#been rattling around in my brain for a few hours

[altschmerzes]

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: ALL THE ENERGY OF NOT TRYING TO STAND BETWEEN YOUR FATHER AND THE GRAVE

STOP TRYING TO GET HIM ON ONE OF THOSE MINDFULNESS APPS

IF HE WANTED TO TAKE YOUR SUGGESTIONS HE WOULD HAVE TAKEN THEM ALREADY

IT’S TOO LATE FOR THE BENEFITS OF BRAIN PLASTICITY

“LET YOUR FATHER DIE” ENERGY DRINK HAS ALL THE PEACEFUL RESIGNATION OF TÉA LEONI STANDING WITH HER FATHER ON THE BEACH AT THE END OF DEEP IMPACT

MUCH LIKE JODIE FOSTER DISCOVERS AT THE END OF CONTACT, YOUR DAD IS A HOLOGRAM CREATED BY ALIENS TO CREATE THE ILLUSION OF FAMILIARITY

TIRED OF TASTING YOUR DAD’S MEAT AT FEASTS TO CHECK FOR POISON? WITH “LET YOUR FATHER DIE” ENERGY DRINK, YOU DON’T HAVE TO!

“LET YOUR FATHER DIE” ENERGY DRINK IS NOT MEANT TO BE TAKEN LITERALLY

YOURS MIGHT BE FINE

(HE ISN’T)

(YOU KNOW HE ISN’T)

(YOU’VE ALWAYS KNOWN HE ISN’T)

BUT HE MIGHT BE

IT HAPPENS

WE HEARD ABOUT IT ONE TIME

IN SWEDEN

STOP DRINKING FROM YOUR FATHER’S CUP TO MAKE SURE IT’S SAFE FOR HIM TO DRINK

LET HIM FIGURE IT OUT

ALL THE SMOOTH, REGULATED ENERGY THAT COMES FROM NOT TRYING TO OLIVIA POPE YOUR FATHER’S WHOLE THING

HE PROBABLY SOLVED HIS OWN PROBLEMS BEFORE YOU WERE BORN SO WHY NOT TAKE A NAP

WITH “LET YOUR DAD DIE” ENERGY DRINK YOU’LL FINALLY HAVE THE ENERGY YOU NEED TO FALL ASLEEP INSTEAD OF WAITING TO PASS OUT

LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK, AVAILABLE NOW!

LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK: STOP SCROLLING INSTAGRAM AT 3AM, HE DIDN’T LEAVE ANY MESSAGES FOR YOU THERE!

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: DRINK FROM YOUR OWN CUP AT LEAST

STOP TELLING YOUR DAD YOU LOVE HIM MORE THAN SALT. START ALLOWING YOUR AVARICIOUS SISTERS GONERIL AND REGAN TO DETHRONE HIM.

LEAR KNEW WHAT CORDELIA MEANT THE WHOLE TIME AND SO DOES YOURS

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: BECAUSE YOU DON’T WANT TO SING ALONE LIKE BIRDS ‘I TH’ CAGE, ASKING ONE ANOTHER BLESSING AND KNEELING DOWN, LIVING AND PRAYING AND LAUGHING AT BUTTERFLIES WITH HIM

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: BECAUSE YOUR BLOODLINE ENDS WITH YOU!!

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: BECAUSE YOUR DAD THINKS A HAPPY ENDING IS ONE WHERE YOU LIVE FOREVER IN A CABINET WITH HIM AND A BIRD AND THAT’S A BAD IDEA FOR YOU

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: THAT DOESN’T MEAN YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO MAKE IT HAPPEN

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: AGAIN, NOT LITERALLY!

IT’S JUST GOING TO HAPPEN SOMEDAY AND YOU SHOULD HUSBAND YOUR STRENGTH

SORRY, FATHER YOUR STRENGTH

SORRY, MOTHER YOUR FATHER

THE BUGS HAVE BEEN FIXED AND LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK APOLOGIZES FOR ANY DISTRESS OUR MOST RECENT MESSAGES MAY HAVE CAUSED

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: WHEN WE SAY DAD WE MEAN THE CONCEPT

SORT OF

HOWEVER YOU HEAR IT

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK IS FULL OF NATURALLY RESTORATIVE INGREDIENTS, LIKE SETTING HIS TEXTS TO “DO NOT DISTURB” AND GREEN TEA EXTRACT

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: ONE CAN IS THE EQUIVALENT OF THREE YEARS OF AL-ANON MEETINGS!

NONE OF THE JITTERS THAT COME FROM MANAGING THE DOCTOR’S APPOINTMENTS HE DOESN’T GO TO ANYWAY

UNSEE THAT EMAIL YOU ACCIDENTALLY SAW WHEN YOU WERE FIFTEEN: IT NEVER HAPPENED!

“LET YOUR DAD DIE” ENERGY DRINK HAS THE SAME EFFECTS ON COGNITIVE PERFORMANCE AS A CUP OF MEDIUM-ROAST LOW-ACID COFFEE OR NOT APOLOGIZING FOR SOMETHING HE SAID TO SOMEONE ELSE AFTER HE’S OUT OF EARSHOT AND CAN’T GET MAD AT YOU FOR APOLOGIZING FOR SOMETHING HE ISN’T SORRY HE SAID

DADS LOVE IT: LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK

*“LET YOUR DAD DIE” ENERGY DRINK HAS NOT STUDIED DAD RESPONSES TO LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK BECAUSE IT WOULDN’T CHANGE OUR MARKETING STRATEGIES OR OUR RECIPE ANYWAYS

PLUS WE’RE GOING TO HEAR WHAT HE SAID THROUGH OUR OLDER SISTER ANYWAYS

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: HE’S NOT ACTUALLY OKAY TO DRIVE

DRIVING IS ACTUALLY NEVER OKAY BUT ESPECIALLY THE WAY HE DOES IT

YOUR FATHER’S COMMITMENT TO DRIVING IS INFORMALLY REFERRED TO AROUND OUR OFFICES AS “THE REAL DEATH DRIVE” BY THE WAY

LYDD: HE KNOWS LOTS OF OTHER PEOPLE WHO HAVE GOTTEN THAT FELLOWSHIP

LYDD: YOUR FATHER KNOWS A LOT OF PEOPLE

YOUR FATHER HAS A LOT OF FRIENDS

YOUR FATHER HAS AN ENTIRE TEAM OF ALLIES, CRONIES, AND UNDERBUTLERS TO SOLVE HIS PROBLEMS FOR HIM

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK IS BROUGHT TO YOU BY A GENEROUS DONATION FROM THE MIKAELA PETERSON FOUNDATION

LET YOUR DAD DIE: IT’S FINE

IT’S FINE

IT’S WHAT HE DID TO HIS DAD

IT’S WHAT HE WOULD DO FOR YOU

WHO FIRED THAT SHOT AT HIS COUNTRY HOUSE DURING A WEEKEND SHOOTING PARTY? NOT YOUR PROBLEM ANYMORE, BOYO

THEY HAVE DETECTIVES FOR THAT

DETECTIVES ARE ON YOUR FATHER’S TAIL EVEN AS WE SPEAK

THE DETECTIVES TOLD US TO TELL YOU THEY SAID “DON’T CROWD ME”

LET SOMEONE ELSE PUT YOUR PARANOIA TO GOOD USE

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK IS COMMITTED TO HELPING COLLEGE STUDENTS, CORPORATE EXECUTIVES, AND PROFESSIONAL ATHLETES ESTABLISH THE SENSE OF FREEDOM THAT CAN ONLY COME FROM ACCEPTING YOUR FATHER’S MORTALITY AND THE LIMITS OF YOUR OWN INTERVENTION

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK IS CONTRAINDICATED WITH ALCOHOL….WINK

WE CANNOT RECOMMEND WINK THAT YOU MIX WINK LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK WINK WITH ALCOHOL WINK

BUT OF COURSE WE CAN’T TELL YOU WHAT TO DO

WE’RE NOT YOUR MOM OR ANYTHING

TIRED OF BEING “A LITTLE OVER-SENSITIVE”? TRY LYDD ENERGY DRINK!

TIRED OF “REMEMBERING THINGS”? TRY OUR NEW DRAGONFRUIT EDITION, “I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU’RE TALKING ABOUT”

ARE YOU SURE YOUR BROTHER WOULDN’T LIKE TO TRY BEING THE OVER-SENSITIVE ONE FOR A CHANGE? TRY LYDD ENERGY DRINK FOR LASTING EFFECTS!

FEEL AS WELL-RESTED AND ENERGIZED AS YOUR FATHER’S MOTHER DOES: SHE DOESN’T REMEMBER THAT EITHER

SHE’S NOT WORRIED ABOUT A GODDAMN THING WE HERE AT LYDD CAN TELL YOU THAT MUCH

SHE’S GOT A PLAN AND SHE HAS NEVER SECOND-GUESSED ANYTHING THAT YOUR FATHER HAS DONE  

HE’S WHAT MADE HER A MOTHER

YOU’RE JUST SOME PUNK KID

YOU’RE JUST SOME FUCKING NOBODY. WHO THE HELL ARE YOU? WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH MY SON’S GRAVE?

OUR ETHICALLY SOURCED PASSIONFRUIT FLAVOR INCLUDES GUARANINE, GINKGO, AND ZERO CHANCE OF TAKING A BULLET FOR YOUR FATHER

IT’S AN ACQUIRED TASTE

BUT YOU PROBABLY ALREADY HAVE IT

YOU’VE ALREADY INHERITED A LOT OF THINGS.

NO GODS, NO MASTERS, JUST A REFRESHING BURST OF FRESH CITRUS FLAVOR. LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK

LET YOUR DAD DIE ENERGY DRINK: YOU NEVER REALLY HAD A CHOICE, BUT WE WILL LET YOU CHOOSE BETWEEN ORANGINA, ACAI BURST, AND FRUTTA DI BOSCO IF IT MAKES YOU FEEL BETTER

BUT DON’T GET ANY BRIGHT IDEAS ABOUT TRYING TO DO IT YOURSELF. HE’LL SEE IT COMING. YOU’RE ONLY ALIVE AND IN THIS WORLD BECAUSE HE ANTICIPATED YOU. YOUR DAD’S DEATH BELONGS TO SOMEONE HIS OWN SIZE AND YOU’RE NEVER GOING TO MAKE WEIGHT

JUST LET HIM GO INTO THAT GOOD NIGHT WHENEVER THE TIME COMES

WE HEAR IT’S ACTUALLY PRETTY GENTLE

- “Let Your Dad Die Energy Drink” Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan

[the-californicationist]

i did send the same thing to another writer i enjoy bc i love different takes on things, but my little dumpster brain has had one thought in the last 24 hours - imagine confiding in your captain that you'd like to have a baby bc biological clock or whatever, and being in the field really puts a damper on your sex life, so that makes it difficult. but the 141 will do anything for one of their own, so if that means they're running trains and taking turns on you DAILY until it takes (and probably even after 👀), then so be it.

lol... you lit a fuckin' fire with this ask, my friend. hot!!

"The Window" (141/Reader)

You awoke to the soft tinkling noise of his belt and zipper, rattling at the edge of your bed. Your captain, John Price, was answering his call of duty, and within moments, you knew he would slip his fat, flaccid cock between your legs and allow your warmth to make him harden within you. He preferred it this way. First, he would rub you with it, heavy and smooth, smearing your wetness all over his skin. Then, with a singular talent, he would somehow stuff his soft, lolling head into your hole, feeding himself into you gently, letting your body take him in on its own as your pussy pulsed for him, and he would rub your clit absent-mindedly, comforting himself with your swollen lips, sighing raggedly as you covered him up. Once he was hard - and fuck, he was impossibly hard - he would fuck you through your blinding pleasure, his girth giving you burst after burst of hot, searing bliss.  

He wasn’t your boyfriend - none of them were - but the members of your task force, the 141, had all agreed to be the father of your child. It had started when Captain Price first saw your appointment on the team calendar. You’d meant to post it privately, but you had failed to do so. He came to you right away, his face full of worry,

“Wha’s goin’ on, Spar? Goin’ to the main base hospital… Wha’s all this about?”

So, you’d told him, a little bashfully, that you were trying to get pregnant. You’d be turning 28 this fall, and you wanted to be a mom, sooner rather than later. Every few weeks, you were shipped off to some too-cold or too-hot locale, getting shot at and flash-banged. There wasn’t really time to find a date, much less convince them that you would make a good mother. The last time you tried to use Tinder, one guy had called you ‘Rambo’ and blocked you, so it wasn’t going well. 

“I’ll go with you, little bird. Sounds important.”

“You don’t need to do that, Captain. I’m sure I can take out a loan for it…” You thought out loud, remembering the pamphlet and all of its cost breakdowns for IVF treatments.

“A loan? Last time I checked, love, it was free,” he chuckled. 

“Free when you have someone who’d be willing to give it to you, sir,” you challenged him with your confidence, trying not to be ashamed, even of your ‘Rambo’ nickname. 

“Sparrow,” he raised his voice and nearly shouted your callsign incredulously in the small mess hall where he’d found you, “There’s no bloody way you don’t have someone willing.” 

“Wha’s goin’ on, Cap?” Gaz poked his head in behind the door. 

“Nothing,” you tried to stop the literal landslide of embarrassment that was happening to you.

“She wants to have a baby,” Price told him, smiling a bit as your cheeks turned pink.

“A baby?” Gaz commented with no small amount of surprise.

“Who wants a baby?” Simon yelled out from the hallway before opening the door wider and scooting around Gaz to join into the conversation. 

“A bairn!?” Soap barged in, slamming the door all the way open and forcing Gaz to tumble into the kitchen. 

So, the whole team knew in a matter of moments, but Price kept his word. He drove you to the hospital for your appointment and asked more questions to the doctor than you did. Unfortunately, he heard all of the strictest rules and took them to heart. No cigarettes, no caffeine, plenty of rest and… plenty of exposure to male ejaculate. 

There had been a meeting, of which you were not a part, between Price and the other men in your task force, and they had come to a conclusion: they would put a baby in you. It was their singular mission. A bit of back and forth had occurred when you found out their plan.

“Is there… we dinnae want to pressure you, lass, but,” Soap looked around at Ghost, Gaz, and Price before settling back on you, “Are there any of us you wouldnae like to be the father? We willnae take offense.”

“No! I’d be happy to have any of you… I mean… But, I don’t want you to feel like you need to do this if you don’t want to,” you could feel the heat of your shame rising in your cheeks, and you knew you were as red as a lobster. You heard a bit of laughter at your comment and feared the worst. But then, Gaz explained,

“I’m afraid all of us very much want to, Sparrow.”

He had even palmed his growing cock for emphasis. 

But, it had to be fair, you decided. There should be a schedule; no favorites. And for the first month, there was. Soap was your Monday, Ghost was Tuesday, Gaz was Thursday, and Price was Friday. But then Price had a meeting and so Soap was Friday, and Price was Saturday. That meant Ghost was Monday. You were in training on Tuesday, so Gaz was Wednesday, but Soap couldn’t do Thursday or Friday because he had to go in for his annual review. So, he joined Gaz on Wednesday, stepping in right after him as if you were a pretty little mailbox and the boys had come to drop off their packages. 

When the weekly schedule fell apart, you hung a big calendar in your quarters, and they’d pencil themselves in. That was fine until you had been shipped out to Aqtabi. You’d tried to keep it up while you were in the field, remembering what day was which, but the truth was that sometimes you had no idea if it was morning or night. Was that the sun or a flare? 

And sometimes it didn’t matter. Something would happen on a mission, and Price would crawl beneath your scratchy woolen sheet, searching for the comfort of your arms, not saying a word, not even asking you if it was alright, but just taking you there in the cold night of the desert, filling you up and keeping his cock sheathed in you, safe and sound. 

And sometimes you needed them, too. Waiting on exfil, huddled together in the pouring rain beneath a sad tarp, you’d crawled into Gaz’s lap, looping your arms around his neck and letting him hold you in a cradle, using his big chest as your pillow. You’d dozed, exhausted, and he’d rubbed himself against you through your clothes, coaxing you to pull down your pants so he could empty himself into your womb, quick and filthy. You remembered how it felt when his come had soaked through your panties as you sat next to him in the helicopter, letting him hold your hand. 

You felt a little guilty that you weren’t exactly hoping for a child during those first few months. You were enjoying their affections, no matter how platonic they may have felt. 

It didn’t stay that way, though. Soap was the worst offender. When he fucked you, he wanted to spend most of his time eating you out, sucking on your clit with his mouth like a hungry dog, soaking himself in your scent and your flavor before finally mounting you, crawling over your body like the hound that he was, dipping his cock into you and beating your core like a drum. He’d stare into your eyes when he could manage it, and he’d slipped up one day and told you he loved you. That you were his girl, his wee bonnie lass, and that he’d raise the bairn with you, even if it was Black like Gaz, tall like Ghost, or had Price’s big nose. It’d be his and yours. He’d be the daddy you wanted him to be, he promised. 

Then, you’d had to deal with Gaz. He’d made dinner reservations at a restaurant near base while he had your legs held up to your chest, helping you wait the twenty suggested minutes for his “lads” to “soak in”. Told you he was just hungry, but he had also happened to buy you a nice dress, and he’d driven you in his sporty little Beamer, bright red and clean as a whistle. He’d fucked you after dinner, sneaking in a double feature, which was expressly against the rules. Told you he couldn’t help himself, and he said he’d been thinking about you all weekend, cock in hand. 

Ghost was like his namesake, haunting you all over the place. He found you in the locker room, and decided to fuck you standing up, sweaty from your sparring match. He’d washed you off in the shower, and he’d taken you in there, too, after coaxing you to make him hard again by sucking him off. Ghost would slink by you in the reference room, stalking you through the bookshelves, and dragging you to the storage closet to fuck you on all fours on the floor, maps and looseleaf pamphlets about Russian spy camps under your rosy red knees. He got vocal that night, cramped with his huge body in that tiny closet, telling you what a good girl you were for him, how you fit his fuckin’ cock so perfect, how he’d never want anyone else, how it felt so good to fill your body up with his load. 

Then, there was your captain. At first, you weren’t sure he was truly a willing participant. He seemed to avoid you unless he was on the schedule. He didn’t cut in line, and if you were on the couch or in the kitchen with one of the boys, he’d leave you be, smiling at you a bit before grabbing his tea and escaping back to his office. But, then you realized the truth: John Price wanted to put a baby inside of you more than anyone else, and he would go to the ends of the earth to make sure it happened. 

“Hey, little bird,” John’s finger pet the side of your cheek as you woke, feeling him pull down your pink silk panties so he could start to warm you up, “I’m your Sunday.”

“Mm,” you rubbed the sleep out of your eye and opened up your legs for him, giving him full access to your body on instinct at this point, “John, we gave up on the schedule. You can come whenever you want. Or, you can stop.”

“Can’t stop,” he kissed your mouth as he leaned over you, and you tasted peppermint and tobacco mixing together with something heady and lustful, “We’re in the window.”

Ah. The Window. All of the boys talked about The Window and when it was coming up next. They’d all downloaded trackers on their phones, watching you like birds of prey for when you ordered a box of tampons, checking with you to see when you were off the rag. And then, you’d be “in the window” of ovulation. Their best chance at succeeding at this mission. 

They would fuck you at any time of the month, and Soap and Price would even fuck you through your period, having read in some magazine that there was a small chance of success. But, being in The Window was like covering yourself in honey in the middle of a cave in spring and waking up all the bears inside it. Fertile ground, ripe for the taking. 

“Mm, fuck,” you keened. John had two fingers in you now, pressing on your soft spots and stretching your hole. You wrapped a hand around his neck and pulled him in for another kiss, which he moaned into. 

“Feel good, Spar? You want to make me hard, pretty bird?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, looking up at him with desperate eyes, “Yeah, I do. Please, John…”

 He slipped himself in, half-hard already, and you felt the body of it slide into your core. It was soft, and you liked to squeeze it with your muscles, feeling him writhe inside of you when you did, reveling in his pleasure. He sat back on his heels to let you play with him fully, watching you grind your hips on him as he massaged your clit to its full, swollen height. He was in no rush, and he spoke to you casually. 

“Has Kyle been in this weekend?”

“No, it was Soap,” you tried to remember, “And then Ghost, and then Soap again.”

Price chuckled warmly,

“That boy wants a baby so badly.”

You smiled with him, agreeing, 

“He does. He interrupted Gaz on Thursday and asked him when he’d be done!” 

Price laughed with you then, his eyes gleaming and crinkling at the edges,

“Oh, Christ. He’d be a good one. They’d all be good.”

You watched his mood shift. There was something solemn about it, and you wanted to chase it away. You rubbed your hand along his furry belly, locking your ankles around his hips and shamelessly rocking your hips to fit more of him into you. You confessed, 

“You’d be good.”

His eyes found yours again and he stilled, wondering out loud,

“D’you think so, Sparrow?”

“I know so.”

“Can I tell you a secret, little bird?” He whispered, lowering himself into position and stuffing his hard length even deeper inside of you, making you worry just a bit if he could hurt you with that thing. 

You nodded, kissing his huge Adam’s apple in his throat and nuzzling through his beard. He told you the whole truth as he pounded himself into you without mercy, 

“Sometimes, I wish he would be mine. I wish…” He almost stopped, but he kept going, like a raft in the stream, too caught in the current to go back to the shore, “I wish you could be mine, and then I could rub lotion on your belly when you got big. And I could cook for you when you got tired, and I could read to you, even when he was still inside of you, and I know he could hear my voice. I wish, sometimes, that when it happens, that I’d be the first to know. That you’d tell me first, because you knew it was mine, because you’d want him to be mine.”

You were stunned, and you were coming, and the two were very separate events. As your pussy pulsed and tried to milk him of his come, making you dizzy and almost sick with pleasure, you were shocked by his admission. You grabbed his face and made him look you in your eyes,

“John…” You panted, coming down from your first high of many with Price, “I had no idea you felt that way.”

“I didn’t either,” he smiled, but the corners didn’t reach his eyes. 

When he fucked you this morning, you had no idea how good it could feel, but he showed you. He rutted into you, desperately, like some sort of beast, unable to stop himself. It was as if he would fuck himself bloody in you if he had to, and you wanted to take him as best you could. You felt him finally start to come, and he plugged you up with his thickness, shoving himself as deep as he would go, sealing you off and keeping you warm and elevated. 

He kept his cock in you, gasping for breath and petting the hair out of your face. He kissed you, cheeks and chin and neck, all the way down to your breasts where he suckled from your nipples, almost dreamlike in the way he was touching you, fully covered in you the entire time. 

“Sleep, birdie,” he nuzzled your neck and continued to lave his tongue over your breasts, “I’ll wake you when I’m hard again.”

Part 2

[pokechbi]

"I told you not to cum...Didn't I, schatz?"

just a random smut splurge that was on my mind ALL day

(konig x fem reader!)

NSFW !!! MDNI

WC: 1.1k

Fem anatomy used

Your hips spasm against his mouth, your thighs shaking violently as he pumped and curled a thick finger into your sopping pussy, sucking and flicking your clit relentlessly with his tongue. You let yourself in this predicament, sacrificing yourself just for a few seconds of pleasure, letting your orgasm overtake your body when he had specifically ordered you not to. Rookie mistake.

"Was it worth it, du kleine Schlampe?" (you little slut). He lifts from between the lips of your cunt, his lips and jaw soaked with your juices. He'd been down there for an hour and counting, just torturing you. Holding your hips down with his strong arm, the ropes of muscles under his skin flexing every time you moved. He'd quickly slap your clit with an open palm every time you pushed his head away, sending a jolt of electricity through your every nerve and paralyzing you, rendering your fights useless. The stubble on his jaw had rubbed your inner thighs raw, causing the skin to redden and puff with irritation. He looked up at you, eyes gleaming with dominance and power over you. He was loving this. And it sickened you. The thought of having another orgasm made you want to puke, cry, scream, pass out. Your body was spent, sweating heavily and feeling the muscles in your thighs and core burn with overexertion.

"Are you ready to apologize, meine liebe?" He asks, rising to your breasts. His searing breath graze your nipples. They were sore and raw, from him reaching his hand up and pinching the little buds between his fingers while he licked your slit relentlessly. In that moment, your brain was fuzzy, swirling from the multiple orgasms that rattled your soul. "B-but I couldn't hold i-ah!" You yelped as he slammed two of his thick fingers into you, resulting in a stomach-turning squelch that was music to his ears.

"Oh, schatz. Wrong answer. You wanted to cum so bad before, hm? Now I will make you cum until you can't fucking see straight" He grunted, his anger coming from the deep parts of his soul. He began slapping at your clit with an open palm, over and over, the pain causing a distinctive warmth to bubble in your core as your hips jerked with every slap. Tears ran down your cheeks, leaving a stain in their wakes as you fight the oncoming orgasm. You yell out in delicious pain as he pushes his cock into you, not giving you a second to adjust before pounding straight into your cervix. You see red when your eyes flutter closed, slurring and murmuring words from your lips.

"Scheiße, mein lieber, you feel so good. So swollen and wet, milking my fucking cum right out of me." (shit, my dear). He breathes, a throaty chuckle searing the skin of your ear. He grabs your knees, pushing them against your breasts as he pumps deeper into you, your walls swollen and tighter from his viscous, barbarian cock rubbing against them on and off for an hour and some time now. You hated that it felt good. You were on the brink of unconsciousness, but couldn't let go of the feeling of his swollen, throbbing dick meeting resistance against your bulgy, enticing walls. You let out a lazy moan, the sounds coming from you not recognizable to your usual timid whimpers and groans. You gripped the sheets beside you, Konig's hips not letting up as you came close to another orgasm. Your mouth hung open in silence, your voice too raspy and broken to moan anymore. He pressed his forehead against yours, slowing his pace and dragging the throbbing veins on his dick against every single nerve in your cunt. Your core contracts and spasms, another orgasm overtaking your very soul. You whimper quietly, not being able to make a noise as he presses his weight into your thighs, smushing your knees against your tits.

"Verdammter, schatz. Feels so good when your sweet little hole flutters around me like that, yes?" He says, a gentler tone in his voice giving you the pretense that he'll let up on you. Your eyes roll into the back of your head, your lashes fluttering closed and open as you lay limply under him. You had no strength to even grip the sheets anymore, fighting to keep your eyes open as he began to cum himself. "Not gonna ask you again, love. Apologize." He slows his pace, looking down at you as you part your lips to speak.

" 'm sorry daddy. didn't mean 't cum when you..." You sigh heavily, your breath struggling to catch up with your heart. You didn't know if your body was capable of handling another orgasm, and you didn't want to find out. Konig was a big man, and he didn't even look close to tired as he hovered over you, a smug look on his handsome face.

"told me not to. 'm so sorry daddy." You cry, the tears falling down your face, onto the pillow below you. He leans down to your lips, planting a soft kiss on them. He peels the hair from your forehead, slick with sweat. "Such a good girl, schatz." He whispers, pulling out from you, the pressure in your core leaving as you lie there, your head spinning, thighs shaking. He leans between your thighs, pressing a soft kiss onto your swollen clit.

He stands up, smiling down at you as you sniffle. "Let me run my pretty girl a warm bath, yeah?" You nod your head lazily, feeling his thumb over your soft, swollen lips, puffy from crying.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

You sit between Konig's legs in the bath, your back to his chest as he scrubs your skin with your loofah. "I'm sorry, my darling. Look at you, can barely stay awake." You smile lazily, your eyes fluttering closed as the warmth of the bath and his skin caress your naked form. He wraps his arms around you, kissing your neck softly. You rest your head on his chest, looking up at him through your lashes, half lidded with fatigue, and pure, raw love for the man who had just brutalized your very soul.

"I told you not to cum. Didn't I, schatz?"

[barcaatthemoon]

balancing act || barcelona x teen!reader ||

you struggle to find balance between school and playing for barcelona, and your teammates try to help you.

you were on the verge of tearing your hair out as you stared at the notebook in front of you. it was one of the last games of the season, and you were at the front of the bus studying for your finals. your parents had been on your ass since your last test had come back with a 76. that was better than most of your class, but your parents didn't care.

they wanted you to have something to fall back on, insistent that football wouldn't be there forever. you didn't want to believe them, you couldn't. they wanted you to go away to university and put all of the football stuff behind you within the next few years. it was one thing to do it while you were young, but they didn't see it as a full fledged career.

you hated hearing them try to convince you to look into other options. your team was fully supportive of what you wanted to do. they saw the way that you worked hard, not just relying on your talent. there was no question that you'd be a staple of barcelona football for years to come, possibly even decades. there were already news outlets calling you the future alexia putellas.

"chica, it is so boring in the back of the bus without you," mapi whined. she dropped into the seat next to you suddenly. you usually hated it whenever mapi interrupted your work, but now, she was a welcome distraction. you weren't going to understand your math any more when all of the numbers blended together. "what the hell is that?"

"calculus," you answered plainly. mapi pulled a face as she pushed it away from you, nearly knocking it onto the floor. she put her arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards her. mapi wouldn't be playing today, but she was so excited to get to come along after having had to stay behind for the past couple of games. "what are you doing up here? i thought alexia banished you away from me."

"oh, keira and tana thought that you looked like you needed a break. nothing helps clear the mind better than some quality mapi time!" mapi exclaimed. she rattled off about a million games that the two of you could play for her allotted half hour with you, but all you wanted to do was take a little nap. fortunately for you, mapi had great shoulders to rest against.

it barely took any time for you to fall asleep with mapi. you had more studying to do, but mapi shooed alexia away when she came up to remind you. alexia had a tendency to push, and if it wasn't for mapi, you definitely would have broken down much sooner than you actually did. the pressure from everything had been building up for a while, and everybody was waiting for you to blow up.

the only person who didn't seem to notice was alexia. she kept pushing and pushing, despite the warning from everybody else about pressure. alexia thrived under pressure, and you were so much like her that she assumed you did too. she failed to notice the way that your shoulders had begun to sag as you tried to go through the everyday motions of living.

…

"hola nena," sandra greeted as she sat down next to you. it was one of her last practices. you were definitely one of the saddest to see her go. she had been a staple in your life long before you had joined barcelona. the woman had lived on your street for as long as you could remember, having quickly become a family friend.

"hola sandy." your finals hadn't gone the way that you were hoping they would, so you had to do a couple of the optional end of the year assignments to make it up. you had been working on the last one whenever she walked over.

"you know that is important to rest your brain as well as your body," sandra said. she placed her hand on your shoulder, squeezing gently to get you to look at her. you glanced up from your paper, and sandra felt her heart break a little at how exhausted you looked. "what are you working on?"

"it is my physics. and no, you're not allowed to help. after the disaster that was my study session with alexia and patri, none of the team is allowed to help," you told her. sandra laughed a little. she had heard all about that, alexia complaining that the school work these days was far too difficult for anybody to reasonably understand.

"don't worry, i wouldn't even know where to start if i did want to help you," sandra joked. "i just wanted to check on you. you've been working very hard, and i know that it can get tiring."

"i'm fine. it's what i have to do. i keep my grades up, i get to play. that's the deal." sandra frowned at the almost robotic way you repeated the words that your parents, alexia, and the coaches had been drilling into you. "i can't rely on football forever. one day, i'll have to do someting else, right?"

"what would you want to do if you couldn't play football?" sandra asked you. that wasn't a question that anybody had ever asked you. your parents were insistent that you'd have to have a good career after football to take care of your family, and alexia talked to you like football was always going to be all there was. nobody had ever stopped to ask what you wanted to do, so you never thought about it.

"well, i don't really know," you admitted.

"that's perfectly fine, you're young. just don't put too much thought into what everybody else wants for you," sandra reminded you. she pressed a kiss to the top of your head as she got up to leave you alone. you let her words echo around in your head. it was a good thing to remember, even if it would be hard to undo the years of people pleasing you had grown accustomed to.

…

barcelona was full of motherly figures. sometimes, you found it to be a bit overbearing, but most of them knew when to back off. they had all sort of been alternating trying to check on you. usually, you were mature enough to realize that there had to be a reason for them to be so overbearing, but with the added stress of everything, you hadn't.

marta was one of your favorites. the woman had immediately taken you under her wing whenever you came up from the academy. she was one of the players that you looked up to the most. she had played at barcelona since you could remember, truly a club legend. it was surreal sometimes knowing that she was cheering you on.

whenever you had sprinted off after blowing up at marta's girlfriend, caroline, you had been terrified. marta had every reason to be mad at you. hell, you were pretty mad at yourself for getting so mean with someone who truly just wanted to make sure that you were okay. you swore that you saw caroline's eyes begin to tear up as you raced away from everybody and everything as fast as you could.

"(y/n), what is going on with you?" marta was the last person that you expected to come after you. much to your surprise, marta wasn't outwardly angry with you. if anything, you just saw concern in her eyes as she stared down at you.

"i don't really know," you mumbled. it was true, you had no idea why you were feeling the way that you were. it was normal for teenagers to get a bit angsty and angry, but this felt out of control. no matter what you did or who you spent time with, your mood never seemed to improve. "nothing helps, it's like i can't relax."

"can i tell you what i think?" marta asked cautiously. you trusted her, and knew that she wouldn't say anything if you didn't want her to. there wasn't any harm in hearing her out, so you nodded your head for her to continue. "i think that you're exhausted. it's been pretty obvious to most of us for a while. we've all tried to tell you to slow down, but we can't make that decision for you. have you tried talking to your parents about how you feel?"

"my mom says that i should look into summer classes, but i have to test into them. she's worried that i won't make it in. my finals didn't look good, and she says that she wants what's best for me, but i don't know if i believe that anymore," you said. it felt nice to get it off of your chest.

"would it be okay if some of us talked to her? maybe alexia or irene can lead the charge if you think that it would help. none of us want to see you like this anymore. we miss our little chica, the little ball of happiness and energy." marta caressed your cheek, and you leaned into her hand. you were absolutely exhausted, and it was like a weight was lifted off of your chest for having finally spoken about your feelings.

"thank you, marta." her heart broke a little at how defeated you sounded. she hated that they had let things get this bad. "i should go apologize to caro, she looked upset."

"do not worry about that right now. most of the girls are in the gym. i think that mapi left a blanket in the locker room for you. please just take a nap and then we can all have a big talk later, vale?" marta asked hopefully. she breathed out a sigh of relief when you got up and walked to the locker room. around an hour and a half later, she found you fast asleep on the bench in front of caroline's locker. there was a note with your apology written out on it, as well as one to each of the girls that you had already snapped at that week.

"she's a good kid," alexia said as she glanced down at your body. it was blocking her seat in front of her own locker, but alexia was happy to move around you for the time being. she believed that you needed your rest more than she needed to sit.

"she really is," sandra agreed. "i think that i'm going to take her home for a little while. she can sleep at my house while we talk to her parents."

"will they listen?" irene asked. she had heard a lot of things about your parents, whether from sandra or you in passing that made her question whether or not they really had your best interests at heart.

"if they don't, ingrid and i will take her in," mapi promised. for a moment, there were a couple of skeptical looks thrown around, but alexia shut each of them down quickly. alexia could see the seriousness in mapi's eyes well enough to know that the woman meant it. you were like her little sister, and mapi just wanted to make sure that you were properly taken care of. she already felt like she had failed you for letting you get so stressed.

…

you let out a heavy sigh as you flopped back against your bed. it felt weird to think about. this was your bed in your room in your home. your parents' place had been your home once, but it didn't feel nearly as warm and safe as mapi and ingrid's apartment did. this was a place where your best interests were truly at heart, with your input included.

it was definitely sad leaving your parents behind, but they had been all too happy to sign you away. they didn't want to keep you around if you weren't going to listen to them. somehow, they had tried to turn this all around on you for failing them, but your teammates were quick to shut that down. alexia and the others hadn't even walked out before mapi and ingrid were pulling up to take you away.

"that was the last box chica. i was going to suggest that we take a break because ingrid is on her way back with pizza. do you want some time alone or would you like to watch some tv with me and alexia?" mapi asked you. a part of you wanted to sit and sulk about your parents letting you go, but the part of you that wanted to enjoy your new family won out. you shot off of your bed and followed mapi into the living room.

alexia was curled up with a blanket on the bigger couch in the living room. you and mapi seemed to have the same idea as you rushed over to either side of alexia. the two of you played a little game of tug of war that alexia helped you win. you cuddled up against alexia's side, nearly falling asleep before ingrid got back with pizza. it was definitely different than the environment that you were used to, but it was a heartily welcomed changed.

[badkitty3000]

Physical Fitness

Five has been distant lately, but you discover all he needs is a good workout to get his mind back on you again

Words: 2800

Warnings: Smut, Daddy kink, masturbation

☂️Requests open!☂️

Link to my Number Five Fanfiction Master List

Five doesn’t always give you his utmost attention when he gets home. Some days he’s bursting through the door, pissed off about one thing or another, already in mid-sentence while he rants about the lack of brain cells in whoever was annoying him that day. So, you listen quietly, with an amused expression that you try and hide from him until he calms down enough for you to speak. Usually, all it takes is a soft kiss, a scratch down his back with your nails, and maybe even a stiff drink and he’s back to being putty in your hands.

You don’t care if he stomps around the kitchen, slamming cupboard doors and rattling the glasses inside. Or if he’s so worked up, he can’t sit still and he paces back and forth in the living room while muttering various curse words under his breath. You don’t mind because his anger is never aimed at you, and you are also the only one who can dare to try and calm him down without fear of bodily harm.

No, those things don’t bother you. What does bother you is when he outright ignores you. Those times when he hurries through the door, waves a hasty hello without even glancing up, and shuts himself away in his office. When you try and go to him, knocking hesitantly on the door and cracking it open, he’ll look up momentarily from whatever he’s doing, give you a brief smile, and he’s back at it again. On those days, you’ve learned to just let him be. But it still doesn’t make you any less irritated.

He knows it pisses you off. So, later, when you’ve gone to bed before him and you’re feigning sleep, he’ll slip in behind you and pull you close. He’ll whisper how much he loves you and place kisses along your shoulder and neck until you can’t take it anymore and you’re pushing back against him, having forgotten what you were mad about in the first place.

Those days used to be few and far between, but lately, it’s become a habit. Every day these past two weeks, it’s been one quick peck on the cheek or brief hug, before he’s back at his “research” and ignoring you behind closed doors. You’ve tried talking to him, and he says he’ll make an effort but so far you haven’t seen anything change. You know you have a solid relationship and he would never do anything to intentionally hurt you, but you’re not sure why he’s acting like this. Probably just because he’s an oblivious man wrapped up in his own world, but still, it’s making you worry.

When you are stressed, you usually throw yourself into some kind of physical activity. For a while it was kickboxing, and then it was tennis. Lately, it’s been yoga. It seems to work well for relaxing your mind while also getting a bit of a workout. Tonight you think about going to the studio that you usually frequent, but decide you’re too lazy and you’ll just do your own routine at home.

Five is still not home, but you aren’t going to wait for him. Not like it would matter anyway. You change into your sports bra and black leggings, pull your hair back in a ponytail, and fill up your water bottle. Once you are set up in the living room, with the lights dimmed and relaxing music playing, you begin with a few stretches and then move into some more advanced poses.

Your workout is an hour long and about 30 minutes in you have a nice sheen of sweat covering your body and you’re feeling good. The next half is more about cooling down and resetting your mind. As you are getting into position for the next pose, you hear Five open and close the door to the house, and his footsteps walking towards the room you’re in. You don’t stop what you’re doing. Your time is valuable too, and if he can’t be bothered to stop what he’s doing lately, then why should you?

You sense Five walk into the room just as you are bending over in downward facing dog, your hands on the floor in front of you and your ass in the air. You can’t see his face, but when you look through your legs, you can see that he has stopped in the doorway. Then you watch as his polished black dress shoes cross over one another and he leans into the door frame. When you stand up and look over your shoulder you see him casually watching you with a wolfish grin.

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” he says, gesturing with his hand for you to continue. His shirt sleeves are uncuffed and rolled up his forearms as he crosses his arms over his chest in an air of superiority.

You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling. “Is this what I have to do to get your attention these days? Bend over in tight pants?”

“It doesn’t hurt.”

You huff, turning away from him. “Well, I’m going to finish my workout, so either sit there quietly or go back to your office.”

“Alright, I will,” you hear him say as you get back to your routine.

Assuming he was talking about the latter of your two suggestions, you’re caught off guard when you see him cross over and sit down in one of the armchairs facing you.

“What are you doing?”

He shrugs with a smirk. “Sitting here quietly.”

Not really wanting to indulge him in whatever he’s up to, you turn away again with a loud sigh and move into another pose. There’s a few more minutes of balancing with your butt on display in Five’s direction, but he doesn’t say anything. Then you move onto the ground on your stomach, pushing the top half of your body up with your arms and looking towards the ceiling.

“So, what’s that one called?”

You sigh again. “Cobra. I thought you were supposed to be quiet.”

When you turn around again, your mouth opens in a partial gape as you watch Five in his chair. He is sitting with his legs splayed and his hand on the very prominent bulge in his crotch, eyeing you up like a hungry predator.

“I got your cobra right here, honey,” he says with a smile, and you can see he’s trying not to laugh at his stupid innuendo.

You try to hold in your own giggle but you can’t and you shake your head. “You’re disgusting.”

With another smart-ass grin, he pulls his tie off, discarding it on the floor. “No. Whipping out my dick and jerking off while watching you would be disgusting.”

Before you can make a comment, he starts doing exactly that; unbuckling his belt and unzipping the fly to his pants. He pushes them down far enough to expose his fully hard cock and he gives it a long stroke with his hand, all while keeping his eyes on you.

You should be disgusted. Or annoyed, at the very least. But, fuck, he looks hot sitting there with his sleeves rolled up and his hair flopping onto his forehead; thick cock in his hand. Your breath speeds up just a little and you swallow the pool of saliva that has collected in your mouth.

You clear your throat and flip your ponytail over your shoulder with a sly grin. “Well…you do what you want, I guess. I’m going to finish this workout.”

As you turn away, you decide you’re going to give him as good of a show as you can come up with. You get down on the ground in child’s pose, making sure to spread your knees out wide and push your ass back towards your heels while you splay your arms out in front of you in supplication. You can’t see him, but the thought of what he is doing while watching you is getting you wet and creating a damp spot in the crotch of your pants.

You are slow and deliberate with your movements, and you are back on your hands and knees, only this time you turn to face him. His breathing is louder as he shamelessly works his fist over his cock, running his thumb over the head and jerking his hips up. You can hear the wet slapping noises as his fingers spread the continuous flow of pre-cum over his shaft and he picks up the pace. One side of his mouth turns up as you look at him but he doesn’t slow his movements.

“Fuck, baby, keep going,” he breathes out.

With a breathy laugh you get back to it, pushing your ass up and arching your neck back in a cow pose. It gives him a nice view of your tits in your skimpy sports bra and you hear him let out a quiet grunt while he vigorously pleasures himself. When you flip around and push your hips towards the sky, legs spread wide in a bridge pose, you hear him moan softly.

Turning back over and staying on your hands and knees, you look up at him with wide, pleading eyes and start to crawl slowly towards him. His breath hitches in his throat when you stop between his legs, wetting your plump pink lips with your tongue and gazing up through a fan of dark lashes. Five lets out a long groan when you reach up and place your hand around his, guiding him as he slowly pumps his cock up and down.

“Do you want to fuck me, Daddy?” you ask as sweetly and innocently as possible.

Five lets out a growl through gritted teeth as he thrusts his hips up into the tight fist around his dick.

“Yes. Fuck, yes, I want to fuck you.”

You lean forward and run the flat of your tongue up the underside of his shaft, from base to tip, keeping your eyes on him until he closes his and leans his head back with a whine.

When you pull back, taking your hand with you, he looks back down at you with a deep crease between his dark brows as you start tracing one finger over the top of his thigh and sticking out your bottom lip.

“Five, I want nothing more than to feel your big, thick cock inside of me right now, but here’s the thing. Unless you get that gorgeous, brilliant head out of your ass and start making an effort to acknowledge me around here, I’m afraid that cobra of yours is going to get mighty lonely. Understand?”

Five lets out a disbelieving laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

You pout some more and then back away, shaking your head. “Sorry, baby. I’m very serious.”

Before you let him respond, your back is turned to him again and you’re bending over in an upside-down V shape while running a hand slowly over one ass cheek and down the back of your thigh.

“Fuck…” you hear him moan under his breath and you know you’ve got him. “I’m sorry,” he says, his voice sounding just a tad on the pitiful side. “I will make an effort to pay attention to you more.”

You look at him through your legs again, watching him pout with his dick in his hand, and you smile. “No more slinking into your office the minute you get home and ignoring me?”

“No, I promise. No more.”

You love that he’s practically begging you now, desperate and panting as you tease him with your tight, round ass in front of his face. You press back a little more to accentuate it.

“Alright then, as long as you promise. Now, what was it that you wanted to do to me?”

In a literal flash, Five is behind you, pants falling to the ground and his hands on your hips, tugging you backward. You shriek as he slams his pelvis into your backside, his solid cock pushing between your clothed legs. He yanks you back up to standing with a hand wrapped around your ponytail, his breath hot on your neck as his low and deadly voice buzzes over your skin.

“On your hands and knees. Daddy’s going to fuck you now.”

With a pathetic moan that is partly due to the fact that you can’t help yourself when it comes to his demands, you drop to the floor on your hands and knees. He’s behind you again, tugging at the waistband of your pants and pulling them down your thighs. When you feel his fingers slip in between your legs, your body instinctively reacts by pressing backward onto his hand.

“Five…” you whine, your head hanging down as he pushes his fingers inside you. “Please…”

“What’s wrong sweetheart? I thought you wanted more attention from me.”

You thrust your hips back and forth, fucking his fingers while you moan and gasp like some kind of feral creature. When he pulls his hand away, you feel his wet fingers on your back as he pushes your torso towards the ground. He’s teasing you with his cock, rubbing his leaking head against your clit and through your folds until you can’t stand it anymore.

“Five!” you cry, your face pushed against the floor.

“Let me hear you, darling. Tell me what you want.”

“Fuck me! Please!”

Five doesn’t hesitate for a second, slipping inside of you, pushing all of the way in until his hips are flush with your ass. He grips your waist tightly, holding you there while you squirm against him.

“Fuuuck…” he groans. “You know exactly how Daddy likes it.”

After a strong slap to your ass, Five starts fucking you hard and deep, driving into you with enough force that your body is propelled forward and you know you’re going to have rug burn on your arms and knees. But it doesn’t matter, because everything he is doing is exactly right. Each time he pounds into you, and you feel his thick cock filling you up, you cry out from how good it feels. Your pussy is soaking wet and throbbing with each thrust and you’re not sure how much more you can take.

He's breathing loud and hard behind you, a loud grunt accompanying each snap of his hips, hands firmly clutching your body; holding you steady while he pumps inside of you.

“Oh shit, you’re such a good girl for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he rasps.

With one expert move of his hand around the front of you, his fingers finding your clit and pressing into it hard, you yell out.

“Oh, god, Five! Yesss….oh fffuckk…I…I…oh shh…”

Your orgasm hits you hard and your fingers claw into the carpet beneath you, your knuckles white, and your body spasming uncontrollably against his. You continue moaning his name while he pounds into you a few more times before swearing loudly and exploding inside of you. You both stay like that, the muscles in your bodies tight and locked into position as your cries and whines soften and then subside. Soon, there is nothing but the ragged sound of your heavy breathing, and you feel him start to soften and pull out.

You both collapse onto the floor on your backs, chests heaving and shiny with sweat. When you look over at Five, you smile and then start laughing breathily.

“What’s so funny?” he smirks, turning his head to the side to look at you while he reaches down to pull up his pants.

You begin to pull up your own as you grin back at him. “You. If I had known all I needed to do to get your attention was stick my ass in your face, I would have done that weeks ago.”

Five chuckles and moves over next to you, propping his head up with one hand. He pushes a damp piece of hair off your face. “It definitely doesn’t hurt for you to do that, and I will always pay attention when that luscious ass is in my face. But I should have listened to you before. I’m sorry if you’ve felt ignored.”

“I just like spending time with you. I don’t mind you going off and doing whatever it is you do in there, but maybe sometimes include me too? You don’t have to shut me out of everything.”

He nods. “You’re right. And like I said, I promise I will stop from here on out.”

He leans down and kisses you while you run a hand through his soft hair. “I’m not sure why or how I love you as much as I do,” you sigh.

“Me either. But, god, am I glad you do.”

[hellishjoel]

hi!! if you feel down to write this, could i request something along the lines of: bratty reader teases joel all day, even in front of his friends and in public, so when they both go their separate ways, he sends her a video of her fucking his fleshlight teasing her back for her attitude.

"See babydoll, this coulda been you if you weren't acting all bratty today; I could've been balls deep in you by now, but instead im balls deep in this toy"

SORRY, IT'S BEEN RATTLING AROUND IN MY BRAIN FOR DAYS NOW ♡♡

tease

1.5k // brat tamer!joel x f!reader

pt. 1 pt. 2 pt. 3

masterlist

Warnings/Information/Heads-Up: MA 18+ (minors DNI), NO OUTBREAK, brat!tamer Joel, smut via fucking a toy, extended teasing, dirty dirty dirty man talk, pet names, etc. very little editing, a little angst?

A/N: thank you for the request! short and sweet <3

Joel is infuriated. 

Your hand is under the table, raking up and down his thigh as if the motion was innocent. As if you didn’t know what you were doing. 

It had been like this all day, you had been toying with him. Cat and fuckin’ mouse. 

It started this morning. You insisted on coming over to Joel’s place early in the morning to make him a big breakfast, something he could definitely get behind. He came out of the shower, freshly trimmed and manscaped, all for you. 

What he didn’t expect when he walked downstairs and to the kitchen was the sight of you making breakfast in just a pair of black panties and his oversized dark gray Miller Contracting shirt. The sight alone made his cock swell for a treat of morning wood. 

You served his plate, gave that innocent little face, and proceeded to bend over the table to reach for the salt and pepper. 

Joel’s hand slowly moved up the back of your thigh, cupping the globe of your ass and giving a good squeeze to you. He was about to pull you in to sit on his lap, but was surprised to see you just go and sit in your chair across from him, digging into your own breakfast. 

Okay. 

The two of you had plans to meet up with Joel and Tommy’s good friend Dan and a few others to celebrate Dan’s birthday at a local pub. 

That’s where the two of you were now, with your hand raking up and down his leg and doing a few gentle squeezes that really made a shiver go up his spine. 

He could feel himself leaking in his boxers, hard under the outline you were absentmindedly drawing on his thigh. 

“Cut it out.” Joel told you sternly under his breath, his pint glass covering his mouth as he laid it against his bottom lip, trying to stare straight ahead at one of the large televisions they had in the bar. 

“Cut what out?” 

So many damn people were around, and it always felt like they were watching. 

Your fingernail added pressure to him, Joel’s knuckles going white around the pint glass he was certain he might shatter it. 

He felt you lean in, lips to his ear as everyone absentmindedly discussed the game on the tv. 

“What’s wrong, daddy?”

The condensation on Joel’s glass and your naughty comment had his pint slipping right through his fingers, his iron grip loosening for just a second before it clattered down onto the table and spilled everywhere. 

“Shit,” Joel quickly cursed, standing up from the table and reaching for the closest napkins he could find. 

Everyone looked at him and leisurely laughed, dismissing Joel’s little slip, wiping the streams of ale that reached their side of the table before returning to their mundane conversations. 

Joel’s eyes were staring daggers into you. He was pissed. 

Not only did he have beer dripping from the hem of his shirt, you were watching with a dopey smirk on your face as if you didn’t have anything to do with it. 

Joel’s cock has been aching in his jeans for hours now, the thought of bending you over and spanking the attitude out of you was really what he could go for right now. 

But you’d like that wouldn’t you? Getting Joel worked up all day, denying him access to his favorite little toy, not being able to pound his dick into your pussy like what he’s been craving for since he woke up this morning. 

He’d be a simmering tea kettle until he could get a good cum in, he couldn’t be here any longer. 

“I’m headin’ home to change.” Joel announced to Dan who shook his hand and thanked him for coming. 

You were in tow, slinging your bag around your shoulder as you followed Joel out with a pleased little grin. 

Joel’s face was fuming red like an angry cartoon character, one hand gripping his steering wheel while the other held his clutch.

Your hand landed on his arm, head coming to lay on his shoulder as you let out a soft sigh. 

“Someone’s angry.” Your teasing made his cock twitch. 

“Don’t like bein’ toyed with.” Joel returned flatly, feeling you run your fingers delicately up and down his bicep, causing goosebumps in your wake. 

“Who’s toying with you, daddy? When have I ever not delivered?” Your hand egregiously cupped his cock through his jeans, Joel swerving on the road at the unexpected grip you had on his pulsating balls. 

He could cum in seconds if you’d just let him. 

“Bein’ a real fuckin’ brat, you know that, baby?” Joel said through gritted teeth, his eyebrows furrowed together as his heart raced, the pressure pumping down to his swollen dick. 

He harshly shoved your hand away, feeling your pout from the passenger seat. 

Joel pushed his tongue against the side of his cheek as he concentrated on driving, watching from his peripheral as you hiked your skirt up for his pleasure.

You slipped two fingers past the band of your panties, playing with your slick before circling around your clit and letting out a little moan of his name. 

Joel’s eyelashes fluttered, he dared himself not to look but he couldn’t help it. 

His lips parted at the sight, watching as your fingers moved under the veil of your panties. But he could hear it. The squelching of your wet juices combatting your anxious fingers.  

“You gonna let me take care of that for ya?” Joel asked, his final try at trying to get himself in your pants. 

He watched you throw up your eyes in debate, biting down on your lower lip before you shook your head and crossed your legs, removing your hand as you sucked your slick right off your fingers. Not even letting Joel have a taste. 

“Mmm… nope.” 

Joel cocked his head, his throbbing member nearly giving him a headache. 

You were surprised to see Joel had parked in front of your house, looking out the window then back to him. 

“What are you-”

“Go on.” 

You paused, your eyes narrowing on him before you took off your seatbelt. 

“Fine… you can come in, you know.” You looked over his face but he was just staring straight ahead. “Joel?”

“Gotta go home and change my shirt, take care of a few things. Go on, now.” 

You let out a short little huff, throwing his truck door opening and hopping down, quickly slamming it closed as the truck rocked. You eyed him as you crossed in front of it, hitting the steps to your front porch when he peeled off. 

What the hell. 

You teased Joel all the time! Maybe never for this long but you weren’t expecting him to leave you high and dry at the end of the night. You liked when he showed you who was boss, telling him that your pussy was all for him. 

You threw yourself back in bed, rolling your eyes at the whole situation. 

Your phone buzzed beside you after you got out of the shower, combing through your hair before sitting on your bed and opening the video message from Joel. 

Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped at the sight. Your eyes were glued to the screen as you watched Joel thrust his cock into his fleshlight. 

An audible whimper left you, watching it in shock. 

His deep grunts echoed through your phone speakers, mouth going dry as you watched his fleshlight get filled up. You were envious of that fucking toy. 

“Oh, fuck me,” Joel’s moans were heaven to your ears, feeling a white hot spot start in your stomach as the video continued to play. 

His wrist snapped the toy faster down his cock, watching as it was lubed up with his spit and slick from his pre-cum and probably a bit of lube. 

Another whimper left your lips, begging that the toy could have been your aching pussy. 

“Ya see.. This could have been you, baby doll. Could have.. fuck.. could have been balls deep inside of you right now if you didn’t act like a damn brat all day. This could've been you.” 

His words made your bottom lip quiver, continuing to watch as his girthy length filled that toy to the brim. 

“God damn.. M’ fuckin close.”

His words made you shutter. You wanted to turn the video off. Hell, you wanted to chuck your phone out the window. But here you were, your eyes glued to it. You could see his dark happy trail, his salt and pepper hair that led to his fat fucking cock. 

You should have taken it at breakfast, you should have given it to him at the fucking bar! You’d do anything right now for him to fill you up like he was for his fleshlight. 

His phone got a little shaky as he came, Joel’s beautiful but erratic moans filling your ears as he flushed himself deep into his toy, filling it with his white hot cum. 

You could hear his breathing slow, watching as he slowly filmed himself taking the toy off his cock. He was covered in his own spill, and all you wanted to do was lick it clean off of him. 

“Goodnight baby girl, thanks for the good cum. Needed it all day.”

-----

@jrrmint @gracieispunk @macfrog @strang3lov3 @notjustjavierpena @bastardmandennis @joelslegalwhre @brittmb115 @casa-boiardi @nostalxgic @cool-iguana @chim-cham-blog

how to be added to the taglist

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

[darylbae]

Hey there, love your work!! That‘s why I just HAVE to request something. I was thinking about maybe daryl comforting reader after a nightmare? Have a great day! :)

night terrors — daryl dixon

in which you had been plagued with nightmares, and Daryl is there to comfort you

note: my requests are CLOSED for now, as i have fallen behind on writing them.

Growing up, you never slept easy. Your parents had told you what a nightmare you were getting you to bed every night, and even as a teen, you'd find yourself exhausted yet still struggling to fall asleep. You'd never really known trauma and discomfort quite like the end of the world, so you'd sweetly kissed goodbye your sleep when the world had ended. It was a long while of surviving, learning to kill the dead, learning to keep yourself and those around you alive. And you'd lost people before — your parents, your sibling, your friends. It was a never ending Hell you were trapped in. But you'd gained a new family, and a deep connection to the moody archer. You and Daryl bonded slowly, he'd never truly told you his feelings, but he showed you he cared. You'd be engaged in late night conversations when the two of you couldn't sleep. He'd always look out for you, and when the farm fell and he'd reunited with you, he couldn't take for granted the time he spent with you. He had to tell you everything he'd been harboring in his brain.

You'd been with Rick's group since before the farm, and you were now deep within the walls of Alexandria, making this community a home. For the first time in a long time, you felt safe. Safe enough to walk around with no weapons, to curl up in bed beside Daryl and get a few hours of sleep. But where insomnia had turned in for the night, the nightmares didn't. Like tonight, after a busy day with Michonne and Maggie, you wanted nothing more than your nightly debrief in bed with Daryl. You'd showered together, slowly crawled into bed and held each other tightly. Mumbling to each other about your days, what had happened, what tomorrow's plans were. It sent you both to sleep almost immediately, still tangled into each other's arms. Your body had only allowed you a few hours of rest until the night terrors had started. You were shivering, whimpering, sweating profusely, Daryl had woken up concerned at the sounds you were making. "Sweetheart," he whispered, his hand on your head to wipe away the sweat. He was still half-asleep himself, his voice not fully there as he called for you. You were still crying, still asleep, and Daryl had sat up now to wake you up. "Come on, sit up for me." He spoke, his voice soft and you'd finally bolted up in a panic. When you'd seen that Daryl was awake for you and nothing inside your head was really happening, you breathed deeply. Letting out all anxieties and fears you had in that moment, all while Daryl kept his hand on your back. "Come 'ere." He sat against the headboard as you climbed into his lap, your limbs rattling against his. The warmth of his hands soothed you, the hushing sounds he was making was enough to make you feel better. You truly felt safe with him, no amount of walls, gates, and weaponry could make you feel as safe as Daryl did. "How 'bout we get some water?" He asked, smoothing your damp hair down and looking into your eyes. There was no way he was going to sleep until you were safely dozing off onto him, even if it meant staying awake all night. He'd do it for you.

[heybank]

umm so i wrote a little fic/blurb idk i don't think it's good but it's something that's been stuck in my head for a while with my own little oc named grace but her name is only mentioned a few times so it could totally be ignored and seen as reader.

anyway this is my first ever fic so please be kind to me and if you have suggestions or other fic ideas i'd love to hear them.

not proof read and lowercase intended.

and if you think it's awful please lie to me i'm fragile 😔

deny

you are a lover girl. a hopeless romantic, someone who dreams of finding "the one" and living happily ever after. kie often says you tend to fall in love a little with everyone you meet. you can't help it though, you have so much love in you, it feels like you'll burst at the seams if you don't share it with others.

you think you're in love with your best friend jj maybank. no one understands you the way the wild blond haired boy does. no one can communicate with you with just a single look the way jj does. no one makes your heart beat out of your chest and your tummy flutter the way his dimpled smile does, eyes crinkling at the corners, a slight sunburn on his nose because lord know that boy doesn't use the sunscreen you bought him.

so yeah you're in love with jj maybank but then yesterday a different boy kissed you. pope heyward, your other best friend, genius extraordinaire whom you thought was maybe in love with kie but no- he kissed you and you felt a tingle in your ever beating heart. heat filled your cheeks and your ears became fuzzy. that was a new feeling when it came to pope. it made you excited to explore because as much as you love jj, you don't think the boy would ever return your undying affection because your friendship meant too much.

----

you stood in the threshold of popes bedroom, gasp stuck in your throat, eyes wide and mouth open at the sight before you. you’re not sure how to process what you’re seeing.

before you on the bed that pope kissed you on not even 24 hours ago, is jj maybank, your closest friend, kissing the heyward boy.

so many emotions flow through you at the sight before you.

shock because not once has jj; or pope for that matter mentioned or even hinted that they liked men- or each other. then again, jj has always liked beautiful people and pope is certainly that.

sadness because you and pope had literally just kissed. maybe you were naive to think a simple kiss meant something more to the boy, but it was pope, you don't think there's a mean bone in his body. then again you’ve always been too much of a romantic, too blinded to really see what’s in front of you. blinded by your want and need to be loved that perhaps you create situations in your mind that you interpret as reality? maybe you need to contact your therapist again. you're sounding even more delusional than before.

lastly, you feel jealousy. the angry green monster rumbling around in your tummy, making its way up your throat. you’re not sure what exactly is making you jealous because the image of the two boys kissing is surely confusing. are you jealous because pope is kissing another person who isn’t you? a part of you is jealous because he’s kissing jj. or maybe it’s that jj is kissing pope or that maybe they’re kissing eachother and they're not kissing you? you're not sure at this point. dear diary jealousy is a disease babes, and you are infected.

you must have made a noise because next thing you know, the two boys are pulling apart, a string of spit still connecting them and for a second your love rattled brain is jealous of it. the spit that is, because deep down you’ve always known that you wanted them both… to be the one to connect them. you feel slightly crazy being jealous of spit.

jjs face goes beat red and then flushes pale, like a ghost. he looks terrified and like he might vomit all over the floor in a second.

“grace!” popes panicked voice reaches your ears but they’re still kind of ringing from the shock of seeing your supposedly straight best friends kiss.

in your heartbroken haze you wonder if you're being a bad ally right now. you love the gays you swear! you just never pictured pope and jj as being a part of the gays ™.

you clear your throat, “jb and kie are waiting for us downstairs. we were going out on the boat today, remember?”

you try and say that as gently as possible because jj still looks like he’s going to pass out and pope isn’t much better.

popes hands are shaking as he reaches for you and a part of you wants to pull away but you’re not mean. you’ve never been mean so even if your feelings are hurt you’ll always put your best friends feelings above your own. and it looks like pope needs to touch you. maybe to hold your hand and reassure him you’re really standing there, witnessing something that you probably shouldn’t have.

so many emotions flicker through popes eyes. you can’t really see his blush but you’re sure if you touch his face it would be hotter than the sun.

pope grabs your hands in his shaking ones. you can feel how clammy they are and you hazard a look back to jj who has yet to even move. you’re a little concerned he’s gone into shock.

you let out a soft sigh and smile at the boys, a smile that is mostly genuine.

you squeeze popes hand and make eye contact with the panicked blonde boy on the bed.

“it’s ok jj. i won’t say anything if you don’t want me to.” you speak kindly, as if you’re talking to a scared feral cat.

you only see jj swallow hard. “for what it’s worth, i understand the appeal... wanting to kiss pope and all.” you tease hoping to cut the obvious tension in the room. you feel like you're the one choking now.

jj and pope both let out huffs like they’re afraid to laugh but also relieved you’re not upset.

“you’re not mad?” jj croaks like he still has a frog lodged in his throat. he looks at you with soft wonder, like you’re the best thing in his life. his stare makes your tummy flutter.

“of course not. you guys are my best friends. i only ever want you to be happy!” you reply honestly. jj deserves happiness after the shit life he’s been dealt. he deserves good things and if you have to set aside your feelings in order for him to have good things then by golly you’ll do that.

“grace, about yesterday-“ pope starts off,

“don’t worry buddy, already forgotten.” you cut him off. hopefully saving him the strife of having to apologize to you about the kiss and saving you the embarrassment of him telling you he regrets your kiss. you don't think you could survive hearing that out loud.

you march over to jj still holding popes hand, effectively dragging the boy with you. you throw your arms tightly around jjs neck and after a heartbeat, jj returns your hug. you move your head to look at pope and nod at him, encouraging him to join the hug.

“now c’mon. you know how pissy jb gets when he’s made to wait” you giggle.

you lead the boys out of popes room and home and into the twinkie without giving them an option of saying no.

“finally! i thought y’all died or something. what took so long” john b huffs in exasperation.

“my fault jb!” you quickly chirp so the boys don’t have to panic and think of a lie “pope showed me the new book he got and it’s my favourite and i starting gushing and you know me i can’t shut up and… well i forgot why i went up to get them in the first place” you giggle with a sheepish smile.

“you’re so lucky you’re cute, grace” kie laughs teasingly.

you see pope and jj making eye contact. you have a feeling you might need to play therapist for them soon. pope doesn’t know how to talk about his feelings without beating around the bush and well, jjs favourite thing to do is deny deny deny.

actually, that’s exactly what you’re gonna do too! deny you have feelings for pope. deny you have feelings for jj. deny you ever saw them kiss and deny that them kissing only upset you because you weren’t a part of it. deny that a part of you enjoyed it. deny that your feelings matter in this situation and deny that if given the chance, you’d love to be in between a beautiful jj maybank and pope heyward sandwich.

yep, deny deny deny. this is gonna be a long freaking summer.

[theaawalker]

Something to Feel, Something Real [Finnick Odair Smut]

Pairing: Finnick Odair x male!reader Song Inspo: Call Me By Your Name by Lil Nas X Word Count: 1,394 Summary: You've seen Finnick around, often through pitying eyes, but haven't spoken to him. The times you have seen, he's either with a client (flirting) or leaving them (shaking with shame, rage, and disgust). You decide to make him feel something real and mutually pleasurable. Warnings: smut, oral (male receiving), emotional build-up, MxM, one-shot, begging, substance usage, cursing, narrator pov Masterlist: see fandoms (pc-friendly) A/N: This is not attached to "I Promise", my other Finnick imagine. The second part will be here shortly. Just adding a little twist to the end. *smirks villainously* In the meantime, here's some gay smut to tickle your tentacles. Peep the easter egg tho ;)

You and Finnick have your first real conversation when he’s arriving back at the Tribute center one night after spending an upsetting few hours with one of Snow’s clients. He’s in a foul mood, anger bordering on despair and self-hatred, still feeling the ghosts of unwanted fingers on his body, when he steps into the elevator and finds you smoking a joint.

"Shit, shit!” you curse, hiding the joint up your sleeve and coughing, waving your hands in the air like you can disperse the smell. “Sorry, someone was smoking in here before,” you lie.

Finnick can’t help himself. He laughs. “Give me a hit and I won’t tell anyone.”

You share the joint in the elevator, not hitting any button to go up to either of your floors. The chatter comes easy with both of you, but it’s not long before you’re stepping over friendly small talk into a genuine conversation about the wild shit you’ve seen in the Capitol and in your case, at home, too. District 2 loves to rub elbows with the Capitol, something you despise. Your comparisons and imitations have Finnick barking laughter.

During one of the lulls in conversation, he takes in your face and form, basking in the fact that he’s responsible for the smile on your face right now. He’d like to get to know you better, and fuck it, maybe he’s a little horny right now, too.

“Come to my floor?” he asks, the joint between his fingers. He takes a slow drag, watching you.

You stare at his lips as he exhales. God, the high must be hitting because all you want to do is cover his lips with yours. Like, it’s the only thought rattling around in your peanut brain. His lips curl into a smile and--Oh, shit. He asked you a question.

“Sure,” you answer.

One expression Finnick identifies all too easily is lust. And he sees it plain on your face. “Then let’s go.”

Finnick leads you to the lounge on the fourth floor, well away from the bedrooms. The giant windows let in light from the Capitol’s nightlife.

“I miss the stars,” you say once you’re both settled next to each other on a loveseat. “It’s not like there are a ton of them back home with all the light pollution, but still. There are more than here.”

Finnick gazes at the dark sky. “You should come to District 4 sometime. You can see the entire Milky Way. And instead of listening to all those cars you listen to the ocean. And you can forget everything for a few moments.”

Despite the lounge being much, much larger than the elevator, this feels far more intimate. Finnick and you face each other, your eyes flicking to his lips. He’s the Capitol sex icon and has always acted like an absolute peacock on camera, but you’ve seen him trying so hard mentoring his own tributes and taking care of Mags. There’s a lot more depth to him than what the cameras show. And you like the bits he shows off camera far, far more. Those bits are coming out tonight; a funny, deeply caring, deeply hurt young man with a vast capacity for kindness.

When he came into the elevator, he looked positively miserable and so, so defeated. Like he had been stomped on and ground down. You wanted to make him smile, a real smile, but then you couldn’t stop at just one, and now here you are. You know about his and Snow’s “arrangement”. You also know you can treat him better than any of the “clients” do even when they’re trying, and you wonder if he’ll let you treat him like that.

Your intense stare has Finnick shifting, feeling a few degrees hotter than before.

“Can I kiss you?” you finally ask, voice low. If there’s one thing being a Career has taught you, it’s to grab at any opportunity you see. Finnick swallows. “Yes,” he croaks. “Please.”

You lean forward and capture his lips, one hand on the back of the couch and the other securely in your lap. You’re close and leaning into him, but not holding him. The restraint surprises him at first. But he’s grateful for it and he relaxes. He sinks into the kiss, his own hands venturing to fist in your shirt collar and hold you there. You let him lead, let him feel your arms and touch your face and chest, but never move your own hands from their position, just pour your all into your lips against his.

The lights flick on. You and Finnick snap apart like a rubber band snapping back into shape. It’s Mags. She looks between you both with wide eyes before a mischevious smile breaks across her face. “No, no, Mags,” Finnick protests.

She winks, grinning, and flicks the lights back off. She exits.

Finnick groans. “I’m never going to hear the end of it.”

You grin and wink. “Well, if you’re never going to hear the end of it, we may as well make it worth it, right?”

His seafoam eyes lock on yours, an eyebrow lifting. He smirks. “Oh? What do you have in mind?”

Leaning forward, you whisper in his ear, “I’d like to suck you off.”

All thoughts leave his head and all blood flows straight to his groin. For once, he’s speechless. No one has ever offered this before. All the people he spends time with want his attention on them, want him to fawn over them, wants him to boost their egos with his attention. And if they did off, he’d wonder what they want in return. Exactly like he’s wondering right now. He should ask, but his brain is too focused on the thought of your lips around his dick. Does he really care what happens after as long as he gets what he wants, first?

At his silence you withdraw. “Only if you want me to, of course,” you add. The last thing you want to do is make him uncomfortable.

“Yes,” he hastily replies. “Yes. I’d love you to suck me off.”

That affirmation is all you need. You kneel in front of him and slowly unzip his pants, revealing plain boxers beneath. Finnick watches you, his heart pounding. With agonizingly slow movements, you touch his length and guide it through the gap in his boxers. He grips the cushions of the loveseat as you lick up the underside of his member, from the base to the tip. Your tongue is deliciously wet. Finally, you take Finnick into your mouth and work him slow, slow, slow. One hand balls into a fist on his leg and the other slips in your hair. He moans, a low sound that barely reaches your ears.

You can’t believe no one has ever done this before. You’ve barely started, and he looks absolutely wrecked and so goddamned pretty. His head falls back against the loveseat and he lets out a shaky breath.

Fisting him, you take your mouth off to quip, “Have I made the Finnick Odair speechless?”

He huffs a laugh, meeting your gaze. “Just wait until I have you on your back and—oh.” His words end in a strangled moan as you suck his head. You ease him a little bit further into the rhythm before you deep-throat him. By then both hands tangle in your hair and he’s whimpering and trembling, muscles taut. “Fuck. Fuck.” It’s so warm, so hot, feels so, so good.

He comes shortly after, cock hot and stiff in your mouth, his entire body rigid. As he comes down from his high he melts into the couch, both his hands gently tugging at your head. “Get up,” he pants. You comply and stand, bracing your arms on either side of his head, and kiss him. There it is again, that restraint.

“Touch me,” he moans. “Please.” He might combust if you don’t.

You obey and cup his cheeks. His hands mimic yours, holding your face to his while you kiss. His stomach feels warm and body completely relaxed, for once completely in the moment, his brain pleasantly quiet.

He opens his eyes. “What can I do for you?”

You press your forehead to his, cheeks hot. God, there’s so much you want to do to him, with him, but not tonight. “You can go to bed and get a full night’s sleep,” you answer.

What? He knows he heard you right, but what? “That’s not what I meant,” he says hesitantly. You chuckle and kiss his cheek.

“I know.” You brush back a lock of his hair. “And as much as I’d like to fuck you or you fuck me and make out well into the morning, you taking care of yourself is what I want the most. Can you promise me you’ll do that?”

Finnick can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “I promise.” He feels almost bashful. How do you know what he needs? Beneath your soft gaze he feels vulnerable and open, and while it’s foreign, it’s not unwelcome.

You smile at him, a brilliant smile that lights up the night. “Thank you.”

You’re thanking him. You just gave him a blowjob and you’re thanking him. Who the fuck are you?

After exchanging a few more minutes of sweet nothings, you leave to head to your floor. Finnick stays on the loveseat a while longer, smiling, watching the twinkling lights of the Capitol. The content expression gradually falls from his face and he sinks into the reality that is his life. At least this has been a sliver of good in what is his constant parade of masking for the Capitol. Maybe he can have a few more of those slivers when you’re around. He’s certainly going to try to grab the chances when they present themselves.

• ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ • ♧ •

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[cryptcutiee]

Karma Is My Boyfriend

Pairing: Leon Kennedy X Reader (gender neutral) Synopsis: In search of good karma, you do a random act of kindness by paying for the coffee of whoever comes in behind you. That person ends up being a rather attractive man. Tags: Fluff, Comfort Warnings: Use of pet names (sweetheart, sweet thing), age gap (if you squint) Song: Karma - Taylor Swift Word Count: 1.6K Author's Notes: Ahhh hello Tumblr! I haven't posted any writing in a very long time. This is my very first fic on this account, but I do have more in the works. So if you want to see more from me or a part 2 to this, lmk! This is my first x reader story in years so comments and feedback is appreciated!

The day had barely started, yet everything that could go wrong was going wrong. Alarms you set decided not to go off. You had burned your breakfast. The hot water in your shower lasted a total of two minutes before it plunged you into an ice-cold drizzle. Clothes you wanted to put on had mysteriously vanished into thin air. You had dressed in attire you didn't want to wear when it started to rain as you were leaving. It was a bunch of little things adding up to a horrible morning. That didn't bode well for your luck today, which made you worry. Today was significant. You were waiting to hear back from that apartment complex. You needed to get approved for it. The current studio you were living in was crap, and this place would be a major upgrade. With how your day was going, your hope was at an all-time low.

This is how you found yourself standing across the counter from your best friend at the local coffee shop. They were a barista here, and although gossiping on work hours should be frowned upon, they always had time for you. Besides, it seemed slow today. Nobody was in line, and the few patrons lingering around were sitting at tables chatting or working. So you vented about your entire morning as your friend took down your coffee order. You got your usual which was no surprise. With the way your day was going, why would you try something new?

Your friend's eyebrows quirked up at how much of a nightmare your morning had been. "Sounds like you're having a bad energy day."

You leaned against the counter with a deadpan expression. "No shit Sherlock. Normally I wouldn't care, but I can't afford for today to be a bad day! At this rate, I'm going to get denied." You groaned. Anxiety was eating at you, and with how everything had been going, you had little faith in good news.

"Hey, hey, hey!" Your best friend pulled your attention back, "Thinking like that will just make it worse. What if you put some good energy out there, you know, like karma or something?"

You blinked as you took in their words. Karma? You understood the concept of it. Doing bad would attract bad, and doing good would attract good. A sigh left your lips as you stared across the checkout at your friend. "How do you suggest I go about that?" You're sliding your debit card across the counter as you stare them down, waiting for whatever idea they have.

Your friend put on their thinking face, and within moments their expression lit up with an idea. "What about a random act of kindness? You could pay for whoever comes in next!"

The idea rattled around in your brain for a moment. It wasn't like you believed in supernatural forces, but what exactly did you have to lose? "Fine, charge the next person's order to my card. Please don't make a big deal out of it though! I'm not doing it for recognition."

"You got it! Now go wait over by the pickup end. I'll get your order out."

With a nod to your friend, you moved over to the pickup area. Your fingers drummed against the counter anxiously. Eyes darting down to your phone as you waited for that email from the apartment complex. You could hear the bell on the door as you scrolled through your notifications. You listened to your friend speaking to what sounded like a man, but you kept your eyes stuck to your screen. He ordered a black coffee, and then your best friend said the words that made you focus more on the conversion feet away from you.

"I'm happy to say your order today has already been covered!"

When you looked up to see who you had paid for, you may have encountered one of the most attractive men you have ever seen. He had to be older than you, but he looked like he took care of himself. His shirt clung to his fit form, and those arms looked like they could pop a seam on his sleeves. Maybe karma did exist because the universe had just dropped this gorgeous sight right into your lap.

"Oh?" The man's low timber caused something to crawl down your spine. "By who?"

You could see the gears turning in your best friend's brain on how to answer the question. They knew what you asked for but could also witness your reactions from the sidelines. "By the person who ordered before you."

The man quickly put the pieces together, and his eyes glanced at you, the only person waiting for their order.

Mentally you were screaming and cursing at your friend for putting you in this situation, but at the same time, you were thanking them. As if to send the message home, they called out your name and slid your coffee order to you. Your eyes met his, and you felt your stomach do a flip. His eyes were breathtaking. If you looked too long, you thought you'd drown in them. With all the courage in your bones, you mustered an awkward smile. Hand reaching over to grab your coffee, you noticed out of the corner of your eye as the man moved toward you.

"Hey." A slight smile touched his lips as he approached, "Were you the one that paid for my coffee?" He knew it was you, and there was no point in lying to this stunning man.

"Yeah, I did. Don't worry. It was nothing." You replied, trying to shrug it off. "I just wanted to pay it forward. Trying to get some good luck." That same embarrassed smile glued to your face. Talking to this man wasn't in your cards today, but it was going better than everything else this morning.

"I can't just let you do that without introducing myself. I'm Leon, Leon Kennedy." Leon extended his hand out. Your own wrapped around his for a handshake while introducing yourself. "Why are you looking for good luck? Something wrong, sweetheart?"

Your free hand shot up in denial. "Oh no, nothings wrong! I'm waiting for an important email. It's to see if I got approved for this apartment I applied for." There was no reason for you to be telling Leon all of this. He was a stranger, but he was easy to open up to. "My morning was a disaster, and I didn't want the bad luck to continue, so my friend suggested I do something for good karma." You gestured to the barista in the background, your best friend. "Sorry, that all sounds a little silly."

"Not at all." The corner of Leon's lips lifts into a smirk." It's cute, honestly." Those blue eyes of his glimmered with interest as he spoke. It caused butterflies to flutter in your tummy. Suddenly your nerves aren't about the email. They're more about the man in front of you. "Do you have any plans today? I hope I'm not holding you up."

As fast as you can, you shake your head in response. "You aren't! I don't have anything to do today except wait." You watch as your friend delivers the black coffee Leon ordered. Their eyes glance at you with a knowing look. When Leon turns his back to them, they give you a thumbs up before scurrying back to the checkout.

"Then you'll let me repay you by grabbing dinner with me?" Leon grabbed his coffee, a sure look in his eyes. "It's the least I can do for a sweet thing like you, besides it'll get your mind off that email."

Did you just get asked out by some guy you bought coffee for? He was undoubtedly good-looking and had effortless charisma. Saying no would be a mistake. "Sure!" You automatically flush at how enthusiastic you sound. "I mean, that sounds like a nice distraction."

Leon let out a faint chuckle. "I usually get turned down. Maybe I have all the good karma today." Your eyes meet as he takes a sip of his coffee. "You like Italian? I know a good place, my treat."

"I do." Your lips curl into a soft smile. "Do you want to exchange numbers? Here." You open a fresh contact page on your phone and hold the device towards him. Your fingers brush against his as you pass your phone over to Leon. It causes a light blush to paint your features, and you can only hope he doesn't notice. As he's putting his number in, the faint chime of your notification tone rings out. 

Leon's eyes dart to the pop-up, and he grins. "Looks like I'm your good luck charm." He comments, passing the phone back to you. 

Your eyes automatically search the screen and see an email notification. The apartment complex approved you. A wide smile breaks out on your face. "I guess you are, Leon. Maybe I should keep you around." You can feel his blue eyes on you as you say that.

"Maybe you should." There's a beat of silence between the two of you. It suddenly feels like you got trapped in some romance novel. "So, celebration dinner then? Send me your address, and I'll pick you up at seven." Leon breaks the silence with that intoxicating tone of his.

"That works for me! I'll text you."

Exiting the coffee shop, you feel much better than when you arrived. Your newest contact, Leon, is on the screen, and you can't get that smile off your face.

Karma is the guy on the screen, coming straight home to me.

[multifan2022]

*Prewarning.. this is my first attempt at writing again.. I haven't touched my laptop since January so bare with me lol*

You could feel the warm wetness running down the side of your neck as you sat pinned at a weird angle. There was a sharp and hot pain every time you took a breath as you tried to remember where you were. What was the last thing you did? You couldn't remember getting in the bronco. Didnt remember driving away from the house. All you could remember was fighting with Bradley. 

“Why would you say that to him Brad?! You know how devastated he was when Goose died! You're not the only person that hurt Rooster! FUCK!” You slammed your hands down onto the counter, having a hard time even looking at your husband. While you and your dad were not close, you never blamed him for what happened with Goose. Sure you blamed him for the short break up between you and Bradley as young adults but clearly that was in the past. All you wanted now was for them to figure it out, you wanted to be a family, have a family. But now as Bradley stood here looking at you the same way he looks at Mav.. You were questioning things..

You hadn't even noticed that you called him Rooster.. A thing that just started after the move back to Fightertown. Because you had always known Bradley, he wasn't Rooster too you.. But every night when he came home, a little more mad, and a little more distant, your Bradley was being replaced by Rooster. The aviator who was the best of the best, who was part of the 1%. But was also the aviator who had taken the anger and trauma Bradley had and used it to mold himself. 

“No one to mourn you when you burn in… Really Bradley, because last time I checked, I am the one and only emergency contact for BOTH OF YOU!”

That if your rattled brain could remember correctly was the spark that lit the match. You and Bradley did not fight often, but when you did it was explosive. The kind of fights that left people in tears, the kind that led to words that should've been left unspoken. One of you always ended up on the couch for a few hours, normally both in tears until one of you couldnt take it anymore. Tonight was the first night that one of you actually left. 

You didn't even know which part it was that pushed Bradley over the edge. Was it you telling him you couldn't have kids with him if he couldn't get his anger under better control? That you refused to keep Mavs grandkids from him one day over some pulled papers? Was it when you said that you had sacrificed enough to be with him, that you had to draw the line? Was it when you told him Goose and Carol would be disappointed in how he treated Mav today? 

No matter what it was, the words he spoke as he left stung enough to leave you standing in the same spot for at least 30 minutes after he left. When you blinked and everything caught up with you, you realized the quietness of the house was turning your stomach. Without thinking you slipped shoes on and grabbed your keys. Originally you wanted to just drive your jeep around, clear your head since Bradley had just taken the doors and top off. But when you noticed the bronco still in the drive you couldn't resist being just a little close to Bradley. 

That's how two hours later you ended up driving down some road next to some beach. Honestly at this point you weren't even sure where you were. All you could think about was how hard you were crying as Tim McGraw and Tswift came on. Highway don't care, it seemed poetic, if a song was ever written for the aftermath of this fight, it was this one. When it ended, you had decided it was past time to call Bradley, to find out where he was and at least get you both home. Unfortunately you accidentally knocked your phone out of the old cup holder and onto the passenger floor. One last attempt to save it before it flew out the open door was made. 

You should've let it fly out the door. Because as you stretched across the cab, a car full of intoxicated teenagers came down the middle of the road. You could've sworn you heard someone yell your name as you sat straight up, jerking the wheel way too harshly in your panic to try and miss them. You desperately tried to keep control of the bronco as you skid sideways, unable to get control before it flipped down the side of the bank. 

That's where you were now, wondering how much more Bradley would hate you for crashing his late fathers baby. In your concussed mind, this would be the feather that shattered your relationship. The nail in the proverbial coffin. Part of you registered how long you had been hanging sideways in your seat, the truck having stopped on the passenger side after flipping a few times. You registered that you were struggling to breathe, and definitely were bleeding. You didn't hear any sirens, knew that the teens had not stopped. But thankfully, as one Amelia Benjamin, was dropped off at home her conscience overran her fear of being in trouble. 

So she told her mother and her boyfriend how she had been out drinking. How there had been a vehicle, one she swore she knew, that ended up off the road and she couldn't get anyone to stop. The two adults reassured her that while she was in trouble, she made a good choice in telling them. That maybe she saved someone's life. Little did they know how closely this would hit their little family. 

~~

Jake was over Bradley, the new found friendship they had was great. But it was two in the morning, and Jake honestly just didn't get it. He couldn't imagine having a lifelong love. A childhood best friend turned into the love of his life. So he couldn't wrap his brain around why Rooster was sitting in his kitchen right now. He also couldn't figure out who Rooster was mad at, himself or you? He told him as much and was surprised and worried when big brown eyes lifted from the floor with tears in them. 

“Myself, I think.” Roosters voice croaked “Because she's right ya know.. How can I ask her to give me a family when I cant even be nice to her dad? You know I didn't even ask for his blessing? Not because I thought he would say no, but because I thought it would be a slap in the face to him.. I've always used her as a way to hurt him..” Rooster broke off in a sob. It hurt Hangman's heart to see how hard of a time his wingman was having. But if he knew you, and he felt like he did, you were going through it worse. 

Taking a deep breath he pushed off his counter, annoyed that he was pulling his boots on with his impromptu sweat pants and grabbing his truck keys. Roosters watery eyes followed him before he jumped from his stool, understanding what was happening. When the two were finally in the truck Jake spoke, “Look Bradshaw, I know we aren't great friends or whatever, but I'm gonna tell you something that's gonna suck to hear.” Without looking he clicked the radio off before he continued. “Y/n.. She's a once in a lifetime kinda woman. The kind that will put up with just about anything to make things work. But once she draws a line in the sand, its there forever. Not just for you, but for the next guy too.” 

The hair on Rooster's arms stood on end, not only because of Jakes words but he swore he heard another male voice whisper his name. “What do you mean.. The next guy..” Jake scoffed at how soft and confused Rooster's words were. “My man.. Do you think she will stick around if the one thing she asks of you, is something you refuse to do? She has already given up her father walking her down the aisle.. He wasn't even at the wedding right? She's moved all over to be with you. The only long term roots she has are from when she lived with you as a kid. When was the last time she asked something big of you?” 

Rooster couldn't recall, causing Jake to just sigh and shake his head “I'm telling you this as your friend.. Fix this.. Because I wont fuck up where Maverick is concerned” Jake smirked at Bradley as they pulled into the driveway of your shared home. Rooster was practically out of the truck before it was in park, neither of them registering that the Bronco was gone. Jake watched as Bradley yelled your name, panicking more and more as he cleared each room. When he made it back to the living room he was already pulling his phone out. His thumb didn't even hesitate to click the call button as he tried to get ahold of you. 

He called over and over again, not knowing that you were watching as your phone buzzed just a few feet from the car. You could swear you saw a man who looked just like Bradley walk up to the Bronco and give you a sad smile. Your eyes closed just as the bright blue and red lights started flashing close enough to illuminate your accident. Your last thought about how Bradley would get what he wanted. What his final sentence had been to you, come to life.. It just cost him the Bronco. 

~~~

The ER was nuts on a good night, but tonight a Nurse named Layla was panicking. She had only met you a few times, being one of Hangman's regulars. At first, when she heard the explanation of the vehicle she was sure it was a Bradshaw, but unfortunately there was no IDS in the car and the police in the rush of trying to save you, had missed your phone. It wasn't until she rushed into the room to help with the CPR rotation that she knew it was you. Your hair was matted back with blood, the number of cuts and bruises amazed her. She was even more amazed that the tattoo on your hip was untouched. The one of a rooster with aviators on, the one that had confirmed who you were. 

Quickly announcing that she knew who you were she ran from the room. Slipping sideways as she tried to open her employee locker. She had never dialed Jake's number so quickly. 

Jake felt sick after he hung up. He was thankful for Layla, honestly he had always really liked her and this made him feel like he needed to take the whole thing with her seriously. But as he looked at Bradley, who was practically hyperventilating he didn't know how he was going to get him to the hospital. Layla had told him it was bad, bad enough that she didn't know if you were going to make it. Hangman heard the words come out of his mouth before he could stop them. They were harsh and he wanted to take the way he said it back almost immediately. “Bradshaw, looks like I found your wife.. She's in the hospital.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Bradleys entire world came crashing down in a matter of nanoseconds. He kept trying to say what by only the wh would come out. He could see Jake's mouth moving as he ushered him back to the truck, and could comprehend that he was on the phone with Mav. But he couldn't grasp anything. 

Well that is until the last interaction he had with his wife, the wife who was currently dying, played in his head. The one where he stormed out, didn't tell her he loved her. Didn't give her a kiss. Just said words that want to make him vomit now. Jake didn't fully hear him the first time he spoke, but when he asked Rooster to repeat himself, it took a lot of self control to not hit the man. 

“My last words to her.. They were that I'd probably be better off without any of the Mitchells..”

Bradley's mouth tasted sour, his whole body weighed down as he cried silently. Thinking about how much he would hate himself if he couldn't make this right. What if you left him after this? Would you move in the Mav? Get with someone like Jake? God he doesn't think he could watch it. Doesn't think he could handle you even packing an overnight bag to be away from him for a night. Why did he always let this happen? 

Why does he always let his anger just blurt out, why does he always take it out on you? When Mav had pulled his papers? It had been you he left. When his mom passed and you were trying to clean the house up for the wake.. It had been you he screamed at, even you whose head was right next to the wall he threw her favorite coffee cup into. But he only ever remembered the parts he liked. The memories where you held him while he cried and tried to pick up the pieces of that cup. Where he found a replacement in the cupboard a few days later. The parts of your story that made him feel loved. Like when he showed up at UVA, standing on your townhouse step with a duffle bag, sad eyes and apologies. It had been pouring rain, you had made him beg on his knees on the front porch before letting him in. 

He didn't hear any of Jake's words on the drive, and was out of the car even sooner this time. His feet eat up the distance between him and the front desk attendant. When they tell him you're still unstable and he will have to wait, he almost passes out. Once again Jake leads him to a seat. He doesn't register anything that doesn't have to do with you. He barely notices as the other members of the squad show up. Maverick kneels in front of him trying to catch his eye. But when he does, Bradley loses it. The tears that have been silently streaming down his face are now coming out in full sobs. Bradley keeps apologizing over and over, for not treating his daughter the way he should have. For what he said, for how long he has let this go on. It's like sad but relieving word vomit. 

Once Bradleys done, he moves on to reassuring an equally distressed Amelia. Who crying and sobs every word out as she explains to someone she looks at like a big brother, what happened. Bradleys not mad at her, hes not even mad at her friends. He's mad at himself, because had he grown up sooner, had he not been the reason for this fight, you wouldn't have been out on the road anyways. You would've been at home, wrapped up in his arms watching trash tv before having sex and falling asleep. He put you here, he knows that. 

When Layla comes out and says a soft hi, it breaks her heart and fills it to see the entire group here. She's surprised when Jake comes and hugs her, kissing the top of her head and thanking her profusely. She spoke as frankly and kindly as she could. “It was touch and go for a while. We lost her a few times.. She was unconscious when the cops found her.. She's got a long road ahead of her. Collapsed lung, small brain bleed, lots of bruises and a handful of broken bones. She's stable for now, but I don't really have good news yet. The first 24 hours are crucial.” 

All Bradley could hear as Layla led him and Maverick down the hall was that you had died.. Multiple times. He heard Mav gasp slightly as he entered the room, and it was like glue that forced Bradleys feet to stay in place. Layla paused as your dad walked towards you and turned to your husband. “I know this is hard Rooster.. But Y/ns a fighter.. She fought hard while in the Bronco, fought harder in the ambulance and here to stay with you.. But now she needs you..” Layla squeezed his arm as he took the small step to the doorway. 

The scene in front of him was nothing like in the movies. Ones where they show someone who was ‘in an accident’ but is barely bruised up. No, because the woman laying before him couldn't be his wife. Your skin was grayish, instead of the healthy tan glow you had developed under the Cali sun. The multiple leads and wires you had on you helping to sustain your life made him sick. A collar around your neck to keep your head stable. There were gashes across your beautiful face, and bruises on every inch of skin he could see. He knew the next moment he had with you would be make it or break it. You would either wake up, and be happy to see him.. Or you would wake up and ask him to leave.. 

Now all he could do.. Was wait. 

[hypnoneghoul]

Hyp! You said, so you shall receive! Ofcourse only if you want to do something with it but this lil shit has been rattling around my racoon brain for a bit. So, for you 🤲

Rain has the most delicate wrist’s. They’re not even the smallest in the pack, Aurora for example has teeny tiny, fingers overlap, kinda wrist’s.

No Rain’s are a contradiction of themselves, delicate and soft looking like precious porcelain but there’s strength in there too, there has to be because the bass is heavy.

His Ulna is very prominent and after he’s been playing for a few hours there’s a vein that curves around it, cradling the bone.

It’s also a terribly erogenous spot for him, Dew would know. He’s spent a hours staring, stroking his fingers over the delicate joints, imagining how he’d make Rain into a weepy little mess begging Dew to just do something, stop teasing.

Rains wrists drive Dew absolutely feral and Rain knows it.

Or something like that, idk. 🤷🏻‍♂️

this made my brain go empty for weeks but here i am and i bring food. loosely inspired by @miasmaghoul's fic on dewther watching the ghovie, hope u don't mind

does not contain any rhrn spoilers!!!

“Should’ve made you take the jacket off sooner,” Dewdrop whispers right into his ear with another slow stroke over delicate skin.

It’s stretched so thin over the bones of Rain’s wrist, keeping all the tendons and veins not hidden, but veiled nonetheless.

The water ghoul grits his teeth and digs his claws further into his own thigh. Well, not claws, considering he’s got them glamored—they’re surrounded by tens of unsuspecting humans, after all—but his blunt, perfectly trimmed nails. The same ones that are still flashing on the big screen right before them from time to time.

“I’d get to see those pretty wrists even more.”

Rain can do nothing but keep his head straight and his eyes glued to the screen. He should’ve known. He should’ve known his little mate would go absolutely feral seeing not just him in general in the cinema, but the close-ups of his hands. His wrists.

Why the delicate bones wrapped in fair skin were Dewdrop’s undoing, nobody’s ever learned, even though nobody could deny that every single part of Rain’s body is absolutely perfect. He carries the precisely carved out and yet so natural beauty of renaissance statues. For some reason, the fire ghoul’s favorite part of him is one of the unassuming ones and because of this his mate’s own body was conditioned to betray him every single time a reverent fingertip would be placed over that spot.

“Dew, you can’t–” Rain mutters when the music is loud enough to cover up his cracking voice. There’s nothing more he wants right now than for Dewdrop to go on and work him up and up until he tips over the edge, but they can't, they're in public. And the water ghoul knows he won’t be able to control himself if his mate carries on his teasing.

“Sure I can,” Dewdrop turns to smile at him and if Rain didn’t know better he’d call it genuine, sweet, innocent. The fire ghoul is all but that.

Dewdrop lets his glamor slip the tiniest bit, just enough for one of his nails to return to its natural state. He scrapes it over the middle one of Rain’s flexors, pressing it down just enough to leave a straight red line following the tendon. His skin is so delicate, it takes barely anything to leave a mark.

The thought makes the fire ghoul let out a growl.

Rain whines pathetically like a kicked puppy and throws his head back against the top of the cushioned cinema seat. Another clip focused solely on his own fretting hand flashes on the screen and the water ghoul wants to scream.

Instead he throws his free hand over his crotch, pressing down onto the steadily growing bulge to take some of the edge off. It doesn’t escape Dewdrop’s attention—just as the smell of the fire ghoul’s cunt in arousal doesn’t escape Rain’s.

He leans into his ear once again.

“It’s actually a wonder you’ve never tried putting your whole hand into me,” Dewdrop whispers, moving his claw up Rain’s forearm as he shakes in his seat. “We should try that later. Wanna see your wrist buried inside me while my slick is dripping down this pretty veiny forearm all the way to your elbow.”

The next noise the water ghoul lets out makes the entire auditorium turn their heads.

[cuffmeinblack]

Fight or flight

Sebastian Sallow x f!reader

Tags: explicit | smut | rough sex | light choking | Auror!Sebastian

3.8k words

Summary: A raid goes horribly wrong and both you and Sebastian blame the other. Anger and forbidden desire get the better of you.

A/n: I honestly just wanted to write hot angry sex with Sebastian, and the thought of him strapped with a leather wand holster was rattling around in my brain for far too long. Scroll to the bottom for bonus audio!

What a fucking disaster. The raid you'd spent months planning and hours of your free time fretting over, had fallen apart at the seams at the last second. It could have meant glory and recognition for your team, for the entire Auror department, if only Sebastian Sallow had been a team player.

All you had to show for it was a few inconsequential arrests. The dark wizards responsible for dozens of deaths had once again slipped through your fingers. You'd never felt more dejected after a raid than you were now, the frustration was close to boiling over and whoever happened to be in your path would soon feel your uncontained ire. 

It didn't take long for your quiet stewing to be interrupted by a voice from behind you.

"A word?" Sebastian asked, though it was more of a demand.

You narrowed your eyes and with a dramatic huff, pushed past him, stalking into his office. You began pacing the creaking wooden floor in front of his desk which was strewn with papers and various magical objects. The sneakoscope on top of a stack of parchment was whirring excitedly, as it often did—there was no shortage of deception occurring in the Ministry of Magic building.

Sebastian stepped into the room, slamming the door behind him which shook on its hinges with the sheer force of his anger. He yanked at the buckle on his wand holster, the leather strap falling open against his heaving chest. Leaning forward onto his desk, he let out a deep sigh, almost a growl of barely-contained frustration.

"What was that? I had him," he spat, slamming his hands onto the wood, his stare fixed at his knuckles, growing whiter by the second.

"You had him? I was about to make the arrest before you came barging in. You were meant to be holding onto the brother," you shot back, ceasing your pacing.

Sebastian's eyes flashed menacingly as he looked up at you, and you were reminded of just how dangerous he was. A cold shiver ran down your spine at the look usually reserved for his targets.

"You should've let me make the arrest," he said, his voice steady, but deadly.

The comment only served to rile you up, a fierce indignation rising like bile in your throat as you shouted your reply.

"You can't help yourself can you? You own fucking ego always gets in the way."

"My ego? It should've been my kill. Mine."

Sebastian had moved with the quickness of a predator honing in on its prey, his dark eyes boring into you. You involuntarily stepped back under the heavy stare, your breath growing shallow as your thighs hit the desk behind you. He was so close, his breath hot and heavy against your face, the few inches he had on your height enough to make you feel entirely trapped. Prey.

"Kill? You're insane," you breathed, your voice quieter but still dripping with venom. "I should report you."

Your hand flew to your wand but he was quicker, grabbing your wrist with a painful grip. As he pinched the nerves and tendons, your fingers twitched, sending your wand clattering to the floor.

"Figure of speech."

There was more than anger in his dark eyes as they glittered menacingly. A flash of something visceral—desire. Desire for you, or a desire to punish you—you weren't sure which, but knew you'd be getting the same treatment anyway.

Your treacherous body had responded already as you tried to squirm out of his vice. The adrenaline surge had quickened your pulse, now beating rapidly against Sebastian's commanding grip. Fight or flight. All the blood reserved for your reasoning and self control seemed to be pooling between your legs, an intense and infuriating ache settling.

You were by no means weak and helpless, even when disarmed. Your knee jerked, aiming for Sebastian's weak spot—a low blow, literally, but he thoroughly deserved it. He was a quick duellist, all grace and elegance amongst his raw power, and he anticipated your move before you'd even made it. With a twist of his hips, he'd dodged your attack and used your own momentum against you, hooking a leg behind yours and sending you off balance.

With a yelp, you ended up falling onto the desk behind you, Sebastian looming over you with a devilish smirk.

"Nice try. We ought to practice duelling some time. You have a tell when you're about to attack."

You growled and smacked him hard across the face, leaving an angry red imprint across his freckled skin. Sebastian seemed to consider you for a second, his eyes dragging lazily back to your own from where they'd been so mercilessly displaced by your hand only a second ago.

You'd crossed a line and were about to pay for it. Perhaps, that was why you'd felt the need to provoke him. Deep down, you wanted his retaliation—you could feel it pressing into your hip as he straddled your leg. 

Sebastian grabbed your other wrist, his nails digging into your skin, leaving angry red marks to show his displeasure. That may have been his intention, but there was pleasure in the pain, and the gasp that left your mouth wasn't meek or fearful, it was one of desperate arousal.

Your breath had grown ragged, unable to tear your eyes or limbs away from him. His head was dipped towards you, a look of deadly intimidation across his face—his eyebrows knitted slightly in a frown, lip curled and neck flushed red. Your eyes followed the tinge of the skin down to his heaving chest, the colour disappearing underneath the fabric of his open collar.

His wand holster dangled under his arms, the handle tantalisingly within reach—if only you had some spare appendage to reach with. Sebastian smirked as he followed your gaze, knowing exactly what you were thinking and reveling in your defeat.

His erection twitched against your thigh and your hips instinctively bucked against him. Sebastian tightened the grip around your wrists, now pinned against the wood beneath you as he seemed to fight the urge to react. You returned his satisfied smirk and pressed yourself into him further, leaning your head back and biting your tongue between your teeth.

Sebastian dipped his head to growl into your ear. "That's how you want to play it?" 

You shook your head mockingly. "You're fucking insufferable. Only you would get off on this."

You hated him enough in that moment to want to curse him into oblivion. The months you'd spent planning that raid had been ruined by his need to be the best at everything. To prove he was every bit as worthy of applause and admiration as the so-called Hero of Hogwarts. 

The worst part wasn't your fury, it was the fact you wanted him to prove your statement wrong. And you were wrong—he wasn't the only one absolutely brimming with pent up frustration and long-held sexual tension. Your underwear was saturated with forbidden desire and your heart beat to the rhythm of his steadily grinding hips.

He loosened his fingers wrapped around your sore wrists, but before you could do anything he had a hand against your throat, the firm pressure against your windpipe more of a threat than the word he uttered. 

"Don't."

You glared at him as your hands stilled around his forearm, the rage in his blood pulsating under your fingers. You dug your fingertips into his tensed muscle, glancing down to where your bodies were joined together. The head of his cock pressed against the straining waistband of his trousers with every synchronised rock of your hips; a patch of wet arousal darkening the grey fabric. 

You licked your lips, returning your gaze to his eyes with a shuddering breath. You were goading him, willing him to take you—he was weak in this regard and you both knew it. You'd claim it a victory if he succumbed, though so would he.

Sebastian pushed into you hard, his stiff erection grinding against your hip bone. A moan coiled up your throat and spilled out of your mouth and the last drop of any self control he once held evaporated. 

He was gone in a flash, consumed by lust and fury with only one solution to both ailments. He ripped the waistband of your trousers, the button flying off and ricocheting off a glass table lamp with a faint ping as he tugged the garment down your hips.

It was awkward and slow with one hand still pressed against your throat. Unwilling to show him any mercy, you let him struggle until your lower half was bare, his legs pushing yours to the side until he was planted firmly between them. His hand slid between your thighs with a heavy sigh and a knowing grin.

"Oh I knew you wanted it, you're fucking soaking," he teased.

His fingers slid between your folds, circling your entrance to coat his digits with your slick arousal. His touch was surprisingly gentle, and you realised why—you'd stopped struggling against him in that moment.

"Fuck you, Sebastian," you sighed, your head spinning.

Sebastian pushed his fingers inside you, making you gasp and flinch until he started his slow pulsing, seemingly teasing the tension out of you with every press of his hand. Your muscles relaxed, the frown falling from your face as you watched his intense and concentrated expression.

How long could you hold on to your anger? You were teetering on the edge of a precipice; a decision to be made whether to flee or give in to your basal urges and fall willingly into the abyss. There'd be no turning back from Sebastian Sallow—he was possessive, intense and utterly irresistible.

You unwrapped your fingers from around his arm, pushing his holster from his shoulder. His arm twitched as he watched you, making sure you weren't about to pull his wand and blast him across the room. But as the leather fell to the floor with a thud, he finally released your throat, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss.

You scarcely could have called it a kiss—more of a battle of tongues for dominance. Whatever it was, it made your heart race and core ache and dopamine-addled brain scream out for more, more, more.

His fingers curled and pulsed inside you, drawing moans from your mouth, captured by his own. He consumed every whimper and gasp with hungry need, joining the chorus with his own deep groans as he rocked his hips, desperately seeking friction.

Loathe as you were to put him out of his misery, you wanted him too badly—his fingers, whilst thoroughly enjoyable, were a poor substitute for what he held inside his trousers. You were losing your resolve, overcome with lust. Some Auror you were.

"Fuck, Seb," you muttered.

You fiddled with his shirt buttons, revealing his burning skin, hot to the touch and flushed red under his thick hair. Deciding to deal with the repairs later, you ripped the remaining buttons open, tugging the cotton over his broad shoulders littered with bruises and the odd scar; thin lines of white tissue that refused to colour along with his blush.

Whatever possessed you to run your tongue along them probably had something to do with the increasingly rough pulsing between your legs. Sebastian shuddered and ripped his hand away from your heat, pulling open his trousers with a groan as his cock sprang free.

You drew your eyes away from his battle-worn skin to gaze down at his manhood, your eyebrows peaking and eyes softening to a begging look as you whimpered your approval. You'd almost forgotten why you were so angry. Almost, but not quite.

"Son of a bitch," you muttered, wrapping your hands around his neck to attack his mouth.

You bit his lower lip hard, the taste of iron on the tip of your tongue as you drew back, and his hands retaliated with a rough shove of your hips back into the desk, the wooden edge pressing into your behind. He leaned you back, your weight hanging by his neck and the strength of your abdomen.

His cock pressed against your sensitive and swollen clit, rubbing a teasing few strokes before gliding to your entrance and pushing inside. You cried out, a stinging sensation prickling the skin as he stretched you so suddenly and unceremoniously. His girth took some getting used to.

You took him inch by glorious inch until he could push no further and Sebastian pulled out slowly, his lips parted and dark eyes fixed upon you. Gripping the flesh around your hips, hard enough to bruise, he pulled you back onto his cock with a loud moan. Again and again and again.

Your core muscles gave out at the pounding, the pleasure rippling through you relaxing your whole body as you fell back onto the desk. You squirmed as the various clutter dug into your back, pulling the sneakoscope from under your left arm and rolling it onto the floor where it smashed with a gust of magical energy.

"First you…ruin the job," Sebastian seethed between forceful thrusts. "Then you come and…destroy my office."

"It's your fault—I'll fucking break whatever I want in here you absolute arse."

He pulled your legs up around his waist, shifting you towards him with a grunt. Your arousal dripped down his shaft, coating his carpet of curly brown hair as he continued thrusting into you, deeper and deeper. He'd settled into a rhythm, mind-numbingly perfect—steadily building the pool of tension inside you that would soon explode.

You hated that he felt so good, you were so angry at him but your body had reacted to his provocation with desire as quickly as his had. Now you were limp, a toy made only for his pleasure as he took out his frustration on you—and you fucking loved it.

The daggers you shot at him softened with every thrust of his hips, his cock slamming into you as you filled the room with pleasurable moans. Thank Merlin the Auror offices were regularly charmed to be soundproof.

His lip bled from where you'd bit him, and you knew he'd make you pay for that sooner or later, but the sight only awoke something animalistic inside you. You'd seen him bruised and covered in blood before, whether his own or someone else's—it had been the frequent subject of your fantasies; something you'd never admit.

You pulled him down on top of you and he met you in a kiss, passion pouring from his mouth with each moan, his fingers wrapped painfully around the strands of your hair. You met the pain in your scalp by dragging your nails down his bare back, causing puffy welts and staining your fingertips with his blood.

Sebastian inhaled sharply, resuming his grip on your neck as he slowed his thrusts to an agonising pace. 

"I'll make you pay for that," he whispered, gazing down at you.

You whimpered, squirming under his grip. Your vision blurred slightly as you gasped against his palm and he pulled away slightly. He denied you the air you desperately needed by kissing you again, his hand moving from your neck to trace your jaw as he resumed his previous rhythm.

The lull only served to intensify the pleasure as he started to fuck you again. You were approaching your climax and desperately sought your release, but the satisfaction it would give him would be unbearable. 

There was no averting it, he felt too good. His lips on yours were soft, warm and had that sweet metallic tang that sent your head spinning. As your tongues glided over each other and your breath turned to gasping moans into his mouth, you stilled, unable to stop the explosion if you’d tried.

Your legs shook as you met your release, clenching around Sebastian's hard length and pulling a deep groan from his throat. You were gone. Completely and utterly gone from this mortal plane. The pleasure ripped through you like a dangerous undercurrent, your body writhing as your walls contracted over and over again. 

It was bliss—here there was no anger, no thoughts of the failure you’d just endured, only Sebastian.

Sebastian slowed his pace only as you started to once again go limp, your arched back flattening onto the cold wood beneath you and your eyes fluttering as your orgasm ebbed away. He released your mouth, an unexpectedly tender moment as he brushed his lips against your cheek before pulling away.

"Are you finally going to apologise?" he asked quietly.

Your mind was still added from the explosive orgasm and it took you a few seconds to realise what he'd asked. With a fresh surge of anger, you removed your hands from his skin, stubbornly planting them on the desk next to you.

"Absolutely not."

He pulled out of you swiftly, your walls still clenching, now around nothing. You whined and shot him an incredulous look, squeezing your thighs together and shifting your hips as you rode out the last of the pulses between your legs.

"You're an arsehole, Sallow," you gasped.

Propping yourself up on your elbows, you gave him a disapproving stare, quickly growing distracted as you took in the sight before you. You'd always thought him attractive but dear Merlin was he a sight to behold.

Underneath his standard-issue Auror's uniform was the body of a man who took his job seriously. He was physically fit, muscular with a slight softness you loved. You had a dying urge to run your hands over his body, but particularly what had been inside you just moments ago.

Sebastian's cock was red, swollen and dripping in arousal—his thick white precum mixed with your own slick glistened in the soft office lighting as you stared completely unabashedly. He smirked under your lustful gaze, his hand wrapping around himself and gliding slowly along the length for your viewing pleasure.

"Time to return the favour," he said.

You gave him a deadpan glare from your exposed position on the desk.

"I could bite your cock off."

"But you won't," he said with a chuckle. "Because you want it, I can tell you're practically drooling over there."

He was right, and it was infuriating. You sat firmly on the desk, refusing to move until he grew tired of the standoff, pulling you off by the arm. You hid a smirk as you knelt on the floor, your bare knees already uncomfortable against the hard wooden boards. 

Saliva pooled in the well of your mouth as he yanked the hair tangled in his fingers, your lips parting willingly to take his head into your mouth. He tasted of you, and him; your shared passion mingled on your tongue. He shuddered as you ran your tongue along the underside of the tip, humming appreciatively as your hands trailed up his bare thighs.

Before they could go any further, Sebastian slid his hand around to the back of your head, firmly holding you in place as he started to thrust his hips. You suctioned your cheeks as he threw his head back with a deep groan, sliding his cock into your mouth further each time.

"Yes, yes. Just like that."

The sides of your lips curved in a smile as sinful moans fell from his lips, the rhythm he’d built up becoming faster and his thrusts harder. From your vantage point, he looked to be in ecstasy—his expression softened, eyebrows peaked and lips parted, muttering something unintelligible. 

The way he bucked his hips became more erratic and uncontrolled the further he slipped into bliss, every inch filling your mouth and sliding down your throat as his grip on your head became tighter and tighter. Your scalp burned, your eyes stung and throat felt thoroughly abused and yet you moaned through it all; the look on his face was reward enough.

The hands on his thighs felt his muscles tense and shake, and you knew he was approaching his peak. Both of his hands gripped your hair as he pushed his cock into your throat and held you there, the invasion making you gag as the muscles in your throat contracted around his head. Sebastian growled, holding you in place until you smacked his leg and he grinned, pulling you off coughing and spluttering with tears streaming down your cheeks. 

He wasn’t done with you yet—he still chased his release, grinding his hips against your face. The moment he looked down to meet your gaze, you knew you were a goner. The anger in his eyes had melted away, only a plea remaining. He stared down in almost reverence as he gasped through the last of his thrusts before tumbling over the edge.

His seed shot down the back of your throat and filled your cheeks; the viscous liquid came thick and fast with each pulse of his cock and you lapped it up eagerly, moaning around him all the while. Sebastian finally loosened the grip on your hair as he came down off his high with a deep sigh and you jumped at the relinquishing of control by wrapping a hand around the base of his length, teasing every last drop of his cum onto your waiting tongue.

“Fucking hell,” he groaned, continuing to watch you with ardent admiration.

With a flick of your tongue met with a shuddering gasp, you pulled your mouth away and swallowed dutifully, licking your lips as if you’d enjoyed the most satisfying meal of your life. Sebastian had slumped back on the now thoroughly ravaged desk, his hard work littering the floor and crumpled beyond recognition as you made your way to your feet.

Your skin on your knees was raw, your throat bruised and neck tingling, whilst Sebastian nursed a slightly swollen and bloody lip, his back looking like it had been attacked by a rabid animal. Despite it all, your anger had subsided to manageable levels, and hadn’t that been the point of it all? 

Pulling on your clothes, you shuddered to think of the state you were in as you scraped back your hair and smoothed out the creases in your shirt to no avail. You spotted your wand on the floor and picked it up, twirling it over in your fingers as you watched the man you hated and loved in equal measure.

“I’m still furious with you, Sebastian,” you said tiredly.

“And I’m furious with you too,” he replied with a smirk, buckling his holster.

Sebastian pulled you towards him by the waist, snaking a hand around the back of your neck as your lips met in an impassioned kiss, the last of your fight melting away. 

“Good, glad we’ve cleared that up,” you said meekly, disentangling yourself from his grasp and retreating towards the door.

You gave him a final look over your shoulder before turning the handle, meeting the devilish smile on his handsome face and realising in that moment that you were now absolutely the property of Sebastian Sallow.

Bonus audio:

[lvis44]

Sweet Escape - Pt.5 // LH44

Lewis Hamilton x Y/N

Warnings: Swearing, Derogatory Language, 18+ (mentions of sexual acts and dirty talk), Physical Violence, Jealousy, Toxicity, Alcohol Consumption, Angst, Mentions of Forced Sexual Contact (only alluded to, not done, no S/A), Not Edited

Word Count: 5.7k+

Summary: Paradise is supposed to be fun and relaxing... a Sweet Escape, but when unspoken feelings and jealousy rise to the surface, everything can be turned upside down in the blink of an eye.

Notes: My sincerest apologies for the wait and thank you all for your patience. If you thought we had drama before hand, welcome to the rodeo, it's only gotten worse. Get ready to hate Lewis a bit, but it's well deserved. I will try to get the next part up this week, hopefully before race weekend really kicks off!

I am not a professional writer and all of this is a work of fiction and is strictly for fun. Enjoy! xxx

Previous Sections: Prologue - Part One - Part Two - Part Three - Part Four

“Can we talk?”

Those words have been rattling around in your head for almost a day now, ready to burst out of you at a moment's notice but never surfacing. Lewis hasn’t approached you and you almost didn’t expect him to, he’s been acting relatively normal for the last day. It’s been more than twenty four hours since everyone went on the hike and he’s been acting as if everything is completely fine. You gave him an olive branch and he grew a tree. You didn’t even really mean to give him the room that you had, it just felt so natural, so carefree. You could tell Charlotte has been concerned, keeping an eye on you at all times, even if from a distance. Her energy is the only thing in the house that truly seems off. You and Lewis may not be interacting exactly how you normally would, but there’s no hostility, no particular avoidance of each other. There’s almost part of you that wants to throw everything out the window and just let yourselves exist in this space, whatever it may be. The other part of you was worried that this was a survival tactic on both of your parts, just trying to get through vacation and in the end it would all come crashing down around you. You couldn’t let that happen. 

You were lounging out by the pool, book in hand and a margarita nearby. The sun was warming your skin perfectly and you felt completely at peace, putting everything to the side as you engrossed yourself in the crime novel in front of you.

“You’re getting rather toasty.” You heard his voice come from next to you.

You looked up to find Lewis standing just above you, an accusatory raised brow, knowing you hadn’t applied sunblock in the last few hours. You noticed the spray can in his hand and huffed, you knew that if he’s finally acting normal with you, he would insist on you seeking shade or putting on more sunscreen.

“Fine.” You deadpanned, reaching out for the bottle as you stood up, stepping away from him in hopes of not suffocating him with sunscreen. 

You could feel his eyes on you the entire time, not in the way they usually would be though. This stare wasn’t to unabashedly check you out, his eyes weren’t undressing  you the way they may have in the past. This stare was gauging you, he was trying to look through your skull and into your brain, desperately attempting to read every thought you had on him in that moment. You knew he wouldn’t be able to read you that easily, not when you didn’t even know what your own thoughts were.

You finished applying your sunscreen turning back toward him, he quickly glanced away from you before finally making eye contact, trying to hide his previous gaze. It was no use, you already knew.

“All good?” He asked you as you handed him the bottle, once again his question was not in the context of the moment. He was asking a million different things with only two words. You didn’t know how to respond, simply settling for a small “Thanks” before returning to your seat and picking your book up once more. 

Before you fell back into your story, you noticed Charlotte send Lewis a look of warning from where she sat across the patio. You assumed she had spoken to him, he was evidently aware that she knew of the situation. Miles seemed to be picking up on the unspoken energy as well, frequently checking on you out of the corner of his eye when he thought you weren’t looking. 

As the sun began to set it was decided that the evening would be spent out. Charlotte wanted to dance and it took little convincing of the others. You quickly found yourself dressed in an outfit Charlotte had insisted you wear, an earthy toned dress with a cutout just above your belly button and a twist of fabric in between your breasts. You felt good, it hugged every curve perfectly and was just short enough that it showed off your thighs but still long enough you weren't concerned about flashing anyone. Once you were ready it didn't take long before you were being ushered into a waiting sprinter van. The drive would be incredibly short but none of you trusted yourselves to walk home later in the night, a chauffeur being a much better option. You were admittedly a bit anxious about the evening, knowing what nights out like this could quickly turn into. After a night of drinking and partying, it was rare that Lewis went home alone, but it was even rarer that he was able to keep his hands and attention off of you throughout the night, even when entertaining other company.

Many nights had been spent in dark, sweaty night clubs, everyone dancing, drinking, and laughing. People would usually end up invading your group, always drawn toward Lewis. He rarely turned down the attention, his ego thriving on it. Despite the women that would usually surround him, he always found a way to get to you. Pulling you to the dance floor when a song he knew you liked came on, bringing you drinks when he noticed yours was getting low, pulling you to the side to check if you were okay with attention you had drawn from another man. He always made sure you were okay and having fun, even if he was chatting up a random woman or women in an attempt to not spend his night alone. You had always noted his playboy activities, not really caring but finding them rather amusing. The women he was with never seemed to notice or truly didn’t care, as long as they got their one night with the godlike man. Many times you found yourself dancing with him, possibly closer than you should but he was never disrespectful about it, his hands would always roam but never to a point that you felt like he was truly trying something. You had never really thought anything of it seeing as you would frequently dance with Miles or Daniel too, they were always more reserved but you always chalked it up to personalities. Everyone danced with everyone, it’s how it always worked and it was always fun. Now you found yourself wondering just how your night would play out, how different things would be. He had been acting so comfortably around you recently that you worried he would be the same as always, but at the same time you kind of hoped it would stay the same.

The bar was partially indoors and partially outdoors, a large dance floor spanning from the patio into the open wall leading inside. It was positioned perfectly on the beach, giving a nice view of the moon's reflection off the ocean water. The music was notably louder indoors than it was out and you found yourselves claiming a table on the patio. Lewis and Miles had beelined to the bar, fighting over who was starting the tab as they ordered a round of tequila shots. Lewis seemingly won the argument, making his way to the table with a smug look on his face while Miles followed behind, certainly less amused. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the two men, grown adults who still seemed like teenagers half the time. Miles plopped down next to you, his arm draping over the back of your chair as he leaned back. You hadn’t noticed it at first but he slid a drink in front of you, matching his own.

“You seem like you could use a head start.” He said as he leaned down closer to your ear, making it so only you could hear him.

He pulled back with a large smile, bringing his own drink into the air, leaning it towards yours for a ‘cheers’.

“Here’s to having a fucking blast.” He said to you, everyone else distracted in their own conversation.

You smiled, grateful for his energy as you met his glass with your own before taking a much welcome sip of what turned out to be a Mojito. The shots arrived shortly after, everyone eagerly grabbing them. As everyone met their glasses in the middle of the table Miles once again repeated his toast, much louder this time, being met with hoots and hollers from your friends before downing their shots. You knew it was silly, but in that moment you wanted to freeze time. This was what you had wanted this vacation to be, carefree fun with people you loved. In no time at all Charlotte had pulled you and Miles out onto the floor, jumping and dancing in an uncoordinated way that made the both of you laugh but eventually join her in her antics. You had noticed that Lewis had disappeared indoors, you assumed in search of another drink, but you did your best to ignore it, hoping to just have fun. 

You weren’t sure how much time had passed but you didn’t care, your face hurt from smiling so much and your stomach was tight from laughter. You felt light, a few more drinks in your system loosening you up quite a bit. You had left your friends at the dancefloor, heading to find a bathroom with Steph. The two of you were in a fit of giggles, apologizing as you bumped into other tipsy patrons. Your stomach flipped when you saw him, he had been gone for most of the evening. Lewis was leaning up against the bar, a warm smile and kind eyes directed at the bar tender. You could see the alcohol he had consumed across his face, his eyes lazier than normal but still as charming as ever. The woman he was talking to was absolutely beautiful, an equally warm smile on her own face. They looked familiar with each other, you watched as she reached out to squeeze his hand as she laughed, his face lighting up as well. Your mind wandered back to the night he had disappeared after the blow up with Talia. He had told you that he had gone to a bar nearby, went home with one of the hostesses. You still don’t know what truly happened that night, having heard him tell Charlotte a much different story, one that confused you even more. Was he really already finding someone to sleep with?

“Bitch, you comin’?” Stephs voice pulled you out of your trance, a drunken smile on her face as she waited for you.

“I need some air.” You said quickly, turning around and rushing back out to the patio.

You weren’t looking where you were going, just needing to get out of the room as soon as possible. You only stopped when you crashed into a broad frame, a cold drink running down your chest.

“Fuck.” You yelped. The ice felt like it could sizzle against your hot skin.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” A man's voice rushed out, “you okay? Here let me get some napkins.”

“It’s my fault, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” You almost laughed, still looking down to assess the damage to your dress.

When you finally did look up at the man who was now offering you stacks of napkins, you were stunned. He was painfully handsome, tan skin, big brown eyes, and a beautiful smile. You immediately noticed the similarities to Lewis and you wanted to slap yourself for even making the comparison. 

“Not that it makes it any better, but it was just Vodka Soda so at least it won’t stain.” He laughed kindly, still handing you napkins, so many more than you needed.

“It’s fine, it cooled me off.” You joke, enjoying the distraction from the beautiful stranger. 

“How about I get you a drink to make it up to you?” He offered, still standing rather close to you.

“You know what, I’ll take you up on that.” You laughed again, amused at the turn of events. 

Before he could even step away you felt the presence of someone next to you, then a large hand on your back. You turned to see Miles, his eyes assessing you before turning to your new friend.

“We having a good time over here?” Miles asked, his eyes shifting back to you to gauge your response.

“Yeah,” You nodded with a smile, “Miles, this is, um.” You stuttered as you realized you didn’t even know his name yet.

The man laughed, “Jaden.” He stuck his hand out toward Miles, offering a handshake.

“Nice to meet you man, I’m Miles, Y/N’s bodyguard.” He said teasingly as he returned the handshake. You knew he was only half joking and you could tell Jaden was aware as well.

“Good to see she’s got people looking out for her.” Jaden acknowledged, a kind smile on his face.

“Why don’t you guys come join us, we’re just outside.” Miles nodded his head back towards your table where you could see Charlotte  and Steph watching the situation.

Charlotte wiggled her eyebrows at you over Miles’ shoulder, mouthing a ‘wow’ as she looked Jaden over. You couldn’t help but giggle, returning your attention to the men in front of you. You knew Miles’ offer was his way of letting you have fun and keeping an eye on you, or moreso keeping an eye on Jaden.

“Sounds good to me, I was just gonna grab Y/N and I some drinks and then I’ll be right over.” Jaden said, nodding eagerly at the idea of spending more time with you.

“I was headed to the bar myself, why don’t I join you.” Miles said before directing his attention back to you, “You wanna go find Char back at the table and we’ll be right over?”

You nodded, smiling at him before telling Jaden you would see him in just a moment. You watched for a second as they got up to the bar, noting how Miles perched himself directly next to Jaden, keeping an eye on your drink like a poppa bear. You smiled to yourself, amused but grateful for how protective he could be. Instead of immediately heading to the table you passed it, stepping out onto the sand and slightly out toward the ocean. The music was quieter and you could hear the ocean better. You let the cool ocean breeze wash over you, grateful for the moment of brief peace. It wasn’t allowed to last long as you heard the familiar accent from behind you, slightly lazy with his words from the alcohol.

“I usually keep your glass full, sorry, I’ve been slacking tonight.” Lewis said, coming to stand beside you with a glass extended in your direction.

When you turned to look at him he had a lazy smirk on his face, once again gesturing the glass toward you to take. You knew it would be a gin and tonic, your favorite.

“It’s been more of a tequila and rum kind of night.” You say, unsure how to reject his offer.

“Really?” Is all he says, an amused tint to his voice.

You're not sure not to navigate this situation with him, unclear if it's the alcohol that is making him act so calm or if it's that he truly thinks everything is back to normal. You don’t have to sit in silence for long as Jaden comes up next to you, just as Lewis is opening his mouth to speak.

“There you are, Miles has your drink back at the table.” Jaden says, coming in rather close to you and placing his hand on your lower back. You feel as if it's a way of making sure Lewis knows that he is your company for the rest of the night, marking territory that isn’t rightfully his. You should, but you don’t brush him off, enjoying the way that Lewis tenses when he sees the action.

“You are?” Lewis asks, a noticeable gruffness to his tone.

“Jaden, Y/N's new friend.” Jaden's smile is cocky, like he can tell Lewis is displeased.

“Well, it sounds like you’re good on drinks then.” Lewis says to you, ignoring Jaden after giving him a once over. His voice is clipped and almost condescending, if you were a worse person you would slap him, but instead you just roll your eyes as he turns on his heel and walks away without another word.

“Who was that?” Jaden asks you once Lewis is out of earshot.

You’re rather amused that he doesn’t know, it’s a rarity that Lewis is unknown but you can’t help but enjoy it.

“Don’t worry about it, he’s just an ass.” You say brushing the subject off as you grab his hand and head back toward the table.

When you arrive Lewis is once again nowhere to be seen and you see Miles with two drinks in front of him, the full glass directly in front of his chest, kept close to him.

“For me?” You point at the glass with a giggle.

“For you.” He says with a laugh and a wink, extending the glass to you.

“Come on, let’s go dance.” Jaden says in your ear, gently pulling you toward the dance floor.

“Go have fun.” Charlotte tells you enthusiastically, wiggling her eyebrows at you again. You can’t help but laugh, allowing yourself to be pulled out to the floor.

You let yourself get loose, dancing up against him as his hand without his drink wanders across your stomach, pulling you close to him. You can feel a growing bulge against your ass as you dance with him, allowing him to nibble on your neck as you lean your head against his shoulder. The dance floor begins to crowd, everyone dancing with each other as their drinks kick in. You’ve moved further away from your table now but you can’t bring yourself to care. You catch a glimpse of Lewis out of the corner of your eye, he’s taking another tequila shot, licking the salt off of a blonde woman's neck. You roll your eyes, used to his antics, trying not to let it bother you. You have no right to be bothered, you’re acting just like him. You turn around to face Jaden, resting your arms over his shoulder as you lean in closer, your hips still moving with his. He leans down, placing another kiss to your neck before coming up in front of you, moving in toward your lips. You let him kiss you, there’s no fire, you don’t melt into it, but it feels nice. In the back of your head there’s an annoyance, angered that you're comparing his kiss to Lewis. You break from the kiss, turning back around to continue grinding on him. You hear him groan into your ear and it does nothing to you, you are a little turned on but nothing like Lewis had you in half the time. As the thought crosses your mind you open your eyes and immediately connect with his. Lewis is across the dance floor, a blonde woman dancing on him in a very similar way, but his full attention is on you. His eyes are filled with lust and you want to tell yourself it’s all from the woman grinding on him but you can’t help but feel that’s not entirely true. You don’t know how long he’s been watching you but you know it’s been a while. As you study his face, you see it, anger. You look away from him, turning your attention back to Jaden who is getting more explorative with his hands. This isn’t like you, letting a stranger feel you up in the middle of a club, but you can’t help but feel like you deserve the fun, deserve the thrill. It is vacation after all.

“Fuck babygirl.” Jaden whispers in your ear, his hand squeezing your hip.

He pulls away slightly, downing his drink as you do the same.

“I’ll get another round,” He says over the music, “you stay right here.”

You just nod, carrying on with your dancing. It’s not long before you know Lewis is there. When you turn around, he’s much closer than you expected, his chest almost touching yours. As if he’s allowed to, he grabs your hips, pulling you into him.

“What the hell has gotten into you, hmm?” He asks, his lips coming down to your ear.

He’s guiding you to dance with him, your singular attempt to push him away futile. His body up against yours feels better than it should and you let your alcohol foggy brain enjoy it for a moment. He feels better up against you than Jaden had and you hate it.

“Letting some random man dance with you like that?” He continues, his voice taunting, “Why would you go do something like that when I’m right here?”

He turns you around, pulling you even closer to him so your ass is right against his crotch. You feel it again, that same bulge that you felt the other day in his bedroom, the same one that had you weak in the knees with desire. You do your best to push past it, not wanting to let him win as you realize you already are.

“Because you’re you Lewis.” You sigh out, your voice betraying you as he leans down to nibble on your neck, much the same way Jaden just had. Unfortunately you can’t help but note that the way Lewis does it feels so much better. You try to put some space between you two but his grip is firm.

“What's that supposed to mean? You seemed to be enjoying it when I had you whimpering on my fingers, just think about what my cock would feel like. I would take such good care of you Y/N. I’d make you feel so, so good. Have that pretty pussy creaming all over me, over and over again. And fuck, I just know you taste like heaven, want you soaking my beard, letting me drink you up. You want that?” His rambling into your neck is breathy, working himself up as he talks. You know he’s drunk, can hear it in his voice. You want to push him away but you’re just as drunk and his promises sound like heaven on earth. What you don’t know is the mean game that he’s playing, he knows Jaden can see you, your head on Lewis’ shoulder as he palms at your tit. He’s making sure that Jaden knows you’re his whether you are or not. His ego and his jealousy a raging fire. He licks at your neck reminding you of the women he was with just a moment ago.

“Mmmm, the blonde didn’t work out for you I see.” You taunt him, making sure he’s thoroughly aware you saw him. You know he knows but you feel the need to rub it in.

“I could take her into the bathroom right now if I wanted to and we both know that, but right now I want you.” He groans the end of his sentence into your neck as he pulls you in hard against him.

You fight against everything within you that wants to let him take you home and make good on his promises. You know deep down it's a horrible idea and even what you’ve allowed him to do so far has only worsened the situation, you know you'll regret it in the morning.

“That’s exactly the problem, it’s just right now.” You say as you finally push him away, putting distance between you as you turn around to face him. His eyes are dark and he’s breathing heavy, he looks so painfully turned on that you're half tempted to put him out of his misery, but he made sure you knew that you weren't the only one who could do so.

“No, not just right now, always.” He shakes his head, trying to step towards you again but you back up, your hand in front of you, “I always want you, always have.”

You’re unaware that Jaden had started to make his way back over to you, getting closer by the second, already pissed off by what he just saw.

“We’re not having this conversation when you’re this drunk Lewis.” Your head sobering up a bit at his words, confusion running through your body.

“Baby, please just hear me out.” He pleads with you.

“This isn’t the time or the place for whatever the hell this is. You don’t get to do this just because your horny and want a quick fuck. I’ve seen you with multiple women tonight so don’t come over here and attempt to ruin our friendship.” Your voice is harsh, trying to get your point across. 

“Oh so it’s entirely my fault? You let me have you for thirty seconds and then decide that I’m the bad guy when you get just enough? You’re a fucking tease. You could have stopped me the other day, you could have stopped me right now, but instead you indulge, get just enough for a thrill and then tell me I’m an asshole.” His voice is equally as harsh, alcohol induced anger bubbling to the surface.

“Really? You think that’s what I’m doing? Indulging in my best friend taking advantage of me?” Your voice is getting louder now and you notice some heads turning towards you. You know that saying he’s taking advantage of you is harsh and definitely a bit of an exaggeration but it felt the best way to get your point across.

You see his face twinge at the comment before softening, you can see the remorse across his features.

“Is there a problem over here?” Jaden's voice comes from behind you.

You had almost entirely forgotten about him, too distracted by Lewis.

“How about you mind your business man.” Lewis says, looking past you towards the man.

“Well if it involves my girl I think it’s my business.” Jaden says, stepping up behind you.

Lewis’ scoff is loud as you almost laugh, “Your girl?” You both say in unison.

“Fuck off dude, I know you saw how she was dancing with me, your times up, move on.” Lewis continues and you wish you could muzzle him right now.

“Well from the sounds of things she wasn’t particularly enjoying it, and it sounds like that's not the first time.” Jaden says, stepping in front of you slightly. 

“It’s not like that, it came out wrong.” You try your best to reason with Jaden, grabbing his arm in an attempt to stop him from moving any further.

“Sure as hell didn’t sound it.” Jaden's voice is stern as he stares Lewis down.

Jaden is a few inches taller than Lewis, not by much but it's just noticeable. Lewis however is much more built, broad shoulders and biceps the size of both of Jaden's combined. You can tell Lewis is posturing, returning Jadens stare with just as much intensity. It worries you, you know Lewis is already pissed off and very drunk. You’ve never seen him be physical, hell you’ve barely ever seen him truly angry, but you’ve heard stories from his past, you know he can fight and he will never allow himself to be backed into a corner.

“How about you let my friend and I deal with our own problems mate.” Lewis bites.

“From how she talks about you I don’t think you’re exactly her fucking friend.” Jaden says, taking yet another step forward, brushing off your grasp on his arm.

“Guys, this is stupid. Lewis let’s just go.” You say, attempting to step around Jaden to get Lewis out of the bar before this escalates any further.

Before you can do that though, Jaden grabs your arm firmly, keeping you in place, “You’re not going anywhere with this jackass.”

Lewis’ eyes snap down to where your being held, the grip way too tight, “Get your fucking hands off of her, now.”

You wriggle your arm in his grasp, Jaden still not letting up.

“I said, get your fucking hands off of her, NOW.” Lewis’ voice is much louder than before as he steps forward. You're starting to attract attention and you're praying that in everyone's drunken stupor they don’t recognize the racing driver about to start a bar fight.

“Get off of me.” You try again to wriggle free from his grasp, him finally letting you go. You approach Lewis putting your hand on his chest, trying to push him towards the exit.

“Are you okay?” His voice has softened significantly, you can still hear the anger though.

“I’m fine, let’s just go.” You try again to get him out of the door before more people start paying attention. He doesn’t listen, instead grabs your hand gently, bringing it up in front of him to see the red mark around your forearm, the fingerprints firmly marked.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Lewis roars over your shoulder at Jaden.

“Lewis, please,” You plead desperately, “it doesn’t matter, let's just go home.”

“He fucking hurt you and you’re saying it doesn’t matter?” His tone is incredulous as he looks at you baffled, clearly not letting up.

“Bro, what the fuck’s going on over here.” Miles' voice comes from behind you and you thank god for your savior in that moment.

“This fucking douchebag was forcing himself on Y/N.” Jaden spits out, clearly thinking Miles will be on his side, unaware of the relationship.

“I highly fucking doubt it.” Miles says, disgust in his voice as he makes his way over toward where you and Lewis stand.

“She said it her fucking self dude, great fucking body guard you are.” Jaden says sarcastically, referencing his comment when they were introduced.

“What’s going on Y/N?” Miles says softly, coming to where you're still pressed against Lewis, trying your best to either calm him or hold him back.

“Nothing, we just need to leave.” You say firmly.

Miles nods, trying to grab Lewis’ arm to pull him to the door, knowing he won’t back down on whatever has him so mad, “Come on man, it’s not worth it.”

“Let’s just go home.” You say calmly, rubbing his chest, hoping to ease him.

Lewis reluctantly lets Miles start to pull him away, keeping his arm around you to keep you as close as possible to him. You don’t fight him on it, it’s not the time.

“Jesus, you’re really going home with that fuck? I guess a slut gets what’s coming to her.” Jaden scoffs.

His comment makes you stop, every ounce of your being wanting to turn around and punch him in the face, but you don’t get the chance, Miles is already on the move. His fist makes direct contact with Jadens cheek, knocking him to the side and almost taking him off his feet. Much to your surprise, it’s Lewis who springs forward and pulls Miles back, grunting something into his ear as he restrains him, pulling him backwards.

“What the fuck!” Charlotte screams, just approaching the situation.

“Fuck you, you’re all fucking insane.” Jaden yells, gripping his jaw, no one in the crowd even moving to help him.

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Lewis grits out, pulling Miles back as he moves to grab for you as well. 

Charlotte pays no mind, questioning Miles, “Miles, what the fuck was that, I’ve never seen you hit someone, what the fuck is going on?”

“Not now Charlotte.” Lewis says, somehow having become the calm one in the situation. Tears are streaming down your face as Lewis just about carries you out of the bar, Charlotte trailing along behind. You have no idea where everyone else is but right now you want to be as far away as possible.

The second your outside Lewis puts you down, cupping your face as you cry in front of him. He walks you away from the crowd outside the enterance before he pulls you hard into his chest, stroking your hair, letting you cry into his shirt.

“You're okay, it’s all okay.” He hushes you, trying to calm you down.

“No, it’s not all okay,” You suddenly scream at him as you push yourself off his chest, stepping away from him, your emotions from the last week have reached a peak, “neither of you, ever and I mean ever try to fucking fight someone for me again.”

You’re pointing hard at Lewis and Miles, who has since approached to check on you.

“Y/N-” Lewis tries to start.

“No, you don’t get to say the shit that you did or do the shit that you did and then try to fucking white knight all the sudden just because you’re jealous.” You scream at him.

“Baby, I just want to make sure you're okay.” Lewis pleads.

“Well I’m not,” You scream back, “none of this is okay. It hasn’t been since you tried to fuck me Lewis, I haven’t been okay. You have to have known that somewhere in the fucked up little brain of yours. And then you go and try to do it again? And even worse, blame me? Fuck you.”

Your words stop him dead in his tracks, you can see his mind reeling and guilt washing over his face.

“Honey-” Charlotte is slowly approaching you, trying to reason with you.

You don’t let her continue, “And both of you,” you direct your attention towards Miles who still seems to be in shock by your admission, “never fucking do that again, I’ll be damned if I see someone I love get hurt for me. I’ll let you know if I need help, don’t take it upon your fucking selves, I’m grown I can handle myself.”

Miles opens his mouth to speak but is evidently at a loss for words. Charlotte has stopped as well, unsure how to handle you in the moment.

“You know what, fuck this, I’m going home.” You say, tears still streaming down your cheeks as you throw your hands in the air, turning down towards the road to the house.

“Y/N please at least wait for the car, don’t walk home alone.” You hear Lewis call towards you, you can hear him following after you.

“Don’t” You whip around to yell at him, “do not follow me, please just fucking leave me alone.”

You turn back around, making your way down the road, no one follows you, leaving you in silence. 

All you want to do is crumble into the ground and not get back up.

[grapejuicestyless]

No One Wants To Die In The End.

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: United through grief, Harry and Y/n have to navigate the same fates they witnessed as young children as understanding adults. After all, no one wants to die in the end, we can only hope death comes easy for us.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

I hear my mother ask in a hushed tone, the nurse who came to send my grandma away giving her a tight lipped smile.

I sit on the bed pretending not to be able to hear them, pretending the sound of my grandma choking on her own saliva is normal and the staggering of her breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while I tell her all about what I learned in fourth grade.

She doesn’t remember me, not much anyway. Ever since the illness started taking pieces of her brain, I’ve been stuck in time. She only knows my name now, and my mom warned me on the way here today not to cry if she couldn’t even remember that. It was her illness forgetting, not my beloved grandma.

Mom says she loved me with all my heart, and that once the illness passes through her, she’ll remember me again fondly. I’ll get to tell her all about my life and growing up and she’ll understand what I’m talking about. She won’t give me the blank stare she does now while I hold her hand, and her skin won’t be so frail.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.” The nurse says, and though my mom doesn’t cry, I can see her skin hugging her throat constricting it and the soft fluttering of her wet eyelashes.

My mom pulled me away soon after, telling me to say goodbye. This time felt different though, even at age nine I knew that. So I told my grandma I’d be back, even if I wasn’t sure just because it always made her smile, and I promised to keep dancing around in my pajamas before breakfast like she loved.

That day at school, the one after I left my grandma with hundreds of promises to live freely and trust with my heart, I found my mother sat out on the front steps by our old white porch with her head in my hands.

“Hi mama. Can I go to Megans?” I had asked her cheerfully, excited about seeing my best friend, my neighbor and my sister.

Mom had this sad look in her eyes, one that told me to come close without her having to say it. And as I stood between her bent knees and felt her hands on my hips, I saw her shake her head.

“Y/n/n, grandma didn’t make it, baby.” She declared softly, and at the time I didn’t know how to process it, the idea of someone being gone forever. As mom told me how she had only left for a minute to go home and shower and came back to my grandma unresponsive in her sleep, I didn’t think about the fact that my grandma’s laugh would fade with the years, but rather how sad it was that she had to go alone. I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

I didn’t tell mom this, my feelings on the death of grandma, the death of her mom, so I did what I knew how to do best, and I ran, begging softer this time to be able to go across the street just until dinner.

When I got there, I was greeted by Megan, and she looked sad. That’s how most people in my life seemed to look these past few hours, ever since the way my grandma breathed changed.

She pulled me into a hug and cried on my shoulder, promising to be there for me always, that it would get better. At the time I didn’t get it, why my best friend as a child would feel so much grief for a woman she barely knew, how she could feel so much more than I did, but grief hits differently in every person, I wished that someday I’d be able to process it openly instead of suppressing it somewhere I’d never find it. I wished that someday I’d learn how to cry.

Grandma didn’t get a funeral, they stuffed her ashes into a pretty vase with golden birds and her favorite flowers and held the wake early in the morning. Most of her friends I’d never met. It was a small service, a slow one. I spent most of my time playing hide and seek with my cousins and stealing the mints the funeral home left out for guests while my mother cried shaking each guests hand.

“How should we send out the letters?” My mom whispered to my father quietly, like it was something she didn’t want her children to know about.

“What’s the difference? Word spreads fast about people like him.”

People like him, that’s how my dad worded it. People like him, veterans who fought in a war they couldn’t even remember by the end of their lives and refused to replace the old wood paneling on their living room walls from the eighties.

My grandpa was the definition of people like him, he had lived enough lives to grow in white hairs by fourteen years old. Fighting alongside Elvis in the war and dancing with his dying wife in the afternoon.

I never met grandma, my dad said cancer took her before I was born, he says that’s why my name is the way it is, she picked it. But, I did meet grandpa.

He had white hair and a soft stomach from all the Swedish meatballs he made in his spare time. War does funny things like that to a man, make someone so against cooking love the simplicity of it, the safety of food consuming him.

I never really liked his Swedish meatballs, I didn’t like how he made them without sauce, when I was ten my world revolved around marinara sauce.

When I was twelve years old, I remember missing the softness of my grandpas stomach when he hugged me and the lingering smell of Swedish meatballs in his kitchen at dinner time. Which was weird because I never liked it before, but maybe my nose had changed while grandpa was changing in his own ways.

Cancer seemed to run in the family, something that was so small nobody ever suspected it was invading their bodies until the doctors became frantic to get it out.

My grandpa has bright white hair before his treatment, and small silver glasses perches on his swollen nose while he sat in his old brown chair and watched his grandkids school plays through the CD’s my parents would send him.

What a lonely life to live as he got older. The death of his wife and the absence of his grandchildren as they became less and less interested in family time and more focused on running outside freely with their friends.

I was so sidetracked I didn’t even know when grandpa died right away. Not until my father sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch where I laid with my mother rubbing his back slowly, a heavy look on his wrinkled face.

“Grandpa passed last night, Harry. He loved you very much.”

I didn’t cry as my father spoke, simply nodding before walking to my room to toy with my baseball cards and gameboy. I didn’t cry thinking about his passing, which confused me because I was twelve. I understood what death meant and how there was no one who had the power to reverse it, but I felt incapable of crying.

I went to school the next morning like my parents hadn’t told me the news, and my history teacher pulled me out into the hall during second period. He looked sad for me, his hands on my shoulders as he told me he would give me all the time I needed, not to try snd jump back into normalcy during such a tough time.

It made me feel embarrassed, which felt weird considering the context. I felt fine, completely indifferent to something I should have been breaking down over. But I guess grief is weird like that, and I wish I had the strength to be weak.

Grandpa had a big funeral, open casket with formal attire. He didn’t look like grandpa with all that makeup on him. I wanted to open his eyelids to see the colors in his eyes one last time. But that’s unacceptable to do, so I simply kneeled by the casket and prayed for him.

A big black limo took us from the boiling hot church to the graveyard where uniformed men loaded their guns and fired at the sky in honor of my grandpa. The smoke smelled like the low tide at the beach, and some people I’d never seen before sobbed a few rows behind me.

A lot of people showed up for grandpa, veterans from around the country and school friends from when he still had all his youth. Looking around at the crowd, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

“When did you find out?” Harry asked softly, his large hand capturing mine in a paw-like grip over my knuckles.

I swallowed, wondering when I suspected it in comparison to when I finally got the guts to ask someone for help.

“I’ve known for a while, probably since I was nine. It runs in the family, you know? All these health issues that eat away at our brains?” I laughed, but neither of us found it funny, not when I ran my fingers through my hair to calm down and chunks cane out between my knuckles.

“I just thought I’d be gifted more time, thought biology would be kinder to my bones.”

Harry looks at me with a broken stare, one that hits me in the heart. We both tear up, but neither of us cry. We are our parents, we are the spitting image of them sitting us down to break the news. But at least they went peacefully, right? I know no peace, but still I don’t cry for myself, I feel too pathetic to even try.

“Did I do something wrong?” I ask, looking bitterly at the youthful green eyes in front of me, how his curly hair seems even more vibrant than nearly a decade ago. He ages backwards and I am already one foot out of the door.

Harry shakes his head.

“You did everything right.” He tells me, fingers pulling the hair from my hands to hide it behind his back.

“Then why do I feel like I have?”

“Nobody wants to die in the end, Y/n/n. It’s a game of chance, each day we live we gamble on how long we have left. Some people search for that end and others stumble on it accidentally, it’s just the chances.”

When he puts it like that, it makes me feel even worse, knowing how quickly I’ll be gone. How I’ve failed my future children I’ll never get to have, my husband who would have loved me I’m sure, and my poor old dog who waits by the food bowl only to find it empty each day I’m gone.

“I don’t like these chances.” I laugh with tears in my eyes, hands holding onto his as our forehead touch, my best friend holding me like no one ever has, not even Megan, who had long grownup into a woman I barely knew, a friend who drifted from me when we were thirteen and cried to her mother about how she missed me when she was sixteen.

Megan held me when my grandma died that day when I was nine, and I was confused as to why she was so sad, but with Harry holding me now, I understand it all better.

“I’m only twenty nine, Harry. At least my grandmothers dementia took away the intense pain of remembering what she was leaving behind.”

“And she lived not knowing who her daughter was for the rest of her life. She must have been so alone.”

I look down at my lap, my palms still pressed against his.

“I’d never forget you, even if my memory starts to go. I’ll never forget you because you’re too important to forget.” Harry smiles when I say that, pulling his hands away from mine to tap his chest quietly.

“And I’d never forget you, even when I’m old and crazy. I’ll keep photos of us on my walls and talk to them when I get bored.” He promised me, the dull light from the sun making the once lavish room feel less like a clean living room and more like a cold hospital.

As the months pass, my hair has been traded for one of Harry’s favorite hats. My shirts switched out for backless gowns with blue dots on the paper like material. My arms are not decorated with the same ink as Harry, but wires and tubes that come from the table beside my hospital bed.

I am twenty nine, but I must look about sixty now with how tired I am from simply trying to steal back the life that was ripped from me unfairly.

And as I fight to keep up with the beeping of the monitors hooked up beside me, I feel my throat rejecting my saliva and my sick coughs stuck behind my teeth.

I heat the same cracking sounds that my grandmother made when I was nine, and I feel relaxed knowing now that it doesn’t hurt to breathe this way, not right now anyway.

And in the silence I can hear an echo of my mother’s words from outside my door, her feminine voice exchanged for the deep one I’d grown rather fond of.

“Has anyone ever survived beyond the death rattle breathing?”

Harry asks in a hushed tone, the nurse different but her answer just the same.

“We usually recommend getting everything in place by the end of the day. Gather her papers and say your goodbyes. We can’t guarantee anything with how much longer she’ll hold out for.”

It’s happening again, the spirit leaving my bones to join everyone I’ve ever loved before, my father and my grandma. My mother and my old cousins. I only wished I didn’t have to leave Harry behind, I wished I could dance with him in our college dorms just one more time like we used to, and set fire to the box mac and cheese just one last time.

I remember everything about Harry, the nurse warning that my image of him might waver as my blood begins to slow under the skin. She tells him not to worry when my skin gets cold, it’s natural for people to cool down as their heart gives out.

Harry comes in and holds my hand, pretending the sound of my breathing doesn’t bother him and the sound of me choking on my own saliva is normal and the staggering of my breathing between heavy wheezes isn’t concerning while he swears to every single higher power he can think of that I’ll be okay.

And I believe him.

Because while he holds my hand in death, he’s fulfilled the one wish I prayed so hard for a a kid. The one selfish wish I made for myself in a time of need.

When I was nine, standing between my mothers legs with my nails between my teeth I prayed selfishly under my breath that I would have someone’s hand to hold when I went, that my rotting body would mean more than any shower ever could.

And here Harry was nearly two decades later, holding my hand and promising serenity in the afterlife.

What he doesn’t know is that I am one of the lucky ones. Even after my heart has stopped, I am given one last gift as an apology for such a short life. I am given an extra second of my brain living on, the soft cries of “I love you’s” from Harry the last thing I hear as my dying gasp is cut short from my death rattle breathing.

I have a small service, Harry and some college friends standing in line shaking the hands of the few guests who walk by to look at my body. My nephews and nieces play hide and seek with each other until the ceremony was over, mints stuffed deep in their pockets as they filed out of the funeral home like nothing had happened.

Being famous is weird, especially after a loved one has passed.

We send out prayers to the families of those affected, the media says, but how has the death of this person affected Harry? How has Y/n’s slipping away crushed him beyond belief? Will he dedicate his next album to her?

They don’t care about Y/n, they only care about how she makes a good headline for their companies, and it makes me sick to think about. How they profit off of my grief while I try to stop memorizing the sound of her broken sigh as she went.

I wonder if I was enough for her during her final days. If my touch was enough to cure her for just a brief second.

It’s no wonder I turned to move-on pills. Ones that lift me up and break me down further until I am face up on the bathroom floor we once shared, my eyes wide as I choke on my breathing and count how many times the lights multiply as I look up to the sky.

It’s not a shock that the headlines are out by the end of the day, the sirens enough to alert all of Hollywood of my dying dreams and my perfect execution.

My family stands in a line while they put my casket into the hearse, makeup on my face like they put on my grandpa, I can barely recognize myself as I watch the funeral service from another space.

And as they bury me under the ground, the media announces their grief and well wishes to all that attended and the millions watching from their televisions.

As a kid, I hoped I too would be able to make such a big impact on so many people. I selfishly prayed under my breath that one day I’d too have a large funeral. That people would care enough to come and cry for me because I would matter that much.

But now that it’s happening, I only care for one thing, I only asked for one thing in the letter I left behind. Lay me beside my best friend, so I can keep holding her hand through death, and we can laugh in the afterlife like we did when we were healthy, happy, and together.