#being home all day is fucking SICK n cruel

[nereidprinc3ss]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question born of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[girlrose]

its that time of night where i compulsively hurt my own feelings!!!!!!!!

[ladykibutsuji]

Human! Muzan Kibutsuji Headcanons

SFW | NSFW

• Premise: You are the beloved wife of Muzan Kibutsuji, although it was a arranged marriage your love for Muzan Kibutsuji was real. so what is it exactly like being his wife?

{SFW}

- Muzan always hated the fact that he have a sickness that is almost impossible to cure so he is always mad about it leading to him having such a nasty personality.

- He mostly takes his anger out on his own Servants and his doctor to whom he refer to as 'Fraudulent Doctor'

- In the beginning, Muzan despised you and didn't want to be near you.

- "Why the fuck do I even need a wife? She's as useless as the servants!"

- You dislike his nasty personality but you also understood that he's only mad about his illness that he takes his anger out on others.

- Despite Muzan's cruel words and actions, you have continued to look after him no matter how hard he tries to push you away.

- But as time goes on, Muzan started to appreciate the love and care that he is receiving from you

- And eventually he developed feelings for you

- He'd still be tough on you, but not so tough.

- Sometimes when he notices how tired you are, he wouldn't say cruel words towards you like what he usually does but instead he would be quiet

- In the end, you would notice that he's too quiet so you started asking him questions if he's okay

- He would get mad at you for asking such a question

- "Do I look okay? I have a fucking illness you dumb woman! just shut the fuck up and rest for the day"

- His sentence got you confused, You don't even know whether he's being cruel or nice

- When it comes to drinking medicine, he would make a huge fuss over it saying that it wouldn't even work but when it's you he would just drink it quietly he would still roll his eyes at you though or let out a 'tch' sound

- He only wants YOU to take care of him and refuses to let anyone else to take the spot

- the only time he lets anyone else do it is when you are sick

- since his body is weak he couldn't really take you out on fancy dates

- but sometimes when he feels like having a date with you he would make his servants cook and prepare a romantic table just for the two of you at home

- Muzan's favorite thing to do is to cuddle with you, he won't admit it but he really enjoys your company and touch

- although he wouldn't really ask directly, he would stare deeply into your eyes in silent with a >:| face

- "Do you need anything?"

- "You already know what I want"

- Aside Muzan's nasty personality, he also have a soft personality that only YOU have access to

- When muzan can't sleep at late night, you and him would have a conversation about life and would often be joking around with each other

- "Would you find someone else if I died?"

- "Don't say stuffs like that, You will survive you just have to believe in yourself"

- "Don't be so dramatic Y/N. it's just a what if, I want to hear your honest answer."

- "No, I don't want to... I'd rather stay at your grave for hours!"

- "Just hours?"

- "No, I'll live in your grave"

- "Good"

- That conversation right there is one of the rare moments you have with him since 99% of the time he's an asshole to you and his servants mostly his doctor

- "Y/N, When my illness is gone. I promise to give you the best life you deserve."

{NSFW}

- DICK: 4 soft, 6'5 erected (Length), 6 in girth, curved upward, Veiny, hairy and tip color is ff9999

- He whimpers

- He's more submissive than dominant due to his body being weak

- You are the one who initiates

- His favorite part of sex is his dick getting sucked on by you

- He likes shoving his cock all the way down your throat

- And he thinks that you are really pretty with his cock on your mouth

- "f-fuck y/n. . . You're sucking it so good~"

- Since he has low stamina you are usually the one on top and the sex position you often do is Cowgirl and Reverse cowgirl

- While doing cowgirl his hands would be on your boobs playing with your nipples or sometimes they are just placed at your thighs giving them a squeeze

- If it's reverse cowgirl his hands would be on your hips and just like cow girl they would also be on your thighs

- You would bounce on his cock while he whimpers and begs you for more

- "ah~....ha~ ...pl-please more"

- Seeing muzan beg for more was amusing so you would tease him about it

- "Please what? Use your words my love~"

- He would get annoyed and grunt but greed took over him wanting more and more, he couldn't get enough of you so he would give in to your tease

- "Please Y/N...Please give me more of you"

- "Good boy~"

- And this is where you would bounce faster

- Muzan doesn't really use nicknames in sex because he's not really that sort of a romantic guy so he mostly just calls you by your own name

- And Muzan doesn't want any nicknames from you

- However you threatened that you would stop moving when he doesn't accept the nickname "Good boy" so he had no other choice but to accept the nickname you gave him

- When cumming he prefers to shoot it inside of you, into your mouth or all over your face.

- "Fuck... I'm close"

- If it's inside of you: he would tightly grip on your hips or thighs

- If it's into your mouth: He would ask you to stop bouncing and to suck his dick, after doing so he would have a tight grip on your hair forcing your mouth all the way down while his seed overfilled your mouth

- If it's on your face: He also would ask you to stop bouncing so he could pull out and come in your face, after cumming in your face he would cupped your cheeks admiring the mess he made

- He could only go for 1-2 rounds so if you are left unsatisfied and still wanting more he would just offer you to ride his face

- Poor muzan's dick was so exhausted after just 1 round

- "Seriously woman? Are you fucking trying to drain me?"

- "Please?"

- Muzan's greatest weakness was YOU, he couldn't refuse your request with that cute face of yours

- Too bad his dick was already exhausted so he offers another way to please you

- "Fuck you woman, Just ride my face and after this go kill yourself"

- Aftercare is important in sex but muzan is too weak to move on his own so you have to be the one taking care of him

- After having a warm bath together and putting on some comfy clothes You would bring in some foods for you and Muzan to eat together.

- After eating, Muzan will offer to let you cuddle with him to which you always Accepts and never once have refused.

- "I hate you but I also love you, but I still hate you more"

- "I love you most"

[r0ttenhearts]

You Promised

scaramouche x reader, modern au.

angst, insults, no comfort

being scaramouche’s friend was.. challenging. having to put up with his snarky comments, sometimes cruel behavior, but you loved him. you had been his friend since childhood, trailing behind him even in high school. but if it wasn’t you who else would it be? scaramouche had a history of not getting along with your peers, always having to apologize for him and the things he says.

in a way you were dependent on each other. he counted on you to keep him company and out of trouble, and you cared deeply for him that you only wanted to spend your time with him. so then came the promise. the promise to go to college together and become roommates, leaving behind your broken families and tragic pasts as you both planned to go into adulthood together.

but somewhere along the way he started acting.. different. it was the last year of high school and the time to apply to college was coming up. you nudged scaramouche as he was drifting off to sleep next to you.

“hey! scara! wake up. we haven’t picked out a college yet.”

“i don’t care.. just pick something and i’ll manage to find something i want to do.” he grumbled.

you shake your head as you click on several websites until deciding on one. now all that was left was to find student housing on campus. you figured you’d do that with scara once he was awake.

watching him sleep felt almost comforting. his usual smirk off of his face and replaced with a relaxed expression was refreshing. even in his sleep he would find tranquility. a tap on scaramouches shoulder broke your trance as you watched the blonde girl shake him awake.

of course it was lumine. scaramouche yawned as he nodded up at lumine, her hands on his as you watched him being pulled out of the classroom by her.

it seemed like ever since she had come along he had kept his distance from you. your usual friday sleepovers turned to afternoons on wednesdays with lumine taking up his time on those days.

what was so special about her?

sure she was.. beautiful but what did she have that you didn’t?

she hadn’t known scaramouche since practically birth like you did. she hasn’t been the one to comfort him when his mother would say the meanest words to him.

so how?

how had she managed to whisk him away from your life?

you sighed, packing your bag as you knew better than to wait on him. you already knew he’d be walking her home rather than you.

once you got home you sat at your desk, hearing bloops as you put your headset on. it was scaramouche, messaging you if you wanted to play minecraft. you joined the call as the both of you played minecraft together.

you felt happy.. finally an afternoon when he wasn’t with her. he was having fun with you instead.

oh how you missed these days.

“hey scara, how do i cut this? this mod is confusing..” you struggled with cutting a tomato with a new food mod he had added to your server. he was silent on the other end of the call before he spoke, scaring you as you just stared at your monitor.

“archons.. how annoying could you be? you ask me for help with every little thing.

i get it your small brain can’t comprehend basic common sense, but do you have to bother me for everything?

and you want to go to college? when you can’t even figure out how to cut something on fucking minecraft?”

you stayed silent as he went on a tangent about how he really thought of you. your hands off of your keyboard as tears slipped from your eyes, rolling down your cheeks.

“i cant believe i promised to go to college with you. you know— i didn’t even want to. i just said it because i pity you. i know how much you need me when i don’t even need you. it’s so fucking funny to me how the ONE normal person in your life can’t stand you. but there you are, always following me around like a sick puppy.

it’s pitiful y/n it really is.

and you know what? i’m going to go to college with lumine instead. she’s so much more tolerable to be around than you. she doesn’t blab to me about the smallest shit i couldn’t care less about.

i know the way you look at me and i promise you i’ll never feel the same. id rather die then spend another lifetime with you.”

you choked back a sob as you grit your teeth, yelling a “fuck you.” into your mic as you shut off the server. you sobbed into your hands as you heard numerous pings coming from your dm with him.

scara: oh now you’re gonna cry? little y/n finally grew some balls now huh?

scara: too bad for you. you’re alone now. lumine was here beside me watching your stupid little outburst. have fun facing us in school for that next few weeks.

scara: don’t forget who made you. you would’ve stayed the same loser you were back then if it weren’t for me.

scara: you’re nothing

scara: you have no friends for a reason you whiney bitch

you screamed, holding onto your mouse as you clicked the bright red block button over his profile. angry tears leaked from your eyes as you pulled out your phone, blocking him on all of the social media you had him added on.

how didn’t you see it? you knew he was becoming distant but you didn’t think he hated you.

your heart ached at the thought of your life without him. the reminder that he had chosen lumine over you felt like being stabbed.

but had he ever cared for you? the same thing way you did him?

how did the once sweet, shy scaramouche turn into this monster you couldn’t recognize?

you spent the rest of the school year alone. avoiding his and lumine’s gazes every time you walked into the classroom. you’d ignore his comments and his constant need to throw small wads of paper at you.

you never thought you’d be on the receiving end of his cruelty but here you were, loud laughs as lumine pointed at you while they stood together.

how you wished to get away from them as soon as possible.

once it was graduation, you didn’t bother showing up to the ceremony. instead you picked up your diploma from the front office. you were finally going to get the fuck out of there.

you got home and packed your things, you had picked a college in a foreign region. sumeru, the nation of knowledge.

you smiled as you boarded your flight, no one to greet you off as you sat there. a feeling of relief washing over you as the plane took off.

“goodbye to the boy i once knew, and the home that wasn’t really home.”

part 2

[wlfpet]

(Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader)

 — PAPI BONES

A/N: Hi, this is the formerly scrapped, 3x longer, 2 months writing project that I had because I wanted to fuck abby in a closet! this was actually supposed to be my first post on tumblr, but i got mad at it and sent it to the dungeon for two months :/ but yall wanted it, so I'm super happy i got to finish it, even though it took multiple days and cups of coffee to power through. sorry for the wait, hope you fuck wit her.

content tags (can you tell i don't want to write anymore ;w;): college au, childish antics at a big age, drinking, cool, ellie and dina are in this! kind of abstract sexual descriptions, assplay, cunnilingus (r!receiving), boob... touching? small mention of drugs because dealer!ellie, drunk sex, enthusiastic consent! :D, reader is kind of annoying sorry, men being assholes, reader catching feelings for a girl she fucked once, real.

wc: 7.6k ;w; (send help)

proofread?; barely.

tl : @clearheartgreyflowers, @oatmilkchaii, @ghostfacebunny, @ellsbclls (thank you to the sweetest deb @ellsbclls for helping beta read this, i appreciate your suggestions and encouragement and this would probably have been scrapped TWICE without your help ;w; )

synopsis: your best friend dina drags you to a college frat party. you hate shit like this, and you're painfully shy but when she does those puppy dog eyes you can't say no, so in a cruel twist of fate you end up in the closet with abby Anderson, and lose your virginity. yay college! (apart of the 'jackson university' thematic!)

Your idea of a Saturday night well spent wasn’t squeezing through a sea of sweaty backs; but like many things in your life, it wasn’t up to you, because you were easily swayed. Everything was overstimulating, the waves of bodies on bodies that pulsated and threw you between different poses and balances to keep on your feet, the ringing of laughter, of music, of every sound echoing in your head, around your body, vibrating through your very core. The smell of liquor and drunken antics and that one guy puking in the corner made you sick. But somehow, you were here, spurred on by peer pressure friendship and goodwill, trudging through the blackened room to your target; the snack table. 

Dina, your roommate, and determinant best friend held a firm hand on the small of your back, pushing you through the crowd and causing a small jolt to run down your body as she steered you around every obstacle and corner in the room. She was a woman on a mission, and the one who dragged you out of bed, convincing you - against your better judgment- that it was fatal that you accompanied her to a frat party. You knew she was good-natured, and your first friend when you moved 500 miles away from home to college. It was an instant click, but you were opposite best friends. 

Dina, ever the social butterfly, had connections in all different spaces; she could party with the sorority girls –hold the coke, please,– out-cram everyone, even the National Honor Society kids, all the way to the top of the class, hell, she was on the damn debate team, which was probably why it wasn’t a struggle to get a ‘yes’ out of you. You, on the other hand, were uncomfortable at bars, school sporting events, and parties, and one time you even thre– fuck, never mind. It was all effortless to her, in almost an enviable way. Dina loved to go clubbing, loved to hang, out, and she had been near-begging you to come out with her and her cool friends for months, not that you’re not cool, I mean. 

And somehow, despite everything, it worked. 

You could almost remember how you got there if you put away the sticky crunch of coke sticking to your shoes with each step, and reached back into the recesses of your mind. Or at least, back three-and-a-half hours ago. 

“They’re all great people, no weirdos, promise!” 

It was the emphatic plea made to you as you lay on your bed, queuing up the next episode of the apocalypse show you watched each week, watching her make Dina list off every reason why you just had to follow her out tonight. It was clearly very life-or-death shit to her, but you were unconvinced. It was just a party but there was going to be a smaller, more intimate kickback in a friend-of-a-friend’s basement. She was in the middle of getting ready, sitting at her school-issue desk and looking at herself in the mirror, dark hair coned over her head in a bun as she sat in deep concentration, words slurred and simple as she applied mascara, her mouth slacked into an O position.

“So you’re gonna like, fucking go, yeah?”

She said it as though it was obvious, like it wasn’t a question, but one look at you, –curled up in covers, laptop on chest, martini glass pajama pants and teddy bear teeshirt ON, unbothered– showed her that it would be a tall order, and that big guns would be needed. 

“Not interested, sorry.” 

“Not even a tinyyyyy bit?” Dina squeezed her fingers together for emphasis, throwing her head back in mock exhaust, a theatric groan rumbling out of her throat. “Not even a little bit.” You echoed, your roommate cutting her eye at you through her handheld mirror, but it was what it was. You weren’t into all of that stuff; the bump and grind of sweaty bodies wasn’t alluring, listening to someone else’s shitty music at ear-bleeding levels felt like hell, and if you wanted to get pitifully drunk and throw up all over yourself, there was a garbage can right under your bed. But your friend really, really, wanted your company and it made you feel, really, really bad to always blow her off. 

“Why are you going so hard on this?” You bemused as you propped up on your elbows, watching as she stalked around the room in her newly painted face, quickly rummaging through her drawer for a spare outfit. 

“Maybe because it bums me out to see my super cool roommate wasting away in her dorm every weekend?” In Dina’s mind, she was making a lot of sense. She was waiting for you to chime in, to say you know what, Dee? You’re right, I get it. But instead, you stared blankly, and she threw down her arms in exasperation. “You’re in fucking college, man! You don’t even wanna have one night of fun?”  She punctuated the ‘fucking’ with a wild gesture around her head, which made you chuckle to yourself.

“I mean, I was planning on wa–”

Your body was jostled by an insane amount of weight, almost turned completely over by two roughhousing dudes– a mess of limbs and arms, who looked at you and then at each other, as though they had spontaneously sobered up. You didn’t even have the time to start to be angry when they prattled off a blended, slurred apology and thrashed somewhere away through the mass of hands and faces in the dark room.

Fucking assholes, ruining the flashback sequence. 

The room was lit only by haphazard mood lights; soft LEDs and gaudy, flickering Christmas baubles, a solitary television, camped by stoners who laughed madly, and the dim auburn glow of the odd ceiling lamp nestled in the far back of the house. You were out of your element; you couldn’t dance, weren’t the most social, and even though you were with a friend, all of this made you feel very alone.

Dina cut through the crowd with her elbow, bellowing out “Ex–cuse me!” while she pushed you through gaps as they formed. Her voice fell to mutter again, barely audible, chunked and cut by the music bouncing from wall to wall, grumbling that she had places to be, and if E*&^$ didn’t get her off at least once, there would be hell to pay.  She was determined to get to the other side of the room, where it was arranged that by the chips, as smokers usually are, she would find her current fuckbuddy and her friends, waiting to hotbox and pregame a bit more before the room peaked. She was driven by horniness and selfishness, as one typically is after four shots of Tito’s vodka, and getting smoked out and ‘taken care of’ upstairs was half the reason she even came.

You’d never met her most recent suitor, and the question of her girlfriend was always met with a ‘no, she’s just my sneaky link.’ but you didn’t question it enough to know more. She was just the girl who Dina would go off campus to meet, and as long as she wasn’t a slasher, and her pre-rolls knocked you on your ass, it would be what it was. You were carried away by your friend’s excitement, by her heavy hand nearly lifting you off of your feet as she beelined to the kitchen, wrangling your twin bodies every which way. 

“Ellie! Ellie!” She yelled, jumping up and down a bit to compensate for her voice being swallowed by the bass. She burrowed through the wave, pushing you towards a girl leaning against the sink, nursing a red cup and low, hazy eyes. Her auburn hair was swallowed by a black docker, and a dark-coloured backpack jutted out from behind her as she smiled and waved the two of you –mostly Dina, into her orbit. She looped her head under your shoulder to be pulled into the strong hug of firm biceps, and Arms looked you over, offering a friendly nod. 

–

“It’s on streaming. You can watch ‘Many of Them’ literally whenever!”

“Live tweeting is a part of the experience.” You chided matter-of-factly, sitting up cross-legged. It wasn’t like the brunette was wrong, exactly, but you couldn’t give up too much at once. Going soft was not a part of the plan.

“Fuck, whatever– You know the girl I’ve been hooking up with, right?” Her eyebrow raised at your dispassionate ‘not really.’ “Well you know her fucking joints, she sells– weed, shrooms… pills?” Dina listed off with her finger, mulling over the last detail for a second, then confirming in her head with a nod. It’s fine, you’re cool, and the two of you had always bonded over your love of recreational joy anyways. “So, if you wanna smoke orsomething– I got you, all you have to do is show up.” Her hands were up almost sheepishly as she tested the waters, but you weren’t super convinced, and your idea of fun wasn’t exactly playing wingman while she got tongue-fucked by a drug dealer, and the pregnant pause was enough to cue her into having to bring out the big guns. 

“-And, and!  I'll wash all our dishes, and cleanyoursideoftheroomforaweek.” 

Damn, she practically ran through that last part, so under her breath you knew she was hoping that you didn’t hear. But you did, and for a second you could almost see a smirk play on her face as your eyes lit up. She was always up for a good bribe, and even though she would act annoyed, it was great for breaking you out of your shell. She would offer to watch the zombie show if you came out to the bars in your college town with her, pizza if you confessed to your crush instead of instastalking them three times a day, even though it didn’t work, –oh well, shooters shoot– and tonight? A week free from chores if you just spent a couple of hours in your own personal hell. Yeah, you would give her this one. 

“Now we’re talking. If you want someone to be the lookout while you and Jesse Pinkman go at it, who am I to deny?” You teased, kicking your legs over the edge of the bed. 

Your roommate craned her head up, momentarily stopping her mission of rifling through her clothes. “Who said that?”

“You’re in your ‘good panty’ drawer.” You whispered cheekily. 

“Well, you got me. Someone has to get fucked around here.”

“Oh fuck you, bitch!” You laughed, throwing your pillow, hitting smack in the center of her chest. 

Dina bounced around the room, practically billowing with glee. There was a descending, barely audible ‘fuck yeah’ as she traipsed down the hall towards the bathroom, rounding the corner and disappearing from your periphery. 

“By the way, you know Jesse’s last name is Huang, right, not Pinkman? And we’re uh– not together anymore.” Dina shouted through the silence.

“That’s a character from Breaking Bad. It was a joke– because he’s a drug de–” You stopped yourself midway. “Never mind. It’s not funny if I explain it.”

“Oh– I never watched Breaking Bad. Too Long.” She deadpanned. You chuckled to yourself, shaking your head as you slid your way off the bed. 

That’s how you found yourself in a dimly lit bathroom, missing the comfort of your memories as ‘Ellie’ rolled a blunt. You stood leaning against the door and Dina sat on the closed toilet seat. The dealer sealed the last of the leaf with a flick of the tongue and a lick of spit, maintaining direct eye contact with Dina so she could not-so-subtly show off. She passed it to the brunette first, who mimed a cheeky, ‘why thank you’ and drew poutily. You three sat there for a while, smoking and talking, steam from the hot shower wafting above your heads as music pumped through the foundation of the house. 

There was laughter outside of the door and it soon became awkward for you, Ellie and Dina finishing the blunt, –you were a lightweight– and chatting idly as Dina traced a fingertip against the outline of the tattoo Ellie was showing off. 

The temperature of the tiny room ran hotter between their reddened eyes, and it was as though you were being banished by a galactic force. You couldn’t mistake how the red-haired girl’s glance caught an extra second or so at the way Dina’s body was hugged just right in her party dress, cleavage strained against the fuchsia PVC of her neckline, and how she bit the corner of her lip when her eyes hooked on a dark mole on Dina’s breast that was framed by the feathers of her black hair.  

It was time to go, unless you were interested in seeing your best friend get dug out on the countertop.

You were already a little bit wobbly, hearing a giggle that slipped from Dina’s lips morph into a squeak as you slipped out of the crack you pulled in the door and into the fray, getting carried down the stairs and back over to the drinks. You crossed over a kissing couple, cutting into their makeout and heavy petting session, and through a huddled together group of girls whispering something about seeing an ex across the room. 

You gripped onto the countertop for stability when you finally broke free from the pulsating wave of bodies. There was a bit of everything surfing in deep bowls of ice and water, open bags of chips and snacks bunched up together on the island. You could not be sober for this shit. You wedged up the pop cap on a hard seltzer and brought it to your lips, the spirit coating your tongue and boiling its way into your stomach. There it was again, the familiar warm feeling in your hands and feet, the soft pressure already creeping across the flat of your face. Yeah, now that was it. The anxiety began to melt away, and you leaned against the countertop, flexing your legs. 

Wow, they’re inviting giants to the shindig too. You laughed to yourself as the scarlet-lit ocean parted, and a tall, wide figure walked through and into the darkness of a descending flight of stairs. If only it was that easy when you needed to piss, notwithstanding that you had already been in the bathroom.

 It’s fun being sardonic sometimes. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see your roommate coming down the stairs, the dealer’s deft fingers pulling down part of her dress that rode up her ass.  She arched her head up, straining left and right like the eye of a submarine as she looked for you; her eyes lit up, waving to you as she fisted her companion’s belt loop, bouldering through the sea of people. She was high as fuck, if her bright pink eyes were enough to speak to it, and your gaze lingered over the new expanse of a deep purplish hickey on her neck, small indents from teeth glimmering with saliva in the light.  

There was that hotness again that burned in the pit of your stomach, not from drunkenness or anxiety, but the can of fruity liquor in your hand covered up for the embarrassing flush of your wild cherry-coloured cheeks. You peeled your eyes back up to her face and smiled dumbly. You’d never had *that* before. You’ve watched things before at least, and obviously, touched yourself to the thought, but you’ve never had someone to fool around with in bathrooms or hold your skirt when it rode up.

There was your first kiss, but it was in middle school, so it didn't count. It was all clammy lips, two noses that couldn’t get the space between them *quite* right, and an overzealous set of chompers that left you with a bloody lip. Actual horseshit, but somehow, a core memory. It was annoying in a way, how it just didn’t come to you, but you wanted to be wanted. To be lusted over, desired even in that casual touchy way that simmered between your best friend and the girl you didn’t know very well.  Dina was making grabby hands at you, wide-eyed and bushy-tailed. Your drink bobbed as she whisked you to her will, you and Ellie sharing a knowing look as she pushed your bodies through the hall and down the darkness of the stairwell. 

– 

“RULES ARE SIMPLE,” some asshole in a hat bellowed as he stood over all of you who sat in the circle, mildly drunk off your asses and looking for easy fun. He held up a black beer bottle, carrying it like a trophy and swishing it around your noses for a closer look. “You kids might know seven minutes in heaven.” You didn’t know him, but according to Dina, this was his house, his party, and his very annoying rules. A light patch of raised skin played against his nose as he scrunched his nose over and over again, hands on hips, clearly trying to steal back whatever thought the liquor took from him. Jason, right? 

Whatever. 

“But we’re all grown-ups here, so I present to you–” He rolled the bottle in hand, clearly soft-launching his bright idea. “Fifteen minutes in purgatory!” There was a deep groan radiating from some, but there was a small minority that exploded in cheers, and whoops. “Pretty self-explanatory, two adventurers venture deep into purgatory, and come out forever changed.

“Two adventurers go deep into purgatory,” He gestured his head at the foreboding broom closet in the back of the room. “And return forever changed.” 

“We’ll use the bottle to choose our unlucky voyagers, and you’ll spend fifteen minutes in the closet.” He explained, dropping the mystique in the second half. “Alright kids, let’s start; and just for the record– If you’re a pussy, get the fuck out of the circle!”

The drunken cast of partiers whooped and cheered, hyping each other up, spilling beer out of red cups as they gestured wildly, entirely too grown for this. The room played ‘not it’ to pick who got the first spin, and the unfortunate soul was a blonde who sat cross-legged, blank-eyed at the black glass handed to her, nodding her head tersely. 

“We got our very own Abigail Anderson– !” Her eyes narrowed. “Andddd….” Hat praised, cueing her to spin. She took the bottle, pointing the tip towards herself and then spinning it, the glass doubling, tripling the circle, making you dizzy chasing it with your eyes, and everyone sat with bated breath. It slowed and slowed and slowed, until, like ugly fate, it stopped at your feet.

“Our newbie!” He got up to cheese, leaning over you, placing his hands over your shoulders, and rocking you from side to side. You laughed awkwardly, putting your palms up defensively at nothing. 

“Um– uh…” You were at a loss for words, only cut off as his head shot into your field of view, hot, hopsy breath tanging your nostrils. “What, you scared?” He taunted, all eyes on you, watching as you nursed a deep discomfort about the whole thing behind an uneasy smile.  

“You’re a fucking asshole, Jordan.” The girl, Abby, groaned. She looked up at you from her downward pointing head, swishing her bottle of hard cider in the hand propped over her knee. Jordan, that was the name of this dickhead. Yeah, fuck him. “If she doesn’t want to get in the closet, she doesn’t want to get in the closet. I’ll just spin again.”

Dina cut in, the redhead still leaning lazily against her. “Yeah, don’t–dont be a dick, Jordan.” Her face was tight, and Ellie was annoyed because Dina was annoyed, and the room held a pregnant silence, and even though it wasn’t your fault, you felt all too responsible and all too uncomfortable with all of the eyes watching you.

“It’s fine, guys. Let’s all– eh, chill out, okay? I’m going to take the dare.” You leaned in, voice dropping to a whisper, trying to steal back the vibe, trying to replace the tension with playful drama as you circled your head around, wiggling the fingers slightly of your held-up palms. “Because I’m not a little bitch.”

The crowd exploded in raucous laughter, each voice clashing together and mimicking the sound of a pipe bursting. You looked over at your partner, who seemed pleasantly surprised, a smirk playing on her peach lips. She placed down her bottle and stood, and as she towered over you, you realised that maybe you were playing with fire. She was scary and nonchalant, but the outer workings of her face were soft and gentle. She didn’t look like the girls in the videos you watched at night; she was something different, uncharted, and before you knew it, a nervousness, and something lower, darker, ran through your body. 

Then it was time to go, you piling in first, looking around at some of the half-darkness in the room, barely enough to fit two people in. 

The asshole patted the girl’s back, corralling her into the closet behind you. Blood rushed to your head, the pressure was too great, like getting skullfucked through your ears. show her a good time, you could hear him say, and then something that you couldn’t quite understand over the bass. The mountain’s eyes narrowed, but before she could shoot back, her large body crashed into yours and the space became tighter and tighter, just enough for the two of you to put your arms out to either side or turn around. For a split second, you could see Dina’s face from over Jordan’s shoulder, tightened in concern, a timid thumbs up at the side of her head. Then, he closed the door, and the last of the light slipped out through the crack in the wall. 

There was a deep silence, and somehow, like the hazy feeling you get right before you wake from a dream, you were chest to chest in the darkness with her blue eyes staring back at you, damn-near bioluminescent. You’d seen her around, because everyone sees her around, but it hadn’t registered that the giant who had parted all of those people in the crowd like they were just water, was standing right in front of you. Outside you could hear the rumble of the music, vibrations of the bass wrapping around you and shaking you from the inside out. The closet was too tight, too warm, too filled with smells from towels and coats and folded blankets and dusty boxes of light bulbs and two cramped, awkward bodies. 

Suddenly, you felt all too intimidated.

“You’re Abigail, right?” You questioned. “Off the rugby team?”

“Abby.” You couldn’t read her face in the dark, and though she spoke pointedly she didn’t seem angry, but the accidental overstep was enough to make you want to dig a hole through the floor with your bare hands and die in it. “And yeah– captain, of the rugby team.”

“Oh, sorry, sorry.” You yielded. “So… what are we supposed to do? In here, I mean.” You gestured at nothing, knocking some washcloths from a top shelf down in the dark. “Ah, damn it.” You cursed under your breath, bending down to pick up the small stack. You could hear Abby behind you, sucking her teeth with a judgy hum.  Her brows were almost touching her eyelids, captured in secondhand embarrassment, and she almost felt bad for how awkward you were, scrambling to pick them up from the floor.

  If you could see her face, you’d be able to tell how her eyes flicked up and down her body, taking everything in. Your black skirt slid slightly to bunch at the front, uncovering portions of your doughy thigh and the ever-so-tiniest range of fabric hiding your prettiest secret. She had to tear her eyes away, almost. She jumped, even, glad you couldn’t see as you popped back up. 

You were cute, holding the disheveled stack in your hands, a look of sheer pride on your face. You looked over to the side, tossing them unceremoniously on a free shelf, gravity taking a couple back to the ground. Your sated chuckle, the way your tits pushed up slightly, illuminated, almost framed like art by the neckline of your cream cardigan made her hungry. She pushed the ideas of what she wanted to do with them out of her mind, but damn, she could think about some things that would make the devil embarrassed. She stomped down her desire, stoicism crossing her for a second, only for her to open it back up on second thought.

“They want us to fool around, fuck, ideally.” She started, analysing your expressions for any hint of discomfort at the conversation. “But– we don’t have to do anything.” She tried to cut some of the thick discomforts with a placating smile, almost lost in detail in the low light. She was huge, more so than you, or most anyone else you knew, the jutting-out edge of a shelf knocking the back of her head every time she leaned her head back in the tight space. The hard washboard of her torso was framed by an opening of a grey hoodie and barely much else, just the thick band of her boxers peeking from her sweatpants, and the black of a cropped tank top that stopped right below her bra line. 

“Jordan… is typically a good guy, but when he gets drunk he’s a total POS.” Abby was sallow-faced, pursing her lips, tension running through her jawline. “I shouldn’t have let him put you on the spot like that. So… I’m sorry that you got pressured to get in here.”

“It’s fine, I just.” You started, ready to say that big phrase, the one that slightly burned your back to admit. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

“What, played seven minutes in heaven? Yeah, kind of a jackass thing to suggest in your twenties.”

Shit. She was going to make you say it. 

“No. I mean I’ve never–” and you thought your tiny voice couldn’t get any tinier. “had sex before.” 

Abby breathed in the deepest sigh, pure anxiety crossing her face for a split second, before she was feeding you apologies. “It’s fine, we don’t have to do anything we can just sit here and talk. Or be in silence if you want it’s alr–”

“I want to do it.” You said doggedly, pressing yourself into a tiny corner. Her brow perched, and there was something in those narrowing blue eyes that said she didn’t believe you. You were pigeontoed, legs shifting against one another, declaring in your firmest voice that you wanted her to take your virginity. 

“Are you sure?” She breathed out, stepping a bit closer. “You don’t have to feel pressured to do anything because you think they want a show.”

“Oh, my god.” You were pouting, annoyed. “I can choose if I want to have sex you know, and I want to have sex right here right n–”

She kissed you, softly as possible, testing your waters to see how far you were willing to go. Her hands were patient, one lightly knotted in the woolen knit of your cardigan to lightly pet your lower back, the other making gentle grips on your sweatered arm. Her fingers were barely bruising, gripping around your wrist almost tight enough, and a tiny shockwave coursed between your thighs and convinced you that you wanted more. In this low light, in this dark room, in this place between space and time, you wanted to be her conquest. To be taken, touched, manhandled, to be made to weather the storm of her overwhelming strength against you, lost in the middle of the ocean.

It was perverted, almost, how the idea of her showing restraint raised hairs on your skin, how you deepened the kiss like you were being overcome with an insatiable, bloody hunger. You had to take back the moment, to steal her attention in a way she couldn’t deny before she thought you were all talk; you stepped closer, positioning yourself so that her thigh hovered right below the heated space under your skirt. Her hand was warm, soft as you grabbed it, moving it lower, deeper down the divot of your back and where the fat of your ass connected. She caught on, groaning into your lips as she kneaded around your body, her tongue sweeter and heavier against yours, working that one damned hand up your skirt to cup bare skin. 

You jumped. 

As fast as it had come, her hand slipped back from under your skirt and the touch was lost completely, awkwardly hovering for a second until Abby pulled it back into her pocket and stepped back. You were miserable, eyes welling up in frustration like a lost dog at the lack of feeling. She was pulling you into insanity but was too chivalrous to drown you in it, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly as she looked down at you.

“Fuck– didn’t mean to be aggressive like that. I–” The redness bled across her cheeks, freckles on full display as her fingers met the wet spot that you were hiding, your hands guiding hers to the space between your thighs. There was a pause, a knowing, a challenge between the two of you as an unknown heat spread throughout your bodies, and you collided once more. The blonde’s mouth sucked a nasty pressure into your throat, agitating it with bites and licks as her head traveled deeper, hands playing at the front of your sweatered torso to undo the buttons that held your breasts hostage. 

Her entrance was assured as she popped the loops open, fingers gripping the fabric of your camisole and lifting up, taking your bra with it. She nipped at the exposed flesh, heat from her mouth traveling directly to your vagina, clit throbbing hard with need. Abby engulfed a nipple with the wetness of her tongue, closing her lips around the rapidly hardening bud to pull it to full attention, chuckling as she scraped the flesh with her teeth. The wet head was replaced with her palms, each thumb and forefinger rolling one or the other. The sensitivity of the tiny flesh was insane, enough to make you whine out loud as she continued, better than anything you had ever done to yourself. 

You were biting your lip, eyes big and doe-like as you waded through your pleasure, soft pants heaving your chest. She fished it out from between your teeth and hooked it within her own, popping the plump flesh into her mouth as she pared yours with her tongue. You swore the room was spinning, a wetness slicking between your thighs, a drip positioned between two pairs of hungry lips. You could’ve spent all fifteen minutes– or an eternity, in this beautiful hell, giving and taking and relishing in a different, sort of strange type of want.

“Don’t stop.” You moaned in between stolen breaths, the blonde chasing your mouth each time you pulled away.

“For you, pretty?” Gripping you tighter for emphasis, pressing you closer into the wall, angling further between your spread legs. “Never.” 

It was like you were some weird intoxication to her, a drug that she couldn’t get enough of. How your ass molded right into the divots of her palms, those tiny moans that rang through the cage you two were in, the rapid beating of your heart rippling through your body. She wanted to peel your cardigan from your shoulders, wanted to shred your clothes from your body and take you however she liked, and make you feel better than you knew what to do with. Needed to make you scream and fuck you until you cried. But it was your first time, so she resigned to being gentle and soft, like you were a little deer in the forest, and she was trying to get close without scaring you off. so she would give you only what you needed. 

She didn’t have a lot of strong feelings about that nickname she had earned in sophomore year, War Machine, from all of the pretty girls she ran through and left unable to walk, unable to talk for a couple of days or more. but when Jordan said it, in front of you, in front of sweet and innocent, pretty and tiny *you* she could’ve reeled back and torn him apart. But she still didn’t want to scare you. So she had forced an alright, the one a child forces when they get scolded, and hid the burning in her palms that made her want to fight in the pocket of her pants. 

Your eyes bored x-rays through her formidable thighs as she bent her knees to squad before you, strong hands rubbing up and down your thighs with contrasting gentleness to the hard angles of her face, the brow that was crooked down slightly in concentration, the slightly parted lips playing with mischief as they took you in. You were frightened for just a second, until Abby looked up at you with sympathetic eyes, a hand leaving your thigh and linking with your fingers, guiding you to the base of her skull to envelop her honeyed strands. 

She was back at you, the darkness in your stomach leaking out as you palmed her head, and she ran her hands upward, more upward, until the ruffles of your cotton skirt were overturned in her palms. From the waist down, you were completely exposed, a wet spot working itself into your panties from your innermost recesses and a musky scent betraying your shyness. 

Abby pressed herself gently into the fabric, her fat lips creating a cool pressure against the hot flesh, her nose itching lightly into your pubis. You bucked your hips unconsciously, nearly fucking her face in your abandon. A vibration from her laugh traveled through you, nestled inside of you, and more wetness began to slick your channel. That friendly ache formed in your rapidly hardening clit, and a similar pain throbbed in your pinkie and middle finger. Her other hand moved up, gripping fistfuls of your ass, less forgiving now, and forcing a squeak from your lips. 

You were dumbstruck; a stranger’s hands all over you, mouth nearly on top of your sacred place, nearly leaking from sheer lust. She had barely done anything. Your jaw slacked, and in your mind you felt like a fool, lamenting how you thought your first time would be special. Soft circles rubbed into your inner thigh as she pulled your legs apart, peppering angel kisses throughout the little divots. 

“S’okay, baby.” Her voice was barely a whisper, a tiny encouragement that calmed the buzzing in your mind. “Tell me how you want me. I’m yours.” 

and you thought that declaration would destroy you,’ I’m yours.’ and it felt very, very real. 

“I want you to touch me.” You said, barely a whisper, nodding as she pressed her face to your thigh, sliding down your panties to about knee-level. It was as though she had seen heaven’s gate open, awestruck at the blood rushing to engorge your lips, how your clit stood on end without even being touched. The thatch of hair curling between your thighs and around your depths. She had to have a taste, and there wasn’t much room for second-guessing as she pressed her mouth to the hot spot and flattened her tongue directly against the wettest space.

Juicy noises slid from her mouth as she rolled your clit between her tongue and sucked sharply with her lips, and it was as though you could’ve sunk to the floor, the way your legs became distinctly not yours. It was enough, enough, not enough, then too much. It was like you were an endlessly gushing fountain as Abby’s wet, firm tongue parted your lips, dipping ever so lightly into your hole as she licked out a string of nectar from your drooling cunt. It was as though you were animated, possessed even, as your hands flew into her hair, pushing her head down further and further, to that release you chased violently and madly. 

Abby was humble, letting you guide her where you needed her; she was soft at first, but you didn’t want soft, you wanted more. 

She obliged. 

The blonde slipped her fingers between your thighs and parted your slit, opening up an endless, waiting tightness. She was intrepid, pressing through your clenching muscle and opening you up more than you had ever done; thick digits tearing through you, fucking your pussy at an unforgiving pace, concentration forming in the muscles of her neck. You hid an inhuman growl in the pit of your throat, in the crook of your sweatered elbow, and she moaned out, satisfied with that which she had created inside of you. You were fucking her face in a tight, dirty closet, calf propped over a muscled shoulder for support, the heel of your booties pressing into the wall, locking her in.

 It was as though the two of you were fighting, every roll of your hips she chased with her head, every time you shied away from the pleasure she held you harder, taking you even hungrier, diving deeper to a spot you didn’t know was there; every taut pull at her scalp met with an even tighter grip into the flesh of your plush ass. The pads of her fingers violated the sopping warmth of your cunt, and you clenched your stomach unwittingly, walls flexing, holding her hand there. Drool dripped from between her lips, pooling and soaking down into the fibres of an old shag rug, caked with dust and whatever else. 

Your own slipped between your lips before you could suck it back in, and the silver trail bounced, the way it does when it breaks, and the thick drop cascaded down her temple, getting lost in your brow. The piece that was yours snaked down your collarbone and between your breasts and somehow, you felt a connection. 

Abby snorted, sucked in a breath as her fingers left you empty. Fuck. She didn’t go for her face, wiping them on the skin of your pussy, they traveled upwards, firm grips on your ass. She rubbed the flesh as though she was throwing clay, stretching the skin between her rough fingers, calluses on her palms coasting over every bump and groove. She had found what she had wanted, craning her neck lower, lower, until you could just barely see her eyes. Her fingertips prodded, greedy, opening your lips, tongue leching against your soft fruit as though she was funneling the juices directly into her mouth. You thought your thighs would give out but she held you, stronger, and you fed her willingly. 

Her middle finger dipped down into the slit, collecting juices, stealing a breath from your lungs, you wanted to scream her name but it was caught inside of you, so you stood slack-jawed, fuck drunk as she abused your walls, fucking every ridge painfully slow. The tight hole stretched around the meatiness of her finger, and she hooked it as though she was searching, retreating from the warmth, slick with your nastiest of liquids. Again, she split your ass with one hand, and you clenched your tightest hole without thinking about it. 

“Don’t worry,” She said, muffled against your mound as she latched against it once more, “gonna help you so fucking good.” You were confused, but you trusted her, a complete stranger. For a second you began to ask what there was to worry about, but your mind was pried away from you as you felt the pressure of her coated fingertip tracing around your asshole. A gentle kiss played at the head of your pussy, comforting you as you nodded your head wildly, something of a ‘yes’ flying from your throat as her middle finger parted that threshold. 

Your mind exploded, head shooting straight up into the air, a small yelp burning into a silent open-mouthed cry. You were spinning, the room was spinning, your body heated up instantly. Then, the wet warmth traveled back to your clit, her opposite hand nestling two fingers into your aching, needy twat, her tongue lapping as her fingers resumed digging and that one damned finger fucked in and out of your tightest hole painfully slow. 

She fucked you like an animal; you cried out like a bitch in heat. The music trembled through your ears, and you were afraid it wouldn’t be enough, that everyone would hear, everyone would know. You were both drunk and this didn’t matter, didn’t mean anything, but she was bottoming her tongue out in you and you wanted it to mean a lot. Girls talked and you fucking hated them all. She was loose, she got around, and you wanted to be hers. 

You wanted to capture her and be interesting to her and walk with her hand on your lower back around campus. Wanted her callused fist in your hair, around your neck as she took you every night. Wanted badly to fucking cum, to open the portal, to wash her face with this unholy water, wanted to kiss wet lips and taste everything. Wanted to know if she could ever like you, after you gave it up, quickly, bellowing like a foghorn against a rack of coats. You wanted to be kept, to keep her spit inside of you like a keepsake but she sucked it back in a quick second, before you could even feel her cheeks hollow between your thighs, and felt dirty for even thinking of it. 

A sweet pain formed between your thighs and you couldn’t stop the groan that rose from your throat, every muscle in your face clenching and unclenching, your eyes crossing as your orgasm came quickly into view. Abby fucked you through it, fingers slow and forgiving. It was as though a stream of slowly descending tidal waves were crashing against you, and you needed more, it hurt but you needed more. Something deep burned inside of you, endlessly hot, and you wondered how she could stand the heat as she hit it over and over again.  You sobbed, and swore that you could feel a tear roll down your cheek, feeling the need to rub your eyes for good measure.  

She looked up, entranced, face softening for a second, watching as you gave up your mind to your body. There was a hard knock at the door, the music lowered a decibel, silence filling the two of you, her fingers still deep inside of your two holes. A sing-song voice bellowed out ‘five minutes!’ and the darkness ridged her eyes. 

For the first time, her voice was hard, removing her hand from your cunt, making sure to curl the one in your ass tighter in compensation. She slammed the door twice with her fist, the frame bulging in a way that made you fear the whole thing would just fall down. “Fuck off.” Her voice was loud enough to tear through the uncomfortable tension. There was an apprehensive, ‘woah man,’ that you could barely hear, and the music regained, the party rejoiced, and hopefully, the fear of God being struck enough in your host to leave well enough alone. 

Her lips were still slick, soft, kissable with your juices. She flashed you a genuine, pretty smile.  Her hands gripped a little too tight but you wanted it all. She looked down at the mess between your trembling thighs, then at your heavy, panting face. She leaned back on her heels as a wide smile played on her face, satisfied with herself. A windy chuckle passed through her glistening lips, wiping her mouth and chin on the inside of her hoodie. “Fuckin’ insane.” She breathed out in between pants. 

“Abby.” She said, as though the strength of your orgasm traveled through your brain and made you forget the events of the last 15 minutes. “Constance Hall. Dorm 425 on the second floor.” It was as though your heart skipped a beat, but you punched it down, a weak smile playing against your lips. 

She was fucking disheveled, almost inhaling the last sweet smells of your pussy, creating a memory of the flavour and filing it away in her mind for safekeeping. She was delicate, pulling your white panties up to your thighs again, soothing a finger where those soft, curly pussy hairs were hidden again. She let down her hands, skirt furling down, covering the marks of dark possession that she left behind. “Come see me again sometime, ‘kay?” She chuckled, giggled even, and that glint in her eyes was enough to make you faint. 

She stood up, waiting for you to compose yourself and straighten everything out before she pushed open the now-unlocked door and peeked her head out.

Jordan was already on her as the door flew open, and you could hear his hushed nosiness as you hugged the wall and tried to act casual, eyes locked on her retreating back as she reentered the room, light haloing her. ‘So what happened?’ you swore his lips read, and your stomach dropped. But she cut through his questions, loud enough for you to hear, convincing enough that he wouldn’t have anything to run his mouth about later on. 

“Nothing man, we were just talking.”

Maybe she was actually just that charming. 

Yeah.

[nolita-fairytale]

comfort & chaos | carmy berzatto x fem!reader | chapter four: 2/22/22

summary: carmy receives bad news that changes his life forever, while you're relationship with him comes to a head. (the five times carmen berzatto fell in love with you a little and the one time he finally told you)

warnings: explicit sexual content (18+ only), death, grief, mentions of suicide, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, drinking & smoking, suggestive language

word count: 5.5k

listen to: hurting kind - del water gap | robbers - the 1975 | hostages - the howl & the hum

a/n: i need therapy after writing this. so sorry bbs love you all. ok but fr, i thought that i was going to write a smut scene that was not going to be hot bc we know it's canon that carmy does not fuck and then it ended up being really hot and i'm once again asking for therapy.

read: chapter three

2/22/22

Something happened. Can you come over?

That’s all the text said. It’s all that needed to be said for you to drop everything you were doing and hop on the subway. Your heart is pounding in your chest as you imagine every single worst case scenario possible. Carmy had given you little context in regards to what this was about, and you almost regret not asking as your mind runs rampant with possibilities. Not that he would’ve given you an answer. Something about him seemed different. He’d never sent that urgent of a text. 

Not even when the restaurant was slammed and he needed you to come in on your day off. 

Something happened. 

The words continue to echo in your head until you reach him. 

You're at Carmy’s doorstep faster than you ever thought your feet could carry you, and when he opens the door for you, your heart breaks. He’s wrecked. His face is a flushed red, though you don’t think it’s from crying, and he looks like he hasn’t washed his fuckin’ hair in days. You take in his somber expression, like all of the joy he’s ever experienced has been sucked out of him. 

Carmy steps aside, allowing him into your apartment. 

He mumbles something you can barely hear, gesturing towards the couch, so you follow him, taking a seat on the crappy couch you’ve come to love. He stares at the floor, his eyes cold and empty, as you sit in silence. 

It’s you who breaks it, bursting at the seams with anxiety.

“Carmy, you’re scaring me,” you say softly. 

He keeps his eyes fixed on the floor as he licks his lips, swallowing as he opens his mouth to say something. It’s a few moments later that he’s finally able to put two words together to tell you what happened. 

“It’s Michael,” is all he manages to get out. You can hear the break in his voice when he utters Michael’s name, and you’re terrified of what he’s going to say next. 

“Your brother?” you ask, secretly hoping he won’t say yes. 

You feel your stomach drop. 

Carmy nods slowly, “Yeah.” 

He takes a few beats before saying anything else, his head swimming. On one hand it doesn’t feel real, and if he doesn’t say it out loud, maybe it won’t be. There’s a part of him that still thinks this is some cruel, sick joke that Mikey cooked up, just to fuck with him. 

But he knows it’s real. He could hear it in the way that Sugar’s voice broke on the phone. He could hear it in the way that Richie practically screamed at him to stop being such a fuckin’ cuck and come home. He knows it’s real, because for the first time in years, his mom’s called him. 

Must be Sugar or something calling from her phone for her…. ‘S gotta be, he thinks to himself. 

“He’s-,” Carmy starts, before stopping again. Carmy looks away, in the opposite direction of you, focusing his eyes on something outside of the window. 

He can’t look at you because if he looks at you, he might lose it. 

“He’s dead.”

“Oh Carmy,” you gasp, your heart wrenching in your chest as the words leave his mouth. You reach out to touch him, but he flinches, pulling away from you. 

“No,” is all he says through gritted teeth. 

You cannot touch me. You cannot make me feel better about this because I’ll have to feel worse about this, is what he wants to say. 

“The fuckin’ asshole shot himself on the State Street bridge. I don’t-, you don’t get to make me feel better about this,” he snaps, his tone almost a warning. 

“Fuck,” you sigh, sitting up straight and leaning towards him. He may not want your comforts, so you’re going to give your presence. He had asked you to come over after all, right? “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, coldly. 

His response is jarring, leaving an unsavory taste in your mouth. You understand that he’s just gotten the most unimaginable news, but it doesn’t sit right with that he’s taking it out on you either. Is that why he invited you over? To be his punching bag? Instead, you decide to pivot to crisis control-mode, hoping to remedy some of the animosity he’s harboring. 

“Okay, well, I’ll call Kate and let her know that you can’t come in tonight, if that helps. Just so you don’t have to-,” you suggest. 

“Why would you fucking do that?” he yells, snapping his head towards you as he finally turns towards you. You can see it in his eyes: how angry and devastated he is – at Michael, at what happened – and even though you know it’s not personal, it stings all the same.

“Because!” you shout back. “Carmy, you just found out-... something terrible. I just don’t think you should-.”

“Yeah, well you don’t get to tell me what to do. You’re not my mom and you’re not my girlfriend so,” he’s quick to retort, rebelliously. 

You scoff at him, shaking your head in utter disbelief.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve, Carmen,” you cut him off with a yell. You know he’s hurting, but this is where you draw the line. “I’m well aware that I am not your girlfriend, but I am your friend, and I care about you.”

You’re right. 

He knows you’re right. 

He knows he’s being a dick, but it’s like he can’t stop his own rage from spilling out sideways as yells:

“Well, if you don’t want to be here, then get out!”

“Stop it!” you cut him off, venom in your voice. 

Carmy looks at you, his bloodshot eyes wide with utter despair. 

“You called me, Carmy. So shut the fuck up and let me fucking help,” you lower your voice, bringing the confrontation between the two of you back down. 

With his eyes fixed to the floor, his mind zoning out to numb the pain, he manages to get out, “I don’t want to-. I need to go to work tonight.”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” you plead softly, yet firmly. 

“Yeah, well, you don’t get to make that decision,” he dismisses. 

He’s right. You don’t. 

“Yeah, okay,” you sigh, giving in. 

It’s a horrible idea – for Carmy to go into the restaurant – but you know he’s going to do it anyway. 

“What can I do for you in the meantime?”

“I just-, I don’t think I can be alone right now,” he mumbles, averting his eyes once again. “Can you just like… sit here with me? Till we gotta go?”

“Yeah.”

The afternoon passes slowly, and you feel like the both of you have been lit on fire – only a matter of time before you burn his whole place down. As you’re getting ready to leave, Carmy sprints into the bathroom, emptying what little contents he has in his stomach into the toilet. You’d been aware that he’d been having some trouble – throwing up before work – but he’d refused to see a doctor. Another decision he’d made clear wasn’t yours to make. What you weren’t aware of was that it had gotten this bad.

Like you’d imagined, going into the restaurant had been a mistake. It hadn’t taken long for Carmy to blow up at a line cook, mid-shift, over an undercooked duck breast. Sure, it was a big mistake, but Carmy had sent the line cook home after making a very public example of them. After the event, Tim had urged Carmy to take a break, offering to expedite for a few, while you rushed him into the walk-in. 

“Hey! You can’t do this shit. Not here. These people look up to you!” you chastise him. 

“He’s a fucking idiot! How do you undercook a fucking-,” Carmy yells, his face twisted into a look of disgust.  

“Carmy!” you shout, stopping him mid-sentence. 

You both know this is not about the duck breast. 

You share a moment of silence together, the cold of the walk-in leaving goosebumps on your skin. You lower your voice, a quiet and intentional demand leave your lips as you instruct:

“Listen, I’m going to give you five minutes to fuckin’ lose it in here, and then you’ve gotta pull it together and finish dinner service, okay?” 

He nods in response, his lips pressed together in a thin, tight line. You watch him pace a few times, before he clutches at his chest, his breathing becoming more uneven. 

This is why coming in had been the worst idea ever. 

“Carmy, are you o-?" you start, genuinely worried about him. You feel like your head is spinning. Carmy is losing control and all you can do is watch. 

He holds out a hand, as if to stop you from coming any closer, so reluctantly, you leave him to it, closing the door behind you. The sound of empty storage containers being thrown across the walk-in fills your ears, as you close the door to the walk-in behind you. You feel like your heart is caught in your throat and watching him go through this is more painful than you could’ve ever imagined. You take a deep breath before returning to your station, keeping your head down for the rest of the shift. 

Dinner service is pure chaos as Carmy undulates from unbroken focus to volatile and unpredictable throughout making the evening hell for the rest of you. The tension is thick, and it’s as if everyone is walking on eggshells around him, more so than normal. By the time it’s over, you insist on walking Carmy home. You make a stop at your favorite deli near his apartment to pick up a quart container of matzo ball soup on the way.

“You gotta eat something,” you encourage, the silence in his apartment deafening.

You’re met with silence as he stares blankly at the table in front of him, his spoon dipped into the soup. Instead, you sit with him, watching him take a few sips of the broth, while the actual food in the soup goes untouched. He doesn’t have the stomach for it. 

He doesn’t know if he has the stomach for this either. 

All of this. Any of this. 

You eventually give in, packing up the soup to put in the fridge for another day, even though you know he’ll probably just toss it when you leave. Just when you think it’s time for you to go, he stops you with the most tender touch to your arm, as he asks:

“Stay?” 

His eyes are watery, and although he’s going to let himself cry yet, he looks more vulnerable than he’s looked all day. How could you say no?

“Yeah,” you agree. 

You change into one of your favorite t-shirts of his and the pair of sweatpants that he always seems to give you as you get ready for bed. He doesn’t even wear them anymore, as if he knows they’ve become your favorite… as if they’ve just become yours. You spend the evening with the TV on, not talking, just sitting in each others’ company. You watch as he smokes a cigarette inside, stress-running a hand through his slicked back hair from his shift earlier. 

Tonight feels heavy. 

Tonight is heavy. 

Before bed, you fill up a glass of water for him, before placing it on his bedside table. Carmy lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, as you crawl into bed with him. 

He’s too afraid to his close his eye, because if he closes his eyes he’ll picture it: the State Street bridge, Michael…. 

How could he? he thinks to himself, the bitter taste of betrayal welling up at the bottom of his throat. 

You close your eyes, trying your best to fall asleep next to Carmy – something that feels like an impossible task when you can practically hear him thinking out loud beside you. Instead, the two of you just lay there, frozen in silence. You’re not sure how long you’ve been doing it for when you feel Carmy shift closer to you. 

He turns to you so tenderly, practically folding himself into your body, earning the smallest gasp of surprise from you. You’ve never seen him like this as he buries his face into your chest, his body shaking against yours. It’s then that you realize he’s crying, and you know it’s highly likely that this is the first time he’s cried since he heard the news. 

“Carm?” you whisper, unsure if he wants you to acknowledge it or not. 

“Carmy.” 

But he doesn’t respond. He just cries. 

So you let him. 

“I’m so sorry, Carm. I’m so sorry,” you whisper, over and over again. 

You stroke his hair, wanting nothing more than to ease the pain of your best friend, but you know there isn’t much you can do. Instead, you let him cry, running your fingers along his scalp and through his delicate curls, desperate to give him any kind of comfort you can. This is breaking your heart. You fight the tears coming to your eyes because this is so not about you right now. 

Carmy’s body shakes against yours as he finally lets go, surrendering to the huge waves of pain and grief that crash and pull him under. He feels like he’s being taken under a riptide, never to see the surface again. He knows he’s been wildly unfair to you and as he weeps against your body and he’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like you. 

Someone who chooses to say, even when he’s being a dick. 

Someone who cares enough to fight with him. 

Someone who cares for him like this. 

When he finally looks up at you with bloodshot eyes and swollen lips, all he can think to do is to kiss you. 

It catches you off guard as he surges forward, pressing his lips against yours, that for a moment, you let him. 

But reality hits and you’re afraid he’s gotten too carried away, swept up in a moment of grief. 

“Carmy, stop it. You’re not-, you’re not okay right now,” you murmur, pushing him away.

He leans his head against your chest again with a sigh, letting out another sob, almost as if he’s given up on the idea. You feel like he’s put you in an impossible position. You’d have been lying if you said you didn’t want to – hadn’t thought about kissing him before – but this felt wrong. He was vulnerable, and you know you’ll both regret it in the morning. 

“I’m sorry, Carm,” you apologize quietly. “I just feel like-, well I’d feel like I'd be taking advantage. I don’t think we should.”

His silence only makes you more nervous, beginning to over explain yourself.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I-, I do. I just… I don’t want you to regret it because… because you’re upset right now and cause you more-.”

“Please,” is all he says, cutting you off mid-sentence. With the way he’s looking at you, like you’re the sun, the moon, and you hang the stars, you’re not sure how to say no. 

Carmy leans in to kiss you once more before whispering mere inches away from your lips:

“Please.”

He presses his lips against yours again, immediately regretting his past self for not doing this sooner. He’s never tasted anything sweeter than you, and the way you kiss him back seems to bring all thoughts flooding his brain to a halt.

In between kisses you manage enough self control to stammer out, “Are you- are you sure? Is this really what you-?”

“Yes,” he replies, as if it’s a declaration.

“I’ve wanted this for so long. Just-, please,” he pleads, murmuring your name into the soft kisses he begins to leave across your collarbone. “Just wanna feel good.”

“Just wanna feel good,” he repeats. 

You surrender, letting go of your own ambivalence as you focus on the way his lips feel against your skin. It’s then that you realize what absolute fucking idiots the two of you had been for the past few years by ignoring this thing between the two of you. For a moment, you’ll tear down the walls, the rigid boundaries that you’ve kept to help you compartmentalize your relationship with Carmy. 

There’s no possibility of hiding from it when his body feels this good so close to yours. 

The truth is that you are fully, wholly, and stupidly in love with each other. 

“Yes,” you parrot.

With your confirmation, his mouth is back on yours, as you’re pulling him on top of you, deeper into your shared passionate liplock. He wonders why he’s denied himself the pleasure of having you, for this goddamn long. His tongue slides against yours, a tender hand moving up to cup your face. The way his name sounds tumbling out of your mouth sends him into a frenzy. It feels absolutely intoxicating and he can’t get enough. 

Carmy’s hands begin to wander, fingertips sliding at an experimental pace underneath the hem of the t-shirt you’re wearing. You shudder against his touch, gasping as you anticipate where this is going. 

Carmy raises his head to look at you, not sure if it’s a good thing or not. 

“This okay?” he asks you, concern evident in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you nod, giving him permission. “Yeah.”

“Okay,” he whispers.

And then he’s kissing you again, dragging calloused fingertips up and down your torso underneath the shirt, hesitantly making their way to where they’d like to be. You’re not wearing a bra, he realizes, as his fingertips find soft, supple skin at the rounded bottom of your breast. He follows the shape of it, before bringing a cautious palm up to grab hold of the fullness of your breast. You arch into his touch, encouraging him further. Carmy takes his time exploring your body, giving you the lightest touch as his fingertips graze your nipple. 

“Can I take this off?” he questions, only willing to move forward if you say yes.

You nod, breathlessly, “Please.”

You watch as he sits up, pushing the hem of your shirt up over your breasts, revealing your bare body to him. He has to hold back a groan, swallowing hard. 

Carmy stops what he’s doing, in pure awe of you, as he marvels at you. He can’t believe this is real: that you’re here, laying in his bed, allowing him to do the things he thought could only live in his head. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” are the words that tumble out of his mouth and you think you may cry. 

“Touch me,” you whisper desperately, begging him to come back to you. 

“Touch me, Carmy.”

Carmy lays his body over yours, and you spread your legs wider, allowing him to fit perfectly between them. He begins to roll his hips against yours as he returns his attention back to your bare breasts. He drags his fingertips over your erect nipples, following his touch with his mouth. 

He practically groans as he wraps his lips around one of your nipples, earning a strangled whine from you as his hot, wet mouth engulfs you. 

“Carmy,” you moan, arching into him. 

He’s rolling his hips against your clothed core on pure instinct, as he takes his time, now exploring unfamiliar territory with his lips and his tongue. You find a good rhythm as he continues to drag his mouth over you, grinding your hips into his underneath your remaining clothes. He’s surprisingly good at this – something you hadn’t expected considering he’d let you know he didn’t have much experience when it came to dating. You assumed that that meant sexually as well. 

As Carmy moves to your other breast, you feel one of his hands snake under the elastic waistband of your sweatpants, lifting his hips so he can feel you. You know you’ve soaked through your cotton panties from the anticipation, and it goes right to his dick as he feels just how wet you are. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he’s seen in porn. He begins to rub circles across your clothed core, while he busies his mouth with exploring your other breast. 

But he’s not quite where you want him.

“Wait,” you say, stopping him. 

Had he just gotten caught up in the moment?

Did you not want to go this far?

“Did I do something wrong?” he asks you, a concerned tone in his voice. 

“No,” you’re quick to reassure him, shaking your head. “No, I just-.”

Instead of explaining, you reach down to grab his hand, guiding him just a little higher up to your clit. He presses the rough pad of his index finger against it, finally touching you where you need him, gasping to let him know that he’s found the right spot. His eyes are locked on you, watching your face change as the new spot you’ve shown him brings you more pleasure than he could’ve imagined. 

He practically groans into your mouth when he hears the way you whine his name, and he swears he’ll do anything to hear you say it again. 

“There?” he asks you, rubbing tight circles across your clit. 

“Yes,” you pant, growing wetter with every touch. 

Carmy pulls away just for a moment, daring to touch you underneath your panties. You’re so wet for him, and he thinks he may lose his mind as he slides his index finger in between your folds curiously.

“Take them off,” you practically demand. 

“Hm?” he hums, lost in the way you look at him with hooded lids and pupils blown out with pure desire. 

He’s never been this guy. 

The guy that gets the girl. 

He never knew he could feel like this guy, but here you are, begging him to undress you. 

“I said take them off,” you repeat yourself, more desperate this time. You take a lighter approach with what you say next, the smallest giggle in your voice. “And while you’re at it, we gotta get you naked too.” 

“Yeah,” he says, with the kind of conviction he’d say ‘heard’ with. 

He’s stripping off his shirt, and you’re sliding your pants and underwear off with him. 

“I have a condom in my emergency kit,” you say, the both of you busy shedding your clothes. 

“Yeah?” he asks you, relieved to hear it. He hadn’t thought that far yet. 

“Yeah, hold on,” you reply, getting up from the bed. 

Carmy thinks he may pass out as he watches you stand, giving him a full view of your naked body. You disappear only for a moment, before returning with the small emergency kit you always keep in your backpack. It’s equipped with all the ‘just-in-cases:’ tampons, panty liners, safety pins… condoms. You pull out a single condom before returning to the bed. Carmy’s kneeling on the bed, and you mirror his body language, doing the same. 

“What would you like to do?” you inquire softly. 

As turned on and hot for him as you are, you want to make sure that he still wants to do this. He finds himself surprised at your question, not sure how to answer it. 

“Think we can just pick up where we left off?” he asks you. 

“Yeah,” you reply. 

You place the condom down beside you on the bed, before leaning in to press your lips against his again. He inhales as you kiss him, his tongue immediately sliding against yours as one of his hands goes to the back of your head, pulling you closer to him. He’s surprised as you pull away from him, beginning to leave hot, open mouthed kisses down his neck, his chest, and he hisses in anticipation as run your hands down his muscular abdomen, following with your mouth. 

“Hold on, I uh-,” he stutters out, as he anticipates where you’re going with this. 

You pause, sitting up tall as you kneel, your body across from his. 

“I just uh… if you do that, I don’t know if I’ll last long,” he admits, a blush running across his cheeks. 

“Yeah, no. Totally cool,” you reassure him, before crashing your lips against his once again. 

As you tangle your tongues together once again, Carmy begins to lead you down towards the bed, pushing you back, and climbing on top of you. He still has his sweatpants on, so you begin to bring your hands down to them. He hisses as you cup his rock hard erection, pleasantly surprised by what you feel. 

“Wanna take these off?” you ask in between kisses. 

“Yeah,” Carmy nods, sitting up for a moment. 

You wait with baited breath as he strips his sweatpants off, wondering if he’s as thick as he feels. You’re practically pulsing, squeezing around nothing as you finally see him, Carmy, your best friend, fully naked. 

God, he’s beautiful. 

How had you not noticed how physically attractive he was? 

It’s not that you hadn’t noticed. It’s that you hadn’t let yourself think about it. 

You reach over to where you left the condom, handing it to him. Carmy takes it, a blush running across his cheeks as he rolls it on, still in disbelief that you’re about to do this. He returns to you, laying his body over top of you as you space for him once again between your legs. He’s hesitant to give you his full bodyweight as he gives you a long, passionate kiss. And before he knows it, you’re reaching down to stroke him, and he’s thrusting into your hand, his breath becoming heavier and heavier. 

You feel him as he presses his tip against you, rubbing it up and down before pushing into you. You both gasp as he gives you shallow thrusts, testing the waters, thrusting deeper into you with each one.

He pauses, exhaling as he’s fully inside of you. You’re pulsing around him, practically causing him to lose his mind with the way you feel alone.

“Fffffuck, you feel good,” he moans, trying not to cum right then and there. 

He begins giving you shallow, hesitant thrusts, unsure of himself. He wants to make you feel good. And he’s also terrified that this is going to end before it’s even properly started. 

Carmy stops again, pausing within you. 

“Sorry, I just-.” 

“No, it’s okay. Take your time.”

He’s nervous. You can tell he’s nervous and that he’s trying not to cum. 

“How about… I take control?” you suggest, hesitantly. “And that way, if you need me to stop we can um… well, you can just tell me.”

“Uh… yeah,” he agrees with a nod. “Sure.” 

Clumsily, the two of you switch positions, making sure he knows you’re okay with this. As he lies on his back, staring up at you, you straddle his hips, giving him the smallest smile. You reach down, guiding him into you once again. You gasp as he fills you, his thick cock stretching you, especially in this position. Carmy’s hands go to your hips as he watches you take him. 

“You feel really good too, Carm,” you finally say, your hands moving to his chest to brace yourself as you begin shifting your hips forward and back at the most unbearably slow pace. 

Carmy thinks he must be dreaming as he watches you ride him. His hands slide over your hips, wrapping around your body so that he can touch your butt. He’s practically digging the pads of his fingers into your hips as you begin moving over him at a faster pace. 

“Shit… you’re really good at this,” he groans, as you lean down to kiss him. 

You giggle against his lips, and whatever thoughts he has in his head disappear. Carmy begins thrusting up into you, his hands on your hips encouraging you to move a little faster as you kiss him. You’re moaning his name, whining as you feel every single inch of his cock slide against your walls, becoming more and more breathless by the minute. Your gasps turn into moans, getting higher in pitch as you go. His hands are guiding your hips, taking some control back as you grind against each other. 

“Carmy,” you cry out as he thrusts his hips hard into you. “If you keep doing that, I’m gonna cum.” 

“Yeah?” he asks. You nod, breathless, as you bury your face into his chest. 

He holds your hips down, pinning you down against him as pushing his hips into yours. 

“You wanna switch?” he asks, breathless. “Can I-?” 

“Please,” you reply eagerly.

You switch positions once more, and as Carmy guides himself into you again, you can tell he’s much more confident than last time you’d found yourself in this position. You wrap a leg around his waist and he holds you there, beginning to move his hips against yours again. He works his way up to a rapid pace, his face turning red as he does, and you’re writhing underneath his body, whispering the dirtiest things into his ear with every single thrust.

“Holy shit, Carmy. You feel so goddamn good too,” you praise him. “God, you’re gonna make me cum.”

“Yeah?” he manages to get out in between grunts. 

“Yes. Please let me cum,” you beg him, as he hits that spot inside of you, earning another loud cry. 

“Don’t stop.”

He’s surprised to learn that he likes it when you beg as he tangles his fingers with yours, pinning you down so that he can fuck you. With your hand in his, so close to your climax, you let slip:

“I thought about this too. I’ve wanted this for so long too, Carmy.”

“Fuck,” he howls as he drives into you, his sole purpose to earn more praise from you. To hear you cry out his name. To give you what you’ve been begging for. 

You angle your hips upward so that he can go even deeper, hitting all the way to the back of you. You’re grasping at his back, his arms, his biceps, hanging onto any piece of him that you can as he shudders, letting out the most guttural sounds. You’re squeezing around him, as he takes you to your high. The feeling of you cumming, squeezing around him like your life depends on it drive him wild, and he’s fucking you through it, the feeling of your orgasm bringing him to his. 

As you finally come down, you pull Carmy in for a searing kiss. 

“Holy shit, Carm,” you say, breathlessly. 

“Yeah,” he pants against your lips. 

Even if just for tonight, all feels right in the world. 

This feels right. 

*

The light of day is sobering. Before Carmy’s even had a chance to open his eyes, the events of the day before come flooding in, running in vicious circles around his mind: the phone call from Sugar, Richie screaming at him… and then…. 

Fuck. 

He’d crossed the line with you. 

He doesn’t know whether to be mad at himself or devastated that he fucked up, considering he’s sure as hell not going to let himself feel anything about Mikey yet. 

Michael. 

Michael’s dead. 

And he might’ve done the one thing he swore he wouldn’t do – the one thing that he’d been afraid of: that he might just lose you. 

As you stir in bed next to him, slowly blinking your eyes open, you turn over on your side. Carmy’s sitting on the edge of the bed and you can see Carmy’s stuck in his head. While you’d let yourself surrender to whatever that was last night, you knew today was different. 

“Hey,” is all you say, hugging Carmy’s bed sheets closer to your naked body. 

“Um… listen. We don’t have to-,” you begin, searching for the right words. “Let’s just forget about this, okay? I don’t-. You’ve got a lot going right now and-.”

You take a breath. You know the two of you can’t be together right now, even after your revelation last night. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

Carmy swallows, fighting back the emotions that begin to swell in his chest. 

He feels sick to his stomach. 

But he doesn’t want to do this in front of you. 

“Yeah, no. We can… we can just forget it,” is all he gets out, his eyes fixed on the floor. 

“You sure?” you question. 

He takes a beat before answering:

“I don’t want to lose you either.” 

And even with the declaration you’d made – the promise to forget since neither of you could afford to lose each other – things had become different. In the weeks following, your communications with Carmy were less than normal. While you understood he was processing, grieving, he’d withdrawn from you, and it hurt more than you had the words for. 

You’d check in, making sure he knew you were here for him if he needed to talk. But he put his head down, working night after night at the restaurant, cold, stoic, and checked out. You worried about him. And you also knew that you both needed some space from each other. 

Some days you regret it – sleeping together – and other days, you don’t. You think that maybe everyone had been right about the two of you all along – that this had been inevitable. But it happened under the worst timing, the worst circumstances and you miss your best friend. You wish, in some ways, that two of you could just go back to normal.

read: chapter five

taglist: @allthefandomstogether @gaysludge @sobshoney @harrysmatcha @starbritestarlite @tpwkkmila @cool-girl-is-hot @nunya7394 @galaxyprincess51-blog @carmensberzattos @blue-weekends @rexorangecouny @ridingthehotmessexpress @the-nursery

[tomssexdoll]

I can't get enough of you

PAIRINGS: Bill 2011 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Bill and Y/N have a very toxic marriage, they fight over almost anything. One day he comes home late again and Y/N decides to confront him, when it gets heated, things take a turn...

A/N: HIII ALL, collabing with the wonderful @itsangelll, she is such a sweetheart and we worked so hard on this <3 I wrote the angst and she wrote the smut and fluff, I hope you guys enjoy!!!

WARNINGS: dom!bill, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), a lot of arguing and yelling, physical violence (not super bad)

Me and Bill were forced to get married, the promise of our businesses improving if we did. We obviously agreed to this, wanting to make as much money and deals as we could. Our marriage wasn't healthy or fulfilling at all, it was very toxic and bitter.

We had a lot of sex, mainly during the middle of an argument, we were both very stubborn and immature, not willing to accept our mistakes. We did have good moments, not all were bad, sometimes he'd hold me and tell me how much he loved me, how much he cared but his actions would speak volumes, most nights he'd be gone, coming home at ridiculous times, lying to me constantly, so did he really love me?

We had multiple fights a week, some even becoming physical, one got so bad that he nearly succeeded in throwing a chair at my head. We really did hate being like that towards each other but we couldn't help it, work was stressful and the pressure of being the top 1 mafia bosses in the world.

He came home late one day again, saying goodbye to all his buddies as they sped off, he fiddled with the door before swinging it open and slamming it shut. I was in the lounge, it was pitch black and I had a cigarette lit, my legs crossed. I wanted to scare him, to make him mad, anything.

As he went to walk up the stairs I startled him with my voice, "where the fuck where you Bill?" "fucking hell, don't scare me like that, why are you in the dark?" he grumbled, turning on the light, noticing my red, puffy eyes.

"Have..have you been crying?" he scoffed, "as a matter of fact, yes, I was worried fucking sick, what if you were dead on the fucking road and I didn't know?" I raised my voice, taking a long drag from my burning cigarette.

"Oh shut up, it's not like you give a shit if I was dead or alive, let me have fun, I've been stuck with you for a week for work," he went over to the liquor cabinet, taking out his aged whiskey and sitting in his chair, pouring the burnt umber drink into the glass.

"You're a fucking asshole, you know that right?" I glared at him, "oh trust me I know," he lit a cigarette as well, "you tell me every day, just as I tell you you're a bitch everyday," he gave me a sarcastic smile, rolling his eyes and taking a huge sip from the whiskey.

"I can't believe you just go out, stay out till 5 in the morning and come home and expect me to greet you with milk and fucking cookies, you are a pathetic excuse for a husband!" I yelled, "don't fucking yell at me, you drive me up the wall!" he yelled back, getting up from his chair and storming over to me, grabbing my wrist and pulling me up, towering over me.

"Oh you think you scare me? Nice fucking try" I snatched my wrist away, blowing the smoke in his face. He just stood there, eyes burning into mine, a certain rage taking over him.

"You are so fucking controlling, can't a grown man go wherever he wants?" he huffed, his chest heaving up and down in anger. "Oh controlling am I? Aren't you the one who gets mad at me for looking in a guys direction, beats up any man who talks to me, refuses to let me go out when I'm wearing something short? Oh yeah I'm controlling," I scoffed, shaking my head.

"At least I have good reasons, you're getting upset over me being out late, suck it the fuck up," he spat, his words cruel. "You don't get it do you? It's not the fact that you're out late, I don't give a shit do what you want, it's the fact that you never tell me where you're at and I'm sitting here at 4am wondering if i should call people to see where the fuck you are, sorry I give a fuck about you is that so fucking bad?" I rasied my voice, anger flowing through my veins.

"You make me so fucking mad.." he grunted, walking closer to me, narrowing his eyes at me. "Boo fucking hoo, you're a grown man aren't you? Learn how to deal with your emotions properly," I rolled my eyes, he grabbed me by my hair pulled me close, "don't fucking speak to me that way!" he yelled, inches away from my face

I pushed him off me, slapping him harshly on the face, "don't fucking touch me! Don't you ever put your hands on me again!" I screamed, "I could fucking kill you right now!" he yelled back.

"Shoot me then, fucking shoot me!" I yelled, vein buldging out on my forehead. We just stood there, silent for a second, both of our chests heaving up and down in anger.

Without another word Bill grabbed me by my waist and kissed me passionately, his tongue entering my mouth, searching for dominance, "you're so fucking whiny aren't you?" he muttered between kisses, hand hand roughly slapping my ass, I couldn't help but moan.

He pulled away from the kiss, a string of saliva parting from my mouth, grabbing my hand and taking me upstairs, he had a pretty strong grip, I almost couldn't keep up.

When we made it to our room, he threw me on the bed, towering over me. His dark brown orbs filled with such lust, wasting no time, he ripped my shirt off, then my jeans, leaving me in nothing but my black lace set of lingiere.

Bill groaned at the sight, a large tent forming in his pants, "you're so pretty f'me schatzi.." he said in a raspy voice, my breath hitched, my core getting even more wet. Even though Bill was sometimes a complete prick, I couldn't help the affect he had on me.

He unclasped my bra and ripped off my underwear, my nipples and wet cunt exposed to the cool air, a shiver went down my spine as he ran his fingers over my breasts. I whined, "don't be a tease Billy, this isn't fair!" he smirked and lifted my chin up, "does my doll want me to fuck her dumb, hm? Is that what you want?" his knee was rubbing my clit non stop, I could burst at any second, nodding desperatly. Bill, without any hesitation removed his belt in one swift move, his jeans and boxers pooling at his ankles, letting his cock spring free.

Even though we've fucked so many times, I could never get over how big he was. Bill swiped a finger over my folds, now coated with my arousal, "I haven't even done anything yet and you're already wet for me doll, you're just that desperate aren't you?" I couldn't answer, he snickered and without warning, he slammed into me, then pulling out fully before filling me up once again. I moaned loudly, the way his cock fit my pussy was amazing.

His hands made their way down to my waist, gripping tightly, bound to leave marks tomorrow. "Fuck, jesus, you feel s'good around my cock love, gonna fill this slutty hole with my cum" he groaned lowly.

Bill moved at a rapid pace, his tip kissing your cervix perfectly. Moans were spilling out of me uncontrollably, I was in pure ecstacy, my walls clenched around him every time he hit that gummy spot, the knot in my stomach growing tighter with each passing second.

"Mmm! Bill, fuck fuck! I'm close!" I whined, he moved his hand down to my clit, rubbing his thumb in fast circles, "cum in this cock for me doll," he whispered, pushing me over the edge,

Those words were all I nodded to hear, my legs shaking, bringing me over the brink. I screamed out his name, cumming all over his cock, "fuck baby, that's it!" Bill let out a low growl before shooting his cum inside me, thank god I was on the pill.

He collapsed on top of me, lifting his head and pressing a kiss to my temple, "you okay my sweet girl? Did I go too rough?" he said in a worry, I smiled, "yes, Billy i'm okay, it was amazing" I replied.

"I'm sorry about the fight earlier liebe.." he sighed, "you just mean to much to me and I can't lose you ever, I don't how what I'd do without you," I was in awe, "Billy..you aren't ever going to lose me, I promise you that," usually he was cold and bitter, leaving me to fall asleep on my own after fucking me in a fit of rage, but this time, he had a change of heart.

I took his hand in mine, kissing him passionately, I really did love him. Even though we were very toxic to each other, I didn't want to ever lose him, he's the reason I keep waking up every day, the reason I want to live life to the fullest.

He's always stayed loyal, always given me what I want, he may lack respect and love sometimes but we can work on it. "I really want us to change our ways, I hate fighting all the time, you mean so much to me," I whispered, looking into his eyes.

"Me too baby, me too, we can make it work," he smiled, sincerity in his expression.

tags: @itsmealaiah @itsangelll @kaulitzsbabyy @ella1289 @tomsonlyslut @ballhair @charliesgoodboy @ge-billsgf @bkaulitzlover @estxkios @miyukafujii

[creedslove]

DESERVE IT - PART FIVE

Javier Peña x f!reader

Summary: You and Javier are sent to a conversation with Messina who determines you get relocated to another department, which means you are drifting away from Javier even more and that makes your relationship even more complicated

Warnings: a tiny little bit of fluff in the beginning, mentions of smut, angst, jealousy, disappointment, kind of stalker!javi

A/N: I wasn't sure if Javi's boss would be Carrillo or Messina because honestly I didn't pay attention to the plot of Narcos at all, because I was busy with a slut agent and a certain drug dealer (yes Wagner Moura I am talking about you), so I just picked Messina because I guess she would handle the situation better

• PART ONE

• PART TWO

• PART THREE

• PART FOUR

5k words

You sat on the chair looking away as Murphy handcuffed Carlos and made sure he wasn't going anywhere.

Some other cops came over to find out what was happening but you just wanted to disappear from that place and never come back.

You couldn't leave, you would have to formally declare a statement explaining your side of the situation as you'd been attacked by a co-worker. Technically, according to the DEA and the Embassy rules you hadn't done anything wrong. What the agents did when they were off duty was none of their business and it didn't matter to them if you had set up for Carlos or if he was just unlucky to be caught by his wife during one of his escapades.

With the war against Pablo Escobar getting worse each day, the organs couldn't care less if an agent was having an affair.

However, they did care about agents attacking each other. That was why Carlos was immediately suspended and had to hand in his badge and gun, which made you more relieved than you'd like to admit. Now, you'd gotten away with the situation but Javier was still unclear of what was going on. He'd immobilized the attacker and saved the day, with a lot more violence and strength then required, he held him at gunpoint in front of an entire office and that was something that didn't weigh in his favor.

You both would have to talk to Messina later that day, but all you wanted was to go home and lock yourself up. You wanted to shower, change clothes and pretend that never happened, you began feeling sick, nausea and shivers traveled through your body. You hated how your emotional state affected your physical health. It'd always been like that: at the smallest sign of emotional inconvenience, your body would take a toll on it.

You rubbed your arms in order to warm up, as the tip of your fingers were ice cold but as someone had read your mind, a leather jacket had been placed on top of your back. You looked up and found Javier trying to make you wear his jacket.

He had a cup in his hand and he lowered himself "have this Y/N… I asked Colleen to make you some tea, your stomach is probably upset" he said with those stupid brown warm eyes "Messina wants to see us soon, so you gotta be alright, cariño" he cupped your cheek gently and got up again so he could handle Carlos with Steve's help.

Fuck Javier.

Fuck Javier Peña.

How dare he after all he did to you, after all he made you go through, after breaking your heart just try and sweet talk you with this cheap act of pretending to care?

Yes, he had saved you, and you were thankful to him, you were not an ungrateful little bitch, but he could have done his job without crossing any lines. Now he was offering you tea and jackets as if he cared, as if he hadn't treated you like a total stranger for the past month, after being so cruel and humiliating you like you never expected him to do.

You were not gonna let him win you over that fast, but first things first, you had an appointment with Messina that could cost a lot to you, maybe not your job, but if she decided to punish you somehow you'd be screwed.

Murphy walked to you and was just as gentle as Javi was and for a moment you almost felt sorry for giving him the cold shoulder, so you thanked him for his reassuring words

"We'll go to Messina's in a while, I just need to go to the bathroom first" you informed them and disappeared into it, locking the door and throwing some water onto your face.

You sighed deeply, watching your own reflection as you shook your head in disbelief at the warmth you felt between your folds.

For a second you had hopes your period had come unannounced so you got into the bathroom stall and pulled your panties down.

To say you were wet was an understatement.

You were soaked.

You couldn't believe yourself, you felt a mix of anger and shame at the realization Javier's display of protectiveness and violence turned you on. The way he just went all feral towards Carlos, punching him, using all his strength against him just to calm down and cold bloody point a gun at him, for you, was enough to have you like a little puta for Javier.

Maybe Carlos was right on one thing: you were a slut, too bad you were it for the wrong man.

If none of that shit had gone on between the two of you, you'd certainly spend the night alternating between sitting on his cock and sitting on his face as a thank you.

You felt your clit twitching at the thought and immediately pulled yourself together, getting decent again and washing your face once more, blocking these kinds of thoughts as best as you could.

•••

You and Javier were placed in front of Messina for the past hour. The two of you giving your own accounts of what had happened. She never interrupted you and eventually took notes here and there. You'd downed the third glass of water by then, feeling nervous at the whole situation. It felt like you were sent to the principal's office and while Javier handled the situation smoothly throwing his charms at her here and there, you were obviously tense.

The woman analyzed the situation carefully, she knew the behavior on all parts were extremely inadequate and even scolded you for coming up with your little devious plan. What agents and employees of DEA did in their free time was their business, but they expected those activities to not interfere in the daily routine of the investigations. You swore you had to bite your tongue so you wouldn't ask her the same applied to Javier using the contributors' money to pay for hookers with the horrible excuse of informative intel.

But you decided it would be best if you didn't make things worse than they already were.

Messina, on the other hand, was a powerful woman who had to struggle a lot to accomplish things and work twice as hard just because she was a woman. So she definitely knew what you went through with Carlos and though she couldn't really take sides, deep down she was satisfied with the lesson he learned.

She scolded Javier some more for his reckless actions and reminded him he had better ways to handle the situation, but when he promised he wouldn't do it again, she finished the meeting.

"Uh, Y/N… before you go, I must tell you your request to be transferred to another country was denied" you nodded shyly and saw when Javier's neck head snapped at you, shocked to hear you'd asked for a transfer, he swallowed and licked his lips, as he couldn't get his eyes off you, listening carefully as his heart raced and dropped at his toes to know you'd asked to leave the country.

"With this war we have going on against the narcos we can't afford losing any members of the team. You do a very good job and your reports are essential for us" she explained "however, with this situation, you will be assigned to another department, the lower floor, you can work for a couple of months in the crime division where things aren't as stressful as your current job is… it is temporary, just so the gossip dies and you find a break from all the stress" you nodded silently accepting her decision. On one hand you were disappointed to know you weren't leaving Colombia any sooner, on the other hand, you were thankful things went way better than expected, of course it was a demotion but you wouldn't have to work directly with Javier anymore.

You excused yourself and left her room, going outside the building as you pretended you didn't hear Javier's voice calling your name.

You stood at the sidewalk waiting for a chance to cross the street and felt his grip on your wrist, pulling you to him and making you look at him.

"Goddamn it Y/N, not even today you can actually look at me and talk to me?" He asked frustrated and pinched the bridge of his nose, when all he got from you was an eye roll.

"So you were just gonna flee the country and not tell anyone? One day I'd wake up to you gone? Is it because of me?"

You sighed and looked at him, feeling a mix of exhaustion, sadness and impatience.

"I hate my job, Javier. I hate the people I work with, I hate Colombia. I know I sound horrible when I say this, but I don't care about Escobar or what he does, I just stopped caring about all this, I just stopped and asked myself what I was doing with my life, I'm not happy here, not anymore, I have nothing to hold me back, so what's the point in staying anyway?"

He shook his head, he had no idea you felt like that, of course he knew he had hurt you, pretty bad, but not to that extent. He felt a wave of guilt and regret.

"But what about us, cariño?"

You smiled sadly "there is no 'us' Javi. There never was. Listen, I'm very thankful for what you did today, you saved me, you risked your physical integrity and your job just to make sure I was safe, but we can't pretend things haven't happened between us" you explained to him.

"Cariño, listen I want to apologize…"

"I don't wanna hear your apologies Javier, you don't mean them, it doesn't change how you feel about me, so let's just get over this okay? Eventually I'll leave Colombia hopefully it will be sooner than later and all this will be a fun story to tell your friends or something" you shrugged.

Javi didn't let go of your wrist, he looked into your eyes, searching for some kind of breach he could find affection or softness but there was nothing.

"No, you can't leave, I'll mi-"

"If you miss me you can just call that hooker I met the other night, she looks a lot like me, you won't even notice the difference"

You turned your back to him and walked away, leaving Javier standing there, watching you slip away from him even further.

•••

Your first day in the crime division started out great just by the fact you didn't have to see Colleen's stupid face. You didn't know why you began hating the woman, she hadn't done anything to you, in fact she'd always been kind of nice and very polite. But then, a memory hit you: the day Javier complimented her nails and how every week after that she would show up with a different nail polish, in hopes he'd pay attention to her again. Every time he took a coffee break she would be there, lingering around like a ghost until she would find a pathetic excuse to go and talk to him.

Then she would laugh too hard at his dumb jokes and would place her hand on his bicep, pretending it was an innocent touch.

You groaned annoyed at the sudden memory and at the fact you were actually caring about that, when you were literally not seeing them again. Of course you could still run into them in the building, and mostly run into Javier in your apartment building, but you would have a break from them from 9 to 5 and that was a good enough reason to be happy.

You shook your head clearing your mind and telling yourself you were just anxious about working in a new division. Of course your tasks would be the same, but out go Escobar's files and files and in come other police occurrences such as thefts and physical aggressions, mostly coming from drunk guys who always got into fights with each other, or so you've told.

You were so distracted you didn't see a tall figure approaching you, you only felt that figure when you bumped into him and almost lost your balance thanks to your high heels you put on earlier in the morning trying to cause a good impression.

Of course you never hit the ground because the figure held by the waist, preventing you from falling.

"Lo siento, señorita" he said and helped you up.

And then you looked at the mysterious figure.

He was taller than you, strong and had beautiful brown eyes. Not like Javi's, Javier's eyes were from a deep brown, they made you think of chocolate, hot chocolate in a cold morning to be more specific, but this guy… his eyes were light brown, the kind of color that shifts according to the lights of the room, making them even greenish, and the eyelashes were pretty long for a man, giving him an expressive look.

You were lost in his eyes. You fell for the stranger's eyes right there and then and your heart raced when you noticed he had his hand on your waist.

"You must be Y/N, I'm agent Manuel Herrera, but you can call me Manu if you want" he gave you a smile and you smiled back.

Manu explained you he was the one who was supposed to welcome you in the division but he ran late after a new case came up.

You assured him it was fine and thanked him when he led you to your desk, helping you empty your box and organize your working material.

"You know, Y/N, news travels fast here and we all know what happened to Carlos and rumor has it you were responsible for it" he saw how you blushed and though you didn't deny or nor confirm it, he could tell rumor was true. "Well, I just want you to say we are all relieved he's not around anymore, he was an unpleasant guy and especially the ladies in the office really appreciated what you did… or what you didn't do" he winked at you and excused himself.

And just like that, you realized you had a crush on Manu.

It happened fast, but it was so refreshing to know you could move on, you could get interested in other guys. He was nice, smart, painfully handsome and for the first time since you arrived in Colombia you hadn't thought of Javier's whereabouts or felt a pang of jealousy to wonder if he would pick up a girl at a bar for the night or just call a brothel and have his fuck delivered like chinese food.

After the first week, Manu gathered enough courage to invite you for lunch, he assumed you would just hang out from the DEA people, but when he saw you were about to stay at your desk during your lunch break, he invited you out.

First, he decided to take you to a small restaurant down the street, the food was good, the price was reasonable but having his company was better.

Then, the next day, he took you to a small place that sold the best arepas you'd eaten in your whole life.

Turns out, Javier really liked Arepas and he decided to have some for lunch, but when he was about to step inside he saw you had another guy. He thought he'd seen the man before but he couldn't remember exactly when, he knew he was a cop, but he just hadn't paid attention, unlike you who had been clearly paying a lot of attention to him.

Javi felt his blood boiling at how beautiful you looked when you smiled at him and kept telling him whatever you were so passionately talking about. He hadn't seen you since the day at the Embassy, of course he'd caught glimpses of you leaving the building or arriving when he was still in his car. He'd heard you at home, dragging your furniture around for your monthly clean up, or when you put on some record and probably spent the evening singing along. The smell of your cooking almost every damn night taunting him but none of that was worse than when he caught just a whiff of your perfume in the hallway.

It was the worst part to him, because it reminded him you were still there, across the hall, a few meters away from him, and yet you were no longer in his life. As if you were just a memory, a ghost of his past, you were so out of reach it broke his heart.

And when he saw you smiling at that guy just like you used to smile at him, it gutted him.

He turned around before either of you could spot him and walked back to his car.

Javier couldn't believe that. You were really going on lunch dates with that guy? Sure he was attractive, he figured, but didn't you like him? Then why were you out with that guy?

It just didn't make sense to him, he didn't want to believe you'd actually move on from him. Javi hadn't really thought of the future, he knew the healthiest for you would actually move on, you deserved someone good for you, someone who could make you happy, who could treat you like you deserved being treated, someone that could give you a relationship where you loved and you were loved, where you could trust your partner, where you could have a family, get married, have kids, not someone who would screw things up in the first opportunity.

But it stung.

Javier had no idea it would sting that bad. Saying had always been easier than doing, and while he kept that protective speech over you, things were alright, but the moment the possibility of it becoming true was presented before his eyes, god, that hurt.

He was at a loss of actions, he didn't know what to do or what to say. The rest of the afternoon he spent off his game, with Murphy having to repeat himself over and over, Javi asking the same questions, dropping his pen, fuck, he even spilled his coffee once. Because all he could think of was you.

He decided to leave early and wait around until it was time for you to go home, feeling a pang in his chest when he spotted the guy, Manu, he soon afterwards learned, walking you home.

He hated that scene but he also couldn't look away, you seemed so happy, you talked and smiled like you hadn't done it for months, like you hadn't done since he screwed things up.

And for the next few days that was what his routine turned into.

Javier would wake up early and watch you go to work, then he would take the stairs to the lower floor when it was lunchtime and watch from afar as you and Manu went for lunch together, then when you would come back, usually with a popsicle or a lollipop in hands, a treat he always got you for dessert. On the weekends he would watch through the window as you went out, knowing you were out to meet him. It was a habit that was consuming him, it left a bitter taste in his mouth, it was like smoking a cigarette, no matter how harmful it was to him, he just couldn't stop.

He only convinced himself it was time to let go when he saw Manu kissing your lips in front of the apartment building. He wanted to yell, to drag you away from him, to make you understand you shouldn't be with that guy, you should be with him, but he couldn't. There was nothing he could do about it, he had lost you for good, he knew that, so he grabbed his wallet, his car keys and drove downtown. He parked in front of the brothel he knew so well and walked to the reception.

"Quiero a Mari y solamente a ella esta noche" he commanded, not wasting time in being polite or flirty. He wanted a service, and it wasn't cheap, so he wasn't going to pretend he was a nice guy. He wasn't one.

Mari showed up about fifteen minutes after, she had just washed her body and smiled at him with fiery eyes, walking to the man and kissing his lips.

There she was, the version of you he could actually have, all he had to do was pay for it. She resembled you, you both had a similar body type, similar hair and if he got intoxicated enough, he could close his eyes and pretend he had your body against his.

"Vamos cariño, voy a llamarte de Y/N hoy" he whispered into her ear, pretending it was your neck he kissed.

As they were both in the room, Javi sat on the bed and pulled her to his lap, kissing her and burying his face between her breasts.

But she didn't smell like you, she didn't feel like you, and no matter how hard he tried focusing and thinking of the night you'd kissed him, nothing happened.

Javi gasped and looked down ashamed and then back at the woman, who got off him and didn't say anything. He ran his hands through his hair as he groaned in sheer frustration, he just couldn't get hard.

She even tried to get him to action, but it wasn't happening, Javi was dragged each time to your kiss with Manu. How he cupped you cheek and kissed your lips at the same time you his tugged the hem of his shirt and pulled hid body closer to yours.

Javier left the brothel livid, he'd paid for the service he couldn't get and smoked a cigarette on the street, blaming it on you and that man for everything bad that was happening to him.

•••

On Monday you separated a couple of files that had been sent to the wrong department and got ready to take the elevator and go to upper floor. Ever since you started dating Manu, you felt more confident about yourself and seeing Javier wasn't necessarily a problem. You knew you'd made things pretty clear between the two of you and of course Colleen being the envious puta she was, spread the news you were seeing a coworker to everybody, it wouldn't surprise you if even Pablo's sicarios knew about your relationship.

It wasn't the first time documents had been misplaced and all you had to do was to leave them on Murphy's desk and return, so you wanted to get things over with.

You passed by Colleen without giving her the time of the day, she annoyed you in a way it was beyond words and you always preferred to think she didn't exist.

"Y/N!" She called a couple of times, making you stop and turn around "Steve and Javi aren't here, so just you know…" you gritted your teeth and faked a smile.

"Thank you for your great service Colleen" you said and kept walking.

Your threw the files on Murphy's desk and couldn't help but glance at Carlos' old desk. As you'd heard, apparently no one had been hired or promoted to take over his job, instead, all of his investigation and internal job was assigned to both Murphy and Peña.

There was a time you would've probably got a great part of it, so you would help them with the ridiculous amount of work coming in, but that time was gone and now you didn't have to take over anyone's jobs, just doing your own and worrying about leaving work in time to meet your handsome Manu.

However, you noticed some files and a big yellow envelope on his desk. You looked around and saw the department was almost completely empty as it was almost time for the end of the shift.

You didn't know exactly why you got so curious and let alone why you began fumbling through those documents that certainly didn't concern you. But the yellow envelope dragged your attention in a way you just felt attracted to it, as if your intuition was telling you to check it.

You battled with yourself whether you should open it or not.

Correction: you shouldn't open it and you knew it, but for whatever reason you were so curious about it and all you could read was 'CARLOS' written in capital letters, in red ink. You told yourself it would be fine, just some intel from whoever Carlos' informant was. Worst case scenario it would be something boring and you would just leave it on Steve's desk.

So you took another glance around the room to make sure no one was watching you and opened the envelope, gasping at the content inside.

After the stressful meeting with Messina, both Javi and Steve were in low spirits, Connie still hadn't returned and the American agent had no motivation or reason to be home early, so he invited Javier for a few drinks. However, Javi wasn't in the mood for that. He was tired, stressed and the days seemed to be dragging on. He felt lonely and the less thing that still brought him some pleasure was a delicate matter as he hadn't been able to get hard for any women.

Sure, he could still rub one off thinking of Y/N, but each time he tried doing it with a woman, it felt like he had some kind of block that wouldn't let him go further.

He dropped Steve off at the bar and drove home, shrugging at the idea Y/N was probably out with her boyfriend on a cute date he'd rather think, because it was way more comforting than picturing you sucking another man's cock.

He looked at your table and thought of knocking on it, maybe just to see you, hear your voice, but he immediately gave up.

He got his key but frowned when he noticed his door was unlocked, which was alarming as Javier was sure he'd locked the door before. He immediately got his gun, getting inside silently and walking around, checking every dark corner for threats or unpleasant surprises.

Javier went speechless to find you sitting on his couch. It took him a moment to process how the fuck you got inside, but then you remembered how you two had exchanged spair keys to your apartments and completely forgot about it.

He was about to question you, when he heard your sniffs and saw you were crying. He went completely soft and walked to you.

"Y/N" he whispered and knelt in front of you, concern flooding through his body as he cupped your cheek and stroke it so gently. He wiped your tears with his thumb and you only then realized how big his hands really were.

You shook your head and looked into his eyes, disappointment shattering your heart as you gathered the courage to speak.

"What happened, cariño? Talk to me? Was it your boyfriend? Did he hurt you? Carlos?" He asked as he stared at your with the biggest warmest brown eyes you'd ever seen.

You handed him the envelope and watched as Javi emptied it on his coffee table.

"Los Pepes, Javier?" You finally asked, as you both stared at pictures of him meeting up at a bar with one of the group's sicarios.

"Since when you've been a double agent, Javi? Is all this a lie? How long have you been lying to the DEA? To me?" You asked him, and the disappointment in your voice just ripped his heart apart. You thought he was a dirty cop, he shook his head, feeling despair spread through his body as he looked for words to explain to you the mess he got himself into.

But took his hand away from your face and wiped your tears.

"After everything that went on between us, I thought that at least you were a good cop, Javi… I thought at least you would keep safe, but once again, I see I'm wrong" you swallowed.

Javier couldn't handle you being that disappointed in him, it broke his heart and he just couldn't live with you hating him as a whole.

He ran to you, pressing you against the wall and using his own body to trap you. He looked at you and buried his face in the crook of you neck, taking in your intoxicating perfume, his nose ghosting against your skin before you could feel his lips on it.

He mumbled something under his breath but you couldn't actually understand, you tried using your arms to break free from his grip, but his kept yours in place.

He looked at you as he dragged his face over your cleavage, just in the curve of your breasts he buried his face again, spreading small kisses all over your skin, he pulled your blouse down exposing your cleavage a little more and kissed your breasts gently.

You were taken aback by his soft, gentle and desperate touch. Your body felt on fire but you needed to fight that urge of submitting to him.

"I-I'm not gonna tell anyone, Javier. I promise" your voice was weak but you finally pushed him away the moment he got distracted when he tasted your skin gently and panted.

"I'm not a dirty cop, Y/N. I'm not" he said looking just as broken and you realized that was what he was mumbling against your neck, against your breasts. Javier was lost, when you finally fled his apartment. He sat back on his couch, after pouring himself a scotch. He spent hours staring into the void. There was nothing he could do to win you back. He had lost everything, but most importantly, he'd lost you.

_____

A/N pt1: this last scene wasn't planned at all. I don't know what happened, I just started writing the end and it popped into my mind and I had to do it.

A/N pt2: yes, I named Javier's hooker after myself lmaof

A/N pt3: face claim for agent Manu Herrera is mexican actor Alfonso Herrera

[corpsebasil]

Toxic 18+

Nikolai and you have a toxic relationship, but you’re getting sick of it.

You were fuming as you stormed down the hallway, headed towards Nikolai’s room. You pounded on the door, your knuckles almost splitting skin against the wood. He opened up, glaring right back at you, already having had felt your presence like a sixth sense.

“Where the fuck do you get off having me taken off the mission?” You demanded, eyes narrowed as you took in his slightly flushed appearance and his open-buttoned shirt.

“You’re not good enough for it.” He said, tone lethally calm. “I filled your spot with someone better.”

“Someone better?” You scoffed. “I’m a Tidemaker. This is a sea mission. I’m the best one there is!”

“I dont agree.” He told you, blue eyes sharp. “I think you’re weak. I think you’d be risking Grisha lives and wasting my time.”

You tried to ignore the flare of hurt at his words.

He’d been like this as long as you’d known him. Undermining you, berating you, making you feel no better than dirt under his shoe. You gave it right back to him, but sometimes, sometimes, when you saw him being so sweet to others, his charming, boyish self, something in you ached. What was wrong with you? Why was he so cruel when he was so kind to everyone else?

You’d dealt with men like him your entire life. Men who saw your power as a danger—as a threat to their own manhood. You’d been whipped for your power, beaten senseless for using it, all up until you finally fled your home country and went to Ravka, hoping to join the Grisha ranks.

But of course, the physical blows were exchanged for verbal.

No one else seemed to have an issue. In fact, you’d been praised for your gift. Rare ability as it was, Grisha had flocked to your side, curious and excited to see what you could do. The children, smaller Grisha with wide eyes and stunned smiles, watched with delight as you formed little animals out of water and made them dance around. They howled with laughter when you played water fights with them, soaking their Keftas and making them squeal with joy.

Nikolai had watched you one day from his window. Watched as you chased the small Grisha, sending bunnies made out of water to hop around their heads. Watched as the children cling to you like you were their older sister, constantly itching to be at your side.

Something in him tugged at the sight, but he wasn’t dumb enough to get close to you. Not when your power was so dangerous that assassins weren’t out of the question. He couldn’t risk it. Not now, not ever.

“You aren’t going.” Nikolai said calmly, watching your furious expression morph into cold hate. “End of discussion.”

He slammed the door in your face and you gritted your teeth against a scream of frustration, one that was only dampened when one of the Grisha children ran down the hallway, a little one named Pepe, immediately jumping up on you and laughing when you swung the small boy around in a playful circle.

Behind the door Nikolai leaned against it, closing his eyes when he heard your laughter. Then he peeled away, headed to his desk, ready to get back to his work.

-

You’d snuck onto the ship.

The Grisha there had welcomed you with opened arms, obviously scared shitless when they realized they’d be engaging in a sea-battle without their Tidemaker. And you’d saved them all, winning the battle easily, but not before an arrow had sliced through your arm. A small cut, really, though it stung like hell.

You walked back into the Grand Palace, laughing with two other Grisha women. You were clad in a tight tank-top, your arm exposed, wrapped up in gauze. And when you saw who was waiting, leaning against the opposite wall as you turned down the hallway to your room, you froze. Then you rolled your eyes, moving past him.

“Y/N.” Nikolai called out, but you kept walking. “Y/N.” He said again, this time walking after you, his boots loud on the hall floor.

“What?” You demanded, exasperated. “What do you want?”

“I want you to explain why you decided you had the right to disobey my direct orders.” He snapped, blue eyes blazing as he moved forward, getting into your space. “I told you not to go. Not to. And yet you went.”

“They needed my help. I saved your entire damn ship—”

“They could’ve done it just fine without you.”

“How are you—” you wanted to pull your own hair out. “How are you so arrogant that you can’t even see past your own nose—”

“You’re the goddamn arrogant one—”

“—and realize I’m the one that saved them. I’m an invaluable member to that team and I saved them.”

He was breathing heavily, inches from you, before his eyes drifted to your arm. To the spot of red that was stained against the gauze, the stitches having had leaked a bit on the journey back to Ravka. Something like concern flickered in his gaze. Something like—like worry for you.

“You got shot?” He asked, eyebrows furrowing as he stared at the blood. As if he could use x-ray vision to magically see the gash through the fabric. As if, if he tried hard enough, he could heal you with his gaze alone.

“Yes.” You said tightly, ignoring the worried look in his eyes and what it did to your worn-down heart.

You’d liked him, at first. He looked like a prince from a storybook—handsome, charming. Absolutely flirtatious. But the moment he’d found out you were a Tidemaker he’d been a fucking bully and an utter asshole. Now, though, he was looking at you as if he cared. As if he actually gave a shit that you’d been hurt.

That was until he opened his mouth.

“Guess you aren’t as invaluable as you think.” He said, eyes sliding away from the gauze to your own. “If you cant even complete a mission without getting yourself shot.”

The rapid stab of hurt that hit you made you blink at him, especially when he let out an annoyed sigh and turned to walk away, muttering, “Pathetic excuse for a Grisha” under his breath.

And when the tears welled, when you couldn’t take it anymore, you yelled after him, uncaring who heard.

“Why are you so fucking mean?” You called out, your voice echoing down the hallway. He paused, body tensing. “What did I ever do to you?”

Nikolai’s shoulders rose and fell as he breathed, then he turned around, striding back over. He paused a hairs-breath away, his eyes focused on yours, before he spoke.

“Do not speak out of turn to me, soldier.”

“Or what? What will you do?”

“I’ll have you whipped—”

You slapped him. Slapped him so hard his head cracked to the side and your palm stung. You got into his face again, glaring, tears of anger filling your eyes.

“If you ever take a whip to me,” you snarled, the aching memory of your past searing phantom lashes across your spine. “I will kill you. I will drown you and you will suffer.” You were panting as the first few tears slipped down your face and you watched as his expression turned to one of disbelief.

But he didn’t speak, not as you whirled around and stormed to your room, wiping your face free of the wetness as you went.

-

Nikolai didn’t know what to do.

He hadn’t seen you for the rest of the day. When he asked around, he was told you were sequestered in your room, refusing to come out. One Grisha, one who he knew was your friend, glared furiously as she passed him in the hallway and, with a brashness he was stunned by, gave him the most disrespectfully shallow bow he’d ever seen before she strode past, looking down her nose at him.

He didn’t know why he’d said what he’d said. Why he felt the need to—to hurt you so deeply. He had seen it in your face—the rage, but underneath that, the heartache. And when you’d slapped him, when he saw the tears on your face, something in him cracked. So he made his way to your room cautiously, hand hovering over the door before he steeled himself enough to knock.

He heard no response. None.

He entered slowly, glancing around the utterly silent room, but steam and the smell of lavender was coming from the bathroom, so he moved towards it.

“Y/N?” He called out, footsteps soundless on your carpeted floors as he moved towards the open door. He peered in and froze—goosebumps broke out across his skin as he stared at you. Agonizing shame filled him, along with utter, utter horror.

You didn’t look at him; you sat in the tub with your knees pulled to your chest, your shoulders curved as you sat stone still in the bath. And your back—your back was—

“Saints, I—” Nikolai swallowed the sudden tightness in his throat as his eyes ran across long, pink scars that covered the expanse of your back. Long lines that could only be from—

“Looks like someone beat you to it.” You mumbled, glaring over your shoulder at him with wet eyes. You were shivering, he realized, even in the hot bath. The memories had swarmed you the minute you’d gotten to your room, and it had taken everything in you not to scream.

“I’m—“ Nikolai tried again, but he felt frozen to the spot.

“You what?” You whispered, but there was no more menace in your voice. No more fire. Only a startling, unnerving defeat. “Come to tell me how worthless I am? Unable to resist the idea of me broken?” You laughed mirthlessly. “I cant even be in my own room without you telling me how much you can’t stand—”

“I’m sorry.” He croaked, eyes still on your back. He couldn’t imagine that level of pain—of fear. “Who….when?”

“Back in my home country.” You sighed, turning away, a bit shaken by his apology. But it wasn’t because he cared. No, he was just trying to pretend he wasn’t a giant asshole now that he’d seen his threat had brought back traumatic memories. “They don’t take kindly to Tidemakers either. You’d fit right in.”

“I’d never hurt you.” Nikolai insisted, moving to crouch next to the tub. “Never. I didn’t mean it.”

You stared at him, meeting those blue eyes of his, those stunningly blue eyes, and wished you could believe him.

“Okay.” You mumbled, looking away to stare at the wall. “You may go, now.”

“Do you forgive me?”

“What do you want with my forgiveness?”

“I want—” he fumbled for words. “I don’t know.”

You closed your eyes against the sheer heartache running through you. It’s not enough that he hurts you. Not enough that he threatens you. But a fake apology? One only caused by guilt? You didn’t want to hear it.

“Please go.” You whispered, quiet as a mouse, and he did.

-

That night, you sat in the grand hall with the other Grisha, chattering about the mission and laughing. You felt good, for once. Nikolai didn’t spare you a glance, thank the Saints, and you indulged in a glass of wine or two. But then the room hushed as he stood, raising a glass in his hand as all eyes moved to the prince.

“I want to thank you all, for today.” He said, piercing eyes of his moving across the team you were with. “Without you we would’ve never won the battle on those treacherous waves.” You almost rolled your eyes at his dramatics, but then he looked at you. “And Y/N,” he continued pointedly, and your heart stopped. “a Tidemaker is a rare gift indeed. A gift to Ravka, to Grisha, and to me. May we all pay her the respect she deserves for leading the team today.” He nodded to you and took a sip of his drink, and the Grisha around you cheered, knocking back their glasses and jostling your shoulders, careful not to hurt your injured arm.

You only stared at Nikolai, stunned, as a warm look lingered in his eyes, watching you. You looked away, feeling his stare on the side of your head, and you ignored him for the rest of the dinner.

Afterwards, you walked to your room, moving quickly down the hall. But not before a hand managed to grab your own, tugging you back, and you came face to face with Nikolai.

“What the fuck?” You whisper-hissed, well aware other Grisha weren’t too far away. “First you shit on my powers then you give a little speech?”

“I wronged you. I know that.” He started, eyes pleading with you. “But I cant—I cant stand you sometimes. All you do is provoke me—”

“Provoke you?”

“And you—yes, listen. And you drive me fucking mad.”

“You think I make you crazy? What about me?”

“Come on,” he urged. “I’ve seen the way you look at me.”

“What, with deep, soul-consuming hatred?”

“Like you’re undressing me with your fucking eyes.” That shut you up, and you blinked at him. “Come on,” he continued, voice lowering to a seductive drawl that make your skin hum. “I know you want me, Y/N. Despite our little squabbles.”

“I wouldn’t call them little.” You mumbled, but your breath hitched at the raw hunger in his eyes. “Why are you doing this?”

“Do you want me, or not?” He asked, moving closer, his soft breath on your face. And you only stared, blinking slowly at him, before you turned around, walking to your room.

He followed you wordlessly, watching as you glanced over your shoulder and moved into your room. When he followed, shutting the door behind him, you turned, looking up into his handsome face. You’d thought about him…about having him…plenty of times. But the shame that you’d felt after was almost crippling; how you could possibly be attracted to such a cruel prince blew your mind.

“I want you.” He murmured, moving closer. “How do you want it?”

“I want it—” you paused, not sure what you were even saying. “Want it…slow.”

“Slow?” He let out a dark laugh. “I don’t do slow, sweetheart.”

He backed you up towards your bed, watching as you slid off your dress, holding lust-filled eye-contact. And you felt that shame again, that embarrassing shame, at the deep desire that ran through your body. Especially when he moved towards you, hovering over your body, yanking off your undergarments, his hands unbuckling his trousers.

“I still hate you.” You told him, biting your lip as he parted your legs for him. You were sure he’d fuck you hard, so hard it’d hurt, but you still wanting him. Desperately.

“Hate you too.” He murmured against your mouth, and kissed you as he pushed into you slowly. It was heady and ridiculous how much you wanted him as you let out a soft moan into his mouth, his soft tongue running along your own. “Feels so good, love.” He whispered.

Love.

You felt your heart break at the word. But then he was moving and—it wasn’t rough at all. He was making love to you, slow strokes that had you practically keening under him, as he rubbed up against that spot inside you that had you gasping for breath. His hands sank into your hair, kissing your mouth, and the intimacy of it was startling.

“Knew you fucking wanted me.” He muttered, leaning down to kiss your neck, and you screwed your eyes shut. Even now, he had to be a bastard. “Been thinking about taking you since you disobeyed me.”

You turned your head away, looking at the wall as he moved, the blinding pleasure not nearly as strong as the sudden wave of sadness. You couldn’t believe you were allowing him to touch you—to fuck you—after everything. And suddenly you wanted him out.

“Stop. Stop.” You gritted out, chest tight as he froze.

“Y/N?”

“Just—just go.”

He panted for a moment, his hands still gripping your hips with bruising force, before he pulled away, fastening his trousers back with a sound of finality. You rolled onto your side, curling into yourself, as your chest heaved. You couldn’t look at him. Not when he sat down on the bed next to you and ran a hand down your side, stroking your skin almost lovingly.

“What did I do now?” He breathed, continuing to draw long, slow trails down your side, his fingers warm. His touch gentle. “Y/N?”

“You cant even treat me kindly when you’re fucking me.” You whispered, tears filling your eyes as you stared into the distance. “I just—I just wish you could be kind to me.” You felt pathetic, like a child begging for scraps. But then you felt a kiss against your spine, then another, and you squeezed your eyes shut.

“It’s hard to be close to you.” Nikolai admitted softly. “Every day I—I think somethings going to happen to you. That some rogue Grisha is going to take out my most important soldier and you—” his voice hitched and he paused, taking a deep breath. “I don’t want to lose you. I can’t.”

You turned to look at him, sitting up slowly.

“You’re telling me that you’re cruel because what, you care about me?”

“Yes.” He snapped, expression more serious than you’d ever seen him. “Because I care. And caring is dangerous.”

You stared, watching him, painful hope in your heart.

“I’m not going to forgive you for everything you said.” You told him, ignoring the hurt that flashed in those eyes. “But I—” he reached out to take your hand and you allowed him. “Nikolai..”

“Such beautiful hands.” He murmured, tracing your fingers with his own. “So powerful. You amaze me, you know? Even when you’re headstrong.”

“Me? Headstrong? Look at you—”

“Let’s not fight.” He groaned, leaning forward to kiss you, his mouth sweet and gentle on yours. “Don’t fight me.” He said again, and grinned against you when you kissed him back eagerly.

You pushed him back down on the bed and, though it would take time for the two of you heal your dynamic, you hoped there was a place for each other in your lives.

this was a whirlwind ANYWAYS

[ineffablelvrs]

THE BIG BYLER FANFIC RECS POST PART 1

PART 2 HERE

aka every byler fanfic ive ever had opened on my phone but never got around to reading (and i dont think i will because. change of fandoms lmao) (it was supposed to be just 1 part but apparently there's a link limit)

!! btw a lot of writers repeats so im tagging them only the first time !!

long post so everything is gonna be under the cut

movie magic by dragons_like_smores (@howtobecomeadragon)

Think I've Died and Gone to Heaven by 0_space_ghost_0

a real fucking legacy, to leave by andiwriteordie (@andiwriteordie)

the strawberries are dying by eggowlss (@eggo-owl)

strangely, he feels at home by andiwriteordie

lying on the floor (typing your name into the internet) by andiwriteordie

The Artist and the Writer by heyits_L (@buck-yyyy)

A Covert Cat in a Cramped Coffee Shop by if_the_stars_fall (@inky-iridescence)

Rock 'n' Roll by bylerisc4non (@bylerisc4non)

The Sharpie Effect by VibraniumStrap

what a match: i'm half-doomed and you're semi-sweet by perexcri (@perexcri)

your string of lights is still bright to me by heidibyers (emiliano)

I don't quite know what to say (but I'm here in your doorway) by mikeslawyer (@mikeslawyer)

beneath these boughs, my devotion blooms by perexcri

love in the time of dragons by mogiah (@morganee)

this is when the feeling sinks in by mogiah

a hundred thrown out speeches by andiwriteordie

i should be over all the butterflies, but i'm into you by willelfanpage (@willelfanpage)

you're stuck in my brain by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy) (@parkitaco)

with all my heart by mogiah

The Breath That Passed From You To Me by AabH

The Tempests Created This Tide by AabH

just gotta call on me by wiseatom (@wiseatom)

somethin' about you (that i will always recognize) by andiwriteordie

there's nothing more cruel than to be loved by everybody but you by perexcri

Paper Faces by laozuspo (@henrysglock)

i know the end series by bookinit (@bookinit02)

take your time while you're mine (and smoke slow) by andiwriteordie

takes one to know one by andiwriteordie

sweetheart, you're so cruel by perexcri

The Secret to Being Unlucky by lovetriangled (@lovetriangled)

my life begins and ends with you by RomeoWrites (@itsromeowrites)

anything, anything by inblue

someone who loves me now (better than you) by SomeLovleyPopTarts

Daydream by disaster_energy

i had a dream (i got everything i wanted) by andiwriteordie

But Not Tonight by Matto (@mattuhoh)

Real sweet, but I wish you were sober by queercodedvillain

i'm not going anywhere by vissers

provide me sweet understanding by agustplz (shout_out_lou)

To Hell and Back Again by perexcri

an ode to hope (and other funny things) by pyschologicalrocketgirl (@pyschologicalrocketgirl)

i'll find myself in the moonlight by beansie (@byeler)

where the light glows by beansie

yellow is your favorite color by RomeoWrites

emotional motion sickness by delusionaltogether (Whyyyyy)

i'll be your first, i'll be your last by agustplz (shout_out_lou)

home is where the heart is by smoosnoom (moonsooms) (@smoosnoom)

let our walls cave in by andiwriteordie, kidovna (@kidovna)

the words we held back by mogiah

The Only Truth (that I could see) by DrunkenWhalerbitc4 (@drunkenwailerbitc4)

Landslide by hopelessromanfic (@hopelessromanfic)

landslide by chamb3rs

Mike Wheeler And The 5 Stages Of Dealing With Your Best Friend's Secret Admirer by onstoryladders (@onstoryladders)

summer days a plenty by RomeoWrites

running up that road by smoosnoom (moonsooms)

if i was higher, maybe i could see heaven. by bookinit

icarus falls by bookinit

Wrathful Wishing Star and Poisoned Apple Tree by DaineYui

now that we are both doomed by boryaundernight (orphan_account)

they don't know what i know (been thinking about you) by miketozier (smallcuts)

what it means to be gentle by Zara_Zara (@bylermyheart)

how light carries on endlessly series by andiwriteordie

undertow by beansie

cause i’m utterly useless (totally stupid now) by yemeoto

Jealousy (turning saints into the sea) by wasabi8000

Geography Notes and Doodles by midnighteverlark

Bring Your Roommate(?) to Work Day by sarah_tonin_on_the_rocks

stare at pictures of you 'til i'm blind by agustplz (shout_out_lou)

Sounds pretty gay by SkuldTheNorn

want for anything (and everything) by losingcontrolnow

no takesies-backsies by AttaboyLuther (@titforatat)

RESPONSIBILITY by Wheelerboi

poor old jim's white as a ghost (he's found the answer that we lost) by AttaboyLuther

I'll Be Waiting, Time After Time by Kakerutori

tell me, is it really love? by agustplz (shout_out_lou)

Teenage Blues by ThornyWords (@thornywords)

Secret Moments by ur_ur_ur_mom

touch like velvet by ciders

a dream always the same by sevensided (stonedlennon) (@sevensided)

harness your hope by johnnyfucksup

where is my mind? by ciders

yesterday, we were just children by andiwriteordie

selfless; self destruct by didthattwinkjustcommittreason

hanging on the telephone by elmaxed (orphan_account) (@elmaxed)

i will never rust (wanna be yours) by raedafan

Unbreakable Connection by Tea_For_One_Please

but i like you by felinecharismatic

Sleepaway by roady

i keep my distance (but you still catch my eye) by andiwriteordie

don’t you know (that i love you) by bookinit

if you kissed me now by astrobi (@astrobei)

i'm caught up in you by wiseatom

need-to-snow basis by smoosnoom (moonsooms)

[theblueflower05]

Okay, english is not my mother language but I'm gonna do my best.

It would be amazing if you made a story where tsireya and reader are a couple but they seem like best friends, so when the sullys arrive to the metkayina clan (let's say they are older than in the movie) lo'ak has a crush on Tsireya. Reader helps Tsireya teach the sullys the shape of water and lo'ak always tries to flirt with Tsireya. Until one day, Lo'ak takes a walk on the beach where he knows there are no people and he finds Tsireya and reader making love to each other. It would be great if you made Tsireya call reader mommy but I'll leave this to you.

The explanation came out quite long, I hope it is not too much to ask :)

Okay but this is the most juicy scrumptious ask I’ve ever gotten and I hope you know it made me literally clench around nothing. It’s just too good.

Thanks for giving me an excuse to write some Subby!Tsireya smut. I’m gonna go change my panties now.

Smut under the cut

You and Tsireya’s relationship still new and fresh and blossoming.

Most in the village think your just friends, the shy nature of your touches and hugs appearing like no more then girlhood friendship. They don’t need to know what the two of you get up to in your private time- you’re not a fan of PDA and Tsireya respects that.

The Sully’s arrive just after your three month anniversary.

You’re hesitant of new people, not cruel or interested in being nasty and joining in on the teasing. But nervous. Introverted and a tad bit wary.

She’s everything your not, kind and out going. Her aura sparkles, powder pink and glittery. She’s soft and welcoming, she’ll make an amazing T’sahik.

When she ropes you into helping train the newcomers, of course you can’t say no. When have you ever been able to say no to those giant eyes?

“They had to leave their home, could you even imagine that? It breaks my heart. We must help them adjust”

And she’s right of course.

The more that you get to know the Sully’s, the more your heart hurts for them. Being so forcibly uprooted from everything they’d ever known is horrific.

You “mother hen” people. It had always been known about you. The moment you take someone under your wing, there’s little you wouldn’t do for them.

You like the Sully siblings. Bond with them. Would even say you’ve become friends with them-

All except for one.

You can’t stand Lo’ak.

Toruk Makto’s youngest son grates at your last nerve. He’s brash and annoying-

And he won’t stop flirting with Tsireya.

It makes you see red. Makes your heart pound and your fists clench, everytime he whispers sweet nothings to her. Or stares at her with that love struck expression on his stupid face.

Tsireya doesn’t reciprocate, is respectful of her already established relationship but-

She’s just too fucking nice.

You tell her of the fact as you throw fits about it.

She’s yours. How dare this five fingered outsider come in and disrespect what you had?

“Y/n” she sighs as the two of you sit close together, the beach vacant. Only the ocean, lapping rhythmically at the shore, is there to bare witness to your vulnerability.

You’d been crying, your turquoise eyes red rimmed and your plush lips set into a tight frown.

Your knees are pulled up to your chest and you refuse to meet your girlfriends pleading gaze.

“It meant nothing, I was only teaching him to free dive” Tsireya vows before reaching out to you. Her soft hand on your shoulder as she urges you gently to look at her. “I only want to be with you. My heart beats for you, it belongs to you. Is that not enough?”

You huff, shaking your head “You let him hold your hand today!”

“He was drowning! He needed my help!“ she protests.

She’s too kind for her own good, for yours either. You’d seen the look on his face while their fingers intertwined.

It made you sick with jealousy. Twisted with unbridled rage.

“You…are kind, my sweet love. Too kind. But you’re not stupid. Don’t pretend that you don’t see the way that he looks at you” you hiss at her, avoiding her touch. So upset that it curdles in your stomach like something vile.

She sniffles. Tsireyas an emotional creature by nature. Having you this upset with her has her close to spiraling.

“What do you want me to do? I won’t train him anymore, if you don’t want me to. Please, Y/N. Don’t be upset with me” she warbles out, her big bottom lip quivering.

She’d do anything to melt this icy coldness that you were settling over the relationship she so deeply cherished.

“I want you to tell him your mine” you state with finality and she’s nodding before you can even finish.

“Yes, yes of course” she agrees. “I’ll tell him we’re dating. I’ll make that clear”

“No Tsireya. Not that we’re dating” you hiss at her, seething at her naivety “Tell him that your mine”

“Anything” she whimpers. She’d tell him anything you wanted her to.

You sigh and reach over. Grabbing her dimpled chin gently, your fingers firm on her jaw “He wants to fuck you, you know”

She blushes, cheeks going hot and rosy. Tries to shake her head, but your grip just gets that much firmer.

“He does” you continue, your bold gaze piercing. She can’t look away from your sparkling light green eyes as you speak “You’re going to tell him that you don’t need his cock. That you spend every night with me, fully satisfied. I treat you well so well”

She nods eagerly. “Of cour-“ you squeeze her so hard it hurts. It has her whimpering, tears gathering in her thick lash line.

“No, that wasn’t really a question, was it? I know I take care good of you, Tsireya. Anything you want, I give you. I’d rip out my fucking heart for you if you asked me to” your words are intense, laced with desperation. You’re quickly losing your composure- completely raw as you sink into how much you feel for her.

It’s obsessive. Not completely healthy.

Too much for most people-

Not for Tsireya.

Tsireya thrives on emotional energy.

She is already starting to squirm. She loves you when you get like this. She’s spoiled rotten, she wants all of your attention all of the time.

“Mhmm” she can only agree, her jaw aching in your hands.

“Who’s are you?” It’s a little bit of a taunt- meaner then you’d like to be but you’d been pushed here. Pushed to this emotional state.

“Yours, mommy” Tsireya whines, cheeks still squished in your grip. Lips pursed and pouting.

You slam your mouth to hers. That’s all you needed to hear.

————————————————————————-

Lo’ak has never felt like this.

There’d been girls back home in the forest, one’s that caught his eye. One’s that he’d pursued.

But there had never been a girl like Tsireya.

What had started as an innocent crush had bloomed into something- more. Something all consuming.

He thought about her before he went to sleep at night, and then again as the rays from the morning eclipse filled his family’s Mauri.

Her pretty face. Her sweet laugh. Her kindness.

It was all too much for him. No one had ever been this nice to him before, how was he not supposed to completely fall head over heels for her?

Tsireya likes him back. He knows it. She’s always willing to be an ear when he needs to vent. She never makes fun of his five fingers or tawtute eyebrows. She laughs at all his jokes!

And most of all. She spends all her free time teaching him the way of water.

There’s no way she doesn’t like him. He’s sure of it. Gloats about it to his siblings-

“Maybe she’s just that nice? Ever think about that, skxwng? I bet she’d tutor anyone who needed it”

Kiri was wrong. She just didn’t understand. The seeds of doubt she tried to plant weren’t gonna stick.

He’d show them.

He’d be brave and tell Tsireya about his love for her, and she’d accept it with warm arms.

Lo’ak is sure of it.

So he musters up all his courage and sets out to find the Metkayina girl.

Some of the villagers said they’d seen her head out- she was going to forage for a particular type of seaweed. It only grew on the South Beach- other side of the island, furthest from the village.

That’s fine. He doesn’t mind the trek. He uses it to try to calm his fraying nerves. Imagines all the ways that the scene is going to play out.

Tsireya is quite emotional. She might cry at his confession. She’ll launch herself into his open arms- she’ll need to be consoled. Lo’ak will hold her tight. Kiss her until she has nothing to be ready about any longer

He walks and walks and hell. Where the fuck is she?

South Beach is desolate. Completely barren of other villagers. No Tsireya.

There’s a large rock formation- tall and acting like a barrier. Maybe she’s behind there, she has to be. He’s making his way over, just about to call out her name when a high pitched feminine moan rings out.

Breaking the silence of the deserted beach.

His golden eyes widen, tail going ramrod straight in alert because what? That can’t be-

Another moan- this one’s different. It sounds gutted, almost pained.

“Y/N- pleaseeeeee”

His cheeks are hot and his hearts pounding in his chest as he creeps over, following the sounds. Crouching behind the big rock formation, unseen as he peers through a crack.

What he gets a clear view of takes his breath okay. Makes him freeze in total and complete shock.

Tsireya is on her hands and knees, bare as the day she was born. Her pretty shell top and gauzy tweng have been discarded and lie tangled in the sand.

Her breasts are naked, nipples peaked. Her hair is a complete mess. The usual meticulously styled tendrils are everywhere, sticking to her sweaty face. Swaying with her body.

“Ah-ah-ah PLEASE” she screeches, as she thrusts back into your fingers.

You’re behind her, naked too. Ethereal in the setting eclipse. You weren’t really his type. Too bitchy, too gorgeous for your own good-

But as he watches you fuck Tsireya hard with with your hand he can’t help but acknowledge your beauty.

There’s a scowl on your face and your blue eyes sparkle as you work the girl infront of you over.

“You’re being so-ah- so mean” Tsireya wails and she sounds like she’s in pain.

But Lo’ak can tell she likes it.

Her ears are swiveling on her head, her thick tail wagging. And a small smile tugs on her pleasure slackened mouth.

“You’ve been a bad girl. Bad girls don’t get to come” you snipe back and oh holy shit.

Loak is so confused as he hides there behind the rocks. So confused and so turned on.

How long had this been going on?

We’re the two of you like- together? He just thought you guys were close friends. Is this why you were always glaring at him?

“I told you I’m sorry” Tsireya sniffles- her hips still swiveling backwards, needing the pleasure of your touch. He wishes he could see your hand, see how many fingers you had pressed into the younger girl. “I’m so sorry, mommy. I’m only yours. I love you. I love you. I love you”

Lo’aks brain kind of sort circuits.

His ears ring and his hard on deflates.

Tsireya tells you that she loves you with such conviction, her tone adoration laced even as you torment her.

He realized then that his sister had been right. Tsireya had just been being nice to him. She didn’t like him back.

The future Tsahik had never once spoken to him that way.

You coo at her.

Leaning down to press your lips against her smooth back “I love you- you’re everything to me, Reya. Come now. Squirt for me one more time”

The sounds Tsireya let’s out as she orgasms are almost un-Na’vi. She sounds like she’s dying. Gone is the innocent girl who’d welcomed him on the beach. This woman is someone he doesn’t know- someone he’ll never know.

Lo’ak pulls away once he watches Tsireya collapse in your arms.

He can’t bare to watch the loving embrace the two of you share.

He stumbles back the way he came.

Lolololol this shit was so fun to write. I love a jealous Reader. Poor Lo’ak got humbled real quick.

[maltesejjong]

What’s up hoes, I’m back at it again lmao. Here’s a little lixie Drabble I wrote last year🫶🏽

Tbh this one kinda hurt. Not in a “why did I write this way” but in a “how dare I portray sunshine this way” and honestly I’m not proud of it. But I was going through a shit period of time and was really hurt and needed to make that hurt known. People always assume I’m some happy go lucky person who never gets mad or wronged and I needed my pain portrayed through some sunshine’s. Please don’t hate me for this

On the Other Side

Warnings: MINORS DNI. Pwop, cream pie, unprotected sex (oh god don’t do that y’all), fingering, piv, cheating (also don’t do THAT guys stay faithful please please please), i think I got everything? Lmk if I missed smt

Summary: Chan is absolutely smitten with his princess. Little does he know that his business trips leave opportunities for his heart to be crushed… by his best friend.

tags: @linoalwaysknows ty for being so enthusiastic about my post “What’s Rwally Going On” and, of course, credit where credit is due, thank you so so much to @lixiesfreckless who started off posting one shots on instagram (insta is @/lixiesfreckles_) and was a massive inspiration both for me as a writer and for this specific piece, which was inspired by “Deep”, which is on her insta hall go check it out!!!

Wc: 1792

Requests are open as always ^^

꒰ঌ(⃔ ⌯' '⌯)⃕໒꒱

"Relax, baby. Just let go."

You clench your fists, desperately fighting the sounds struggling to escape. "Fe- Felix," you stutter out. "I- I'm...ah, Lixie!"

"Shhh. Calm down, angel. It's alright."

But it's not. And you both know it.

This can't be happening. Not again. It's becoming more and more frequent. You tried. You really did.

But..

"Felix," you try again. "I can't-"

"Just try, baby. Please? Just a minute longer."

He never asks for much, always making sure you're taken care of in every possible way first. And it isn't just the sex.

If you're up late, somehow he'll know, like intuition, and he'll be calling and texting relentlessly, telling you to go to sleep. When you're feeling sick, he arrives on your doorstep with drunken noodles and fried tofu, just happening by.

When you're lonely, well, he's only one call away.

And, of course, you're usually all alone these days...

"Fuck!" You exclaim, jarred out of your thoughts as he abruptly twists his fingers, hitting your sweet spot in a way that's almost cruel.

But it isn't. It never is.

You force your mind to wander, to recall song lyrics and recipes, anything to distract yourself from the feeling of Felix's fingers sliding out of you, then back in. Again and again.

"We shouldn't... we shouldn't be doing this," Felix pants, looking at you through ashy blond hair.

"But we are," you reply through gritted teeth as his digits stretch you out more than usual.

How did we get here? You think to yourself, your legs shaking so hard, you're positive that his fingers alone will leave you unable to walk. His tiny hands with his tiny fingers that work magic on you.

You bite your lip, trying to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you can salvage, knowing your neighbors are still home. Every last inch of you begs to release, to be as loud as you can, to become as undone and fucked up as you possibly can.

But no.

You can't let that happen.

Besides, you know from experience how long Felix can last. You tell yourself that there's no rush.

Yet the thrill of being caught makes everything so much more intense. So much more rushed. So much more fun.

Almost so much more worth it.

"Y/n," he hisses desperately, "shhh. You need to..."

You can't help it. Whatever noise you're apparently making, you have no control over. When you re together, this boy does things to you that you can't even begin to comprehend.

He doesn't deserve this, you tell yourself. And, I guess, neither do I. It shouldn't be like this.

You bite back a whimper as he pushes his fingers deeper. "Felix," you pant, "hurry up, I can't..."

Nevermind the familiar fear lurking over your shoulder.

You know that he doesn't want to rush any more than you do, a fact that he confirms by slowly pulling his fingers out and languidly cleaning them off, the look in his eyes as his gaze locks into yours driving you insane.

He raises his eyebrows, questioning. You press your lips together as tight as you can to keep from begging and keep your response to a firm nod.

He takes his time, kissing his way down your neck, all the way to the inside of your thigh, then back up again. Your body reacts on its own, your back arching as his lips travel up your stomach.

You're so consumed by the feeling that you don't even notice him line up and slide into you. Something that you've found goes smoother if you're distracted.

The second you realize that he's in, your mind races about, trying to grab onto something to keep your mind busy. Kittens. Math. Random Korean and Spanish vocabulary. Anything to keep from yelling as loud as you can as his hips continuously bump gently into yours.

It's a stolen moment. Yet another to add to the ever-growing list. Another thing that should, in theory, weigh on your conscience.

But it doesn't. How can it, when you're digging your fingers into Felix's platinum locks, feeling him groan against your lips. How can you think of the consequences when he's making that sound, bordering on a whimper, your name escaping his clenched teeth?

Exactly. You can't.

Your fingers leave his hair, trailing down his biceps, making him shiver. Your nails press into his skin as hard as you can, desperate for some purchase.

"Y/n. You need to relax, baby." Felix knows that you're going to that place in your mind where you start overthinking, panicking, and, as you've been prone to in the past, hyperventilate. "Hey." Не stops and cups your chin in his hand. "Breathe, okay? I won't-"

"No!" You blurt. "I'm- I'm fine, I just..."

"Y/n."

"Felix," you say firmly. "If you don't keep going, I swear to God, I will make you. I'll be fine, okay?"

He swallows and nods.

"Just.... Slower for now, yeah?"

He obliges, and you take comfort in the fact that, eventually, you aren't the only one making so much noise.

You shouldn't be.... The twisted mess of it all, the backwards guilt that claws your stomach, how messy this situation is.... It's all chased away by Felix whimpering your name, the way his voice pitches, contrasting starkly with his deep Australian tone. Ironic, but running circles in your mind around the whole thing is what helps you calm down and stay quiet. Well, mostly quiet, anyways....

"Oh, God," you moan quietly. Your voice pushes him further, and he increases his pace, his hips hitting yours harder. "Lixie.... Oh, fuck."

"You're doing great, angel. Just a little...." His voice is strained, and you chance a glance at his face.

Hair falling in his eyes, which are dark and seem slightly unfocused, but you know better. He's sweaty, panting slightly, his lips dark pink, flushed from feverishly pressing them to your skin.

Why does this time feel so much longer than every other time? There's a sense of foreboding in the air, and you don't like it.

You feel him shudder a little and force yourself to focus.

"Y/n, you need to relax, kitten." The pet name, the way his gravelly Australian accent drags over the word, makes you whine and clench painfully, causing him to gasp. "Y/n," he gets out, clearly fighting to hold on, "I- I won't last unless you relax."

"I'm... trying..."

It's no use, though. You're too uptight, and everything that usually calms you just turns you on even more until Felix can't take your reactions anymore. In no time at all, you've both ridden out three separate highs, and made way more of a mess than the short span of time warranted.

"Felix." You both know you should be wrapping up, but you can tell that he still isn't done quite yet.

"I... I need a little bit more time- uh! Oh god. Y/n - I can't..."

"What can I do?"

He squeezes his eyes shut, lips pressed together tightly.

Stimulation, you think, that's what will help. Just thinking about what's going on down there makes your stomach squirm pleasurably, sending you clenching tighter and tighter

Felix groans.

"That's it, Lix," you say in a sultry tone, knowing that the only physical thing you can do for him is happening automatically. Vocalization always gets him. "Come on baby," you say breathlessly, "give it all to me."

"I'm doing-"

"Shhh." You cut him off with a kiss. "Just let it all go," you coax, dragging a nail down his chest. "Don't hold back."

A shudder runs through his body, and you watch with satisfaction as he moans loudly, his head tipping back.

Almost there.

You lean forward and press your lips to his throat, feeling it vibrate as another strangled moan escapes him. "Come on, Lix. And here I was, thinking I'm the naughty one." What is wrong with me? You think. Getting turned on by calling myself naughty? Your walls somehow manage to clench even tighter in response.

"You are," he gasps. "Y/n- I'm gonna- nngh!"

He practically bends backwards, his body shaking hard before he falls heavily forward, clinging to you like you're his lifeline, and you know that he's done.

"Better?" You ask quietly.

"Perfect," he whispers, pulling you into his chest.

You let the warmth of his body comfort you, despite the pain gently pulsing in your body. His breath in your skin distracts you from the worry spiraling throughout your mind.

You drift off at some point, listening to his rhythmic breathing, savoring how impossibly right it all feels.

You wake up an hour later to your phone ringing.

You answer without bothering to check the caller ID.

"Hey, pretty girl."

You freeze.

"Did I wake you up?"

"Maybe," you say, trying to suppress your rising panic. You feel thankful that the voice on the other end of the phone is on the other side of the world.

"Oh. Sorry about that." His accent makes the "o" in sorry sound like it does in sore.

"Oh. Um... you're fine," you lie.

"Everything alrigh', baby?"

You fumble with the blankets, trying to escape from the overheated confines and wiggle out of Felix's embrace, careful not to wake him.

"Yeah. I'm just not feeling the greatest." True enough. You feel sick with anxiety and guilt. But not for the right reasons.

"Oh. I'm sorry, angel." You practically cringe, the word feeling foreign unless it's coming from Felix's mouth. "I'll let you get back to sleep then, love."

"Oh. Okay, then."

If he thinks there's something off in your voice, he doesn't say anything. In fact, he probably just attributes it to you apparently being tired. You check the caller ID, praying that this is some sort of fever dream. Of course not. Your screen says

💙🐺Channie🐺💙

You close your eyes as he says "I love you, y/n."

A sour taste pervades your mouth and crushes you with guilt, the betrayal weighing on you, but not the betrayal to him, as your finger hovers over the red "end call" button. You hesitate slightly before telling him "Love you, too."

Staring at your back screen, you think, But I don't.

Not really.

[sonicblueartist]

Idea! How about Bullfrog being reunited with Reader after he's freed from his execution? Wholesome reunion Q_Q

A/N: I love this one omg Also I'm making this a two part fic, if you don't mind~ It's getting a bit too long lol The next part will be much longer and will have the wholesome reunion I promise. But I'm doing this because I added a bit something~ We are rescuing him. (This part might be a bit cringe I'm so sorry for that.)

Bullfrog x h!reader

Warnings: heavhy spoiler warning, angst, panic attack, guns

Masterlist

Word Count: 2k

Taglist: @blorbostation

Btw does anyone want to be in the tag list?

Execution

"Today also marks the beginning of the hearing of Bullfrog, Dolph Laserhawk's partner in crime. He's currently being held at the MegaCity 1 courthouse—"

The TV remote fell out of your hand. You were just about to change the channel. You didn't like Rayman's show at all, but…

"What the fuck? This has to be a joke." That was the first thing you uttered, your form shaking. Your mind still couldn't perceive the person whose picture you saw on TV.

"Bullfrog..." you muttered. It has to be a joke, r-right? A cruel, sick joke. He can't be caught.

Laserhawk? You heard about that guy before. The fuck Bullfrog been doing with him? Why didn't he tell you anything?!

After weeks of not even hearing from him... he shows up in your TV being announced to be caught?

Your weak legs couldn't be able to carry your weight anymore, you fell on your knees, your hands trying to support your body as you gasp for breath. God, no, please no. This can't be happening. He said he will be fine! The last time you saw him. He PROMISED!! He has to be fine! This has to be some kind of trick!!!

But you knew it wasn't. This time he was caught. You don't know how. But he did. And he is in trouble.

You shook your head, No. It's not gonna end like this. Not on your watch. "H-he needs help." You sniffed, and glared at the screen.

"And he will get one." This time you will be the one to help him out.

You quickly got up and rushed inside your room with a new found hope. You were hiding some guns and weapons that might be useful one day. You can’t know what would happen anytime if you are living with an assassin, right?

A plan forming in your head. Without wasting any time you picked up a bag and stuffed inside of it with weapons that could help you.

You paused, your hand hovered over the guns. You grunted, you don’t want to actually kill anyone. You only loaded your bag with an ax, electric shocks and tranquilizer guns. You shook your head, you never knew what could happen. You pick up the smallest of them all and stuff it in your bag.

You picked up your bag and rushed outside of your house. Let’s visit a court.

You stood outside of the building, observing it. You didn't need to since you were coming here you searched about literally everything about this place. Well, the best things could help you was the place's blueprints and guards routine. You knew they wouldn't let you get inside with your bag that easily. So you are gonna choose a bit more risky way to get in.

You approached the building. You were repeating inside your head to relax. At the entrance, you saw the security guards checking the people and their bags with a device. You reassure yourself that you got this. When it was your turn, you threw a small device you were holding in your palm at the device held by the security. This disabled his device.

"What are you here for?"

"My father have a hearing today. I can't miss it and I don't have much time to lose either. My little sister waiting for me back home." He nodded at that and quickly checked on your bag and your clothes. He nodded for you to walk pass. You thanked him and walked past him. You heaved a sigh. Now you just had to find the room where Bullfrog was being held captive.

You quickly and attentively searched around the court. After walking past a few rooms you find a corridor cleared out of people, and at the end of it two men were guarding a huge door. You stealthily watched them from the sidelines for a while and glared. Good. You found him.

You carefully turned around and glanced. Noone was there. Great. You pulled out your tranquilizer gun and pointed it at them. You hoped the accuracy lessons you've been studying all this time would pay off.

You shot one of them and before the other could react you quickly shot him too. You sighed in relief as both fell on the ground unconscious. You were actually really relieved.

You quickly rushed to their side. Okay, maybe you shouldn't have bothered bringing a gun. You could use their gun to free him right?

You decided to carry both of their bodies inside so as not to attract anyone's attention. You grabbed one of the man's hands and pulled him towards you, embracing him and opening the door with your shoulder and dragging him in. He was so heavy that the moment you stepped inside, you lost your balance and fell face down. The worst part was that you fell on the man you were dragging. When you realized you were face to face with him, you struggled not to yelp and immediately pulled yourself back in disgust. You rubbed your hands on your clothes.

You heard a muffled voice calling your name. Your eyes widen with the familiar accent. You glanced back inside. There he was being imprisoned in a transparent orange box. You jumped to your feet but before you could run up to him you paused and glanced at the mans scattered on the ground.

You stuttered out frustered and pointed a finger up, "Gimme a sec." Bullfrog watched you struggle while you carried both men inside, he was really impressed but that could be said another time. Right now he has other important things to discuss with you.

You dusted your hands and sighed when you were finally able to close the doors.

"Did you kill them?" He doubted you did but if you did his mind would be blown a bit more.

"Nah. They are sleeping. I shoot them with a tranquilizer gun." You showed him your gun with a grin.

He wasn't smiling, yes, he was happy to see you but not like this. "You shouldn't have come."

"And let them make you their little prisoner? You should have known better."

"You don't understand–"

"No, you don't understand. I'm trying to save you here. So, help me will ya? You might by any chance know the password?"

"Non…"

"Guess so… Now, lemme work." You opened your bag and pulled your ax out.

"If you get caught–"

"I will not–"

"If you do, I will never forgive myself."

You rolled your eyes and approached the password, maybe malfunctioning it could help, "And why is that? It was my choice to come to you."

"I don't want you to be here. It's dangerous."

You paused, your heart skipping a beat, "Don't you think I don't know that? I know the risks."

"I am sure you are aware, I'm just merely reminding you how bad it could be to be caught trying to help a 'terrorist' escape."

"I will help you escape no matter what." You growled and raised your ax.

"Don't do anything stupid before thinking–!!"

" 'Do not do anything that you will regret' Is this what you are trying to say?! I'm trying to save your ass here and you are dismissing it?! Just let me help you get out of this place! You saw how I got inside without getting caught! You think I am inept–"

"I will be executed soon." Your eyes widen. "I'm not questioning your skills or looking down on you, you know. I know my time is limited, I don't want to lush away but I don't have any choice. I'm really glad to see you, believe me. I didn't want to die without seeing you one last time. But you shouldn't be here. Go. If they catch you... I... I don't want them to hurt you because of me. Je t'aime—"

You quickly walk in front of him, "No, I don't want to listen to this. What you just said is even more reason for me to help you out! And.I.am.not.going.anywhere.until.you.are.freed. I don't care what they would do to me I would rather die trying to help you. If it meant to save you, I'll do anything. And if you talk nonsense like that again, I'll beat you myself when you get out of here. So, back to that hopeful and positive frog that I love, because this conversation is starting to bore me."

His eyes widened with that. A bittersweet smile forming on his lips and he chuckled weakly. He pressed his hand where yours pressing on the other side. "Je t'aime tellement."

You smile at that. Your grip tightened on your ax. "Now where were we?"

"I believe you were about to rescue me?"

You smirked, "Ah, yes." You walked towards the password and raised your ax, you cut the device in half and the electricity from it spread around. You turned around, expecting to see Bullfrog freed, but he was still imprisoned. You shook your head at this, "Okay that didn't work. We'll try another way."

"You don't have much time, mon amour. Be quick."

You gripped your ax and ran towards him. You swing the ax on it with all your strength, but you could only leave a scratch. You stepped back, out of breath, and immediately reached for your bag. You took out your stun gun and shot it with the highest voltage, but it didn't work. Your worries and fear were growing more and more. You looked at your bag, out of breath. There was nothing else you could use.

Bullfrog watched your despairing form, the little hope that had revived within him vanishing. A sad smile formed on his lips, as he hummed, "You know... I was stunned the moment I saw you carrying that man through the door. I really didn't expected it. I have to say I'm really impressed and proud. And while swinging that ax and shooting that gun… You looked really h—"

You perked up, "Gun! Wait! Wait! What if I use one of the soldier's guns? Would that damage this damn glass?"

He paused, "Uh, Je ne sais pas…"

You quickly went to the men and picked up their guns, "Okay, if this works… you might wanna step a bit aside."

He quickly walked back and pressed his back on the wall with a thumbs up.

You glared and started to shoot the guns towards the glass, nearly emptying the guns. But still no progress. You groaned in frustration. If guns doesn't work either what the fuck do you gonna do.

"What the fuck these things made off?" You scoffed. You throw the guns away.

"Maybe you should start thinking of going back before someone comes in." He hesitantly informed you.

"I said I am not going back and I will not. If I can't save you then… I'll wait the time with you." You sit beside him.

"Don't be like that, you still have a lot to do!"

"Well, none of that will matter if you are not by my side!"

He opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out of his mouth. He shook his head and sat down. After a few minutes of silence he sighed.

"What if I told you that there might be another way?"

You tiredly chuckled at that, "Uh-huh, Like what?"

"When they take me out of here, I will go to court and from there I will most likely be executed. This is much more dangerous and risky but—"

Your eyes widen, "Then you want me to save you?"

"Oui. You need a good plan and be cautious. And… you need to kill. I'm really sorry for forcing you something like this. But, I'm telling you this again, you don't have to."

You frowned but it quickly turned into a glare, "I will do it." You get up on your feet as he glances up at you. You smiled warmly at him.

"Wait for me."

"I will. Be careful."

You smiled with a new found hope and quickly got back to your bag, gathered your things and opened the door. You paused and glanced back at him. He pressed his hands on the wall with a smile, he shiled his hands around his mouth, huffed on the glass making a steam and drew a heart on it. You couldn't help but smile at that. You wave at him and carried the guards back and press them on the door along with their guns as if they fall asleep and quickly rush out of the corridor. Before you got out of the court you glanced back.

"I'll save you I promise."

[leeofthevoid]

Cold-blooded Beings - Part 4

Farleigh Start x Reader

a/n: It's been a rollercoaster and I hope I delivered a decent chapter this time around. I was thinking about making oneshots soon while resting my brain from this series. I promise you...Things will go a little crazier from here. Please share your thoughts! I'm so scared to write SMUT.

Warnings: Mentions of Alcohol, Strong language, Violence

Word Count: 2521

|| Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Guilt and Glory

With the help of other butlers, Duncan helped you, Farleigh, and Felix settle in. After two weeks of convincing from Farleigh and Felix that you should stay at Saltburn for the summer, you finally caved. It saved you hours on the plane going back to your estate in Andalusia for two months. 

Three days before Saltburn:

Getting a phone call from your mom after your exams, hoping for congratulations and a heartwarming invite to stay at your family home in Vienna. "Hello, daughter, how have you been?" You cleared your throat and smiled, "Been doing well, Mama."

"Very well then, I must let you know that you will reside at the South Estates when you depart from Oxford." You sighed and bit your lip in disappointment, trying to save yourself from an argument you might start and lose. "I see; thank you for informing me ahead of time. Where will you all be, if you don't mind me asking?" 

"Your Papa and I will be in France with your siblings. There has been a problem with our family branch there; your father's side always wants attention to be on them." You can't help but sigh with your mom, remembering how your cousins who lived in France were so overbearing even though they only leeched off from your father with money, not even half your allowance. Fakes. "Stay safe, Mama. I love you. Tell Papa and the little ones that, too." She hummed and ended your call.

"Well, that was stressful," Farleigh commented while typing away at his laptop. "Sorry you had to hear that; extended families suck ass." Farleigh chuckled and looked at you briefly before typing again. "I would know." He took refuge in your room every chance he got because you apparently had excellent ventilation and better leg space. Very obvious by the way he called dibs on your bed. "You'd like that, though, right? Be able to tell the leeches off?" 

You turned back at Farleigh while you sat on the foot of the bed, confused. "What's that supposed to mean?" 

He raised both his eyebrows with a slight smirk playing on his lips. "I'm just saying. You were so annoyed with your family leeching off your father, yet you can't tell Oliver he's using you as an ATM." He raised both his shoulders innocently and bit his lower lip. 

The air turned hot, and you didn't like the room's energy. "Farleigh, he's my friend." 

"Or your pet project?" He closed his laptop with a loud click and looked at you, waiting for a fight. It was frustrating on your part to be asked such cruel questions, especially after your Mother basically left you on your own. 

"Leave it, Farleigh. I'm not in the mood to discuss this." 

He scoffed. "Why? Because it's true? You just got bored like Felix and preyed on the scholarship weirdo." A visible frown plastered on your face as you stood up. He slid to the edge of your bed, a smirk still on his face. "Stop!" 

"Are you scared to admit that he looked so helpless when Mr. Ware favored me over him? When he stood in the corner of the hallways without friends?" 

"Farleigh, what the fuck!" 

He stood up and started to walk closer to you. "No. I'm sick of you playing god. You and Felix think you could bring another kid into the group without problems?" 

"Farleigh enough!" 

He was before you, towering over you with that shit-eating grin. "Is the Monarch losing her cool?" 

"Fuck off, Farleigh! Just because the Cattons took you in doesn't mean you're not a leech, too!" 

He smiled at you and sighed. "That's why I like you, Y/N. You're rotten, unlike me, who begs, right?"

You looked up at him with a confused look. "What happened? W-Why are you like this?" 

Farleigh didn't answer and left your room. 

You found out that night from Annabel that Farleigh apparently overheard how you and Felix talked about his Mother. How Felix told you about Fredrica Start's pitiful fate and your blatant honesty of her foolishness, making Farleigh beg for allowance more ever since she got sick. 

You sat down on your bed while Duncan instructed the maids how you liked your room done; he's such a true gentleman for that. They took a few minutes to place things under the head butler's watch and hurriedly left the room when they finished. 

"Dinner is the same time as before, Miss Y/N. Please wear something appropriate for a black tie event." You thanked him as he left. Leaving you alone in the special room the Cattons gave you. Venetia always said it would be yours because you were part of their family. Starting to think that you've been too loose with your mouth about family. 

Speaking of Venetia, she lightly knocked on the door and opened it, finding you in the middle of the room. "When they said they had someone good for me here, I didn't expect they were telling the truth." You ran to her and hugged her tight, even lifting her off the ground for a split second. "Vee! I missed you so much! You look beautiful!" 

A chorus of laughter and giddiness filled the once-quiet room. Venetia pulled you to your bed and sat down facing each other. "Babes, I was a fucking wreck when you left. Felix and Farleigh were worse, but that day was the most horrendous. Duncan had to pry Felix off the gate, Farleigh threatened to commit arson, and I was inconsolable." She had a knack for exaggerating stories like your Aunt Elspeth, but it does put a funny image in your head. 

You laughed, but she tried to convince you more. "I personally tried to jump off the plane to go back, but the guards told me that I would break my legs." Venetia realized how silly it sounded and laughed with you. You missed her so much because she never honestly did act her age, but in a way, you liked it better. Being able to have an older person connect with you better.

You plopped yourself on the bed as Venetia inspected her nails. "Farleigh and I aren't on good terms." She looked away from her nails to give you a look of disbelief. "Oh, please. Farleigh could never stand not being with you. Whatever you did, he would have been over it by now." You dramatically gasped and put a hand on your chest. "Why would you assume that it was me!" 

"Between you and Farleigh, you never get butthurt with anything since you were little." She was right. Farleigh seemed to be back to normal when you sat next to him in the cab, clingy. Did you catch him at the wrong time that day? Either way, you'll confront him after dinner to ease your nerves. 

Venetia talked her head off about the things she's been doing at Cambridge, even told you about the boys there that you should meet since "Oxford men are so last season," according to her. You both got ready in your room when Felix knocked on your door to join the gossip session you were having. Felix may be a guy, but he sure does have the mouth to rival his Mother. The room was filled with gasps, giggles, and squealing when Duncan knocked on your door to fetch you. It's dinner time. 

Venetia wasn't a fan of dinner time, especially when Elspeth did nothing but shower others with affection and not her. Elspeth was so excited seeing you walk to the dinner table, all dressed in a lovely white cocktail dress and dolled up. "Darling, look at you! So tall and beautiful! You definitely grew to be a model like me." You smiled at Elspeth as she hooked her arm around yours to lead you to sit next to her at the dinner table, sitting beside her. You looked back at Venetia, who smiled when mouthed 'No way,' rejecting all compliments Elspeth showered your way. 

Dinner went smoothly, aside from the fact that Farleigh wasn't as…Farleigh to you. He talked but barely did the usual gossip and glittering of stories. You loved that about him. 

Dinner ended on a good note. You had to excuse yourself from Elspeth and Pamela, who quickly fell into gossip when you walked away from them in the dining area. 

You walked outside to the yard, where their pond was. Sat on the little dock and looked at the stars littering the skies. "Lost, Pretty lady?" You looked up to the familiar head of curly hair and a wicked smirk. A cigarette in between his lips as he looked down on you. "Hello to you too, Farleigh. Tired of ignoring me?" He rolled his eyes and sat next to you. 

"Actually… I'd love to have you all to myself before Oliver comes here. You get a little too invested in your pet project." You scoffed and shoved him a little. "You act like I'm not your pet project, too, Farleigh. Don't deny the fact that you've been entertaining me so you can get more sexual partners." 

He laughed and scooted closer to you? Resting that big head of his. "You like it."

"No, I don't." Shaking your head while suppressing your smile. 

"Yes, you do."

"Yes, I do." 

You both chuckle as he takes the ends of your hair, playing with it between his fingers, caressing it so lightly. 

"I like our tension. The fact that you're the only pussy I haven't tried yet." You groaned and pushed him off you as he laughed. "Yeah, well, it takes more to get in between my legs, Start." 

"Oh god, don't tell me I must be Oliver to do that." He said in an incredulous tone. 

"Farleigh!" 

"What? It's true!" You shove him again but fail as he latches his arms around your waist while lying down on your lap. A fucking tease and a prick for reminding you about your gap in strength.

You gently caressed his head as you made yourselves comfortable on the docks, "I'm sorry about what I said…I don't mean it like that, you know?" He looked up at you with those beautiful eyes. "You meant it; you're just usually not an asshole to make me feel it." You drew out a breath and looked down on him. To actually look at Farleigh, one must brace themselves to have their breath taken away. He was mind-blowingly beautiful, and no one can deny him of that privilege. The Cattons were all beautiful. A beautiful chaos. 

Farleigh thought the same about you. It wasn't like you were a hidden gem; you never paid attention to it. He was mesmerized by something much more than him. That the person he had at arm's length is so…Unattainable.

"Farleigh, I was an asshole, and I hate myself for that. Please allow me to apologize and at least make it up to you." When you told him that, he had this mischievous aura, but he kept silent. "I'll hold you up to that." You almost regret being a decent human being. 

You simply hummed as you set your sights on Saltburn. Farleigh returned to playing with your hair, braiding, and doing all types of knots. 

It was a good night. It felt like so many things had changed, and so many things had stayed the same. 

The next day was eventful. Felix pulled you all out of bed at six in the morning to enjoy a time together at the vast Gazebo they had near the pond. Farleigh, Venetia, and you all looked like the undead, slowly dragging your feet to follow Felix. 

"Ladies and Gentleman! It is with my great pleasure."

"Fuck off." Farleigh snidely remarked. Felix gave him a dirty look, making you and Venetia go into fits of giggles. 

"As I was saying. Ladies and Cunty man, I'm happy to show you all…Picnic paradise." 

Two maids opened the Gazebo to show you a beautifully set-up breakfast on a picnic blanket. Venetia slowly walked up to Felix with a smile and hug, sleepily hanging on to him as he led her to the blanket. "I'd love to praise Felix, but the sun is barely out to help me hide my lies." You chuckle as Farleigh slides his arm around yours and follows the two siblings inside. 

Venetia and Felix always had a weird relationship. They clung to each other since you were all kids while you and Farleigh felt like outsiders. Venetia fed Felix some food while Felix was lying down on the blanket, reading that Harry Potter book. "I reckon Mum would be upset that we ate without them." Venetia had this playful smile on her lips, mouth stained with wine. “Auntie Elspeth would understand; our special guest is too special to have a slimy ole English breakfast.” Farleigh answered.

All eyes turned to you mid-bite on a croissant, making you a tad bit conscious. "Seriously, can't there be a hint of privacy for me and my breakfast?" Felix propped himself up with his arms and turned to look at you. "Voyeurism is a thing of this family." He gave a wink, prompting you to throw a good pastry away…On his face. Farleigh and Venetia soon held to their food and chucked it at Felix. 

A food war at six in the morning! Elspeth said it was Utterly preposterous looking back at how much mess you made. The Gazebo was filled to the brim with food all over the wood panelings and the stained glass roof windows. All of you went out looking like a mess, and it got many questions from Elspeth and Duncan. 

"Eugh, I'm going to take a bath." The first few words that broke the silence while you were all standing outside the house lined up like school children. "Want me to join you?" You smacked Felix on the chest hard as you marched past him to go up to your shared bathroom with Fareigh to get everything out of every crevice. 

After the initial buzz from the morning’s event, you all sat with Sir James at the library to watch another movie he had set his sights on. It was funny; it really had the room filling up with laughter and some smart remarks from Farleigh. 

Then came the Oliver topic. Felix first reminded us about Oliver and his situation. How he invited him due to the loss of his father, thankful and grateful that your best friend was kind enough to cheer Ollie up. Elspeth gasped and was verbal about her sympathy, especially towards Pamela…Very verbal and elaborate.

Farleigh sat behind you on a chair, typing away on his laptop with a disapproved look, you checked his screen and they were all littered with Fuck yous and other colorful words. Guess he truly did hate Ollie. “And he lent me his bike, Mum! I was seriously going to get into trouble, but my savior just happened to walk by!” Elspeth gasped and rubbed Felix’s arm in a motherly manner. 

You can’t help how Venetia had a tinge of jealousy or yearning on her face. It can be a topic discussed for later, you suppose.

At the end of the day, you are reminded of a few things, and they all circle around Oliver. Not to be crazy, but…Why do you feel so nervous?

Previous | Next

[blindmagdalena]

Hii, how are you? I hope you're doing well! If you haven't done it yet can I request Homelander losing his powers (forever or just temporarily, it's up to you) and y/n helping him learn to do normal human things? And if possible could you add the angst of Homie being confused as to why she's still with him now that he isn't a god/hero anymore?

They're gone. Flight, strength, lasers, invulnerability. Everything that made him who he is... is gone. Homelander—can he even call himself that anymore?—feels his own mortality like a crushing weight. He's become hyperaware of the limitations of his own body, which feels more and more like a cage every day he spends in it. He's too tired, too frail, too fucking weak to do anything.

His powers weren't the only thing to disappear. No longer of use to Vought, and without the power to hold them under his thumb, he's lost that, too. The Seven. Even Ashley laughed in his fucking face. The man in the mirror, the real Homelander, perhaps, won't speak to him anymore. Everyone has left him. Except you.

He stands now in your home, dressed down in civilian clothing. He feels stripped down in them, exposed, itchy all over, but he can't bring himself to wear the suit. It feels like a costume now, a cruel mockery of what he has lost. You're showing him how to fold the laundry you taught him how to run. Your voice is a distant hum over the ringing in his ears, his gaze distant. He watches you fold the shirt, understanding, but when he moves to replicate your action, his hands feel numb and clumsy. He can't get the seams to meet the way you do. "Good job," he hears you say. John scoffs. "Don't fucking patronize me," he says, frustration laced through both his tone and his body language, drawn as tight as a stressed elastic, and just as likely to snap. From the corner of his eye, he sees you flinch, taken aback by his words. It makes him sick, but he can't stop himself. You're the only one. The only one who has stood by his side, and yet he feels a burning fury churning his gut. He looks at you properly, jaw tight, before he wads up the shirt and whips it to the floor. "Why are you even here?" He demands, closing in on you. You stand your ground, a shirt held up between your hands like some flimsy shield. "This make you feel good? Seeing me down on my fucking knees, stumbling through life like a fucking nobody? I was a hero, goddamn it! I gave this country my fucking life, and what do I have to show for it? Huh? You tell me! You tell me what any of it was fucking for!" "John, no. No. It's because I love you," you say, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. He hates the look in your wide eyes. It isn't fear, it's worse; it's pity. He can't hear your heart anymore. He can't comfort himself with the hard evidence that you aren't lying to him. Fuck, he misses the sound of your heart so much.

"Don't," he whispers, expression twisting, wounded. "I love you, John," you say again, as if you can feel he doesn't believe it. "I'm here because I love you."

"There's nothing fucking left of me," he hisses, grabbing hold of your shoulders. You used to feel like ceramic in his hands, delicate, as if he were always at risk of shattering you. Now, he can only feel your strength. You drop the shirt and lift your hands to cup his elbows, supporting the way he leans into you. "That's not true," you tell him ardently, the conviction in your voice unraveling him. "My god, John, you're... You're so much more than you realize," you say, voice catching with the sheer swell of earnest emotion flooding it. It twists like a knife in his chest. "I love you more than you'll ever know." "You fell in love with a hero," he says like a counterpoint, voice fracturing. "A fucking god." "I fell in love with you," you refute, impassioned. You shake him lightly by his arms, desperately willing him to hear you. "It was never the powers that made you my hero. It was always the man behind them." John makes a noise like you've gutted him, sinking to his knees. You go down too easily, ever eager to follow where he leads, and pull his head into the crook of your neck, cradling him. He wastes no time pulling you bodily into his lap, arms wrapping around you with urgency, holding so tightly that super strength or not, he may crush you. Despite his best efforts, a sob wrenches free from his throat. Like a domino, it knocks out another, and then another, until he's weeping openly in your arms, rocking back and forth. You cradle the back of his head, hushing him softly. You stroke his back, making him feel small in your arms. "I feel so fucking empty," he manages to grit out, breath catching on a broken breath in. "They couldn't wait. They couldn't wait to get rid of me."

"I'm sorry," you whisper. He can hear the tears you're fighting back. "I'm so, so sorry, John." You stay like that for as long as he needs you, carding your fingers through his hair as his shoulders shake through raw, unfiltered sobs. There are moments that he feels close to death, unable to breathe, lightheaded. Things he's never had to feel before. The weight of the world is bearing down on him, and for the first time in his life, he hasn't the strength to withstand it. But he has you. Eventually, exhaustion begins to set in, robbing him of the energy to weep. You hold him through every second of it, soothing whispers of love, devotion, adoration. Your words sink into him like something tangible, and if only briefly, the vest void inside him feels lesser. In this moment, pressed against your chest, John hears a familiar comfort. Your heart beats steadily in his ear. He grimaces, flexing his hold on you, and exhales a shaky, relieved breath. "Don't ever leave me," he murmurs, eyes closed. "I won't," you swear. "Not ever." He's sure that your heart doesn't waiver. He prays that it never does.

[jawritter]

Carry On

Chapter 2

Summary: It was just a simple hunt, found on a pie festival. It was supposed to be easy. Something they’d all done one hundred and one times a million. No one could have told Y/N, Dean, and Sam that nothing from that point on would ever be the same again.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2796

Warnings: Heavy, HEAVY TW: Dean’s final episode of SPN. (Season 15x20 spoilers). Graphic injury. Me botching medical jargon, A lot of pain, blood, and hospital type atmosphere. Injured Dean Winchester. Angst.

Due to the graphic nature of this fic, and the fact that it will eventually contain Smut. This fic is an 18 + only fic! If you’re under 18 DO NOT read this fic!

A/N: This fic is beta’d by @kazsrm67 Thanks so much love! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! I hope you all enjoy this ride with me!

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Y/N followed the nurse and Sam down the hallway towards the ICU ward of the hospital with legs that felt as if they each weighed fifty pounds. She never thought in a million years that this would be so hard. For hours, she had sat in that room with Sam on pins and needles; wanting to see him, wanting to know if he was okay, if he’d survived the surgery. Now, as they made their journey through the busy hospital hallways with all the smells of bleach and Lysol burning her nose, as well as sick or injured people rolling around in wheelchairs, or people with bandages tied to random parts of them walking slowly with nurses wheeling IV poles some with multiple bags hanging from them, it only served to send her anxiety through the ceiling. 

Thoughts of, ‘will this be Dean one day? Stuck in a wheelchair, watching from his doorway as people moved on about their day or their own recovery while he was trapped in his own body?’

Of all the cruel things in the world that could have happened to Dean, after everything he’d been through, after all he’d sacrificed, being confined to a chair and unable to hunt, unable to drive his baby, unable to do basic everyday things, that seemed the cruelest form of a living hell to her. 

All of this flooded her mind knowing that there was a good chance Dean would never wake up again, that infection would set in; he wouldn’t ever survive to get to that point, but she couldn’t make herself believe that. She couldn’t make herself believe that he’d held on this long, survived the flight here, survived being impaled against a fucking poll, just to die on his back in an ICU bed, unable to talk, unable to move, and unconscious. She couldn’t accept that; wouldn’t accept that.

They followed the nurse behind a set of heavy doors that required her to slide her ID badge to open, and stepped into a large room with a huge desk in the middle of it, and curtained off rooms with patients lying in beds. Some, just from standing at a distance, looked worse than others did. Most of them were on some kind of life support, the ones she could see with the curtains open anyway, and it was so deadly quiet in there that you could have heard a pin drop down the hallway.  It almost had the same air as a funeral home did right before the services started, and the mourners gathered around to say their final farewell; it made her breath quicken and her chest tighten. 

“Okay,” Rayne said as she turned around in front of the blue curtain she’d led them to in the center of the circle of ‘rooms.’ “I’ll give you guys some time, I’ll be right there at the nurse’s desk. Remember, he looks a lot worse than what he actually is right now. He’s stable. He’s a little pale, a little swollen from the surgery and trauma he’s been through; but he’s comfortable. If you need me, I’ll be at the nurse’s desk until I have to come get you guys. I can’t let you stay here, but we allow visitors to come in and check on their loved ones every few hours, and I’ll leave you with a phone number to my desk over there, where you can give his name and call any time for updates. If something happens, whether it’s an increase or a decrease in his stability, or whatever, I will let you know.”

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded as the nurse pulled the curtain to the side, and allowed the pair to step in before she closed it, leaving them alone with Dean. 

Nothing could have prepared her for the sight that awaited her there on that bed. It almost didn’t even look like Dean. His face was swollen. He was shirtless and had it not been for his tattoo, she might have argued that they’d brought them to the wrong person. There were tubes coming from his mouth and sides, one of which she assumed was the vent and the others drains. His chest rose and fell in a strange, slow rhythm. His arms were flat down by his sides. There was bruising she could see on his chest, sides, and upper left shoulder. It sent her heart crashing to her feet as she numbly made her way to one side of the bed, and Sam the other. 

This couldn’t be real! She was dreaming. This had to be a nightmare, and if Sam wasn’t standing across from her, she probably would have pinched herself to try and wake herself up. Dean looked so helpless, so small in that big bed covered in tubes and monitors. The muffled beep from the heart monitor was maddening. It was all too much, but something, a force she never would understand, moved her closer to him, and she reached to run her fingers through his hair as a fresh wave of emotions crashed into her chest and ran down her face. 

“Fuck Dean,” she whispered in a shaking voice. Sam said nothing, he just stood there, eyes glued to his big brother; oversized hands gripping the handrails for support. “Sam, there has got to be something we can do, try and contact Jack, anything? We can’t just leave him like this!”

“He told me not to intervene Y/N. I have to respect his wishes, and besides, even If I could, there’s no way I could get in contact with Jack to have him step in and make this right. He’s not Chuck, he’s left this in our own hands, he said so himself. He’s not gonna be hands on. If you try and do something as stupid as sell your soul for him, that’s not gonna do Dean any favors. I watched it nearly kill him when Dad did it, and if you or I do that; it will kill him. Dean is just gonna have to fight this out on his own. There's nothing we can do.”

Y/N’s emotions were all over the place, and in her grief soaked mind, she felt as if Sam was giving up on him, and it sent her blood pressure through the roof. Like he was just walking away, doing nothing to help, even if she did understand the logic behind his words, it still stung; if she wasn’t standing there with her fingers running through Dean’s hair, she probably would have screamed at him. 

“If he survives this,” Sam continued, “He’s not gonna be the same. He’s gonna need someone with him, he’s gonna need you. Y/N there’s some things I just can’t do for him that you can.”

“Oh, I’m not going anywhere Sam, not unless he wakes up and sends me away, but why do I get the feeling you're about to tuck tail and run away?” she bit out, and visibly flinched. 

“There are some things I’m gonna have to go home and do, like take care of Miracle. I’ll be back, but you heard the doctor. They think you’re his wife. You’re gonna be number one on the contact list, and I’m not mad about that, please don’t think that, you did what you had to do to get them out there. You’re the reason he’s still alive. I’ll be back, I just got to go get Miracle, and I’ll be back… And maybe even get Eileen.”

“Bullshit,” Y/N growled, as she looked down at Dean’s face. “You’re not coming back.”

“Y/N, I love him, he’s my brother, I’ll be back, but I’ve got to wrap up this hunt, take care of Miracle–it’s really, really hard for me to see him like this right now. Dean’s gonna be in this hospital for a long time, but when he gets out, he’s not gonna be able to travel, I don’t want to set him up at a hotel. I’ll have to rent him an apartment, and Eileen can help with that. We’re gonna all need each other. I might leave for a while, but I trust you to take care of him, and I will be back.”

She knew arguing with him was not something that was going to help either of them right now, and especially not going to help Dean. She could tell by the look on Sam’s face he was struggling; it was hard to see Dean this way. The man that had always been there for him and taken care of him when quite frankly no one else would. So, she would let him leave without a fight, and hope he wouldn’t do his brother the disservice of turning his back on him. 

It wasn’t even anything Sam had done in the past that made her feel this way. Her trust issues were earned when her own family turned their back on her years ago. Honestly, it’s just hard to turn something like that off. 

“You need to be here when he wakes up Sam,” she scolded him one final time for good measure, because she just couldn’t help it. His emotions may have been high right now, but so were hers. 

“I will be back in three days, I swear it, and then I will rent that apartment so that we will have somewhere to take him when he’s released until he can come home.”

Y/N nodded, but didn’t say anything, she was tired, so very tired, and didn’t have it in her to carry on this conversation any further. 

In what felt like no time at all, the curtain drew back, and Rayne was standing there with an apologetic look on her face, ready to tell them it was time to leave. 

“He likes that,” she said, looking at the monitor over Dean’s right shoulder behind where Y/N was standing. 

“What?” she questioned, and the nurse smiled and pointed at the monitor. 

“His heart rate, it lowered to a resting pace, It was slightly elevated when I walked you guys in here. I can see it on my computer at the desk. I was wondering what calmed him down, if it was just the medication or what, but apparently, he really likes it when you play with his hair.”

It was something she had been doing since she had walked in, and she hadn’t even really registered that she was still doing it, but when she looked down at him as she carded her fingers through his short hair again, he did look as if he was more relaxed than he did when she walked in. As much as she could tell anyway with all those tubes and things running from him. 

“I wish I could stay here with him,” she admitted, and the nurse nodded sadly. 

“In a few hours you can come back in and sit with him a little longer. Right now, he needs his rest,” she said. “I will keep a close eye on him, and if anything changes, I promise I will come and get you or call you.”

Y/N nodded as the pressure started to build behind her eyes, and she fought back tears that threatened to spill there in front of everyone. She had never felt this weak; this vulnerable, and she definitely didn’t like the fact that this was so out of her hands, and that there was nothing she could do to make this better for Dean; when in all honesty, she would have traded place with him in a heartbeat, she almost prayed it would have been her instead. She’d gladly take it all away for him. The pain, the battle to come, all of it. 

She leaned down and pressed her lips to his forehead, lingering there longer than she should have, but she didn’t give a shit what anyone thought at this point. Sam leaned forward and placed his hand on top of Deans as well, giving it a squeeze as his hazel eyes took in Dean’s sleeping form. 

“I’ll be back as soon as I can, and I’ll even try to get them to let me get Miracle in here to see you if you can wake up for me, okay? Just hang in there, man.”

The pair followed the nurse out into the waiting area again reluctantly, and Y/N did her best to stabilize her breathing as she settled on the couch that sat in the room. It wasn’t big, but she’d make due, because in two hours she could see Dean and that would be worth it. 

“Go back to the motel Y/N, get some sleep, and then come back and see him.” Sam suggested as he adjusted his jacket, Dean’s keys gripped tightly in his hands. 

“Na, I think I’ll stay here with him until I can see him again,” Y/N answered, and Sam tossed Dean’s keys to her. 

“Here, he’s gonna want to know where his baby is when he wakes up, I can uh… hitch a ride, and be back here with my own car,” Sam said with a wink. “Let me know if anything changes, I’ll be back in two days.”

Without a word, she watched him leave. When she could no longer see him, Y/N looked at the clock, this was going to be a long two hours, but an even longer week. She needed to see his eyes again. She needed him awake. More than she needed oxygen. 

There was a slight fear that when Dean woke up, he’d ask her to leave. Dean had never really shown her that he really cared for her much more than a fellow hunter. Other than that, Y/N was just another person standing in the room. The likelihood that he would wake up and dismiss her was greater than him asking her to say, no matter how much the nurse said he liked it when she played with his hair. 

“Here,” a sudden voice made her startle, and she looked up to see Rayne standing over her with a blanket, and a pillow. “Try and get some sleep, I’ll come and wake you when it’s time to go see him again.”

“Thanks,” Y/N responded as she took the pillow and blanket from her. “Is he okay?”

“He’s stable,” she answered with a smile. “Which alone is a big step for someone who suffered such a bad injury.”

Y/N chewed on her lip as she thought about that for a moment, and Rayne turned to leave, she wasn’t going to ask, but she had to know, she just had too. 

“Can he hear us, when we’re in there with him? Does he know what’s going on?” Y/N questioned, and the nurse stopped dead in her tracks, and turned around with her hand on the door frame as she thought about that for a moment. 

“Medical Scientists and professionals will tell you no, they can’t hear you, that they are in a completely unconscious state, but I’ve been an ICU nurse for over 20 years, and I think they’re wrong. I’ve had patients be in comas for almost a month, to the point where we have to take the vent out and put a trache in to prevent infections and other complications; but when they woke up, they’d tell their loved ones about conversations they overheard, or songs that where played, or someone playing with their hair.”

Y/N nodded slowly, and looked down at the blanket that was still in her hands as she tried to process that information. 

“The human mind is an amazing thing, just when we think we’ve got it figured out, someone comes along and proves us wrong. I've never seen someone with an injury as bad as Dean’s to survive the transport, let alone the surgery. I watched the physical response when you started to play with his hair. I think he might know you’re there, even if he can’t communicate it, or if he can’t remember it, I believe that he senses you.”

Y/N offered the nurse a smile and looked back down at the blanket, words failing her. She hoped she was right in a way, and she at least hoped Dean knew that he wasn’t alone. She may not have felt like she counted for much, but she was there for him, she’d be there until she was sent away, no matter how long it took; maybe one day, she’d get the nerve up to tell him how she really felt about him, but right now, she just wanted him to be okay. 

“Get some sleep Mrs. Clearwater.” 

“I’ll try.”

Forever:

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