#and this is the first time in like fucking Months I felt the muse to properly render something it feels good ngl

[adxmanial]

I'm just coming in and taking what's mine load the 45, they're paying the price

[aperrywilliams]

More Than You Say (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

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Author Masterlist

Part 1: More Than You Know

Part 3: More Than You Expect (the end)

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Spencer mulls over what you said and your love confession during your last fight. And he knows how deeply he fucked up this time. After admitting he is in love with you, Spencer wants to fix things. Are you willing to let him?

Word Count: 5.6k

TW: ANGST. Strong language. Mention of abduction, drug use, getting shot, death of relatives and loved ones, jail, and unsafe sex. If I forgot anything, let me know.

A/N: This is the aftermath of 'More Than You Know' from Spencer's POV. I'm not going to lie. This one ends worse than the previous one. The good news is that there is a third chance, meaning a third part. Maybe they will have luck in that one.

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Spencer doesn't know how long he has stood there, looking at the door you shut when you left. His first thought was to run after you, but he refrained.

What could he have said to you?

Sitting in the chair that you left vacant, he takes a deep breath. The room feels suffocating to him.

Your words keep reverberating in his brain, and Spencer wants to feel utterly surprised, but it would be a lie. Not that he precisely knew what was going on; it was more like he sensed something was off, and he ignored it.

Like a royal asshole.

The hurt in your eyes is something he knows he will never forget. Those kind eyes that were always welcoming and understanding, this time, only reflected betrayal and pain.

Spencer hates his mouth and the way his words can do so much harm.

Rewinding the past months in his brain, Spencer tries to figure out how you both ended like this.

You never told him how you felt, and Spencer is sure about it. He would have done something if you did.

He is so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn't notice Emily walking into the room.

"She told you, didn't she? You must have hella pissed her off," Emily muses. And Spencer can't help but return a confused look.

"Wait. You knew?"

Emily let out a frustrated sigh, sitting in front of Spencer.

"Sometimes I wonder why that amount of IQ doesn't pay off," she wonders. Seeing the man still clueless, she continues talking. "Spencer, possibly the only one who didn't know at this point was you."

Great. Everyone knew but him. Spencer wants to dig a hole and disappear right now.

"Why she didn't tell me?"

The question is more to himself than Emily. She answers nonetheless.

"I'm not sure if she ever wanted you to know. If you hadn't pushed her the way you did, she would never have told you, I guess."

Spencer takes in Emily's words and starts questioning everything about you and him in the past months.

"I assumed so many things lately, and now I'm unsure if they are true or part of my imagination," he says, frustrated, raking his hands through his hair.

"You have the answers, Spencer. Even if you think you don't."

Spencer scoffs at that. He doesn't fucking know anything. That's the problem. He needs to fix something but doesn't know what it is.

"I need to talk to her," he decides, standing and walking to the door. Before he could cross the threshold, Emily calls his name.

"Reid, wait."

Spencer turns to see Emily. She has a stern look.

"Don't talk to her unless you know what you want to say."

Spencer's eyes narrow. He can't conceive of not talking to you right now. He wants to run to your place right away.

"What? But Emily, I need to know-"

Spencer argues, but Emily doesn't let him finish.

"You'll figure it out. Just don't rush it. She has been through a lot. At least you owe her that. Think about what she told you first."

Spencer doesn't know what to do—the compulsion to run after you clouds his senses, but Emily has a point. He doesn't know what to say. Yeah, he is sorry for what he said to you and how he treated you, but an 'I'm sorry' won't fix it.

Besides, until that day, Spencer thought you both were only friends, and you were okay with it. He only pegged all your apprehensions and the words of concern like a friend's worry.

It seems he did a great job ignoring what it was in front of his eyes.

You said you loved him. And Spencer has no reason to doubt your words, even if he told you he does.

Spencer leaves the conference room defeated and with a weight over his shoulders he hasn't felt in a long time.

As he passes your desk, he sees it empty, and his stomach clenches. It's like being in a parallel world where you are not next to him, and just imagining it disturbs him.

The rest of the team watches as Spencer wanders around the BAU like a lost puppy, wondering if this will make him really reflect on how he's been leading his life lately. They know the bond between you and Spencer is important to both of you, but they've also seen how it has deteriorated over time.

That night, as he steps into his apartment after work, he only wants to grab the phone and call you. But Emily's words start replaying again.

'You'll figure it out. At least you owe her that.'

Spencer opts to sit on the couch with the lights off and his head back.

He needs to fix this.

When he closes his eyes, his mind wanders to the day he met you.

-

He was a scared kid, a freshman FBI agent recruited by Jason Gideon. He put a foot in the bullpen that day, and Hotch was the first to greet him. His stern look was different from Gideon's and more intimidating for sure. He led Spencer to the conference room, where you were perched in a corner with a mug of coffee in your hands.

'This is SSA (Y/N) (Y/L/N). It's her first day, too. Agent (Y/L/N), he is SSA Dr. Spencer Reid; he is joining the team as well.'

You glanced at him and rapidly stood from your spot, stretching your hand to him. He should have shaken it, but his germaphobe self kicked off.

'The number of pathogens passed during a handshake is staggering. It's actually safer to kiss.'

After the words left his mouth, he wanted to be buried alive. You retracted your hand with an amused smile.

'I didn't know. But I guess we should skip the kiss part for now,' you said, and Spencer's cheeks burned in embarrassment. Seeing him all flustered, you quickly added. 'But It's good to know new things. I think I'll learn a lot from you, Dr. Reid.'

This time, Spencer's cheeks burned from more than embarrassment.

It might sound cliché to say that for the first time in his life, Spencer felt so comfortable with someone. You quickly became his best friend and unmatched support. People wondered why. To outsider's eyes, you both looked so different. You were more confident than him, with an extraordinary ability to listen and say the right words at the right time. You were one of the few people who wasn't intimidated by either Hotch or Gideon, a thing he could not say about himself.

And, by far, you have been the only person there for him when Spencer has needed it the most.

He remembers having the vial in his hand. He stared at the item for a while, deciding whether to use it. It has been weeks since Hankel kidnapped him, and he stole the Dilaudid from his dead body.

He was feeling trapped and hopeless. Spencer thought he could handle it, but every day, it seemed worse than the previous one.

His feet carried him to your door that night. He knocked but didn't know why. Maybe he hoped to find some strength he didn't have.

You opened the door and glanced at him, confused. He wasn't okay, and he didn't look alright, either.

'Spencer? What are you doing here?' you asked, your voice laced with worry.

'I'm sorry I didn't call before coming.'

He didn't know how he managed to get words out of his mouth. Spencer was to a second to crumble.

'It's okay. What happened? Are you hurt?' Your eyes scanned his body for a sign of what was going on.

'I don't - I can't (Y/N). I can't do this. I need help.'

Spencer broke, sobbing at your door. You rushed to hug him; you didn't even care that you were in the middle of the hallway.

That night, Spencer confessed his sins, and he found nothing but understanding and support in you. He didn't know he deserved either of these things until he met you.

As you both got closer, he learned everything about you. In the same way that he confided his life to you, you did the same to him. And Spencer never hesitated when you needed him.

You called him sobbing that night. Your dad was suddenly admitted into the hospital due to an illness he hadn't told anyone before. You were his only close family member. Your mom left the country when your parents divorced a decade ago, and your two older siblings lived in other towns.

'Hey, I came the faster I could. What happened?' Spencer rushed into the hospital waiting room where you were. You darted your glassy eyes at him, with lips quivering.

'He isn't okay, Spencer. The doctor says he- oh God - he will not make it,' you broke, with a sob raking through you.

Spencer engulfed you in a tight embrace. You cried with your head on his chest. He would have given everything to rip off your pain and carry it himself.

You both stayed in the hospital that night. You at least could see your dad for a moment to say goodbye. At dawn the next day, he passed away.

Spencer remained with you through your grieving process and swore to be by your side and protect you for the rest of his life, no matter what.

And like that, life kept testing your bond with Spencer—failed relationships, elusive psychopaths, work injuries, friends gone, faked deaths, and so on. The BAU changed, but you both remained.

Sometimes, Spencer wondered if destiny was a real thing. Maybe with you, it was—his best friend.

He was truly happy having you in his life, but why sometimes did it feel like something was missing?

Spencer questioned his feelings about you for a long time. Was it something more than a platonic sentiment? Why was his heart filled with joy every time he saw your smile or heard your laugh? And it plugged with gloom when you were sad?

With time, Spencer was convinced he loved you but kept his mouth shut. He told himself he was over-reading the signs. And Spencer blamed his early lack of affection and inexperience in the heart's department. You undoubtedly didn't feel the way he did, and he was creating a whole imaginary world that would crush the moment the bubble popped.

People around weren't helping either. After telling Morgan how he felt about you, he kept telling Spencer that he needed to make a move.

JJ, for her part, let out her insinuations about how he should do something and the high probability of his feelings being reciprocated.

But Spencer wasn't sure, and the risk of losing you for overstepping your bond terrified him, so he said nothing.

And things could have stayed that way, but a light of hope for him opened time after.

Morgan and Hotch had left the BAU, and the team was focused on trying to catch Scratch. At the same time, Spencer was dealing with his mom's illness and her recently diagnosed Alzheimer's. As always, you were there for him.

"Are you sure you don't want me to go with you to Houston?" you asked him, sitting on his couch one night.

"No. It's okay. It will be only two days," Spencer assured you. He felt terrible for lying to you. He never did that before, but he knew you would talk some sense to him about what he was doing on his trips to Mexico.

"Will you call me if you need anything?" you insisted, and Spencer could only think how much he wanted to hug and kiss you. But he won't do that. He can't do that without telling you he loves you. Not without risking losing you due to a stupid love confession.

Spencer was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice his lack of response to your question.

"Spencer? Are you okay?"

With still a semi-hazed brain, his hands reached yours, and his eyes locked with yours. A frown of worry appeared on your face.

"Have I ever told you how grateful I am for having you in my life?"

A blush crept from your neck to your cheeks. It wasn't the first time Spencer had told you something like that, but how he looked at you that night, with that intensity, was making you weak on the knees.

"Yeah. A couple of times, if I recall correctly," you replied, trying to sound casual, but inside, you were aflame with his gaze.

"I think I should say it more. And to show it like it really is," Spencer mumbled, and you were confused. What was he trying to say?

"You mean like buying me more coffees and bagels?" you joked. You always did that when you were nervous, and Spencer knew it.

In a bold move and without letting your hands go, he scooted closer to you on the couch.

It was now or never. Spencer knew then this was his chance, and if he didn't take it, he would never do it again.

"Can - can I tell you something?" he asked, flicking his gaze between your eyes and your lips back and forth.

You noticed the gesture and were about to combust. Why was Spencer looking at your lips like that?

"Yes." Your voice above a whisper, fearing it could falter if you spoke louder.

"I want to kiss you so bad right now," he whispered back, so close you could feel his breath fanning your face. Your lips parted to say something, but no words came from them. Instead, you were the one who closed the gap between you both and kissed him.

Spencer kissed you back immediately with such urgency that you could feel the longing and desperation on his lips.

Deepening the kiss, neither you nor he wanted to stop. Fearing if you did, the moment would vanish, and you would wake up from this beautiful dream.

Maybe this was the chance you both needed to confess your feelings for each other. But fate could be cruel more than once.

In the middle of that years-making kiss, your phone rang suddenly. The infamous sound made you both jump back and return to reality.

Still dazed, you fished the device from your pocket. Emily was calling. You didn't know what to do. Should you answer your phone and cut the moment? Or ignore it and grasp Spencer's lapels to kiss him again?

Your bewildered look made Spencer decide for you.

"You should take that. Could be important," he said, voice laced with doom. He knew what was coming. You wanted to argue, but maybe he was right. Reluctantly, you slid your finger on the green bottom.

"Emily?"

The team had a new case, and it was urgent. You needed to be on the tarmac in twenty minutes.

"Can we - can we talk about this later?"

You were unsure where you were standing. Sure, you felt the electricity of that kiss; you didn't imagine it. But maybe it wasn't like you were thinking. Perhaps it was just the heat of the moment. A lot of things were happening, and you both were vulnerable.

On his part, Spencer saw this as a sign. This wasn't the time or the place. He didn't feel prepared to face his true feelings at the moment.

"Sure. Uh, but now you should go; they are waiting."

The bad thing is you never talked about that again. You went with the team to Connecticut while Spencer left the following day, not to Houston like he said to you. He went to Mexico.

The next time you saw each other was with Spencer in a cell in Matamoros.

There are a lot of things Spencer regrets about that infamous trip. One of them is to lose his chance to know if he could have built something more with you. How could Spencer imagine having a relationship with you now? After he lied to you? After falling in disgrace like this? You deserved more than a broken man, incarcerated and lost. Spencer didn't want to drag you with him and his misery. He couldn't stand the idea of breaking your heart for a failed relationship, but he didn't want to lose you either. The reasonable middle ground for Spencer was keeping you like his friend, as it has been until now.

After Spencer was released from prison, neither you nor him spoke of that night. He presumed you regretted kissing him, and he was afraid to say what it meant to him.

Everything got lost after his release. Spencer became reckless and superficial. He was a different guy. But everyone dispensed him due to the traumatic events he endured. You did it, too. You had stayed and committed yourself to him in the role you knew so well: as his best friend.

And that's what Spencer saw since then: you by his side, supporting him like the good friend you were. And he thought it was okay. You were alright, and he should have to live with the idea of not knowing what it could be to love you openly.

That's how Spencer immersed himself in a shallow and meaningless life, failing his true self and becoming a person he despised but who shielded him in his vulnerability.

-

The cell phone ringtone brings Spencer back from his thoughts. He quickly pulls it out of his pants pocket, secretly hoping it's you. It's a long shot, but he wants it so badly to be real. A short-lived wish because the caller ID shows it's Gabrielle, his late conquest.

Spencer lets out a heavy sigh, and your words come back to him.

'No! It's everything! Can't you see it? It's the way you lie to your teammates and the way you do your job like it doesn't matter to you. The way you turn everything into something meaningless. The relationships you have, your job, your friends. Everything!'

Spencer feels his body stiffen. It's like he's looking at himself from the outside, and what he sees terrifies him.

That's what you've seen in him, and he understands why you've walked away from him like that. The person he has become is to blame for your pain, and Spencer feels sick. He, who swore years ago to protect you from all harm, is the one who caused this.

'Do you really believe that? Do you really believe your self-destructive behavior only affects you? I didn't think you were so selfish, Spencer.'

Selfish. It's what he's been all along. And you had to be the one to throw it in his face to realize his mistakes.

Spencer doesn't have the energy or courage to answer the phone. He knows why Gabrielle is calling, and what 24 hours ago would have been a tempting offer now feels futile and pointless.

It's meaningless because the only truly significant relationship he has wanted all along is with you, nobody else.

And possibly you are in your apartment thinking Spencer is an asshole, believing he doesn't value you, that he doesn't care about you, that he doesn't love you. And while the asshole part it's true, he does care about you, and he does love you.

It may be too overdue, but it's time for you to know, he thinks.

With a resolution Spencer didn't know he had, he stands from his couch to grab his coat and keys. He is going to reveal his secret tonight. He is going to admit his underlying love to you and stop his charade.

During the car ride, he is having a pep talk with himself, trying not to lose the bravery that made him leave the apartment.

You have to know. He has to clear things up and get you back.

Spencer keeps repeating the words until he's at your door, calling with two solid knocks.

After some rustling from inside, the door opens, revealing your unhappy face. Spencer knows he deserves all the bitterness and pettiness you have and will throw at him, and he's going to take it all.

"You didn't check the clock before coming here, did you?" is the first thing coming from your mouth.

Spencer takes in your appearance. You're in your pajamas already, but the bags under your eyes tell him you weren't sleeping, and possibly you have been tossing and turning for hours now.

"I'm sorry. I know it's late, but we need to talk."

The roll in your eyes doesn't go unnoticed by him; it's like you weren't surprised by him standing at your door at 2 am.

"Spencer, if you want to talk about what happened this afternoon, I don't think-"

"Please? I know I behaved like an idiot today, but please let me explain," Spencer insists, and he really hopes you don't close the door in his face.

You contemplate your response for a second. Spencer knows you know he won't leave without talking to you, so you open the door just enough and signal him to come inside.

Spencer comes in and waits for you to close the door. The resolve with which he came is fading as his brain tries to organize his ideas and all the things he wants to say.

You gesture towards the couch, and he takes a seat. You too, but in a chair next to it.

Where to start? Spencer thinks about just blurting out everything and spilling his heart in front of you. But you are the one who starts talking.

"Why are you here?"

Spencer clears his throat. "I - I want to apologize for what I said. I hurt you, and I didn't mean to do that. I really didn't mean to do that."

"But you did," you say flatly, and he nods.

"I know. And I'm sorry. I let you down, and I feel horrible misreading the whole thing. I should have noticed."

Spencer barely blinks, trying to gauge your expression. You're difficult to read right now, and he hates it. You guys always were so good at reading each other, and he lost that ability, too.

"If you are talking about-" You seem ready to say something to not address the subject, so Spencer only blurts his question.

"Is it true? Do you love me?"

You sigh, shaking your head.

"Spencer-" You start, but Spencer doesn't budge. He needs to know and to hear it from you.

"Please, tell me," he pleads, and you let out a bitter chuckle.

"Why? It doesn't matter. It won't change where we stand right now," you convey with some treacherous tears fighting to fall. You avert his gaze.

Spencer stands and kneels in front of you.

"Please, look at me."

His index tilts up your chin so he can see your eyes. You surprisingly let him do that. "I need to know if you feel the same way I do about you," he whispers, his eyes fixated on yours. You furrow your eyebrows.

"What are you talking about?" One of his hands tenderly poses on your cheek to dry some of the tears falling.

"What I'm trying to say is that I love you. I have always loved you."

God, it feels so good to say it finally.

"W - What?" You look perplexed, and Spencer knows this is the opportunity he has to come clean with you.

"I know I didn't tell you sooner. It's long overdue, and even if I have my reasons, they don't excuse how I have treated you in the past months. But I promise things will change. I won't hide this anymore. Please, give me a chance to love you."

You seem overwhelmed with the information, so much so that you stand and start to pace in your living room. Spencer gets up as well and follows you with his eyes.

"Spencer, how- I - I don't understand. Why are you telling me this?"

"Because it's true. You are the one for me. I love you (Y/N)."

It seems now that he's said it once, Spencer spares no effort in repeating he loves you over and over again.

You stop pacing to look at him, an accusatory look in your eyes.

"Why now?"

Spencer understands your apprehensions. Of course, after everything that had taken place in the last hours, he comes to your door proclaiming his love. Logically, you are confused and don't expect it.

"Do you remember the night we kissed? The night before I went to Mexico?" He asks, and your gaze softens at the mention of that night.

"I do. But I thought you forgot," you say, casting your eyes down.

"How could I?! I wanted to do that for a long time. I couldn't believe we were finally kissing. It was like a dream come true for me," he recognizes, shorting the distance between you both and tentatively cupping your cheeks. You let him.

"But - but after the call, you - you told me-" you stutter, recalling the details of what occurred there.

"I know. I chickened out. After Emily's call, I thought it was a sign and not the right moment, so I backed off. There is no single day I don't regret doing that." Spencer's eyes glasses over, thinking about how foolish and blind he has been all this time.

"Why you didn't tell me?" you murmur, almost in a whisper.

"Because I'm stupid. Because I thought I was protecting you. I was in jail (Y/N); what could I have offered you?"

You huff and shake your head, putting distance between you both. Spencer's arms fall to his sides.

"And after that?"

Spencer knows you're talking about the time after he was released from Milburn. He gives you an apologetic look before answering.

"I thought I was doing the same. That having you as a friend was better than not having you at all," he concedes. Maybe it's the hardest part for him to admit because, when that happened, everything started to crumble between you both.

"So that was the friendship bullshit," you sneer. Spencer nods.

"Yeah. And I'll always be sorry for doing that to you. But I promise you, if you let me, things will change."

You go silent, mulling over his words, and it's like your defenses start to turn down. You look at Spencer with a mix of emotions he can't still crack. Maybe his words are void for you right now. That's why Spencer thinks showing you what he means is better than keep talking.

He slowly approaches you without breaking eye contact. With one of his hands, Spencer tilts up your chin while he leans down. He can hear the air hitching in your throat. His heart beats faster and faster as he gets closer and closer.

You do not move a muscle, nor do you reject his touch.

When his lips make contact with yours, you both let out a sigh you were holding. Your lips begin to move in sync. Spencer is kissing you, you're kissing him back, and there is no phone ringing.

Spencer gives you everything he has, trying to express he is yours and no one else's. You are both lost in a kiss that seems increasingly urgent and desperate.

But suddenly, you push him away. It's as if a jolt of electricity has struck you, shoving you away from him.

"Please, don't. Don't -" you mewl in a broken voice. Still dazed, Spencer looks at you, baffled.

"W - What's wrong?"

"I - I can't," you mumble, running your hands through your hair and shaking your head.

"Why not?" Spencer asks, and when you keep shaking your head and saying nothing, he starts to panic. "(Y/N), please. Talk to me."

"Spencer, I'm sorry. I can't do this," you repeat—this time with a steadier voice. "This isn't going to work."

Isn't it going to work? Spencer doesn't understand why you are saying that when you both just have admitted the truth.

"But I thought you loved me?"

Spencer's voice is small, frightened. It's as if, in five seconds, he went from the top of a mountain to a free fall into the void.

You look at him for a second, and it's like a realization hits you.

"So that's the reason? You are here and saying all these things because I told you I loved you?"

The accusing, defensive tone returns to you. And Spencer doesn't know what to do.

"No! I mean, yes! I thought a lot about what you told me. And I realized my feelings for you have always been there. That's why I'm here," he defends.

You insistently rub your eyes with your palms like someone who desperately wants to wake up from a dream.

"I'm sorry, but I can't believe you."

Spencer's eyes widen. You've closed yourself completely and thrown the key out the window.

"But it's true! I can prove it. I can be a better man for you if you give me a chance. Please." Spencer is begging, tears rolling down his face, but he doesn't care. He will do anything to get you back at this point.

"Spencer. Listen to me. Things don't work like that, okay? You hurt me, and I'm not talking about my romantic feelings for you. You questioned my loyalty as your friend. Do you know how that made me feel?"

"I'm sorry-" he tries to explain, but you cut him off.

"It's true what I told you earlier. I chose our friendship above acting on my love for you. And it seems I did it in vain."

Spencer shakes his head. "No, no, no. Don't say that. I know I did wrong, but I can make it up to you."

Can he really?

"Spencer, you need to make it up, but to you, not to me." Spencer's head snaps up.

"What - what are you talking about?"

You let out a deep sigh. "We both know you know."

"Prison," he confirms, embarrassed of what that word implies.

"And how your life has been since then."

"I know I fucked up. I hurt you-"

If thousands of apologies are necessary, he's willing to give you all of them.

"You hurt people, Spencer! Not only me! You fooled around; you have been treating women poorly and playing with their feelings. You have lied to your friends and pushed them away. And the worst part is you have been hurting yourself with all this!"

Spencer's eyes squeeze shut. You are right. He knows that. But he is so terrified about you walking away from him that he can't see the big picture.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I know you do. But I can't do this anymore. Supporting your self-destructive actions is not helping anyone."

"I know. And I'm not asking you to do that. I'm asking for a chance to show you I'm the guy who would do anything for you. Please?"

"Spencer, that's exactly my point. You must heal because of yourself, not because of me or anyone for that matter."

"I'm not-"

"Listen to yourself. You say you want a chance? But you only ask it after I poured out my heart this afternoon. How can I trust you when you have only shown me this version of you? Don't ask me to believe it."

There are a lot of things Spencer knows he has to do. He has a lot of mistakes to face and make amends for. But he fails to realize that the first amendment he needs to make is to himself.

That's what you have been trying to tell him.

"Are you saying there are no us?"

It's almost a rhetorical question at this point, but Spencer asks it anyway.

You look at him with sorrow in your eyes.

"There is nothing I want more than to be in your life, but in these circumstances, I don't think it's possible. Not when you must clear your head and think about what you want first. For real."

"But I love you; please don't ask me to step away."

It's another plea. The last resource Spencer has in him.

"I'm not asking you for that. What I'm asking you is if you really love me, don't drag me with you in this process you're going through now. I can't - I don't have the strength to stay by your side in this one. I'm sorry, but I need to think of myself this time."

"(Y/N)-"

"And now, I ask you for you to leave, please. It's late," you say, walking to the entrance and opening the front door.

It's late. Those words mean so much more to Spencer now.

It's too late for a love confession when you've already ruined everything that supported it.

It's too late to try to fix the mistakes he has made with you. Even tonight, it was daring to come to your home late at night, being inconsiderate of your space and time.

There is no way he can do something now without hurting you.

Maybe time will give him a hand, and the wounds will soften. Spencer hopes that by making real changes in his life, you will see he really meant everything he has said tonight.

What Spencer doesn't know is that you won't be around to see those changes happen.

——————

Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger @khxna @hiireadstuff @pleasantwitchgarden @dysphoricsanity @levi-of-starz @themoonchildwhofell @silver138 @lovelybaka @shinytinywhispers 

For those who asked for a part 2 (I'm so sorry for the delay): @gghostwriter @sebastiansstanswhore @evvy96 @pillsbury-doughgirl @singinghamtaro-blog @atlantica-angels @lukesmainpiece @ladyofhellhounds @gubzgirl @shqwqrma @hereforfun-31 @reader1402

[melodic-haze]

h-hey 👯‍♀️😕😜🎀

Since you said in your other post that you wanted to write for either Miko or Ei, I HAD AN IDEA!!

What if Miko and fellow kitsune!Reader who start their breeding months (in january obviously) and have Ei volunteering herself to them not knowing that they can’t obviously be sated in just one day 🙄 (r.i.p her cunny)

☆ — DEMO TRACK: switch!Miko x sub!Ei x dom!Reader

☆ — TYPE: NSFW

☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader and Miko can shift what they want (specifically their genitals 😄), knotting and breeding (not really)

☆ — NOTES: You. YOUUUUUU. Are such a genius ily anon ty for this 🙏🙏🙏

Ohhhh this bitch REALLY fucked around and found out LOL I almost feel bad.......almost

Have to hand it to Ei though, she DID try to research before proposing the idea in the first place. Especially since this is set in the first year since she got out the PoE........but studying it obv won't be the same as the real thing LOL

You and Miko have fared relatively okay on your own—the two of you have ABSOLUTELY mated before to ease each other's heat but it always felt like something was missing. You both made sure to take procedures to make sure neither of you ever concieved a child after the process with the excuse of the two of you being way too busy to care for one but like. The actual main reason was that if you were to have a child, you both wanted to have the third piece of the puzzle there with you

Now that the third member of your polycule's back, your heats are STRONGER THAN EVER bc wtf she's acc here??? Ughfhghfhh neeeeeed......like do you get me I hope you do

It wasn't as if it was a normal discussion to have out in public (you both always talked about it indoors until neither of you needed to really talk ab it anymore from all the time spent w each other) but it was a nice picnic between the three of you; Ei's head was on Miko's thighs as she ate up yet ANOTHER skewer of tricolour dango while you were leaning on the latter's side when she brought it up

Ei cleared her throat with a slight tinge of nervousness, "Could I perhaps, ah.. assist the both of you in your mating period?"

You choked on the dango that you were about to swallow as you see Miko startle the slightest bit, nearly dropping her novel in the process.

When you managed to regain your composure (or at least a modicum of it), you could only rush out a simple "'scuse me?" as Miko placed her book down to the side with a raised brow.

Miko combed her fingers through Ei's hair as she questioned, "What brought this on, dear?"

"Well..." The Archon licked her lips as she slowly got her words out, "I've.. left you two for over five hundred years. And while I'm glad that you both had each other for company whenever the season hits, I cannot deny that.. well, I feel bad, I suppose."

"You feel bad," the shrine priestess mocked, which.. really, wasn't all that undeserved, despite the fact that she was mocking the nation's leader.

"For a lack of a better word, yes." She sits up and turns to the both of you, putting the now-empty skewer aside, "Now that I have returned from my admittedly self-imposed isolation, it would be remiss of me to.. avoid my duties as your lover."

"I don't mean to be rude, Your Excellency," you teased, "but do you even know what you're saying? You've been in the Plane of Euthymia for so long; I worry for your safety."

You hear the pink fox envoy let out a quiet snort of amusement for your slight condescension (all in good faith, of course) as Ei sighed, "I think you forget that I am not a fragile mortal who needs to be coddled—I can withstand brutal wars and come out victorious."

"Besides," she adds, "I have done a fair amount of research to refresh my knowledge. I assure you both that I can take whatever it is you give me."

Miko mused, "I thought you knew better than to rely on textbook information rather than actual experiment, Ei."

"You're trying much too hard to dissuade me from my offer."

"We both deserve to rib into you for at least a couple hundred years."

"Especially considering how we've been left to fend for ourselves..."

"I.. suppose I do deserve that. And I want to make amends for it all, starting with this. So.. will you let me help? Please?" She looked at the both of you with such sincerity despite the subject matter.

...

The fact that Raiden Ei herself was begging the two of you though...

The both of you jumped her sides with sharing grins, your ears flicking in sync as you let out your own laughs.

"You should hope that you don't regret that, Ei.."

"..Because we are rather.. insatiable."

Then comes the actual thing and ohhhhh girlie was NOT prepared

When I said your heats get worse bc of how Ei's back, I fucking MEAN IT. It's the fact that that familiar sweet smell isn't just a not-quite-forgotten memory for you two anymore that it's just driving you both abslutely NUTS

When she gets to you two she gets POUNCED ON and there is. Basically no break for her at all and foreplay is basically foreGONE atp tbh

Eat her cunt like a bitch STARVED it's like both you and Miko are competing and assisting each other at the same time like who can eat her out better, who can make her squirt, etc etc

SO MANY BITE MARKS ON HER HOLY SHIT like okay yes on you and Miko as well but both of you want to mark Ei EXTREMELY for all the time you've lost with her. The both of you wanna show both Ei and perhaps the entirety of Inazuma that archon is YOURS at the end of the day......at least, if the loud noises didn't give them enough of a hint 🤷‍♀️

You're so right anon rip Ei's cunny indeed bc both you and Miko ABUSE the living HELL out of it❗️❗️❗️ You do often have to personally pry Miko off when she's overstaying in the spot you're supposed to share 🫶🫶🫶🫶 just tell her she's being a VERY bad girl rn and she'll fold. Usually she wouldn't but the haze (lol) in her mind is sooo fucking thick she can't think straight and she can't think of the witty remarks she would've otherwise made :((( poor baby the only thing she wants to do is breed and get bred :(((((((

I need to spitroast her with Miko so very badly I'm ngl to you I neeeed I NEEEEED I need to see Ei being impaled on both ends, both sides basically slobbering

It'd be very messy and would 100% take so long before you finish but when you do, it's with your fellow kitsune's own pussy practically filled to the brim and Leaking as she's laid out and finally passed out as your hips are locked in on your Archon's own; you cumming inside of you for like the nth time and stuffing her full w a mix of both your and Miko's cum and essentially plugging it with an inflamed bulb :3

Whether Ei has a system that allows her to get pregnant or not, gen who knows.......but one thing's def for sure. Or like three things acc: one, you two are VERY clearly excited that your shared lover is finally back; two, turns out she absolutely LOVES being used and bred by her two partners; and three?

It was an unusually hard thing to do, waking up. Despite having an artifical body and being an archon that has faced true horrors and extreme exhaustion, she found herself absolutely spent from the marathon.. copulation.

Ei had hoped that her exhaustion meant that the two of you were much more tired than she was, even despite your inhumanity, and yet...

Her eyes couldn't help but flutter open as a sudden gasp left her lips—she sees you push into her roughly with a lust-addled look on your face. You were already inside her when she fell asleep, considering the animalistic knot that held the both of you together, but even when it had shrunk to a more.. manageable level, you still hadn't taken it out.

Then Ei looks slightly to the right and there she sees her pink-haired familiar, heavily breathing as she grinded her wet, hot pussy onto her thighs with such loud, obscene moans.

(If the Archon listened close enough, which she did, she would've noticed the slight growl to the sounds she made—such a sound was at its most clearest when she ducked down to press another bite mark on porcelain skin.)

She couldn't even utter a word to remark that she had just woken up, didn't even have the room to do anything to stop you before you started pounding away at her like your life depended on it.

..And she could. Really, she could. She wasn't the feared Raiden Shogun for nothing.

She could stop you if she wanted to.

If she wanted to.

But when she feels the residual fluids within her gush out as you essentially resculpt her insides over and over and over, when she feels the desperate whines that Miko lets out as she cums and covers her thigh in slick, well.

She finds that she doesn't really want to.

(And really, not only was it her fault for volunteering, but this is her responsibility as your lover.)

(She knew that, and she wasn't going to start shirking her responsibilities again.)

(Even if it costs her her mobility for a while. But it's fine, she can just do a lot of maintenance after.)

[niningtori]

cruel intentions | part two

part one

pairing: choi beomgyu x you

summary: in the wake following the revelation that your boyfriend, beomgyu, only dated you for a bet in order to get his rent paid, you're actually doing pretty well. on beomgyu's end? he can't say the same.

genre: romance, angst, melodrama, fluff

warnings: clichés everywhere

word count: 3.8k

notes: she's here! i fear that this might be super corny and somewhat abrupt but that's fine i think!

beomgyu is not okay. he really, really isn’t. how could anyone expect anything other than that? it’s been a year since he saw you last, but he’s starting to believe that whoever said time heals all wounds was just blowing smoke up his ass. if anything, the longer he’s spent away from you, the worse his heart aches. that’s natural, he supposes, because you’re definitely the one that got away, and the fact that he drove you to leave only twists the knife. he wishes he could go back to the day he agreed to that stupid fucking bet and wring his own neck — maybe that'd talk some sense into his old self. but like you said all that time ago, he can’t. he even wishes he could go back to the first day of freshman year just so he could meet you sooner. that way, he could have been in your life and alleviated some of the stress and pain you always felt. but, and he cannot stress this enough, he can’t.

you may have blocked him on everything he can think of, but that doesn’t stop him from asking about you. luckily, taehyun made good on his intentions to get to know you better before realizing that you were the girl beomgyu had secretly been dating for months. as a good friend, taehyun declared you as totally off-limits, but that didn’t stop your all’s friendship from blossoming. as it is, your friendship with taehyun is only rivaled by your friendship with chaeyoung — a fact that she is all too aware of.

“when are you gonna stop beating around the bush and just get with him already?” she pouts.

“never,” you snort. “i told you, we’re friends and nothing else.”

“i know, i know, but i think he’d be good for you,” she insists.

“you’re only saying that ‘cause you’re worried he’ll replace you as my best friend, which he won’t, by the way,” you tease.

“you caught me,” she says playfully. 

truthfully, your friendship with chaeyoung has only strengthened after graduation. with the help of your therapist and a certain someone whose name you can’t bear to speak these days, you finally grew enough courage to tell her how you’ve felt like you were nothing more than her shadow since you were a preteen. you even told her about all of the times men (and women alike) only talked to you to get to her. to say she was horrified is the understatement of the century. after endless reassurances that you bore no ill will towards her and didn’t fault her for anything, she finally stopped apologizing. now, you two are closer than ever. 

“it’s just… i want to see you happy with someone,” she adds. she doesn’t have to end her sentence with  “again”, since you already know what she means: she wants to see you as happy as you were with beomgyu, again. except, for real this time. not for a bet or for fun.

“it’s okay, chae,” you say with a smile. “i’m happy as i am, i mean it.” and you do. working in your desired career field has helped you tremendously with income, and you’re actually able to provide for yourself and for your family without killing yourself with working overtime. you have so much free time, you're even able to date around a little bit. it never amounts to anything particularly serious, but it’s enough as it is. gone is the permanent storm cloud looming over your head and you’re finally able to breathe for the first time since, well, your relationship with beomgyu.

“i know,” she replies. “i just want my best friend to be even happier; is that so bad?” you roll your eyes good naturedly and she grins. 

“who knows? maybe i’ll meet someone tonight,” you muse, but you don’t really mean it. taehyun, or “tyun” as you affectionately call him, is having a get together at his place. he hinted at bringing some of his single friends, but you don’t expect anything to come of it. while it’s true that with the help of therapy and being completely honest about the nature of your inferiority complex with your best friend has helped boost your confidence, you never expect much from prospective romantic partners. you’ll never say it, but everyone knows it’s because of beomgyu.

“maybe. y’know, soobin is pretty cute,” she says with a nod, taking everything you say way too seriously. 

“yeah. he is.” 

-

while you have been to many, many events taehyun has invited you to, there has always been an unspoken rule that beomgyu would not be there. it seems that taehyun is able to perfectly juggle you two without having you all appear at the same place at the same time. that is, until you arrive at his apartment with a big smile and a 12-pack of beer and see the man who haunts you religiously sitting listlessly on taehyun’s couch. he doesn’t usually care enough to look up from his drink when new arrivals step foot through the door, but for some odd reason, he does when you walk in. it’s almost as if his truly supernatural intuition tells him to. unfortunately for you, his intuition is a pain in your fucking ass. 

when you meet eyes (lock eyes, really) you feel a pit of dread bloom in your stomach, threatening to swallow you whole. still, there’s a light fluttering of your heart that you wish to god you could deny, but it’s there, nonetheless.

you all stay in a deadlock for what feels like a lifetime before taehyun pulls you from it with a smile and hug.

“i’m glad you made it,” he says lightly. 

“of course, tyun,” you smile, successfully pulled out from your daze and back into the real world. it’s okay. you can do this. you’re a different person now that a year has passed. you’re mature enough to be in the same place as beomgyu. what you’re not mature enough for, though, is actually having to speak to him. luckily, you have no plans to do so now (or ever). 

beomgyu thinks… differently. 

when you’re standing in a quiet corner nursing a drink and wondering what the hell you’re still doing here, you almost miss the sound of feet shuffling towards you. your eyes lazily glance up and see beomgyu himself unsurely leaning against the wall next to you. 

“h-hey,” he says softly, cautiously. you look confused for a second, almost like you’re unsure if he’s addressing you, but his eyes look so earnest, there's no way he’s not. 

“hey?” you reply before fussing with your cup and watching the alcohol swirl around, threatening to spill over the rim of your solo cup.

“uh, how… how have you been?” he asks so nervously that it sounds like he’s surprised that you even responded. and he is. if he were you, he wouldn’t give himself the time of day. why would he? he doesn't deserve it.

“good,” you say with a ghost of a genuine smile. if he knew you less, he wouldn’t even be able to catch it. thankfully, he does know you, for better or for worse. his heart sings at the thought that you’re able to smile at him like you did before.

he waits for you to ask him how he is — that’d be the perfect segue into his apology — but you don’t. it’s like you don’t care to know, and any tune his heart was previously singing is strangled in an instant.

well, he supposes that he’s lucky that you’ve even said two words to him (two words in the literal sense that you’ve only actually said two words in total, but that's not the point). he’s even luckier that you actually seem to mean that you’re doing well. taehyun had told him as much, but it’s not nearly as effective as seeing you glowing the way you do with his own eyes. you look normal. you look happy. there was a point in his life where he thought that’s all he wanted, but he realizes he was wrong. he shamelessly wants to be happy, too, and he knows the only way he can do that is if he’s with you.

the air is awkward and heavy for a few minutes, but neither of you make a move to break it until you decide enough is enough. you purse your lips and are about to bid him goodbye so you can get home and ruminate on your very, very brief interaction, but he notices your movement and reaches out to grab your arm before he can stop himself. instinctively, you smack his hand away. not hard at all, more like a swipe than a smack, really, but he recoils as if you’ve just backhanded him.

“s-sorry,” you stammer. “it was just a gut reaction.” 

somehow, that makes him feel even worse. there was a time where his touch soothed you like nothing else, but now all it does is put you on your guard. 

“it’s fine,” he says with a forced smile, and your heart aches. “i was just gonna see if you wanted a ride home. i haven’t drank anything, so i just thought that… maybe…”

“oh, it’s okay,” you politely decline. “chae is going to pick me up.” he flinches at the name and as much as he wishes you couldn’t tell, you definitely do. 

“but i can take you!” he insists a little too desperately. “i just thought, you know, that we could talk or something,” he mumbles. 

“talk? about what?” you ask sharply. you begin feeling like you’re going to lose your temper. why is he making this so hard? it’s starting to piss you off.

“i—”

“if you’re going to apologize to me again, i don't want to hear it,” you sneer. you said you weren't mad at him and that you forgave him, which felt true at the time, but the more you started respecting yourself, the less patience you had for him. as you look at him, looking like he's every part like a victim in this ordeal, you realize that you’re angrier than you previously let on. “you know, i’ve thought more about what you did.” he looks like he’s just been kicked in the stomach, but you don't stop.

“and i’ve thought about what i would do for rent. i thought, ‘well, maybe if i were desperate enough for the money, i could do that, too’, and you know how desperate i was.” his lips tremble because he does know. he knows it all too well. “but i realized i couldn’t, and even if i could, i never would. the shame? the humiliation? i would never put someone through that, and i thought you would never, either, but i was wrong. i was wrong about you and the kind of person you are, or were, or whatever. and i thought, at the very least, you had enough decency to at least leave me the fuck alone, but i guess i was wrong about you again, as always.” you don’t mean for your voice to get so loud, but it does. each syllable is ripping through beomgyu like a punch to his gut, but he can’t find it within himself to defend his actions. all he can do is sit there and take it. 

devastated doesn’t even begin to encapsulate how beomgyu looks and feels, but you don’t really give a shit. you’re absolutely fuming right now, nearly shaking from releasing the anger you’ve felt for months, and he has the nerve to look like the one who’s hurt? what about you? what about how you felt when your boyfriend admitted he only dated you because he needed (more like wanted) the cash?

“babe…” you hear a familiar voice say. chaeyoung. she must be here to pick you up. your attention snaps from her to the rest of the room and you finally register that everyone has gone silent, all their stares directed towards you. embarrassed isn’t even the word. mortified is more like it. you awkwardly clear your throat and take one last scathing glance at beomgyu before grabbing chaeyoung’s arm and storming outside of taehyun’s place.

the ride home is silent — unsettlingly silent — until chaeyoung pipes up after a few minutes of driving.

“why don’t you just talk to him?” chaeyoung asks tentatively.

“what?!” you exclaim, whipping your head around to meet her gaze. 

“it’s just — i mean, i don’t think it would hurt anything if you tried,” she says cautiously, which is very, very much unlike her. 

“why? i thought you, of all people, would understand. you know what he did to me.”

“i’m not defending him, honey,” she coos, as if she’s soothing a child during a tantrum. “i’m always on your side. always.”

“then why are you saying i should hear him out? i thought you hated him!” you don't really know why, but you’re becoming more and more defensive as you speak to her. 

“i did hate him. i just think there’s more to it than that. why don't you talk me through how you’re feeling?” she suggests.

“i… i just don’t understand. i’m not who i used to be — i’m not some spineless doormat who lets people treat me like shit. don’t you think so?” you ask, sounding increasingly unsure about that sentiment to the point where it’s nearly laughable. 

“what does that have to do with hearing somebody out when you clearly want to?” she argues patiently.

“it’s just… it’s just not fair!” you exclaim. “it’s not fair how he used me. i had to try so fucking hard to rebuild myself after him.”

“as much as i love you, you and i both know you weren’t rebuilding yourself; you never had that foundation in the first place, and that’s not your fault, but it’s not beomgyu’s, either. it’s true that he treated you like shit, and you don’t have to forgive him for that, but how you felt about yourself was always so much bigger than him.”

you find yourself recoiling with each point she makes.

you hate how much she makes sense. 

“b-but still, i’m different now,” you argue, more like you’re convincing yourself instead of her. “i won’t let myself fall back into him like that.” 

“don't you trust yourself to make the right decisions? people change — you know that better than anyone. look, i’m not saying you have to or should do anything, but i think it’d be good for you to at least listen to him. you’re not doing yourself any favors by torturing yourself with ‘what if’s’ instead of just, well, talking to him.”

-

you think about it, and think about it, then think about it some more. you wonder what beomgyu could say to change anything he's done before realizing that it's impossible. but maybe chaeyoung's right, maybe he did change. does that matter, though? probably not, but you still find yourself wanting to know what he has to say. maybe you'll find it within yourself to finally let him go.

you unblock his number and, before you can think too much about it, you’re calling him. it doesn’t ring more than once before you hear the line connect.

“h-hello?”

“i’ve thought about it, and i'd like to talk.” 

“s-sure. uh, when?” he stammers.

“whenever.”

“i'll be there in 15,” he hurriedly says, as if wasting a single second will lead you to change your mind.

“okay,” you reply with a soft smile on your face, hanging up shortly thereafter.

12 minutes later, you hear a frantic knocking on your door. you open it to find beomgyu out of breath and looking incredibly disheveled. your lips almost curl up at his sorry state, but they don’t quite make it there.

“hey,” he says between pants.

you don’t respond, but you crack your door open further to let him in. he takes your cue and stands awkwardly in your living room, almost as if he’s afraid to actually touch anything. you don’t miss the way he takes everything in. some of the interior is different, but the bones of it are still the same. he doesn't know why, but the thought relieves him.

“so?” you ask after clearing your throat, effectively breaking the silence. he looks at you confusedly before seeming to remember what he’s doing here.

“r-right. i’m— i mean, i just wanted to explain,” he says meekly. 

“explain what?” 

“explain why i, uh, why i d-d—”

“dated me for a bet?” you finish, and mercifully so, because the words feel like nails when they try to leave his own throat.

“yeah. that,” he says, taking his hand and nervously scratching the back of his neck.

“mm,” you hum.

“i just want you to know that i’m sorry,” he blurts out before he has half a mind to stop himself. he knows it’s the wrong thing to say when he sees impatience flash across your features.

“we’ve established that.”

“oh. right,” he croaks, looking more and more crestfallen and lost by the second. 

“listen, beomgyu,” you sigh. “if you don’t have anything to say, i think you should just l—” 

“i do! i do have something to say!” he exclaims. you still seem agitated, but against all odds, you nod.

“back when heeseung and i, you know, made the b-bet, i knew it was wrong,” he says. “i knew it was wrong, but i still did it. i guess i just saw you as, like, a challenge or something.” you flinch at his words and cross your arms as if your insides will spill out if you don’t. he winces, but continues, anyway.

“but then i got to know you,” he quickly adds. “really know you. and i realized that you’re so much more to me than that. every day i spent with you taught me more about myself, and i didn’t like what i learned; but  i think even just being around you made me into a better person. i don’t know how to ever thank you for that, but i guess it’s worth a shot, so thank you. really.” you can’t help but feel your eyes water. you were that important to him? “and every day, i want to fucking strangle myself when i think about how much i hurt you,” he says, voice cracking at the end of his sentence. you take him all in, finally noticing the fatigue in his gaze, in his entire being. reminiscent of the way you looked nearly a year ago. instead of satisfaction at the thought that he finally knows how you felt, all you can feel is sympathy. you know how it feels to be the kind of tired even sleep can't pacify.

“i want you to know that you are the most important person in my life, a-and even if you don’t forgive me, it’s… well, i understand. but you are not a joke to me, or a challenge, or whatever. i guess i just want to tell you that i meant it when i said that i loved you, and i mean it when i say it now. because i do. i really, really do.” you are silent, trying to scan his eyes for any signs of deception or ill intent, but you can’t find any. his teary eyes and quivering lips tell you that he really means what he says. is that enough, though? can it ever be enough? maybe not, probably not, but as you stare at the tears that threaten to leave his eyes, you decide you’d like to try.

“okay,” you say. 

“o-okay? does that mean—” 

“it means we can try again. as friends. for real this time. but i’m not the same person i was. is that okay?” the tears that were once on the precipice of leaving his waterline have now begun to flow freely. fuck his stupid pride, you can have all of it if you just let him give it to you.

“y-yeah. me neither. i mean, i’m not the same person, either,” he babbles. 

“okay,” you say with a nod, ever-so-graciously wiping his tears with the pads of your thumbs, smile floating on your lips. and he just can’t help himself. 

“can i kiss you?” he asks. 

“that’s not what friends do,” you chastise playfully, “but alright. just this once.” and you’re still as kind and merciful as ever. he lets out a shaky breath.

slowly, he takes his trembling hands and pushes your hair behind your ear before leaning down and planting his lips against yours. you melt into the feeling, just like you always did when he kissed you, and you feel your heart fluttering in your chest. on beomgyu’s part, he feels like he’s in a dream. to be perfectly honest, he’s had many dreams like this since you left, but nothing compares to how sweet his present reality is. 

when he deepens the kiss, you let him. you want to say you’re unsure why, but you know it’s because you don’t want this moment to end. you two stay in each other’s arms for longer than you’d like to admit. who can blame you for it when nothing in your life has felt this right in such a long, long time? 

for beomgyu, when you two finally part, he thinks it wasn’t long enough, at all. but then, no amount of time could really satisfy him, anyway. still, when he looks into your eyes, he can’t help the unconscious pout that adorns his face when he realizes the moment is over. you can’t control the way you let out a soft laugh at it.

-

being friends with you is very, very hard. not because you're hard to be around or because there's anything wrong with you, but because, to beomgyu, you're so easy and comforting to be with. it’s all too familiar to beomgyu and he finds himself slipping into old habits such as holding your hand and tucking your hair behind your ear when you let it fall into your face. surprisingly, you let him do whatever he wants. whether that's because you missed his touch or because you just don’t want him to stop, you don’t care to figure out. when taehyun brings up the unnecessary intimacy between you two, you can’t help but blush and deny anything crooked going on, which beomgyu takes to heart every time.

he’ll wait for you to accept him, though. he’ll always wait. 

and one night when you’re watching cheesy movies on your couch with him and you look down at your intertwined hands, his thumb unconsciously rubbing against your smaller one, you realize you don’t want to deny him. 

“beomgyu?” you whisper, drawing his gaze from the screen.

“yes?” he asks, attention fully on you like a puppy ready to listen to whatever you say.

“you don’t have to wait anymore.”

-

notes pt. 2: yeah sorry if this is the corniest thing u have ever read... my fault!

permanent (sfw only): @zzhyuu @defnotleee

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[pedrospatch]

to do the right thing l part iii

Post Outbreak!Joel Miller x Pregnant! Female Reader

series masterlist

summary: You go into labor earlier than expected in the QZ; Joel and Tess help you deliver the baby; after giving birth, you and Joel follow through with a heartbreaking decision.

warnings/tags: 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI. BOSTON QZ ERA. ((TW)) PREGNANCY, mentions and references to adoption. mentions of dead bodies, child death (not what you think), descriptions of childbirth. angst. soft, protective Joel.

word count: 7.9k

a/n: Please do not hate me. That is all. (:

June, 2020

 Disposing of the infected was a shity job.

But then again, most of the civilian jobs in the Boston QZ were pretty fucking shitty.

Still. This particular one had to be the absolute shittiest of the shitty.

Having to haul dozens upon dozens of dead bodies, the accidental inhale of soot and smoke even through your makeshift mask, not to mention, the nauseating smell of burning human flesh—you’d hated getting assigned to this work detail before, but now that you were only just a few weeks shy of being nine months pregnant, it felt like actual fucking hell on earth. And, to make matters even worse, Joel had been asked by one of the officials to head over to a different site and work a different job at the very last minute. He wasn’t by your side to lend you a hand like he usually did. Before being forced by authorities to leave the site, Joel instructed you to find a familiar face and do whatever you could do to get someone to help you when you needed it.

Luckily, on the other side of the open fire pit, you’d spotted Kevin. A younger man in his early twenties, you knew Kevin was something of an avid pill popper and one of Joel’s secret regulars. In exchange for a couple of oxycodone pills that you produced from the pockets of Joel’s jacket you were wearing, he had agreed to help you haul the heavier bodies and toss them in the fire pit.

“You know, you used to be real strong,” Kevin mused out loud as he took the shoulders of a heftier male body. Through a labored grunt, he continued, “You never needed anybody's help.”

You narrowed your eyes at him as you took the lower half of the body into your arms, taking subtle care not to strain yourself to the point of hurting yourself—or the baby. “Shut up and move, Kevin.”

“I’m just saying.”

“Seriously, Kevin,” You managed to say to him through gritted teeth as you helped him carry the body. “I’ll throw in another fucking pill if you just shut the fuck up, how about that?”

“Never used to be so cranky, either. Jesus, Miller’s really rubbing off on you, isn’t he?”

Ignoring him, you inhaled a deep breath, exhaling it as you two lifted the body and flung it into the pit. As you turned back towards the canopied pickup truck for the next one, your eyes fell on the tiniest little body that you had ever seen and you simply froze, a chill running up the length of your spine.

While it wasn’t the first time that you’d ever had to dump the body of an infected child, this one had to be the smallest—the youngest. Though his head had been covered with a brown, burlap sack just like the rest of the bodies, anyone with two fucking eyes and half of one brain cell could guess that he was, at most, around the age of a toddler.

“Jesus,” You whispered, noticing the dirty, bloodied white bandage around his teeny little arm. That’s where he’d been infected.

Kevin’s voice came from behind you. “Oh come on, this can’t be your first time seeing a kid, right?”

Your mouth had gone as dry as sandpaper. “I—I’ve never seen one this young,” You told him, feeling your heart sink into your stomach. “He couldn’t have been older than three or something.” Unable to fathom what had to come next, you turned to Kevin and shook your head. “I’ll need you to do this one. I just can’t.”

“Sure thing, sweet cheeks.” He raised an eyebrow and looked around before lowering his voice. “Just as long as you go back home tonight and let that guarddog boyfriend of yours know how much I helped you out, you know, since he wasn’t around to do it himself.” He paused, his beady, dark little eyes twinkling in sheer delight. “Maybe a two for the price of one discount during our next business transaction would be an appropriate way for him to show me some gratitude?”

If Joel could see the smirk on Kevin’s face, he’d knock it right off with his fist.

“Greedy motherfucker, aren’t you?” You muttered under your breath, before finally nodding your head in agreement. “Fine. I’ll make sure Joel hooks it up on your next deal.” Fat chance of that happening.

Satisfied, Kevin grinned and pushed past you, picking up the child’s body.

Unable to bring yourself to watch him toss it into the roaring flames, you hurriedly walked around to the side of the pickup truck, yanking down the red bandana you used as a mask down from over your nose and mouth. Placing a hand on the side of the truck, you hunched over and closed your eyes for a brief second. “Jesus Christ,” You groaned in a whisper to yourself. “I think I’m going to be fucking sick.”

You half expected to toss your afternoon crackers right there onto the pavement in front of you. However, instead, just a split second later, you felt a sudden cramp in the middle of your pelvis—subtle, but still enough to make you wince. It was immediately followed by a feeling of intense pressure between your legs. Before your mind could even wrap itself around what was happening, there was a gush between your thighs, and warm liquid started trickling down the sides of your legs.

Shit.

Terrified, you glanced down.

Though they were dirty, you could distinctly see the wet patches on your faded, dark blue jeans. “No, no, no. This can’t be happening. It’s too fucking early—”

“Hey! What the hell are you doing over here? Who the fuck said you could stop and take a break?” One of the FEDRA officials who had been assigned to stand guard at the work site came up behind you, his weapon gripped tightly in his hands. When you whirled around to face him, his eyes fell and instantly noticed your soaked jeans. A look of disgust crossed his face. “Jesus. Did you just fucking piss yourself?”

“No—” You stopped yourself, realizing this could be your ticket out of there. “Yeah,” You replied, nodding your head, causing him to let out a repulsed noise. “Sorry. I just saw a little kid, must have made me—”

He held up one of his hands, stopping you. “Save it. I don’t give two shits,” he told you with a shake of his head. “Get your ass home right now and change your clothes, then come back. Make it quick. There’s still a lot of work to be done around here. Understood?”

You nodded again. The muscles in your pelvic area tightened and the feeling drew the tiniest of sharp breaths from you—your contractions were starting. “Yeah,” You managed to say to the official, keeping a straight face. “I’ll be back as fast as I can.”

He dismissively waved you away with his weapon and then stalked off back over to his post.

Letting out a small sigh of relief, you turned on your heel and started to make your way back to the apartment as quickly as possible.

Although the building was about a mile and a half up the road, it felt like you were trekking your way across the fucking country. You felt two more contractions along the way, and while their intensity was still pretty low in such an early stage of your labor, they still hurt like hell. They started around your lower back and gradually moved around to the front of your pelvis. You tried to push past the discomfort in order to get home as quick as possible, but every now and again, you found yourself having to stop in the middle of the sidewalk for just a brief second or two, only long enough to recollect and remind yourself that you needed to get a goddamn grip before someone noticed your strange behavior. Once the building finally came into your view, all you could do was silently pray that by some fucking miracle, Joel would be up there in that apartment, home from work detail.

Your prayer went unanswered.

When you opened the door to your quarters and walked inside, you’d found Tess home by herself. She was sitting at the table, sipping on a glass of whiskey and mindlessly flipping through a decades old newspaper.

“Tess,” You said her name, causing her to look up. “Where’s Joel?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“It’s fucking happening.”

Tess stared at you, her eyes widening slightly. “Wait, what?”

“The baby’s coming,” You informed her, pointing down to your damp jeans. Though you were panicking on the inside, you tried your best to remain as calm as humanly possible. “Where the fuck is Joel?”

Tess tossed aside her newspaper and stood up from the table. “I told you, I don’t know. I know he was reassigned but I’m not sure where—he sure as hell wasn’t with me.” She walked over to you, taking you by the elbow. She pulled you over towards the couch and helped you sit down. “I thought you said it would be at least a few more weeks before the baby came.”

You couldn’t help but shoot her an annoyed look. “Well, he’s coming now, Tess. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

“How long ago did it start?”

“About half an hour ago, maybe. I was at the pits and my water broke after I saw—” You trailed off, deciding the details of what you had seen back at the work site weren’t necessary to disclose to her. “I’ve had a couple of contractions, but they’re pretty far apart.”

“It could be several hours before the baby comes, but there’s still no fucking way that we’ll be able to get you over to Bill and Frank’s in time.” Tess chewed anxiously on her bottom lip as she wracked her brain for any other possible options—it took her mere seconds to realize that there weren’t any other options. “You’re going to have to give birth here.”

“Fantastic,” You deadpanned, leaning back into the couch.

“Okay, here’s the deal. You stay put and I’m going to go out and find Joel. I know there’s a couple of places where he might have been assigned and if I’m right, I can be back with him quickly.” Tess pulled off her watch from her wrist. It was old and cracked, but otherwise, it still worked fine. “I need you to time your contractions. Try and be as accurate as possible.” She then reached into the back pocket of her jeans, producing a red handkerchief.  She handed it to you along with the watch. “Listen. I know it’s going to hurt like hell, but you need to be as quiet as possible. Last thing we need is for someone to hear you and come running in here, especially while I’m gone. If you need to, you bite down on this to keep quiet, alright?”

You swallowed harshly, taking both of the items with nearly trembling fingers. “Alright.”

“Don’t worry. I’m going to find Joel and we’ll be back,” she promised you. “You stay right here, okay?”

“Because I’m such a fucking flight risk right now?”

“Even during labor, you’re still a fucking smartass, huh?” Tess rolled her eyes and reached for her jacket. 

You watched her as she readied herself to take off. “Tess?”

“Yeah?”

“Hurry. Please.”

“Fuck,” You hissed, both of your hands planted on your lower back as you paced back and forth in the kitchen, trying your best to breathe your way through another contraction.

 It had been over an hour and a half and Tess still hadn’t returned with Joel.

Your labor was progressing a lot quicker than you’d anticipated and while it could still be at least a couple more hours before the baby was born, you were still terrified at the mere thought of having to deliver him alone. You needed Joel—you didn’t want to have to do this without him.

“Jesus, fuck,” You cursed through clenched teeth. The waves of pain that were coming at you were almost enough to physically knock you off of your feet and right onto your ass. Tess had been smart to give you her handkerchief. During one particularly painful contraction, you’d shoved it into your mouth, muffling your cries of agony.

Another hour had passed and you were genuinely starting to believe that you were indeed going to have to give birth to the baby all alone in that apartment. “Where the fuck are you guys?” You mumbled to yourself. Perhaps something had happened to them—Joel and Tess had spent ample amounts of time in FEDRA lockup for the stunts that they pulled and it wouldn’t surprise you if they had gone and done something stupid, putting themselves behind bars for the night.

In an attempt to keep your mind from continuously wandering to worst case scenarios, you walked over to the kitchen sink and quickly filled up a large, chipped porcelain bowl with water. You rummaged around for the cleanest washcloth that you could find and then picked up the bowl in your hands, taking care not to spill as you hastily made your way around the single wall that divided the kitchen from the bedroom. You placed the bowl of water on top of the old, cherrywood dresser that separated yours and Joel’s bed from Tess’s bed and immediately started peeling off your dirty clothes. Wanting to hurry before another contraction came along, you dipped the cloth into the water and started running it all over your body, wiping away any soot and dirt that you’d brought home from the work site.

After you had finished cleaning yourself off as best as you possibly could under the circumstances, you searched through the drawers and grabbed one of Joel’s cleaner t-shirts, tugging it over your head. Even with the size of your swollen midsection, his shirt still fit you loosely enough, the hem of it falling to the top of your thighs. You’d finished just in time—another contraction starting coming on and you dropped down onto the bed, gripping the edge of the mattress as you hunched over in a world of hurt. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

As it subsided, the sound of the front door opening caused your head to snap up and your heart to skip a beat. Had you been too loud? Or perhaps a neighbor had walked by and heard you?

“Baby?” Joel’s deep voice filled the small apartment. When he appeared around the wall and saw you, a look of utter relief crossed his face and he rushed over to you, Tess following behind him. He crouched down in front of you, both of his hands flying up to the sides of your face. “M’sorry darlin’, I got here as fast I could—”

Though you could have nearly cried from happiness that he was right there in front of you, you found yourself snapping at him, “What took you so fucking long? It’s been fucking hours!”

Tess jumped to Joel’s defense. “I’m sorry, it’s on me! It’s my fault. It took me forever just to fucking find his ass and then we had to find a way to sneak him away from the work site without anyone noticing,” she explained, holding her hands up. “Not to mention, he was on the other end of the fucking QZ. We got here as fast as we could—how far apart are they coming?”

You winced. The truth was, you’d been so busy trying to get through the contractions that you hadn’t been timing them at all. “About that.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I gave you one fucking job—”

“Look, they’re still decently far apart by a few minutes.” You placed a hand on your stomach, suddenly admitting, “But I do feel the urge to push already.”

Joel’s hands slowly dropped from your face and he glanced over his shoulder and up at Tess, looking confused. “Think it’s time?”

She shook her head. “I know it’s going to feel like you need to push as you get closer, but don’t,” she warned you, firmly. “Not yet. They need to come closer together, about a minute to thirty seconds apart. If you start to push too early, you could hurt the baby. Or tear yourself apart.” Tess took off her jacket, tossing it on a nearby chair. “Joel, keep her as comfortable as you can. I’m going to start gathering some supplies. She may not be ready to push now, but I’m thinking within the hour, it’ll be time.”

“Within the hour?” You nearly squeaked.

Joel turned back to you and cupped your face again. The familiarity of his rough, calloused hands on your skin brought some calmness, not enough to completely take your fears away, but just enough that you were able to stay somewhat level headed, even through every single emotion that you were feeling. “Baby, I know you're scared,” he said, his thumb grazing against your cheek. “But I promise you, everythin’ is gonna be just fine, alright? Look at me, right here, look at me,” he urged as he held your face firmly in his hands, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’re gonna be fine. I won’t let anythin’ happen to you.”

“Joel, it’s childbirth,” You reminded him, smiling wearily. “Don’t make a promise you don’t know if you can actually keep.”

Though he knew deep down inside that you had a point, he repeated himself. “I won’t let anythin’ happen to you. Okay?”

You offered him a small, meek nod. “Okay.”

Joel lifted himself, pressing his lips gently to yours. He pulled away, murmuring against your lips, “That’s my girl.”

The hour that followed had been nothing short of horrific—the pain had become almost unbearable by this point. There wasn’t a single inch of your entire body that wasn’t drenched, soaked in perspiration. Your hair was an absolute mess, plastered to your forehead and to the sides of your face. Tess sat on her bed, waiting on standby for when it was time to deliver. Meanwhile, Joel, could only hold your hand in his and watch helplessly as you tried not to cry out too loudly.

“Joel,” You nearly pleaded his name, as if pleading for him to take his gun and put you out of your misery.

“I know, baby, I know,” he murmured soothingly, squeezing your hand in both of his. “I know it hurts.”

“What if I can’t do this?”

“Sorry, sweet darlin’ but you don’t have much of a choice,” he reminded you. He looked and sounded so fucking tired, so fucking exhausted—and he was. He was exhausted from having to sit there and witness you hurt while there wasn’t a goddamn thing he could do about it.

Once the contractions started coming in at less than a minute apart, Tess checked you. “I can feel the head. It’s time to start pushing,” she announced. Rolling up the sleeves of her shirt up to her elbows, she started giving you instructions. “You’re going to bear all the way down into your bottom as hard as you can. We’ll do ten second counts with short, quick rests in between each push until he comes out. Alright?”

You just about panicked. “Joel—”

“M’right here,” he quickly assured you. “Not goin’ anywhere.”

During the process, Joel had decided to sit behind you, his long legs on either side of you as he held you up at just a couple degrees shy of a ninety degree angle. Tess kneeled on the mattress between your legs, holding your knees apart as she counted through each push out loud for you.

You sank your front teeth hard into your bottom lip, the coppery taste of blood filling your mouth as you tried your hardest from screaming out.

“One, two, three, four—” Tess counted the numbers aloud until she reached the number ten. She watched you as you released a breath, and tapped your knee gently. “Come on, we’re almost there. He’s right there, you’re so fucking close. The harder you push, the quicker this will all be over. So give me one more big, strong push, alright?”

Joel squeezed your shoulders, his lips at your ear as he whispered to you over and over again, “C’mon baby, we’re almost there. It’s almost over.”

You were completely spent, exhausted both physically and mentally beyond what mere words could even explain. Close or not, you simply didn’t have it in you to keep going.

“I’m sorry, I can’t,” You moaned, shaking your head as you slumped back against his chest, your head falling into his shoulder. Your body felt like it was just moments away from giving out on you. “I can’t do it, Joel. I just can’t fucking do this—”

“You can and you fucking will,” Tess all but snapped at you, forcing your knees further apart. “Come on, all I need is one more push. Just one fucking more.”

“But—”

“Baby, please,” Joel begged into your neck. “You have to do this.”

You whimpered. They were right—you didn’t have a choice.

“Okay. One more.” You gave a small, weak nod of your head.

Joel helped you sit back up into the previous position, using his body to help support yours. He kissed the back of your head, his hands on your shoulders again. “Good girl,” he praised, bracing himself to help you through the tail end of the delivery.

“Alright, let’s do this.” Tess positioned herself, her hands ready to receive the baby once he was born. “On the count of three. One, two, three—and push. Come on, that’s it. Come on.” Squeezing your eyes shut, you followed her encouraging words, bearing down as hard as you could muster while Joel counted you through that last strenuous push. “Baby’s out!” Tess nearly cried, and you quickly opened your eyes to see her holding the baby in her arms. 

“Is he okay?” You panted, your chest heaving as you fought to catch your breath. Only mere seconds had passed, but already you found yourself in a state of anxiety over the fact that the baby hadn’t made a single sound yet. “He hasn’t cried—why hasn’t he cried?”

“She,” Tess corrected you, her eyes fixed on the newborn as she worked to clean her off with a damp washcloth. She rubbed her chest in quick, firm circles in an attempt to get her to take her first breath.

Your heart skipped a beat—you’d had a girl?

Behind you, Joel inhaled sharply, his body stiffening.

You watched in concern, your lips parted slightly at the sight before you. Not having the proper tools to clear the child’s airway, Tess tried everything and anything that she could think of to help the baby breathe. As the seconds turned into a minute, and then into two, your heart had all but climbed its way up your throat—never had you heard a silence so deafening.

“Tess,” Joel said her name, his tone dangerously low.

“Fuck Joel, I’m trying here!” Tess snapped at him. She let out a small, frustrated sigh and then turned the baby over onto her forearm. She started patting the infant’s back with her opposite hand. “Come on, sweetheart. Come on, you’re alright. Please breathe. Please—”

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the baby sputtered and let out a wet cough before a small, quick cry filled the entire apartment. 

“Fuck,” You breathed out in complete and utter relief. You sagged back against Joel, who’d also released the breath he’d been holding.

“Shh,” Tess soothed her, flipping the baby back over and bouncing her in her arms in an attempt to quiet her.  

Joel carefully climbed out from behind you, helping you to lean back, up against the wall. “You alright?”

“Better now that I know she’s okay.”

“She’s small, definitely at least a couple of weeks premature, but she looks healthy,” Tess observed. She single handedly clamped the cord, cutting it with a pair of sharp shears before she finished cleaning her off. She reached for the flannel throw blanket next to her, however upon picking it up, she had realized it wasn’t a blanket at all. It was Joel’s flannel jacket, the very same one that you’d worn for most of your pregnancy. But it had been washed the day before and it would do for the time being. Tess wrapped the baby in the jacket before easing her into your arms. Knowing that you’d never held a baby before, Tess reached out and maneuvered your arms, making sure that you were holding her properly, supporting her head and neck. “That’s it. There you go.”

Your heart swelled to twice its normal size inside of your chest and an inexplicable warmth radiated throughout every fiber of your being the moment you laid your eyes on her sweet, tiny little face. “Hi, there,” You cooed gently to her. “Welcome to the shitshow.”

Tess chuckled, crossing her arms over her chest. “Son of a bitch. We fucking did it.”

“What the hell do you mean we?” You rolled your eyes in a joking manner. The truth of the matter was that you would forever be in her debt for all that she had done to help you, not just through childbirth—through everything. 

You then glanced over at Joel, who stood silently behind her, hands planted on his hips.

He said nothing, but his dark brown eyes were glued to the newborn.

Tess cleared her throat lightly, breaking the momentary silence that had suddenly fallen over the three of you. “I’ll give you a minute to take a breather while I go clean myself up. I’ll be back to show you how to feed her.”

She excused herself, heading off towards the kitchen.

Joel shuffled awkwardly from foot to foot. “You—uh, you sure you’re alright?”

“Mhm,” You replied with a nod, unable to contain the small smile that crossed your lips as you drank in the sight of the beautiful baby girl in your arms. She had been born with a head full of dark hair—instantly, she reminded you of Joel. “She’s so little.”

Joel said nothing.

Looking up, you noticed the way his eyes took her in—the same way yours did. 

Part of you almost wanted to ask him if he wanted to hold her.

But you knew better.

“We’ll radio Bill and Frank tomorrow in the morning to let them know she’s here ,” Tess said, coming back into the room. She used a damp cloth to wipe away the blood and other fluids from her forearms. “As soon as you’re able to move, you’ll have to get her over to them.”

Your face fell slightly. “Wait, how soon are we talking?”

“Thinking maybe in a couple days—soon as you can walk.”

Your heart sank deeply into your chest.

Just a couple of days? 

That’s all you would get with her?

Noticing the crestfallen expression on your face, Joel nodded. “Tess is right,” he agreed. “We can’t hide a cryin’ baby in this apartment for too long without someone catchin’ on. The sooner we get her over to Bill and Frank’s, the better.”

You somehow managed to swallow the lump of emotion that had risen in your throat as you looked back down at her tiny face—your daughter’s tiny face.

“Think of a name for her yet?” Tess asked you, tossing her dirty cloth aside.

Joel quickly stepped in and answered for you. “Best you don’t.”

“What?” You stared at him in disbelief. Although neither of you had discussed it, you’d thought that at the very least Joel would allow you to name your child—his child.

“The less attached you are to her, the better.” His tone was short, almost curt. “Less harder it’ll be.”

Even Tess was taken by surprise. “Joel, come on. Are you fucking seri—?”

He held up a hand to stop her. Whirling around on the hell of his boot, Joel said over his shoulder as he left the room, “I’ll be outside. Need some air.”

Your lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. “I guess he’s right.”

The mattress squeaked, shifting slightly as Tess took a seat right next to you on the bed. “You know it’s going to hurt him too,” she told you, quietly. “He’ll never admit it. But when the time comes, it’ll hurt him too.”

“I know,” You whispered, grazing the baby’s cheek lightly with the tip of your index finger.

“Joel loves you, you know.”

Tess’s words caught you by surprise. “Tess—don’t. You don’t need to do this.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You know, I never thought that man could be capable of loving anyone else ever again, not in this life. Hell, I tried for fucking years just to get him to feel a fraction of what I felt for him and nothing.” Her voice became thick with the emotions that she’d undoubtedly been suppressing for the last few years. “I don’t know what is about you, what drew him to you. But he does love you. More than fucking anything.”

“He’ll probably never admit that either.”

Tess smiled sadly. “I know.”

The five hour trip on foot from the Boston QZ to Lincoln was one that you had gotten used to over the last couple of years, but this trip had been something of a struggle for you, to say the very least.

Between being only a couple of days postpartum, having to make frequent stops to feed the baby, and having her strapped tightly to your chest in a makeshift baby carrier—which in reality was actually just a bedsheet that wrapped around your upper body—you felt quite worn out by the time you and Joel finally made it to Bill and Frank’s.

“Come in, come in,” Frank placed a hand gently on your back as he ushered you inside of the house. “How are you doing? Are you okay?” He tossed a little glare over his shoulder at Joel. “Shame on you for making her walk three days after giving birth! Surely you could have waited at least a few more days before making the trip?”

Joel let out a small, impatient huff and rolled his eyes in response.

“We didn’t wanna risk being caught with her,” You quickly explained as he led you both into the living room. “Our walls are paper thin and she cries real loud. We didn’t wanna risk having the neighbors reporting us to FEDRA.”

“She’s a crier?” Bill, who kept his distance, scoffed. “Great.”

“Oh, stop it, Bill. I’m sure she’ll be a very good baby,” Frank waved his hand dismissively at him. 

“Can you guys help me unwrap?” You asked, lightly tugging at the sheet. “This thing is so uncomfortable.”

Both Joel and Frank helped untie and remove it from around your body.

“Oh my word.” Frank’s hand flew to his mouth and tears instantly welled in his eyes as soon as saw her. “I never thought I’d see—” He trailed off, but you knew what he meant. He never thought he’d see another child ever again, much less a newborn baby. Frank knew better than to overstep or to push you too quickly, and despite his immediate urge to ask you if he could hold her already, he simply settled for lightly touching his fingertips to her tufts of soft, dark hair. “Oh, she’s so beautiful! Isn’t she beautiful, Bill?”

“Looks like an ordinary baby to me,” he grumbled, though as he eyed the child, there was a strange little glint in his eye. Bill, like Frank, also never thought that he’d ever see something like her again.

Frank sniffed, dabbing his tears away with the back of his hand. “Oh! I have some onesies from the boutique, let me grab one for you,” he stated, realizing that the baby was naked, with the exception of the improvised diaper you had her in. “She’s kind of small, even for a newborn. Do you think she came early?” He asked over his shoulder as he walked over to the other side of the room towards a pile of cardboard boxes. “I know it’s hard to tell what week you reached gestation.”

“We think so,” You said, carefully taking a seat on the couch. “She’s small, but she’s healthy. She eats well, she mostly sleeps through the night unless she wakes up hungry or needing to be changed.”

“Here.” Frank walked back over to you and handed you a cream colored onesie printed with yellow sunflowers. He also handed you a matching cloth diaper. “They’re preemie size, but I have a box of newborn sizes too if they’re too snug on her. You let me know what you think is best, alright?”

It didn’t take you very long to realize that Frank was allowing you just a taste of what it was like to properly and normally care for your baby, just like any mother would in a pre-outbreak world. 

Part of you wished that he wouldn’t bother, but you still appreciated his kindness nonetheless.

Frank laid a soft, pink blanket on the couch for you to lay her on.

As you changed her, you felt Joel watching almost intently.

Since she’d been born, he still hadn’t held her. You didn’t take offense to it, nor did it hurt your feelings that he refused to touch her, because you knew how he was feeling—what he was feeling. You would often catch him stealing long, lingering glances at her whenever he’d think you weren’t paying attention. Deep down in your heart, you knew he ached to interact with her, that he wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and give into his paternal instincts. But he was simply trying to make this process as painless for himself as possible. Joel didn’t want to risk developing any kind of attachment to her. 

“Does she have a name?” Frank asked, holding his hands behind his back as he watched you button up the onesie. At this point, he was itching to hold her for the first time, but he wanted to respect what little time you had left to interact with her.

Sure, you would be able to see her every now and again, but Joel was adamant of keeping visits to a minimum.

“She doesn’t,” You replied in a soft voice. “We didn’t name her.”

Joel, who had taken a seat in the rocking chair next to the couch, raked a hand through his hair as Frank shot him glare, as if he knew whose idea it had been to not give her a name. “S’only right for you two to choose a name. We ain’t got no business givin’ her a name.”

“He’s right,” You said, before Frank could protest. “It’s best we leave that to you and Bill.”

Frank touched your shoulder. The sympathy in his eyes nearly made you burst into tears on the spot. Wanting to allow for a brief change of subject, he offered, “How about we all have a bite to eat? Hmm? Surely you must be starving after that long walk.”

You forced a small smile. Food was the last thing on your mind. “That would be nice,” you fibbed. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you refused to put the baby down.

Your arms ached from holding her for so long—but you couldn’t care less. It was one ache that you would happily deal with for the rest of your natural born life if it meant never having to let her go.

Frank had been completely understanding of your desire to keep her with you for as long as you possibly could. Being the incredibly sweet, kind soul that he was, he showed you nothing but patience and didn’t question you, nor did he push you or grill you on whether or not you had changed your mind about leaving her in their care. Bill, being Bill, had muttered a few, passive aggressive incoherencies towards you under his breath over lunch—something about how for someone who claimed they wouldn’t have a problem giving up their baby, you sure as hell seemed to have a hard time letting her out of your grasp.

However, once the late afternoon finally rolled around, you knew that the time for you to say goodbye was on the horizon. As much as you fucking wished you could, there was no changing your mind, not if you wanted your daughter to live safely, happily.

“Bill? Frank? Do you think we can have a minute with her, just the two of us?” You asked them. You had all moved back into the living room after lunch. Knowing time was running out, you hoped that you and Joel could have one last moment alone with her before it was time to leave.

“Of course.” Frank nodded and tugged on Bill’s arm. “We’ll be out in the front yard—the plants need some watering.”

You shot him a tiny, grateful smile. As they disappeared, you leaned back into the couch and made yourself comfortable with the baby.

Joel, who sat over in the rocking chair as he had earlier, pursed his lips. “Don’t make this harder than it needs to be,” he said, shaking his head at you. “We really should just hand her over and go home.”

“It’s going to be hard no matter what, Joel. May as well enjoy her for a while longer.” You glanced down at her just as she started fussing herself awake. She looked up at you with her dark eyes. “Hello, sweet girl,” You greeted her in a soothing voice as she cooed. 

Joel watched with a heaviness in his heart as you kissed the infant’s cheek delicately. How he wished you would just fucking listen to him.

“You’re going to be safe here,” You told her, lifting your hand to her hair; the ends were beginning to curl slightly. “I know you might grow up and have questions one day, and who knows, maybe when you’re all grown up, you’ll know the truth about everything and you’ll understand why we did what we did.” You paused. “This is the right thing to do, sweet girl. It's the best thing for you. Frank is going to make a great dad, and Bill—well, Bill is Bill. But I know you’ll have him wrapped around your little finger in no time. I promise there’s a softie underneath that grumpy exterior, just have to bring it out of him, is all.” Despite it all, you couldn’t help but laugh a little. 

Joel craned his neck ever so slightly to get a better look at her. “She’s so alert,” he observed. “Y’know, for bein’ a couple days old and all.”

You glanced up at him. Somehow, you mustered up the courage to ask, “Joel? Do you want to hold her?”

Joel hesitated. But you were shocked he didn’t immediately decline.

That meant that he did.

You carefully stood up from the couch and slowly walked over to him. Giving her another kiss on the cheek, you held her out towards him.

Joel looked at her reluctantly, but then gave in and took her into his arms. He leaned his weight back into the chair and started rocking, knowing the movement would be soothing for the baby. “She’s got your nose,” he murmured, watching as the motion started luring her into another slumber.

“That head of hair is all you, though,” You told him with a tiny, sad smile. “I’m going to go get a glass of water from the kitchen. I’ll be right back.”

Moments later, when you’d returned, you stopped in your tracks out in the hallway when you heard Joel speaking. Furrowing your brows, you leaned your back against the wall and listened in to what he was saying.

“Hi babygirl,” he started, his voice low but gentle. “Everythin’ your mama just told you, well, she’s right. We’re doin’ this to keep you safe. We wanna give you a chance at a decent life. She doesn’t wanna give you up. Neither do I,” he confessed. “But we can’t—I can’t keep you safe. I can barely keep your mama safe most of the time, y’know.”

You hung your head, willing yourself to hold back the tears.

“I didn’t want you, at least not at first,” Joel continued to say, an ever so slight tremble to his voice. “Thought you were the biggest mistake we ever could’ve made. But now that you’re here and I’m holdin’ you in my arms, I realize I was wrong. I’m glad you’re here, babygirl. This world is ugly, but you remind me that there’s still beauty in it. Not a whole lot, but just enough to shine a little light in the darkness.”

Joel paused and as you peeked around into the living room, you saw him press his lips carefully to her cheek, right where you’d kissed her too. “You won’t be ours after today, but that doesn’t really matter. At the end of the day, you’re always gonna hold a place in my heart. Right next to your big sister. Alright?”

A tear slipped down your cheek, and you quickly wiped it away with the back of your free hand. As soon as you were certain that he’d said all he had needed to say, you walked into the living room and offered him a sip of your water, behaving as if you hadn’t just heard him pour his heart out to his baby daughter. Joel moved over onto the couch with you and for the next couple of hours, the two of you took turns holding her. By the time early evening arrived, you realized that you and Joel were really pushing it. And knowing Bill, you were absolutely overstaying your welcome.

“So, we just wanted to check in with you two,” Frank said tentatively, nervously wringing his hands together as walked into the room with a very unhappy Bill trailing behind him. “It’ll be getting dark soon.”

You and Joel stood from the couch; he handed the baby over to you.

Your heart lodged in your throat, you walked over to Frank and eased her into his arms. “Here you are.”

Taking a step backwards, you watched as he looked down at her, his face beaming.

“Fatherhood looks good on you,” You couldn’t help but tell him. And you meant it.

Frank was going to make the most incredible, loving father. 

“Does it?” Although he was smiling, he sounded nervous.

“You’re going to be a natural,” You touched his arm lightly. “We know she’s going to be in the best possible care.” Dropping your hand back down to your side, you glanced over at Joel, who stood there silently, his jaw clenched. “We’d better be going.”

“You know you’re more than welcome to come and see her whenever you’d like,” Frank offered. “We really wouldn’t mind that.”

“Don’t take that too literally,” Bill gruffed behind him. “The less visits, the better.”

You nodded, your voice cracking slightly as you said, “We know.”

“Let’s get a move on.” Joel nudged you lightly with his elbow. Did you just hear his voice break a little too?

After one final goodbye, about five minutes later, you and Joel found yourselves on the other side of the fence.

Joel noticed the expression on your face. He could see you crumbling right in front of his very own eyes like a pastry. He didn’t know what to say or do to make it better—hell, he knew nothing was going to make it better. He wanted so badly to reach out and put his arms around you, but he was afraid that one touch would cause you to come undone. “C’mon, we need to get movin’ before it gets too late or we’ll freeze our asses off,” he reminded you quietly. He started leading the way, but turned around when he realized you weren’t following behind him. “Baby—”

And just like that, the sob you’d been fighting finally escaped you.

“I’m sorry, Joel,” You quickly shook your head, trying desperately to stop the tears, but it was too late.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s alright—”

Before Joel could reach out for you, you sank down to your knees on the gravel. You placed your hands over your mouth, trying to muffle the sound of your cries. You knew it would be hard, but nothing could have prepared you for the god awful feeling of leaving Bill and Frank’s empty handed, without your baby daughter in your arms.

Joel sighed softly and crouched down beside you, pulling you into his arms. “Shh, baby. I know,” he tried soothing you, one hand around your shoulders and the other gingerly stroking your hair. “I know.”

Though nightfall was fast approaching, he didn’t push you. He simply held you until you eventually ran out of tears and little hiccups were all that was left. “I’m so sorry.”

“Stop fuckin’ sayin’ you’re sorry,” Joel said, squeezing your body against his to keep you warm against the chilly, evening breeze. “You have nothin’ to be sorry for, alright?”

“It hurts. I know we did the right thing, but it hurts so fucking bad.”

Joel pulled away and looked down at you. The sadness was evident in his gaze. “We did do the right thing. She’s going to be safer here than she could ever be with us in the QZ,” he reminded you, as if you didn’t already know that. “At least here, she’ll be well fed. She’ll have running water. She’ll get to enjoy fresh, clean air. She’ll get to run around the front yard and play in the grass. She won’t have to walk home from fuckin’ FEDRA school past a fire pit full of burnin’ bodies every goddamn day.”

“Maybe it’s just me being selfish, but that doesn’t make it hurt any fucking less, Joel,” You confessed, the guilt causing a fresh batch of tears to brim your eyes. “I know we’ll still get the chance to see her every now and again, but it’s not enough. It won’t ever be enough for me.”

He leaned down, leaning his forehead against yours. “I know. Won’t ever be enough for me either.”

You closed your eyes, another tear finding its way down your cheek. “How the fuck are you supposed to go on when you feel like a part of your heart is missing?”

“You just do,” Joel whispered. “You just move on. Try to, anyway.” He rose to his feet and pulled you up with him. “When I lost Sarah, I had nothing. Nobody. Tommy wasn’t someone I could count on, he was too busy thinkin’ he could save the fuckin’ world.” He chuckled bitterly. “So I carried that grief with me for years, all on my own. Like the weight of a thousand bricks strapped to my fuckin’ back.”

“Joel…” You opened your eyes, your gazes meeting together.

He lightly brushed his lips against forehead. “You ain’t alone, darlin’. You have me and I ain’t gonna let you carry this pain alone. You understand me? Never.”

“I know that,” You choked out. 

Joel pulled you against him once again, his arms wrapping themselves around you. 

“I love you.”

It was just above a whisper, barely audible but you’d heard him.

Clutching fistfuls of his jacket, you buried your face into his chest, uttering, “I love you too.”

[st-eve-barnes]

Leverage (Michael Gavey x fem Reader)

Chapter 1

Summary: When your ex threatens to release some very personal videos you are left with no choice but to do what he asks: seduce the biggest nerd on campus, Michael Gavey. Will you rock his world or will he fundamentally change yours?

Word count: +2300

Warning for the entire fic: 18+ for explicit content and language. Kissing, oral sex (male receiving), dry humping, hand job, fingering, p in v sex. First kiss and loss of virginity. Experienced reader. Enemies to lovers vibes.

Fluff, smut and of course angst (my favorite combination! lol) I haven't watched Saltburn yet so all characters in this fic except for Michael are my own.

Chapter 2 will be posted next week and the plan is to post weekly, there will be 4-5 chapters (depending on how far the muse takes me)

***

All my fics are also on AO3

***

You should have known something was off the second Ben sat down in front of you in the library that morning. You two hadn’t spoken since you’d broken up, some 6 months ago now. The split had been amicable but neither of you had felt the need to pretend to remain friends afterwards. He was a stranger to you now and you preferred it that way.

You both moved in different social circles in the university these days, meaning he was living his dream as a popular fuck boy getting drunk every night and you spent most nights in your dorm room focusing on your studying.

“I need a favor,” he bluntly started the conversation.

“No,” you answered without looking up from your book.

“I think you should hear me out first.”

“Ben, we haven’t spoken in months,” you sighed,”What makes you think I would help you now?”

He leaned closer to you over the table, making you lean back to keep the distance between you two.

“The firm I’ve been dreaming of getting into is offering an internship to whoever scores highest on this upcoming test,” he explained.

“Great, you should start hitting the books then.”

“It’s no use.”

“Why not? I thought you were so smart?”

“I am so smart,” he smirked, making you roll your eyes,”But not as smart as him.”

You looked up and noticed he wasn’t looking at you anymore but his gaze was drawn to the guy sitting a few tables away. You recognized him instantly: ugly outdated shirt, even uglier beige cargo pants and big glasses on his nose, buried into his books as usual. The biggest nerd on campus and beyond: Michael Gavey.

“He’s your competition?” you snorted,”Good luck with that!”

“Luck won’t help me, that’s why I need your help.”

“What on earth am I going to do? I suck at math, you know that.”

“That’s not why I need you,” he shook his head and sighed,”A job at that firm is my dream, it’s what I’ve always wanted and worked towards for the past two years.”

“And if you pass that test you’ll get it.”

“Nobody can beat Gavey, everyone knows the guy’s a fucking genius.”

“Then he deserves the internship, don’t you think?”

”He can literally get any job he chooses, I need this one and I won’t let that freak take it from me.”

For the first time you leaned forward and looked into his eyes, indulging him and giving into your own curiosity.”What do you want from me then?”

“Look at him, I bet that guy’s never even had a girl look at him twice, especially not a pretty girl like you, that dude’s got virgin written all over him, hasn’t he?”

“How is that any of your business, Ben? Maybe he’s not even interested in girls, you ever though of that?” you opted, deliberately ignoring his compliment.

“Oh, believe me he’s interested, I’ve seen him stare when he thinks nobody’s looking. He may pretend to be above all that but the fucker is just as horny as the rest of us.”

“Speak for yourself.” You leaned back and kept your eyes on him while you crossed your arms,”You still haven’t told me what you want from me.”

“I was thinking, having a pretty girl like you pay attention to him might take his mind off all this studying, a distraction like that could kill a man’s entire focus.”

“Only a man who thinks with his dick.”

He smirked at you,”Or a man who’s never had his dick touched.”

“You’re fucking disgusting."

He lifted his hands in innocence,”I just want you to distract the guy a little, make him forget about stupid tests and internships so I can have a fighting chance.”

”You want me to fuck him,” you realized.

He gave you a lazy smirk, his gaze hardening suddenly,“I want you to do whatever it takes to ruin him.”

The words left his mouth so casually and easily it was making you nervous.

“You’re mad, there’s no way. Ask one of the whores you always hang out with, I’m sure there’s plenty…”

“I’ve asked, none of them want him.”

You sighed, annoyed.”Of course they don’t.”

“I need it to be you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the only one I can convince to do this.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at that and you shook your head,”You’re out of your mind if you think I would even consider…”

He didn’t let you finish your sentence but instead shoved a photo towards you on the table.

“What is this?”

“This is what I would call leverage.”

You looked at him in confusion,”This is just a blurry picture, what am I supposed to be looking at?”

He smirked at you,”Do you remember that one night we got insanely crazy drunk and I borrowed my roommate’s camera?”

It was only then that you realized what you were watching. It was a picture of a video. A video of a night you had tried very hard to erase from your memory, a night you wished had never happened.

“You kept that?” you asked quietly, the unsettling feeling in the pit of your stomach quickly growing. 

“It never left my computer,” he said as if it was something to be proud of,”And I guess…we’d both like it to stay on there wouldn’t we? And not…get lost on the internet or around university or something, I mean…I imagine you wouldn’t want that, right?”

You looked at him in complete disbelief and your voice was shaking with your next words,”You wouldn’t…you wouldn’t do that.”

His dark eyes stayed locked on yours,”Don’t doubt that I will do whatever it takes to get what I want, sweetheart.”

You shivered at the cold determination in his tone.

“I’m sorry,” he added,” but I need you to do what I ask if you want that video to stay with me. Get to know Gavey, make him believe you’re interested, how far you take it…is entirely up to you. Just make it work.”

****

You found Michael in his same spot in the library the next day, leaning on his elbow while he was taking notes in one of his many text books. 

For a few moments you just watched him from a distance, watched how enthralled he was in his work, how focussed his eyes were on the pages in front of him, how he kept pushing up his glasses and pinching the bridge of his nose in concentration. If the world around him caught on fire right now he probably wouldn’t even notice, all he had eyes for were the numbers in front of him. Ben was right to fear him, this guy’s focus was top-tier, it would take a lot more than a silly girl like yourself to break it. 

But what choice did you have? You had to try.

You stood frozen for a while, uncertain as to how you were going to proceed. You didn’t want to be here and just the thought of what you had to do made your stomach turn. But Ben had left you with no other choice. If that video ever saw the light of day it was over for you.

You swallowed your nerves and walked up to Michael’s table and took a seat opposite him, trying to act both casual and confident. But you were too nervous to pull either of those off.

You cleared your throat before you spoke,”Hey.”

Michael didn’t react, he didn’t even flinch, making you think he hadn’t heard you at all. 

You opened your mouth to speak again but he beat you to it,”What do you want?”

He was still writing and didn’t bother to look up at you.

“Michael?” you asked carefully,”Michael Gavey?”

“You know my name, congratulations, what do you want?”

Your heart sank. How were you ever going to distract this guy when he didn’t even acknowledge your presence? How were you in any position to get his attention when he wasn’t even interested enough to grant you a simple glance?

This was going to be a lot harder than you thought.

“I need a tutor,” you blurted out.

“I’m not your guy,” he answered immediately with a small shake of his head.

“So you’re not the smartest guy on campus then? Shit, I must have been misinformed,” you tried to lighten the mood and it seemed to work.

His lips curled up into the tiniest of smiles but it was gone as quickly as it appeared,”Flattery doesn’t work on me.”

“Flattery works on everyone. Come on.”

He was shaking his head again all the while still writing things down in his notebook, determined to keep up his act of ignoring you and it was starting to piss you off.

“It’s rude not to look at people when they talk to you, you know?” 

Michael just shrugged his shoulders,”Tutoring is a waste of my time, go find someone else.”

“You’re the smartest guy here.”

“I already told you, flattery will get you nowhere.”

“I can pay you,” you blurted out and just like that you had his attention. He stopped writing and put his pen down, finally looking up to meet your eyes.

“Right,” he sighed,”Because money opens every door, does it?” 

His gaze was hard and his lips pursed in a thin line, he was clearly annoyed with you.

“No, that’s not…”

”You rich pricks think money will buy you everything your little heart desires. It’s fucking pathetic.”

“That’s not what I meant…I’m not…” you sighed, defeated as you watched Michael pack up his notebooks and rise from his seat.

“Piss off, spoilt little rich girl and ask one of your rich friends to tutor you. I am not your guy.”

And that was it. You failed before you even had the chance to really try. You weren’t one to give up easily but after that interaction you had no hope of ever getting close to Michael Gavey. The guy was rude and insufferable and clearly not interested in you in any way.

You tried to carry on with your days after that but the weight of Ben’s threat was hanging over your shoulders and dragging you down, making you anxious every day. You were frustrated at the power he still held over you. And even more frustrated by the fact that there was nothing you could do about it.

Your mind was somewhere else entirely when you started your shift at the local pizza place that Thursday night. At least work gave you something to do and keep yourself busy instead of eating yourself up with worry every night. When the manager called asking if you were available for some extra shifts that week you jumped at the chance.

You were working on automatic pilot that night, making your way through the tables and taking clients orders when you arrived at his table.

“Good evening, sir, how may I help you tonight?”

It was only when you looked up and the person in front of you lowered his menu that you recognized him. Gavey.

He opened his mouth to speak but stopped when his eyes met yours, a flash of recognition running across his face.

“It’s…you,” he realized and looking at your name plate he called you by your name.

“Yes, it’s me, hi,” you sighed, trying to stay polite even though he had been so rude to you last time. God, please, don’t let him be a difficult customer, you were not in the mood for this tonight. “What can I get for you, Michael?” you asked with your best customer service smile.

Much to your surprise Michael returned your smile with one of his own, a little awkward and probably as forced as yours but at least he wasn’t calling you names or yelling at you this time. And instead of avoiding your eyes he couldn’t seem to look away from you tonight.

“You…work here?” he asked, confused,”I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I usually only work the weekends, I’m filling in for a sick colleague tonight,” you explained,”The extra money is always welcome, you know.”

“You’re not…you’re not one of them,” he realized, his voice softer than you had ever heard it.

“One of who?” 

“Those vapid rich cunts you always hang out with.”

And just like that he was making it harder to remain polite again.

“They’re just my class mates, Michael, they’re not friends. Unlike some people I am mature enough to be civilized and polite to people even if I don’t like them much. It’s called being an adult, you should try it some time.”

Michael was quiet, his eyes dropping down to the menu before he gave you his order and sank back down into his seat. You almost felt sorry for him seeing him sit there all alone while most people were out with friends tonight.

Almost. Maybe if the guy wasn’t such a dick all the time he’d have friends to have dinner with and not look like such a loser.

When you returned with his food shortly after he just gave you a polite nod and a quiet “Thank you”, which you reciprocated with a quick nod of your own.

“You didn’t spit into my food, did you?” he then asked, making you turn back around.

“No,” you sighed,”I wouldn’t do that. Not even to you.”

He smiled weakly,“Not even when I deserve it?”

You couldn’t help your lips from curling up into a little smile at his unexpected admission of guilt,”No, not even then.”

“Thanks,” he nodded quickly.

“Enjoy your food.”

When you came to his table later to clean up you found a napkin properly folded with your name written on it. You opened it to find a generous tip inside and a message: “Food was excellent, customer service needs some work”

You shook your head and rolled your eyes,”Fucking asshole.” But then you read the next line:

“PS If you still want that tutor meet me in the library tomorrow night at 8”

[theemporium]

could i request sirius black with potter!reader where james knows about there relationship but is always dramatic about it

thank you for requesting!🖤

.

“Oh Merlin, here they go again!”

“For fuck’s sake, Prongs.”

“Somebody hex my eyes!”

“Gladly.”

The bespectacled boy let out a small shriek when he felt a sharp pinch on his ear, squirming in his seat as he turned to glare at the culprit only to find his mother standing behind him, a knowing look on her face that quickly shut him up. 

“Stop being dramatic, James, and let your sister be happy,” Euphemia Potter told her eldest child, though it hadn’t been the first time she had said as much and it wouldn’t be the last either. It had been a common occurrence that she would find herself scolding her eldest child over his childish behaviour. 

You and James had always been close, both growing up and in the present time. Despite the age difference—though it was not much at all—your brother had always stood by your side and you likewise. When you joined him at Hogwarts, that relationship didn’t change when your friends became his friends, and his friends became your own too.

However, James Potter wasn’t expecting that it would lead to this. 

It had been over four months since you announced your relationship with Sirius Black to your brother and he had yet to get over what he called ‘the biggest betrayal of the century’.

“It’s off-putting,” James said with a heavy sigh, slumping back in his seat as he pushed his food around his plate with his fork. “I’m losing my appetite, mother.”

Euphemia gave him a blank look. “You’ll survive.”

“We aren’t even doing anything,” you pointed out to your brother but he just scoffed in response.

“He’s sitting next to you!”

You raised your brows. “And?”

“He used to sit next to me! You’ve taken my spot!” James exclaimed. 

“Well, technically I just switched seats,” Sirius piped up, always one to wind his best friend up as he threw his arm over the back of your chair. “So, she hasn’t taken your spot, I just changed mine.”

James narrowed his eyes. “There was a time where we were on the same side.” 

“You’ll always be my number two, Potter,” Sirius assured him, whilst you rolled your eyes as your brother did moments ago since you knew exactly where this was going.

“And who’s number one?” James asked with a huff. 

“My darling Euphemia, of course,” Sirius said with a massive grin on his face. “My number one Potter always and forever.”

“Hm, you just want an extra cookie,” Euphemia commented, though she seemed amused nonetheless. 

Sirius leaned his head back to look at her. “Did it work?” 

“We’ll see,” Euphemia smiled and pressed a kiss to the top of his head before she left the room. 

James let out a scoff. “And now you’re stealing my bonus cookies too—”

“I’ll half it with you,” Sirius offered.

James paused for a moment before he grinned. “I knew you were still my best friend.” 

Your gaze shifted to your boyfriend as you felt a hand lay on the top of your thigh, turning to raise your eyebrows at him as he just flashed you an innocent look.

“What?” you asked suspiciously.

“You know you’re my real number one, right?” he asked in a low voice, his head tilting down a little so his head was closer to you. “No one could replace you, doll.”

“First my mother, then my brother,” you mused, biting back your smile. “You trying to sweet me too, Black?”

“There’s a lot of things I want to do to you,” he murmured, a dark look in his eyes that sent a wave of desire and anticipation through you as his hand squeezed the fat of your thigh. 

“Like what?” you asked, your voice a little breathier than you expected.

His grin was wolfish. “Well—” 

“MUM, THEY ARE DOING IT AGAIN!”

.

[swampstew]

You Picked Dare

Summary: Why the hell would you play truth or dare with a bunch of pirates? Warnings: nsfw but mostly language and suggestive content, no actual smut, Kid Pirates being the Kid Pirates. Killer x Female reader x Kid

Inspired by the mega awesome @magnuspirate who did this delighful tease of two hunky hunks hunking around

Dare.

Dare. 

Dare.

Your bold statement had come out smug and confident, echoing in your head with a twinge of regret.

The Dare was to go into the hot springs and take a photo – of Killer and your Captain. Damn the others for knowing your kryptonite.

There was an opt-out option – to clean the communal bathrooms for a month. No fucking way.

As you walked through the island you took nervous hits of your blunt to ease the butterflies in your stomach. All you had to do was take a picture. There were no restrictions, you could be seen or hidden, as long as you got a photo of them that was all you needed to escape this torturous dare disguised as a group bonding activity.

Fuck the crew! You loved them but also fuck them. You were gonna get them back.

About a hundred yards away from the hot spring you took a final drag and snuffed out the remaining blunt. Giving yourself an internal pep talk as you took each step.

‘Position self behind a bush. Snap a picture. Sneak away and then run like the devil’s on my heels.’

Picturing your devil of a captain, your stomach coiled with anxiousness. Oh how you wished you could light up the roach.

Creeping between the foliage, you could hear Kid and Killer talking to each other in relaxed conversation. They didn’t appear to notice you, silently cursing as you realized they were still too far to take a photo.

Tip toeing on the patches of grass, you could make out their conversation more clearly.

“Ya ever think about sleeping with someone on the crew?” Kid suddenly asked Killer. You nearly fell over yourself when you heard the statement.

“Once in a while, rarely act on it though. You?” Killer mused.

“All the time.”

“Horn dog,” Killer scoffed.

“Can ya blame me? All our girls are hot as fuck.”

“Yeah, but I also see most of them as sisters…”

“You’re so pure,” Kid laughed. “Yeah they’re family, but they’re also not. I’m not saying I’d do anything about it either but it’s tempting some times.”

You felt as if you weren’t breathing, skillfully crawling around the shrubs eager to hear and see more, as silent as the dead. One breath and they were sure to discover you.

“Ahh is this about Y/N again?”

Time stopped. Your heart stopped. You didn’t dare move.

“Could be,” there was a tilt in Kid’s voice. “Don’t pretend you don’t think about her and what it could be like.”

“You’re being vulgar, which isn’t surprising, but what do you expect me to say? ‘Sure Kid I’ll bow out from another person of interest to give you the advantage as your friend.’” Killer legitimately sounded a little mad. Well like, personal hurt mad, not crazy mad which he was every single second.

“I’m a man with needs too. And I LIKE her.”

You wished to be a small lizard so you could watch them argue about you. Maybe the blunt was laced with something – wouldn’t put it past your crew to be honest.

Low growling preceded a laugh, and you could hear the sound of water splashing. Oh to the gods to be a fish in that spring.

“Alright fair enough. Would it make you feel better if we do it together? It’d be her choice who she’d choose no matter what, no hurt fee fees over it. Maybe if we come at her with a multi-partner thing, 50/50 she agrees?”

“Kid!”

“60/40?”

“Stop it.”

“Damn 10/90?”

More splashing of water, waves of it crashing over your coverage and wetting your clothes. Practicing your breathing exercises, you mentally pumped yourself up to get it over with. One snap and bam, you’re gone.

“What if we show her our dicks first?”

“KID!”

“Whadd’ya say Y/N? Wanna check the goods before you sample them?” Kid couldn’t hold back his laughter.

Gods be damned. They all sucked.

Gathering the last ounce of dignity and lighting your roach, you jumped out from behind the foliage with your camera, looking to the side as you snapped the picture. Whether is was worthy enough to pass was no longer your priority.

“IT WAS A DARE!!!!” you screeched as your turned on your heel and bolted. You poor thing, you didn’t make it past 1 yard.

“Oh you’re not going anywhere, Y/N,” Kid taunted as Killer wrapped his arms around you and picked you up. His towel becoming loose and distressed from your struggling. Bringing you back to the hot spring.

Taking the camera, Kid tossed it in the water with the smuggest face a motherfucker could make.

“We showed you ours, now we dare you to show yours.”

[bubbles-for-all-of-us]

Wash away the blood on my hands

a/n nothing I can tell you…

summary: honestly just a iv x reader x iii smut. When life throws you to the curb it’s in the embrace of two masked men that you find your salvation.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It still felt almost pathetic to crawl back to them. You liked having power in this. Never being the one to seek them out. Letting them do the groveling. Slither like serpents into your embrace. But tonight, you were too desperate. Too much in need for something to chase the nagging voices away. You had tried it all at this point. Everything that usually worked on setting your mind back on track. But it was pointless tonight.  

So here you were, navigating the dim hotel hallways at almost two a.m. It had started so innocently—the connection between you three. It was almost a given. Whatever happened between Vessel and II while they were writing music was for them and them only. Each of you were more than aware that you would never compare. Would never match that. Never reach the same level of intensity that rushed when they came together. So you never tried. What was the point? That, however, left you there on your own devices when the nights mid-tour got too long and lonely. 

The first time it happened, you three had been lounging in the tour bus. A beer in hand. Laughing about the stupidest shit. In your hazy state, you had let it slip that you hadn’t had an orgasm in months. No matter what you did, nothing could ever tip you over the edge. The look iii and ivy shared had sent a shiver down your back. But it didn’t compare to the feeling of their eyes falling on you. No words were needed. None were shared. And the rest was history. 

Knocking on the door marked with the number given to you, you waited. Hoping that enough heartbeats would pass by for you to change your mind. Turn on your heels and leave. But the door swung open, revealing a shirtless iii with messy hair. Your eyes fell to the peak of the room stretching out behind him. Of iv slowly pulling the white sheets over his naked body. “You’re busy?”, you swallowed thickly. Walk away; you mentally scolded yourself; it’s their time alone; if they wanted you there, they would have said something. Yet a peg of pain still pierced your heart. “Never for you, mouse,"  iii chuckled slightly, hooking a finger beneath your chin. Tilting your face up. The cocky smirk simmered down the moment his eyes landed on your puffy eyes. “What’s wrong?”, and here it was, the class clown turning into a feral guard dong in the blink of an eye. 

You slowly shook your head, “Not tonight."  Reaching out, you squeezed his hand. “Come on,"  he said, pulling at your hand, bringing you into the dim room. “Isn’t it our favorite girl?", iv called from the bed, pulling his boxers back on. “Don’t get dressed on my account," you pointed out. "Unless, of course, you want me to take them off you once again," you mused, shrugging your t-shirt off and tossing it across the room. 

“Nah, we have a rule," iii said, crossing his arms over his chest, “I’m not fucking you when you’re upset about something."  You shot him a warning look, daring him to push your buttons any further. “Have you been crying?”, iv’s fingers trailed up your neck as he stepped closer to you. Those blue eyes crashed into you with so much force that it sent all the air tumbling out of your lungs. “Can we do all this later, after you fuck my brain out?” you pleaded, “I just want to forget for a while." This wasn’t a first. All of you had leaches in your brain. Through the past year, more than a handful of nights were spent plucking each other’s fears and self-doubts with roots deeply embedded in one’s soul. 

“Say less," iv mussed against your ear. He pushed your hair over your shoulder as his lips pressed against your skin. Breathing life back into you. His fingers aimlessly work with the zipper of your skirt, letting it fall to the floor with a thud. You could hear iii whistling from behind you, “No panties, naughty."  His warmth seeped into your back a moment later. “A girl with a mission on her mind. We left you alone for a night, and you already couldn’t take it." His teeth grazed the shell of your ear, causing your eyelids to flutter. 

“I hate you," you muttered, reaching up to pull at the roots of his hair. "Bet,"  he chuckled deeply, his fingers slowly trailing down your lower stomach and between your thighs. Making you let out a sigh of relief. “I can tell from the way you’re dripping onto my fingers, and we haven’t even started," he hummed making iv snort. “What does that say about you, darling, hm?”, iv leaned in, fingers brushing over your breast before he moved to pinch your nipple. 

“I want you,"  you moaned out, grinding back against iii, feeling him slowly getting harder as he bucked his hips against your ass. “It couldn’t be more obvious,"  he grunted against your ear. "Shower,"  you muttered, earning a collective “huh” from both of the boys. “Can we do it in the bathroom?” slowly licking your lips, you watched as both of their pupils dilated. “You little freak," iii huffed, hooking one arm beneath your bum. You only had a chance to let out a shriek as your hands leaned forward to brace against his shoulders. He covered the distance in a total of four steps. 

Your back hit the back wall tiles, and you quickly wrapped your legs around his torso. iii lips crashed into you so fast you didn’t get a chance to take a breath in, and then a stream of water crashed onto the both of you. Drowning out the last echoes in your mind. He was everywhere. Every inch of your body hummed to the feeling of iii squeezing your thighs as he bucked against you. The feeling of his semi-hard dick, still clothed in black boxers, slipping between your folds made you cry into the kiss. 

“Don’t leave me hanging you two," iv chuckled. You pulled back from iii, watching iv slowly pump his hand up and down his cock as he made his way to you. Where you and iii usually collided like two stars, leaving nothing but ruins in your path, iv weathered the storms you both caused. Like a shore, taking the beating of the waves over and over again. 

iii, slowly let your legs hit the floor once again. Your eyes lingered on him before iv pressed against your back, pulling you against his chest. “iii, why don’t you show your little siren just how much we want her in return?", iv mused. iii didn’t have to be told twice as he slowly sank to his knees in front of you, sending your stomach tumbling down at the sight. That alone made you weak in your knees, so the moment he leaned in, nibbling on your thigh, your whole world tilted. His tongue lapped at your heat mercilessly. A cry that slipped past your lips felt inhuman. iii parted your legs ever so slightly, giving himself more room. “Fuuuck," you mulled, bucking your hips against him even more. “Look at him worshipping you," iv muttered, brushing some of the wet strands of hair away from iii face before sliding his hand up your chest. “Only you get treatment like that, love," he said, slowly nibbling at your shoulder, nudging the tip of his cock between your thighs. "Ivy," you grunted, letting your head fall back onto his shoulder. “Gonna cum on iii tongue?”, he touted, “I know you want to, baby."  His hand reached out, clasping your hands beneath your back. Pulling you away from touching iii, the lost contact made you grunt before iii reached up, circling your clit with his fingers before dipping them between your folds. “Oh, god...", you whimpered. That familiar feeling of his fingers beckoning at you from within your walls turned your legs into jelly. “Give her one more," iv mused, his free hand roughly palming your breast. “No, no…”, you shook your head, knowing that would be your undoing. But the devil worked harder and faster. iii grazed his teeth over your bundle of nerves, pumping his fingers in and out of you. And you were done for. The heat in your stomach pooled, as a shuttering cry left your lisps, making legs buck. But iv was quick to keep you upright, pressing firmer into you, pushing your throwing heat even more at the mercy of iii. 

“Good girl," he breathed against you, pulling your head to the side as he kisses your lips. Further sending the dizzy spell into motion. “Got to get creative over here," iii mused, licking his lips, “I call dibs on fucking her tonight." You pulled away from iv, gasping for air as he shoved your body beneath the water for a moment. “Guess you’ll have to blow me, baby." You nod at iv words. Ready to do about anything the two would ask of you.

“I guess I’m getting a king treatment tonight," iv snorted, palming himself a couple of times as he sat down on the built-in ledge, parting his legs. “His dick won’t suck itself, mouse," iii pushed at your shoulder, sending you down onto your knees. You licked your lips, wrapping your hands around his cock, pumping him slowly. Keeping your eyes on him as you slide just the tip between your lips, sucking on it ever so slightly before pulling away with a pop. “Don’t fucking tease," iv grunted, fingers threading through your hair. “Not my problem, you’re so hard," you crocked out, making iii chuckle from behind you. “You little, slut," iv grunted, pulling your head back slightly. “Put your mouth to use before I do it for you," at that you leaned in, sliding your tongue over his length, making a grunt slip past his lips. You swirled your tongue over his tip once more, savoring the salty flavor of pre-cum, before bopping your head down. 

“Good fucking girl," iv moaned, fisting your hair as you hollowed out your cheeks for him, taking him deeper. "Pretty," iii mused, “Let’s see if you can keep that up while I’m fucking you from behind."  He sinked into you with such ease that it should be shameful. Your joined moans fill the steamy room as that drug like pleasure filled your bodies. As you all chased that high. You dug your fingers into iv’s thighs at the feeling of iii stretching you out. Welcoming the slight pain it caused you. 

Your moan vibrated around iv shaft, making him press your head down even further, causing your eyes to water as you gagged around him. “Jesus”, iii grunted from the back of you as his hips found a rapid rhythm. You felt them both twitching within you, causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“You feel like a fucking dream," iv whimpered, using your mouth to chase his pleasure, your drool coating his thighs. You could only hum around him as iii slipped his hand to circle your clit. Feeling your body slowly seizing as your second orgasm bloomed. iii let out a low grunt as he pounded into you, making your vision blank with pleasure. 

“Can I... fuck... can I cum in your mouth?", iv grunted through clenched teeth. You only got to hum before warm ropes of cum painted the back of your throat. And then you all crumpled, one after the other. The feeling of iv twitching in your mouth as you choked on him sent you over the edge. Causing you to clench around iii, who within a couple of thrusts griped your hips with such force as he too let his warmth fill the depths of you. Making you sob as the pleasure consumed you. 

Gasping for air, you pull away from iv, only to let your head slump against his thigh. iii’s hand was already grasping iv’s other leg as he too breathed heavily. “I think I just saw what the afterlife looks like," iv mused, making both of you chuckle lightly. “You good?”, his warm fingers traced your cheeks, making you blink up at him slowly. “Yeah," you crocked out, feeling the burn in the back of your throat. “I never came so hard in my life," iii blew out a breath, “took the air right out of my lungs." You wanted to throw a cocky line, but your brain was as blank as paper. The moment iii pulled out and his body no longer supported yours, you slumped completely, making the two males reach out to steady you with unmatched speed. 

“I think we restarted her system a bit too good,"  iv snorted. “We got you, mouse,"  iii looped an arm around your torso, “None of your demons will get to you when we’re around," hoisting you up on your feet as if you weighed nothing, he pulled the shower head to rinse the cum painting your legs and chest. “Bedtime for you," iii hummed, kissing the side of your head. Hoking an arm beneath your knees, lifting you up. You curled against him, savoring the warmth of his body. “I think we need to order room service”," ivy chirped, tossing a towel onto the bed so iii could dry your hair. “Now you’re speaking my language,"  iii nodded, eyes fixed on your dazed face as you blinked up at the ceiling. “I think we’ve been talking in the same language for quite some time now, mate," iv shrugged before dialing the number. 

[roosterforme]

Beer Boy and Sugar: The Second Lost Year (Bradley Bradshaw x Reader)

Part of the Lost Years series for Beer Boy and Sugar

Warnings: language, longing, angst (series fits chronologically between Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time)

Banner by @mak-32

Year Two

Bradley dropped down on his bed and started to untie his boots while Nat looked around at everything on his desk. They were both about to start flying solo now, and it was such a relief that she was advancing in the program with him. It brought him a little bit of joy every time they left the others in the dust.

"I always liked this thing," she remarked, poking his Navy desk lamp as he set his boots under his bed. "You said it was your dad's, right?"

"Yeah. Makes it vintage," he replied with a grin as he lounged back on his pillows, already thinking about dinner in the mess hall. It was hot as hell outside, especially by Rhode Island standards, and it made him miss Virginia a little bit. "Are you ready for dinner?"

She groaned. "It's too hot to go outside and walk all the way to get food. Your air conditioner works better than mine, too. Can't we just stay in here?"

His stomach growled as he said, "All I got is some protein bars and instant mac and cheese. And I'm starving."

Nat started to poke at the book he was currently reading as she said, "I'll order us a pizza."

This was something he'd never get used to, even though he considered her his best friend. She always seemed to have money from her parents, and he had basically nothing. But she continually offered to share her food with him. Bradley wasn't exactly sure what he brought to this friendship, but she seemed to enjoy having him around, so he didn't bring it up.

"Fine," he agreed.

This seemed to make her happy as she fished her phone out of her pocket. "You want your usual topping choice?"

Bradley froze with his fingers pushed back in his messy hair. At first, he always ordered his pizza that way, because that's how you liked it. Now Nat thought it was his preference. But maybe it actually was?

"Yeah," he replied softly. "Please." 

Then he listened to her call it in while his thoughts drifted back to Virginia. He hadn't seen or heard from you in fourteen months, but he'd thought about you every single day. It hurt a little less now, but all the feelings were still there. He still looked at all the pictures he had saved on his phone. He thought about you when he touched himself. He still hadn't slept with anyone else since you.

"Why would you keep a differential equations notebook from UVA?" Nat mused, but he was barely listening to her as he thought about your body curled up against his while you wore his Grateful Dead shirt. "Did you even take advanced math?" 

When he finally registered what she said, he sat up in his bed and saw her holding your purple notebook. The one with all the doodles and love notes in the margins, and he felt like he was back in the study room with you on his lap. The breath was knocked from his lugs as a sheet of loose, folded paper fell onto her lap, and she picked it up and started to read it out loud.

"Dear Beer Boy, 

I'm bored in my calculus lecture, and I just started thinking about your bedroom door. It's still the hottest thing I've ever seen in my life. Maybe you and I could wait until the middle of the night when all of your fraternity brothers are asleep and sneak out into the hallway and-"

Bradley lunged out of bed and grabbed the note from her hand before she could see the rest. "What the fuck, Nat? That's personal!"

Her dark brown eyes were as wide as saucers as she said, "That was from her."

He knew she was kind of mystified by you, given that he only shared details of the happiest months of his adult life sparingly. She always asked for more information when he mentioned you, always wanted to know more. But Bradley felt like the magic would wear off the more he talked about you, so he always kept it brief. He also knew he wasn't going to get away with saying nothing right now.

"Yeah," he grunted, taking the purple notebook from her hands and returning the folded note to the back pages. The sight of your handwriting filled him with a deep need for you. "And this was her notebook."

Nat's voice was gentle, as if she was trying not to spook him when she asked, "Why did she like your door so much?"

Bradley closed his eyes and laughed quietly. "I painted over all the other girls' names and phone numbers. For her. Or for myself. I don't really know anymore."

Now her eyes were narrowed when he looked at her again. "'All the other girls'. Holy shit, Bradshaw. Were you some sort of fuckboy in college?"

He leaned back against his pillows again as he groaned, "Basically." He didn't really like thinking about it, because that hadn't been him for a long time now. "Before Sugar."

She took her phone out again, and Bradley desperately wished the pizza would arrive so this conversation could end. But Nat asked, "What was her last name again? I want to know exactly what she looks like."

He whispered the word, loving the feel of it on his tongue as he took his own phone out. He located the picture of him with his arm around your shoulders that Dev took the week before graduation. Your smile was too pretty, and your face was too perfect. There was a reason he had to limit himself, and the onslaught of feelings was proof of why: He wasn't over you yet.

"Here," he muttered, stretching his arm out to hand his phone to Nat, but she gasped as she looked at her own phone.

"She's gorgeous. I found her Instagram account."

"You did?" he asked, launching himself off of the bed and forcefully switching phones with her. She gasped again as she looked at the photo on his phone, but Bradley was too busy staring at the tiny thumbnail of your smiling face. Your account was set to private, but this photo must have been more recent. Your hair was styled differently, and the only thing he could process was that he felt relieved you were posing alone instead of with some other guy. He didn't want to have to put a face to that.

He thought about taking a screenshot and texting it to himself, but he couldn't. He wouldn't. And when Nat asked if he wanted her to send you a friend request, he said absolutely not. "You think I want her to know I still think about her every day? No."

Then she said, "But maybe she still thinks about you." 

Bradley didn't see how that was a possibility.

The pizza finally arrived just then, and Nat stood to go get it. She gave him a cautious hug and said, "I think she would be proud of you." She left him alone with both phones in his hands, and somehow he knew it would be easier to talk about you now if he wanted to.

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

It was mind blowing. Three months ago, Chicago was freezing cold and practically encased in ice. Now it was blazing hot to the point that you couldn't get any relief unless you were inside your dorm room. It was Friday, thank goodness. Everyone in your graduate studies group wanted to go out for deep dish pizza tonight, and you had to figure out a way to stop sweating long enough to actually get dressed in something other than the shorts and tank you were wearing now.

You groaned as you carried your computer and textbooks across campus in your backpack. You had the highest grades out of all of the math graduate students, but you still took everything with you everywhere in case you had some extra time to study. But you should have left everything in your room instead on this sweltering day.

The quad was packed with tables and students participating in a career fair, but for some reason, this was where Jared asked you to meet up. Four dates with him, and you still weren't convinced it was a good idea to take things out of the friend zone. Four dates, and you still didn't really want to do anything besides kiss him. It wasn't that there was anything wrong with him, he just wasn't exactly right.

"Hey!" 

As soon as you heard Jared calling out for you, your initial reaction was to hide. You were absolutely going to have to tell him you didn't want to see him anymore, and it mostly made you mad that it would probably disrupt your friend group. 

"Hi," you replied as he squeezed through the crowd to get to you. And then he slipped his sweaty hand in yours, and you actually cringed. Why wasn't this what you wanted? After nearly a year, he wore you down enough that you gave it a try, but this was decidedly bad. Especially since you could picture exactly what you did want.

When you looked up at Jared's face, your gaze drifted to your left. You gasped and dropped his hand immediately. There were recruiters from the Navy. They were wearing flight suits. You caught a glimpse of wavy brown hair and a flash of dark eyes, and you were off.

Jared was calling after you as you fought through the crowd, catching glimpses here and there of broad shoulders and a handsome smile. Oh my god, he was here. Somehow, he was here. Like he'd just climbed out of your dreams and into the University of Chicago campus. 

"Bradley!"

Your voice rang out, but he didn't fully turn your way. You rushed a little faster, no longer caring if you knocked someone into one of the tables. 

"Bradley!"

But you stumbled as you reached the recruiters, and your smile evaporated from your lips. Tears stung at your eyes as he turned to face you, leaving your heart filled with disappointment. 

"Hey, there. I'm Lieutenant Chapman," he said with a grin, and you honestly didn't know how you could have been mistaken. His eyes were hazel, and his hair was too curly, and now you were standing there feeling like you'd just broken your own heart all over again. The disappointment could smother you if you let it.

You nodded and turned away as sweat dripped down your chest and an awful feeling settled into your stomach. You made your way back through the crowd at a much slower pace with no real desire to talk to Jared, but you reached him all too soon.

"What happened?" he asked, grabbing your hand again.

You looked at the ground and tried to hide your tears as he squeezed your hand tighter. "Sorry. I thought I saw an old friend."

He just made an impatient noise and asked, "You ready to go get changed and grab some pizza with everyone else? I thought we could ditch them early and maybe go back to my room and watch a movie? And like hang out... on my bed?"

His voice was distressingly hopeful. You wanted to say no. You knew you should. But you kept your eyes fixed on the ground as you said, "Sounds good," with almost no conviction. You wanted to get past this, so you needed to actually start trying.

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

Make it stop hurting. Or don't. I don't know. They must both already know they belong together. Let me know if you'd like to be tagged in the rest of this series!

@beyondthesefourwalls @thedroneranger @cherrycola27 @sorchathered @mamachasesmayhem @attapullman @bobgasm @desert-fern @startrekfangirl2233 @shanimallina87 @sylviebell @wkndwlff @horseslovers2016 @sadpetalsstuff @schoollover @jessicab1991 @lex-winchester @bellaireland1981 @sagittarius-flowerchild @marvelouslyme96 @trickphotography2 @goldenseresinretriever @rascallyrascals @auroracaroline @nerdgirljen @redbarn1995 @theweekndhistorybook @averyhotchner @moon42flight @eli2447 @lyn-js @na-ta-sh-aa @mygyn @je-suis-prest-rachel @kcloveswrestling @imnotcreativeenoughforthisblog @callsign-magnolia @eternalsams @lynnestra44 @shinzowosasageyoooo @tgmreader @princessofglitterland @backupbrii @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @averyhotchner @hookslove1592 @callsigns-haze

[achilles-rage]

Just One Chance

summary: your adoptive father, deacon, find rocker in your bedroom after he spends the night.

word count: 2.4k

request: anon- Could you do one with reader being Deacons sister or daughter and he finds out she is dating Rocker and he freaks out

a/n: i made deacon reader's adoptive father, just so it's race inclusive, i hope that's okay to whoever requested this! enjoy<3

warnings: none, no use of y/n, plus size!reader, fem!reader, race inclusive!reader

Your quiet giggles fill the room as Rocker hovers over top of you in bed, pressing kisses all over your face and neck. No matter how many times he wakes you up like this, it still makes butterflies erupt in your belly.

“Stop it!” you manage to get out through your fit of giggles, squirming under him as his body weighs you down and his hands keep your wrists firmly trapped beside your head.

“Can’t, sweetheart. You’re just too pretty.” he muses between kisses, but after a moment he pulls back, taking in your soft form beneath him. Your skin prickles from the feeling of his stubble brushing across your face and neck, and you’re slightly breathless as you look up at him, your eyes twinkling with something between love and lust.

He rolls off of you slowly, but keeps himself propped up on his elbow as he lays on his side beside you, admiring the way your chest moves with your breathing and the way the bright golden sunlight of the early morning hits your skin through the crack in your curtains.

He tells you about how one of the guys on his team got very rudely, but very justifiably, rejected by a girl at the bar a couple days ago when the team went out for drinks after work. You laugh as he tells you about the man digging himself a bigger and bigger hole as he tried to get the woman to go home with him, when you hear a knock at your door.

“Fuck!” you exclaim as you shoot up in bed, feeling Rocker sit up beside you instinctively, face laced with confusion.

You’ve been dating for a couple months, and although he works with your dad, and they’re both friendly enough with each other, you still haven’t told your father about your relationship. He spent the night at your place last night, and in all the excitement of having him in your space, you completely forgot your dad was going to stop by in the morning on the way to work and bring some breakfast.

You were only six when you met Deacon. His team had rescued you from a shooting where both of your parents were killed, and he had felt such a strong urge to protect you as one of his own, that he immediately went home and asked Annie about adoption. It was very early in their marriage, and they had barely even spoken about having kids yet, but Annie had also gotten attached to you the first time you met, so it felt like a no brainer. It was a tough process, but you were both extremely happy that it worked out, and that you didn’t have any other family to go to. Deacon hadn’t been the one to save you, it was actually Luca who pulled you out, but Deacon was the one who helped calm you down, and you felt instantly safe around him. It felt a little weird being so much older than your adoptive siblings, but you love all of them anyway.

“You have to stay in here. He can’t see you.” you tell Rocker as you swing your legs over the side of the bed. You walk over to your closet and throw on a plain black t-shirt dress, opting not to try to match a shirt with a pair of pants.

“Who?” Rocker asks as he stands up, walking up behind you and wrapping his arms around your soft waist once your dress is on. He presses a soft kiss to your neck, swaying you both back and forth gently as you try not to get distracted by his touch.

“Who do you think?” you ask with a raised brow, turning in his grip and facing him. You give him a smile before you push him away. You need to get the door now, before your father thinks something’s wrong and decides to break your apartment door down. Not only because of the man currently standing naked in your room, but also because you could not afford to fix the broken door.

“Why can’t we just tell him? As much as I love the sneaking around, wouldn’t you like to, you know, actually go out?” he asks, his hands flailing as he speaks. He’s not mad, per se, he just selfishly really wants to see the look on your father’s face when he finds out that he’s been fucking his daughter for months behind his back. It’s no secret that their teams have some sort of rivalry that you’ll never understand, and seeing how mad it would make him is just the cherry on top of how pretty and perfect you are for him.

“Can we please talk about this later?” you ask, crossing the room and giving him a peck on the lips, your hand touching his cheek for just a moment. You pull away quickly as you hear another knock on the door, giving him a pleading smile as you back up towards the door, mumbling a quick “be quiet” before you’re out of the room and opening the door for your father.

“Hi, honey.” your father greets you as you open the door a little breathlessly. You think for a moment that he’s going to ignore how long it took you to answer the door, but he quickly adds “what were you doing?”

You move out of the way as he tries to move past you and into your apartment, placing the takeout bag on the counter once he gets to the kitchen. Your eyes instinctively glance over at your closed bedroom door, praying that Rocker won’t make a noise while your father is in your apartment.

“Just, uh, in the bathroom.” you lie in a sweet voice, following him into the kitchen and beginning to help him take out your food containers.

You call this your bi-monthly catch up. Although you speak to your father very frequently, doing this makes you feel closer to him after getting an apartment of your own. Plus, he also wants to hear about everything going on in your life. You’re not sure if it’s the job that makes him like this, but he’s always been extremely overprotective.

As Rocker sits on your bed, still naked, leaning back against the bed frame, he listens to the barely audible conversation coming from the kitchen. After a while, he checks his phone, eyes widening as he realizes what time it is. He knows he won’t be late for work, knowing that Deacon will leave early enough for him to sneak out after him and get to work on time, but he figures he should at least get dressed so he can leave right after he does. He knows it won’t make Deacon necessarily suspicious if he’s late, but he knows that the job makes them especially receptive, so he doesn’t want to take any chances.

It’s really an accident when he knocks the plant off your dresser, the soil seeping into the light coloured rug on your floor. While he’s getting dressed, he has a thought about making enough noise for your father to catch him, and thus having your relationship out in the open and a front row seat to his reaction, but it leaves as quickly as it arrived. He knows it’s a bad idea, as much as it makes him excited. While he’s putting on his jeans, though, he trips, knocking into your dresser and sending the pot flying to the ground. He pulls his jeans up quickly and buttons them. At least if Deacon walks in, he’ll be dressed, he thinks.

You’re telling your father about a new hire at work that you’ve been desperately trying to train when you hear a loud thud coming from your room. Both of your heads snap to your closed door, and your father immediately stands up, shoulders squared.

“What was that?” he asks, eyes leaving the door for a split second as he looks over at you. He observes your wide eyes, and the way you’re biting the inside of your cheek, and he knows immediately that you’re hiding something.

“Nothing.” you get out, silently wondering why you didn’t try to think of an excuse while eating, just in case Rocker happened to make a sound. He raises a brow, relaxing a little now that he knows that whatever made the noise is not a threat. He puts a hand on his hip as he gives you a “really?” look, and your eyes dart across the room as you try to think of something to say.

“I have the window open, the wind must’ve knocked something off my windowsill. I have this little trinket on it, and it’s kinda wobbly.” You’re not sure where that came from. You don’t even have a windowsill. At least, not one wide enough to put things on. Your father rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. Honestly, he thinks you brought home some stray animal. You’ve always begged him for a pet, so he assumes that you just don’t want him to give you a lecture about how much effort it takes to have an animal to take care of.

Your eyes widen as he turns and stalks toward your bedroom door, and all you can get out is a “no, wait-” before he swings the door open. His eyes immediately move from the floor, where he thought he would be met with the tiny little eyes of a cat or a dog, up to meet Rockers, who gives him a sheepish, but smug, smile.

“Hey Deac, what’s up?” he asks, flinching instinctively when Deacon takes a step towards him with his jaw clenched.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He raises his finger to point at Rocker as he speaks, his face growing red with anger.

“Dad, please. Just let me explain.” you plead, taking a cautious step to stand between them. You don’t think your father would do anything drastic, but you just want to make sure.

“Explain what? How you’ve been sneaking around with one of my coworkers? And him? Come on.” he says, a hint of disappointment in his eyes as he flicks his hand in Rocker’s direction. He can barely even look at the man standing behind you, and his mind is racing as he thinks about how the hell he didn’t figure this out sooner.

“I’m only sneaking around because I knew you’d react like this.” you argue, motioning down to his clenched fists and squared stance. You were worried at first, but now you’re a little pissed off. It’s not like Rocker’s a bad person, they just can’t get over their stupid pissing contest that seems to carry on outside of work.

“Well, how did you expect me to react? You think I’m just gonna let him put his hands on my daughter?” he asks in disbelief, having to look away as the image crosses his mind.

“I’m an adult! I’m way too old for you to be acting like this! He’s a good man, and I’m gonna date him whether you like it or not. But I’d rather you approve of it.” Your voice is raised at the beginning of your sentence, but your voice softens by the time you get to your last sentence. You want more than anything to tell your father about your relationship. You’ve definitely dated some douchebags in the past, and you knew that once your father gets over the initial shock of you bringing home the 50 squad leader, he would see that you finally managed to find a good man.

Although a small part of him wants to laugh at the situation, Rocker knows he has to try to get in good with Deacon. If things go his way, he’ll be his future father-in-law, after all.

“I really do like your daughter. I wouldn’t do anything to hurt her. Even though I like to show you how it’s done at work.” Rocker says the last sentence in a joking tone, jumping back when he sees the daggers both you and your father shoot at him.

“Not the time.” you and Deacon say in unison, and he raises his hands in surrender, taking a step closer to you. If you weren’t in this situation, you would laugh at his unsure, and slightly afraid expression, but right now, all you can think about is trying to diffuse the tension.

“So what do you say, Deac. Will you give me a chance?” Rocker asks after a moment. He extends his hand to your father, who grabs his hand in a deathgrip.

“If you hurt her, no one will ever find your body.” he tells him sternly, pulling him close to him.

“Understood.” Rocker says in a quiet voice, swallowing as your father finally shakes his hand.

“Now, you gonna join us for breakfast? You’ve just been caught in my daughter’s room. I think it’s the least you could do.” Deacon says sternly, raising a brow, as if daring him to decline.

“Right. Of course.” Rocker says with a smile, letting out a sigh when he sees your father nod once and turn to walk back to the kitchen. You let out a sigh at the same time, fighting the urge to melt into Rocker’s touch as he puts his hand on the small of your back. The whole interaction has you on edge, and you want more than anything to get back in bed with Rocker and let his comforting touch allow you to forget about all of this.

“So, how long has this been going on?” your father asks once you’re all seated. You’re in the middle, like a mediator, and Rocker’s hand is secretly placed on your thigh, rubbing comforting circles. You freeze. Why didn’t you think that he would ask this question? It was bound to come up sooner or later, and you knew your answer would probably set him off again. You can tell by the look in his eyes, however, that he would not brush past this.

“Um, like, 6 months.” you say, and it comes out as more of a question than an answer.

“What?” your father practically yells, eyes wide and fists clenched again. You let out a sigh. This is going to be harder than you thought.

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[a-killer-obsession]

Valentines Day Special '24 [Killer x Reader]

🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Hidden feelings lead to late night confessions.

CW: fluff and smut, oral sex, face-fucking, vaginal sex, afab reader

WC: 4401

Masterlist || AO3

To say you were grumpy today was an understatement. It had been just over a month since the Victoria Punk had docked at an island with a population, therefore it'd been just over a month since you'd gotten laid. It's not like you were the only one feeling antsy, after three uninhabited islands in a row the whole crew was anxious to get their dicks wet. A few of the other girls on the ship, like Quincy, had regular fuck buddies, but unfortunately you didn't. There was only one man on the ship you had your eye on, and he seemed as far from interested in you as possible, you'd probably have better luck seducing a seaking. To top it all off - it was Valentine's Day. The icing on the horny cake, if there was any day you should be getting laid, it should be today.  

You sighed and looked over the deck. The aforementioned man you had your eye on was making his usual quick, silent strides across the deck, his long blond mane fluttering behind him as he walked alongside the Captain. His shirts always seemed too small for his heavily muscled frame and you could swear sometimes that it was some sort of divine punishment for you specifically. Gods you would do anything to rip off that stretched shirt and run your tongue over the muscles hidden underneath. 

You must have been staring for a little too long because the masked man turned and looked at you midstride, he probably felt your eyes burning holes in his clothes while you thought about undressing him. You quickly looked away, pretending you were just looking at the open waters behind him. It probably wasn't subtle, and it definitely wasn't the first time he'd caught you ogling him. If he had any inclination to fuck you he would have done it by now, because surely it was clear by the sheer number of times you'd been caught eye-fucking him that you wanted him. Alas, he'd never even mentioned it, never made any comment that gave you any hint as to whether he returned the attraction, or was uncomfortable with your staring. You turned back to the railing behind you, groaning in frustration and leaning against it. 

“Kid wants to know why you were acting like such a pent up bitch at dinner,” a smooth baritone voice suddenly came from behind you. You squeaked in surprise and almost threw your book overboard from where you were sitting cross legged on the figurehead of the ship. 

“Jesus fucking christ Killer, we need to put a fucking bell on you,” you turned your torso and smacked him on top of his mask with your book. Considering how big he was, it was a playful gesture - you could never hurt the giant of a man. 

“Sorry,” he said with little emotion. 

“You can tell Kid I was acting like a pent up bitch because I am a pent up bitch,” you grumbled, spinning on your ass to face him properly, “when are we getting to an island with a decent town? I'm going to fucking implode if I don't get laid soon, even Heat is starting to look tempting at this point”

“ Everyone is pent up,” he added, “but you were acting particularly bitchy today”

“Yeah, well, none of you brutes could appreciate a romantic holiday like Valentine's Day,” you pouted, “usually by now I'd have a line of men kneeling at my feet begging to fuck me, roses and chocolates in hand. This fucking sucks”

“Oh, that's today?” He mused, “I didn't realise you cared, I didn't think anyone on this ship cared. Anyway if Heat is looking so ‘tempting’ why don't you just go jump him?”

“Because, Killer my sweet masked giant,” you patted him on the chest as you slid off the figurehead, “there's only one man on this ship I'm interested in fucking and I don't think he has a single molecule of interest in me. But hey, that's what vibrators are for”

He grabbed your wrist as you walked past and looked at you. You didn't turn to look back at him, the gesture was almost painful. Not physically, but emotionally. He knew full well you were talking about him, and he felt bad about it. “Killer, it's fine, you don't have to feel sorry for me. I'll get over it.” He let go when you tried to shake him off, and let you walk away without another word. 

In truth, you weren't sure if you would get over it. Till now a lot of what you thought you felt for Killer was just physical. It wasn't till he grabbed your wrist that you realised just how badly you craved his touch, how much you just wanted to be held by him. You'd rushed back to your room as fast as you could as tears pricked your eyes, realising that he would likely never return the feelings. Hell, you didn't even know what he looked like under the mask, he didn't trust you enough to show you, how could you ever expect him to open his heart to you? It hurt, this Valentine's Day really fucking sucked. And to make matters worse, your trusty vibrator died before you could cum. Thanks to the stupid, stupid fucking feelings you couldn't get there and in the end even your toy had given up on you. How depressing. 

It must have been past midnight by now, at least V day was over, as miserable as it had been. You decided to go get a snack after your self-fuck-athon, maybe you'd get lucky and find something sweet so you could at least eat your feelings. You didn't bother to put on pants, opting to just throw a satin dressing gown over your negligee before heading barefooted to the kitchen. It was warm enough anyway, the ship must be coming close to a summer island. That made you hopeful, summer islands were often tourist hot spots, ripe with hot, horny men. 

You were surprised to find the kitchen light on, only commanders were allowed in there outside of meal preparation hours and you were sure you were the only one midnight snack inclined, except for Heat of course who would get the munchies often after smoking pot. But he was on nightwatch, there's no way he'd be in the kitchen. You were even more surprised to hear a deep, angry “ fuck ” and the sound of something metal being dropped as you approached the door.

You opened it to find Killer, standing at the sink running his hand under a cool stream of water - the swearing must have been him burning his hand. He looked in your direction only for a moment as you entered, before turning his attention back to his hand. 

“You good, Kil?” You asked as you slid up beside him. You took his hand gently and inspected it, seeing that the burn looked small but deep. You weren't the ship's doctor but you helped out sometimes, being that you at least had some basic first aid knowledge. “Yikes, keep that under the water, I'll grab a dressing”

He did as he was told while you rummaged in the cupboards for the small first aid kit you insisted be kept in here in case of kitchen related incidents. Suck it, Kid, now who's idea is a waste of time? Point for [Y/N]! You retrieved a small gauze and some medical tape from the box - the burn needed to be dressed loosely so it could breathe, but be protected from anything that could cause infection. You ripped a few paper towels from the roll on the bench before turning off the tap and taking his hand gently again. He didn't protest, he knew you were in medical mode. You could get scary when someone refused medical care, scary even to a strong man like him. 

You pat his hand dry and inspected it one last time before applying the gauze and taping it down, flexing his hand to make sure the tape wasn't too tight for his muscles to move. “Make sure you go see doc tomorrow about this,” you instructed as you let go of his hand and set about putting the tape away and throwing out the gauze packaging. 

“Yes ma'am,” he grumbled, returning to whatever he'd been doing before while you opened the fridge to inspect its contents. The kitchen held other, more commercial style fridges, but this one was smaller, just for the commanders. It mostly held beer. 

“Hungry?” He mused. 

“Mmm,” you replied, closing the fridge with a disappointed sigh, “shit all in here though” 

“Here,” he turned and held something out for you. A chocolate cupcake, not yet iced and still warm from the oven. He must have burnt his hand taking them out. 

“You made… cupcakes?” You asked quizzically, looking at the small cake in your hand with confusion as you peeled away the paper lining. It was a weird thing for a big, tough guy like Killer to be making in the first place, let alone in the middle of the night. You took a bite, it was soft and warm and laced with chocolate chips. You almost purred at how delicious it was, even without icing. “KIL! THIS IS DELICIOUS!”

“Thanks,” he'd turned back to the rest of the cupcakes and was gingerly moving them to a cooling rack, “I uh… I made them for you. It was supposed to be a surprise.”

You paused mid bite, absolutely dumbfounded. He'd made cupcakes… for you? “What? Why?” You asked before taking another glorious bite. 

“You're supposed to give chocolate on Valentine's right?” He explained shyly, “I know it's late, and it's not exactly a box of assorted artisan bonbons, but I figured at least chocolate flavoured would be something? I don't have any flowers, sorry”

You were absolutely shell shocked, frozen in silence, cupcake still in hand, just staring at him. He realised after a moment that you hadn't said anything and looked over his shoulder at you. 

“Kil…” you sighed, “I don't… I don't understand” 

He sighed and turned around, leaning against the bench behind him. He ran a hand down his mask in frustration - not at you, but at himself. Of course you didn't understand, you'd given him every opportunity to show he had feelings for you, and he'd thrown them all away. 

“I… I thought, for the longest time, that you just wanted me… for sex,” he started to explain, staring at the floor, “but I… I wanted more, I didn't want to be just something physical with you. And I didn't think you wanted anything more than that, but…” he paused, his mask turning in your direction now, “I realised today that maybe that wasn't true, and I've hurt you by just ignoring it completely.”

You were sure what to say. The man had just confessed his feelings for you when you thought up until five minutes ago that you'd never have a chance with him. Hell, your eyes were probably still puffy from crying about it. And now you were standing here, home baked cupcake in hand, made specifically for you, and a confession swimming in your mind. Your brain felt fried. 

“I…” you couldn't form a complete sentence, you were overwhelmed. You probably would have just said fuck it and kissed him, but the stupid mask was in the way, so you just awkwardly put your cupcake on the bench. You'd intended to turn to him after putting it down, but you found yourself stuck staring at the granite. 

A hesitant hand slid across the counter to where yours still laid after putting the cupcake down, and he took your hand in his. “Please say something,” he almost whispered. 

“Sorry I just…” you took a deep breath and a small laugh escaped you, “to be honest Killer, I just spent the evening crying over you, and now you confess these feelings I never thought were possible and bake me cupcakes and I… I'm just really overwhelmed, sorry” 

“I made you cry?” He whispered, sliding a little closer and squeezing your hand, “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to”

“I know, Kil,” you forced a smile for him, looking where you guessed his eyes were, “I know.”

He slid closer, wrapping his other arm around your waist and pressing his mask into the crook of your neck. You rested your head against it and sighed, pressing into the hug and squeezing his hand back reassuringly. Gods he was so close, and he smelt so fucking good, like musk and vanilla and cardamom, a rush of electricity sparked down to between your legs, you wanted to fucking devour him. 

“Fuck this,” you announced, suddenly over the tender moment when you remembered how fucking down bad you were. If the others weren't awake yet then maybe it was still technically Valentine's Day, the day wasn't entirely lost. You grabbed his hand firmly and dragged him behind you as you left the kitchen. He came willingly, albeit a bit confused, as you led him towards your room. He paused in his stride when he realised where you were taking him. 

“What?” You said, frustrated as you looked at him. He was far too big for you to lead if he wasn't willing.

“Uh,” he seemed nervous, “we should go to my room. My bed is bigger”

“ Oh,” you replied. Oh he was willing, apparently he had the same thing on his mind if he was making the suggestion. “Okay then, lead the way” 

He hesitated for a moment before gaining a sudden burst of confidence and grabbing you, picking you up and slinging you over his shoulder. “Oi!” You complained. He grabbed your ass and squeezed it in response, and you squealed excitedly, if you weren't wet before you were definitely wet now as the man you'd been fantasizing about for months carried you to his bed. 

He opened the door and immediately threw you on the bed, before turning and locking the door behind him. His chest was heaving as he looked at you and his pants sported a clear bulge. He looked big, even through his pants, and you swallowed heavily as your eyes ran up and down him. He was doing the same to you, his mask tilting up and down oh so slightly as he undressed you in his mind. 

You moved to the edge of the bed, kneeling, and beckoned to him with one finger and a sly smirk. He wasted no time ripping off his shirt and coming to the side of the bed, and your hands were all over him as fast as you could move them. “Fuck I've thought about this a million times,” you said before licking a long stripe up his abdomen, from the top of his blond snail trail to his collar bone, where you sucked and nipped before moving to his neck. He grunted under the mask, and one of your hands slid down his chest to rest over his groin, palming his bulge. 

His hips moved of their own accord, pressing his eager dick into your hand. You took the hint and brought your other hand down while you continued to kiss and suck his neck and trapezius, unfastening his jeans and pushing them down along with his boxers enough to let his large erection spring free. You paused your devouring to admire it, thick and veiny, the pink tip already leaking precum. A wide grin spread over your face, you knew this man would not disappoint you with girth like that. You bet he knew how to use it too. 

“Like what you see?” He mused, running a hand through your hair, tugging a little in an obvious hint.

“I do,” you purred, sliding your knees further back on the bed so you could lower your torso, bringing your face level with his hard cock. You looked up at him as your tongue met his tip, swirling around it before running a stripe along the underside. He groaned and pulled at your hair. “Use your words, Killer,” you cooed. 

“Fuck [Y/N], suck it or I'm gonna fucking die,” he growled, pulling your hair harder. 

You smirked and he moaned under the mask as you finally took him in your mouth. The girth pushed your lips to their limits, stretching your muscles almost painfully as you wrapped both hands around the base to pump what wasn't currently in your mouth. You started a slow, firm rhythm, moving your hands in the opposite direction to your head, meeting in the middle. His hips jerked and his dick slid deeper in your mouth, hitting the back of your throat before he suddenly pulled back. 

“Fuck, sorry,” he mumbled. 

“It's okay baby,” you purred, before taking him in your mouth again, the whole way this time. His eyes widened under the mask as your nose met his blond pubes, your eyes still looking up at him. You held him there for a moment, running your tongue along his underside, before sliding back and letting him go with a pop. 

“ Fuck,” he gasped, “you don't have a gag reflex?”

“Lost it in the war,” you winked, “you can be rough with me if you want”

You opened your mouth invitingly, sticking out your tongue, your hands running over his thighs. He eagerly took the invitation and shoved his dick in your mouth unceremoniously, grabbing your head with both hands to hold it still as he started to thrust. Slowly at first, but as he realised you really could take it he moved faster, using your throat like a cock sleeve. His moans as he used you made you unbelievably wet, you loved looking up and seeing him looking down at you, watching his cock disappear in your mouth while he fucked it. 

“Fuck… fuck,” he grunted before his thrusts stopped suddenly, his cock deep in your throat as his hot load spilled from it and slid straight down. You moaned around his dick in response, sucking your cheeks tight to milk every last drop from him, incredibly aroused as you watched him come undone, his head thrown back and his hands wound tight in your hair. He finally let you go, pulling your greedy mouth of his cock and throwing you further back on the bed. 

“Hungry little slut,” he growled, reaching for the strap that held his mask firmly on, “you're going to be the fucking death of me.” You heard the click of the latch and shivered with anticipation, eager to see what he looked like underneath. You let out an audible gasp as he removed it, revealing sharp blue eyes with heavy lashes and purple painted lips. 

“What the fuck, Killer?” You almost yelled, “why the fuck do you wear a mask when you look like that? ” 

He gave you a shit eating smile before climbing on top of you, his half hard dick pressing between your legs and giving you much needed friction. You moaned and rolled your hips up towards him, desperately seeking more. 

“No more talking,” he growled before smashing his lips against yours. He could taste himself on your tongue as it fought with his, both of you moaning and grinding against each other like horny teenagers before he finally broke the kiss. He grabbed your waist and pulled you up as he kissed and sucked your neck, leaving hickies and bite marks where his mouth traveled, while he pushed off your robe and pulled your nightie up over your head. When he let you go you landed with a bounce, your tits bouncing with you before he hungrily took one in his mouth and sucked at your hard nipple. His hand found the other, rubbing the pebble between his thumb and index and pulling gently to illicit small moans from you. 

His mouth traveled further down, his tongue leaving a wet trail on your abdomen as he made his way to your mound, his thumb finding your pussy and rubbing over the clothed folds. 

“Fuck, Kil, please,” you begged. 

He twisted the band of your panties with his index fingers and pulled them down, sitting back for a moment to free them from your ankles and throwing them aside. He looked at your naked body for a moment, admiring your soft curves and the marks he'd left on you. He stood up with a smirk, and you whined as he moved away. 

“Where are you going?” You complained.

“Give me a second,” he replied as he opened a side table drawer, pulling a hair tie from it and fastening it around his long blond mane as he returned to you. “Had to get my hair out of the way,” he crawled back between your legs, pushing your thighs apart and running kisses over them. You moaned as his nose ran over your center, and he used his hands to spread you open. 

“So wet…” he mused before running his tongue between your folds. You almost cried at how good it felt to finally have him on you, and his tongue quickly found your clit and swirled circles around it. He looked up at you from between your legs as he sucked on it, pulling a deep groan from you. Under his chin his hand slid up, his middle finger toying with your entrance before sliding in easily, twisting to find your sweet spot and pressing against it. 

“Hnng.. Kil..” you mewled as your hips rolled on their own. 

He slid in another finger, pumping you slowly, letting you stretch around his thick digits before adding a third. He pressed up against your g-spot, making short, hard thrusts against it while he continued to suck on your clit and play with it with his tongue. You were so pent up, your orgasm hit you so suddenly without warning, almost pushing his fingers out from how tight you squeezed around them as you squirted and shook. He worked you through it, paying no mind to the juices dripping from his goatee as you moaned and cried his name. 

He pulled his fingers out and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, sitting back on his heels and admiring his work while you panted. “Fuck, sorry Kil, I'm not usually that… violent,” you stuttered out between heavy breaths. 

He gave you a smug grin as he crowded back over you, kicking off his shoes and pulling his jeans the rest of the way off. “My girl only squirts for me, huh?” He leaned down and kissed you hard, forcing his tongue in and making you taste yourself. You thought it would taste bad, but the sweet musky flavour made you moan, “you taste so good baby, I could never get enough of that,” he cooed when he finally pulled away. 

His dick was hard again and he pressed the tip against your pussy, rubbing against your over sensitive clit. “Think you can take me?” His voice was deep and dark with arousal, it made you shudder. 

“Fuck, please Kil,” you were practically clawing at his forearms as your hips tried to meet him, but he skillfully kept his length away, “please, fuck me”

“Mmm,” he purred, running his nose against your neck till his mouth met your ear, “get on your knees” 

The second he leaned away you were moving, flipping to your front and presenting your ass for him, your wet pussy on full display and begging to be filled. “Good girl,” he cooed, pressing his tip against your entrance, “here you go baby”

He slid inside in one fluid motion, made easy by how soaked you were from your previous orgasm, and you both groaned as he bottomed out. He paused and let you adjust, his girth stretching you deliciously and filling you so well, his chest resting against your back as he waited for you to be ready for him. 

“Kil, move, please,” you begged. He didn't waste anymore time, starting a deep, fast rhythm, almost desperate, right off the bat. His heavy length rubbed against your g-spot with every thrust, making you moan with reckless abandon, uncaring of who heard. He grunted and whispered your name like a prayer as he fucked you hard, his front snapping against your ass and leaving it red with every deep movement. 

“Fuck, you're so tight, fuck,” he mumbled.

Your core was already tight as he lost himself in you, your body being shaken back and forth with the pounding, your orgasm quickly approaching. You barely had time to reach back and grab his thigh before you screamed out, your walls squeezing around him as you came hard.

“Ha.. fuck..” he grunted, slamming in to you and stilling as he came deep inside you, filling you with another hot load. 

The two of you collapsed onto the bed as he pulled out, his head against your shoulder blades and his hot breath making your skin damp. His hands were on your hips, holding you tight in place while you both caught your breath. He rolled off to give you space to breathe, laying on his back beside you, his head turned in your direction. You turned to him and smiled, reaching a hand up and pushing his messy bangs out of his face. His eyes closed and his face pressed into your palm, so you rested it against his cheek, caressing him with your thumb. You wondered if anyone had ever touched him like this, since he no doubt kept his mask on with other women. 

“Kil?” You whispered, sliding closer and resting your head on his shoulder.

“Mm?” He mumbled, his eyes still closed, half asleep at this point. 

“No more hiding feelings, kay?” You said softly, and pressed a chaste kiss to the corner of his mouth. 

“Kay,” he whispered back, before turning and wrapping himself around you, getting comfortable and falling asleep. 

He was still wrapped around you when you woke up, naked and spooning on top of the covers, the wrong way across the bed where you'd both fallen asleep. He kissed your shoulder as he felt you wake, humming as he ran his nose across your skin and breathed you in. He was already making plans to spoil you next Valentine's Day. 

[selfishdoll]

NOW PLAYING…. SUPERMASSIVE BLACK HOLE

You're the queen of the superficial, And how long before you tell the truth?

sum: being a physical therapist assistant wasn’t easy work at all, and it didn’t help that one of your patients was beginning to plague your thoughts, in more ways than one.

PURE COINCIDENCE . camboy & martial artist! kashimo hajime x physical therapist assistant! reader

cw: strangers to lovers (lowkey), kashimo & reader are 19-21, kashimo is ooc of course, modern au (no cursed techniques but he’s still strong asf), sex work, pet names, teasing, degradation & praise, shy!reader, curvy reader, kashimo is an ass man, lowkey corruption kink, slightly public sex, kashimo is reckless & dumb, dumbification, manhandling, rough sex, multiple orgasms, orgasm denial, choking, cervix fucking, unprotected sex, etc.

i spent so much time on this & was winging it fr so it didn’t come out how i liked 😭😭. & it got much longer then i wanted it to be. also please excuse any typos or errors, it’s late 🙏🏾

You always thought boxing, wrestling, and martial arts were such violent sports. You didn’t see the appeal of beating someone black and blue— or forcing them into submission. You weren’t a pacifist by any means but fighting was just something you didn’t get it. Especially, when it came to making money off it.

Truthfully, however— you didn’t need to see the point. Your only concern was massaging your patients and assuring they didn’t overextend themselves.

Which happened often.

Today would be a good day for you, a starting point actually. After two years of grueling work, several months of training, and being placed in a hospital you hated; you were finally sought out by a private practice— a gym for martial artists. From what you’ve heard they were good; winning tournaments back to back and putting on quite a show for the audience.

A name that frequently showed up was Kashimo Hajime, the proclaimed God of Lightning. A title earned given how fast he was, no one able to keep up with the amount of punches that he landed on his opponent. You were sure that was impressive in its own right, but you simply couldn’t get past the name.

It made you giggle each time you heard it.

Your eyes trailed away from the building infront of you and over to your phone hooked up to the stand in your car. You pressed your lips together, “Looks like I’m here..” You mumbled to yourself, feeling anxiety gather at the pit of your stomach. A new job always did that to you, imagining just about everything going wrong. From possibly falling or messing up a chart.

First day jitters always killed your motivation.

But, you took a small breath; eyes closed briefly as you sinked into your seat for a moment. It would be fine, this would be fine. You’re gonna do great. Such affirmations swarmed in your mind, pushing you away from delving down a deep hole of anxiety and insecurity. Once you felt your heart relax just a bit you grabbed your phone and tote bag, turning the car off and soon exiting it. Shutting the door behind you, you assured the doors were locked before approaching the large metal doors of the building. Pulling them open, your eyes scanned the large area. It looked like a relatively regular gym; punching bags hanging from the ceiling in a few places, weights, and treadmills. The most interesting thing was the boxing ring in the middle of the room.

“Hello, miss? Can I help you?” You jumped a little as the voice interrupted your train of thought, turning to face a woman who was seated behind the front desk. You flashed a false confident smile, approaching her while shifting through your bag. “H—hi, I’m [Full Name]. I’m here to start as a PTA.” Your hand finally clasped around what you needed, lifting a packet of papers from the confinements of your bag and passing them over to her awaiting hand.

Her eyes scanned the pages rather quickly, “Oh, you’ll be working with Ms. Makoto.” She mused, flashing you a small smile as she passed the papers back. “She always comes late, so for now; I’d suggest walking around to get a feel for your surroundings. Maybe even talk to your future patients.” She shrugged to which you nodded, a small thank you, escaping you.

You wish she hadn’t suggested the thing at all, given how nerve-racking it felt to you. However, you now felt obligated to do it, especially with the way she was smiling at you so sweetly. Damn her.

Situating the strap of your bag onto your shoulder correctly, you headed over towards the actual gym area; eyes on the swivel to assure you didn’t end up in anyone’s way. Like you hoped, however, the martial artists were far too focused on their training, paying you no mind as their fists slammed against some punch bag or they pumped their legs on the treadmill.

The atmosphere itself was nice, really. You didn’t mind it, maybe you would get used to it.

Once you were finished walking around the people lifting weights, your eyes traveled over to the boxing ring in the middle, noticing two forms entering it and several people surrounding it. Interest quickly invaded your mind, moving towards the crowd to get a better look. You luckily found your way to the front, staring up at the two men that were currently stretching.

One was unimpressionable; hair shaved short with tanned skin. He was shirtless showcasing his simple build. He wasn’t small but wasn’t big either, sculpted but not bulky? It was clear he wasn’t a seasoned fighter. But, as your eyes turned over to his opponent; the difference was all too clear.

Standing at an impressive six feet, cloaked in a tight black shirt and baggy white pants, bandages wrapped around his forearms. You watched as he cupped his hands together behind his back, stretching his arms and fuck, were they big. Or rather the man was big in general, enough so you pitied his opponent.

You watched as he rose his arms above his head this time, eyes zoning in on the way his shirt followed— revealing his toned stomach and the pretty blue trail that traveled down. Oh, how you wanted to see where it lead to.

“[Name]?”

“Huh!?” You gasped out of your daze, head snapping over to a woman that stood beside you. She had short black hair that illuminated her pale features perfectly, sharp dark eyes already staring at you. Her gloss stained lips curled once she had your attention, “I’m Makoto. I’m sorry for being late.”

You gave a nervous smile, “I—I don’t mind. I was just uh.. getting to know my surroundings.” The physical therapist nodded at you with a smile, eyes turning over to the ring as a small sigh escaped her.

“I’ve told Kashimo to stop entertaining these rookies.”

“Entertaining?”

Makoto nodded with a soft hum, crossing her arms over her chest. “They always want to fight him for some reason, riling him up until he finally agrees to a spar. It’s ridiculous,” She mused, tapping a finger against her skin. “It’s clear whose going to win.”

You pressed your lips together, eyes turning back to the ring. To your surprise, Kashimo was standing upright while his opponent was in a fighting stance. Cocky.. Was what ran through your mind, eyes darting between the two men.

The man with a shaved head blew air from his mouth, springing towards Kashimo in a single step. Your eyes widened as you watched the cyan-haired man step out of the other’s way, bawling his fists. The sound of skin to skin contact was the only thing you could register, astonished by the pure speed of his fists, opponent trapped under the flurry of his hits. Makoto was right, he didn’t stand a chance; falling to the ring the moment the god of lightning was finished with him. The match couldn’t have been longer than five seconds.

“Kashimo, It was only supposed to be a spar— not a knockout!” Makoto called, softly complaining about unnecessary concussions. You watched as Kashimo’s bored expression fixed onto the physical therapist, a small snarl on his face. Makoto hissed at this, fussing at him not to glare at her.

He didn’t entertain her yelling long, eyes traveling away from her and fixing onto you. You didn’t hold his gaze long, or rather— you couldn’t, given its intensity. You simply turned to face Makoto waiting for her to get over her yelling so you could get started.

. . .

A few hours of work passed, the only major concern being Kashimo’s opponent and assuring he had no fractures or concussions from the match. Much to Makoto’s relief, he didn’t. Other than that you were observing and looking over charts, noticing the inconsistencies in Kashimo’s. Makoto then explained to you the man ignored injuries and she quite literally has to corner him to get him into her office. The mental image made you laugh softly.

Soon enough your shift was over, being informed you did well and to come at the same time tomorrow. It delighted you to hear such a thing. Exiting the building, you approached your car while searching for your keys in your bag, humming softly to yourself. Finally finding them, you pull them out; attention however, shifting over to the gym doors when they opened.

To your surprise Kashimo stepped out, holding a large duffel bag in his left hand while his right? Reached for the end of his shirt, lifting it up and using it to wipe his face. All under your gaze.

You felt ashamed staring at him in such a way, especially since he was technically your patient.

“You need somethin’, Miss [Name]?” His voice was muffled against the damp fabric, pulling his shirt down to reveal his sharp eyes starting at you. You jumped in surprise, nearly dropping your keys. “Oh, oh, no! No..” You breathed out, shakily pressing the button on them to unlock your car. To your horror the man gave you a small smirk;

“Safe travels then.”

“Mhm! You too!” The words escaped you meekly and far louder then you wished. Snatching the driver’s side door open, you entered the vehicle, barely even slamming the door closed before you turned the engine over. You quickly pulled out of that parking lot, attempting to forget the scene that just happened.

. . .

A soft sigh escaped you as you sat on your bed, leaning back to lay down, arms laying across your stomach. The sky was painted black, stars twinkling overhead with the moon rested aimlessly. It was getting late and you needed to get some sleep for tomorrow. You weren’t sure how work would be but you wanted to mentally prepare for the worst. However, you just.. didn’t want to sleep yet?

It was weird, really. You didn’t feel tired despite how nervous you were today. You almost felt proud of yourself.

“Still need to get some sleep though..” You mumbled to yourself, rolling over to your stomach. Pressing your face into your plush blankets for a moment, you mulled over how to force yourself to sleep. Milk, melatonin maybe? You don’t know if you had either. You spared two more minutes of thought before an idea entered your mind.

Masturbation. You were a genius.

You reached blindly for your phone while turning onto your back again, scooting up farther onto your bed as you opened the dreaded X app. Ignoring tweets from friends and celebrities you went straight to the search bar typing in something random. You just needed to get off once, it normally worked for you.

Using one hand to scroll, the other went down to your lower half, happy you previously discarded your pants as your fingers brushed across your thinly covered pussy. Warming yourself up, your fingers pressed against your covered clit, slowly rubbing it; feeling the gentle pleasure travel up your spine.

Fifteen minutes passed of this and your agitated scrolling, frustration building as nothing in particular caught your eye. Each video was either too short or too boring for something to use, or even some too much. This wasn’t supposed to be difficult anyhow. Just a quick session and then sleep. Yet, here you were; boredly scrolling.

You nearly settled for your imagination rather then a video until something caught your eye. Your thumb hovered over the video, eyes zoning in on it. It was simple, a male by himself, showcasing his lower half but nothing else. You saw the imprint of his dick through his sweats, strong hand gliding across it; teasing himself.

Pursing your lips, you clicked on the video, getting into a comfortable position. You watched as he delicately pulled the strings on his pants, watching the band loosen. His hips rose, hooking a thumb under the waistband to slowly tug down— not far, but far enough his length slowly came into view; popping out when his sweats rested on his thighs.

You sucked in a breath, watching his veined hand clasp around his pretty cock. He was pale, tip a soft red with precum spilling from the slit. He was also.. well, big; lengthy and thick— particularly around the base. You attempted to imagine it inside you, pussy pulsing at the thought of it splitting you open.

His thumb rolled on the crown of his length, collecting some precum before smoothing it down his shaft. To your surprise you heard a soft groan, feeling your stomach tighten from the sound. Most men on this annoying app were quiet in their videos, something you couldn’t stand. And while he wasn’t loud, it was loud enough your hand went straight under your panties, beginning to roll tight circles on your clit.

You moved in sync to how he fisted himself, his soft sighs and grunts escaping your phone’s speaker; envious you couldn’t hear such things right into your ear. You bit your lip as your legs shook, two fingers traveling down your slick slit to plunge inside you. Your hips rose, grinding your clit into your palm as your eyes focused on the man. You gasped out, watching as his pace quickened, hips rising to meet the thrusts of his hands.

His voice became ragged, pants desperate as he chased his release. And you, your own. You were so close, watching this stranger fuck himself. A pretty sight you couldn’t look away from.

“Oh, fuck..” Was what he hissed, nearly making your eyes roll back. You were there, right there, so close, until— you noticed something. Your eyes had unfortunately wandered from his cock to his stomach peeking out under his shirt, spotting something.

A soft tuft of cyan colored hair.

Your eyes widened for a moment, feeling your pleasure come crashing down as flashes of Kashimo in the ring and outside the building entered your mound. The way it lined below his navel so perfectly, it was all too familiar. “There’s no way..” You thought to yourself, attempting to rationalize it in your head. Kashimo Hajime, martial artist known as the god of lightning just didn’t seem like the type to do such a thing.

But then again, you knew nothing about him, so who were you to declare it wasn’t like him?

Such thoughts killed your lust filled high, pulling your hand out of your panties and quickly clicking out of the app. You turned on your side, phone rested face down on your blankets. Your eyes pinched close, attempting to calm your racing thoughts and think of solutions to this.

It was all pure coincidence. Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe dying happy trails that particular color was some trend you didn’t hear about?

You seriously hoped it was.

. . .

Despite your many thoughts last night, you fell asleep shortly after that event. Though you did wake up and feel miserable, just imagining how nervous you’ll be facing Kashimo.

It’s probably not him.. right? You continued to try and convince yourself, closing your car door shut and beginning your trek over to the gym. Opening the doors and entering, you gave a brief smile to the receptionist that greeted you and made a beeline to Makoto’s office, reaching for the door.

Only for it to open, right in your face.

“[Name]! I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were there!” The physical therapist hissed softly, watching as you soothed the pain on your forehead. You only gave a small smile, shaking your head. “It’s okay. I wasn’t paying attention anyway.” The brief pain knocked Kashimo right from your thoughts, something you deeply appreciated and nearly thanked the reckless older woman for.

Makoto looked you over for a moment before sighing softly, nodding. “Alright, well. Set your things down. It’s not a lot to do today, but that could change.”

You gave a brief smile and nodded, entering her office. It was simple, resembling a hospital room with shelves lining the walls and a long black bed off against the wall. You placed your bag beside her own, turning around to spot Makoto at the door, talking to someone.

Moving closer you quickly realized it was Kashimo. His expression just like yesterday, bored with a snarl pointed towards the older woman— who was currently nagging, just like yesterday. You swallowed a breath, flashes of the previous night entering your mind, far too quick and vivid to ignore. It didn’t help that in the midst of her words his eyes traveled to you, causing you to still; wishing to fall through the floor right then and there.

The corner of his mouth twitched, “Don’t you have someone to mentor instead of wasting your time, naggin’?” Hajime questioned, finally releasing you from his gaze to stare back at Makoto. The physical therapist’s voice rose in pitch, Hajime turning on his heel and walking off much to her annoyance..

And your relief. You hoped he was too busy training to acknowledge you today.

Two hours passed with you following Makoto around, writing down a few notes on people’s charts and even tapping some people. They were nice and encouraged you even when your hands shook a little or you stumbled over your words. You really did like this job so far.

It was the afternoon now, Makoto letting you go on a thirty minute break. You entered the lounge room of the gym, hand clasped around the black container of food you had grabbed from your bag. Approaching the microwave, you opened it open and slid the container inside— shutting the door and pressing a random time. You leaned against the counter, scrolling through your phone for a moment before an idea creeped into your mind.

Assuring no one else was in the room, you clicked onto the app you used last night, going to your previous search and beginning to scroll. It took about five minutes before you finally reached where you wanted; the video you watched last night. Taking your food from the microwave, you clicked onto the account of the video, waltzing over to a chair and sitting down.

You attempted to rationalize looking at porn — or rather a porn account at work. It’s not like you were actively watching the videos, or touching yourself; you were simply searching for something, anything that signified this wasn’t Kashimo’s account.

But, you weren’t given much. Firstly, the account’s icon and header was blank while the bio was empty too. Despite this, it had quite a few tweets and followers, highlighting this account was quite popular. You bit the inside of your cheek once again, looking around you for a moment before clicking on the media section of the page. You scrolled, leaning your cheek into your palm. Most of it was solo stuff, showcasing his lower half and never his face. Your heart thumped however; when you noticed the spiky, cyan colored hair that rested behind him in a certain video. You bit the inside of your cheek, jumping when the lounge room door opened.

To your horror, Kashimo entered— giving you a brief glance before walking over to the fridge in the room. His hand reached for something, snatching it from the fridge and rising to shut the door, moving over to the microwave. While opening the door and placing his food inside, you watched his other hand fish his phone from his sweats.

And that’s when a idea popped into your head. A very, very stupid one. Your face turned back to your phone screen, biting your lip. You were still trying to convince yourself this wasn’t him, this was just some random man you’ve never met before.

And so, if you were to like a tweet of his where— your name was completely visible, you were sure he wouldn’t react at all. Your plan seemed solid, ignoring the nagging feeling in the back of your mind.

Taking a shaky breath, your thumb pressed against the hollow heart of a random tweet, slowly placing your phone back onto the table. Maybe.. maybe you were imagining it but, you could have sworn you heard the soft buzz of a phone.

One that wasn’t yours.

Fear shot up your spine, head moving slowly to the side, eyes traveling to the only other person in the room.

Who was already staring at you, cradling his black cased phone.

Your eyes locked, watching as a grin pulled his features. It was him, oh it was definitely him. Your eyes widened as the realization set in, quickly turning forward to snatch your phone and food from the table, getting up on shaky legs and heading towards the door.

“Not hungry, [Name]?” His tone was mocking, far too teasing for you to ignore. You didn’t even spare him a glance as you quickly shook your head, snatching the door open and exiting the lounge.

The realization of the situation finally dawned on you as you sped over to Makoto’s office, nearly crushing your container of food in your hand.

You had found Kashimo Hajime’s twitter, his.. special twitter. And he knew, you knew it was him.

. . .

About three weeks had passed since that fateful day. You were, surprisingly— okay. The day after it happened Kashimo seemed normal, not ignoring you but focused on his training. You remained on edge for the rest of the week expecting something. Maybe a big blow out or a private conversation, but you got neither.

And if you weren’t sure if you were happy, or upset by that. Either way, three weeks went by with radio silence and you growing accustomed to your job.

It was about forty minutes until you would clock out, seated at Makoto’s desk and flipping through papers. Your eyes scanned the page, assuring each chart was up to date and nothing was out of order. Luckily no one has gotten injured majorly these last few weeks, but the necessary procedures had to be done.

You heard movement beside you, eyes drifting away from the stack for a moment to spot your boss grabbing her things and placing them into her bag. Noticing your stare, she turned with an apologetic smile— “Sorry, [Name]! My daughter needs to get picked up. I’ll see you tomorrow?”

You nodded at her with a smile, glancing at the clock. You would have been nervous to be left alone, but it was only thirty minutes. And once you clocked out anyone that stayed back for training were on their own.

The door closed behind Makoto as she exited the office, your head turning to focus back on the papers. You hummed softly to yourself, pressing your cheek into your palm as you scribbled something on a page, flipping to the next.

Several minutes passed with this continuous routine, eyes finally shifting away from the work over to your phone. Five minutes until your shift was over. With that, you stood, collecting the papers into a neat stack before placing it back into its manila folder; placing that into your tote bag. You glanced around the area, assuring you weren’t leaving anything behind before grabbing your bag, pulling it onto your shoulder. Turning on your heel, you approached the door and opened it; letting out a soft startled noise.

“Oh, I was expecting Makoto..” Kashimo spoke, leaning against the doorframe. He was dressed in his usual attire; a black tight shirt with white sweatpants. His dark eyes traced over your form, tilting his head at you. You attempted to ignore the way his lips twitched a bit, as if holding something back.

You quickly cleared your throat, “Did you.. uh— need her for something? She left early is all.”

Kashimo hummed softly, “No..I think you’ll do.”

“What?”

“Think you could get the kink out my arm? I must have.. punched the bag wrong.” Kashimo claimed, smiling down at you. You withtook a breath, clenching the strap of your bag tightly. He was lying, and he knew he was lying too. Kashimo Hajime, punching the bag wrong? You could almost laugh at the thought.

And that smile? Oh— it was far from genuine, far from pure. Every alarm in your head rung, warning you to refuse and leave. Yet, you didn’t listen to a single one. Your body instead turned, waltzing over to the desk and setting your things down. “You can sit on the bed. I’ll take a look at your arm.”

The words barely escaped you before the deafening sound of the door closed behind him, a soft thanks, escaping him as he sat down. You felt his eyes on your every move, watching as you approached the sink and began to wash your hands— shakily, you might add. You spent extra time there, afraid to face the man.

Soon enough, however, you grabbed a paper towel from beside you; drying your hands and turning the faucet off. Tossing the soiled towel in the trash, you turned and walked over to him. “Wh—which arm?” You questioned softly, watching as he lifted his right one. You nibbled on your cheek, gently grabbing his bicep, thumbs pressing against the muscle carefully.

“If it starts to hurt, tell me..” You murmured softly, room back to being silent. This was stupid really; you making such a show of things. You knew he wasn’t hurt, shown in the way he reacted little with each squeeze you gave him; even pressing harder to see if he would react.

Like you suspected, Kashimo didn’t react at all.

“I wonder..” You blinked as his words interrupted your jumbled thoughts, blinking over to him. He was already staring at you, a small smirk pulling his lips. One that caused your stomach to drop. One that he wore in the lounge room that day. “—when you connected the dots, when you found out it was me.. did still watch me?”

You breathed softly, releasing his arm. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m not sure what you mean.” You played at acting dumb, a useless facade he didn’t fall for at all. Instead, Kashimo chuckled softly, turning to glance away from you.

“Oh, don’t play dumb sweetheart. You know I’m asking if you fucked yourself to my videos.” His tone was harsh, eyes turning back to you; gaze intense. You swallowed heavily, watching him slowly lift himself off the bed. You stepped back, murmuring as he met your step, backing you against the cabinets. “Bet you wished it was my cock instead of your fingers; splitting you open, fucking you until your nothing but a crying mess.”

“Kashimo..” You spoke softly, rising your hands and placing them at his waist. You needed space, air— you felt like you would suffocate with his large form covering; with his smell swarming your senses. You gasped softly as his lips moved to your ear, cool breath tickling your skin. “Please..”

“Haven’t even touched you and you’re already beggin’ for me.” His words were mocking, a breathy chuckle escaping him shortly after. “Go on.. tell me what you want, [Name].”

You could nearly moan at the way your name fell from his lips, eyes pinched closed as your hands crumbled his shirt in a tight grip. You struggled for a moment to form words, eyes pinned to the floor to avoid his gaze. Unfortunately for you, this was one of the few times Kashimo was ever patient; hands seated perfectly on the porcelain cabinets, refusing to touch you until you answer his question.

Finally, after what seemed like moments you glanced up at him, rising to lock your lips with his own. You, please. Was what you whimpered into his mouth, feeling him react immediately. A hand rose to wrap around your neck, the other coming to the underside of your thigh. Kashimo’s clenched around your throat a little, driving his tongue into your mouth and marking it as his own. You whined softly at this, gripping his shirt so much the fear of ripping it entered your mind briefly. The heavy makeout continued only his hand dropped from your neck, grasping your either thigh and lifting you. Your legs wrapped around his waist, feeling him walk backwards until he sat on the bed.

Your pussy rested just above his crotch, feeling his hardening length through the fabric of your stockings and his sweats. Your arms wrapped around his neck, murmuring against his lips as you slowly ground against him. To your dismay; the man rose his hand, slamming his palm against your ass— the sting causing you to jump, pulling back as a whine escaped your throat. “Kashimo—!” You hissed softly, glaring at the man who grinned back at you.

His fingers soothed the path, rubbing slowly circles into your covered skin, gripping every once in a while. “I suggest you fix your face or you won’t be coming at all tonight.” Kashimo breathed, slapping the same cheek once again. You lurched forward, gripping him so harshly as a soft cry escaped you. “Gonna take my time with you.. explore every inch of you under these clothes,” He hummed softly, hand reaching under your black dress, running his fingers across your thinly covered ass.

“— and i’m not gonna rush just cause your slutty pussy is desperate for my attention.”

“Kashimo…” You whined softly, pleading with your eyes. The man only smiled at you, a sinister smile; highlighting how much he enjoyed toying with you.

“It’s Hajime, princess.” The martial artist corrected, leaning to place wet kisses against your cheeks and neck. You moaned softly, feeling his fingers curl under your dress, slowly pulling it up your body. You moved uncomfortably as the cool air hit your bare skin, feeling him reach behind you; fiddling with your bra for a moment. Once he had unclipped the undergarment he tossed it aside with your dress, pulling back to glance at your exposed chest. You grew nervous under his gaze, having half a mind to cover yourself. Only, he didn’t give you enough time to do so before his large hands grabbed the soft mounds, leaning down to suck a kiss on your collarbone.

His thumbs pressed against your slowly hardening nipple, nicking your skin with his canines. You breathed softly at this, hands rising to curl your fingers into his hair, gasping as you felt his kisses lower; soft lips grazing your areola before he opened his mouth— wrapping his lips around your nipple. The unfamiliar feeling caused you to gasp, eyes pinched closed as you felt him began to suck; gently grazing his teeth across your heated skin while his tongue slid across your pretty bud. Hajime’s other hand was busy playing with your unattended breast, groping and rolling your nipple between his fingers.

Your moans grew, rising your chest into his face more; chasing after the pleasure he was giving, searching for more. All he was doing was sucking your breasts and yet, your pussy was clenching around nothing— feeling as if you were an inch away from release. You gasped out as he gently clamped down on your nipple, rolling the tender bud to hear you squeal. The ministrations continued as a hand traveled down your body, tracing the stretch marks that lined your skin— rubbing across your rolls before his fingers collected your stockings; pulling them down your body with such force they began to rip.

“Ha—hajime, they’re ripping.” You whimpered softly, words ignored as he snatched the rest of the ruined fabric from your body, tossing it to the forming pile. Your breath hitched as his hand traveled between your legs, two fingers gliding across your covered slit, feeling the wet spot forming on your panties. A soft swear escaped you as he pushed down, pressing against your clit, slowing rolling circles against it.

The added pleasure caused you to lean your head back, eyes pinched close as the feeling consumed your body. This was wrong, more than wrong actually. He was a patient and this was your boss’s office, the bed used by several others when being checked on. Yet here the two of you were, dirtying it with your own selfish desires. You should be embarrassed, maybe even ashamed.

Maybe you would feel so after he was done with you.

A soft pop escaped him as he rose away from your chest, the pretty mounds now tainted with his saliva. His eyes carried down your form, enjoying the sight; your hips moving at an attempt to find more friction in his hand, biting your bottom lip to cover the soft, pretty breaths threatening to escape your throat. Hajime hated himself for waiting to touch you like this.. to make you his. His eyelids lowered as he leaned close, pressing hot kisses against your skin again. “Using my hand to get off, huh? How pathetic..”

In any other situation you would have been offended by his choice of words, but now? It only caused you to moan softly, hips moving fast against his hand— feeling Hajime’s lips move over to your throat. You gripped him as you felt yourself grow more and more aroused, a band forming that was ready to break. Your moans grew louder as you got closer, digging your fingers into his shoulders before your eyes widened; feeling him move his hand away from between your legs.

The band slowly faded, high slipping through your fingers. You nearly sobbed— his name exiting you in a soft whine as the man did nothing but grin down at you. Hajime’s hands traveled up your form, soon tenderly wrapping his fingers around your neck, leaning close.

“Quit whinin’..” He cooed, stamping a kiss against your skin. You gasped as you felt his hood tighten a bit, hand drifting right back between your legs, breaching your panties. Without much warning he curled two fingers inside you, feeling your wet walls clench his thick digits. You swore softly, feeling his fingers reach much deeper then your own could; stretching you out and working you open.

Your pussy began to squelch with each thrust of the digits inside you, thumb rising to push against your engorged clit; hand continuing to hold you steady by the throat. Hajime enjoyed the way your pretty broken moans escaped your throat, voice vibrating against his palm. He curled his fingers once more, watching the way you jumped, tears threatening to spill from your eyes. “Can’t believe I’m fucking you dumb just from my fingers..” The words came out in an astonished coo, cock twitching under the confinements of his sweats and pants. Oh he couldn’t wait.. wait to see the way you fell apart as he split you open with his length.

But he needed to be patient. Needed to warm you up properly before completely ruining you.

So the pace of his fingers quickened, sounds of your messy pussy surrounding the room; acting as background noise for the high-pitched moans that escaped you. Your hips met each thrust, gripping his wrist to ground yourself. Your thighs squeezed his forearm, head knocking back as you came all over his hand. The man’s fingers soon slowed to a complete stop, withdrawing them from your wetness.

You barely registered him sticking his fingers into his mouth, sucking your mess off them. Once they were clean he leaned forward, kissing you softly— allowing you to taste yourself. So dirty..

Your lips moved slow, his thumb tracing your throat as a soft praise pushed from his lips. Soon enough you felt his hips rise, pressing his clothed cock against your wetness, grinding slowly. Even if you were still sensitive from just a few moments ago, you wanted, no, needed him desperately. So much so it nearly physically hurt.

Hajime rose, switching your positions to slowly lay you out on the bed, pushing you up higher. You whined as he body left you for a second, the sound quickly dying down when you noticed him unclothing. First was his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso and that damned happy trail. The man smirked at you as he tossed his shirt to the side, reaching for his bottoms next. Pushing them down, you watched as his length was revealed. To have it right infront of you rather then on a screen, well.. your phone didn’t do him justice at all.

“‘S not gonna fit.” You mused softly, eyes snapping back to his face, nervous. Hajime almost felt prideful from your words if it wasn’t for your tone of voice. He leaned close, pressing a kiss to your chin. “I’ll make it fit.” He mumbled, pushing close against you, grabbing his cock with one hand while the other grasped your thigh. Rubbing the tip across your slit, he smoothed your juices down his shaft, biting the inside of his cheek. Slowly, he pushed inside you, watching the way your eyebrows twitched, how your legs began to close.

A pained sigh escaped you, Hajime smoothing his hand up and down your heated skin. “Taking me so well, baby.. Just relax.” He spoke softly, hissing when he felt your walls clench from the praise. Soon enough his hips stilled the moment he pushed all the way inside, grasping the underside of your thighs— eyes closed. It took everything not to fuck you into the bed right then and there, feeling the way you carefully moved to adjust yourself; but each clench caused his resolve to wither away more and more.

Moments passed before Hajime opened his eyes, glancing down at you and searching for any sign of pain. When he realized there was none, he experimentally pulled his hips back so only his tip was inside, pushing back in— watching in delight at the way your mouth fell open in a ring O.

Nothing else held the martial artist, soft ruts quickly changing into slams. His cock bullied it’s way inside you, filling you completely. Your legs shook in his hold, gripping the fabric underneath you as broken moans escaped you. Hajime was knocking the wind out of you; pushing your legs up higher so that your knees were touching your chest. The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, something you would surely feel in the morning— but you didn’t care. The pleasure this man was giving you overshadowed it all.

Your walls clenched him with each drag of his hips, his dark eyes captivated by the way you hugged him so tightly. “Wanted me so fucking bad, didn’t you, princess?“ Hajime hissed, grinning as he watched your eyes attempt to focus on him. The man chuckled softly to himself, leaning over you, trapping you under his body. “Oh, you don’t have to answer sweetheart— I already know the truth.”

The man was drilling into you at this point, tip kissing your g-spot as shameless cries escaped you. Tears treaded down your warm cheeks, grasping his arms for stability. Your breaths were hurried, stomach clenching as you felt yourself get closer and closer. “H—haji.. Fuck, I’m so close!”

He relished under the nickname, slamming you into the bed as he planted hot kisses against your skin. “Go on, then. Make a mess on my cock, sweet girl.” With his permission you came, gushing around him; arousal dripping down his length to the floor. You trembled from the feeling, gasping once you realized he hadn’t stopped moving. So sensitive you were, crying out to him as you reached to grip his arm.

“I—I cant, Haji—!”

“You can..“ The man corrected, angling his hips to push deeper inside you. “Waited so long to fuck you like this, to watch you go dumb on my cock— ‘M not stopping until I repay you for those three weeks.”

And he wasn’t lying either. It was almost felt like hours passed with him putting you into different positions, driving you deeper and deeper into the bed to the point it began to creak. By now you could barely speak, could barely form a sound other then a jumbled babble of his name and a soft gasp.

In the midst of it all you were suddenly pushed against the wall, thighs wrapped around his form as he shoved himself into you; a spark of pain washing over you each time he brushed your cervix— pain that melted away rather quickly.

From the way his hips stuttered you knew he was close, his face pushed into your neck as he gripped your skin harshly. Skin on skin contact filled the room, desperate sounds of pleasure following until Hajime swore; spilling into you. The warmth alone pushed you over the edge, cumming for the upteenth time that night— walls milking his cock.

The man’s hips finally came to a halt, breathing heavily as he simply held you there up against the wall. After a few moments he walked backwards, sitting on the bed; the two of you groaning in sensitivity. He pulled your hot body against his own, cradling your lower back with his fingers tracing the dimples there.

The room was silent as the two of you caught your breath, simply enjoying holding the other.

Soon enough the man pulled back, continuing to smooth his hands across your skin. “You’ll probably have to call in sick tomorrow.” Hajime murmured, grinning at the soft chuckle that escaped you.

“Yeah.. you’re probably right.”

[scara-meow-che]

Dainsleif's dick being infused with abyss energy(?) like his arm-

Like yea Tartaglia's last form's dick, yeah Ito's oni dick, yeah zhongli's dragoon dick,but what of Dain???? That shit must be magical 😩

⦿ 𝗡𝗢𝗪 𝗟𝗜𝗩𝗘 ┃ eyes up here princess with dainsleif

CW. NSFW (MDNI), big dick! dain, fem! reader, use of words (princess), established relationship, teasing, first-time sex, implied oral, sex w/out penetration (thigh job and dick job? is that even a thing? idk, just read it to find out), dirty talk, magical dick (i am NOT sorry), mention of abyss princess lumine

AN. the new archon quest 🧍🏻‍♀️ it felt like a fever dream and it's a whole ass year again before we get to see this man so i am making it my mission to let him and his abyss-energy-fused dick live in my mind rent-free. also, if the anon that sent me this is still here to witness me posting this, hello :D this took me by surprise bcs i planned it to be short but here we are ig

it wasn't every day that you get dain's attention all to yourself.

you would often see him somewhere, busy, as always. sometimes, you would find yourself conversing with a few locals when dain tries to do things on his own as he would reason out that it's for your own safety. or you'd be up and about some part of the region searching for the abyss princess as to what he currently puts as his top priority.

these repeating turn of events would, most of the time, make you question whether you really matter to him seeing as he's always invested in things unrelated to you or what interests you. you don't ask too much from him but sometimes, a little attention would be nice, or have him answer all the questions that run inside your head.

yet, when dain would see that familiar expression painting your face as you make your bed for the night, he would put everything on hold and indulge more in what you'd request. he does make up for you, well, you have no complaints when he does because he'd always be there in a heartbeat for every beck and call.

hence why you're laid out on your bed, legs spread out with him toying with your already sore clit.

the idea of having sex had never once danced in between each conversation you'd have with dain. you'd rather spend the time to catch up on each other's day and sort out a route to where you both want to go next. it never fazed you when some people asked how your relationship with dain is going, not even bothered when some old women from liyue dramatically gasped as you've never been that intimate with your lover.

as the tension builds up throughout the months of overhearing people gossiping about their partners or be the victim of a drunk local telling you the tale of their sexual escapades, it draws out some images in your head. would dain be like the same as those oni's you've heard about? or have an impressive length similar to this one tale about a dragon lord? heck, would he have a dick that grows unrealistically big just like with the harbinger that you've heard about?

but who fucking cares anyway? you're about to get the real deal right now.

"what a curious mind you have there, princess." dain mindlessly mused as he press soft kisses along your thighs, leaving you breathless as he presses himself closer to your aching core. you can feel the heat from the big hard tent on his pants as he rubs himself to the dampness of your cunt. "i thought that eating you out could already satiate your pretty little head but you still want... what? what is it that you want from me again?"

he taunts, amused when he hears a cry from your disheveled form. "ah, didn't i say to tell me if you want something?"

"but it's embarrassing to say it!" you can't even fully reason out how humiliating it is for you to casually ask him that you want to see his dick as you let out another moan when he lightly thrusts his clothed cock on your core. he doesn't even let up, continuing his cruel pace in rubbing his aching dick on your already sensitive clit.

"p-please! i just, a-ah, want to see your d-dick!"

"say what again, princess?"

having enough of his teasing, you went to give your best in bending your body just to reach the big tent on his pants. "i want to see your dick dain and... i want you to fuck me, please."

you can feel a rush of heat all over your skin, your eyes quickly darting to the side to avoid dain's amused pair. a chuckle was all you heard before you felt his hands gently laying you down back to bed. in response to his pleased titter, you scoffed and gave him a quick glare.

"i'm sorry but you're just irresistible when you're so honest with me." he paused as he takes a sharp intake of air when he pulls out his leaking cock from the confines of his pants.

your eyes widen at the sight. no, it's not because he's as big as what you heard like the one of an oni or he has that delicious curve like that of the dragon cock but it's because the hue is unlike any other, the dark blue pulses as beads of white litters on the tip. fuck, when dain gave his dick a quick stroke, you can see how it grew a bit larger in his palm.

you drool just by imagining how it would feel inside of you.

"eyes up here, princess." he gave your thighs a light smack, pulling your attention back up before you felt the cockhead rubbing so gingerly on your little nub, smearing your cum on your lower lips.

"you're so eager for me, huh?" he can feel you trembling the more he pays attention to your aching core, gliding the head back and forth your lower lips, enough to push the head inside your hole but easy for him to just pull right back out. he's testing out the waters, waiting for more of your reactions and he could only see you enjoying yourself being please with the tip of his dick.

"just look at you, so wet and ready for me." and you are, feeling your arousal pool and spill right out of your needy hole while dain keeps making a mess out of it. your hips desperately buck right up, chasing for the head but he kept you pinned down on the soft mattress as he continues teasing you.

"dain, please, want to feel more of you." your hand went to grab his arms, giving it a light squeeze that you knew would get him to listen to you.

but it did the complete opposite.

"didn't you say that you want to see my dick?"

before you could argue back, dain had gently straightened both your legs upward, his strong arms locking you in place before pushing the dark blue cockhead in between your thighs. "been wanting to do this for so long," he uttered with a low groan, his body shivering when he thrusts his cock in the middle of your soft flesh, the rushed and hasty movements of the head prods at your clit. "you look so pretty like this, just letting me use you."

you gasped for air when he purposely prods at your puckering hole, angling his abyss-energy-fused cock to dive in and out of your thighs. your eyes caught a glimpse of how each streak of white glow, the nerves pulsing as he ruts himself so needily on you.

"so keep your pretty eyes on me and maybe, if you managed to do so, i might just give you what you want."

and you did, you desperately tried your best to keep looking at dain and just watching how he use your thighs to get off. it was a rare sight to see dain lose himself, tottering over the warmth and softness that covers his dick.

at first, he was scared that he might scare you off, thinking how unusual his cock looks. compared to what he thought you'd prefer to see in between your legs, about to rail the innocence out of you, his was far off the scales.

but when he saw your eyes almost sparkled when he pulled out his dick, hands so damn eager to touch him, and both your lips spilling out how much you want more of him just sends him over the edge. his pace quickened the more he stares at your needy form, enjoying the way your eyes fluttered close whenever he brushed against your hole before proceeding in sliding his cock back on your thighs.

"i'm so close, fuck, you feel so good 'round me like this, princess." and fuck, yes, you can feel more of his pre-cum ooze around the head and coats more of your already slick skin. it felt so dirty, so filthy to watch him fuck himself with your thighs and you felt dirtier when you were enjoying how his large dick, fused with the same abyss energy as his arm, slides back and forth your thighs.

"cum for me please," you whispered, urging your lover to release his load on your skin. within seconds, dain stopped his thrusts as he buried his cock between your legs, pressing it tighter as he shoots his load on your flesh, slowly having the thick globs of his cum drip down on your core.

while dain goes to steady his breathing, you went to open up your legs to see how much cum had covered your body, the scent of sex causing your head to fizzle out that you had nothing in your mind but the need to see his dick filling you up.

dainsleif was shocked when you went to reach out for his cock, the keenness in your eyes captivating as you focused on his dick.

"wanna see how it looks as you fuck me." your request came like a cry, a whimper of desperation. and you can feel the way dain's dick twitched on your hand.

you're going to be the death of him.

⠀⠀scara-meow-che © 2023 ┃ do not copy, modify, or repost ANY of my content

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule VI

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader (Mafia/Detective AU)

Summary: In which you didn’t know who he truly was- until it was too late. Or in which he found heaven in you.

Warnings: Secret Identity, Yandere behavior, Obsessiveness, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, Violence, Mention of death, Disability, Sexual themes, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: never tell me I don’t love my readers when I’m here writing when I just got my heart broken hehehehe

Masterlist, Latibule V

You turned around when you heard a dull thump of mug hitting the wooden table, distracting you from looking at the stars. Suga was standing behind you with his own steaming cup of coffee, looking tiredly at you before taking a seat.

“Finally got him to sleep?”

He sighed before taking a sip from his coffee. He brushed his hair away from his face as he looked up at the stars. “Seriously, who needs bedtime stories in order to sleep?” He scoffed, remembering how Jackson insisted that he read him stories because, and he quoted, ‘Ahjussi has a deep, nice voice perfect for princes and monsters’.

See, he didn’t even know why he digressed, but that little child looked up at him expectantly that he found himself doing voices that made the child laughed. It was so out of character for him, the big, bad mafia. If his men saw him like that, they would surely thought he hit his head or something. Even he thought that he hit his head. Otherwise, why would he do all those things?

“Children, Suga,” you chuckled at his exhausted face before returning your gaze at the stars, of how they twinkled back at you, of how tragically beautiful they were. You never tired of looking at them night after night, committing them to memory, admiring them from afar. “Didn’t your parents read to you when you were a child?”

He chuckled tonelessly. His family wasn’t exactly…conventional. Hell, if he was raised with normal childhood where parents loved their kids, would he have turned out fine and not the fucked up man he was? The one who was incapable of love?

You looked at him as he looked up at the stars, his hands resting behind him, supporting his weight. The night was quiet, peaceful even. He looked so stoic, so tranquil that you thought he would never answered. After all, you practically knew nothing about him. For heaven’s sake, you had to name him because he refused to give you his name. Despite him existing in your life for months, you didn’t know any truth about him. He was always quick to dodge your questions, asking you questions of his own instead of answering. You didn’t expect him to tell you any of his truths.

This was also the reason why you convinced yourself not to look too much into what you felt, or how your heart seemed to calm when he was near…or how you felt like you were no longer alone for the first time since that tragedy that changed the trajectory of your life. This was all temporary, you kept telling yourself.

One day, he would leave and you would be alone again.

However much to your surprise, he finally answered. “My mother…used to sing lullabies to me every night,” his deep voice divulged, his eyes still trained to the stars you loved to look up to every night. This was the first time he talked about her, the first time he looked back on the nightmare that was his childhood. “She loved singing those French love songs,” he chuckled humorlessly, remembering how her voice calmed the young Yoongi.

“She’s probably worried about you right now…” you mused, thinking of how he had been gone from his normal life for months now. What parent would have not been worried, you thought.

He smirked before looking at you with emotionless eyes. “Why? She’s dead. And even if she’s alive, I don’t think she’s the kind to be worried.”

You frowned, surely that wasn’t the truth, you thought. “Suga-“

He leaned in, looking intensely at you, taking your space as though it was his. He placed his fingers under your chin, tilting your face to his liking. “She gave me this scar,” he whispered, his tone light like he was merely talking about the weather. “Daddy dearest made her choose. Her face-“ he tucked your stray hair behind your ear, his fingers touching your softly as though he wasn’t telling you his tragic childhood. “-or my eye. Guess which one she chose?”

Your lips trembled at what he said. You struggled to look at his eyes, your eyes shifting. What kind of twisted parents would hurt their child? What kind of demon would scar a helpless child? This close and you could see how deep the scar was and it pained you to think of the young Suga bleeding and crying as he clutched his eye.

“And now, I’m hideous,” he sneered, taking your silence as rejection, as disgust, as loathing. He was about to step back when you reached out and slowly, oh so slowly, traced his scar.

“Who told you that?” You asked softly, looking at his eyes with sincerity that it terrified him because no one had ever looked at him like that. You smiled at him, “You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen, Suga.”

He looked at you with wonder, his expression slowly relaxing. How could an angel such as you thought of him as beautiful? If…if you knew what he had done, what he was capable of doing, would you still willingly touch him?

Would you still call him beautiful?

Would you finally see him as the monster that he truly was?

You were about to pull away from him when he laid his hand on yours, unwilling to be separated from this feeling that he couldn’t name for how could he when he was never shown love? When he was never taught of love?

How could he knew he was falling for you when that emotion was foreign to him?

“I-is your father still alive?”

He shook his head, not trusting his voice. He thought he would feel regret when he opened up about his past to you. Strangely, all he felt was peace. He felt lighter.

“Good,” you whispered, nodding your head. They didn’t deserve to still be in Suga’s life after the horrifying deeds they did to a defenseless child.

“Noona?”

You snapped out of the trance that you were in, quickly putting distance that Suga hated upon hearing Jackson. He was rubbing the sleep off of his eyes as he walked to where the two of you were. “I woke up from a nightmare. A monster was chasing me, ahjussi,” he said sadly, cheeks damped from his tears. He looked up at Suga with a pout, lifting his little arms expectantly. Yet Suga looked at him in confusion.

“What? W-what does he want, Angel?” He asked you, shifting his gaze from the young child to you as though he was asking for help.

“I think…he wants you to pick him up.”

He sighed before easily picking him up. The child was quick to wrap his arms around Suga’s broad shoulders, his chubby cheeks leaning on his shoulder. “I wasn’t scared, ahjussi! I knew you can fight the monsters,” he boasted sleepily.

Suga didn’t even notice himself smiling at the sentiment. Of course he would slay all the monsters…despite him being one. Once the two of you got him in bed, Suga was about to turn around and leave when he called for him, whining about wanting him to stay so he could slay his demons.

And in that moment, Suga looked at you for permission. He held your eyes captive, his eyes gently awaiting your decision. You nodded at him, and the three of you laid quietly. Jackson was fast asleep in between the two of you, the darkness of the night making it difficult for you to know whether Suga was sleeping. Yet, when you turned to look at him, he was already looking at you with his dark eyes, his body fully attuned to yours.

You turned to him, your hands under your head as you looked at him. “I’m glad you survived that,” you whispered truthfully, your eyes tracing his scarred one.

He looked as though he was contemplating. You thought he would never answer as he was only looking at you, but then he asked, “Why?”

“Because you’re here now.”

In that moment, he was convinced now more than ever that they never loved him. Because when you loved someone, you would never hurt them, you would never even entertain the thought of hurting them. No. When you love someone, you protect them. You cherished them. You would never, ever, lay your hands on them. Yoongi thought that he would rather die than hurt you.

-

“May I help you?” You asked the tall and broad shouldered man. You noticed him looking around the clinic, his back facing yours. He looked like he was at loss as to what to do.

He turned around slowly, his dark eyes focusing on yours as he took you in. You weren’t ready when you finally saw him. He looked like he could say that he was a movie star and you would completely believe him with no question asked. He could claim that he was a prince and you would say, ‘yep, that sounds right’.

In conclusion, his beauty was out of this world. And he looked like he was aware of it. He had this clean look in him, almost clinical in nature. His hair was neatly combed back, his long-sleeves folded to his elbow.

“I…” he started, his brows furrowed as he considered what and how he was going to say. “I lost my cat.”

“Oh no, that’s terrible!”

He scrunched his nose and thought whether losing Yoongi was really terrible. His life was way quieter without him. Did he really want to look for him, he thought. He looked like he was in deep contemplation. “It…is?”

Your head tilted to the side in confusion. Wasn’t it a terrible thing to have lost your own pet?

At your expression, he straightened and nodded his head solemnly, willing you to believe him. “Yes. It’s terrible. It is.”

“What did you say you lost?”

“Yoongi,” he whispered under his breath.

“What?”

“I meant- a cat. I lost a vicious cat. A dangerous one,” he stated, his voice strong. “It is imperative that I find him.”

You blinked at his statement, and then some more when he wouldn’t stop looking at you. “Do you want my help?”

Suga looked at the clinic’s secretary with a dull expression on his face. For weeks since he started working at that diner as a waiter slash guard when rowdy teenagers visited the diner with no intention to pay, he always picked you up from the clinic. It became your tradition to go home together. He would go to the clinic as soon as he finished his work, and you would be where he wanted you to be- in your office waiting for him.

So where the fuck were you now?

He had his arms crossed, his eyes trained on her despite her trembling form.

“She’s not here,” he repeated slowly, not liking the thought of not knowing where you were. It pissed him off. It unnerved him. It didn’t sit right with him.

“She left early with some guy…”

Min Yoongi had never felt that exceedingly terrifying feeling before. It gnawed at his bone, it punched his heart as his brain thought of million grotesque scenarios concerning you. Did his enemies find you? Did his enemies found out that he was fucking alive? Did they somehow get to you?

Did you now know who he truly was?

His hand curled into a tight fist as he felt darkness clung to his mind. Was this how his paradise end?

You eyed the man sitting on your sofa. You helped him looked all over the town to no avail, yet when you asked him if he had a picture of his pet so that the search would be easier, he claimed that he lost his phone early that day.

He was calmly sipping the coffee you made him, looking around your house with nonchalant observation. It was already dark outside and you kept on looking at the clock. You wondered where Suga was. It was hours past his shift and he still wasn’t home.

“I’m sorry we didn’t find your cat.”

He smiled gently at you before softly placing the cup of coffee back on the table. You noticed that his movement was always refined, that he moved with an air of elegance as though he was born with a golden spoon.

“That’s fine,” he started, his voice deep and his eyes shone with intelligence like he knew something you didn’t. “He’ll come.”

You were about to ask him what he meant by that when the front door slammed opened. Suga’s eyes seemed to appear darker than the usual, his form menacing. This was the first time you saw him resembled a wild predator. He seemed to appear unhinged, his look of bewilderment when he finally found you made you unconsciously stepped back as he neared you with heavy steps.

But you didn’t get far.

You would have fallen had it not been for his arms that wrapped around you tightly as though he would never let you go. You never knew how big he was until he had you plastered to him, his form completely enveloping you. This close and you could hear how hard his heart was beating, how it wanted to break free from the cage that was his ribs. This close and you could feel how his body was trembling with an emotion you didn’t know.

“S-Suga-“

“Never,” he growled, his dark hair cascading on his face making him looked more feral. He gently pushed you away, his hands on your shoulder as he made you looked at him with ferocity. He was taking you in, the alarm in his face hadn’t gone down an inch. But the moment he saw you, he looked as though a weight had been taken off his shoulder.

He had never felt as thankful to whatever deity or Gods that were out there than he did the moment he saw you alive, that you were still here in front of him, that he could still fucking hold you.

“Never, ever go somewhere without telling me first,” he growled at you with a dark look on his face . He was imposing and serious like you had never seen him before. “Never go somewhere where I cannot fucking follow-“

“Suga, please calm do-“

“Do you understand me, Angel?” He cut you off as he tilted your chin up, making you understood how fucking terrified he was, of how he would find any other answer unacceptable but your agreement. And when you finally nodded did he reluctantly let you out of his hands.

And only then did he notice the man sitting on the sofa with a smirk on his face.

“Hyung.”

- National Police Agency, South Korea -

Park Jimin was staring at his laptop unblinkingly. Ever since he found out who the traitor was, he was at loss with what to do. He was raised to value both the organization and family. And right now, he needed to choose between the two.

He couldn’t find the answer as to why he was able to do what he did. He couldn’t understand why he betrayed Yoongi when he protected them like they were his own brothers. Min Yoongi, as dangerous as that man was, took lashes for them. He would tell them to fuck off and then catch a bullet for them. He made the difficult decisions for them. He bled just so the seven of them could live.

Min Yoongi was the most loyal man he ever knew.

And so, how could that traitor do that to him?

“Detective Park.”

Jimin lifted his eyes to the man who called him. He was wearing his uniform, just having been temporarily promoted to Yoongi’s position. He was smiling like the sunshine he was perceived to be, yet behind those smiles lied something dangerous…something sinister.

“A word.”

He smiled at the traitor.

He smiled at Jung Hoseok.

Latibule VII

[astermath]

nemesis; part two.

pairing: carmen berzatto x fem!reader

summary: with carmen reworking the restaurant, you’d think his mind would be far too occupied to even think about anything else. yet he can’t shake the guilt from what he’d put you through a month prior. after some talks in therapy, he decides to take a leap of faith and see if he can talk it out with you. he not only wants to convince you that he can be better, but he's got an offer for you too. one you truly can't refuse.

♡ landing page ♡

word count: 4.9K

tags: carmen being unsure about his feelings but trying to be better episode 3265742, letting reader in a little more, APOLOGIES!!!, cursing ig, carm goes to therapy yippee, syd being the absolute realest, regular font below!

notes: sorry this took literally forever omg, I lost my carmen muse for a bit but we are SO back baby. I missed him so much and so sorry if some things don't follow the canon completely (I've been watching season 2 on and off bc I've been so busy lol BUT my fics never follow the canon completely anyways),, hope u guys enjoy and let me know if you'd like a part three ;))

lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list for further carmen berzatto related content! comments and reblogs are highly appreciated!

Carmen’s life hadn’t known a moment of mental rest in ages. If you asked him when he last sat down with his thoughts or acknowledged his mental anguish, he probably would have said he couldn’t remember the last time. If ever.

With plans to completely revamp The Beef and everything that came with it, now his feelings should be the last thing on his mind. Renovation plans, unforeseen costs and a completely new menu, sure, he could worry his ass off about those, but feelings? Absolutely not. Good thing he was usually so good at suppressing those anyways.

So why was it that he couldn’t shake the thought of what he did to you?

Why, every time he had a moment to himself, would he be overtaken by this intense feeling of guilt? He didn’t even have to be alone, just a second of quiet and the image of you crying in distress would intrude on his thoughts.

It was getting to a point where he’d told his sister, Natalie, about it. Well, not all of it, he wasn’t even sure if he knew all of it. Just that he knows he hurt you, and that coming to terms with what he projected onto you might be a good first step in understanding himself better.

Or maybe it was something more along the lines of “I gotta talk my shit to some people”. Probably that.

To his surprise, it was actually helping. Besides the group therapy sessions where he’d talk about Mikey, the business and his future, he was talking to other people in his life too. Even told Sydney about you, kind of on accident. The words just seemed to… Flow out. It was probably the exhaustion doing its thing.

“I guess I just felt like,” he kept his eyes on the floor he was sweeping, “she was doing it all to fuck with me. I don’t even know where I got the sick idea that she had some obsession over me, but it— it drove me at the same time. It’s like her being on my heels at every aspect of culinary school just made me want to try even harder.”

“Maybe you painted her in that light because you knew it was a good way to keep pushing yourself.” Sydney spoke almost absentmindedly, sweeping the other side of the room. She listened to everything he said in the meantime, and though what he was telling her was a bit worrying, she was glad they got to have talks like this. Carmen often doesn’t like to bring up his past like that.

“Huh,” he paused sweeping for a moment, “yeah… yeah, maybe. Or maybe it was something else.”

Sydney wasn’t even sure he knew what he was referring to. It sounded like something entirely different, like a crush, but what kind of person treats their crushes like that?

Probably an overworked, pressured, overachieving culinary student with a dangerous need for validation. But she wasn’t about to tell him that.

“So yeah, I visited her restaurant, and… It just felt the exact same as back in New York, you know? Like she was rubbing it in my face again, and— and I know that sounds insane, or conceited, but I just can’t let it go. It’s like the thought of her is stuck to my brain like a stubborn piece of gum.” He wanted to smack himself for that stupid analogy, but what was said was said.

“So how’d you handle it?” Sydney’s head perked up, some of her braids now draping over her shoulders.

“Handle what?” Carmen became more and more uneasy the more he talked about you. Like his chest was tight, it was uncomfortable, but not in the way he was when the health inspection came by, it was different. Weirder. Unfamiliar. He didn’t like it, because he didn’t understand it.

“The talk with her.” She emptied the last bit of dust into the trash bag.

“Oh,” his mind took him back to the parking lot a month ago. The way he could almost taste the tears of your skin from how close he stood, he could hear the shakiness of your breath and the profound desperation in your voice when you apologized to him, when you really had no reason to.

If it was still so clear in his mind, then what must it be like for you?

“Carmen?” Sydney snapped him out of his oncoming train of thought.

“Yeah? Sorry, I— Uh, I don’t know it was…” He runs a hand through his hair, suddenly finding it in his best interest to look anywhere else but her face. “Bad. It was— It was bad.” He looks a bit shameful when he meets her eyes. “I fucked up. I like, went all New York boss on her. And then I just… Left.”

His colleague just stares at him for a moment. She knew what he was like when he snapped like that, but that was with his staff, people he liked. So how badly did he snap on you, a person he’d been resenting for years?

“I’m gonna go take out this trash, and uh… Head home.” She lifts the grey plastic bag she was holding. “But uh, Carm?”

“Yeah?”

“You got issues, man.” She has a bit of an awkward smile on her face, but he knows she means it. He knows she’s right. She usually is.

He nods, silently, letting her words sink in. He did have issues, everyone knew that, but most people didn’t just say it. That’s why he liked Sydney, she was so real, so honest. She was so good for the business, for the kitchen. And maybe her saying that to him was all part of grounding him in the reality of it all. Of his issues, just that they existed.

“Heard.” he says. His voice comes out raspier than he expected, like he’s struggling to say it.

“Goodnight, chef.”

“Night.”

He’d thought about what Sydney said the entire night. He does have issues, he knows that, he’s just mad at himself for letting everything get this far before seeking help. It scares him. Because it reminds him too much of Mikey. Or what he heard about him when things got bad.

He doesn’t want to make the same mistakes his brother did. Lock people out of his life just because it seems easier, because it’s better to minimize the damage than to figure out why you’re doing damage at all. And yes it’s uncomfortable, yes it’s scary, terrifying even. But he keeps being reminded of how it must feel for you.

It’s something he’d never considered before. He always thought he had you all figured out, all fake smiles and backhanded compliments to distract him. It never occurred to him to just… Ask. It was always just easier to assume. It fit his view of you and it kept him going, even if it was at the expense of ever getting to know you at all.

He’s hoping he can change that with a few text messages and a long, probably uncomfortable, talk over coffee. Just hoping, trying, that’s really all he can do. He’s well aware of how bad he is at communicating, but he has to give it a shot. For you, at least.

He stares at his phone screen for far longer than is necessary, continuously rereading the messages he’d typed. His eyes keep flicking to your contact, making sure he sent it to the right person. The only thing you two had texted about before was a time and place for him to try your new restaurant. His heart aches at the exclamation points and emojis you’d sent; you were so excited, and he drove all that excitement straight into the ground.

He closes his eyes and shuts off the phone. His chest hurts, like he’s been holding his breath the entire time. Maybe he has. You could have that effect on him, making it harder to breathe. He always wondered why he had such nervous reactions around you specifically. He always figured it had to do with your one sided rivalry, but it feels… Different. More complex.

Your eyes are finally peeled off your computer screen when numerous phone notifications alarm you. Truth be told, you’ve been trying your best to keep yourself occupied as much as possible. That usually helps when you get waves of emotions like this, keeping busy, distracting your mind from overthinking.

Ever since your last encounter with Carmen, you’ve been so on edge. Always trying to do something, anything, so you wouldn’t have to think about what happened, why he acted like that to you. Because you know if you did, you’d just start blaming yourself again, and you’d be back to square one.

Your eyebrows raise at the name of the contact. You were sure he’d blocked you, or at least deleted your number after last time. He was avoidant like that, and frankly, you weren’t sure if you wanted him to talk to you again after that anyways. Maybe it was just to drive the point home, make you feel even more worthless.

Still, you were curious. Even if it was just to cuss you out even more, at least you knew what to expect, right?

[carmen]: hey, I really want to talk to you about what happened last time.

[carmen]: well

[carmen]: I want to apologise

[carmen]: but I can’t do that like this

[carmen]: I’d much rather do it in person

[carmen]: if you’d let me

[carmen]: meet me at odette’s tomorrow around 10? coffee’s on me, I just want to talk

[carmen]: please

The last message was sent minutes later than the rest, while you were reading them. He was desperate for an answer, and though you wanted to hear him out, to talk to him, something in you felt off about the whole thing. Like he was just doing this to clear off his own guilt, only to then ditch you just like he ditched you after culinary school. Because you’re rivals, apparently. That’s what you do.

But then there’s something else in you too. The part that’s still nostalgic about New York with him. About the glances back and forth when you were timed on preparing certain things, about the way he’d stare at you when you got feedback, the ignorant bliss you lived in. When you still believed he might have liked you just a little.

That part of you takes the upper hand when you reply and take his offer. Your heart is in your throat, nerves overtaking you already and you weren’t even with him yet. He had that effect on you sometimes, making it harder to breathe.

You wondered what that meant.

Carmen sits alone at a booth, all the way at the back of the café he’d chosen. It’s rather quiet, as most Mondays are, yet at the same time, it’s so loud. Loud in the way he hears the clinking of every spoon against porcelain cups, the crinkling of a napkin and the not so subtle ticking of the clock above the entrance. 10:06. You were late.

Suddenly he's filled with more regret than he's ever felt before. He's not ready to see you again, only to be reminded of how he made you cry, and of his own tumultuous emotions and shortcomings that lead to this moment. It's surprising how fast the emotions he associates with you changed; he's not angry anymore, he's scared, guilty, nervous. He wants to see you so bad and yet he feels like you'd be better off never talking to him again.

It's too late to make a run for it when you finally walk through the door. Hair a little damp from the rain, just a bit disheveled from what he could only assume to be rushing over to the café. And that same angelic smile you offer to the barista that greets you, the same one you'd offer him every morning, whether he looked at you or not.

He had no choice but to look now.

Your smile falters into something more nervous, a little melancholic, when your eyes meet his across the café. Though you knew he was going to be there, something in you feels surprised to see him again. Maybe it’s because he isn’t yelling at you or throwing insults at your head this time. Or maybe because he’s actually looking you in the eye. Since when did he get so good at that?

You sit down across him, taking off your coat and putting your bag besides you.

“Hey.” You smile again, much more awkward this time.

“Hey.” He returns the same thin lipped smile.

It’s quiet for a few seconds. Carmen swears the whole café has gone silent in that moment, leaving the two of you to listen to the sound of your own breathing and heartrate picking up. You’re not sure where to look, not being used to being in such an intimate setting with him.

“Do you want a coffee?”

“Sorry I was late.”

You both talk over each other, and the urge to chuckle about it overtakes you. Carmen can’t help but smile as well. You seem nervous, and somehow that puts him a little more at ease. Like he’s not the only one who’s in their head about it.

“Sorry, I, uhm, yeah— I would like a coffee.” You scramble over your words. “Please.”

“Sure,” he nods, “and no worries.”

“Hm?”

“That you were late. I haven’t been here that long either.” He lied. He’d been there half an hour early, cursing himself for letting him sit along with his thoughts for that long and psyching himself out into almost leaving.

You both order and another heavy silence sits between you two. You both know why you’re there, what needs to be talked about. Yet neither of you know how to bring it up.

You’ve lived most of your lives believing this version of each other you had in your minds. Because it kept you grounded. Because it was easier. He never let you in and for the longest time, you were at peace with that. You could have a slightly distant view of who he was, your classmate, your rival. And he could do the same. Keep you out, pretend you were there to keep him on his toes, to always try to outdo him.

Those facades of each other don’t work anymore. The real world has forced you to reconcile with each other, whether you liked it or not.

Your coffee gets brought to your table, and both of you feel this urgency to say something, anything, at least.

“The pastries here are good too, if you want to get one.” He finally broke the awkward silence. He can start with talking about food, something he knows. If all else fails, resort back to that.

“I haven’t tried a pastry besides my own in a long time. Maybe I could learn a thing or two here.” You admit. He knows that feeling. He’s not nearly as adventurous with his food choices as he wants to be, but as a busy chef on the brink of a new entrepreneurship, it’s usually beef sandwiches and frozen meals.

“I think yours were better though.” He takes a sip of his coffee.

“Huh?” You look up, realizing you were avoiding eye contact by staring into your cup.

“The danish I tried at your place. It was fire.”

“Oh. Right. Thank you, we make everything from scratch.”

“I could tell.” He takes another sip. “I guess I— I kinda forgot to tell you that. In the heat of it all.” He huffs to himself. “Food was so good it made me upset.”

“Upset?” His word use frustrates you. Upset is when they forget to give you your sauce with your order. What happened back there was not upset. That was rage. Wrath. You raise an eyebrow and he realizes he said something wrong.

“Well, more than upset. Listen, I— We need to talk about what happened.” His blue eyes peer into your own. They’re almost distracting enough to avoid you noticing his fidgeting hands.

“I’m listening.” You lean back slightly in your seat. You’d played nice with Carmen all your life, given him every chance to return it. Now it was his turn to try.

"Right." Of course he has to talk. It's his fault, isn't it? He's the one who snapped-- why did he even imply you'd have to explain yourself? He runs a hand through his hair, and there he goes again, eyes darting across the café to find something to focus on as he sought out the right words. You'd almost find it endearing, how bad he is at this, if it wasn't so important to you.

"You don't do this often, do you?"

"What, like-- meeting up for coffee?"

"Talking about stuff. Your feelings and shit." You hid your slightly amused smile behind your coffee cup before taking a small sip.

"Oh. Yeah, no, I-- I don't. Not until recently." He takes a deep breath. Just like they had told him to. “I’ve been going to this therapy thing my sister recommended. S’not much, but… It’s a start. Talked about the restaurant, my brother—“

“Your brother?” Your eyebrows raise slightly.

“Yeah, my— my brother. Mikey.” He looks a bit surprised. He’s come to the shattering realization that he’s never told you anything about his personal life, ever. You don’t even know about one of the most important people in his life, his main drive. You’ve known each other for so long yet you know so little. “I never told you about him?”

“You never told me anything.” You answer curtly. “We never really… Talked, you know?”

“Yeah— yeah, you’re right. I just thought… Wow.” He smiles, more out of shock than anything. He feels so stupid. How immature is it to be feuding this much with a person who doesn’t know anything about you?

“I guess I really don’t know much about you either.” His fingers rake through his messy curls again. “Makes me feel like even more of an idiot for going off on you like that. Like I had you all figured out.”

“Yeah, that was uh... That was something." The mood shifts a little. His smile fades as soon as he sees the melancholy in your eyes return. Of course it wouldn't be that easy for you to forgive him, to feel better about all this. "You know, I never knew you thought of me like that." A small smile graces your features. Somehow it's sadder than the expression you had before.

"I mean, I knew you didn't like me. I was pretty much at peace with the fact that you were never going to like me, either. But I never thought you hated me that much." You sniffle, trying your hardest to blink away any oncoming tears. "Like your life, your entire career, would have been easier without me there at all."

His heart aches at the sight of you, all teary eyed and trying to be brave. You're much braver than him. Sadness is a much harder thing to express than anger. He's starting to figure that out more and more.

"I don't hate you." He starts. He sees the confusion contort your features, and he knows he's not making any sense. "I mean I did-- I did hate you. Or, maybe not you, just... The fucked up idea I had of you. And-- and that was on me, that was my own fault." He feels an urge to touch you; to rub your back, hold your hand, anything to comfort you. It's tearing him apart to know that he's the cause of all this.

"But why?" A single tear rolls down your cheek, leaving a wet streak on your skin in its wake. "Why did you think that about me? I-- I get that we had a little rivalry going but jesus Carmen, did you really think I spent my whole culinary school career trying to outdo you?"

"To be honest... Yeah." He feels ashamed. So ashamed. He hopes the waitress doesn't walk by and listen to any of this, see you crying, and make you feel even worse. "Cooking was always just... My thing. If I was good for anything, it would be that. So seeing you do so well at something I'd started to base my whole existence around, it made me jealous, so fucking jealous." He meets your eyes, even if it's hard. You have to know he's being sincere.

"And it's-- it's unfair, it's so unfair to you, I know, and I'm really fuckin' sorry. I'm trying to work on myself, on everything, and I hope I can prove that to you." His face has that red tint you recognize whenever he's nervous or stressed. You can tell this is taking a lot from him.

"Is that really all? You were just jealous?" Your voice is quieter, fragile almost.

"I don't know. I wanna think it's that simple but I really don't know. There's a lot I don't understand about me, or you, or us. My mind doesn't know how to react when I see you anymore I think, now that things are different." He takes a deep breath, like saying that took a physical toll on him. "You have this-- this weird effect on me, and I don't know how to cope with it. I think it was just easier to be mad at you than to be anything else."

Anger is easier to express than sadness. The easiest out of all emotions, actually. Sometimes a little too easy.

You look to the side, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand. You huff out something close to a laugh, and though he’s caught off guard by it, he doesn’t mind it. Even if you’re laughing at him, at least that means you’re not crying.

“You’ve got issues Berzatto. You know that?”

“Yeah. I’ve been told.” He smiles, and it’s heartfelt this time. Not nervous, or sad, or awkward. He’s happy to see you a little more at ease.

“It’s just really crazy to me.” You trace your finger over the edge of your coffee cup as you talk. “I spent so much time in culinary school looking up to you. And then I find out you were always just trying to keep up with me.”

Carmen’s eyebrows raise a little at your words. “Looked up to me?”

“Yeah, like… Your drive, your passion, it’s so impressive. Always looking to improve, to do better, it just— it inspired me to do better too. As cheesy as that may sound.” You smiled. “S’why I opened up in Chicago, you know.”

“Really? Huh.” He leaned back in his seat.

“Because I wanted to work with you. Or for you. Either would have been fine with me.” You sigh. “I like owning my own place, but… I don’t know, for some reason I always imagined us working together.” You smiled. “Is that stupid?”

“No,” he replied quickly, “no not at all, I— I totally get that.” He’s quiet for a few seconds, and you can practically hear the gears turning in his head when he stares at you for a moment.

“I mean you’re a remarkable chef, really, like— insanely remarkable, and, well, we’re revamping the restaurant completely right now. We need people— more people, new people, and so, I was wondering— or I’ve been thinking—“ He stops himself from losing his breath from all his rambling, before he freaks you out even more than he already has.

“I want you to come work for us at the Bear.” He puts his hands together, as if he’s about to beg. “Please.”

You can almost hear yourself blinking out of confusion. There’s suddenly no more loud silences, no, the café seems dead quiet for once. All you can do is stare at him, wait for a laugh, because clearly this was a joke right? There’s no way Carmen Berzatto, chef supreme, arch nemesis of yours, would want you anywhere near him, let alone work in his own establishment.

“I’m sorry?”

He feels stupid already. You had every reason to say no. He’d been the biggest asshole in the world to you, he’d kept his distance all his life, and now he expects you to be his employee. Or, well, colleague, more so.

“I’m uh— we’re redoing the restaurant entirely. New equipment, new staff, new everything.” He swallows; the thought of everything that needed to be done arises for a moment. “We need people that work hard, who know what they’re doing and who are passionate about it. And I barely know anyone who’s better at what you do than yourself.” He pauses, waiting for you to stop him. But you don’t.

“So I’m asking if you’d work for me. With me. It won’t be anything like old days, if anything I— I need to learn from you.” He scoffs at himself. “Could take a thing or two about how to communicate with my staff.”

You smile, and he genuinely thinks you’re about to start laughing at him. You chuckle, but it’s not mean, it’s honest. Cute.

“You know, you have great timing.” You grin.

“I do?” the smile on his face reflects the hope he feels.

“One of my chefs wants to take over the place for me. Well, has been wanting to. I haven’t had an exact reason to say yes to her yet.” You shrugged. “Guess I do now.”

“…Is that you saying yes?”

“It’s definitely not me saying no.” Your eyes meet his, and there’s something between you both that’s different now. It’s not like there’s a switch that’s been flipped. It‘s more like this conversation was the turning page of a new chapter.

“I’ll think about it. I want to see it first. Maybe talk to some of your staff.” Carmen’s chest strains a little when he thinks about you interacting with Richie. Then he’s reassured when he thinks about you interacting with Sydney or Marcus. You’d fit in well, you have great feeling for people.

“Yeah— yeah, I get that. Totally. I can arrange that. Uhm, we’re renovating right now, actually, it’s all really kinda wild, but if you wanna stop by, chat with Syd, or Nat, or talk about the plans, let me know. I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.” He’s not lying, you seem like you’d get along well with them. Especially Sydney. Your thinking processes are very similar to each other. And to his.

Carmen gets the bill, even though you try to pay for it.

“It’s just a coffee, just let me get this one.”

You let him have this one, simply because you can’t argue with him after the conversation you just had. You’re in too good of a mood after his proposition too.

He walks you to your car, hands in his pockets when you reach it. It’s cold outside, and his breath comes out in visible puffs of air. His nose is a little red, but you think it looks cute.

“Thanks for coming, by the way,” he starts, “I know you didn’t have to. Like— after how I acted to you. But— But I really do appreciate that you’re givin' me a chance here.” He’d always been confused about how positive and faithful you were in people. He never thought he’d be grateful for those exact features too.

“No worries, I… I had a good time. I’m glad we talked.” The keys jingle as you fidget with them. Among them is a keychain in the shape of a cherry, he recognizes it. It reminds him of how little you’ve both changed. And how much.

“Yeah.” He sighs. Relieved, almost. “Me too. But I’ll let you leave, might wanna tell your chef the good news.”

“Good news?” You quirk an eyebrow.

“That you’re selling them the business.”

“I haven’t decided yet, Carm.” You scoff. But he can tell you have, you look too excited about it all to not have your mind made up yet. It excites him too. Scares him a bit as well, but what’s a new chapter without a bit of tension?

“Right. Sorry.” He huffs. “Just text me when you wanna head over to see the place. It’s uh… It’s a work in progress, but it’s getting somewhere.”

“I believe you. I’m looking forward to it.” You lean back against your car a little.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“See y’around?” You unlock it and walk up to the driver’s side.

“Course. Uh, don’t be a stranger.”

You grin, leaning down to get into the vehicle. “Never with you, Berzatto.”

He watches you drive off, standing in the cold for far longer than any sensible person has any business standing there. But he feels good. He feels warm.

He thinks about what you said to him before you left. You were right, you were never a stranger to him. You were always like a constant in his life; whether you were actually present or not. And even if he didn’t know that much about you, which he was insistent on changing, you were never a stranger.

Never with him.

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