagMeansDeath, and of course, #OFMD and #OurFlagMeansDeath.

Should I just be tagging all the streaming services? Per @renewasacrew, no. It's counterproductive. You'll want to tag one streamer at a time and be specific. Below is an example of a tweet I made the other day -- use specific reasons why that that particular streamer may benefit from picking up OFMD.

I'm scared. People are mean. Yeah, people are mean. But I will say the vibes over at OFMD Twitter are currently the best I've ever seen them. People seem to have united for the greater good and are being overwhelmingly positive and just trying to do whatever we can to save the show. (That said, again, I already had a pretty curated feed, and was very liberal with blocking users/terms I didn't want to see, but I've been able to spend so much more time in the For You tab than I ever have without being jump scared by something.)

But I don't know anyone there! Wouldn't I just be shouting into the void? Not if you use the hashtags! Fans are being really good about following those and engaging with the tweets. Plus, [Stede voice], I'm your friend. I'm xoxoemynn over there as well, I'll follow you back and engage with any of your posts that I see. Plus, what's been REALLY lovely to see is that SO many lurkers have come out of lurkerdom to support the efforts, and they are being welcomed with open arms, so you will not be alone. Again, I am telling you, vibes? Best I've ever seen them.

I can't get sucked into another social media platform, I don't have the time. The beauty here is you don't need to spend a lot of time. I've been on Twitter more in the past week than I have in the entire year I've had an account, and I'm still only on for maybe an hour total the entire day? I open the app, I check a couple accounts, I engage with a handful of posts, and I close the app. It takes all of five minutes. It's an extremely small lift that can have a very big impact.

My bet is on Zaslav expecting us to be upset, and that there may be a day or two of outrage, but then we'd move on. I'm sure right now he's trying to convince everyone that this is a fluke, and that it'll blow over soon. Don't let him win. Keep OFMD in the news. Be loud (but polite) and make Max and other streamers take note of what a passionate, loyal fan base this show has. Make their stocks continue to drop. Make it clear this is NOT just a fluke, it is NOT business as usual. It's a BIG fuck up with lasting consequences.

Twitter, for all its sins, is the best place to do this.

Now let's get our damned show back.

[lot-of-nothing]

Entwined (Ch. 3)

Melissa Schemmenti x Reader

You finally blow up on Melissa.

Warnings: Toxic Melissa, smut, and very veiled internalized homophobia

Author's Note: Okay so walking into this I had an entirely different idea, and then the fic just wrote itself. Thank you soooo much to @alexusonfire for betaing this <3

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2

While it had been weeks since you last spoke to or texted Melissa, she had been trying to contact you for weeks. You had received ‘come over’ texts, nudes, and lewd messages from the redhead - all of which drove you crazy. Sometimes you would find yourself staring at the past pictures she had sent, craving her. 

This craving felt immoral, especially now that you had been casually seeing someone you met online. 

Ericka had just about everything you were searching for in a partner - especially the way she responded to your texts and happily went on dates with you without you having to beg. She was kind and you were sure you both shared some interests (although you didn’t know what they were). You knew the bar was incredibly low for this stranger you met through a dating app, but you kept telling yourself anything was better than your dating life prior. 

--

Ericka stared across the table at you with her head resting in her hands, listening tentatively to your turn in the game you were playing. She always looked at you with a kindness that made you nervous. Her finger danced across the tabletop as she spoke softly, “Can we order dinner?”

Pulling your phone from your pocket, you opened the folder containing all of the apps for different restaurants and food delivery. You handed over your phone, your hand grazing hers made your cheeks flush. “Yeah. Take a look at what’s available and we can order something. I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

When you emerged from the bathroom, you would have never expected for Ericka to have her coat on with her purse hanging off her shoulder. She held out your phone to you with a dejected look in her eyes that made your heart sink, “Is this the same Melissa you used to see?”

“What?” You ask, chewing the inside of your lip and taking the phone from her hands. Your eyes examined the open text chain between Melissa and you with a new picture you hadn’t seen that had been sent mere minutes ago - a picture featuring the bottom half of Mel’s face and her open blouse with her breasts pulled from her bra. It was mesmerizing, but you tore your eyes away to make yourself seem like less of a terrible person. 

Ericka’s jaw was tight as she spoke, “She texted you.”

“Ericka-”

“No. It’s really okay. It’s better that I know you aren’t emotionally available now than later on when it hurts more.” She cut you off and gave you a pained look that cracked your heart in two. While you hadn’t grown extremely attached to Ericka, she was incredibly kind to you and you never wanted to hurt her in all of this. 

Her tone alone told you that none of this was open for discussion or explanation, but you tried anyway. “It isn’t like that.”

“Then what is it like?” Ericka gave you a few moments to reply, but when you couldn’t formulate an answer she gave a saddened nod. She left you in silence as she walked towards the door, only pausing when she had one hand on the door handle. “That’s what I thought… Have a good night. I hope you find what you are looking for.”

--

After everything happened with Ericka, you were feeling horrible about your inability to fully cut Melissa off. If you are unable to do that, how would you ever move on? Tears pooled in your eyes and you wiped them away with your sleeves. You didn’t feel you had the right to cry after what you did. And to make matters worse a knock came on your front door. 

You pulled open your front door with reddened eyes and you couldn’t believe that Melissa was standing on your front step. The redhead pushed past you with a huff, entering your home without giving you a sideways glance, “I thought she would never leave.”

“What are you talking about?” Your jaw tightened at the prospect that Melissa could have something to do with your date with Ericka going so poorly.

Mel stolled deeper into your home, dropping her purse onto a chair and perching herself on the arm of the same chair. She rolled her eyes as she described how she found herself outside of your home a half hour ago. “Well I drove over here to see why you weren’t respondin’ to any of my messages when I saw Ms. Sunshine pull up.”

“And that’s why you conveniently sent a picture while she was here?” It wasn’t hard to tell from your tone that you were becoming increasingly infuriated. 

“Well I thought it would bring you to your senses. I didn’t plan on her seein’ it.” Melissa flipped her hair over her shoulder nonchalantly. You couldn’t believe how unaffected she seemed by ruining this night for you. How could a person be so cold?

Her confidence made heat rise to your cheeks. You couldn’t remember a time when you were so infuriated by another human. You clenched and unclenched your fists, snarling at the redhead, “So I had a real shot at a real relationship and you couldn’t let me have that? I thought this was just casual, hm?”

Melissa looked down at the floor, speaking with a wavering confidence, “It is.”

“This? This is casual? Casual, Melissa? This has been going on for years! You keep me like a little puppet on a string, but are you ever going to give me a chance? NO! Because you keep telling yourself you aren’t even the least bit gay.” You shifted quickly into shouting, unable to contain yourself any longer. 

Melissa opened her mouth to respond, but you cut her off before the words could fall off her tongue. “DID YOU EVER THINK OF WHAT THAT DOES TO ME? WHAT YOU DO TO ME? You drive me fucking crazy! I had a woman here! A woman who wanted to fucking date me, but you knew how to fuck that up for me so you could be the only one, huh?”

Melissa moved off the chair and placed her hands on her hips, staring up at you in an act of defiance, “Don’t act like you are such a victim. I never forced you to be so goddamn desperate.”

You knew she was trying to intimate you, but you weren’t about to cave for this woman quite so soon, “Desperate? I’m desperate? Says you that sent me so many messages and pictures detailing how badly you needed to be fucked.”

Melissa paused, trying to find her next argument, but it had momentarily escaped her, “I-I-”

“Go upstairs.”

“What?” The redhead’s eyes opened wider, but her mouth still formed a scowl. 

“Go upstairs. I’m going to fuck you.”

—

You weren’t even sure how Melissa was feeling after you told her to get on her hands and knees. Usually you loved watching her face and breasts as you fucked her with the strap, but now you only wanted to get your anger out. 

With one hand you clutched her beautiful red locks, and used the leverage to pull her backward mercilessly onto the dildo. The other hand gripped her waist - undoubtedly leaving fingertip-shaped bruises on her skin.

Melissa’s jaw hung slack, tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she continued to will them away to not show you any weakness. She barely made any noise, however. The redhead had two orgasms which caused her senses to go fuzzy - a sensation she was growing to love. “M-more.”

“More? You think you’re in a position where you can ask for more?” Your voice was a low growl that sent shivers down Melissa’s spine. With a tug of her hair, you pull her backwards so she sat up higher on her knees. The redhead sucked in a breath from the pain, and instinctively you wrapped your spare arm around her waist to pull her down into your lap. 

The feeling of Melissa’s body pressed to yours had you feeling crazy. Slowly you released her hair, and slid your hand to her face, brushing the backs of your fingers across her cheek. Melissa was breathing heavily and subconsciously grinding down onto the strap. Your gentility ended after your thumb glided over her jawline and you dropped your hand to her throat, grasping firm enough to make her whine.

Your voice was merely a whisper as you began slowly rocking tantalizingly slow up into Mel, “You are an evil woman. Consumed by your own selfish pleasures…” 

The pretty redhead let out a meek whine.

Your hand remained steady on her neck while the other trailed down her abdomen, fingers slipping between her folds with ease. While the strap barely moved in and out, you were teasing her sore clit as you listed off Melissa’s sins, “You don’t think I remember all of the things you have done? All of the boyfriends you cheated on with me… Coming to my apartment the night before you and Joe got married… You were broken up with Gary only for a couple hours before you had me in your bed…”

Melissa huffed in frustration and wriggled in your grasp, failing to find the words to argue. Only if you could have seen the way her cheeks flushed pink with embarrassment - those were all memories she pushed deep down. 

“And you’re right. I am no victim. I let you do whatever you want because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.” You put a period on your sentence by catching her ear lobe between your teeth. Even while you wanted to punish Melissa and take all of your anger out on her, you avoided the hoop of her earring as you would never want to cause any real harm.

Flattery was truly the way to Mel’s heart no matter what she would say. Her groan in response was guttural and conveyed a desperation that was incredibly satisfying. She then began rutting against your hand, crying your name over and over again. 

“I wish I could hate you.”

And with those cold words, Melissa came hard enough that she doubled over out of your grasp. She buried her face into the sheets to hide the tears that involuntarily fell from her eyes. 

—

Once Melissa had recovered from her orgasm and moved off the strap, you slid off the bed. With your back turned to the redhead, you removed the strap in exchange for sweatpants. You refused to look at Mel when you spoke, “You need to go.”

“What?” She whipped her head around. Her brows were furrowed, and if you would have turned around, you would have seen the hurt in her eyes. 

“Leave. I can’t get over you if you are still here.” You cleared your throat uncomfortably as you pulled a shirt over your head. You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or wretch - regardless you were in pain with the line you drew in the sand for Melissa.

Melissa’s voice was soft… softer than you had ever known, “Hon…” 

“Have mercy, Melissa.” 

Four Months Later

The bartender placed a drink on the bar before you, earning them a furrowed brow and questioning glance. They gave a toothy grin in response and pointed down the bar to your left, “It's from the redhead.”

Your stomach sank at the prospect, and the bartender noticed how your features drooped. With a sympathetic glance, they let you be with your thoughts. 

Melissa. It had to be her. 

You stared down at the wood grain of the bar, debating if you even wanted to open the wounds that were barely healed as it was. Even a glance felt like too much for you now. You weren’t ready for this after everything ended so terribly.

But it didn’t seem like Melissa was giving you much of a choice as her plump hand crept from your shoulder blade to your shoulder, “Long time no see.”

Link to Chapter 4

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta, @unicorniusfallapatorius, @sapphicxrat, @earpivore

[saleeba]

fool ; jude bellingham

summary ♡ betting on the phenomenon of unrequited feelings, you and jude have never dared to make the first move with the other until a reunion forces new questions to be answered.

pairing ♡ jude bellingham x fem!reader

content ♡ 18+, smut, friends to lovers, alcohol consumption, cursing, kissing, both jude & reader are pining idiots, fingering, p in v sex, marking, missionary, unprotected sex (jude pulls out but still pls practise safe sex!!)

a/n ♡ she's baaaack :D but first☝🏽alexa play fool by nct 127 !!!! the lyric "you’re a goddess but i’m a fool, what should i do?" was written for this fic in particular i just know it was :] anyway hehe this fic is based off this request so tysmm to anon for sending such an exciting prompt !! i hope yous enjoy ���🏽💗 WAIT P.S this isn’t proofread bc i lowkey am not rocking with it so i didn’t wanna put myself thru having to read it again & again … im sorry for any mistakes :’)

you had just gotten off work to a stream of relentless texts from your best friends’ groupchat — phone pinging off the rails whilst you were on shift, muffled buzzes from your bag making you wonder what on earth was worth blowing up in that whatsapp group on a random friday afternoon.

on the train back home, you tap open the green app, anticipating yourself easily spending the entire journey catching up on the three hundred-plus texts from your closest mates. you decide to start right from the beginning of the influx, thumb scrolling nonstop and eyes blurring from the rapid movement until they focus back on the screen where you stop, finally having reached the destination of the first text that set it all off. 

it was from none other than jude bellingham, and you were nearly embarrassed by the way your face instantly lit up upon reading his message. the groupchat’s golden boy had popped up after weeks of minimal contact, asking if he could take everyone for a night out tomorrow to make up for it, stating that he finally has some small gaps of free time between hectic pre-season schedules to allow him to do so.

it honestly warmed your heart that the first thing he wants away from football is to see you all. you’d been a band of good friends since the first year of secondary school, contact not necessarily strained as you all had a lot of love for each other but rather unspokenly reduced after leaving school two years ago and falling into busy university or career ventures.

instead of scrolling through to read and react to the plethora of follow-up texts after his, you ignore them and jump straight to typing your reply to his invitation, casting aside that nagging voice asking you: doesn’t that seem too desperate?

no, right? i’m just accepting his invitation, getting straight to the point, the convo ended half an hour ago anyway. you’re arguing with yourself now, feeling the need to give unnecessary excuses to nonexistent accusations. if you were to be honest with yourself, you were always self-conscious of the way you behaved around jude, even now debating on whether to add your signature heart emoji or if it’d come across as you trying too hard given your feelings for him; albeit them being feelings that no one knows about, not even him. you made sure for it to be that way.

with a mental note to get over yourself, you send an affirmative ‘i’m up for it!’, signature heart included, and quickly shut off your phone. heart beating so rapidly, you scolded yourself for getting so worked up over a mere reply and for definitely not getting over yourself. god knows how you’re going to handle seeing him in person. 

a sudden double buzz from your device does nothing to calm you down, instead dampening your hands with sweat when you grab it and see a pair of messages from him.

jude 🌟: heyy i’m so glad you can make it tomorrow :)

jude 🌟: can’t wait to see you!! ❤❤

he had messaged you separately for some reason and he had included two hearts… the overthinking starts for you again, without even beginning to think about what to reply this time, and you question why he couldn’t have just replied to you in the groupchat or why he couldn’t have just left the end of the messages with a ‘x’ like he usually does or why he would even say what he said in the last message. mind frantic and unable to clear itself, you thank yourself for having your read receipts turned off so you can have your mini meltdown without worrying about jude knowing you’d seen his messages multiple minutes ago. god, you were down so bad. 

you force yourself to open the messages app and send the most casual reply you can type.

you: can’t wait to see you too! ❤

you try to keep it short, sweet and nonchalant even if your fingers are itching to type more – more about how much you had missed him, more about what he was planning to wear tomorrow night so that maybe you could match your own outfit with him, more about your true, unfiltered feelings for him. it’s pathetic really; you hadn’t seen him in two years and the first thing you wanted to do was throw yourself at him, spilling all the secrets you’d been holding close for so many years. you leave it at that, put your phone on do not disturb mode and head on home, waiting for the long hours of friday evening to pass and saturday night to arrive.

***

and so saturday night rolls around and you just about finish touching up your makeup and smoothing out your dark blue dress before the doorbell rings, and you’re whisked away to the club by a couple of your girlfriends. 

as soon as you step your high heels into the building, you’re met with the sight of flowing booze and the noise of noughties r&b beats bouncing around the brightly lit walls. dragged by the hands of your friends, you find yourself standing next to a booth at the back of the club, the rest of the group now welcoming you latecomers with a loud cheer.

“finally, girls. you took your time!” one of your male friends remarks, ushering you all to sit down.

“oh god, what have we missed?” you beam, trying to scan the group amongst the strobing lights to catch a glimpse of the person you were really there for. 

“nah, you’re just in time because… first round’s on mister madrid!”

the callout breaks your friend group into a raucous holler as your gaze fixes onto the six foot-one footballer who stands up with an amused grin and a sigh of feigned defeat. your heart quickens and your smile turns into a state of near disbelief over how good jude looks right now – graphic white t-shirt hugging his biceps in all the right places and hanging over a pair of smart-casual black trousers.

“yeah, yeah, anything for my groupies,” he winks at no one in particular but your brain almost convinces you that he was looking at you while doing it. you send a shy smile his way just in case but what he says next has your mouth running dry. “help us out, will ya, y/n?”

you hesitate for a second too long for your liking, stumbling over your words while your friends peer at you. “uh… uh-huh, yeah, of course.” you answer as quick as you can, standing up on your feet slowly as to not trip over your now-shaking legs and send yourself flying into jude, and to avoid embarrassing yourself more than you think you already have.

he responds with a grateful smile and you follow him to the bar where he places an order for a round of drinks and some shots to be delivered to the group by the two of you. there’s an odd unfamiliarity to the silence between you both and you realise that you aren’t normally this quiet around jude, and neither is he around you; you would always joke that he’d be eligible to talk for england if he wasn’t already playing football for them. he’d retort with a comment about how his ears could almost fall off with the amount of chatting you do, and you’d dryly reply with a ‘well, they’re too big for your head anyway. look at the size of them!’ the pair of you were always as thick as thieves in the eyes of everyone else. which is why you didn’t expect it to be like this, especially after two years of not seeing each other – there was so much you wanted to catch up on from his world and so much you wanted to share from yours. you decidedly gain some courage and take the initiative to spark some conversation, get something going at least.

“soo, how have you been, then?” you’re both facing the bar, your head barely tilting in jude’s direction to indicate that yes, it is him that you’re talking to and not some random like he assumes you are with the way you’re positioned away from him, eyes just about turning to steal a glance of his figure but not to hold eye contact. “how’s la vida española?”

jude finds amusement in your sudden flaunt of the spanish language, a smile breaking out on his face, unseen to you since he’s still facing the same direction that you are, preoccupying his eyes with the myriad of bottles on the shelves while his mind searches for an apt reply.

“yeah, it’s been great, i think i wanna stay there forever,” jude laughs, his fingers tapping on the black surface of the bar. you can’t help the selfish feeling of your heart dropping at his confession. “i miss you, though, y’know… a lot.” 

this one confession forces your whole body to turn itself towards him, eyes now chasing after his to seek some form of sincerity, to see if he was just messing about or if he really meant what he just said. he shifts his head to face you now, a bashful look painted onto his features. the expectant silence says it all really; of course i mean it. 

you gulp and decide to break the quietness with a sarcastic, jesting “ugh…”, jude’s face dropping at what he thinks is genuine disgust from you. you realise your attempt to denounce the awkwardness has backfired.

“oh my god, you dickhead, i’m joking,” how is it that mere moments ago you were shaking at the sheer real-life presence of him but now you’d transformed into having this confident playfulness? and all of it without a drop of alcohol in your system as well – you’re quietly proud of yourself. “i missed you too, jude… a lot.” you coyly repeat his words. 

upon your turn of the confession, the bartender sets down your drink orders and the two of you wordlessly carry the trays over to where your friends are situated, the silence way more comfortable now that you’re both basking in assurance, unbeknown to the other that your hearts were racing at a hundred miles per hour.

***

not even two hours and an innumerable amount of shots later, you’re all a drunken mess; definitely not a surprise to a single one of you. what is a surprise is the way you’re strewn across jude, right leg wrapped around his left, head on his chest, swirling and sipping from what’s clearly an empty glass to any sober, sane person. you grumble and mutter a complaint about the lack of liquor in the booth, taking it upon yourself to head to the bar and order another round for everyone.

“i’ll come with you,” jude announces over the pounding of the music, standing up so quickly that his next five steps are staggered and he has to cling onto your arm to steady himself. “i’m fine, i’m okay.” he assures nobody that asked.

the two of you stumble your way into the path of the bar, determined to drink until the sun comes up and forget every strand of stress until the hangovers come knocking. jude’s soft grip on your arm has you being led in the opposite direction all of a sudden, though. 

“uhm, where are we going?” you question, head still turned to where the bar is located, about to ask him if he was so hammered he couldn’t walk in a simple straight line to get to where you’d planned to go. “jude?”

he’s silent, save for humming his way to his desired destination, and you question if he even knows where he’s leading you. before you make the choice of going along with him or leaving his clearly confused self to go cop your next cocktail, you find yourself in the disabled toilets, pushed up against the sink with the door not even shut properly, gasping at how rough jude is handling your body compared to his soft touches from before, and how close his face is to yours, warm breath fanning the skin of your lips. you weren’t strictly against it all but how the hell have you ended up like this? The alcohol and the questions come at you fast, dizzying your brain but you can’t help but feel so keenly anticipative.

“i’m sorry, i just���” he pulls away from you, eyes fluttering closed so he can re-evaluate his actions, exhaling through his nose as if he was letting go of all doubts before continuing. “am i okay to do this?” he places his hands on your waist, pushing himself back into your space, his full lips more or less about to take yours. you have to refrain from letting the effects of alcohol take over your tongue and uttering back with a breathy ‘you can do whatever you want to me’.

instead, you answer with an earnest, eager nod, inviting his lips to finally do that one thing you had been dreaming of for so long, to kiss yours so silly that they’re left with the imprint of him. and jude does just that.

his mouth takes in yours so determinedly, shyness and hesitation now long-dissolved feelings for you both as your hands find home around the back of his neck, pushing his head further onto you, feeling the need to taste him more and more until you’re both consumed by each other. 

it’s a messy makeout, noses bumping and teeth clashing, but it’s oh so hot, the way he gasps into your mouth from breathlessness and pleasure, running and gripping his large hands over the material adorning your waist and hips as the need to rip it off you nearly overtakes him. to you, he’s so utterly intoxicating that a gallon of alcohol would pale in comparison to how dizzy his skin on yours makes you feel. 

you release a moan at the meagre thought of jude all over your body, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue over yours, filthy noises of wetness and carnality from the both of you reaching high pitch as jude somehow simultaneously pushes you against the sink and pulls you against his chest, his manhandling of you getting you even more hot and bothered before you’re both interrupted by the hub of people passing by and huddling right outside the bathroom, their self-occupied shouts and cheers dragging you out of the bubble that the two of you had wrapped yourselves in, almost sobering you up on the spot.

you push jude out of your way, gentle but abrupt, and give him a look of apologetic regret. “i-i’m sorry,” you say, jitterily walking past him and exiting the room without a second glance or word, heading straight to the booth where your friends are hollering and hurraying, occupied with shot-drinking contests. 

your girlfriends offer to go home with you when you lie and tell them you’re not feeling very well, but you decline them, instead telling them to have fun on your behalf and letting them know that you’ll try to text them once you get home safely. you can tell they’re confused by your shaken state and the absence of jude but you grab your bag and make your exit before the interrogation can even begin to brew.

you manage to grab a taxi back home, surprised by how competent you are despite the alcohol in your bloodstream and confusion in your brain. on the way there, you can’t stop the bouncing of your knee nor the racing of your psyche, asking yourself how and why whatever went down with jude went down like that. you curse at yourself for being so impulsive in starting and finishing the whole ordeal with him in the way that you did – you don’t know if it’s the empty, depressive drunk thoughts or just clarity from the whole jude thing that makes you feel like there’s no coming back from this at all. you feel like crawling into your bed and never coming out from it ever again. 

the taxi driver has to call for your attention multiple times until you reach earth again and pay him the journey’s fee. you go skulking all the way up to your front door, only letting out a breath that you feel like you’ve been holding since the beginning of the night once the door shuts behind you.

the rest of the night is quiet and orderly for you, telling yourself to not invite any more chaos into your brain and to simply drink some water and to go to sleep. waking up tomorrow morning is going to be painful in more ways than one.

***

you spend the rest of the weekend nursing a ferocious hangover and a frazzled heart, only contacting your friends to tell them that you got home fine and to joke that you probably need a century or two for this hangover to be gone. you thank the high heavens that they don't bring up the topic of you and jude 

you try not to think too much about jude, you really do, but sunday night has a couple of taps landing you on the instagram app and you learn that he’s already back in spain, pictures of him in training sliding across your phone screen on his story along with selfies with his teammates. usually, you tap that small red heart at the bottom and hope that he sees it amongst his millions and millions of notifications, a tiny ritual of yours that now has you feeling so pathetic that you don’t dare to do it anymore.

running a hand over your weary face, you set your phone down and opt to nap the night away, finding comfort in the non-intrusion from your friends and the no contact from jude, hoping to keep yourself busy and distracted with whatever the work week brings.

a ring from the doorbell rips through your flat just as you’re organising your pillows, forcing you to stop what you’re doing and ponder who could be at the door on a sunday while the clock ticks some minutes past one o’clock. you don’t recollect ordering any food nor are you expecting a delivery, especially not this late. 

trudging your way to the front door, you open it to find jude bellingham standing there and you feel an instant pang of regret, wishing you had peeked through the window to see who it could be, wishing you had pretended to not be in, wishing the ground would open up right now and swallow you whole  – anything to escape the confrontation that you’re now having to face. your face heats up with embarrassment and nerves but you manage to rupture the silence before your mouth can turn dry. 

“j-jude, hi,” you try and keep your greeting as polite and cordial as you can, even when all you really want to do is to chase him off your doorstep. “what are you doing here?”

your query has jude visibly gulping, hands fiddling with each other as he attempts to hold eye contact with you, his vision a bit blurry from exhaustion. “y/n… sorry, can i come in?”

you oblige, holding the door open wide before you guide him to the living room and invite him to sit down on the plushness of your sofa, settling yourself on the opposite end of it. you silently prompt him to say what he came here to say with a nod of your head. 

“uhm, i’m sorry for turning up unannounced, and so late…” ever the courteous. “i had to sneak away from the lads and catch the last flight to here so it was all a bit down to the wire.” he lets out a small, uneasy laugh.

you cut off his rambling with a curt “what do you want, jude?” you don’t mean for it to sound so rude but you still hold the attitude of wanting to get this over and done with, already feeling annoyance at yourself for even letting him into your home. 

“right, yeah, i actually wanted to talk about what happened on saturday,” he goes back to fiddling with this thumbs, eyebrows furrowed but he avoids looking at you this time. not that you can blame him because your own vision shifts to anywhere but his direction. “i’m so sorry for making you uncomfortable a-and please tell me if this is inappropriate, but i haven’t stopped thinking about last night, i haven't stopped thinking about you, i-i’m sorry, i know this is all so silly and you probably don’t even feel the same bu-”

you stop him right there, this time with good reason as you can’t bear holding back your real emotions, not when he’s practically given you the green light to spill the contents of your heart.

“no, jude, i didn’t feel uncomfortable at all,” you assure him, gaze now on the footballer in front of you and you almost can’t believe the words leaving your mouth right now. “i wanted it to happen, i’m glad it happened, you know, i think i’ve had dreams about it happening,” you try and offset any tension with a timid chuckle before turning quite pensive. “i really like you, jude, i have for a long time… god, sorry, this is so embarrassing.” you return to making light of the situation you’ve put yourself in, the timidness sinking back in as quick as the relief lifts you up. 

jude moves closer to your now-cowering body, knees touching as your heartbeat surges with worry and self-consciousness all wrapped up into a tight, miserable ball. he puts his sweat-dampened hands into yours and squeezes in silent assurance before raising them up to his lips and laying a chaste kiss on the heated skin.

he can’t help but break out into a sweet smile, eyes threatening to crinkle at the edges. your face is still sketched with tension and now confusion has joined the mix.

“i can’t tell you how long i’ve waited to hear that from you, how much i needed to hear it,” your eyes meet his, widening in surprise a little. “i’m a fool for not telling you sooner… i like you, y/n, i really like you.” he repeats your own words back at you, leaning in with a smattering of amusement dancing in his vision. 

“can i kiss you?” the question leaves your lips faster than you can even process it in your brain.

jude wastes no time in replying with a firm pressing of his mouth on yours, deepening it within seconds, the need to cement his feelings for you being told through the way he cradles your head in his hand, leaning you back onto the arm of the sofa to further intensify the kiss. your lips move along with his, the soft weight of his body pressed against yours making you whine into his mouth in ecstasy.

he lifts off of you with a puckering of his swollen lips, the both of you taking the chance to draw in some air and attempt to regulate your breathing pattern.

“please take me to the bedroom,” you beg, breathless from the sheer sight of his dark eyes and pretty pout. there’s no fight nor denial from jude as he picks you up and prompts you to wrap your legs around his waist, quickening his pace once you point in the direction of your room.

he lays you down on the bed so gently, lips latching onto yours once again before they travel down your jaw and over the warm skin of your neck. the light touch of his fluttering eyelashes married with the pressure of his soft lips has your head spinning, hands tentatively laid on top of your sheets since you don’t trust yourself to not grab his head and bring it back to your lips. his fingers tinker with the waistband of your pyjama trousers, stretching it off your skin before he asks permission to peel them down your legs. 

once they’re cast away in some corner of your bedroom, jude divides your legs by the underside of your knees, tucking himself into the now available space between them, turning onto his side and resting on his left forearm. he leaves a small kiss over your covered cunt and you try your best to not just clamp his head in between your thighs and smother him with your growing wetness here and now. 

“need to get you ready, baby,” the sudden mention of the petname has you throbbing, squirming even more when he traces a line from your clit down to where there’s a small damp spot forming on the dark material of your underwear.

“jude, please,” you whine out, lifting your hips in a desperate bid to get the boy to strip your lower half completely. 

he shushes you in his own charming way, making sure to comply with your demand by getting up onto his knees and discarding your soaked panties in a matter of seconds, the cold air generated by his large hands whipping them off you hits your exposed pussy, making you hiss through gritted teeth.

jude returns to the gap between your spread legs, sitting back but still on his knees, his higher position causing you to shift onto resting your body weight on the palms of your hands in order to peer at his actions – which start with him re-tracing that same teasing line from your aching clit to your hole with his thumb, the feeling now so intense on your unclothed skin. he hums in what sounds to be satisfaction when you throw your head back in pleasure, taking it in his favour to slip his index finger into the tightness of your pussy. 

you release a guttural groan at the feeling of finally having some part of him inside you; you of course don’t want this to be the only part but you’re still so very grateful, so fucking grateful he’s now rubbing at your clit in delicious rounds, thumb tracing circle after circle while his fingers form a pair, pistoning in and out of you so easily due to the way your cunt douses itself with every move of jude’s. 

“fuck, baby,” jude moans at the sight of his soaked digits every time they barely pull out of that pretty pussy, his thumb torturing your sensitive bud increasingly so, the cries and whimpers spilling from your lips an incentive for him. “feel so good and tight around my fingers, can’t imagine how you’ll feel around my dick.” 

his words have you absolutely reeling, writhing against his hand to try and chase that moment of release. 

“please, jude, i’m so close,” you’re warning and demanding at the same time, almost begging him to not stop or even think about moving his fingers out of you. “god, please, i need it,” 

jude suddenly retracts both of his hands, leaving you bare and empty. “no way, baby, need to have you cumming on my cock or not cumming at all,” he comments with a shake of his head, denying you the opportunity of leaking your cum over his hand. upon seeing your bewildered face, he makes up for it by putting on a show of licking your juices clean off his fingers, the digits popped inside his mouth and dragged right back out with a low moan, him praising the way you taste. 

“move up the bed for me, angel,” he orders, watching you while he stands up and unclothes himself as quick as he can. you scoot backwards, legs still spread open like they’ve been locked in that position, before pulling your oversized t-shirt off of you, chest void of a restricting bra . “good girl,” he praises, crawling up to hover his body over your laying one, cock in hand as your legs come to wrap around him. “are you still okay with this? we can stop at any point, okay?”

the sincerity of his voice has you melting. some would remark that the bar is in hell for you but the truth is that you hadn’t been with anyone like this for more months than you could count on your hands. you've been touch-starved and lacking words of affirmation for so long, and you needed something to be only about you for once. 

“i’m more than okay with this,” you smile up at him, nodding to make your approval fully known. “and yes, i know i can stop you if i need to.”

jude reciprocates the same smile before leaning in and smothering your lips with his, pushing his cock into your tight wetness, so tight that your pussy almost pushes him back out, not used to being penetrated by something so thick.

“oh my god!” the feeling of tightness/fullness has you both gasping out the same thing at the same time, erupting into quiet giggles when the two of you realise your matching reactions. 

jude’s mouth finds its way back home in the embrace of your lips and you swear this is heaven, the way his cock slides in and out of your sopping cunt, set at such a perfect pace, the slight friction causing you to grow even wetter – the filth of it all contrasts so well with the sweetness of his muffled moans and tender kisses on your neck, moving down onto your collarbones and tits.

a particularly harsh thrust of his cock has your back arching, chest pushed up to his heated face, and he takes this golden opportunity to wrap his lips around your erect nipple, spending a good while sucking and tugging on the skin around it. you’re amazed at how his cock doesn’t relent inside you, the speed still so quick and consistent even when he’s so occupied in painting splotches on your tits with his mouth.

“there,” he pants out, pulling his head back and marvelling at his own creation. “now, there’s no doubt that you’re really mine.” the smile he gives you is a killer.

you whine at his declaration of you belonging to him, scratching at his shoulders and calling out his name to indicate that it’s all too much for you, that you’re so, so close to cumming on his cock and really giving him what he wants rather than pleasing yourself. you figure that’s you gone now; you’re more willing to put the boy above your own needs because you’re down that fucking bad for him.

“fuck, jude, i’m gonna cum!” you sob, your moans becoming more frequent and higher pitched, legs starting to shake from the intoxicating mix of exhaustion and delight. you’re frantically chanting “please, please, please” into his mouth which parts to swallow your whimpering, wet lips kissing your trembling ones. 

“go on, baby, cum for me, cum all over this cock,” he groans out, eyes squeezing shut when the feeling of your pussy clamping down tightly on his thickness proves too much to handle, face finding refuge in the crook of your neck. he knows you don’t need his permission, he would’ve let you orgasm as many times as you wanted to, would’ve let you use him like your own personal sex toy, but the words were only there to keep you going when his hips felt like faltering – he needed you cumming on his cock like he promised before, and he wasn’t about to fuck it up himself.

a final scream rips from your throat as you cum hard around jude, pussy clenching and pulsating around his cock so sporadically you thought you were having two orgasms at once. jude can’t handle it anymore, pulling out with a myriad of moans as he pumps his shaft with a hand, decorating the expanse of your lower abdomen with warm, white liquid. you’re still squirming, slowly trying to wheeze out the remaining whimpers from your lungs which you’re finding hard to do with the way jude pants and moans above you, the boy so spent he can’t help but breathe like he hasn’t had access to air for the past hour.  

he flops down by your side, arms and legs sprawled like a starfish, chest rising and falling as he attempts to recuperate from the mindblowing sex you two just had. the image is so unserious that you can’t stifle your giggles but you decide to take another step of courage to lay on your side resting your head on his shoulder, fingers stroking his abs and playing with the curly hairs of his happy trail. 

the room is quiet now with the scent of sex wafting through your nostrils on occasion but it’s the most comfortable silence you’ve experienced with jude, the feeling of his hot skin on yours so soothing to you.

after a period of panting, jude clears his throat and your ears prick up at the presence of sound. he turns his head towards you and you lift yourself up and off him out of instinct – you want full attention on him.

“i don’t want this to be a one-time kinda thing, y’know,” he proclaims, biting his lip from saying too much in one go.

“what, is this your way of saying you want round two already?” you joke, nose crinkling at the way he rolls his eyes playfully.

“shut up,” he delivers a poke to your side. “i mean, well, i don’t want either one of us to see this as a spur-of-the-moment thing, i just…” you look at him expectantly, silently telling him to continue. “i want you to be my girlfriend, y/n.” 

you’re nearly knocked back by his words, wondering if they’re real or if you’re simply just hearing things. you thought dialogue like that, coming from him, was only reserved for your imagination, kept secret and only spoken to you in late-night mental scenarios that would comfort you on your way to slumberland.

you let out a laugh that’s an odd mix of relief and disbelief, quickly replying “yes, yes, of course” to his awaiting face, which releases a look of relief itself before jude captures your lips with such passion you’re both knocked back onto the plush pillows, giggling into each other’s mouths until your hands find themselves running down the defined muscles of his abdomen and over his hardening cock.

[sickophantic]

𝘴𝘶𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘵 ˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

pairing. stalker!leon / afab! reader

warnings. stalking, kidnapping, noncon, probably other stuff but idkk, read at your own risk

word count. 4,644

note. i like, haven't written anything for ummm half a year,, but i'm super excited about this fic!! started it almost two months ago and i finally finished it :33

Poor baby, haven’t been taking care of yourself for weeks; haven’t been eating or sleeping and barely going out for groceries, always staying inside except for work, leaving the house early in the morning and returning home at 2 a.m. Poor girl’s been coming back so late just for a shower, a quick, shitty dinner or a cup of tea, and after that straight to bed, day after day after day. And of course, Leon noticed what it was doing to you immediately: your sunken eyes from the late hours and the graveyard shifts, the dull skin from all your forgotten skincare, God, all those products collecting dust in your little bathroom, and the way your flesh was starting to cling to your bones, oh you poor thing. He couldn’t have that happen to his angel, absolutely not.

Sitting on the bed, watching you, something broke in him every time he saw you all teary eyed and tired, scrolling through your phone, looking through all your contacts. It’d happen almost nightly, after work and after a shower, all of you but your face hidden in the cold cover of the darkness, your quivering lips and your matted eyelashes limned by the blue light of your phone, your finger hovering over your friends’ numbers as you debated with yourself. He’d see the way your brow furrowed as you weighed the risk of opening up to people who should care about you, but fuck if it actually felt like it. So you’d just sigh, suck in a breath, and set your phone on the bed table and fumble in the darkness to find its charger, before shutting your eyes, preparing for next day’s hell.

He’d watch you breathe for a little while, his own eyes intent on his screen, before he’d shut the app and set his phone down. It was like a nightly routine at this point. He’d come home from the R.P.D., and every day, his heart would soften when he’d check on you, watch you through the cameras he installed and see how lonely and apathetic and pathetic you were. Poor baby had no one. Just made it even more obvious how much you needed him.

When you’d skipped dinner for the third time that week, he decided enough was enough. He didn’t want to, of course he didn’t, but he’d have to take drastic measures. Just, take you away for a little bit. Temporary, of course. Just until you got your things together. He was helping you. You’d see that. That’s why today, he slipped into your apartment with a copied key and stirred something special into your tea.

Sweet thing came home late, rubbing your bleary eyes and yawning, throwing your keys somewhere by the door, slipping your coat off and heading to the kitchen, wanting to microwave your day-old tea. Waited thirty seconds for the microwave to beep. He watched on his phone as you put creamer and sugar in your tea and downed it quickly. You always liked things sweet. You took a shower and stumbled into bed, all sluggish and soft, falling asleep almost immediately. 

A few minutes later, the front door opened, letting in the dim, yellow light from the hallway and a pair of silent footsteps. He took his coat off, setting it gently on the rack, slipping his shoes off quietly before stealing into your room. His heart fluttered when he saw you, the only sound in the room your soft breathing and the only movement the light rises and falls of your chest.

He sat next to you on the bed, feeling the way the mattress dipped beneath him, and placed a hand on your cheek, rubbing small circles into your skin. He watched you for a while, resting his arm on your shoulder and gazing down at you, fingers playing with your hair or knuckles grazing across your face, before he smiled. He’d be good to you, real good. Treat you like a princess, just the way you deserved. No more stress, no more hard work. Just smile and look pretty. He wanted you so bad, fuck, even right now, but he promised himself to take it real soft, real slow, real sweet. Just for you, his perfect girl.

-

His heart almost stopped when he saw your eyes open, eyelashes fluttering, cheeks flushed. He’d been sitting on his bed, admiring your sleeping form, lightly rubbing small circles onto your cheeks with the backs of his knuckles, just like last night. Except, now you were really here, in his bed, with him. Made him want to kiss you and hold you and fuck you, all at once. Couldn’t do that yet, though. But God, he was so excited to see you, couldn’t stop himself from thinking about you, had to pull himself away from work cause he couldn’t get anything done, even made you breakfast in bed. But seeing your waking face not be that of immediate adoration, even though that’d be a little insane to ask for, broke his heart. Seeing your eyes widen and your brows furrow as your mind raced to explain where the hell you where and how this happened made his chest tighten with guilt. Poor baby. He’d make it better, make it all better, pinkie promise.

“Hi, hi.” He cooed, still caressing your cheek. Immediately, you flinched backwards, finally noticing him. But he kept going, keeping his voice quiet, low, like he was talking to a frightened, injured animal. “‘m Leon, okay? Don’t be afraid, just gonna take care of you, sweetheart.”

You opened your mouth to speak, to scream out, to cry for mercy, to beg to be let go, he couldn’t tell, but instead, with a small, cracked voice, you asked, “What?”

He moved his hand upwards, rubbing circles with the pad of his thumb on your temple. He saw the way your eyes were glossing over and the way your eyebrows scrunched and the way your lips trembled beneath him and he felt so terrible for doing this to you but at the same time you looked so fucking pretty he wanted to do it over and over again. Shit. He didn’t mean to think that way, that was so mean. Didn’t mean to, not at all. It was an accident, honest. He sucked in a breath, realizing he’d been visibly hesitating for a few seconds. Remembering what he was trying to do, he reached behind him, grabbing a fork and a plate, still a little warm, bringing a piece up to your mouth. “Just wanna take care of you, baby.” He spoke softly, trying to hide all his earlier thoughts. “It's just French toast. Nothing else in it.” He promised.

You grimaced. "No."

He opened his mouth to try to reason with you, explain that he just made it and there really was nothing in it and you needed to eat, but he could tell you were scared. He swallowed, setting the plate aside. He scooted a little closer on the bed and kept talking, all soft and sweet, “Haven’t been looking after yourself for the past month, have you?” He asked. “Just wanna help you, angel. Don’t need anything in return. No work, no chores, nothing, okay?” He murmured.

He watched your face for a few seconds, expression twisting from panic to confusion to disbelief. “What the fuck are you talking about?” You whispered, all hissy and teary eyed and confused and scared. “Oh my God, what, you can’t, fuck, what are you talking about?” You repeated, almost incoherent.

He just shushed you gently, placing a thumb to your lips. “Shhh. I told you. 'm just gonna take care of you.” He cooed.

You squirmed uncomfortably beneath him, trying to escape out from under him only to have his wrap land around your throat, pressing lightly enough to hurt only a little but enough to warn you to stop squirming. He hated squirming. He felt bad, really bad for threatening his poor girl, but your reaction was starting to be a little frustrating. He sighed. “C’mon, it’s not that bad. Just gonna keep you here for a little, unless you wanna stay more,” he smiled. “Get you back on your feet, sweetheart.”

For some reason, you suddenly stilled. He noticed, and he also noticed the way your entire expression grew dazed, but he just kept on talking, almost rambling, enjoying your silence and your stillness, kept murmuring sweet nothings to you, his perfect, perfect girl. He was telling you how much he loved you and how long he’d been waiting to take you home and just how God damn excited he was when you interrupted him.

“I’m gonna,” you stuttered. “‘m gonna throw up.”

The sounds of your dry heaving over the empty toilet were the only sounds in that bathroom, echoing, bouncing off the walls. Sick, pitiful noises. Leon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, as you gripped the sides of the toilet like your life depended on it, knuckles turned white from the pressure and the rest of your appearance disheveled. He knew what you were thinking, knew that you were panicking about the fact you’d never met him before and who the hell was he and Jesus was he a psycho? And was he in love with you? Oh God, what was he saying about you not taking care of yourself? Was he watching you? Must’ve been watching you, or how else would he know? He saw you wretch even harder. Nothing came out. He grimaced. 

“It’s not that bad, baby. Promise.” He said, approaching slowly. You were sobbing now, not even trying to vomit anymore. Not like you could, anyways. “C’mon,” he asked, tone dropping a little. Your chest rose and fell faster. Frightened little thing.

“Fuck,” you whispered, voice cracking, and he couldn’t tell if it was because he just kidnapped you or because nothing was coming up. You sat back from the toilet, crawling backwards into the corner farthest from Leon, mumbling, begging, crying something like go away go away please please please. You kept on repeating yourself, sometimes stopping to swallow and bringing a hand up to your chest or your throat because it hurt so bad or maybe you just couldn't breathe. He was trying to comfort you, let you know he wouldn’t hurt you and he loved you and it was okay and you were okay, but you just kept curling further in to yourself, crying now replacing the sounds of your dry heaving, face all red and eyes a little puffy and voice completely broken as you begged about something, but at this point you were just incoherent.

Leon stepped forward and you flinched back, and he let out a little sigh, leaning against the bathroom wall and staring at your poor, shivering form, brushing his hand through his hair, completely exasperated, and thinking What am I going to do with you?

- A few hours earlier, he was stirring coffee in the breakroom, absently glancing up at the television, when he recognized a familiar pair of tired eyes. Huh, he thought. He sipped his coffee as he watched your parents crying on live television, almost incoherent, recounting all the details he already knew about you. He felt a little pang in his heart, knowing that he took away these people's only child, only daughter, but it was for the best, wasn't it? He was taking such good care of you, and though you would never admit it, he could see the way you were slowly brightening up, the way life was returning to your drained body. He was doing a good thing. He was a good person.

Now, a little later, with keys jingling in his finger, he whistled softly, listening to the small click as the door unlocked and he slipped inside quietly. It’d been about two weeks since he’d… kidnapped? you. He wouldn’t say kidnapped, maybe taken instead. It’d been two weeks since he’d taken you. Sounds a little better. He pulled his shoes off by the door, debating whether or not to call out to you that he was home. It was dark already, so you were probably hiding, shivering under his blankets and clutching that little bear he’d bought you, as if that’d stop him from finding you. He sighed a little. This was taking longer than he thought it would. Would’ve thought you’d have at least warmed up to him by this point.

There were only two lights on, one above him and the other a little farther away by the dining table, leaving the rest of the room in a semi-darkness. He saw your half eaten bowl on the kitchen counter. He yawned, setting his coat on the rack and slipping his keys into his back pocket. He’d have to hide them later. Remembering an earlier text from Chris, he leaned against the wall, taking out his phone to check his messages. He watched the loading sign, watched it swirl and swirl and swirl around nothing. Finally loaded. He tapped on Chris’s icon and skimmed something about a work party. He yawned again. He’d deal with it tomorrow. He was slipping his phone into his other pocket when he heard your voice, soft and strangely deferent. “Leon?” you asked.

He looked up, a little surprised to see you standing there, your silhouette outlined by the light behind you. He was surprised to see you in one of his shirts, completely oversized on your frame. He realized it’d already been a few seconds, passing by with him just staring at you. It wasn’t a bad thing, though. You were just so pretty, how could he not? When he finally snapped himself out of his daze, he yawned again, “Yeah, baby?”, finding himself walking instinctively towards you.

You were fidgeting with your fingers. Your eyes darted from him to the door, from him to the door. Can’t be asking to leave now, can you? Or maybe you were asking for something. He was about to prompt you to finish what you’d started when you finally spoke up.

“I felt…felt really lonely today.” You murmured, looking down at the floor, at your bare feet on the cold ground. Kicked at the ground a little. “Missed you. Didn’t um…” you trailed a little, eyes wandering slightly upwards. “Didn’t know what to do.”

Huh, he thought. His heart fluttered a little at your words, making his chest feel warm and light. He smiled at you. “That’s sweet. Missed you too, missed you so much.” He said. “Was thinking of you the whole day, angel.” He was standing right above you now.

For some reason, he thought he saw you grimace a little. But it was a momentary thing. He probably imagined it. You finally looked up at him, finally made eye contact for more than a split second. He could tell you wanted to say more, that what he said wasn't exactly what you hoped for. What you did want? He didn’t know.

Looking down at you, he stared in silent anticipation, in absolute adoration. His heart fluttered. Just as he lifted his hand up to brush away a stray hair on your cheek, you leaned into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and burying your face in the dip between his neck and shoulder. He huffed in surprise a little, holding you against him as you shivered.

"Really missed me, huh?" He laughed, rubbing circles against your back. He was so happy. So happy he could die.

He held you against him until you pulled away, looking up at him with your perfect doe eyes, asking him to come to bed with you. Nothing sexual, you just wanted someone near you. His heart jumped, and so did his dick, but he nodded, willing to ignore his needs for yours. He promised to join you soon, watching you pad off to his bedroom, needing to go finish some nightly chores. He headed to his office, brain so full of rushing, giddy thoughts that he didn't notice the unusual quietness when he walked or even the strange emptiness in his back pocket.

--

You were dragging your nails down his skin like some feral animal, nose red and cheeks flushed and eyelashes all wet and matted, tears freely flowing down from your pretty doe eyes. He grabbed you from behind, placing a hand over your mouth to muffle your cries as you sobbed and weakly writhed against him. He held you close to him, hand on your face and an arm wrapped around your waist. He was about to say something, to tell you just how disappointed, how pissed off he was, when his voice caught. A minute ago, maybe two, he'd found you at 3 a.m. in the morning, fucking with his front door and his keys, you ungrateful idiot, yet here he was now, tongue tied. He barely got a syllable out before he stopped himself, cursing you when he realized he was getting all breathy, his face flushing a little, his pants growing tighter. Fuck, was he getting off to this? That’s sick. He was sick. He was getting off to the idea, no, to the sight of you choking. Made him feel all warm and fluffy inside for all the wrong reasons. Actually, he was getting off to the idea of raping someone. Jesus, Leon. Fuck. He was getting off to the idea of raping you. Damn.

He held you against his chest, staggering backwards to lean against the wall for support. He hissed curses under his breath next to your ear, warning you to keep still. He couldn't stand squirming. Made things so much more difficult. It was hot though. God damn. Fuck. Fuck. He wanted to scream. Shout at you, maybe. He didn't know. Hearing your muffled pleas, something stirred within him, pent up and tired and angry, and for some sick reason, he didn't lift his palm from your mouth, instead wrapping his arm around your neck, pressing your windpipe in between his forearm and bicep, hissing in your ear, "Shut the fuck up."

He sucked in a breath, closing his eyes, ignoring your begging and yet at the same time reveling in it. He needed to think. Needed to think about what the fuck he was doing. He felt you hiccup against him, felt your warm tears drip onto his cold skin, and Jesus Christ his dick was harder than ever. He loosened his grip on your throat, hearing you gasping for breath, not even trying to beg him to stop. He slumped a little, guilt climbing up from the depths of his wretched soul. He was still breathing hard.

When did you get his keys? He heard you sobbing apologizes now. How the fuck did you manage to snatch them without him noticing? He was running through all his interactions with you recently, unable to pinpoint when, where, how, until he remembered what happened just a couple hours ago. Oh. Oh.

"Feeling sorry, angel? Or feeling guilty?" He murmured into your ear, fighting to keep his tone flat. He was irritated enough that he had to stumble out of bed at three in the fucking morning, pissed that when he was still rubbing the blurriness from his eyes he found you trying each of his keys and still somehow failing at unlocking a fucking door, but at the same time, he was hurt, betrayed that you had tried to leave him, even entertained the passing thought of escape.

"Sorry, sorry, 'm so, so sorry," you sobbed against him, breathing erratic and your entire body shaking. What a mess. You could barely stand.

"Really?" His voice dropped. "Sorry for waking me up at three in the fucking morning? Sorry for stealing my keys? Sorry for lying to me, for betraying me?" For some reason, he couldn't feel anger at your escape attempt. Not like he wasn't angry, though. No, he was angry, but not because of that. You lied to him. Said you missed him in that sweet voice, looked up to him with those big, innocent eyes, shivered against him and said you missed him, all just for some bigger plan. He was almost disgusted.

He heard your incoherent, pathetic pleas for mercy. He wasn't hearing you out, though. He grabbed you, tossing you over his shoulders and headed to his bedroom.

He kicked the door shut and threw you down onto the mattress, watching you cry and shiver and open your mouth to scream. Nothing would come out, though. He felt his hands fumble with his belt, with his jean's zipper. He dimmed the lights. Maybe he wouldn't feel as bad if he couldn't see your face. Maybe.

He found himself crawling on top of you, slipping his hands up your shirt. He wanted to be mad, wanted to be able to take out his anger on you, choke you and slap you and bruise you and bite you, mark you as his, fuck you so hard you wouldn't ever think of escaping again, but he couldn't. He couldn't bring himself to hurt you, even when you deserved it. At least not that way. He cursed you under his breath as his hands found your breasts, kneading and grabbing and even twisting your nipple between his thumb and index. You cried out, all pathetic, squirming beneath him. His heart softened, just a little.

"Shh, don't cry. Don't cry." He murmured against your ear. He heard your loud swallows, and looking at you, looking into your eyes, he saw your lovely, naïve face twisted into one of pure terror. Maybe even disgust. He felt so bad, but it wasn't his fault. He tried to be so good to you, treat you all soft and sweet, take it real slow, make it romantic, make it easy. But he was just a man. You committed the crime. It wasn't his fault. Not his fault. He heard himself groan a little, even as your hands pitifully shoved against his chest, even as you tearfully begged him to stop. He was just a man.

The bed creaked, and you cried, and his breathing just kept getting heavier and heavier. He tried to ignore the slight tightening of his throat, the just noticeable watering of his eyes. He couldn't hurt you. He couldn't. But he was, he was hurting you in the worst way possible. His heart broke as he watched you flinch, but his dick somehow hardened every time you sobbed, as you somehow tightened with every wince.

He gripped your hips to pull you up against him with each thrust, and at the same time tried to ignore the way you gripped the sheets, knuckles white, face frozen in pain and pleasure and fear. He had to stop himself from crying a little. You felt so wonderful, though, looked so pretty, even now. He leaned his forehead against yours, felt you rock beneath him. "Sorry, 'm so sorry," he murmured with each thrust, voice clouded by lust, apologetic even as he raped you. He still loved you. Really did. But still, he didn't stop, shutting his eyes instead as if that would make all his guilt disappear.

-

You'd been acting nicer for the past two weeks. Compliant, deferent, soft and malleable. Your voice was always low, sometimes to the point he'd have to ask you to repeat. You didn't say much anymore, not like you did before. There was a heaviness in your movement, like everything you did was a struggle. He'd notice it when you woke up, with the morning light streaming in through the window, his arm wrapped around you, holding you close to him, and you just wouldn't move. He'd brush his nose against your neck, murmuring soft Good morning's and How're you feeling?'s, but you just wouldn't move. You'd sit there like a corpse, cold and apathetic, yet your flesh was still so warm and your skin so soft.

He'd wonder about that while he brewed your morning tea, watching you slump against the dining room chairs, staring out the window, staring into stillness. He'd talk to you the whole time, trying so hard to coerce some sort of response other than your one word answers or your quiet hums, but nothing would come out. Your eyes were constantly glazed over, like an unending cloudy day. It wasn't all bad, though. All those jokes about women existing to be looked at, not to be heard? You were just that. He was just a man, you know.

He came home from work a few hours ago, whistling, keys jingling as he spun them on his fingers. Now, you were curled up together on the couch, your back to his chest, engulfed by the darkness of the early winter night like a heavy blanket, your form illuminated only by the blue light of the TV. He had some random local channel on. It didn't matter. Only you mattered.

After that incident, you stopped squirming in his arms, stopped trying to escape his grip or lose his touch. Instead, you just sat there like a pretty doll, just like you were meant to. You let your entire body weight slump against him, let your head rest in the crevice between his neck and shoulders. He pet your hair, brushing his fingers through each strand, gently detangling. He wrapped his arms around your torso to hold you close to him, and he hummed in contentment. "Missed you, baby." He watched your head slowly perk up to look at him, expression all dazed and dumb. So pretty. "What'd you do today?" he murmured quietly, looking into your glassy eyes and brushing away a stray hair.

You had a neutral expression on your face as you thought the question over. It took you a few seconds to respond. "Slept."

The TV, which he vaguely recognized to be playing a news channel, buzzed in the background. He laughed a little at your response. It made him so happy that you even spoke. "Really? Slept all day, but you still look so tired." He teased, almost commenting on the growing bags beneath your eyes but holding himself back. You just nodded in response, laying your head back down on his shoulders.

One hand rubbing soothing circles on your back and the other still playing with your hair, his mind started to drift. Not to anything in particular, though. He wondered what that secretary at work was writing down, what Chris and Wesker were talking about, just little, curious things. He felt your breathing slow, and he suddenly felt so warm inside, knowing that you could fall asleep against him. His breath right against your ear, he murmured, "Night, sweetheart," and looked up at the TV, noticing a missing person's report.

A random boy returned his gaze. The camera panned to shots of a forest, and a news reporter recounted all the details. Name? Jack Reed. Age? Seven years old. Last sighting? Three days ago, heading into the woods for some reason, somewhere. Leon didn't care. What he did care about, though, was that this meant that the world had already moved on. Everyone had stopped looking. Or at least, the public gaze had already shifted. Now, they were looking for someone new. And the week after that, someone else. And with each passing week, the world would forget about you, and that just left more for him. So he just kept on brushing his fingers through your hair, humming quietly to himself. You were his girl now, his perfect, perfect girl, and maybe he hadn't made it real soft, hadn't taken it real slow, maybe even the opposite, but at least now, he could make it real sweet.

[swanlakebaby]

— missing you | pjm

prompt: seeing jimin after long distancing.

⸝⸝ pairing: bf!jimin x fem!reader

⸝⸝ warnings: smut, kissing, teasing, whispering, masturbation, sexting, dom jimin, creampie, multiple rounds, semi fluff jimin, eating out, swallowing, etc.

⸝⸝ word count: 2.3k

⸝⸝ note: this is one of my favorites that ive written so far! it was fun to write out and i tried to do something new if you couldn’t tell. i eventually want to start a series soon but im still trying to figure out the storyline for that. i hope u enjoy!

• ps: my requests are still open. (please make sure to state whether you want your request to include smut or not!)

nsfw, 18+, minors dni

-

your phone dings , your screen lighting up. you roll over and lazily grab your phone , perking up once you realize it's another notification from jimin. you sit up in the bed and look at the chat.

★ jimin - i miss you so much...

★ jimin - i keep thinking of all things i'll do to you when i get back.

you smile at the message , laying back down on the bed. you stare at the screen for a while as you think of a response. but before you could answer , another message comes through.

★ jimin - i hate this time of year. we're always working on music , which i love , but it means i have to spend time away from you for a few weeks. don't you hate it too?

☆ you - i miss you too ! i hate how cold the other side of the bed is. when are you coming home? :(

★ jimin - soon , i promise.

you grin , suddenly excited about the idea of seeing jimin. hou sit up on your knees and slowly lift your tank top. you go to the camera app and flip the camera toward you , snapping photos of your breasts. you go back to the chat and send the picture. you watch as jimin types , then stops some time after the picture is sent.

★ jimin - you look amazing. i can't wait to touch you again.

a message comes through shortly after. a picture of jimin slouched back onto his bed , his shirt and pants off. the visual of his abs and boxers made your mouth water.

for the rest of the night , you spent the entire time messaging jimin back and forth about random things. plans you had coming up , small date ideas , etc. the conversation then takes a turn as jimin goes inactive for a while. you continuously message him until coming to the conclusion that he had fallen asleep on accident. after a while , you receive a video clip from jimin. you click to watch it , unsure do what to expect.

in the same slouched position , jimin rubs his hand over his boxers , his bulge now visible. he slowly slides his hands in his boxers and takes out his cock. he was hard , firmly wrapping his hand around himself as he pans the camera up. he smirks , before lowering the angle once again. he begins to pump his cock , whimpering and moaning into the camera as he speeds up and slows down. he mumbles your name into the camera as his body stiffens , white fluids spilling out over his chest. he grunts , aggressively pumping out all of his cum until he’s empty. he let's go of his cock tiredly and shows the cum on his hand and abs.

after watching the video , you only wished he could come home sooner. in response , you lay on your back fully. panning the camera up and down your body. at this point , you only had on panties and a thin tank top. you play with your breasts in the camera for a few moments before flipping it and propping your legs up. you take two fingers and slide them down your panties. you begin recording yourself as you intensely finger yourself , the wet sounds from your vagina getting stickier.

your panties have a dark patch on them as you begin to throb and soak through them. you play with yourself for a while until eventually , your legs begin to get shaky as you throw your head back and moan into an orgasm. your body shakes as you slide your fingers deeper into you. panting , you take your fingers out and show the camera. your fingers were sticky and glossy now. you flipped the camera onto yourself and recorded yourself cleaning them up with your tongue , one of jimin's favorite things he loved seeing you do.

jimin immediately calls you after receiving the video. ''i miss you.'' was all he said. ''then come home. please.'' you whisper into the phone. without saying a word , he hangs up. you giggle , knowing that he hated being teased and now he probably had an attitude. you quickly clean yourself up and decide to finally head to sleep. the orgasm gave you a wave of uncontrollable sleepiness and you wanted nothing more than to go to bed and decided that you’d continue the conversation with jimin tomorrow.

-

you feel the other side of the bed shift as someone slides in next to you. you immediately open your eyes , making sure that it wasn’t some perverted intruder. upon seeing him , you jump into his arms as you yell out his name. “jimin!” he chuckles , pulling you into a warm embrace. he sways you as he buries his face into your neck , giving it small pecks. “i missed you so much! why are you here? how did you even get here? it feels like i just talked to you!” your heart was fluttering as the person you loved and cared about so much was literally right in front of you. he looked into your eyes deeply before speaking. “as soon as i heard the whispering , i booked my ticket and began packing. i decided to leave early.”

you couldn’t believe what you were hearing. he left his job early to come surprise you and see you. you didn’t know how to feel. “i love you so much!” you beamed. “show me.” he says , leaning back onto the bed. “you just got here.” you say , pushing at his chest. “i don’t like being teased , you know this. so show me how much you love and missed me.” he bites his lip , looking you up and down. you roll your eyes , not taking him seriously. as you attempt to get off of him , he grabs onto your waist and pulls you onto his lap. “jimin let me go.” you whine , looking out at the morning sky. he chuckles , gripping onto your waist tightly , not budging at all.

you wrap your arms around him , smiling at him. “you’re so annoying.” you mumble. “what was that?” jimin says , smirking. you hide a smile and look down. “why are you being shy?” he whispers. lifting your chin up with his index finger. you giggle nervously , unsure of what to say. “it’s been a while that’s all.”

“then let me take the lead , okay?” he gently pushes you onto your back and pushes his bulge against your thin previously soaked panties from the video. he hums as he recognizes them , pushing himself deeper against you. “i know exactly what i want to do to you.” he says in a whisper. suddenly , he grabs you and lifts you off of the bed , walking you over to the windows of your shared apartment. he stands behind you , kissing your shoulders and rubbing the sides of your body. jimin pauses for a moment , standing extremely close to the right side of your face. “will you let me show you how much i missed you?” he whispers into your ear. chills run through your body as you get excited. you don’t say anything , but you nod , giving him the go ahead. “i need words.” he says in a low voice , playing with the sides of your panties. “show me jimin.” you say.

with that that he slides down your panties , getting on his knees as he brings them all the way down to your ankles. he holds onto your butt cheeks , slowly spreading them apart as he shoves his face into them , licking your vagina in a slow pace. you place your hands onto the windows , arching your back slightly as jimin repeatedly eats at your vagina , leaving small pecks on your folds. you lift your leg a bit and jimin holds it steady. he devours you in a way you’ve never see him before. you wonder how long he’s been waiting to do this. you slowly grind against his face , small moans escaping your lips everytime his tongue grazes your clit. he then stands up and begins taking off his shirt and pants , wasting no time at all. he takes out his cock immediately and rubs himself hard.

he pushes you up against the windows , holding onto your head. he slides inside of you , not allowing you to fully adjust to the length of him. he thrusts in and out of you hungrily , grunting as your butt smacks against his lower waist. “i missed you so much.” he says out of breath , not slowing down the pace. you turns your face to face his , holding onto your neck as you stare deeply into each others eyes. you bite your lips and manage to spit out a “i missed you too.” in between breathless moans. you leave your left hand on the window , taking your right one and holding the side of his face as he pounds you aggressively , not considering the fact that neighbors could probably hear.

after a few moments , jimin stops , pulling out and cumming all over your ass. you turn your head to look as you attempt to catch your breath. he smacks your butt , making it jiggle slightly. he then grabs you and walks you over to the end of the bed. he bends you over the small bed bench. you hold onto the bench , half of your body keeping you steady on the floor , the other half of the bench. jimin holds onto your sides , fucking you. he looks over to the bedroom mirror , running his hands through his hair as he admires the view. the cum on your ass begins dripping down slowly , some of it getting messy and sticking onto jimin.

he looks down and watches his cock slide in and out of you in a fast pace as he fucks you. he grabs onto your shirt and pulls it , using it to keep his pace consistent. “i’m gonna cum again..” jimin mumbles , gripping onto you tightly. the phrase alone makes you throb , your knees buckle as the sensation of orgasming overcomes you. your body twitches as you cum all over jimin’s dick , making a sticky white mess.

small beads of sweat slide down jimin’s chest and abs. he slams into you with one final trust , not pulling out as he fills you up with his cum. you curse under his breath , feeling his cum drip out of you and into the bench. your body felt weak and tired.

jimin slides out of you and steps back. he walks over to the dresser and grabs a few napkins. he begins slowly wiping you clean , making sure to also clean up his cock. you lay there out of breath , your vagina feeling exhausted and sore. jimin teases you , rubbing his fingers along your vagina. you jolt forward , the nerves in your clit extra sensitive now. he chuckles at his , smacking your butt and helping you up off of the bench. he sits down , pulling you on top of him. his cock is still hard. you reach behind you and grab onto it , slowly stroking it. he closes his eyes and throws his head back slightly as his tip feels sensitive. without warning , you lift yourself up and slide his cock into you. he groans , opening his eyes and placing his hands around your waist. “break please.” jimin mumbles , feeling tired.

“it’s my turn.” you say. he hides a smile , leaning back and resting his back against the bed. you put your hands on his shoulders and slowly grind on him. you continue this motion for a while , looking down at jimin as he looks up at you , his eyes half lidded. he can barely muster out a moan as he just lays back and enjoys the feeling of your vagina once again. you prop yourself up on your feet and grip onto jimin’s shoulders , bouncing on his cock like never before. jimin perks up , load moans escaping his mouth. he dirty talks you , teasing you to go faster and harder on his cock.

he suddenly pushes you off , grabbing you and putting you to your knees. you open your mouth , staring up at jimin and begging him to cum for you. he grabs his cock and slaps his tip against your tongue a few times before cum starts to spill out into your mouth. once he finishes , his cock goes limp as he tries to catch his breath. he looks down at you and closes your mouth with your jaw. “swallow it.” he demands. his cum is silky and sweet as it slides down your throat. you do as he says , grabbing onto his cock and cleaning up a bit more. you teasingly begin pumping him again. he swats your hands and laughs , plopping down onto the bed bench.

“if we go again i’ll pass out.” jimin says. “but i missed you.” you kiss his jawline , wanting more. he chuckles and smiles , not taking you serious. “i need to rest before we do anything else.” you give him one final peck on the lips before standing up and grabbing a new pair of panties to wear. when you walk back into the room , jimin lays naked in the bed , drifting off to sleep. “did i put you to sleep?” you tease. he smirks. “i did most of the work. i deserve a break” he extends his arm and reaches out for you. you slide into the bed beside him and rest your head on his chest , listening to his breathing as he slowly falls asleep.

written by swanlakebaby™

[zuyoo]

linger, one-shot. ﹙ nagi & gn!reader ﹚ 비애

CONTENT WARNING — clueless nagi, (open-ended) angst, misleading actions, images used are not face claims but rather used as a reference to visualize a scenario. enjoy reading !!!! :D

SYNOPSIS — you’re in love with your best friend, nagi seishiro, who is oblivious of your feelings but treats you well more than just a friend

ZUYOO’S NOTES — noOOoO 10 images limit on tumblr mobile app ( ꒦ິ ཀ ꒦ິ ) word count is probably a little over 1000 if not more than that.. ok ily enjoy reading MWAAA

p.s. i love u, everyone who leaves feedback and/or reactions with all my life :DD it just makes me feel so motivated in writing, thank you all sm!!

it started with one message, which lead to another… then another… then more. you two instantly clicked right after being attending the same club in your university. you’ve seen him before, and thought that he looked hard to approach—since he’s always on his phone, barely talks, and is always either practicing, in class, or out of reach (in his dorm)

you two grew close after talking about similar interests, and it didn’t take too long for you to develop feelings for him. i mean… how could you not when he has treated you way better than any other man who’s walked out of you life?

he messages you on a daily basis, doesn’t hesitate to come over and take care of you when you tell him that you aren’t feeling well, treats you to meals, drives you home, tries new hobbies because you told him you like those.

nagi has the looks, the talent, the brain, the skill, the body that a girl could ask for. you’re simply lucky enough to be near his presence—and oh boy how all the girls that see you two together makes you feel it.

their glares and side glances sharp as a knife, it gave you goosebumps all over. but you eventually paid no mind to their stares, the only thing that mattered at the moment is how you’d spend your day with nagi!

it’s been three years since your first interaction with him, and you two haven’t changed a thing. take it with a grain of salt. yes, you two still teach each other the way you think, and no, he is not your anything—just a friend.

he’s such a fish to catch that you’re surprised why he’s still not seeing anyone at this point. maybe there was some point that you’ve thought about how there could be possibility that he could like you the way you like him, which is stopping him from seeing anyone else.

or maybe his actions has raised your hopes up and made you delusional. how could you know? you’ve been friends for three whole years now, yet you still can’t read him.

he left you on delivered? that’s new. well- it was bound to happen. it’s not like he’s obligated to reply or at least leave a reaction… right? right. you’re his best friend. nothing more, nothing less.

but what could he be doing? it’s a sunday. he doesn’t have practice, and the term just started. he couldn’t have had any assessments he needed to finish.

your questions were quickly answered once you’ve opened up your twitter app and found someone unfamiliar in your timeline.

“pfft—this happens all the time.” you say. “and they’re always fake.”

and how you wished you were right.

“oh.” was everything you could let out, as if that one tweet didn’t break your heart into pieces. you were glad he’s finally seeing someone—but at the same time, you had hoped that it was just a misunderstanding, that he’s actually maggy’s cousin… or something! just not her suitor. even though the signs are as clear a day.

it was petty, and this- this will hurt you, and it’ll hurt bad. so you had no other choice but to try and distance yourself away from him as much as possible, to save yourself and to respect who he’s been seeing. it was for the better… but—he was making it hard.

nagi’s completely clueless!

you didn’t know whether to laugh it out because of how oblivious he is. does he not realize what he’s doing to you?

at this point, you start to realize how none of it was your fault in the first place. you couldn’t control you feelings, and it certainly didn’t help that nagi treats you way too well.

even so, you could never blame him. it could just be in his nature, to be kind, lovable, and to be the pinnacle of a girl’s dream. and you were the one at fault because you’re taking advantage of his kindness to satisfy your curiosity regarding what it felt like being handled with genuine care, only for it to backfire—seeing that you actually fell for him big time.

still, that wasn’t your first train of thought when you met him. you genuinely wanted to be friends because he seemed like a cool guy. it just so happens that your heart begun to agitate more and more everyday when you’re with him.

or maybe it was maggy’s fau—oh my god, make up your mind, yn!!

“let’s not put the blame on everyone. whatever happened, happened. none of it matters now. i just have to get myself out of this mess… then i’ll be back to same, old me. right.” you thought to yourself.

you have been ignoring nagi for the past three days, leaving him on delivered, and practically scrambling away when you see him in the hallways—or everywhere, actually.

did you tell him why you’re doing this? no, why would you?

does he care? a lot, as a friend, most likely.

he’s been trying to reach you for the past 3 days, while you were off running everywhere but to the places you and nagi went to together, which is hard because you’ve both been to every cafe, every movie theater, every arcade, every mall your city could offer.

there was this one place you two haven’t been in yet. it was perfect for admiring the view below, or simply a place to just clear your mind.

you planned on going there after classes were over, and it made you quite excited. you were supposed to go here with nagi but… you know, things happened. nonetheless, you wanted to enjoy this, even if it meant not being able to bring nagi with you.

after class ended, you bid your farewell to your friends before getting into a cab and going to the rooftop lounge that recently just opened.

you opened the door that leads to the lounge and was surprised by what greeted you at the door.

it was nagi, with maggy. their hands intertwined as they admire the city.

ouch. seeing them like that felt like ten thousand trains running me over.

you were about to leave when you heard her call for your name. you froze on the spot, a course of thoughts ran through your brain on whether to run for it, or play a good face and not ignore her calls.

“y/n! come join us.”

you made the decision to turn around and approach them instead… she waved and smiled at you. god—how can you make such a lovely woman?!

it was too late to run anyways, you felt their eyes on you when you froze by the door, it would be far too embarrassing to just leave with them knowing that you heard maggy call for you.

“hey, i couldn’t reach you.”

nagi greeted. you briefly glanced into his eyes and gave him a smile before breaking eye contact. you could barely look into his eyes—you might burst out crying if you stare any longer.

“i was busy.”

you replied, dryly. you really were busy; busy with assessments, busy distracting yourself from your feelings, busy doing whatever it takes to forget about nagi… but if you two keep meeting like this—and if he keeps trying to talk to you, it will pose a challenge for you to fully move on.

why do you have to let it linger? you ask him in your mind as if he could read it. his constant concern for your wellbeing, his actions towards you, his daily messages checking up on whether you’ve eaten your meals yet—why does he have to let your feelings for him linger?

unknowingly, sure. but has he have not a single clue on why you’ve been distancing yourself? on why you haven’t been hanging around much?

you missed him, really. but this was the perfect distance for you both. he can keep reaching out until the day he gets sick of it; but as much as you want to respond to him, you can’t—you shouldn’t.

the following months were practically the hell. you’ve completely cut off contact with him (you ghosted him, basically) and was buried in a never-ending cycle of homework and projects, leaving no time for anything else.

when the semester ended, your friend, bachira, invited you to his party. he noticed that you were completely restless and said that you needed to loosen up a little.

it was 12 in the evening but the party has just begun—you could consider yourself a fan of staying at home in my comfy pajamas and old indie movies, rather than a party ‘til sunrise & drink ‘til you drop type of person… which lead you to excusing yourself out of the room with flashing lights and booming music to find somewhere else more peaceful to drink.

you found yourself on a huge balcony with a red cup on your hand. thank the gods that the doors muffles out the noise coming from the inside.

this was just right. and honestly what you needed. all that workload from the past few weeks has been killing you.

what you didn’t expect was for someone to break the silence you gave yourself.

“it was about time i saw you again. and out of all the places i thought i would see you in, a party was not one of them.”

nagi spoke nonchalantly. his sudden interjection jolted you out of your own thoughts. it’s been about six months since you’ve broke off contact with him. hell, you could barely remember his voice.

“oh fuc-… ah. i’m sorry- i should find another place.”

“no. stay. you owe me an explanation.”

maybe it was just you, but given where this conversation is headed… he sounded intimidating. his voice didn’t change much, perhaps it didn’t change at all, but you heard the sharpness of his words and felt the need to comply to whatever he says.

“sorry.”

“sorry doesn’t cut it, y’know?”

he lightly chuckled before mixing his drink around his own red cup that he brought.

“right… sorry. but, how are you? how’s maggy?”

“ah. it didn’t work out. she’s nice but it really isn’t working out for us.”

“oh. sorry.”

that was a surprise. you thought they’d still be all lovey-dovey with each other. maggy is a lovely girl, what could’ve gotten wrong?

“another apology and i’ll keep bothering you. you wouldn’t like that won’t you? considering how you’ve completely ghosted me for 6 months without an explanation or even a subtle hint of why you did it? right?”

“hey-!”

okay… maybe he hasn’t changed that much. he still holds his grudges. nagi broke eye contact and looked up to the moon with this… yearning look on his face—he looked so pretty, it was pathetic!!

a sigh left your lips before nervously starting to explain you side, since you felt like he really needed to know why. plus, it was a good chance to let go of that burden.

maybe a confession was nagi’s needed closure, and your way of letting go of the guilt of knowing you’ve randomly disappeared in his life without him even knowing anything.

“i like… liked. you, nagi. more than a friend should’ve.”

“what?”

his actions came to a halt. oh, he was THAT clueless

“aha—yeah… but then there came maggy. she was such a lovely person, and i know you deserved to be loved like that. i should’ve been happy for you, but i really couldn’t bring myself to. it hurts seeing my best friend whom i’ve liked for the longest time smile because of a person they’re romantically involved with, y’know?”

you weren’t able to find the strength to look at him as you explained, but it felt like a weight was lifted off of your shoulders after.

“i-”

“no, don’t say anything. i just really needed to let that out… for your sake, and mine. i also wanted to thank you. y’know—for everything. you’ve been a great best friend, nagi.”

“okay but-”

he didn’t get to say whatever he wanted to say because the door that leads to the party suddenly opened, revealing a tipsy bachira.

“y/n!! here you are~ and nagi too!!”

bachira gleefully said before dragging y/n back inside, leaving nagi alone in the balcony.

he watched your figure get lost in the crowd of people partying without end, saying:

“ah-… i liked you…too?”

© zuyoo — do not copy, plagiarize, or translate my work without my permission. i only upload my work in tumblr.

[cottonlemonade]

How You Met

word count: 832 || avg. reading time: 4 mins.

pairing: post-time skip Kenma x chubby!Reader feat. Kuroo (as The Wingman™ doing the most)

genre: fluff

warnings: none

____________________________________________

“You need to get out more. Don’t you ever miss the sun and …”, Kuroo looked around his friend’s gaming room, noting empty take-out containers and energy drinks and balled up socks, “fresh air?”

“No.“, Kenma simply said as he rifled through the games on his computer, trying to decide which one he would stream tonight.

“Come on, let‘s go out. Not for a drink or anything, just for a walk.“

Kenma knew he wouldn‘t be able to hold out long against Kuroo‘s incessant pleas that were bound to follow and so he gave a demonstrative sigh and got up, ignoring the other‘s wide grin.

“Now isn‘t this nice?“, Kuroo took a deep breath of the crisp evening air.

Kenma just looked at his phone and tapped on a nearby checkpoint collecting his rewards.

“It‘s raining.“

“Hardly, drizzling at best. Do you wanna check out that new restaurant that just opened up?“

“No, let‘s go back home. We can order food.“

“We‘ve barely been out five minutes.“

That was already 5 times longer than Kenma preferred in a week.

“Look, the app says there is an event in the park over there. Why don‘t we check it out?“

Lured with the promise of a good game, Kenma shuffled after Kuroo, not hiding a groan of contempt that made Kuroo laugh, “Just like the good old days!“

According to the app the upcoming battle would take place at a fountain in the middle of the small aforementioned park. Only a few other people were already waiting there, periodically checking their phones for the event timer.

Kenma looked around, already thinking about what food he craved once he was back in his warm and cozy house.

There were two young school boys who, in Kuroo‘s opinion, should have gone to bed long ago, another man a little older than him - and you. You stood under a cream coloured umbrella, concentrating on your phone like the others. A fluffy white dog sat at your feet, leaning close to stay dry.

You looked really cute, stunningly cute actually, as far as he could tell in the dim light of the street lanterns, subdued by the misty air. The washed out video game shirt was tied to a knot at your hips, hugging your curvy shape. You reminded him of the big bunny plushie he had gotten a few years ago as part of a game promotion.

The event finally began. He tried to keep his focus on the game but snuck curious looks every now and then across the fountain. Did you live around here, too? How had he never seen you bef- oh, right.

After a few short minutes it was already over and everyone went their separate ways.

“So, what do you wanna have for dinner? Kenma? Hello? Hm?“

Kuroo‘s eyes followed the gaze of his friend and grinned when he spotted you, digging around in your bag.

“Kenma-kun?“, he said teasingly, leaning closer to his friend‘s ear, “You still with us?“

“Huh?“

The younger one snapped out of his daze.

“Why don‘t you go talk to her?“

“Talk to who?“

“Her.“, Kuroo nodded in your direction.

“Why would I?“

“Oh geez, I dunno. Because you‘re staring and for you that is basically equivalent to Tora salivating.“

“Am not.“, Kenma muttered defensively and hated that his ears turned hot.

“Uh huh. Hey, excuse me!”, Kuroo ignored the panicked tug on his jacket when he called out to you.

You looked up, then at them, looked around in confusion, then pointed at yourself.

“Yes.”, Kuroo called with a bright confident smile and walked over to you, Kenma who was still holding onto his jacket followed, but quickly let go before you noticed.

You seemed a bit worried at the tall figure calling out to you randomly in a park but calmed when he asked, “Did you score anything good?” He pointed to your phone.

“Oh. Yes, yes I did.” You turned your phone to show off the rewards.

“Nice. Didn’t you say you got something good, Kenma?”

The younger one nodded and turned his screen for you to see.

“Wow, lucky!”

“I’m Kuroo. This is Kenma.”

“Nice to meet you, I’m (y/n).”

Silence followed.

“And who is this?”

Kuroo pointed at the dog to your feet that sniffed his foot quizzically.

“That’s Plume. I named her after -“

“The berserker in Cloak and Dagger II.“, Kenma finished.

His ears turned hot again when your face lit up.

“Yes! Oh my god, I never met anyone offline who knows the game!“

Silence fell again, Kuroo tapped his foot impatiently.

“Hey, Kenma, isn‘t Cloak and Dagger a multiplayer game?“

“Yeah.“, Kenma replied, weirdly annoyed that his friend would ask such a dumb obvious question in front of you.

Another short stretch of silence.

Kuroo sighed. “Why don‘t you two exchange tags then? You could play together.“

“Oh! That would be great, but I mean, of course you don‘t have to.“, you said quickly.

“Oh no, he wants to.“

____________________________________________

a/n: let‘s just pretend the picture is post-time skip - also this game is entirely made up and it took me way too long to think of a name

[gweninred]

OMFG HEAR ME OUT I've been thinking about this for a while now and I'm going insane.

Reader organizes a very romantic dinner (candlelight, ambient music and all that), making Melissa's favorite dish, getting her flowers..

. and THEN reader gets on Mel's lap and end up giving her lap dance and just makes Melissa feel good and fucking her silly till she's absolutely spent..

ok im gonna go hide now..

Taking care of

I love this request! I’m not comfortable writing smut, so I won’t be writing that part, I’m sorry. Just leave the last part to your imaginations 😭 I hope you like it anyway and thank you for requesting!

-

You placed the flowers you had bought for your favourite redhead in a vase. White tulips. You set them on the middle of the dining table, then starting to make dinner, gnocchi. Once again Melissa’s favourite. She had thought you how to made some of her famous Italian dishes. Following her family recipe you had saved in your notes app to make the dish. You noticed your girlfriend was quite stressed lately, ever since she had to teach two grades, she would come home extremely stressed and exhausted from her day at work. But the oh-so good girlfriend you are, will always be there for her to comfort her and help her relax.

By the time you had finished dinner you had placed it in the oven to keep it warm until the redhead will be coming home. You made sure to light up some scented candles, switch the big lights off and turn on some slow romantic music.

“Baby?” Melissa shouted after banging the front door close. You could hear her bag drop on the floor. “I’m upstairs!” Stroking your hands down your sides you looked at the dress through the mirror. A hum of approval came from the teacher as she peaked her head through the opening of the doorway. “Looks good on ya.” You smiled. “There you are, honey.” You wrapped her arms around her neck, pulling her close. Her arms found its way around your waist, kissing the side of your face. “I missed you.” She murmured against your neck.

“Come with me.” You pulled away to grab her hand, leading her downstairs. You made her sit down at the table.

“I called your mom to get the recipe. I know you’ve thought me how to make it but I kind of forgot.” You giggled, placing the redhead’s favourite dish in front of her.

“This is so thoughtful and sweet, honey.” Melissa grabbed your hand from across the table, she kissed your knuckles. “And you got me my favourite flowers.” Another kiss was placed on your hand.

“I hope it’s good, I don’t want you to break up with me for making the sauce wrong.” You joked, Melissa’s gaze softened.

“Of course not.” She was in a sweet mood, you cooking her favourite dish and getting her flowers clearly did something to her. “Well, I’m not sure nonna is going to let you marry me actually.”

“Oh, hush now, eat.” You popped open a bottle of red wine, pouring two glasses. “Barolo.” You took a sip, humming at the taste. You had bought the bottle of wine on your vacation in Italy, saving it for a special occasion to open the bottle. “And? Would Nonna approve?” Melissa chuckled, her mouth stuffed.

“I think she would, you nailed that.” Proud of yourself you take a bite, nodding in approval.

After dinner Melissa insisted to do the dishes, her filling the dishwasher while you cleaned the rest of the kitchen. “I made dessert for us too, but we can eat that later tonight, I’m full.” The redhead pinned you against the kitchen counter. “Me too.” Her voice was raspy, one hand resting on the side of your face her other hand leaning on the counter, keeping you trapped. Her hand moved in your hair, brushing it through her fingers. Your eyes lingered down to her lips. Closing the gap between you, the teacher kissing you. You caressed her curves.

“I missed the taste of your lips.” You murmured against her lips, kissing her again.

Then Melissa pulled away, to sit down again. “Hey! Get back here.” You whined. A chuckle was heard from your girlfriend. You followed the other woman, taking a seat on her lap. “I’m so lucky to have you, you’re so good to me, honey.” She placed her hands on your thighs kissing you. The kiss was heated and became sloppy.

“No, I’m so lucky to have you!” You pulled away to push your pointer finger against her chest, the redhead giggling. “Just let me make you feel good.” You whispered in her ear, then biting it slightly. Melissa had to drawn back a groan. You got up from her lap and went to stand behind her. Your hands placed on her shoulders, you glide your hands over her breast down to her waist. Melissa placed her hands over your guiding them over her body. Your head was next to hers, kissing her neck.

“You have no idea what you are doing to me.” She rasped out, leaning back into your touch. “What am I doing to you?” You walked around her, taking a seat on her lap again, Melissa’s hands immediately grasping your butt. “You are driving me wild.” She went to kiss you again.

“Have me just like this.”

[everlastlady]

Cuddles & Rain

☕┆ Author's Note: Hello! My little imps, demonic sinners, & powerful overlords. Welcome back! To another story a cute little short one. Cuddles and rain, I choose my favorite overlords because why not. So I hope you enjoy this story. Included Rosie because a lot of people forget she's an Overlord but I can't wait to see her again when Hazbin Hotel comes out.

☕┆ Story Contains: Cuddles, Rain, & Wholesome

☕┆ Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

☕┆ Word Count: 706

🦌Alastor: It had been raining today. You stood by the window drinking tea. You were watching the rain fall and let out a soft sigh. You loved watching the rain fall, but you missed Alastor. You knew your goofy chaotic boyfriend was busy helping at the Hotel, but only for his gain but you didn’t dabble in Alastor’s games. You spent the day cleaning, eating, and just doing your own thing. You lay on the couch, watching a movie, and drinking hot chocolate. You heard the door open and looked over hearing Alastor’s hums fill the apartment. He looked at you and smiled. “ Hello! My beautiful little doe eyes. “ Alastor said. He walked over and placed a kiss on your head. “ Enjoying cocoa and watching a movie? Here let me join, I’m freezing my behind off. Charlie dearest had us do some team bonding and Angel got touchy but let us just say he won’t be touching, anything for a while. “ Alastor said with a laugh. He got on the couch with you and wrapped himself in your blanket. He slides you on top of him and cuddles you. “ I’ve missed you, I’m sorry my little games keep me away from you. “ He said softly and gave you a couple of kisses on the cheek. The two of you cuddle after the movie ended. Alastor wanted to listen to his radio, but he still held you close. Just you, Alastor, and the sounds of the radio that you both listen to.

📺Vox: You were sitting on the couch reading a book. It had been raining outside so you cancelled your plans. So you could enjoy your book and the rain. You always loved the rain. It made you feel calm and at peace sometimes. You wish that it could rain and your boyfriend Vox did make you an app that makes rain noises. You heard footsteps while you were reading, but you didn’t look up from your book. But you saw those blue claws blocking your page. You looked up to see your boyfriend. “ Hello, my dear, I’m home early the meeting with the Vs’ was short which is great, Valentino was getting annoying. “ Vox mumbled and sat next to you while picking up your legs and dropping them in his lap. “ What are you reading? “ He asked while releasing his claws on your book. You told them the name of your book and Vox tilted his head. “ Sounds interesting, do you mind reading to me? My love. “ Vox said while smiling at you, his screen glitched a bit. You smiled and nodded your head. You laid on top of Vox and curled up on him, you started from the beginning so that he wouldn’t be confused. Vox was interested in the story and loved the way you read. Just you, Vox, and the book that you both read.

🍖Rosie: You were in the kitchen and had just finished making cookies. It was raining outside so you decided to bake some baked goods. You knew Your girlfriend Rosie was at work. And you loved to just bake, it was a hobby that you and Rosie shared. You both didn’t buy any baked goods the only time you both did. Was if you were both eating out. You walked into the living room and saw Rosie lighting the fireplace. She turned around and smiled at you. “ Hello, my sweetpea, I just got home, I smell something delicious and I know it's not just you. “ She said with a sweet giggle. You told Rosie that you were making cookies. This made your darling girlfriend happy. You walked away and came back with a plate of cookies. “ I’ll make us some tea, you can't have cookies without tea. “ She said happily and walked into the kitchen. You sat on the couch eating the cookie and after a while, Rosie returned with two cups of tea. She sat next to you and pulled you close. She was drinking her tea while rubbing your arm. You both eventually end up cuddling after finishing off the cookies and tea. Rosie wipes a crumb from the corner of your mouth and kisses you. Just you, Rosie, and the sweet treats you both enjoyed.

[suzayaaa]

AQUAMAN - 태용

pairing: taeyong x gn!reader

word count: 1.2k

theme: fluff, some angst?, non-idol!taeyong, meet cute

warnings: none

suza’s note: this idea has been on my mind for almost 2 weeks so i decided to do something about it

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Your first date.

Not the first one in your life, but the first one after you graduated—now you have your degree and must live like a responsible adult.

The subconscious pressure from your friends with all sorts of relationships was slowly leaving a mark on you and you finally decided to do something about it.

The truth about adulthood relationships is, it’s not easy to get into one. Social life drastically decreases after college, unless you’re a social butterfly or actively make an effort to meet new people. Now you just work, rest, complain, and occasionally see one of your friends if you’re both available—meeting someone new is almost impossible.

That’s why, to make that bold move of meeting a potential boyfriend, you downloaded a dating app. Finding someone decent was a challenge in itself, but you think you did it and now, congrats! Here you are, waiting for someone you know nothing about.

Not so responsible of you.

An aquarium seems like a perfect place for a first date. Sweet, romantic, calming, and a little bit mysterious aura ties perfectly with a situation you’re about to be in. You two had decided to meet directly at a place, and because you’re a little bit early, you sit on a bench in front of the entrance and wait.

You don’t know what to expect. The truth is, you don’t really care about having a boyfriend right now. Of course, having someone you love and adore is always nice, but it’s not your priority at this moment in life. You’re doing well on your own; you have a stable job that doesn’t suck and are able to live comfortably. The only reason you’re here is your friends. Even though at first it was nice to hear their love stories and see their relationships blooming, sometimes even into marriage, now you feel like you’re missing out.

You play games on your phone to let go of the thoughts and pass the time and when another ad pops up you check the time. Your date should’ve been there 20 minutes ago.

You look around, squinting your eyes, as you wonder what to do. Your enthusiasm for this date already decreased, but it would be a shame to go home when you’re in a beautiful place like that.

Maybe if you text him you will know where you stand. You fix your hair and open the dating app, you realize.

He had blocked you.

Your lips press into a tight line as your head falls to your feet. You expected many things, but not this. A part of you feels disappointed—after all, you made an effort. You took time to look good and come here. But again, it’s a dating app. Most of the time it goes wrong than it doesn’t, so you shouldn’t be surprised.

As you take your things and get up from the bench, a man approaches you.

“Hi, um, I’m Taeyong.” He fiddles with his fingers, flowers in his hand.

You give him an up-and-down stare, glancing at the tattoos peeking out of his white tank top, and raise your eyebrows. “Okay…”

“We were supposed to meet there, at 5 pm, you know?” He gulps at your blank expression. “Wait, are you–” his eyes widen when he realizes you’re not the person he’s talking about– “I’m sorry, I think I confused you with someone else. It was meant to be a blind date, but I think I was stood up.” He embarrassingly scratches his head and gives you the cutest stare you have seen a human give.

You laugh and cover your mouth with your hand. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you, it’s just,” you brush your hand through your hair and smile shyly, “I’m in the same situation.”

“Really?” you stare at each other awkwardly as you burst into laughter together. When your giggles stop, he looks at you for a moment and bites his lip. “So if we’re both alone, maybe you wanna go with me?” He tilts his head and points at the aquarium with his thumb.

You watch him sway on his feet and realize how handsome he is. The sharp jaw and soft eyes waiting for your response, the bleached hair slowly flowing with the wind, the effortless outfit adding to his confidence, and the numerous tattoos on his arms and chest. He looks like he was sculpted by angels and his comfortable aura adds to the image even more.

You smile, feeling your cheeks get hot. “Yeah, I do. Let’s go.” He breaks out into a grin and you both head into the building.

“Here, have them.” He hands you the flowers with a light blush on his face as you accept them.

As you explore the aquarium, you talk about everything—yourselves, your daily lives and dreams, funny stories, anything you can think of. Taeyong turns out to be a very interesting person; not only because of his appearance. His shy yet confident attitude, his anecdotes about some fish swimming around you, the attentive stare and soft smile every time you speak, even the little scar next to his eye you are yet scared to ask about. His whole being allures you.

Taeyong makes you feel relaxed and at ease, so much so that you’re glad your initial date stood you up. If the other guy showed up, you probably wouldn’t met Taeyong. And you would regret it so much if you didn’t. His quiet voice and the dark neons gracing his features put you under a spell, even the colorful creatures and the mystical atmosphere of the water surrounding you can’t take your focus away from him.

The time spent with Taeyong feels like magic and you don’t realize when you’re back at the entrance of the aquarium.

“So you’re a fish surgeon?” You ask with raised eyebrows, already seeing the place you were waiting at two hours ago.

“Ah, but it was only one time.” He throws his head back with a laugh.

“Still, that’s impressive.” You look at him, wondering how can one man have so many talents.

The soft wind hits your skin as you walk out of the building and notice the multiple reds and purples covering the sky.

“Well,” you turn to him, looking back at the building, “thank you. That was a great date.”

“Yeah, it was.” He licks his lips and plays with the rings decorating his fingers, looking everywhere but your eyes. You watch him with a smirk and wait until he finally squeezes the words out of himself. “So, if it wasn’t that bad, maybe you would like to do this again sometime?” He gives you the sweetest puppy eyes ever and you can’t help but laugh again.

“I would.”

He breathes out sharply and laughs too. You exchange your numbers and slowly distance yourself from the aquarium in a comfortable silence.

“Do you want me to drive you home?” Taeyong asks as you walk up to the street.

“Yeah, why not.”

You both grin at each other and walk towards his car, and you make a mental note to thank your friends for unconsciously forcing you into a blind date; into meeting Taeyong.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

[universitypenguin]

Chapter 26

Summary: Princess makes a worrying discovery while looking through Lloyd’s briefcase. Zach and Lloyd search Copper Ridge Quarry and have an argument. Meanwhile, Princess becomes entangled in the issue of a spy operating inside of Bishop & Howard.

Word Count: 5,024

Warnings: This story contains content that is intended for those who are at least eighteen years old, such as explicit sexual content, strong language, references to spying, murder, kidnapping and criminal elements. 

Masterlist

Author’s Note: I did get this chapter published today as promised but editing took a really long time because it snowed here today, which was really depressing for me (come on, it’s March, give me sunshine) so I was feeling very unmotivated and lazy.

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

Chapter Twenty-Six

As promised, you reviewed the footage of Nguyen’s interrogation. Two moments raised red flags. The first occurred when Lloyd mentioned Tate Corbin’s witness statement. From his previous interviews and court testimonies, you knew Nguyen wasn’t easily drawn into speculation, but the topic of his neighbor’s observations caused an abrupt change in his demeanor. Suddenly, he was eager to speculate. You marked the timestamp and wrote a note for Lloyd. The second red flag was more significant. As an interrogation subject, Nguyen was usually willing to answer questions, though the quality of his responses varied. That said, an outright refusal to respond was rare; in fact there was only one instance where it cropped up. 

When questioned about his former colleague who testified against him at trial his evasion stood out sharply in contrast to his typical style of guarded cooperation. It caught your attention, so you annotated that spot as well. Nothing in particular jumped out at you as significant in the rest of the footage, but watching it all together, it irked you that Nguyen hesitated to challenge his colleague’s testimony. Most murder suspects protested vehemently when confronted with false accusations.

The fact that Nguyen didn’t was unsettling. 

A staccato rap of knuckles on your door startled you from your musings. Landon stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow when he saw you massaging your temples. 

“Headache?” 

"Yeah. Re-watching Nguyen's interview is driving me nuts."

"Skip the aspirin this time."

You snorted. "Never again. What's up?"

"Jake and I have a stakeout. Need a ride home?"

"No. Lloyd's my ride, whenever he gets back."

"Text if you need us. Remember the silent alarm triggers are under the receptionist’s desk and in Zach’s office. He showed you?"

"Yeah, he did. Thanks."

- - - - - 

After the guys left, the office was silent. You finished reviewing the interview footage and made an attempt at Lloyd’s strategy of listening to the interview audios alone, which proved fruitless. The audio alone was too dull to be endured. After saving your notes to the shared drive, you strolled around the office to stretch your legs. It was nearly nine o’clock, and there was still no word from Lloyd or Zach. You opened the tracking app on your phone and verified their location in the woods near Copper Ridge Quarry.

You needed a distraction, so you poked around in the share drive and read the report Lloyd had filed on his meeting with Tate Corbin. When you clicked through the attachments for his handwritten notes nothing came up. There were no attachments anywhere in his last few uploads so they hadn’t been filed mistakenly. Your gaze landed on the hazelnut leather briefcase he’d left beside your desk. After a brief debate, you decided he wouldn’t mind. It wasn’t snooping if there was a purpose, right? You lifted the briefcase to your desk and took a deep, steadying breath. As you unzipped the main compartment, your phone rang, making you almost jump out of your skin.

Jen’s face flashed on the caller ID.

You sank back against the cushioned backrest of your chair and answered. “Hey, Jen. What’s up?”

“Not much, just checking in. How’s working from home?”

"It’s different. Kind of boring, but I’m getting a lot done.” 

“I haven’t seen much of Lloyd around the office lately. Is he working from home, too?” 

“He’s been doing a lot of field work,” you said, ducking the question.

“Mmmhh, really throwing himself into it, is he?”

Knowing Jen as long as you had, the dry tone of her voice tipped you off that she wouldn’t let the matter of Lloyd's absence go. She’d poke and prod and side-step you down the garden path until she had an explanation. You should’ve anticipated that the cover story Bishop had spread around the office, spinning your attack as a slip and fall by the pool, wouldn’t pass the smell test with Jen. 

“Yeah. Things picked up a bit in the investigation… uh, new leads….” 

“I’ve always appreciated that Lloyd goes after things like a force of nature.”

“Have you?” You raised an eyebrow, reaching into the front divider of Lloyd’s briefcase and pulling out a stack of files. The third degree was coming, and you knew it.

“He takes the bull by the horns,” Jen said.

“Interesting. Are you developing a soft spot for Lloyd?”

Jen snorted. “He’s right up there with Hawaiian pizza in my book.”

You laughed, flipping through the files. None of them were related to the Harmony case, so you set them aside and searched the second pocket in the briefcase.

“Wanna know something else about Lloyd?” you teased, hoping to distract Jen.

“Hmmm?”

“I only found this out recently, but he actually was a cowboy.”

“Are you for real?”

“Would I lie to you? He called me when he was in Idaho and told me about herding cattle and roping and my ovaries almost exploded.”

“I love that for you. Did he bring you pictures? Also, does this have anything to do with his odd choice of facial hair?”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“Right, you’re too young to remember Westerns. You know the old movies about Doc Holliday, The Sundance Kid, Wyatt Earp…? I could go on, but you get the point.”

“I’ll have to ask him,”

“How’s your neck?” Jen asked.

“A lot better.”

You cringed, waiting for the attack to begin. 

“Mmmhh. Glad to hear it.” 

There was a long pause and you held back, distracting yourself from the temptation of talking by opening the next compartment of Lloyd’s briefcase. There was a padfolio and a few more files. You opened one of them and found insurance paperwork for a 1971 Mercury Cougar. 

“Listen, I heard about your fall by the pool from Bishop, and I know it was bullshit. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t really talk about it, Jen. I’m sorry.” 

“Talk about what, exactly?”

“Jen… I can’t tell you what’s going on, okay?”

“Is it personal? Professional? Does it have something to do with Lloyd?”

You blew out a breath, considering your answer. The stalking was personal, but the IP address that the stalker had used to hack your work laptop was definitely professional. If he’d hack your laptop, who was to say he hadn’t tapped Jen’s work line, too?

“I’m dealing with some personal stuff.”

“And you were in the hospital twice this past month. There was an ER visit at Georgetown University Hospital and another in Harmony.”

“How do you know about those?” you demanded.

“Your apartment building forwarded over a stack of mail. I saw the medical bills and figured they were ER visits, thanks for confirming, though. I didn’t actually open them.”

“I can’t share it yet, but me staying out of the office is what’s best for right now.”

“Why were you in the hospital?” Jen asked.

You rubbed your forehead and wondered why you chose to develop friendships with people who had the personalities of Jack Russell Terriers. “I hurt my neck, just like Bishop said. The other one was for a medication reaction, but it turned out fine.”

“Fine? But who picked you up from the hospital? Did you call your Mom? Never mind, don’t answer that, I know you didn’t. Have you told your Mom what’s going on?”

Jen meant well, and you knew that, but she’d never comprehend that your Mom didn’t take her responsibilities as a parent to heart the same way Jen did. 

“I didn’t tell her I was in the hospital because it’s just not something she could handle. She’s kind of high strung,” you gently reminded her. “Lloyd drove me home both times.”

“So, Lloyd is taking care of you? Adequately?”

You rolled your eyes at her suspicious tone. “Yes, he’s shockingly good at playing nurse. And he can cook.”

“Thank goodness, I’ve been worried that you were subsisting on takeout alone.”

“I’m sorry I haven’t been in touch,” you said.

“Mmmhh. Well. I’m not trying to be pushy, honest. I just… worry about you.”

“I know that, Jen. Give me some time, okay? I’ll tell you everything when I can and hopefully I won’t seem like such an asshole then.” 

“You’re not capable of being an asshole except when you’ve been provoked to it,” Jen said. “That’s why I’ve been so worried.”

“Thank you.”

You picked up another file that had been in Lloyd’s briefcase and leafed through it. Once you realized that it was a copy of Joe Hansen’s will, you snapped it shut. Jen’s voice morphed into the background as she turned the conversation to a recap of current affairs at the law firm. Why was Lloyd still carrying a copy of his father’s will? On a scale of one to ten, how much of a violation of privacy would it be to read… maybe just the first page? The first few pages? Your internal debate was interrupted by a gasp from Jen. 

“I almost forgot to tell you! I met Mr. Howard the other day!” 

“Mr. Howard?” You drew a blank, having been more preoccupied with the will than the conversation. 

“Wilson Howard? The other half of Bishop & Howard? The infamously silent and absent founding partner of B&H…?” 

“You’re kidding!” 

“No, it was crazy, like stumbling on a unicorn on a jogging trail. He actually came into the office.”

“Why did he come in?”

“Because of you,” Jen said. 

“What did I do?!” 

“Remember the emails that you forwarded to HR? The ones from Westin Tafferty? According to the grape vine, they made their way up to Bishop, who responded by siccing Mr. Howard on Westin.”

“Oh, shit.”

Jen chuckled at your dismay. “He was here all morning and met with paralegals to get the tea on Westin before coming to visit me. He asked about you.”

“This is not good.”

“Relax,” Jen said. “He just wanted to know if Westin had harassed the whole paralegal department, or if he’d focused on you. And you’ll never guess what else I found out…”

“I’m afraid to ask,” you said.

Jen snickered. “Per Mr. Howard, there was a conversation between Mr. Bishop and Lloyd a month ago where Lloyd threatened to ‘use the Geneva Conventions as a to-do list’ if Westin kept bothering you.” 

You buried your head in your hands, groaning, while Jen laughed.

“Anyways, after he’d interviewed the team he went down to HR and had a two hour chat with Westin, who denied everything, but given that it was a two hour meeting, I think we can guess how that went.”

“No one called me about this.”

“You’d already done your part by reporting him,” Jen said. “Also, according to my sources, Westin left that meeting looking very rattled.” 

“I almost feel bad for him.”

“Ugh. Get a grip and cut that out, girl. You have no idea how incredibly therapeutic it was for the whole paralegal department to vent about Westin. The best part was that Mr. Howard just listened and took notes. If a man ever listened to me that attentively on a date, I’d jump his bones.”

You commiserated with her about Westin, and let the conversation drift back to the latest gossip from the office. When you finally hung up, you stood over the mess on your desk and examined the damage. It was littered with a treasure trove of mundane artifacts - five khaki file folders, a tin of mints, sticky notes, a travel tube of cologne, a power bank and phone charger, airpods, reading glasses, and three hundred dollars in cash. The files were what drew your eye. 

Curiosity was killing you, especially about Joe Hansen’s last will and testament, but you forced yourself to set them aside. It would be a betrayal of trust and if the situation were reversed, you’d be offended if Lloyd went through your private documents without asking. You surveyed the items you’d strewn over the desk from Lloyd’s briefcase and sighed, dipping your hand into the last, smaller back pocket of the briefcase in search of the missing interview notes. Your fingers brushed against paper and for a moment, excitement surged, but instead of papers you pulled out an envelope. 

Inside were three laminated bookmarks.

They were delicate and beautiful. One featured a bold splash of golden petals with a dark center like a miniature sun in bloom - a long stemmed Black-Eyed Susan. The other two flowers weren’t familiar. You inspected the bookmark that contained pale lavender flowers with tinges of blue, then examined the third marker, which featured pink petaled blossoms. Frustratingly, it was another flower you didn’t recognize. The pink flower reminded you of Prairie Phlox and Fire Pink, except to the best of your knowledge, no one had ever crossed those plants. There was no receipt in the envelope but when you flipped it over, the outside read: “Josephine.” 

Your eyebrows raised. Josephine? Who the hell was Josephine? Why had she given Lloyd pressed flower bookmarks, and more confusingly, why had he accepted them?

It crossed your mind a second later that the floral bookmarks might be a gift for you. That was a logical enough explanation but it didn’t hold up to closer inspection. Lloyd took pride in being an excellent gift-giver. He knew your tastes, interests, and preferences. The bookmark with the Black-Eyed Susans would be the kind of gift he would give you, but the other two were decidedly not. 

Using the plant identification app on your phone, you scanned the bookmarks to identify the flowers. The lavender flower was Common Camas and the pink was Elkhorn Clarkia. You didn’t recognize either name and when you checked the map of their native range, it made sense why you wouldn’t - they were native to the upper Northwest. Lloyd must have gotten these in Idaho. Frowning at the bookmarks, your mood slid from confused to suspicious, then darkened. 

Your chest was tight and your heart pounded out a chorus of eighth notes, turning your skin hot. The floral bookmarks weren’t something Lloyd would keep without a good reason. On the envelope, you inspected the handwriting of the name ‘Josephine’ and confirmed it was Lloyd’s. Who was Josephine? Did she live in Idaho or had she traveled there for his father’s funeral? Did they spend time together while he was there? Was she the real reason he’d neglected to call you while he was gone? There was a horrible feeling in your gut that you couldn’t ignore. 

The realization that there were parts of Lloyd that you were completely closed off from hit like a slap in the face. There were sides to him you’d never seen. He had a past that transcended the three years you’d shared. Of course that was normal, but the utter lack of awareness you had of Lloyd’s past wasn’t normal at all. If you knew who Josephine was, maybe these bookmarks wouldn’t make your heart slam against your rib cage. You’d know if she were a matronly ex-neighbor or an ex-girlfriend. That was something you ought to know, and the fact that you didn’t have a clue made your stomach churn. It seemed that beneath the veneer of trust you had in Lloyd there was an abyss of uncertainty. While your friendship had been built on healthy habits, it was painfully obvious that your romance lacked the same sturdiness. The dawning awareness that all it took was three flimsy bookmarks to fracture your relationship burned. 

You took a deep breath and tucked the floral bookmarks into the envelope and returned it to the same pocket. Then you began methodically returning all the items back to their original position, careful to order them exactly how you’d found them. 

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

A strange chemical scent hung in the air. Lloyd wrinkled his nose and swallowed, grimacing at the bitter taste of rotten eggs. He stood with Zach at the chain link fence that sealed off Copper Ridge from the rest of the world, looking up at the double rows of twelve-foot high razor wire topped fencing. The sight reminded him of prison.

Decorating the fence were brightly colored posters signaling danger lay ahead. 

Zach coughed into his elbow. “This place smells like my grandmother’s garden, but way, way, worse.”

“What?” Lloyd asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Her garden plot had alkaline soil, so she treated it with Lime-Sulfur every spring.” Zach coughed again, then examined the warning posters. “Arsenic, sulfur, lead, benzene, radiation… What did they do? Nuke this place?” 

“That probably would’ve done less environmental damage.”

“Check those security cameras,” Zach said, tilting his chin at the gate post. 

“We can assume the killer isn’t just driving up to the main gate.”

“Given what they’re containing up here, those cameras probably aren’t new.”

“He must have a more discrete method of accessing the site,” Lloyd agreed.

“So, we’re hiking the perimeter?”

“It’s due diligence. The three bodies we have prove that we’re looking for an experienced hiker who isn’t afraid of moving his victims over rough terrain.” 

“The perimeter is thirteen miles and the sun’s about to go down.”

“Got an extra flashlight?” 

Zach smirked, and quipped, “one is none.” 

Their flashlight beams were necessary under the thick canopy of vegetation, even with the sun still shining overhead. The trees cast long shadows and stretched their fingers across the forest floor. Recently fallen leaves squished under their feet as they followed the fence line, still too wet to crunch. Crisp air whipped against his neck and Lloyd flipped up the collar of his jacket. 

“I hope Princess doesn’t intend on letting your genes into her bloodline. Not after this.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd muttered.

Zach snickered. “Touched a nerve, eh?”

“You’re getting exposed to this shit right along with me, asshole.” 

“Not really. I had a procedure in the 90s to ensure none of my swimmers were medal contenders.” 

“For the love of all that is holy, please shut up.” 

“Why didn’t you bother with a vasectomy? Nervous about someone poking around down there?” Zach asked.

“Getting clipped has never been on my agenda.” 

Zach stopped abruptly. “You want kids? Really?” 

“Fuck no! You of all people get why.”

“I do. Hence, the vasectomy I got at twenty.”

“I don’t want kids,” Lloyd stated.

“Your actions say otherwise,” Zach said. 

“No, they don’t. All my actions say is… Why are we having this conversation?”

“What about Princess?”

“What about her?”

“Does she want kids?” Zach asked.

“How should I know?!”

“You’re dating her.”

“This is what you want to talk about right now?” Lloyd demanded.

“Does she?”

“Come on, we’re in the middle of something. Now isn’t the time.”

“What are your intentions towards Princess in the long term?” 

“Zach, are you giving me the shovel talk?”

“Why would I bother digging a grave when I know this place exists? Answer the question. Where is this thing with Princess going? Are you serious about her?” 

“She’s important to me, of course I’m serious.”

The blond man’s eyes sharpened. “Serious is different than being serious about her. Are you going to move in together? Get married?” 

“Move in where? The townhouse? Her place? She was nearly strangled in my backyard and Aiden planted a camera at her apartment.” 

“Fine, sell both places, combine funds and get a house with a yard for the kids. I’m in Thursday night golf league with a couple realtors. You want me to hook you up?” 

“You’re not going to let this go, are you?”

“Nope,” Zach agreed cheerfully. “Look, the past three months are the happiest I’ve ever seen you. Princess, too. But I also know your track record with relationships so I need to know that you’ve got your head screwed on straight when it comes to her.” 

“I appreciate that,” Lloyd said. 

“Good. When are you going to talk to her about moving in together?”

“Have you always been this pushy?” 

“That’s not an answer.”

“I don’t know, damn it!” 

“You’ve been dating for three months. Figure it out,” Zach said. 

Lloyd sighed. “Three months isn’t very long.” 

“Sure, but the math is different for you two. You were friends first.” 

“She’s my best friend. I don’t want to see her hurt. Not by a stalker, or anything else.” 

“Look, Lloyd, Princess is a good friend to me, too. I don’t want to see her hurt either. She’s going to need a commitment from you soon and what I’m trying to ask is this: how close are you to giving her that?”

“You know my track record with relationships,” Lloyd deflected. 

“I also know your track record with Princess. You’ve never disappointed her before and I’d prefer not to see you screw that up.” 

“I care about her, Zach. More than I’ve ever cared about anyone, and I don’t want to lose her or hurt her.” 

“But you’re afraid you will.” 

“My issues with women are legendary.”  

Zach snorted. “Let’s not pretend they’re just with women. You’ve got issues with everything.” 

“I’m not the white picket fence happily ever after type of guy.” 

Silence descended, lingering in the air, as if Zach was waiting for Lloyd to continue. He gritted his teeth and held his peace, refusing to add fuel to the conversation. 

“Figure it out, man. Lay your cards on the table soon, because Princess deserves to be with someone who’s all in.” 

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do, but-”

“What? You’re waiting for the right time to make up a bullshit excuse and end things with her? Once we catch her stalker, and we will, you can’t just turn around and break her heart-”

“Shut up.”

Zach sneered. “Like hell I will. Don’t tell me-”

Lloyd grabbed the Texan by the collar and covered his mouth, silencing him. 

“Shut up and listen, damn it!” 

Zach froze, alertness sweeping over him in an instant. They waited, silent. From somewhere ahead of them in the woods came a rustling sound. 

“You heard that?” Lloyd murmured. 

“Yeah.” 

Lloyd reached into his jacket and pulled out a Glock 19 while Zach took a .38 pistol from his boot. The gun clicked as Zach chambered a bullet.

“Turn off your flashlight,” Zach whispered. 

From ahead there was a flurry of rustling accompanied by the sounds of breaking twigs and branches. 

“An animal wouldn’t make that much noise,” Lloyd muttered. 

“Whatever it is, we’re not alone out here.” 

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

You struggled to focus on the computer screen. It was 10:30 and your eyes stung from too much screen time. Blinking against the dryness, you watched the rapidly moving footage flashing on the monitor. You’d shut off the lights in the office and re-played Nguyen’s interview at 4 times the normal speed. The rapid fire images helped to exaggerate changes in body language, which was what you’d decided to focus on. 

After attempting Lloyd’s technique of listening to the interview without visuals, you’d come to your senses and realized that while Lloyd could listen more accurately than anyone you’d ever met, you needed visuals, especially body language. Therefore, you turned off the audio and sped up the footage, watching Nguyen speak, noting his facial expressions and movements. 

Your eyes watered in protest at the excessive amount of blue light they were enduring and you squeezed them shut.

When they opened again, the laptop screen wasn’t as bright. You tapped the trackpad and the screen brightened. The laptop was plugged into the wall socket next to the desk. You leaned down and double checked the connection, then looked at the icon menu on the bottom right corner of the screen. The battery was at fifty percent and the plugged-in symbol was conspicuously absent. Your eyes darted to the digital clock on the wall and found its dial frozen, displaying the time as 12:00 AM.

Your stomach dropped. 

No electricity. Shit. How long? You had no illusions that the source of the electrical disruption was anything other than man-made. There was no heat wave, thunderstorm, or high winds. You moved to the window and peaked through the blinds to see that the lights were still functioning in the shopping mall. Zach’s suite appeared to be the only one without electricity. 

You grabbed for your phone, only to find that the spot where it had been was bare. Goosebumps broke out on your skin. The room was eerily silent. Your heart raced as you scanned the deep shadows and debated whether to run or scream.

“Sorry to drop by after visiting hours.”

The voice from the darkness was calm, almost conversational, but laced with an undercurrent of humor that was more terrifying than malice. You lurched back, eyes focused on the barely discernible silhouette of a man standing in the corner of the room. 

“Who are you?” you gasped, the catch in your breath turning your voice into a whisper.

The figure moved and you lept backwards, then screamed when your back slammed into the solid barrier of the wall. A man stepped out of the shadows, into the pool of light from the east window. He had sandy blond hair and cerulean eyes. Something about him triggered a wave of recognition, but you struggled to place him in your memory. 

“Hello, Princess.”

Your muscles bunched and your nostrils flared at his casual use of your nickname. The man raised his hands in surrender. Despite his overture of peace, you didn’t relax. 

“My name is Court Gentry. We met briefly in Singapore.” 

“When and where?” you challenged.

“The casino bar. It was your birthday.” 

The memory came flooding back. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to you. Alone.”

Hair rose on the back of your neck, but you defiantly tilted your chin. 

“I know Lloyd,” Court said, taking your lack of response for confusion.

“Yeah, I’m aware. Why are you here?”

“Because Lloyd refused to help me.”

“Sorry?” 

“I need someone to help me get into Bishop & Howard,” Court said.

“By ‘get in,’ I’m going to assume you actually mean ‘break in.’”

Court’s lips twitched into a split second smile that faded into seriousness.

“There’s a spy in the firm,” he said. 

“And you know this, how?”

“I keep tabs on Lloyd. I assume you’re aware of why?” 

“Mmmhmm.”

“A few months ago I was on a job and… came into possession of a laptop. There was a reference to Bishop & Howard on the contents of that device, so I followed up. One thing led to another and the next thing I knew, I’d uncovered a plot to steal top secret information from the U.S. military.” 

“You thought Lloyd was behind it, didn’t you?”

Court inclined his head, conceding the point. “It wouldn’t be the first time he betrayed his country, Princess.” 

Your eyes narrowed. “That’s why you were in Singapore.” 

“Yes. Events in D.C. from the law firm proved Lloyd innocent, so I approached him and asked for help. His answer was a very vehement ‘no.’” 

“He doesn’t do that sort of thing anymore.” 

Court nodded. “But that puts me in a bind, because the spy is making his final transmission tonight and I need someone to help me get past security. That’s all I’m asking, Princess. If you can get me to the sixth floor of the firm-”

“Bishop is the spy?!”

“No. He’s not behind this. I already cleared him as a suspect.”

“Executives and administration are the only departments on the sixth floor. What kind of government secrets would they keep up there?”

“There’s another department on the sixth floor,” Court said. “Patents.” 

“Right. I knew that, but there’s only like five people in the patent department. They keep to themselves and everyone else kind of forgets they exist.”

“Will you help me?” Court asked.

“What, exactly, am I helping you with? You never told me what these secrets I’m supposed to be protecting were.” 

The blond man studied you, weighing his words, before he spoke. 

“It’s a Department of Defense project called Project Prometheus. Whenever the government enlists private groups to develop top secret technology, they allow them to file patents on their inventions with a private firm. Only once the technology is de-classified do the patents become public record.” 

“What’s Project Prometheus?” 

Court sighed. “If I tell you, will you help me?” 

“Maybe.” 

“Project Prometheus is next generation jet fuel. It’s designed to power the upcoming F-37 Valkyrie fighter planes. The spy at B&H already sent information on the chemical structure of the fuel and how to synthesize it. All that’s left for him to transmit is the engineering specs of the jet’s fuel system.”

“I hate to break it to you, but I think the cat’s already out of the bag if they have all that.” 

“It’d be more accurate to say that they have the cat, but no bag. Without the right bag to put the cat in… ka-boom,” Court said, illustrating an explosion with his hands. 

“Why are you reaching out to me now?”

“Because the spy contacted his handler today to let him know that he’d be sending the rest of the documents at midnight tonight.” 

“All I would have to do is get you past security?”

“You have access to the sixth floor,” Court said.

“What about the security around the patent department? I’ve seen their door. It looks like Fort Knox.”

“Doors, plural. I have a plan for that. All we need to do is get in, set up some equipment and hole up in your office while we wait for the spy to show.”

“Are you going to turn him in or capture him?”

“My goal tonight is only to block his transmission and learn his identity. Once I have that, I’ll go to the FBI. Confronting him on my own would be counterproductive. If the authorities can get him to flip on the Chinese, that would be the best outcome.” 

Lloyd would kill you for even considering this, but at the same time, you felt compelled to help Court. He’d go after the spy with or without you and his chances of success were a lot higher if you went along.

“Okay. I’ll help you.” 

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

Next - Chapter XXVII

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

Masterlist

Tag List:

@denisemarieangelina @before-we-get-started @buckysteveloki-me @patzammit @badassbaker @meetmeatyourworst @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @thiskindahotkindamusic @jesgisborne @charmingprincess @amiets2 @seitmai @elle14-blog1 @chaoticsteverogers @kaleidoscopepov @fangirl-and-doctor-help @terry2227 @jesevans @mjey12 @openup-yourmind @kandierteveilchen @adoreyouusugar @ultrasilentwhispers @awkwardgiraffe726 @pono-pura-vida @mysweetlittledesire @maylaysia109 @liecastillo @unluckyevans @marantha @literaturelove @babyevansblog @lizzzaaaaaaaaaaa @thegirlnextdoorssister @ladygrey03 @cynic-spirit @rosedpetal @roseeatta @pensieve-foryour-thoughts @jeremyrennermakesmesmile @bambamwolf87 @michalkasimp @namelesssav @yiiiikesmish @lavenderx0 @calwitch @peachiestevie @texmexdarling @here4thefanfics @rogersbarber @spikeluv84 @dear-fifi @crayongirl-linz @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @andydrysdalerogers @mrsbarnes32557038

[russellsppttemplates]

You mean the world to me (Mick Schumacher)

Insecurities get the best of Y/N and, while Mick is on holiday, a media post makes her wonder

Note: english is not my first language. I know this has taken me so so so long to write but time just has been very tricky and I can't seem to juggle it all!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated, and while I'm not actively taking requests, I am writing some blurbs when I can (honestly, it's a very rare thing these days) so if you have any ideas or concepts that can be written in a small amount of sentences and you want to share, feel free to do so!

Tw: mentions anxious symptoms, feelings of being unworthy/insecurities

"Are you sure there isn't a way you can join?", Mick asked, looking at your calendar app with you by his side, "no, I mean, there's these two days here but that would be the travelling alone. I'd get there and spend 24 hours maximum with you before having to hop on a plane back home to be at this client", you pointed, "That's true, yes", he said before rubbing his forehead, "so you're not joining, it sucks, but is is what is is, I guess".

"I'm sorry I can't go, I'd really like to, but with all of this in my schedule and the distance I would have to travel, it just doesn't make sense. We'll do it together another time", you offered, squeezing his other hand that was on top of the table and helping him balance his body, "sure".

.

"Hi, liebling, how are you?", Mick asked over the phone, the noise on his side of the line contrasting with the quietness of your shared home on your end of the line, "I've been good, tired, but at least things are progressing well at work, seems like they finally understand that when we have meetings, we can actually get things done if they stop talking about everyone's business", you giggled, hearing a faint smile in Mick's voice, "I'm glad you're okay. We are actually going on a boat now, I'm not sure how good the service is once we leave so I'm calling you now", he explained, leaving you to talk a bit more before he had to depart, "wish you were here, liebling. As soon as you're able, I'm getting you here with me. Hopefully soon, yeah?".

.

Your work meetings had actually been productive for once, not making you regret the decision to stay home while Mick travelled. All of the pictures he would send you of him and his friends showed him having a great time, which you were happy about, knowing that that quality time was well deserved.

What you did not see pictures of was the article that had popped in your browser. It was by far something you did on a regular basis, but by some reason or another, you opened the article stating what you could only interpret as a mean, mean joke. As you scrolled down, allegations that Mick had been seen with someone else, "fondly flirting" as the article read, started gaining force and body, different blurry pictures and supposed witnesses' reports filling the page while your mind filled with worries. That was not something you had ever considered, after all you trusted your boyfriend completely, but you couldn't stop the thoughts or shake away the possibility of that actually being true. What evidence did you have? An article that could well be false and just a poor attempt at meddling in your private life, but pair that up with the feelings of uneasiness you had since you couldn't join Mick in the trip and your mind couldn't let the idea go. Tears fell from your eyes as your knee bounced under your desk, your hand shaking as you managed to close the Internet page while your thoughts repeatedly made you doubt. It wouldn't be the first time you heard something like that, after all, relationships come and go, and did Mick have any reason to look for someone else? You both had always agreed that from the moment it didn't feel right to any of you, you would talk to eachother to see a way to solve it, and if you didn't have a way to solve it other than break up, that would be it. Had Mick skipped the first step of the agreement? Or had he tried to talk to you about it and you didn't see where he was at already? Had you been so blind to it? So lost in your thoughts, you didn't even notice Mick arriving back with Angie from their walk until you felt Angie's paws on your lap, asking to get up and snuggle you like she had done many times while you felt like this.

"Angie, do you want some water or so-oh. Y/N, are you okay? What happened?", Mick asked, his hand coming to tub your back as Angie placed her head in your chest area, the weight helping you regulate your unsteady breathing, "Y/N, hey, hey, you're okay, my love. Everything's fine, okay?", he urged you to follow his voice, something that always calmed you, and your heart panged a little bit more. He was the one that knew how to calm you down, but maybe there would be a day where it wouldn't be him, where he would have enough of the way you preferred things and leave you behind, and maybe that day was today. Letting out a big deep sigh, you looked up at your boyfriend's blue eyes, "you know I will never judge you, especially for anything you've done when I don't know the reasons behind it but... what are your intentions here? You know you can be honest with me, Mick", you asked, your lips trembling slightly.

Mick was confused, not understanding where the conversation came from and where it was leading, "what do you mean, Y/N? I know I can be honest with you, I am honest with you. Did I do something to make you doubt that?", he wondered gently, "have you seen something that made you doubt that?", he said as his expression hardened slightly, his jaw locked as he waited for an answer.

Grabbing your phone, you typed in the page you had seen the low quality pictures, "this popped up today", you said, offering him your phone so he could scroll and see for himself, his eyebrows quirking up as he read the words on the screen, "and you believe this?", he said after what felt like an eternity, "is that why you're doubting me?", and while his words and tone stung, your mind could inly list why he would leave you.

"I don't want to, I really don't want to believe in them, but my mind always comes back to them, to the words, and I can't shake them off", you said, your voice little as you looked at him, "so you believe what they are saying?", Mick confirmed, trying to get to the root of the problem, "Liebling, I'm with you, and I don't want to be with anyone else", he said calmly, trying to get you to embrace his body as he stretched his arms, your immediate reaction making your wrap your arms around yourself to control the shaking of your body, even pushing Angie a bit to the side.

"This may be what you want now, but what about a day where you realise you're bored of me and leave me?", you whispered, the tears that were caught on your throat flowing freely now as you looked at Mick while keeping a safe distance from him, "what? Y/N, no, no, no, no. Y/N, I'll never do that to you, never. Don't you trust me?", he asked, the gentleness in his voice leaving slowly, "I trust you, Mick. But it's so hard, I-, I'm reminded of how different I am from everyone else around you, everyday, how I don't have the same they have, and-, and how do I know that?", you questioned as you wiped the tears on your face. Your boyfriend looked at you with uncertainty, "Y/N, I promise that whatever is going on in your head is not the truth. I love you, I have loved you and I'm going to continue to do so", he tried to reason, "If we're not on the same page, we are just wasting out time in this relationship", Mick said and it felt like a dagger through the heart. But it hurt even more because you knew it was the truth. How could you both be in a relationship like that?

Looking at the garden, you tried your best to deal with your emotions and the thoughts running through your head, "I can't talk right now, I'm sorry. I'm tired, I'm afraid I'll say things I'll regret later and I don't want to do that, I don't want to do that to you", you said getting up and heading to the home office, not before hearing a muttered "I love you" from Mick, feeling himself that prolonging the argument would only lead to worse than it had.

You must have fallen asleep in your chair, the small pain in your neck allowing you to come to your senses quickly, your mind also not giving you a break before your mind filled with thoughts, the same ones you've had for a while. Truth being told, you had been feeling unworthy of Mick for a bit. How everyone around him always seemed to have time to go on his adventures, how they loved to be in groups and how you did not fit in the type everyone seemed to think the young driver deserved.

Heading to the kitchen, you looked at the time on the oven to see that it was just past dinner time, not seeing anything that indicated that Mick had the meal already. While you waited for the water to boil so you could make some tea, your hands tapped on the counter, Mick's words from before getting to you. Were you going to call it? Especially like this? Were you on different pages? Did he think you didn't deserve him either? All thoughts spiralled, the kettle long forgotten as you started to feel tingles on your legs, almost like you were incapable of standing on them, making your rest your back on the wall, letting your body slide slowly until your butt hit the floor while your lungs felt like they couldn't get enough air inside them.

You closed your eyes, trying to regulate your breathing as best as you could when you felt the floor vibrate almost, the feeling not getting enough time to be processed as another texture caught your senses, soft fur along your arms before you felt what you recognised as Angie's tongue lick your cheek, her snout later making you tilt your chin upwards while you heard your boyfriend's voice, "Liebling, Y/N, liebling, hey...! Breathe for us, yeah?", Mick said as you tried your best to follow his voice and block out everything else, looking for his hand to hold while Angie managed to lay on top of your legs.

"That's it, nice and slow, very good. You're doing so good, my love, so good", Mick said as he rubbed your knuckles, "big, deep breath, just like I'm doing", waiting to see some colour come back to your face and for you to return back to a normal breathing pattern, the tears now concerning him, "what's the matter?", he said gently, "are you going to break up with me?", you forwarded, "just be honest, it is a yes or no question", you yelped.

Shaking his head and himseld out of his stance, Mick sat in front of you, "Y/N, I'm not breaking up with you", he clarified, "I understand now that the way I said it was not the best, but we need to talk it out. But to me it doesn't mean that, not until we fight for it, fight for us", he smiled softly, seeing you calm down almost totally, your hands a little shaky still while the Australian Shepherd looked up at you, "your head is heavy, miss Angie", you chuckled, finally feeling her head on your legs.

Helping you get up once you felt strong enough to do so, Mick handed you a cup of water and let you drink it, watching you closely before grabbing your hand, "can we talk about it?", he said, "I don't want you to feel worse, but I don't like to be like this with you either", he explained while you nodded in agreement, squeezing his hand in yours as you walked to the sofa in the living room.

"First, I want to apologise for what I said. I know that I said it and I can't undo it, I know it hurt you, and that is something I never want to do, ever", Mick started, "so, I'm sorry, Y/N", he looked into your eyes, "but, like I said, I want us to talk about it because I feel like that will be how we understand what is going on", he encouraged you.

Gulping, you fiddled with his fingers, "I feel like, sometimes, I'm not what you deserve", you started, "like you could do so much better", you were interrupted by him, "I'm sorry for not noticing you were feeling like this", Mick said, "It's not your fault", you said, looking around the room, "I get insecure about it. That you'll leave. About how I am different than the rest of your friends' and their partners, how I can't go on all these trips because I have work, how I'll never look like the beautiful women that surround you everywhere and that support you around the world, but I also know that you love me just like that and would never make me change who I am, it's just the articles, it messed me up, I'm sorry too", you whispered, your voice cracking fully as the tears left your eyes, Mick's hand stretching to wipe them.

"You mean the world to me, Y/N. You're the most beautiful woman out there and I only care about you. And I want to see you thrive, wether it is in work or other things, I want to see you happy and be the luckiest man in the world that gets to be loved by you, to see you be an even better person everyday", he said as he looked at your lips, "I want you to be with me on trips and adventures, sure, but I will never ask you to drop everything you have and come with me just for that", he mused, "and I would never ever do anything like that to you, nothing they wrote ever crossed my mind. I love you too much to every hurt you like that, and it bothered me that you considered it. I now understand why, so", he kissed the top of your head before looking back at you, eye to eye, "anytime you have these doubts, you can come and talk to me. And I mean it. I'll make sure to remind you everyday of how much I love you and how you mean the world to me", he smiled, seeing a sparkle in your eyes, "Thank you for being so understanding", you said, "I love you, Mick", you smiled, "so so so much", before locking your lips with his, Angie wagging her tail around you, "are you doing that because you want some food?".

[vin-taege]

Neko

Summary: You introduce Chishiya to a cute cat-collector game despite him insisting that he wouldn't like it.

Genre: fluff, post-borderlands

Pairing: reader x chishiya

Words: 800+

Note: This is totally self-indulgent after the last mega angst fic lmao

"What's the point of that?"

Chishiya stared at your phone, the screen lit up by a bright cartoon background and cats lounging on the toys you've set out.

"They're my friends and I love them," you hummed, eyes fixated on the screen. You tapped on a white cat—Snowball—to take a picture of him.

"It isn't the most..." Chishiya paused, trying to find the word he deemed most appropriate. "... riveting gameplay."

"Well, it's not supposed to be riveting," you replied, exiting the app and shutting your phone off. You took a sip of coffee before continuing, "It's just something that relaxes me."

You expected him to tease you in his usual sarcastic way, but to your surprise, he lifted his chair and scooted it closer to yours. "How does it work again?"

He didn't want to concern himself with such childish things-he thought they were pointless and a waste of time. But the way your eyes lit up each time you opened the app made him want to know more about this. It felt like getting to know you more by association.

"You just leave food out like this," you said, turning your phone back on to demonstrate. "Exit the app then after a few minutes, some cats will come."

You turned the phone towards him to show the current state of your yard. Though he didn't show it, Chishiya was actually a bit impressed. There was a giant cat tower in the middle, surrounded by smaller toys like a dainty glass vase and an opened treasure chest. You pointed to a black cat with white markings, busying itself with a red ball. "This is Gabriel. He gave me a raffle ticket yesterday."

Chishiya gently took your phone, pupils seemingly dilating. You watched him poke around the cats to read their names and descriptions, his poker face unmoving. You chuckled lightly, leaning towards him so you can brush some of the bleach-blond hair back.

"You could get this on your phone, you know," your fingers combed at the loose strands. You gathered them into a tiny ponytail before securing them with a hair tie. "It can help you feel less lonely during long shifts."

He quirked an eyebrow in question.

"You know, since you'll have some kitties waiting for you when you get back."

He smirked, handing you back the phone. "What a silly thought," he murmured against your cheek. With one hand, he turned your face slightly so his lips could meet the softness of your skin.

"You love my silly thoughts," you brought your hands to his shoulders, pulling him closer. Your lips connected with a soft kiss, and you could feel him grinning against you.

"I suppose so," he teased.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

Chishiya munched on some biscuits, content with the silence of his office. He was relieved to have caught a break, especially since it looks like he'll be on call until well past midnight. He had already texted you to sleep without him, but he knew you'd stubbornly stay up for his arrival.

He decided he'd finally had enough of looking through the mountain of reports sitting on his desk. His eyes drifted to a framed picture of you two instead. You were wearing a lilac sundress, a huge smile plastered on your face. Next to you, Chishiya sported a white sweater covering the hem of his beige slacks. A red plaid blanket was sprawled underneath you, weighed down by snacks, a wicker basket, and a chessboard.

He grinned to himself, reminiscing that day. It made him miss you more, made his heart hurt because he couldn't come home earlier. Sighing, he brought his phone out, scrolling until he found an icon of a white cat.

The chirpy background music greeted him, alongside a morbidly obese feline lounging by the food bowl. His eyebrows raised in surprise—his first time encountering this specific cat.

"Well aren't you a greedy one."

He wouldn't be caught dead checking out this game. But god, he just missed you so much and maybe you were right—he did feel just a little bit lonely.

Still, he'd never admit that to anyone, not even to himself. In his mind, he's only playing this game to understand you better. Psychoanalysis—not because he genuinely enjoyed a silly game with silly cats.

   .❀。• *₊°。 ❀°。

"Nice," he muttered to himself. It was three in the morning, and you were sleeping soundly next to him. On the other hand, Chishiya was sitting against his pillows, face illuminated by his phone.

Tubbs—the obese cat he definitely did not learn the name of—had finally given him a memento. That fat bastard made him wait a month.

"Chish?" You stirred next to him, eyes squinting at the faint light. Your voice was groggy, mind still hazy from your sleep. "What are you doing up?"

"Nothing, love. Let's go back to sleep." He quickly turned his phone off, getting back under the covers to wrap his arms around you.

"Were you playing Neko Atsume?" you sleepily mumbled into his chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about."