#carrying over only a few things and starting fresh with everyone else

[acute-scary]

Behind the Ropes... a Jey Uso x Rhea Ripley FanFic.

Chapter 19: my tormenta...

Just a few days later...

October 2nd, 2024. 5:12 P.M.

The house felt emptier without Jey. Rhea sat on the couch in Jon and Trinity's living room, her thoughts racing as she absently scrolled through her phone. It had been a few days since she had last seen him—since he scrambled to make that last-minute flight for the press releases and appearances after winning the Intercontinental Championship. He’d been told he had the rest of the week off, but Friday afternoon, while at Universal Studios with Jeyce and Jaciyah, everything changed.

They had been having a great time. The kids’ laughter filled the air as they explored the park, and for a moment, everything felt normal—just Rhea and Jey with the kids, enjoying themselves away from the constant chaos. But then the phone call came. Jey’s face shifted from relaxed to tense, his plans suddenly upended. He’d barely had time to drop the kids off at his Dad's house before heading to the airport and Takecia wasn't exactly too thrilled with that. Rhea had heard the whole conversation on the phone, Jey kept telling her it was for work and Takecia came back with a reply, "Last time it was work it was actually Rhea.." Rhea knew this was his life, their life now, but that didn’t make the house feel any less empty without him.

Since then, Rhea had stayed with Jon and Trinity, though her mind was occupied with preparing for their new chapter. The rental property they had signed for was coming together, with a move-in date scheduled for October 16th. Rhea had spent the week finalizing details—furniture, utilities, and packing up the few things they’d brought. The new place was meant to be a fresh start, a clean slate for both of them, but it seemed like every step forward brought another hurdle.

The news had broken about them—TMZ, of course, couldn’t resist. The photos of her and Jey at Universal with the kids were plastered all over social media, but that wasn’t the worst of it. The gossip site had also leaked that both Rhea and Jey had filed for divorce from their exes, setting the internet ablaze with speculation. Within hours, the whispers had spread to the locker room.

It wasn’t long before she felt the shift. The eyes, the whispers, the pointed stares. The locker room that had once felt like family had grown cold. Everyone had an opinion, and most of them weren’t good. People who used to greet her with warmth now kept their distance, avoiding her as if she carried some kind of scandalous disease. Rhea knew why. They saw her as the new Lita, a homewrecker, a woman who had stepped out of bounds. The tabloids were already calling her that—the next “Lita,” dredging up the old affair between Amy Dumas and Adam Copeland.

She had tried to ignore it, but it stung. She wasn’t Lita, and Jey wasn’t Edge. They weren’t even trying to hide anything anymore, not now that their divorces were public. But the locker room had made their choice, and it was clear who they were siding with. Only a small group of people still talked to them—Damian, Kayden, Finn, Dom, JD, Carlos, Liv, Joseph, Cody, and Joe. Everyone else had shut them out.

Paul hadn’t been happy about the news breaking either, even though he had known about the affair long before TMZ did. There was no way he wouldn’t have heard the whispers, and if anyone knew how to handle a situation like this, it was him. Still, Paul wasn’t prepared for the fallout, not like this. The backlash was directed mostly at her, and that made it worse. Paul had pulled Jey aside recently, confirming that he would still keep the Intercontinental Championship despite the controversy, but that hadn’t stopped the rumors. Some people had gone straight to Paul, questioning if Jey deserved to hold the title after everything that had come out.

Worse, the questions had spread to her and Damian’s spots on the roster as the indestructible forces known as the 'Terror Twins'. People were wondering if they should even still be there. That got to her the most—knowing that Damian, her best friend, was under fire because of choices she had made. Damian tried to reassure her, told her to ignore the noise, but she could tell it bothered him too. The isolation, the whispers, the judgment—it was all starting to weigh her down.

Rhea leaned back into the couch, her eyes focused on nothing in particular. "Lita," she muttered under her breath, the word tasting bitter on her tongue. She wasn’t some villainous seductress out to ruin lives. Her relationship with Jey had been complicated, messy, but it had never been malicious. Why couldn’t anyone see that?

She sighed, pulling up her messages. Damian had texted her earlier about traveling with Jey for the next few weeks. It was weird for Jey, she knew that much. People were looking at him differently now, the same way they were looking at her. Every time he walked into the locker room, there were whispers. Damian said Jey shrugged it off, but she knew it hurt. It was more than just the locker room—it was the magazines, the fans, everyone who thought they knew their story when they didn’t even know the half of it.

Suddenly, her phone buzzed again. It was Jey.

"Miss me?" his text read, followed by a picture of him and Damian grinning like idiots, standing outside some press event. Rhea couldn't help but smile.

"More than you know," she replied, feeling a little lighter. She missed him, missed their quiet moments together, the way he always made her feel like she could breathe when everything else felt suffocating.

But for now, they had to deal with the storm they were in, together. No matter how many people turned their backs, they still had each other—and for Rhea, that was enough.

--

Jey stood off to the side, his eyes drifting around the bustling crowd at the WWE Fanatics event. The air buzzed with excitement, fans eager to catch a glimpse of their favorite superstars, and media lined up, ready to grab interviews. Tiffany Stratton and Nia Jax were up next for interviews, and Jey and Damian would follow them. He glanced at his phone and smiled as he texted Rhea, letting her know that everything was going smoothly.

"Miss me?" he had texted a few minutes ago, and her reply made him feel a little closer to home, even in the middle of the chaos.

Next to him, Damian nudged his arm. "Got the email," he said, a sly grin spreading across his face.

Jey arched a brow. "Email for what?"

"The chef," Damian replied, holding up his phone. "It’s confirmed. October 12th, Jon and Trinity’s new place. Rhea’s birthday is gonna be legendary, man."

Jey felt a rush of relief. He had come to Damian needing help organizing something special for Rhea’s 28th birthday. With everything that had been happening—their relationship being exposed, the constant judgment from everyone around them, and the overwhelming stress—Jey wanted to give her a moment to forget it all. Something intimate, something just for them and the few people who still had their backs.

Rhea’s birthday was on October 11th, but they had planned to hold the event on the 12th. Jon and Trinity had been in the middle of moving to their new home in Pensacola, and while most of their belongings had already been moved, they were still waiting for the electricity to be turned on, which wouldn’t happen until Friday night. For now, there were just the essentials left in the house—two beds, one for Rhea and the other for Jon and Trinity, along with the couches. Jey, however, it was easy for him and Rhea to move because Takecia was keeping the house and the furniture and Rhea refusing to set foot in her old home; it was only fair to both of them they get new everything: furniture, decor etc.

Damian had taken charge of booking the private chef, a rising star on Instagram, known for creating luxurious in-home dining experiences. That part of the plan was locked in. Now, Jey was on the hunt for the right party planner, someone who could bring his vision to life—a Great Gatsby-themed party. It wasn’t just because of the extravagance of the theme; it was for Rhea. Jon had mentioned that she had been glued to that movie, watching it on repeat since everything went down. Jey didn’t need to ask why. He could feel it every time he spoke to her, that something was off, something she wasn’t telling him. She always shrugged it off, telling him she was fine, but he knew better. He’d seen that kind of coping before.

"You sure she doesn’t suspect anything?" Damian asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket.

"Nah, man," Jey said, though his voice carried a trace of doubt. "She keeps saying everything’s fine, but I can tell something’s wrong."

Damian gave him a look. "And she’s still watching The Great Gatsby?"

"Over and over," Jey said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I know she’s hurting, but she won’t let me in. Every time I ask, she just brushes it off."

"That’s her way of dealing, I guess," Damian said with a shrug. "You know Rhea—she’s not gonna show it until she’s ready."

Jey sighed. "Yeah, but I want to do something, you know? This birthday, it’s gotta be perfect. It’s the least I can do after everything she’s been through."

Damian nodded. "Well, between the chef and the theme, she’s gonna love it. We just gotta keep it quiet."

As they stood there, waiting for their cue to head to the interview area, Jey’s phone buzzed again. This time it was Jon, texting him about the final details for the house move.

Jon: Got an email, the electricity will be on Friday morning instead of Friday night. You’re good for the 12th. Just make sure you get that party planner locked in Uce.

Jey smiled at the message. Jon had been nothing but supportive since everything had blown up. He and Trinity had opened their home to them, and now they were offering their new place for Rhea’s party. They knew, just as much as Jey did, how much Rhea needed this, even if she wouldn’t admit it.

Jey: Thanks, Uce. I’m on it.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket just as the crew signaled for them to head over for the interview.

"Ready?" Damian asked, adjusting his jacket.

"Yeah, let’s do this," Jey replied, but his mind was already racing ahead. The party planner, the decorations, the perfect Gatsby-style extravagance. He wanted everything to be flawless, a night where Rhea could escape, even if just for a few hours, from all the noise, all the judgment, all the hurt.

As they made their way to the interview area, the weight of everything lingered in the back of Jey’s mind. He couldn’t change what people thought of them, couldn’t erase the judgment they were facing, but he could give Rhea something special. Something that showed her, without a doubt, how much she meant to him.

--

Trinity pushed open the door to their soon-to-be former home, her steps echoing in the mostly empty space. The house was almost cleared out now, with only a few essential items left. As she walked into the living room, she saw Rhea lying on the couch, staring at her phone. The Great Gatsby was playing yet again, the small screen glowing in the dim room.

Trinity sighed softly. "Rhea, you’ve gotta stop with that movie," she said, walking over. "Come on, you know you need our help picking out the furniture. You still need to choose your master bedroom set and the two guest bedrooms."

Rhea groaned but didn’t look away from her phone. She knew Trinity was right, but it was hard to pull herself out of the comfort zone she had built with the movie playing on repeat. The familiarity of it kept her mind from wandering too far into the painful realities of her life.

Trinity sat down beside her, nudging her leg. "I mean it. You can’t leave this all to me. The only thing I need is a new dining room set—everything else is on you."

Rhea let out a deep sigh and paused the movie. She knew this was important, and she didn’t want to leave all the decisions up to Trinity. "Okay, okay," she muttered, sitting up. "I’m coming."

Trinity smiled, standing up and giving Rhea’s arm a light tug. "Good. I promise it’ll be fun. You get to make the place feel like home."

Reluctantly, Rhea slid her phone into her pocket and followed Trinity out the door. Jon’s Mustang was parked in the driveway, the trunk still loaded with boxes and bags that hadn’t found a place yet. Jon leaned against the car, scrolling through his phone, but looked up as the women approached.

"Finally!" Jon teased, smirking at Rhea. "Took you long enough."

Rhea rolled her eyes but managed a small smile. She slid into the crowded backseat of the Mustang, squeezing herself in among the bags and random belongings that still needed to be moved.

Jon hopped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. "Ready to buy a whole house worth of furniture in one afternoon?"

"Not really," Rhea muttered, resting her head against the window.

The drive to Furniture Row was filled with easy conversation between Jon and Trinity, though Rhea stayed mostly quiet. She was still feeling disconnected, like her mind was stuck in a fog. It was hard to focus on anything other than the chaos swirling in her life—her divorce, the media circus, the whispers from the locker room.

But today wasn’t about any of that. Today was about her future, her new home with Jey, and making it their own. As they pulled into the large parking lot of Furniture Row, she tried to push the heaviness aside. This was supposed to be a fresh start, and she needed to start embracing it, even if it felt overwhelming.

Jon parked, and the three of them stepped out into the warm afternoon sun. Trinity was already excited, practically dragging Rhea toward the entrance of the massive showroom.

Inside, the store was a maze of beautifully arranged rooms, each setup more elaborate than the last. Rhea felt a little daunted by the sheer number of choices, but she knew she had to focus. The new rental needed furniture, and she didn’t want to put this off any longer.

Trinity guided her toward the bedroom section first, eyeing different sets. "Okay, you’ve got the master and two guest rooms to fill. Let’s start with your room—something comfortable, luxurious. You deserve it."

Rhea nodded, though the enthusiasm still wasn’t there. She wandered through the rows of beds, running her fingers along the soft headboards and polished wood frames. Eventually, a king-sized bedroom set caught her eye. It was white and elegant, the kind of bed that invited you to sink in and forget about the world for a while.

"I like this one," Rhea said, her voice a little stronger. "For the master bedroom." She had wanted to get away from the black due to having black furniture with Matt.

Trinity smiled. "Perfect. Now let’s find something for the guest rooms."

They spent the next hour moving through the store, selecting two more simple yet cozy bed sets for the guest rooms, Rhea had decided to make them boy friendly for Jey's kids out of respect for both of them. The two then made their way to the dining section. Rhea tried to focus on the details, even though part of her still wanted to retreat.

In the dining area, Jon was already checking out options for Trinity’s new set, running his hands over the surfaces of various tables and chairs. "So what are you thinking, Rhea?" he asked, looking over his shoulder. "Rustic? Modern?"

Rhea took a deep breath, looking over the different sets. She wasn’t sure what style she wanted, but a sleek dark wood table with matching upholstered chairs caught her attention. It was understated yet elegant—something that could work for both formal dinners and casual meals with Jey and their close friends.

"That one," she said, pointing to the table. "It feels right."

Jon and Trinity exchanged a smile, pleased to see Rhea starting to get into the spirit of things.

"You’ve got good taste," Jon commented, stepping over to examine the table more closely. "This’ll look great in your new place."

Rhea smiled, a small sense of accomplishment settling over her. It wasn’t much, but it was a step toward building the life she and Jey were trying to create. Maybe the fog she’d been trapped in was beginning to lift, even if just a little.

As they headed back to the Mustang, with orders placed and delivery dates set, Jon tossed the keys in the air, catching them with a grin. "Not bad for an afternoon of work."

"Yeah," Rhea said, the corners of her lips curling into a smile. "Not bad at all, hope Jey doesn't freak out too much on the pricing..."

"He will be just okay with the $800 down payment you just dropped.." Jon said grinning.

Rhea's Master Bedroom Set:

Rhea's Guest Bedroom Sets:

Trinity's Dining Room Set:

As they walked out of the furniture store, Rhea’s phone buzzed in her hand. She smiled faintly as she saw the message from Jey—he had finally replied to the pictures she’d sent him of the bedroom and dining sets.

"These are great, babe," his message read, followed quickly by, "How’s your day going?"

Rhea’s fingers tapped away quickly, filling him in on the afternoon. The two messaged back and forth for a while, exchanging updates and little comments, their conversation offering her some comfort in the otherwise heavy day. Even though Jey wasn’t physically there, the connection they had through their messages felt grounding.

As Jon pulled the Mustang out of the parking lot and back onto the road, Trinity spoke up from the passenger seat. "You hungry, Rhea? We’re thinking Chick-fil-A. Want something?"

Rhea, feeling a hunger she hadn’t noticed before, nodded. "Yeah, I could eat."

They stopped at the drive-thru and ordered their meals. Jon drove slowly through the line, the trio choosing to eat in the car for privacy. Rhea leaned back, nibbling on her food while glancing at her phone every so often, waiting for Jey’s next message.

By the time they pulled back into the driveway, the sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the nearly empty house. Enjoying their final days in the home before they officially moved out.

Jon tossed his keys on the kitchen counter and stretched. "I’ll get us some drinks. You guys sit tight."

Rhea and Trinity settled onto the couch, and for a moment, the room was quiet, save for the faint hum of traffic from outside. Trinity turned toward Rhea, a serious yet gentle expression on her face.

"You sure you’re okay?" Trinity asked, her tone laced with genuine concern. "You’ve been… well, kind of distant lately. With everything going on, I just want to make sure you're good."

Rhea forced a small smile, the kind that didn’t reach her eyes. "I’m fine, really," she answered reflexively. But deep down, she knew that wasn’t true.

Trinity leaned back, eyeing her knowingly. "Girl, come on. You’ve been watching The Great Gatsby on repeat. I mean, I get it, Leo is gorgeous, but…" She nudged Rhea playfully. "You’re a little obsessed, don’t you think?"

Rhea let out a soft laugh, but it was hollow. The mention of the movie made her stomach tighten—a reminder of the emotional weight it carried for her, one that she hadn’t shared with anyone yet.

Just then, Jon returned with three glasses, passing them out. He took a seat on the couch beside Trinity, raising an eyebrow as he noticed the tension between the two women. "Everything okay?"

Rhea hesitated for a moment, looking down at the drink in her hand. She swirled the liquid, watching it move, before glancing up at both of them. Her chest tightened, but she knew she couldn’t keep it bottled up anymore.

"Do you two really want to know why I’ve been watching The Great Gatsby so much?" she asked softly, her voice almost trembling. Jon and Trinity exchanged curious glances before nodding, leaning in slightly.

Rhea took a deep breath. "It’s… it’s the saddest love story ever written. Every time I watch it, I feel like I’m Daisy, stuck between Gatsby and her husband, Tom. But in my case, Jey is Gatsby, and… this whole mess we’re in—this thing called reality—that’s Tom."

Her words hung in the air, and the weight of them hit hard. Jon’s face grew serious, and Trinity listened intently, nodding for Rhea to continue.

Rhea pressed on, her voice shaking as she tried to explain the complexity of her feelings. "Daisy loved Gatsby, but she couldn’t give him everything. She couldn’t fully break free from her life with Tom, and in the end… she let Gatsby down. She broke his heart. And I keep thinking… what if I’m like Daisy? What if I can’t give Jey all of me? What if I let him down, just like she did?"

Tears welled up in Rhea’s eyes, but she blinked them back, trying to stay composed. "I love Jey. I love him so much it hurts, but… I feel like I’m betraying everything I ever stood for. All the sneaking around we did, the lies… I hate it. It made me feel like I wasn’t the person I thought I was."

Jon’s hand reached out, resting gently on her shoulder. "You’re not Daisy," he said firmly. "This isn’t some book. You’re doing the best you can with a difficult situation. You’re not betraying anyone by loving Jey."

Trinity nodded, her voice soft but full of support. "You’ve been through so much, Rhea and Jey? He’s not Gatsby—he’s not going to ask you to give up pieces of yourself. He loves you for you."

Rhea shook her head, emotions swirling in her chest. "But it’s not just about him. It’s about me, too. Every time we snuck around, it felt like I was betraying the values I’ve always held—loyalty, honesty… But I couldn’t stop. I couldn’t help it because I am in love with him. However, that doesn’t take away the guilt."

The tears that had been threatening finally spilled over, and Rhea wiped them away quickly. "I feel like I’ve let everyone down. The fans, the locker room, even myself. No matter how much I try to justify it, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m… broken."

The room was quiet, save for the soft sound of Rhea’s crying. Jon and Trinity didn’t rush to respond. They let her speak, let her pour out the raw truth that had been buried beneath the surface for so long.

After a moment, Trinity leaned forward, her voice steady and warm. "Rhea, you are not broken. You’re human and humans make mistakes. We do things we regret, and we deal with guilt. But that doesn’t define you. What matters is that you’re moving forward, and that you love Jey in the way that matters—the real, deep kind of love that doesn’t fade."

Jon nodded in agreement. "You and Jey? You’re not some tragic love story. You’re writing your own story, and it’s not over yet. You’re stronger than you think."

Rhea wiped her face again, her breathing starting to steady. For the first time in what felt like forever, she felt a little less alone. Jon and Trinity understood—they didn’t judge her, they didn’t see her as Daisy or Gatsby or Tom. They saw her as Rhea, their friend, who was trying to make sense of the mess she was in.

"You’re not going to let Jey down," Jon said gently. "Because you’ve already given him the most important thing—you."

Rhea nodded, feeling the weight on her chest start to ease just a little. She wasn’t sure where things would go from here, but maybe, just maybe, she could start to believe that she wasn’t doomed to live out a tragedy like the one in The Great Gatsby.

Maybe her story—hers and Jey’s—was still unfolding, and it didn’t have to end in heartbreak.

After their heartfelt conversation, Jon felt a surge of inspiration. "You know what? I still have my laptop in the car," he said suddenly, his eyes brightening. "How about we watch a movie together? It might be nice to unwind after everything."

Rhea and Trinity exchanged hopeful glances, their spirits lifting at the suggestion. "That sounds perfect!" Trinity replied, her enthusiasm breaking the heavy air that had settled around them.

As Jon stepped out to retrieve his laptop, he felt a sense of urgency. He needed to talk to Jey about the birthday party he was planning for Rhea. This was a critical moment; he had to make sure that whatever celebration was in store wouldn’t inadvertently remind Rhea of her current struggles. He dialed Jey’s number, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor.

“Hey, what’s up?” Jey answered, his tone warm but laced with an underlying tension.

"Listen, man," Jon started, taking a breath to steady himself. "I was thinking about the birthday party for Rhea."

“Yeah? What about it?” Jey sounded curious but slightly distracted.

“I think you should rethink the theme. The Great Gatsby might not be the best choice right now,” Jon said, his voice steady but urgent.

There was a pause on the other end. Jon could almost hear Jey’s gears turning. “Why’s that?” he finally asked.

Jon knew he had to be candid. “Rhea’s been watching that movie on repeat. It’s an emotional story for her, and with everything going on, celebrating her birthday with that theme could stir up feelings she’s still processing.”

A moment of silence lingered, and Jon could hear the faint sounds of the venue around Jey. He imagined his friend standing there, a mix of surprise and contemplation washing over him. “I thought something was off when she started watching it so much,” Jey admitted, his tone softening. "Damian, the Great Gatsby is off.."

Suddenly, Jon heard Damian's voice in the background, animatedly arguing in rapid Spanish. “What’s he saying?” he asked, unable to suppress his curiosity.

“Damian, ENGLISH AGAIN!” Jey snapped, a hint of amusement breaking through his frustration.

Jon chuckled, picturing the chaos unfolding on the other side of the line. “Sounds like a classic Damian moment. Always trying to keep things spicy.”

“I’ll find a different theme,” Jey said, sounding resolute. “Thanks for the heads-up, Jon. I appreciate it.”

“Of course, man. Just looking out for her,” Jon replied, feeling a wave of relief wash over him. Changing the theme would be a significant step toward creating a celebration filled with joy rather than reminders of heartache.

After ending the call, Jon returned to the living room, where Rhea and Trinity were waiting expectantly. He settled onto the couch, opening his laptop and searching for something lighthearted to watch. The weight of their earlier conversation lingered in the air, but the anticipation of a fun movie night began to lift their spirits.

Rhea, still processing her feelings, snuggled up beside Trinity, who threw an arm around her in a comforting embrace. "You know, we could go for something funny," Jon suggested, scrolling through options. "How about a classic comedy? Something to make us laugh."

"That sounds perfect," Rhea replied, her voice a touch lighter. "I could use a good laugh."

The camaraderie of Rhea's family was a balm for her weary heart. While shadows of her situation still loomed large, moments like these reminded her that she wasn’t alone. She felt grateful for Jon and Trinity, their unwavering support providing her with a sense of stability amidst the chaos.

As the movie played, Rhea found herself laughing along with Jon and Trinity. The shared joy, the lighthearted jokes, and the easy banter made her momentarily forget the heaviness she had been carrying. Each laugh was like a small victory, a reminder that even in the midst of turmoil, happiness could still find its way through.

Yet, deep down, Rhea grappled with her emotions. The thoughts of Jey, the affair, and the impending changes weighed heavily on her. She knew their love was real, but the fear of hurting him, of being the Daisy to his Gatsby, was overwhelming. She silently wished for clarity, for strength, to navigate the storm that lay ahead.

As laughter echoed in the room, Rhea felt a sense of warmth envelop her. She glanced at her family, their faces lit with joy, and for the first time in days, she allowed herself to believe that perhaps, just perhaps, she could find a way forward—one day, one moment at a time.

-

Jey sat on the edge of the hotel bed, running his hand through his hair in frustration as Damian paced the room, tossing out random ideas for Rhea’s birthday theme. "What about a ‘90s retro vibe?” Damian suggested, to which Jey shook his head.

"Nah, man. She’s not into that." Jey sighed. Ever since Jon had warned them not to go with the Great Gatsby theme, they had been stuck, unable to agree on a new direction for Rhea’s 28th birthday.

They were still deep in discussion when Damian’s phone buzzed. He checked it and grinned. “Kayden wants to hit up a club tonight.”

Jey looked up, feeling a mix of hesitation and exhaustion. "A club? I don’t know, man. You know I’m not really feeling all that right now."

Damian, always the persuasive one, nudged him. "Come on, bro. You need a break. All we’ve been doing is planning and stressing. It’s just one night. You need to chill."

Jey paused, thinking about how much backlash he and Rhea had faced since their relationship became public. He had been trying to lay low ever since, avoiding the spotlight outside the ring. “I don’t know, D. What if we run into trouble?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “No one’s gonna bother us, man. We’ll keep it lowkey. Just a couple of drinks, good music, and we’re out. I swear.”

After a few moments, Jey gave in, deciding to put Rhea’s birthday plans on hold for the night. “Alright, fine. But I’m holding you to that lowkey promise.”

Both guys got dressed—Jey pulling on a black hoodie and Damian in his usual all-black outfit with his signature leather jacket. They met Kayden in the hotel lobby, and she greeted Damian with a huge smile, throwing her arms around him. “You guys ready?”

Jey stayed quiet, still unsure about the whole idea, but followed them as they climbed into an Uber and made their way to the club. When they arrived, there was a long line out the door, and Jey’s nerves flared up again. But as they exited the car, the bouncer spotted Damian and grinned, pointing at his Damian Priest shirt.

“Ayo, Priest! Come on in, man, WEPA!” the bouncer said, pulling the velvet rope to let them inside. Jey shot Damian a look.

Damian just shrugged. “What can I say? Lowkey, right?”

Inside, the music was loud, the crowd packed and buzzing with energy. The lights flashed in every direction, and Jey instantly regretted agreeing to come. He slouched a little, trying to disappear into his hoodie, but Damian was already calling over a waitress.

“Three Coronas, three shots of Patrón with lime,” Damian ordered, handing her his credit card.

Jey blinked at him, confused. “What the fuck happened to lowkey?”

Damian just grinned. “This is how I do lowkey.”

Jey reluctantly took the first shot, feeling the heat of the Patrón hit him instantly. The lime did little to help. A few shots later, the hesitation he had felt all night started to fade. He found himself grinning, laughing at Kayden and Damian’s drunken jokes, the trio on the verge of tipping over in the booth. The stress of the last few weeks seemed to lift, if only temporarily.

Jey then had an idea. Not his best one. “Yo, should I ask the DJ to play my theme song?”

Kayden snorted with laughter, and Damian, clearly just as buzzed, grinned wide. “I bet you 200 bucks you won’t do it.”

Fueled by the alcohol and Damian’s dare, Jey downed another shot of Patrón and staggered toward the DJ booth. The security guard standing nearby recognized him and smiled.

“Jey Uso, right? Big fan, man.”

Jey smirked, the alcohol making him bolder. “I bet you won’t play my theme music.”

The DJ, clearly up for the challenge, grabbed the mic and hyped up the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, we’ve got the honor of hosting WWE’s newest Intercontinental Champion, Jey Uso!”

The crowd erupted into cheers, and Jey felt a surge of adrenaline as the DJ blasted his theme song. His heart pounded with the bass, the crowd's energy sweeping him up.

Then, in another questionable decision, Jey grabbed the mic and started shouting, “YEET! YEET!” The crowd caught on quickly, chanting along with him.

In that moment, Jey was completely in his element, lost in the noise and the chants. The worries and backlash melted away as the crowd responded with deafening YEETs, each one louder than the last. But deep down, as the music blared and the shots continued to burn through him, Jey couldn’t shake the feeling that this was going to come back to bite him.

After Jey led the crowd in a rowdy YEET chant, he tipped the DJ generously and leaned in, asking, “Yo, can you play some early 2000s hip-hop?” The DJ nodded, and Jey smiled, stumbling slightly as he made his way back to the booth, still riding the high of the crowd's energy.

But before he could get there, he felt someone grab his hand. Turning around, he was met with a mischievous grin from a random woman who had made her way toward him. “Hey, you wanna party in the bathroom?” she asked, her eyes flashing with something Jey wasn’t entirely comfortable with. He was still processing what was happening when suddenly, Kayden stepped between them, glaring at the woman.

“He’s not interested. Jey’s with us,” Kayden snapped, her voice firm.

The woman’s smile faded, and she gave Jey a smug look. “We all know you cheat,” she said, her words dripping with venom. Jey’s heart skipped a beat. For a split second, the alcohol’s haze lifted, and reality came crashing back. All the backlash, the judgment, and the scrutiny he and Rhea had been facing since their relationship became public hit him like a punch in the gut.

Kayden grabbed his hand, pulling him away from the woman before things could escalate. “Come on, let’s get out of here,” she said, her voice low but urgent.

Jey didn’t argue. Kayden led him back to Damian, who was still laughing, completely oblivious to what had just happened. “We need to go,” she told him quickly, not waiting for Damian to ask why.

The three of them pushed through the packed club, weaving between groups of people, the flashing lights and pounding music making Jey’s head spin. Just as they reached the exit, they were greeted by the one thing Jey didn’t want to deal with: paparazzi.

Cameras flashed in their faces, blinding him. Jey tried to block the flashes with his arm, frustration bubbling up as the photographers shouted his name, asking intrusive questions. "Jey! Over here! Is Rhea with you tonight? What's going on with the relationship?"

The alcohol made everything worse, clouding his judgment and making his annoyance flare. Kayden, seeing the situation spiraling, acted fast. She spotted a line of taxis nearby and grabbed both Jey and Damian by the hands, tugging them toward a free cab.

“Royal Sonesta, please!” Kayden called out to the driver as they climbed inside. The taxi sped off just as the paparazzi gathered around, trying to snap more photos, but the car pulled away too quickly for them to follow.

Inside the taxi, Jey leaned back, rubbing his face. “Man, I knew this was a bad idea.”

Kayden, still holding Damian’s hand, looked over at him. “Yeah, you’re right. But we’re out now. Let’s just get back to the hotel and call it a night.”

Damian, still buzzed but sensing the shift in energy, nodded in agreement. “Lowkey, right?” he said, giving Jey a half-smile.

Jey didn’t laugh this time. He just stared out the window, feeling the weight of the night—and his choices—settle heavily on his shoulders.

The taxi finally pulled up to the Royal Sonesta, and the three of them stumbled out, struggling to walk straight. Jey felt like his mind was clearer now, but his body was still betraying him, the alcohol lingering in his system. “I may be alert now, but my body is still messed up,” he muttered, trying to laugh it off, but the words slurred as they left his mouth.

Damian stretched, still riding the buzz. “I’m gonna spend the night with Kayden,” he said, giving Jey a lazy grin before he and Kayden disappeared down the hallway toward their room.

Jey nodded, trying to focus on his own journey down the hall. He felt the room spin slightly as he walked, forcing him to grab onto the wall every few steps. “Come on, Uso… you got this,” he whispered to himself, determined to make it to his door without puking.

When he finally reached his room, he fumbled with his key card, barely managing to get it into the slot. The door clicked open, and Jey stumbled inside. That’s when everything started to go downhill.

His head started spinning, the room tilting and swaying like he was on a boat. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He bent down to take off his shoes, but the motion sent his body off balance. Before he could stop it, he pitched forward, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

Jey groaned, his mind too foggy to process the situation. The last thing he remembered before darkness took over was the sensation of his cheek pressed against the floor, and then he was out cold, knocked out by the weight of exhaustion and alcohol.

—

9:08 AM Thursday October 3rd.

Rhea groggily turned off her alarm without even glancing at her phone. She shuffled toward the bathroom, her body still half-asleep. As she washed her face, she reached for her toothbrush but paused when she realized she was out of toothpaste. With a frustrated sigh, she decided to head to Jon and Trinity’s room to borrow some.

Still rubbing her eyes, Rhea knocked lightly before stepping inside. She barely noticed how quickly both Jon and Trinity put away their phones as soon as she entered. Raising an eyebrow, she asked, "Hey, can I borrow some toothpaste?"

Trinity, looking alarmed, didn’t respond right away. She glanced at Jon, who just kept his head down, pretending to be busy with something else. Without saying a word, Trinity pointed toward the bathroom. Rhea now had the most curious and annoyed look on her face.

Rhea, now fully awake and sensing something was off, hesitated. "Okay... What’s going on?" she asked, looking between them.

Trinity sighed, exchanging another glance with Jon. After a brief pause, she reached over to her nightstand and handed Rhea her phone, a look of reluctance on her face. "You might want to see this," Trinity said softly.

Confused, Rhea took the phone and saw the screen filled with social media posts—pictures of Jey at the club the night before, stumbling out, surrounded by paparazzi, looking drunk and out of control. There were headlines, too, speculating about his behavior and dragging their relationship back into the spotlight.

Her stomach sank. “What the hell?” Rhea muttered, scrolling through the comments, each one harsher than the last. All the backlash she and Jey had fought was suddenly flaring up again even worse.

Trinity watched her carefully. “We didn’t want you to find out like this. Jon’s been trying to get ahold of Jey all morning, but he hasn’t answered.”

Rhea's hands tightened around the phone as she felt a wave of frustration, anger, and disappointment wash over her. "I can’t believe this..." she whispered, feeling her heart race as she tried to make sense of it all.

Rhea handed Trinity her phone back, her mind racing as she headed back to her room. She needed to check her own phone and see if Jey had reached out. As she opened her messages, she noticed a series of texts from him, sent late last night while she had been asleep. Her heart sank as she scrolled through them, each message progressively more incoherent and filled with typos.

9:38 PM

Hey Rhea, just wanna say goodnight. You’re the best. ❤️

10:08 PM

I’m out with Damian… we’re just chillin. You shoulda come!

11:49 PM

Dude, this place is crazy! I feel like a champ! U should be here!

12:12 Am

Can’t believe it…. I’m thaaaaa champ.! YEET! Where u at?!

1:48 AM

U should’ve come with me! Rhea plz! Everyone’s here and they know me. I miss u. Where’d u go? I love u!🤍

Her heart ached at the sight of the last message, the way his affection spilled out in a drunken haze mixed with desperation. Just then, her phone rang, and she glanced at the screen to see it was Paul calling. Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, she answered, “Hi, Paul.”

“Rhea, hey,” he said with a heavy sigh. “Have you been in touch with Jey?”

She hesitated for a moment before replying, “I received a goodnight text from him at 9:30, but that was it,” she lied, trying to keep her tone professional.

“Okay, I just wanted to check in. We’re getting a lot of press about his night out, and I need to know if he is okay…” Paul said, his voice filled with concern.

“I’ll try to reach him,” Rhea replied, her heart racing. After hanging up, she immediately attempted to call Jey, but it went straight to voicemail. Panic set in as she left a message, her voice shaky. “Jey, it’s Rhea. Please call me back. I need to know you’re okay. I’m worried about you.”

She ended the call, staring at her phone, unsure of what to do next. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her chest, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was going to change everything.

—

Damian woke up with a splitting headache, a throbbing reminder of the chaotic night before. He squinted against the sunlight streaming through the curtains, the brightness only amplifying his discomfort. In the corner of the room, Kayden was doing yoga, gracefully transitioning into the King Pigeon pose. She took a deep breath, her focus unwavering, and as she held the position, she glanced back at him.

“Good morning,” Damian mumbled, still rubbing his temples.

“Morning! You look rough,” Kayden replied with a teasing smile before taking another deep breath. “Jey, Press, Paul,” she added, her tone shifting slightly as she remembered the events of the night before.

Damian kissed her on the cheek, his mind racing. He quickly got dressed and left the room, making his way to his and Jey’s hotel room. When he opened the door, his heart dropped. Jey was passed out on the floor, tangled in his clothes, and it was clear he hadn’t made it to bed.

“Jey!” Damian exclaimed, rushing over and rolling him onto his back. He shook him vigorously, trying to rouse him from his slumber. Jey struggled to open his eyes, but when he finally managed to do so, he immediately shut them again, groaning.

“Come on, man! Wake up!” Damian shouted, panic creeping into his voice. He could see that Jey was disoriented, his expression blank as he tried to piece together where he was and what had happened.

“What... what time is it?” Jey mumbled, his words slurred and barely coherent.

“It’s late, dude! We have a situation,” Damian urged, looking at Jey with urgency. “Paul’s been trying to reach you. You’re all over the news! You can’t just sleep this off!”

Jey finally blinked a few times, slowly processing Damian's words. “What do you mean? What’s going on?” he asked, sitting up and rubbing his eyes, clearly still struggling to shake off the remnants of the night.

“Last night was a mess! You need to get up!” Damian said, feeling the pressure mounting as he watched Jey try to come to terms with reality. The gravity of the situation was beginning to dawn on Jey, and the look in his eyes shifted from confusion to concern as he realized he had to take responsibility for his actions.

“Fucking told you ‘lowkey’ would get us into trouble!” Jey yelled, his voice hoarse from the night’s escapades. But Damian ignored him, staring intently at his phone.

“We're going to be in big trouble,” Damian muttered, swiping through notifications. He turned the screen towards Jey, showing him the litany of missed calls and messages. Jey's heart sank as he processed the numbers: three missed calls from Paul, four messages from Rhea, seven missed calls from Rhea, and two voicemails.

Jey took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on him. His hands trembled slightly as he quickly grabbed his own phone, the screen lighting up with notifications. His heart raced as he saw the chaos unfold before him: seven missed calls from Jon, four missed calls from Trinity, four from Paul, and that’s when it hit him like a freight train—fifteen missed calls from Rhea, along with several voicemails.

“Oh no,” he muttered, his stomach dropping. “What the hell did I do last night?”

Damian ran a hand through his hair, clearly agitated. “We need to figure this out, like, now. Rhea’s worried sick, and you know how Paul can get. We can't just ignore this.”

Jey’s mind raced as he tried to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous night. “I didn’t mean to cause this mess,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I just wanted to have a good time for once. I didn’t think it would spiral like this.”

“Yeah, well, it did,” Damian replied sharply. “We need to face the music. Start by calling Paul back.”

Jey nodded, swallowing hard as he dialed Paul’s number. The phone rang, and with each tone, his anxiety grew. He could only hope he would pick up and that somehow, he could make this right before it went any further downhill.

After what felt like an eternity, Paul answered the phone after just two rings. His tone was clipped, and Jey braced himself for the inevitable lecture.

“Jey, listen to me. Just listen. I don’t want to hear excuses right now,” Paul began, his voice heavy with frustration. “I understand that the relationship being leaked has been eating at your mentality, but this? Getting completely fucked up at a club? That’s not how you handle things.”

Jey winced, guilt flooding through him. He opened his mouth to respond, but Paul cut him off again.

“Worse yet, you thought it was a good idea to go up to the DJ and ask him to play your theme song? What were you thinking?” Paul continued, his voice rising. “You’re representing WWE, and this behavior is unacceptable. You’re supposed to be a professional!”

“I didn’t mean to—” Jey began, but Paul was relentless.

“You didn’t mean to what? Make a spectacle of yourself? You didn’t think your actions could have repercussions? This isn’t just about you, Jey; it affects the entire roster and the company’s reputation!”

Jey felt his stomach churn as he absorbed the weight of Paul’s words. “I know, Paul. I messed up. I just... I wanted to get my mind off everything, you know? With the whole situation with Rhea—”

“Save it!” Paul snapped. “You’re dismissed for the remainder of the weekend. You’re lucky I’m not taking your title away from you right now. You’re also being fined five thousand dollars for this stunt.”

Jey’s heart sank. “Five thousand?”

“Yeah, five thousand,” Paul replied, his tone still icy. “Also have Damian call me. He’s going to have to deal with this too. You need to get it together and face the consequences of your actions.”

“Understood,” Jey muttered, feeling defeated.

“Good. We’ll talk later.” With that, Paul hung up.

As Jey ended the call, the weight of his choices crashed down on him. He looked over at Damian, who was watching him intently. “Well?” Damian asked, crossing his arms.

“Paul’s furious,” Jey admitted, running a hand through his hair. “He’s dismissing me for the weekend and fining me five grand. Said I’m lucky I’m keeping my title. He wants you to call him as well.”

“Damn, Jey,” Damian said, shaking his head. “We really stepped in it this time.”

“I know,” Jey replied, a sense of urgency flooding through him. “I need to fix this with Rhea before it gets any worse.”

“Then let’s go,” Damian said, determination in his eyes. “You’ve got to make it right.”

With a deep breath, Jey steeled himself for what lay ahead. He couldn’t let his mistakes define him; he needed to confront the fallout of his actions and salvage what was left of his relationship with Rhea.

Jey took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart as he dialed Rhea’s number. When she picked up, her voice was soft, almost fragile, and it sent a jolt of guilt through him.

“Jey?” she said, and he could hear the tension in her voice. Before he could explain himself, she interrupted him.

“Please, just come home,” Rhea pleaded, her words laced with urgency. “I’d rather talk to you in person. Just come home to me…”

Before he could respond, she hung up, leaving him with nothing but the dial tone. Jey’s heart sank, the weight of her words crashing down on him. He felt like he really fucked up this time.

“Fuck!” he yelled, frustration boiling over. He began throwing his clothes into his duffel bag, each item representing his anger and regret. He didn’t care how it looked; he just wanted to leave. He tossed in his toiletries with reckless abandon, not even bothering to organize them.

“Jey, wait!” Damian called, trying to intervene as he watched his friend spiral. “You need to calm down!”

But Jey was beyond listening. The feelings of letting Rhea down clawed at him, igniting a fire that he couldn’t extinguish. He zipped up his bag with a swift motion and stormed out of the hotel room, ignoring Damian’s attempts to calm him.

The hallway felt suffocating as Jey marched toward the elevator. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, the anger propelling him forward. Each step brought the weight of his mistakes into sharper focus, and he was determined to face Rhea and make things right, no matter what it took. The last thing he wanted was for her to feel alone or abandoned.

As he waited for the elevator, he replayed their conversation in his mind, his stomach twisting in knots. He had to show her that he cared, that he was there for her—even if it meant confronting his own demons along the way.

[livin4woso]

Silent until spoken too-(arsenal x adhd! Reader)

Summary- growing up reader has always been told that they talk too much or too loud so when transferring to a new team they decide to take a new approach dont speak unless spoken too. Yet it only takes the young aussie to break the readers doubts and the rest of the team follow in persuit.

It was a fresh start for you but this time you need to make a good impression. The words of your mother rang in your thoughts,'no one likes the loud girl' it was something as much as you tried to explain she never understood your talkative behaviour or uncontrollable volume when you speak.

It was when you were 18 that you were finally diagnosed with adhd it was like a weight lifted of your shoulders that you never knew you were carrying to begin with. Knowing this information gave you clarity of why you did certain things yet you still could never justify them and you let the words of ignorant others to swirl in your mind.

Don't be the loud annoying one. Instead, be the opposite. Be silent until spoken too.

The first day of training had arrived quickly and you sat and hyped yourself up in your car to get all of your pent up energy out as you couldn't get rid of it by talking someones ear off then you had to do it some other way. You made your way into the changing room to be introduced to all the sqaud, which was relatively quick and filled with hand shakes and a few hi's and normal chat.

Until you reached the young aussie midfielder, she was a little bit older than you as you were just freshly 20, and she was 22, but there was something different about her a welcoming energy. "Hi, im kyra, but you probably know that.. wait, unless you didnt sorry i shouldn't assume" the words tumble out her mouth at rapid pace yet too you it was the perfect speed. "Hi im y/n nice to meet you" you say back holding your hand out "also i do know that you're kyra so don't worry" you reply letting go of her hand before making your way to your cubby to put on your boots.

Training began, and the negative thoughts still swirled in your mind each time you began to get more talking, which caused you to shut down into silence again, giving people one or two word answers. Yet eachtime you were with kyra you forgot all those doubts and it was if she just knew how to make you talk.

As you walked into lunch the words speeding out your mouth as fast as they could and your conversation getting gradually louder without you realising until one of the older girls commented "y/n can you stop shouting please the person you're talking to is right next to you not a mile away" lia said not meaning any harm but it sends you spiraling that if one person thinks that then soon enough everyone else will "oh right yeah im sorry" you respond in barley over a whisper while toying with the braclet on your wrist.

"Erm im sorry I'll leave you be now you probably want to talk to your other friends" you say to kyra with a forced smile as your thoughts consume you "no its okay come sit with us im sure they would love you and i like listening to you its fun" she said grabbing your hand and dragging you to the table where lessi and vic sat so there wasn't much of a choice.

Dinner was great, and it felt like you could speak without worrying that you are talking too much. Then came something slightly worse there was a pre training meeting which was going to cover what you were doing for the next couple weeks and important dates. Its not that you hate meetings but trying to sit still for so long without irritating the person next to you was the challenge.

The meeting dragged. Well, for you, it did that one hour felt like a year and of course being new you were sat right at the front next to kim and leah so you had to be on your best behavior. It started off okay. You could focus when jonas was talking, then you heard the clock tick, and that was all you could focus on. Then, about 20 minutes in your legs started bouncing, but that wasn't enough, so you started playing the finger drums on your thigh until kim gave you a death stare from next to you. After 40 minutes you'd zoned out completely just staring at the board as you let your thoughts wander you knew you shouldn't have but you couldn't help that you either had the attention span of a goldfish or could only pay attention to one thing.

The meeting had ended, and that's when leah snapped you out of your trance by waving her hand over your face "oi y/n, were you even listening to what i was saying.. the meetings over, " she said."Oh right, yeah, my bad, sorry, I'll get ready to go home, " you said, staring up at her, but as you were about to leave the room, she stopped you.

"Look i dont know whats going on but next time you need to pay more attention you were distracted the whole time and it might just have been nerves becauses it your first day but next time just be more aware" she said in a serious tone yet it had a hint of politeness to it as she meant well. However, at this point, you knew you couldn't hide your adhd forever, and it would give you a reason for your behaviour. "Oh right im sorry erm its my adhd its just hard to pay attention in meetings when i dont have something to fidget with but next time I'll be more prepared" you say your voice laced with worry waiting for her response.

"Well, why didn't you just tell us in the beginning we would have been much more accommodating for you" she says smiling back. "Honestly im not sure its just hard to talk about" you say back.

Since that conversation with leah, life and arsenal had become so much easier, and unlike the words of others, being the loud girl isn't so bad after all. You can't be the annoying one when you accompany yourself in people who don't find you annoying.

[ma-yawntu]

for you, anything.

pairing: neteyam x female!omatikaya!reader

summary: you're mad at Neteyam for some reason and he's determined to find out why

word count: 2.2k

warnings: mentions of injury and blood, mentions of parent death (father), fluffy, angst (sort of)

now playing... first love/late spring by mitski

Neteyam’s wound was angry and red, his skin raw with jagged cuts. Your skilled hands made quick work of his injuries, cleaning the area with fresh water to avoid infection, but despite your delicacy with his wounds; something was wrong. Neteyam could tell you were angry with him from the way you kept your lips drawn together instead of playfully lecturing him like you normally did. His ears were flat against his head as you worked, your eyes refusing to look up into his despite his obvious desperation for you to give him something– anything.

Neteyam wasn’t sure why you were angry with him, sitting there wracking his brain for possible causes of your turmoil. He knew you worried for him when he attended raids with his father and brother, but you worried for everyone. Unfortunately, it was in your nature to worry. Neteyam thought it was an admirable trait but you saw it was more of a curse.

For you, it was different with Neteyam. The two of you had been close since you were children, being born mere months apart meant you hit almost every milestone together. As children, the two of you were competitive, always pushing harder and harder to be better than the other… of course it was friendly competition. As you grew up though, you found yourself caring more and more about Neteyam as more than a friend. Of course you would never tell him– he was the Olo’eyktan’s son! Future clan leader of the Omatikaya and your best friend. You were absolutely dreaming if you thought anything could ever happen between the two of you.

That logical reasoning didn’t deter your feelings though, the heart unfortunately wants what it wants. Instead of facing the reality of your situation, you buried yourself in work. Work always needed to be done around High Camp. The Sky People closed in more and more every week and their war strategies were only getting bolder. 

You worked closely with Kiri and a few other healers under Mo’at, learning to tend to the sick and injured which only seemed to increase tenfold after every war party’s return. You wanted to be out fighting like everyone else– like Neteyam. But Jake would never allow it after you lost your father during a raid; he made Jake promise to never let you out in the field and that’s how you ended up stuck at High Camp working as a healer instead of where you were meant to be. 

“You are upset,” Neteyam mumbles after almost half an hour of uninterrupted silence as you run a damp cloth over his cuts and grazes. 

“I am not upset,” your tone alone was a dead giveaway that you were kind of upset. Neteyam’s ears flatten against his hair and he curls his lips inward, electing to give you some more time before he starts prying again. 

Your shoulders relaxed as your gaze flickered to his face. Neteyam was usually pretty unreadable; a product of his upbringing you assumed. Neteyam took after his mother in almost every way and that woman was terrifying, so it made sense. But you were always able to see through it, you’d grown up learning his tells and habits, you were sure you could understand him better than yourself most of the time. 

He seemed hurt by your short attitude with him; you weren’t even sure why you were mad in the first place, maybe it was because you were stressed and unintentionally taking it out on Neteyam. Or maybe it was because he got himself injured again and almost gave you a heart attack when Lo’ak and Jake had to carry him bleeding into the healer’s kelku because he was too injured to walk himself. It was likely a culmination of both things. 

Mo’at had originally dealt with him since you, Kiri and the other healers were busy tending to the several other injured warriors. But Mo’at was quickly called away, her expertise needed elsewhere and you were left to clean and stitch Neteyam’s body back together with shaky nervous hands.

You scooped up a heaping of Kiri’s yalna bark salve, applying the waxy substance to the jagged cut you had sewn shut along Neteyam’s chest. He winced at the slight sting, his brows knitting together at the feeling he would never get used to.

“Sorry,” you mutter, spreading the salve along the cut. You weren’t sure if you were apologising for your temper or for putting him in pain– possibly both. Now seeing his face and listening to him wince made your heart hurt and now you felt bad for being sort of mean to him. “I’m… I am not mad at you.”

Neteyam’s gaze lifts to yours and you give him a flicker of your eyes before you’re back to ignoring him and dressing his wounds. Your fingers work diligently to dress the wound but your movements quickly cease when Neteyam’s much larger hand wraps around your thin wrist. You stop what you’re doing and your eyes flicker up to meet him, falling victim to his intense golden eyes.

“Then what is wrong?” His voice is quiet, as if speaking at a normal volume would somehow scare you. 

You avert your eyes, a sigh rippling from your chest before you look at him again, heart drumming in your chest. “I was worried, that is all.”

“You always worry,” he doesn’t believe your answer but he is always gentle in his prying. 

“Then there is nothing more to say,” you retort, twisting your wrist out of his grip to get back to your work. 

Neteyam lets out a defeated sigh, “you know that is not how I meant it,” he cautions.

You know you’re being slightly unreasonable right now. But he simply doesn’t understand what it is like for you to see him like that; to see his limp body be dragged off his ikran, to see him covered in bruises, dirt and dried blood. It’s a horrifying sight to see, especially when it is someone you love and cherish. Yes, you love your best friend; you’re aware of the predicament.

You know that it won’t go anywhere. Sure, you can fight, heal and hold your own but you are nothing exceptional. There are far more pretty and talented Omatikaya women who are basically falling at Neteyam’s feet. You don’t stand a chance, you’re fully aware of that and you’ve tried to make your peace with it.

You almost feel like you have no right to worry over him the way you do. He is not yours and you are not his. You are forced to put on a brave face whenever you’re left to heal his wounds and act like it doesn’t twist your heart seeing him in pain.

You dress Neteyam’s wound and quickly move to gather your materials, completely disinterested in continuing your conversation. Your days at High Camp are never ending and at this point you’re beyond exhausted knowing you still have to clean the kelku top to bottom before you can even think about leaving.

“You need rest, no strenuous exercise or movements for at least a week or you’ll split your stitches,” you sigh, organising your materials back into their original places around the kelku. 

Neteyam’s eyes follow your body as you move around, still unconvinced by your behaviour and determined to get to the bottom of it before he leaves you alone for the night. He hates seeing you upset, it hurts him when he can’t fix things for you but it hurts even more you might be upset with him. 

Neteyam groans and winces as he stands up, his hand coming to clutch his side. You spin on your heel and let out a noise of frustration, “Neteyam, I’m serious.” You’re at his side in a second, your hands clutching his shoulder and arm to help him sit back down; he’s much heavier and taller than he was when the two of you dragged each other around as kids, you notice.

You allow him to get comfortable before you attempt to leave his side only for him to grab your arm, forcing you to stop. You peek over your shoulder and he looks so upset and your heart twists at the mere sight. 

“Talk to me,” Neteyam mutters, his eyes wide and pleading. 

You frown and sigh, relaxing in his grasp and letting him just hold your forearm for a moment. Your eyes meet his and you just crack under the overwhelming presence that is Neteyam. You feel tears welling up in your eyes, your jaw aching painfully as you attempt to hold back the flood that swirls around inside you. 

“Don’t cry,” Neteyam coos, using his other hand to pull you closer and wipe your tears with the rough pad of his thumb.

You sniffle and wipe your wet face with the back of your hand, eyes averting upward to will the tears to sink back down where they belong. You don’t know why you’re crying. You’re worried, angry, tired, frustrated; everything one person under immense pressure can feel.

Neteyam waits for you to calm down, his chest aching watching you heave and sniffle, your tears betraying you as they slip down your cheeks faster than he can catch them. His hands are holding yours, his thumbs stroking over the backs of your hands to help ground you. And he just watches you, afraid to take his eyes off you as if you’ll disappear. 

“I’m fine,” your voice comes out slightly broken and Neteyam just frowns.

“You’re crying,” Neteyam retorts.

You avert your eyes again. “Seriously, Neteyam. I’m just tired.”

“Please, sevin–”

“I worry about you!” You say rather loudly. Neteyam’s mouth presses closed and all he can do is wait with bated breath for you to continue. You sigh, eyes still glassy with tears, “I do not worry about you in the same way I worry about everyone else, Neteyam… You have to know that.”

He has to know how you feel by now, surely he is not that dense– then again, you’ve known him for a long time and he can be very dense (a trait courtesy of his father you assume). 

His brows are knitted together in a mixture of both confusion and worry as he stares at you, attempting to decipher what it is you’re trying to tell him. Neteyam has always felt something for you, how could he not? But he was so sure the two of you had grown apart because of your equally strenuous responsibilities. 

“When I watch you leave,” you start, your voice slightly shaking. “I just… I never know if you’re going to come back.”

Neteyam sighs, his hand reaching out to hold the side of your face, “I will always come back.”

“My father didn’t, Neteyam,” you reply, eyes falling shut as you will yourself to stop crying, knowing how much seeing you upset hurts Neteyam. Neteyam falters at your words and sighs sadly, his larger hand holding your jaw gently. Your lip quivers as you open your mouth to speak, another tear slipping down your cheek, “I… I cannot lose someone else, ‘Teyam.”

Neteyam feels his chest tighten at the sight of your sadness. “Sevin…”

“I cannot lose someone else that I love,” you whisper, your thumb stroking the back of Neteyam’s wrist. Your gaze finally meets his and your eyes are glossed with tears as the stress and anxiety pours out of you right in front of him. 

Neteyam’s heart pounds in his chest, he knows you love him, you’re his best friend. But you’ve never said it with such sincerity before. You’ve always been special to him, the only person who seemed to understand who Neteyam was outside of being the Olo’eyktan’s son. He’s always loved you, how could he not? But it was in this moment that he realised how desperate he was to keep you. 

Neteyam’s thumb strokes along your cheekbone and you let out a soft breath, completely drowning in the golden hues of his kind eyes. And without thinking, your body surges forward, your eyes falling shut as you plant your lips firmly against his. 

Your hands find purchase on the nape of his neck as you force his much taller frame down to meet you halfway. Neteyam’s free hand lands on the lower section of your ribs, his body stiff at the sudden contact. But the kiss is over as soon as it starts and you pull away, your face flushing and eyes blowing wide as you realise your actions.

“Shit,” you curse. “I’m… Neteyam, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to–”

Neteyam is quick to shut you up when his hands reach out to cup your face and he kisses you again. His kiss is softer than yours, far more gentle than the awkward peck moments ago. He breathes hard against your lips between kisses, his body suddenly crippled with the urge to keep you close. 

Your smaller hand holds his cheek, careful to avoid the small cut along his cheekbone. You smile giddily against him and he pulls away to smile back at you, his thumb gently wiping away the last of your tears. 

“Now you really have to come back,” you whisper.

Neteyam smiles, “For you, anything.”

a/n: i know it's short but it's cute!!

[veryberryjelly]

hi!! can i request red wine w/ jake peralta based on “fresh out the slammer” by taylor swift? for the last few days all i can think of is like a friends to lovers thing with reader and jake after a bad breakup. thx!! 🩷

jake peralta x reader

lyrics ; ' Now, pretty baby, I'm running back home to you, Fresh out the slammer, I know who my first call will be to ' [ tw ; implied abusive relationship NOT JAKE ]

lowkey wanna do a part 2 to this, maybe a series. lmk if y'all would be into that

𝐍𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ✦ 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲 !

everyone had told you that he was bad news.

but you were too blinded by what you thought was love to listen.

but now as you stood outside his apartment building, tears and rain mingling on your cheeks, you could see they were right.

he had taken you apart, piece by piece until you didnt know who you were anymore.

stood on his front step you couldnt find it in yourself to head back to your apartment where your roommate would be waiting with open arms and an 'i told you' ready to drop.

your legs seemed to carry you in the opposite direction before you could think too much about where you were headed.

it felt like seconds before you were stood infront of the door of one of your friends.

the only person you were sure wouldn't judge you right now.

your knock echoes through the hallway and you hoped more than anything that he would still be awake.

the sight that greeted you when he opened the door made you think you had arrived just in time.

jake.

his hair was mussed slightly and he had ditched his usual jeans and a hoodie for pyjama pants and a t-shirt.

" hey, what're you doing here?" he questioned, his voice more curious than judging.

but you couldnt seem to get any words out.

" woah, hey, are you okay ?"

that broke the damn. tears cascaded down your cheeks and if it weren't for jake's strong arms wrapping around your torso you would've collapsed on the floor.

he didnt try to move you, letting you cry freely into his shoulder in the hallway.

it was only when your shoulders had stopped shaking that he lead you into his apartment, sitting down on the couch beside you.

he didnt pressure you to speak, he didnt push you to do anything, he just sat with you for a while before you felt okay enough to talk.

" i- i got into a fight with dylan..." you started, your voice wobbly and uneven.

you could feel jakes posture stiffen beside you, but you carried on anyway.

" i got into the hallway before he could do anything but i heard glass breaking on the other side " tears began to pour again at the memory of that horrible sound.

he had tried to throw something at you.

jake still sat quietly at your side, his gaze on you never wavering.

" i didnt know where else to go. i knew my roommate would throw it in my face and i didnt want to be there incase he showed up.."

that was what finally snapped it and he lifted his hand, sliding it into yours and squeezing lightly.

" you can stay here, as long as you need. "

his voice was like a comforting blanket over your shoulders that could solve anything. just giving you a place to stay meant the world. it meant you didnt have to go back to your flat and hear your roommate go on about how right she was.

it meant you had a safe place to rest your head.

" thank you, jake " you replied your arms winding around his torso as his did the same , pulling you against his chest.

you felt a kiss pressed to the top of your head and it felt as though it was thawing your heart.

" c'mon, i've got some clothes you can borrow for tonight and we can get some of your stuff tomorrow "

after a confirming nod of your head, jake lead you to his bedroom, offering out a t-shirt, a hoodie and some boxers.

when you emerged from the bathroom in his clothes, you found him pulling blankets and a pillow from under his bed.

" ok, so, you know where everything is, i'll wake you in the morning before i go to work. and i'll tell holt that you're taking a day because there is no way i am-"

" can you stay with me tonight ?" you cut him off. amongst all of this, you didnt want to be alone.

you would take tomorrow off and sort yourself out if he wanted, though you would prefer to go on as though nothing had happened.

but right now, you didnt want him to go. you didnt care if that meant you sleeping on the floor in his bedroom, though you knew jake well enough to know he wouldn't allow that.

it took him a minute where he froze on the spot before he answered

" yeah "

he pushed the blanket and pillow back under the bed and climbed under his comforter, pulling back the other side for you to climb under.

and you did so, lowering yourself down onto the bed and pulling the blankets back over you.

jake didnt move, not wanting to push you too far, but he was on the other side of the mattress, what felt like miles away.

so even in your vulnerable state, you made the journey across the cotton sheets and rested your head down on his shoulder.

when his arm wrapped around you, you knew you were secure.

jake always gave you a safe place to rest your head.

[ayabeanworks]

Title: Birthday Celebrations

Synopsis: You surprise Satoru with a little celebration on his birthday.

Character: Gojo Satoru x reader.

Series: Let's Meet in the Spring (SaShiSu x reader)

Notes: Teacher AU! Pure fluff, soft Gojo & celebrations. Some angst at the end.

The whole time, I was listening to Kim Sejeong's "If we do" & "Star blossom" because the vibe for this fic is literally based off that! Just the sweetness of them! 😸

The one thing you weren't sure about on Satoru's birthday was how you'd get out of bed without him clinging to you or waking up.

You pressed a finger to your lips as you sneaked Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara into your apartment, making sure they stayed quiet as they held the large cake box in their hands.

Megumi, carrying the box containing the fruit decorated mille crepe cake, headed straight into the kitchen to put it into the fridge for later, greeting Shoko and Suguru who'd been laying on the sofa scrolling through their phone and reading a book, respectively.

The table had a half filled medium sized card open, some colourful markers surrounding it, all the while a bouquet of fresh flowers of all kinds sat in a vase, lighting up your apartment with a hue of colours.

"All done?" You mouthed to your besties, writing in the air to imitate writing in the card.

Suguru shook his head, pointing to the three younger sorcerers who were busying themselves with setting up the extra plates to prep for the surprise, blowing balloons as quietly as possible and setting up everything else for the interior so it was more like a birthday celebration.

You gave him an 'ok' signal and urged each young sorcerer silently to write on the card first, while the teachers did the decorations in their stead.

It was Gojo Satoru's birthday today, and last night the other teachers and you had been eating and drinking together in your apartment, when Satoru decided to crash at yours for the night because he was familiar with the place and whined that he didn't want to go home.

Of course, you surrendered half of your bed to him, but beknownst to you, Suguru and Shoko also stayed over at the last minute, but took the sofa in the living room or the ground.

Normally Satoru didn't sleep much, but whenever he was at yours, he'd sleep for a longer period of time than normal, maybe even double the amount of time spent when he was at his own place. It was relaxing for him, and he would spend the night here and there to catch up on any sleep or if he just wanted to rest and not worry.

So, taking advantage of this opportunity, Shoko, Suguru and you decided to host a little birthday celebration to those who could make it, at your apartment. It was a small little thing for him to wake up to, so everyone woke up extra early (surprisingly not hungover), to assist with the preparations before Satoru woke up around 8am (for some reason he was incredibly prompt with his waking up at 8am when he slept at your place. No idea why, it just happened).

You knew he only slept an average of a few hours each night, but he always knocked out cold around 12am-1am whenever he was at yours. So he was already asleep by the time you cleaned up your apartment and prepared yourself for bed.

Needless to say, it was heartwarming to see the strongest so vulnerable in your safe space.

And it was even better when realising he chose this as his safe space to be vulnerable in because you were there. He'd say it as a joke but he's absolutely obsessed and 100% serious. And by extension, Suguru and Shoko, who would come over on frequent occasions.

"We're done with the card!" Yuuji whispered to Suguru. The taller male gave him a smile and took the card, starting to decorate it with cute little pictures he learned in secret for this day (he did it secretly at yours), and passing it to Shoko, who shoved it into the bouquet of flowers.

"Fushiguro, pass me the party hats." Kugisaki pointed to the party hats as she whispered. She'd prepped the streamers by throwing them around the place, and even created a cute little area for tea so everyone can have cake and tea together.

Wordlessly, the spiky haired male gave them to her, taking one for himself begrudgingly to wear later since he knew Gojo would annoy him to do so.

"I'm going to check on Satoru." You pointed to the direction of your bedroom, notifying the others to keep quiet as they continued their preparations.

Giving you the thumbs up, you quietly crept back into your room, double checking the time to make sure it wasn't 8am yet. It was probably around 7.30am, but since you were out of bed and Satoru liked to hug something while asleep (sometimes that being you), you wondered if that ever affected his sleep pattern.

You opened the door, looking into the darkness that was your room. The blind let only light streams of light filter through, barely illuminating it enough for you to see Satoru's silhouette in your bed.

A smile graced your lips as you closed the door behind you, sauntering over to your side of the bed, leaning down to examine his features as he slept.

He looked so calm, so relaxed and oh so pretty without his blindfold on. His white lashes touched by the barely there light source were so long and so fluffy you were tempted to touch them and see if they were real. Lips so glossy it pissed you off that you wanted to kiss them have them for yourself, and skin so smooth and soft it made you jealous because he never did anything to it.

Was this man any more perfect?

How dare he.

You gently placed your hand on top of his fluffy white locks, lightly petting his head affectionately like you would do a resting cat.

After the first couple of ones, he stirred, groaning lightly as he rolled towards you, hugging onto the doona for warmth. His eyes barely fluttered open when you continued your ministrations, but closed right away because he knew it was you. He let out a pleased hum and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, making you smile as you finally sat down on the bed.

You continued to thread your fingers through his hair, humming a light tune as he leaned into your touch, falling asleep again from the calmness of it all.

"Happy birthday, Satoru." You leaned down and pressed a light kiss on top of his head, smoothing over the area with your hand afterwards. "My favourite blue eyed giant with long legs."

"At least call me handsome on my birthday..." He mumbled, one eye half opening to look at you in the dark.

He couldn't tell if what he saw was an angel or not - with the light slowly rising in intensity, but still keeping its softness, one side of you was illuminated with that soft light, the light colours making it look dreamier and hazier than usual.

His breath hitched.

You were breathtaking.

"Sure, Mr handsome Satoru." The sound of his name leaving your lips was wonderful, and he hoped to hear it everyday to awaken him from his slumber.

Satoru only grinned, lazily flipping onto his side to face you, a heavy arm draping over your mid section as he cuddled up to you.

You only laughed at his actions, he was so clingy. But you didn't mind it, since it was a different type of clingy to what he usually was.

This type was more endearing, though you welcomed both.

You stayed in bed for a while with him, absentmindedly continuing your ministrations on his hair as he fell in and out of sleep. It wasn't until around 8am where he actually felt the need to wake up properly, stretching his long limbs over the bed as he got ready for his day.

"C'mon, let's get up." You gently patted his stomach as he laid on his back like a starfish. He tensed and sat up right away, swinging his legs over to where you were and giving you a back hug as he clung to you like a koala.

"Don't wanna." He buried his face into the back of your neck, breathing in your scent as he tried to get his daily dose of you.

You sighed, patting at his arm as you tried to get up. "Satoru..."

The slight whine in your voice made Satoru perk up as he let you go. He wanted to continue, but he didn't want to get headbutted like he did last time when the exact same thing happened.

"Ok, ok, I'm getting up." He sighed and slid off the bed, preparing himself in your connected bathroom by using all your products.

You went outside the room as he got ready, giving nods to the anticipating audience.

As Gojo opened the door to the living room, his brows raised and an 'o' formed on his lips.

"Happy Birthday!"

A chorus of happy celebrations echoed in the early morning, making Satoru completely stunned at the actions. He grinned ear to ear as he was handed the bouquet of flowers from Yuji, and everyone singing the birthday song for him.

Even though Satoru knew that everyone was there even when he was asleep, he was pleased nonetheless with the celebration. He had an inkling this wasn't the only little surprise, and later in the day the others would do the same once he started work.

It warmed his heart as he thanked everyone in an overly exaggerated manner, giving everyone a big hug or pat on the head.

He smooshed his cheek next to yours, nuzzling you like he would a pet cat, making the others laugh and tell you both to get a room.

As he got presented with the mille crepe cake he swear he could smell even in his sleep, the candle on it was somehow oddly shaped like him that he wondered if it was custom made. He made a wish he could only guard close to his heart, blowing out the candles and sharing the cake around.

This is nice, he found himself thinking. The atmosphere was so bright, it nearly blinded him. It felt surreal, almost like he was dreaming, one where he could wake up from any moment, transporting him back to a time where the world wasn't as bright.

If he didn't have what he has now, what would his life be like? Would he be the same? Being bathed in such warmth made him want to stay forever. He didn't want this to end, nor did he want to imagine a world without the people he cherished the most.

Satoru popped a piece of the crepe cake into his mouth, admiring the smiles of everyone, burning their lively images into his mind.

He hoped everyone would continue to keep their shine and warmth, especially you, who shone the brightest.

Let's stay like this a little longer.

[henrioo]

✦ ── ANYTHING FOR YOU: SHANKS

Part one — Parte two

Child! Shanks x Child! Reader ( x platonic! Edward Newgate)

Synopsis: "A confusing encounter with a red-haired child ends up changing his day completely."

Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,6k

Notes: Pronouns should be neutral but because of automatic translation they are masculine, I'm sorry, it was written with a neutral reader in mind. Forgive the bad English too, Google is not one of the best

Revision: @waitingmydemons

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Today would definitely be your day! After weeks of trying to convince your brothers and especially your father, you had managed to get permission to take a tour all alone around the next island the ship stopped. It might seem silly, but living surrounded by men who saw danger in everything made your freedom being compared to one of a bird in a cage. Of course, you were more than grateful for all the effort they put into protecting you, but sometimes you just wanted to run around and play with other kids instead of being followed by famous pirates who scared anyone who came near.

That's why you couldn't hold back the anxiety of finally being able to live a little adventure completely alone! You've prepared very well, choosing fresh clothes that won't get in the way of playing or running, took a purse with a generous amount of money that you collected according to the days and choose the best and most resistant shoes! Everything was perfect, you couldn't even swallow your food during lunch. You were so busy, as soon as the meal was over, you said goodbye to everyone and ran towards the port, excited to explore the place.

Even if walking around and spending money on silly things wasn't exactly the most fun thing in the world, just being able to experience all those new things by yourself and maybe even make a few friends was enough to get you excited. There weren't many young people in Whitebeard's crew, you ended up being the only child and the youngest member which left you a bit alone. Of course no one refused to play with you, Marco and Thatch would spend hours distracting you if that made you happy, the point was that they were adults and eventually needed to take care of their responsibilities, leaving you alone.

Your plan was to buy some candy and maybe find some kids your age to play with, you couldn't wait to get some attention from people who would also like to play. You walked carefree through the big city market, there were countless merchants, mothers, workers, all walking around in their own worlds and duties. You'd eventually stop and look at the fruit, jewelry, or anything else that looked like fun, but you weren't focused on shopping. You were humming absently around, not really caring about your surroundings when you started to hear footsteps approaching.

When you turned around to try to figure out what was going on it was too late, a person collided directly with you but before he could knock you to the ground, he pulled you by the arm away from the main road. You were dragged into an alley and soon a hand covered your mouth, when you regained your senses you could hear more and more footsteps approaching, a crowd running! You frowned in confusion as you listened to what people were saying. "Are you sure you lost them?" You tried to peek down the alley and you could guess they were sailors by their blue and white outfit. "Shit, those little brats! I can't believe they robbed us…" they argued among themselves "Let's keep looking, they can't have gone far".

So when the men walked away you decided to pay attention to the situation you were in. You looked to see who your captors were and came across two… children? The boy holding you had blue hair and a huge red nose, he was holding your mouth while his face had a terrified expression. Next to him was a boy with red hair and a nice hat, he was carrying what looked like a bag of coins and he also looked extremely nervous about being chased. Whoever they were, you knew they'd robbed the sailors, but that didn't mean they weren't a risk to you.

When you were sure the sailors were gone you used all your strength to step on the boy's foot and then bite his hand. You might be small but you weren't harmless, growing up with powerful pirates had taught you a trick or two.

"Ouch! You bit me!" The boy screamed as he held his own hand.

The redhead finally seemed to notice that they'd dragged someone else into the mess and looked at you confused.

"You kidnapped me!" You countered by crossing your arms.

"You kidnapped them?!" The redhead exclaimed looking at his friend in shock.

"They were in the way!" The other tried to defend himself "And you bit me! I was about to let you go!" He was still angry but you didn't care.

"Think before you kidnap me! You're lucky I only bit you, if I told my brothers they would do a lot worse!" You exclaimed proudly of your family.

"Sure, like I'm going to believe a snotty brat" the blue haired one rolled his eyes.

"You called me what?!" You exclaimed with fury as your cheeks burned.

"Snotty brat" he said again with a smirk, looking satisfied with having turned the tables.

The problem was that the boy had underestimated you, one thing you definitely lacked was patience. You learned very early that you shouldn't tolerate offenses against yourself or your family, so you let anger win that fight. You quickly punched the blue-haired boy in the middle of the face, the one who fell on his butt with a scream.

"Buggy!" The red-haired friend screamed and went to help him.

"I'm not snotty!" You said stomping your foot on the floor.

The red-haired boy looked between you and the companion, his gaze showing shock and… fascination? He looked at you like you were a bedtime story hero, someone amazing and you couldn't understand. Shouldn't he be angry? You had just hit his colleague and he seemed fascinated by it?

"Wow…" he exclaimed looking you up and down.

"Humpf! Idiot" you said without patience and then you turned to leave the alley "You're lucky I won't tell my brothers, Marco would finish you off" you said and then left the place ignoring the red haired boy who kept calling you .

You were nervous and frustrated that visit to the city had not gone as you planned, so you decided to go back to the ship earlier. Luckily you would stay a few days in that place, there would be other opportunities to explore and meet kind and fun children, no more children who irritated you. It wasn't long after returning to shore that the crew set up a small camp to store the new supplies while the ship was refueled. There, you found Marco fiddling with some papers and further away you could see his father giving orders to some other members.

You sat with a sulky face while eating a candy you bought in town, Marco looked at you curiously and approached with a characteristic smile.

"What's wrong birdie-yoi?" He smiled and sat down next to you.

"I… I met some annoying kids" you decided it was better to omit what had happened, as much as you wanted revenge, you understood that the confusion had been a misunderstanding and you didn't want your siblings worrying about something so silly.

"Wasn't that fun?" He nodded when he saw you deny it. "Don't worry, you can still meet other kids in the next few days" he smiled trying to calm you down "And if nobody wants to play with you, let's get Visa and Jozu and have a tea party, how about that?" He offered, knowing you were always happiest spending time with your brothers.

"Promise?" You looked at him sullenly.

"On my honor" he smiled as he saw you clearly getting more excited about the idea.

After a little chat, Marco had to get back to work and you decided not to bother him anymore. So to distract yourself until dinner time you decided to walk along the nearby beach and look for some shells to collect, you were still thinking about the boys from before, especially the redhead. He was looking at you with so much emotion that you couldn't help but feel your stomach churning, no one had ever looked at you like that… It was so weird and it made you so confused, what was that? Some noises in the nearby forest caught your attention, being curious that you were, so it didn't take long to approach and look for who was there.

"It 's you!" You said in recognition of seeing the red hair from before.

"Shhhh!" He asked for silence and you covered your mouth, looking around for any threat "Are your brothers here?" he asked quietly.

"They're over there…" you pointed into the distance and he seemed to agree silently "What are you doing here?"

"I wanted to talk to you again" he admitted looking at the floor, his cheeks were slightly pink and you felt your body getting warm.

"Why?" You asked timidly.

"Because your punch was super cool!" His eyes sparkled "You hit Buggy right on!"

"Is he not your friend?" You asked confused.

"He is… But you were just defending yourself! He shouldn't have called you snotty… You're not snotty, you're too cute to be!" He confidently admitted.

"Do you think I'm cute?" Your cheeks were now on fire.

"I do…" he smiled shyly "I'm Shanks, what's your name?" He approached.

"(Y/n)" you smiled.

"Cool, I didn't know Whitebeard had someone in the crew with my age"

"How do you know I’m in the Whitebeard’s crew?”

"You said you had a brother named Marco, I know him! And my captain said Whitebeard was in town, so that had to be it," he said with pride in his little investigation.

"Your captain? Are you a pirate too?" You were curious now.

"Yes! I'm from the Roger Pirates!" he exclaimed with pride.

That's when your face became sad... You had heard about this crew countless times, all your life you grew up hearing that they were your father's main enemies and that you could not, under any circumstances, approach them.

"I shouldn't be talking to you!" You finally realized and tried to run, but Shanks was quick and grabbed you.

"Wait! Please! I don't want to hurt you!" He begged as he held her wrist gently but firmly.

"How can I trust you? You kidnapped me this morning! And we are sworn enemies!" You snorted.

"But I don't want to be your enemy…"

"You don't?" You let your emotions get the best of you.

"No… I… I want to be your boyfriend!" He declared with fire in his eyes.

"Boyfriend!?" You stuttered in shock, your face was hot and probably red, your eyes were wide in shock.

"Yes! You're super strong and cute!" He said without a care and then let go of your hand "Unless you didn't like me…"

"No! I did like you…!" You admitted with embarrassment "But… I never had a boyfriend… What do they do?"

"They… They" he stammered in embarrassment "They hold hands… Kiss on the cheek and go on dates!" He said with embarrassment.

"Oh!" You exclaimed with as much embarrassment as he was. You thought about holding Shanks hands and your stomach started to turn, it would also be really cool to be able to play with him.

"It's cool, isn't it? We can be sweethearts!" He tried to convince you.

"(Y/n)?! Where are you? It's getting dark and we should go back to the ship" You heard your father's voice approaching.

"Shanks?! Where are you?!" Another unknown voice came from the middle of the forest.

Before you could run away the fearsome encounter took place, behind you was your father and behind Shanks must have been the much talked about Roger, his captain. You both widened your eyes in terror when you realized what was happening, but you didn't dare open your mouth to try to explain.

"Roger"

"Newgate"

"Can you explain why your brat is talking to my child?" He quickly put a hand on your shoulder and pulled you back.

"Good question, what's up Shanks? Did you come here to talk to the old man?" The captain chuckled, he didn't seem to be mad at Shanks at all.

"I… Well…" the boy mumbled incoherently with embarrassment.

"Did he do something to you?" Your father asked, looking at you calmly, he didn't seem mad at you at all, which calmed you down a bit.

"No…" you mumbled shyly and grabbed his leg.

"Hm, maybe they just met and had a chat" Roger theorized "Or are they secretly flirting, huh Shanks? You naughty, came for the riskiest one" the man teased.

"Don't talk nonsense Roger, (y/n) can't date you, brat" His father said as if that was nonsense.

"I can't?" You asked with some sadness in your voice.

"They can’t?" It was Shanks's turn to look sadly at his captain.

The two men stared at each other in shock, they seemed to slowly understand what was going on between the two of you.

"Don't tell me… Did you like this piece of junk?" your father asked in shock and nervousness.

"Hey! No need to offend other people's children!" Roger defended "Shanks isn't that bad… He's just… He" the man shrugged.

"Like you understand" Edward rolled his eyes.

"Come on, we were young once!" Roger laughed "Let the kids date and have some fun, nothing bad will come of it"

"No" Edward gave the final verdict, but when he felt you pulling his pants and making your huge lost puppy eyes with tears threatening to fall he started to rethink the idea "(y/n)..."

"Please?" You asked "I promise I'll help more often in the kitchen if you let me..." you tried to bargain, you liked Shanks, you didn't want to be banned from dating him, even if you didn't know exactly what boyfriends did.

"Heavens… Who knew having kids would be like this…" He sighed tiredly "You guys can date" Shanks smiled "With some conditions!"

"Conditions? That's not fair!" He huffed angrily.

"Calm down little one, he's the father, he has the right to decide that, you have to earn trust and permission" Roger said quickly, Shanks seemed more resigned.

"First you need to grow up a bit, I can step on you now and I won't let such a small and young brat date my child!" he said quickly.

"Uhum!" The redhead's eyes sparkled.

"Second, you need to be strong! I will not tolerate a weakling having my child as a partner, you need to be able to face me without fear to have their hand"

"Yes! I'm going to be really strong!" He smiled looking at you and you looked away shyly.

"And finally, when you have those two things, the most important one" Shanks listened attentively "You need their acceptance" your father put his hand on your head "If you have both requirements and my child still loves you then I won't be the one going to stop you" he chuckled.

You smiled happily as you looked at Shanks who also looked confident.

"You'll see old man! I'm going to marry them!" He proclaimed with pride.

Roger just laughed praising his apprentice while your father looked frustrated and stroked your hair. You smiled thinking about how cool it would be to have Shanks as your boyfriend, you really didn't see the time to be able to be with him.

Continue...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ• ────── ✦ ────── •

Notes: I hope you enjoyed! There will be a part two showing what happened to them as adults, if you can leave what you think it will motivate me a lot because I'm new here! If you want to ask for something feel free! I'll make the best imagines I can, thanks for the support and see you soon

[strawberrystepmom]

izuku x f!reader. enemies to lovers au, suggestive but not outright smutty. more about these two can be found here, this idea was workshopped and is co-brainchild of @izvmimi <3333 | wc 1.2k

You roll your shoulders back and smack your lips together, presenting that glowing smile to a crowd of voracious cameras. Izuku shifts uncomfortably in his seat, all too aware of the way you keep glancing at him out of the corner of your eye no matter the distance between you. 

“Our organization, Victims of Hero Sanctioned Violence, thanks you all for your time this evening. With your contributions and willingness to report the truth, we will someday truly have that brighter future we have been promised for all of these years.”

The crowd erupts and Deku rolls his eyes, resting his cheek against his raised fist. There’s no need for over the top formality, you sat him at a table with hecklers who have long since abandoned him to go and spend their evening at the front egging you on. His tie is loosened and his shirt is unbuttoned, messy green waves drooping now that the gel he slicked them back with has started to lose its effectiveness.

You’re only here for her, he reminds himself. 

Whatever exists between the two of you is tentative and unnamed at best yet he’s nothing but a moth to your flame, floating frantically around the light you emanate with so little effort. Everyone in this room is obsessed with you, devouring every single thing that you say like animals drinking from a lake after a drought. 

He hates them. 

His fist flexes against his face and he shifts his posture again, legs spread beneath the tablecloth. A petty part of him hopes that you see his unbotheredness through his positioning alone, clearly disinterested in hearing the latest stats regarding property damage and long term disabilities caused by pro heroes. It’s not his business. He has people who regularly deal with this sort of thing yet here he sits, reaching to further loosen his tie when he feels your dark eyes drift to him, your heels carrying you from the stage and through the crowd that attempts to stop and speak with you every few feet.

This is where he rises, pushing his chair out from the table in front of it, ready to act as a shield between you and these people who believe they’re entitled to access to you merely because they agree with your beliefs. Sauntering toward you, he positions himself between you and the crowd, and places a hand on your shoulder.

“Nice of you to finally do something to protect someone for once, Deku.” 

A member of the crowd spits and he turns his head, emerald eyes gleaming, ready to bite back. You lift your hand and wrap it around his forearm, squeezing once, silently begging him not to make a scene. Scoffing loudly enough that you can hear it, he raises a brow and keeps his gaze trained on the man who apparently has so much to say, watching him realize how outmatched he is in mere moments. The man bows his head and heads in the opposite direction of where the two of you are going, the hallway outside of the banquet room. 

“How can you let them talk to me like that?” He asks and you giggle, squeezing his arm. 

Your fingers don’t meet where they’re wrapped around it and heat rises in your face envisioning something else that your fingers don’t quite meet when they’re wrapped around, gaze dancing up Izuku’s body until they reach his face. Equal parts chiseled and boyish. Perfect. You hate even looking at him yet here you stand, sharing space and four of your five senses with him. 

The final sense, taste, will come later if the way you are looking at him has anything to do with it.

For now though, there is more important business to attend like the intense hunch of his shoulders and the line that is developing between his brows from all of this scowling. 

“They have the right to say what they’re thinking, Midoriya.” You finally speak now that you are released from the overheated hall, taking a deep breath of fresh cool air to calm your nerves and send that rising warmth in your body back to where it came from. “Being a pro hero doesn’t shield you from criticism, it only makes you less likely to hear it in the first place.” 

He chuckles and that heat you were attempting to will away returns in an instant, cheeks and chest and parts even lower aflame just at the sound of his voice. You shouldn’t even be humoring him, much less actively wanting him, silently scolding yourself to keep it professional despite his obvious attraction to you. He wouldn’t be here if he didn’t want you, the woman beneath the carefully crafted facade you keep up.

“Yeah but it’s not very nice, is it? I didn’t call that guy a loser to his face and I should have.”

Snorting, you shake your head and glance up at him, those doe-like eyes blinking so prettily all he can do is match you. Open, close, open, close. Perfectly synced like your breaths. Easy, just as he seems to have found the coat closet, pushing the door open and pulling you in behind him. 

“I can’t force them to be nice to you. Remember, you volunteered to be here to represent all pro heroes, not just yourself.”

Izuku spins you so that you face him, chest pressed against his torso, face barely coming chin level to his massive pectorals. Your eyes dip to the exposed skin at his collar and you bite your lower lip without thinking, his hands sliding over your hips and ass, gently squeezing and massaging the flesh beneath your silk dress.

“Okay but how are you going to make it up to me?”

You roll your eyes and look up at him, letting your arms rest near his belt, taking your time undoing the buckle.

“Why do I need to make it up to you? As I said, you’re here voluntarily.”

He shrugs, his own lower lip tucked between his teeth momentarily while he watches you work, slowly sinking to a squat position with your heeled feet pressed together. Manicured fingers pull the zipper of his tuxedo pants down, his already half hard cock pressing against your cheek while you rub your face against it.

“Would this make you feel better?” You ask, glancing up at him with those same pretty eyes he fell for the first time he ever saw them in person. He nods once, gaze remaining locked on your elegant movements while your fingers slip beneath the waistband of his boxers. The leaking tip of his cock springs free and you lean in to lick it tentatively, Izuku bracing himself against the row of luxury label coats behind him. 

For being an upstart, VOHSV sure has some wealthy donors. It’s a thought for another time though, his mind melting out of his ears while your tongue dances around the underside of the head of his dick, a whimper escaping him.

“Quiet or you get nothing,” you mumble around the salty taste of his skin. 

All he does is nod and purses his lips, pressing one large palm over the bottom half of his face.

[wannabeschyulersister]

happier

*based on the song happier by olivia rodrigo*

“Don’t look now, but Rooster brought a friend.” Phoenix said softly beside you. You didn’t bother turning to look. Your vision stayed out on the beautiful waves in front of you.

The crew was having a beach day and you had been excited about it for a few days now. The training that you all were going through for an upcoming mission had taken hostage of all of your lives for weeks.

You wanted to lay out, drink something fruity and spend time with the friends that had become like your family.

You hadn’t even thought about what you’d do if Rooster brought someone. You had to be around him all the time for training. You were able to be cordial when need be.

“Let me guess. She’s blonde, has blue eyes and legs that go on for days?”

“Well to be fair, she’s wearing sunglasses so I can’t see what color her eyes are. They’re coming over here.”

You planted a fake smile on your face as Rooster approached.

“Guys, meet Jaime. Jaime this is the group. I’ve told them all about you.” Rooster placed his arm around her shoulders and drew her closer to him.

“That’s funny. I haven’t heard a thing about her.” Phoenix mumbled next to you. You tried to hold in your laugh.

The group responded with hello’s but you stayed quiet. You didn’t even look at him.

The breakup was still fresh. You wouldn’t have even thought to start dating so soon. Part of it stung. Okay, it stung all of your heart to see that Rooster moved on so quickly. It felt like none of it really mattered to him.

Like you never mattered to him.

You were still trying to process losing Rooster not only as your boyfriend but also as your best friend. When you first got into the relationship, you were worried that something like that would happen. He assured you that it wouldn’t and you believed him.

The demise of your relationship with Rooster happened over a matter of weeks. You both were assigned to go on separate missions both happening around the same time. Training was absolutely grueling. You hardly got to see each other.

When you did manage to spend time together, you both were trying to decompress all of the stress that you carried from the week. It began to be exhausting just to try and put up an effort. You both were at fault.

You could’ve tried harder and so could Rooster.

You had hoped that it was just a phase. That you both would snap out of it and things would go back to normal.

Rooster ended things.

It shocked you. You had hoped that he carried that same wish as well that your relationship would get better.

The conversation didn’t last very long. As soon as the words “I think we should end things” came out of his mouth, you walked away from him. You didn’t need to hear any more. It was clear how he felt.

Now, you had to watch as Rooster and his new girlfriend set up their towel in front of you and get all cozy together.

You could feel the glances from your friends to see if you were okay with what was going on.

“I think I’m going to go get a drink.” You said standing up.

“We have a full cooler right here.” Jake pointed out.

“I need something stronger than what’s in there.” You grabbed your phone and started making your way to the Hard Deck. You contemplated going home, but everyone one else was so excited to spend some time together. You willed yourself to stick it out.

Inside, you sat at the bar and asked for a beer from one of Penny’s bartenders.

“Is this seat taken?” You heard a familiar voice say.

Rooster.

You didn’t even realize he had followed you in from the beach.

“Nope.”

He sat down and requested a beer as well. It was super awkward. You briefly remembered the times where you’d talk about anything and everything under the sun with Rooster. Now, he just felt like a stranger.

“I’m sorry if I made things weird by bringing Jaime.” He said after a few moments of silence.

“You didn’t make it weird. I love hanging out with my ex and his perfect new girlfriend.”

Rooster rolled his eyes, “It doesn’t need to be this type of conversation, (Y/n).”

“Then we don’t need to have a conversation at all.” You grabbed some money and placed it on the bar to cover you beer that you didn’t get to finish before walking away.

“(Y/n), wait!” Rooster once again followed you outside. He grabbed you by your left elbow and tugged you back before you can get too far.

“Bradley, I don’t want to talk about this.”

You hardly ever called him anything by his first name. He could tell how upset you were. “I know you don’t but we have to. I don’t want things to be so awkward anymore.”

“Really?,” you chuckled, “Now you don’t want things to be awkward? Its been awkward since you broke up with me. You think I want to sit there and watch you with someone else? You think I’ll be okay with that?”

Bradley still had his hand on your arm. You wondered if he even noticed. You did. Your skin felt hot from his touch.

“I didn’t bring her to intentionally hurt you. We just started dating and she wanted to meet my friends.”

“A heads up would’ve been nice. Did you even think about how I’d feel? We’ve only been broken up for a month.”

“I honestly didn’t think you’d care.”

Those words hurt even worse than when he broke up with you. Didn’t think you cared?

You took a step back from him, “Wow.”

Rooster moved closer to you again, “Fuck, I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How else could I have possibly interpreted that, Bradley? You didn’t think that I would care that you’ve already met someone and like them enough to bring them around the group?”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, (Y/n). You have to know that. You’re-“ Rooster sighed, “you’re one of the most important people in my life. I care about you and I know that I always will. I’m sorry that things ended the way that it did for us. I wanted us to work. (Y/n), you have to know that. We just-“

“Stopped trying.” You finished for him. You could tell that he was genuinely apologetic.

“I know that I’ll always love you, (Y/n). You’re the first person that I’ve ever felt truly comfortable around.”

You felt tears brimming in your eyes because standing right in front of you was the man that you thought you’d spend the rest of your life with. And he was happy with someone else.

“I hope you’re happy.”

Your words confused Rooster for a moment, “What?”

“I hope you’re happy with Jaime….but not like how you were with me. It’s selfish. I know. I’m just not ready to let you go yet.” You never thought you’d be confessing your inner most thoughts to him. Not when he just introduced his new girlfriend to the group.

“(Y/n)-“

“You don’t have to say anything. I know you’ve moved on. I just had to say that.” You took a step back from Rooster and it looked like he wanted to reach out and grab you again. He watched as you walked away and back towards the group.

He stayed planted in his spot there on the beach. “Maybe I haven’t moved on.” Rooster whispered softly to himself.

[fandoms-writings]

i have one for u !!!

7 from angst & 6 from smut with bucky barnes? i angsty/smut is like… 🤭🤭

Pairing: ceramics professor!bucky x fem!student!reader

Word Count: 2.4K

Warnings: SMUT 18+ ONLY, unprotected vaginal sex, p in v sex, pet names: sir, sweetheart, baby. a little angst, but i was having a rough time with the angst so i did what i could.

A/N: listen - i know i said that the event was for drabbles but i get very easily carried away sooooo yeah - i hope you enjoy!! &lt;3

Masterpost || Bucky Masterlist || Event Post

Bucky hadn't meant to get so. . . involved with you. At least, not the way it had turned out. 

At first it wasn't a problem, you were just someone in the bar at the beginning of summer who caught his eye and let him shoot his shot. He'd fucked you in the bathroom of that very bar before taking you back to his place to do it again. 

You'd become fuck buddies over the summer, hooking up whenever you could, but trying to keep it on the down low because neither of you wanted a real relationship at the time. 

And it was fine, it worked. 

Until summer was over. He told you he was going to be busier than usual and you said the same. Neither of you had given the other a reason as to why, but it didn't take long for the both of you to figure it out. 

He went to work, to bide his time until he would allow himself to call you, setting up at the front of the studio. Copies of his syllabus were laid out on the tables, his throwing wheel was cleaned and ready for a demonstration, though he wouldn't be demonstrating anything today. That would be later in the week. 

The first few classes went by without a hitch, and he was glad to have almost all of the students filling his room actually interested in being there. Usually, the fresh college kids didn't really want to be there at all so there was minimal effort, but they actually seemed like they cared this year. 

He'd reset up the room again for the last group of the day, erasing the information on the board and rewriting his name. He may have been old school like that, not many of the other professors did it, but he knew some people had trouble hearing so it helped to have a visual. 

Students started filing in one by one, some of them already in small groups of two or three, but there was one laugh that had his blood turning to ice in his veins. He took a calming breath, as calming as it could be, and peaked over his shoulder behind him, finding you. 

You were smiling and laughing with who he assumed was a friend of yours, and he was sure you hadn't even noticed him yet. He watched as you looked at the syllabus on the table in front of you, reading it over but not really paying it any mind. 

He hadn't told you his first or last name during any of your time together. He was just 'Bucky' to you so why would you take notice of his true name on the paper? 

After finding his focus again, he decided to just go about the class as if it was any other group of students. Ignoring the elephant in the room that only the two of you knew about. 

When class was over though, you stayed behind, waiting for him to finish speaking with everyone else before you approached him, even allowing those who'd come in after you to ask their questions first. 

"So," You walked up to his desk, being mindful to leave an appropriate amount of distance between the two of you, "Guess this means we stop, huh?" 

He looked up at you then, properly looked at you for the first time that day. There wasn't a single sign of anger or negativity on your face, only pure understanding and patience. And maybe a little disappointment. 

"Yeah," he said, "I guess so." 

You nodded, "Well, just don't be a stranger, kay?" He could see the sadness starting to flood in your eyes as you waited for his confirmation. 

"I promise," he nodded, and you gave him a sad smile before turning around, walking out of his room. 

Things continued like that for a while. He'd come around when you needed help, showing tips and tricks he'd picked up over the years. Bucky tried keeping it a professional relationship, but it was harder than he thought it would be. 

He couldn't be around you for too long without feeling the need to touch you again. He couldn't stare at your hands for too long, working the clay, or he'd remember how your hands felt on his skin, raking down his back. 

But he just needed to make it until the end of the semester, and he could do that, right? 

~

Fall break, your saving grace from feeling like drowning in work and it was only the first semester. How were you ever going to get through this? 

The campus was almost deserted, practically everyone had gone on vacation or gone home to their families for the break. You stayed behind, hoping to get a head start on the next quarter's assignments and notes. 

And you'd been doing that, until the little voice in your head had gained some courage and made you want to ask the question it had been asking you for weeks. Since the first day of the semester. 

You needed to find Bucky, and you were pretty sure you knew where to look. 

Gathering your bag and your purse from the table, you deserted the library and headed for the art building. You knew the building would be open, for those students who hadn't gone home, like you. What you were worried about was if his door would open. 

And it didn't. It was locked. But there was one more place you knew to check. 

~

There was a knocking on the door, and when Bucky looked up from his sculpture to see who was on the other side of the glass door, his heart all but stopped. 

There you were, holding your sweater around you tight as you fought off the chill the wind brought. Your legs were bare beneath your skirt and he just knew you were freezing out there. What were you doing here? 

He wiped his hands off with the clean rag as he made his way over to the door, the smile on your face when you saw him through the glass made his breath hitch and his heart stutter as he unlocked the latch. 

"What're you doing here?" He asked, stepping aside so you could come in out of the cold. 

"I need to ask you something," You said, the urgency in your voice setting off alarm bells. 

"How did you know I was here?" 

"I know you, how else do you think I found you?"

He nodded, "Right." You did know him. He tried to forget how well you knew him sometimes. "So what's your question?" 

"Do you think," You started, fidgeting with the cuffs of your sweater, your nerves starting to take over. You bit your lip as you thought about your question now. You really shouldn't ask it, you know you shouldn't. But you needed to know. And hell, you came all the way down here, so you may as well. "Do you think we could restart what we had over the summer once the semester is over?" 

His body tensed as his eyes locked on you. "What?" 

Your heart was racing and you could hear the roar of your blood rushing in your ears. "You heard me." It came out barely above a whisper, but that's all you could muster yourself to do. You couldn't ask it again, there was no way. 

He hugged a breath out through his nose, "But why?" 

You tried not to let it show in your eyes how hollow your chest suddenly felt. No matter how badly you wanted to back away, you stood your ground, but you could feel your shoulders shrinking in on you. "What do you mean why?" 

He looked to the ground, his hands settling on his hips. The silence was deafening as the pit in your chest only grew in anticipation. The longer you waited for an answer, the more you could feel the dam breaking, the tears welling in your eyes. 

"Bucky?" You whispered and he finally looked up at you, looking just as wrecked as you felt. 

"Why me?" He asked, his voice hoarse. "Do you realize how beautiful you are? Anyone would be lucky to have you - someone your age." 

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you were holding. It wasn't that he didn't want you - it was the morals of the whole thing. "Maybe," You walked up to him, standing mere inches from him as you looked up to meet his eyes, "But none of them are you." 

"It's wrong," He muttered, holding impossibly still as you took another small step forward. 

"I can keep a secret." 

"I could lose my license." 

"So we wait," You whispered, your lips brushing against his as you spoke, "We wait until I'm not your student." 

"Yeah?" He asked, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

You nodded, "yeah." 

You looked up to see his eyes locked onto your lips. You nudged his nose with the tip of yours, getting his attention back to your eyes and you barely registered the crack in his resolve before his lips were on yours and his hands were cradling your face. 

It was an all too familiar exchange, one you two knew well as his hands roamed your body, guiding you back towards a table. But it was different this time. There was a new feeling in your heart as he picked you up by your hips and set you on the table's surface, your knees parting for him to stand between them.

His hands dove under your sweater and your shirt, palming your breasts, pulling you as close to him as he could get you while he let your tongue taste every corner of his mouth. 

"We shouldn't be doing this," your words were swallowed by him and he groaned. 

"One more time," He whispered, moving to your neck, "Just one more." His mouth attached to your skin, sending shivers down your spine. 

"One more," You agreed, reaching for his pants, unbuttoning them so you could fit your hand past the waist line and into his boxers. Wrapping your hand around his length, you gave a small tug, earning a groan into your neck. 

His fingers moved to the hem of your skirt, pushing it up to your hips and cupping your sex over your panties, groaning at the dampness already there. 

"You're already wet, sweetheart," He smirked at you as he pulled away to look at you. "You missed my touch that much, hm?" 

You nodded, whining out, "Yes - need you." 

He cooed at you as he pulled the fabric of your panties to the side, swiping his fingers through your folds, smirking at the whine that escaped your throat. "God I missed this." 

You shoved his pants down, freeing his cock and letting it land over your clit, the sensation sending a jolt through you. He groaned as he swiped his cock through your folds, gathering the slick he could before lining himself up and pushing himself in, holding the side of your neck as he did. 

A whine broke free from your lips and his hand around your neck tightened, "I know baby, I just couldn't wait, need to feel you around me." He pushed further in, watching as your cunt sucked him further in. 

You gasped as he bottomed out, pushing in all the way to the base, making you remember how full he made you feel. 

"Fuck," he groaned, his head tipping back, "you feel amazing." He started rolling his hips, doing shallow thrusts, savoring the moment as your walls fluttered around him. 

But you wanted more. You needed him to move. 

You hooked your feet behind him, your legs around his waist, and you pulled him towards you. 

His head came back down as he looked at you. "Desperate baby?" 

You reached forward, fisting his shirt and pulling him down towards you, whispering, "Show me how much you missed me." 

His hand on the side of your neck moved down to rest over the lower part of your stomach and his other one wrapped under one of your legs, propping your ass up. "You wanna feel how much I missed you, huh?"

You nodded, the excitement bubbling in your stomach, your walls clenching around him. 

"Okay baby." 

He set a brutal pace, pushing down on your stomach to make you feel him even deeper. 

"Oh fuck -" You tried to hold yourself up on your elbows, the bits of dried clay digging into your skin, but you didn't notice, not with how he was pounding into you. 

"You're so good for me," He grunted, leaning forward and moving his hand back up to your neck, wrapping around the front of it, keeping you from falling to the table. "So fucking good around me." A loud moan tore from your chest when he angled your hips down and he smiled, "Fucking made for me. Aren't you?" 

All you could do was nod as you tried to catch your breath, regardless of how useless that would be. 

"Use your words," He demanded, and it made the band in your stomach tighten. 

"Yes!" You got out, "made for you - fuck - just you." 

"That's right," He let your throat go, moving his thumb to press on your clit, "and while we wait, no one else gets to touch you, you got that?" 

You nodded, "Yes, sir." 

His thumb circled your bundle of nerves, "You wanna cum sweetheart?" 

"Please," You all but cried, "please please please, sir." 

"Give me a good one then," His thumb pressed down harder, circled in time with his hips, "Give me one to think about when I'm missing you, yeah?" 

Your jaw went slack as the band snapped, your walls clenching around him as your orgasm washed over you. The blood was rushing in your ears and you almost - almost - missed what he said. 

"Wish I could cum in you," He grunted, watching your cunt swallow him back in, over and over. 

"Do it," Your voice was hoarse and you were panting, but he heard it. You know he did because his pace faltered, but only for a second. 

"Fuck," his hands gripped your hips, sure to leave bruises. "Fuckfuckfu- " 

He buried himself as far as your cunt would allow him, holding your hips to his as his cock twitched before painting your walls with his spend. You moaned with him, loving the way it felt. 

Neither of you moved for a while, just looking at each other, taking in as many details as you could. 

It was going to be a long few months. 

But it would be worth it. 

[ryverbind]

Faceless Fixation (Sal Fisher): Cut Me, Hurt Me, Use Me [26.2]

Sal's Lore Part 3

------

TW: substance abuse/addiction, su!c!dal thoughts, and mentions of self harm

++++++++

Chains gripped him, held him down under a torrent of consistent, suffocating, and lethal waves of affliction. It was a plague that had been taking him over for decades now and he wondered how he hadn't become used to it after all this time.

Every time it started to get bad, he shattered under the weight of realizing 'again.' He was trapped again. A victim of his own torment. He tore himself down, stripped himself of dignity and of hope. 

This time, he didn't care where these abyssal waters dragged him.

Sal's rapidly deteriorating life was transforming into something monstrous and untamed. He no longer recognized himself when he looked into the mirror-- not that it mattered much in the first place. He hadn't recognized himself since he was five years old. 

He stared blankly at his ceiling. Counting the stained tiles and filing through arbitrary numbers and combinations in his head no longer aided as a distraction. The only savior in his life happened to be the one thing that would tear him down for good. 

When he tried it the first time, upped his daily dosage of anxiety medication to three pills rather than one, he was thrilled. Finally, a solution to his mental torture. He had fallen into a near drunken state, his head clouded with fog and for once, not so many worries captured him so devilishly. 

Since then, he had slipped into a hellish routine. Wake up in the late afternoon, take much more of his medication than he should have, then he'd nap for hours or dissociate beneath his duvet. What else could he do to occupy his miserable days? The woman who assaulted him was in prison, but she wouldn't remain there forever. She wouldn't be there for nearly long enough.

All Sal could do was painstakingly count down the days to her release-- when he was sober enough to do so, of course.

When he would regain a bit of his clarity come nightfall, when the moon and stars occupied his empty days, he would stream. It was never for long-- he couldn't bear to engage in something he couldn't find it in himself to love anymore. She had stripped him of the few things he had once adored.

His birthday was approaching. He would be twenty two. In his past years, he feared the fated day. What if everyone forgot about him? What if no one wished him a happy birthday? But this year, he didn't even consider that, nor did he care. So what if everyone forgot him? He was beginning to forget himself too.

Sal glanced to the side, the weight of his own head too much for him to carry with benzodiazepines coursing through his veins. His internal enemy had transformed into his friend-- the medication he cursed for so many years had become his safe haven. He beheld the bottle, wondering if he could turn the pills inside into an eternal bed for himself. He could rest. He could finally leave it all. 

All the elderly scholars claimed that Aphrodite had been the greatest temptation, but Sal had found a substance that topped the goddess in that department.

He didn't want to continue in a world where he wasn't even living. Why continue to suffer when everything could be silent forever? 

The monster that haunted Sal laughed at him, mocked him as it towered over his limp form on the bed. The wispy trails of its shadows slithered around Sal's body, only adding to the chains that stood out against the fresh cuts along his skin. Its wicked grin failed to strike fear in Sal's heart this time. He looked at the abomination he was destined to become and didn't cower. With each passing day, he assumed he wouldn't be alive long enough to see this empty shell of a creature he'd eventually turn into. The land-born leviathan that made his life into a laughing stock had nothing on him if he could end it before it began. 

Sal lazily glared at it-- at the imitation of himself-- while his hand stumbled around his dresser for the bottle of medication.

"Sal?" Three knocks sounded on his bedroom door, painfully echoing around the dark vignette of his drugged mind. The bottle clattered to the floor. "Wanna come out with me and Lisa for dinner tonight?"

It was his father. Sal bit down on his scarred, chapped lips as the hallucinations of his greatest fears, conjured up by his own mind, dissipated into nothingness. Gone like that, in the blink of an eye. He cursed the odds. How come he couldn't fight his own battles?

He swallowed against the dryness in his mouth, waiting for an excuse to come to him. "Not tonight, dad. I'm still feeling a little sick." He slurred, giving his father the usual excuse, claiming he was suffering with allergies.

A muffled, defeated sigh. Sal waited with bated breath for his father to leave. The sooner the better. He didn't want the man who raised him to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him this way, which is precisely why he only left the room in the dead of night and early hours of the morning.

"Son," the words were gentle, sad. "Talk to me, please. You've told me you're sick for months now. I know that's not it." 

Sal gulped over the lump that suddenly formed in his throat, cutting off his airways. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he stayed quiet.  

"Your friends say that they don't see you anymore. You don't answer their texts or calls. Hell, you don't even open your bedroom door for them." Henry's voice cracked, the sound causing Sal to launch into an upright position. His weak arms were barely able to catch his weight when the room began to spin around him.

Sal squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to clear his head, to right himself. His dad was outside his door, close to tears. He hadn't seen his father cry since the passing of his mother.

And his friends. Every day, without fail, they would try. Ash messaged him at least three times a day, called a couple times. Larry, Neil, and Todd would knock on his bedroom door to check in once or twice each. He would ignore them or give excuses every single time. He knew he was letting them down, but in this state, he didn't want to see them. He didn't want to see anyone.

"We have Gizmo at the apartment." Fuck, Gizmo. Sal's little man. After the first few days of falling into himself, Sal started asking Larry to take care of his cat in his stead. He didn't have the strength to look at his boy knowing that the feline could sense his downward spiral. "He's been with us for a few weeks now. He misses you. We all miss you."

Sal dropped his face into his hands, his fingers quaking with the revelation his father had bestowed upon him. Leaving his friends and family behind was already one thing, but the cat who saved him? He felt terrible. The monstrous version of himself was right for cackling at him. Sal was a pathetic excuse of a human.

"And I just want you to know that I love you. You're my boy, Sal. I adore every bit of you and I desperately wish I could hold you in my arms again the way I did the day you were born. With your little hands and feet." Henry took a deep, shuddering breath. "You know, I'm proud of you. You're talented at so many things. You're polite, you're strong, you're kind. Despite all the obstacles, you've... you've pushed through it and you've become a wonderful man. I'm proud of you, and I'm proud to call myself your father."

Sal felt a sob working up his throat, his heart pounding inside his chest. He gripped the front of his shirt in weak hands, squeezing the fabric as the pain of causing his father so much anguish became too much to bear. 

Hot tears slipped down his cheeks and he sniffled, feeling attacked by the onslaught of guilt, of fear, of regret. He thought he had conquered these emotions, finally beaten them. It created a hole in his heart, forced a deep ache to surface in his chest. Everything his medicine was meant to do failed on him now as harsh pants wracked his body, his thoughts on a rampage and his body suffering the consequences of the abuse he put himself through. 

"Sal," his father's voice was a bit frantic now. Sal knew he could hear the breakdown he was tumbling into. "Please, buddy. Let's talk. Let me help you."

Sal rushed to stand, his legs too tired to support him. He stumbled to the wall, another agonized sob breaking past the barriers he thought he'd built up. His hands trembled against the white wallpaper and he used it to guide himself to his awaiting father. He needed to get to him, tell him he was sorry. Tell him he loved him, beg his father to forgive him.

He gasped for breath, his chest so tight and his mind so muddled with negativity that he couldn't take a full breath. He was slowly slipping beneath the waves, barely able to keep his head above water.

Sal didn't let the terror of leaving his emotions bare to his father stop him when his quivering hand finally wrapped around his doorknob, unlocking it the moment he realized he'd had it locked for two days now.

He ripped the door open, the wood slamming against his bedroom door viciously.

Henry stood past the threshold, his eyes red-rimmed and a lone tear running down his flushed cheek. Sal was sure he looked much worse than his father, especially when Henry's gaze softened into something somber, something far more heartbreaking than the word 'sad' could truly encompass.

Sal launched at his father, wrapping his arms around his waist and squeezing. Henry rubbed his hands up and down Sal's back, trying to soothe him, comfort him in the only way he possibly could.

"I'm sorry," Sal cried, his tears wetting the front of his father's shirt, his shame leaking onto the solidity Henry brought him. "I'm so sorry."

The grief that overtook both Sal and his father weighed even more than the after effects of the drugs he had been abusing for so long. Burdened them more than the depression and pain that Sal had been suffocating with all this time. All of his problems were sharp pins and he was the voodoo doll. It all came back to drown him-- and now it was drowning the people he cared about most.

Sal spilled everything the moment he and Henry sank to the floor. He relived the exact moment he confessed what had happened to Ash just a few months ago. Once was enough, but twice couldn't be a coincidence. 

How many times was Sal going to blame his bad luck before he could finally see that he was the one tearing himself apart now?

On the floor, a heaping, sobbing mess before his father, Sal wondered how he'd be able to pick himself back up whenever his actions had thrown himself down this way. Henry tried to tell him he understood, that Sal was never to blame. That Sal never deserved all these things that happened to him. But Sal had resolved his mind to one thing-- falling apart in front of his father like this was something he never wanted to do again. Ignoring his friends and family, neglecting his Gizmo. They were all things he never, ever wanted to do again for as long as he lived. 

He didn't know if he'd get better, but the least he could do was try, right?

With Sal's permission and a conversation with Lisa, Henry helped in admitting Sal into a rehabilitation clinic.

It was the scariest and most revitalizing thing Sal had ever done for himself. Even if he wasn't sure about what he wanted from life anymore, it at least showed that some deep, hidden part of himself wanted to live. Maybe not for himself, but for those around him, at least.

Sal made some friends during the weeks that he spent away from streaming and away from the temptation of tearing himself apart. The first week and a half was miserable. He had to learn to survive without the help of more drugs than he needed. The dosage of his anxiety medicine was lowered to better accompany his journey toward healing. Worst of all were the constant headaches and nausea of withdrawal. Part of him believed his attempts to improve were in vain, especially during the sleepless nights where, sometimes, he could hear that monster clawing at his barred windows.

But, then the headaches began to go away. He was able to eat more than just crackers and soup once a day. He felt like going outside, walking around the garden that his clinic had. And, damn, he felt like talking when he and his hall-mates would meet with a counselor to discuss their day and their thoughts. 

Not being alone in his darkness inspired him. And that was when the writing began.

Sal's pen flew across the blank sheet of paper he had taken from the lounge down his hall. It hadn't been the first time he'd done this-- the past week, he had filled up a full stack of paper with words that came from the darkness that had tainted him for all these years. 

This paper, though. This one mattered the most.

He hardly had to think, his gaze flying across the page and his pencil scratching against the paper. It just came so easily to him.

"Preserve my youth Through words I write-- Forbidden truths Soaked with venom in the night.

Enslaved to my pen, Chained in this cage; Ink stains on my skin For my friends beyond the page.

Blood soaked rose thorns And bones for my quill-- Trapped in beauty that adorns The violence of a kill--"

Sal blinked when the paper slipped out from beneath his pencil, no doubt leaving a long, graphite mark across the page. 

He whipped his head to the side, looking at his roommate who pursed his lips at the paper. Sal relaxed a bit upon seeing him. He may have been Sal's roommate, but he'd also quickly become a friend. Quite a curious friend, at that.

Sal didn't know much about him, but the man encouraged his healing habits. That seemed like reason enough to consider him a friend.

His friend picked up another paper that lied on Sal's small desk on his side of the room. He glanced over it, his lips quirking up in a little smile. A smile that made Sal suddenly grow nervous. Poetry wasn't new to him, but he hadn't realized he had such an affinity for it until he'd come to rehab. His counselor had instructed his group to write a poem about their healing journey a week ago and Sal realized he'd loved the escape that came with it. It was about as freeing as playing his guitar, but much more creative and meaningful than the mediocre poetry he'd written before this.

Sal snapped himself out of the memory when his friend began reading the words on the page he'd just picked up. 

"Look at what I've become-- My mother's careful knitting is undone. Sixty stitches and a price never paid, Might as well have sliced me with a blade.

All gaping wounds and pity, Disgust has never looked so pretty. My own disgust or theirs;  Or is it just hospital rooms and wheelchairs?"

Sal snatched the paper back before his friend could read anymore. This one was personal and he didn't want all of his internalized anguish out in the open.

"That's enough," he rasped, tone quiet. 

His friend frowned. "It's good stuff, Sal. Don't be ashamed." Sal took a deep breath, trying to ignore the way the man's smooth, captivating voice seemed to lull him into feeling false confidence. And still, his friend continued. "Why don't you like people reading your work? You didn't read yours during the meeting the other day."

"It's embarrassing," Sal grumbled. He could feel his cheeks burning up beneath his prosthetic. "Give me the other."

His friend raised a defiant eyebrow.

Sal rolled his eyes as anxiety gripped him whole. He gestured to the paper and, through gritted teeth, forced out, "Please."

His friend grinned at him. "I'll give it back under one condition."

Sal sighed, beginning to grow frustrated, but he heard his friend out.

"Whatever the issue is, whether you're just shy or if you don't want people to see the scary parts of yourself, your poetry's good. That's undeniable." His friend's grin softened into a reassuring smile. "I have a band back home. We're just starting out. Why don't you write music for us? It would give us an excuse to be friends after all this."

Sal's lips parted in surprise. Write music for a band? He hadn't considered giving his poetry to anyone.

Sal's voice was hoarse as he managed to say, "I-- I don't know..." His poetry was his. He felt possessive of it-- he couldn't possibly let anyone else express his mind, even if it were through sound, could he?

His friend shrugged, handing his poetry back to him. "Think about it," he said to Sal. "No one has to know you write the lyrics. Might be a good way to express yourself and heal, you know? Music has been healing for me. Maybe it can do the same for you."

The man gave Sal a gentle smiled then walked out of their shared room. Sal watched him leave with ideas swirling around his head. 

Recently, he had begun to see a light at the end of the tunnel. Eating properly, going out into the sun, admiring the sunset, reading literature and poetry, writing poetry again, making friends... it had all begun to mold into this infectious hope. Something he thought he would never, ever feel. And now this opportunity to write music for a band... he felt like he was standing at the door that let in all the hope that swelled within him. He just had to choose how he would walk through that door and if he would take the offer his friend extended to him.

The tides had turned. Maybe music could be an escape for him again.

He thought about his friends proposition, considered his options, thought about all the other things he could do in his life. He thought about his friends back home, thought about his streaming career, other projects he'd been working on before things started to go downhill.

He made his decision, but he'd talk to his friend about that later.

Until then, he'd scratch away on his paper, pull the last broken bits of him out of his body and splatter it against the page.

------

A/N:::::::: i know this lore chapter isn't long, but the next one while be a little lengthier!! :3 i also think the next one will be the last for sal's lore as well.

as always, i'd like to address the heavy hitting topics included in this chapter. we've explored sal's suicidal thoughts before, so the main focus here is his addiction to his medication. As many of you know, there's been an opioid and drug epidemic in the US that has been around for over a decade now. many doctors abuse the option for medicine and prescribe it when it is not needed, or they prescribe much more than needed. of course, many people do need their medicines-- i'm one of them. the issue lies in the possible effects not being explored nearly enough. opioids, OTC's, and prescription medication can be very addictive due to the job that they do to regulate our system. it creates something of a euphoria or an escape when taken in excess and that's where the addiction can begin. while i'm not knowledgable enough on the topic to say much more about it, it is something i'd like to raise awareness about. addiction is heartbreaking, life-altering, and crippling. my father fell victim to addiction-- to the same type of medication that i've had Sal take in this chapter. it broke my family apart and it broke my dad. witnessing him slowly falling apart and being away from him during his time in rehab has completely altered the trajectory of my life. seeing his tears as he finally came to understand what had happened to him is genuinely some of the worst pain i think i've ever felt. i'm very happy to say that my family has been back together for a few years now and Father Ryver is doing so much better, but i can't say the same for other victims of addiction, especially considering that my aunt is going through the same thing right now.

remember that you are NEVER alone. i see you, i hear you, i love you. addiction is no one's fault, nor is it something to feel guilty over. it's a horrible thing that can happen during attempts at healing or completely unplanned, but it isn't forever. pain is temporary, love is forever.

if needed, i did some research on international hotlines as well as some in the US:

USA - Emergency Substance Abuse Hotline: 1-800-662-4357 EUROPE - Samaritans: 116 123                      Give Us A Shout: text SHOUT to 85258 AUSTRALIA - Sane Helpline: 1800 187 263 CANADA - Wellness Together (for mental health and substance abuse): 1-866-585-0445 or text WELLNESS to 741741 SOUTH AFRICA - Narcotics Anonymous: 0861 00 6962 NEW ZEALAND - Alcohol and Drug Helpline: 0800 787 797 PHILIPPINES - Substance Abuse Helpline: 1550 INDIA - National Toll Free Helpline: 1800-11-0031

anyway, as always, all my love to you darlings! stay true to yourself and stay strong. I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!! have a lovely morning, day, evening, night <333

[clown-friend-gt]

Up, Up, and Away Chapter 10

Fresh Meat?

1.4k words

(CW: Violence, broken bones)

Link to Masterpost

************************************************************************

Trevor had heard people joke before that school was a lot like prison. He wasn’t entirely certain that was true, but he was starting to see the similarities. For one, it was just as mind-numbingly dull, especially without his phone to scroll through, or something to doodle on to occupy his time.

Then there was the fact that he still had to attend class. Something about that didn’t quite feel right. But all of the corrections officers who’d talked to him emphasized the importance of keeping up with his studies. So he trudged off to class with everyone else.

Trevor had never had to move to a new school before. But if he had, he imagined it’d go a lot like it did when class started that day. He carried his stuff in one hand, hoping to find some corner to hunker down in. But the teacher stopped him at the front of the classroom.

“Class, I want to introduce you to our new student. This is Trevor.” The teacher gestured to him.

Trevor stared blankly at the people sitting around the room. They stared blankly back. No one spoke for a brief moment.

“Ooh, fresh meat!” a voice from the middle of the room jeered. Trevor’s eyes darted over to the source. A lanky boy with short black hair was looking to the people sitting around him for approval. He got a few chuckles, but most of the room was silent.

“Shut up, Will,” the teacher reprimanded him, though her voice sounded tired.

Trevor took the opportunity to sidle off. He carefully picked his way to the back of the room, then found a spot to sit down. He quickly zoned out as the teacher began her lesson.

As for other similarities between school and prison, he didn’t get the chance to see if the food was any better. One of the kitchen staff handed him a bucket of that nutritional sludge the institute had devised for him. He took a look at the weird, gray substance and his lip curled in disgust. But he took it anyway and walked away.

He felt eyes on him again as he wandered through the cafeteria. He tried not to look, but curiosity got the better of him. He happened to make eye contact with the kid who’d shouted at him earlier.

Will sat at the end of a table with a group of boys who talked and laughed amongst each other. He stood out as the only one paying Trevor any mind, glaring at him. He traced his finger across his neck menacingly.

Trevor rolled his eyes and kept walking. If Will wanted to act all tough, he could. If only he’d leave Trevor out of it.

Physical activity was also just as important here as it was at school. Everyone had to spend time outside in the prison yard, and everyone had to participate in some kind of sport, unless they were excused from it by a doctor. Trevor wondered if they’d accept ‘freak of nature’ as a medical excuse.

He never got the chance to find out. Trevor forced himself through the double doors that led outside during the free time before they had to join an activity. Straightening out, he blinked his eyes a few times to get them used to being in the sunlight. Then he made his way down from the landing outside the doors and into the prison yard.

He was starting to get really tired of the feeling of being stared at. Glancing around, he counted half a dozen people openly watching him. Despite his growing irritation, he chose to ignore them. He fixed his eyes straight ahead and began walking with no direction in mind.

One good thing about his size was that whenever he was headed somewhere quickly, people tended to get out of his way. It allowed him to wander around somewhat freely. He could hear whispered complaints and vague threats as people moved out of his way, but he paid no attention to them.

He found himself standing in a lone corner of the yard. It was around the middle of the day and the sun shone brightly overhead. He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of the sun on his face. It had been a few days since he’d been able to spend any time in the sun, and he’d found himself starting to miss it.

He was able to enjoy a few minutes of peaceful solitude. Then he was interrupted by someone shouting somewhere behind him.

“Hey, you!” the voice called. Trevor didn’t respond, praying silently that they were referring to anyone else.

“Don’t you just ignore me!” they yelled, sounding somewhat offended.

Sighing internally, he opened his eyes and turned to see what all the fuss was about. Standing a few feet away was Will, who glared up at Trevor again.

“Yeah, you! The giant freak! I’m talking to you!”

Trevor felt himself becoming more exasperated with every word the other boy spoke. He glanced past him to the group he’d seen earlier, who stood a decent distance away from them both. They whispered amongst themselves and looked in his direction, like they were expecting something exciting to happen.

Trevor did his best to keep a level head. “Is there a problem?” he asked as coolly as he could manage.

“Yeah, there’s problem,” Will said, crossing his arms. “The problem is you walking around like you own the place.”

Trevor looked at him incredulously. “Seriously? That’s what you’re yelling about?”

Will scowled. “Don’t you look down on me.”

Trevor rolled his eyes, his patience beginning to wear thin. He crouched down to the other boy’s level. If people found him so intimidating now, at least he could try to use that to his advantage.

“I’m so sorry, is this better?” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Trevor looked him straight in the eye, daring him to back down. For a moment, Will looked like he was considering it.

Instead, he narrowed his eyes.

“Back off, if you know what’s good for you,” Will warned him.

Trevor scowled. “You came up to me, asshole.”

Will’s scowl deepened. He reared back his fist as if to punch Trevor. Despite the size difference between them, Trevor felt a familiar sense of fear bubbling up in his stomach. He’d been in situations like this before, always at the receiving end of some attack.

While his mind floundered in a panic, his body acted on its own. His hand flew out and snatched the other boy’s wrist, stopping his strike before it could even begin.

“What the—” the boy’s eyes darted to his entrapped wrist. “Let me go!”

Trevor had been at the receiving end of attacks like this before. But that was before he was big enough to fight back. Now, he was the one in control.

He stood back up, leaving Will dangling in mid-air by the wrist. He kicked and flailed, trying desperately to escape Trevor’s grasp, but to no avail.

Trevor lifted him higher into the air. He stared him down as Will’s movements became more frantic.

“Leave me alone,” he told him, punctuating each word.

He figured he’d just hold him here until he got the message, then drop him. That way, he could scare him off before he ended up hurting him by accident.

But Will, it seemed, had other ideas.

The hairs on the back of Trevor's neck began to stand up. The air around them grew staticky. He watched as sparks darted across Will’s body, travelling up his arm to Trevor’s hand with a loud ZZZZZAP!

The shock was so much worse than he could’ve imagined. It felt like being zapped by static electricity, times a million. Like being stung by thousands of bees from the inside. Every muscle in his body tensed simultaneously, and his teeth clenched together so hard he was convinced they might shatter.

From within his fist, he felt the crunching of bones. There was a sickening crack, and Will began to scream. The electricity shocking him left his body in a rush, and he numbly released his grip. Will fell to the ground in a heap. Bile rose into Trevor’s throat.

Curled up on the ground, Will continued to wail in pain. From across the yard, he heard guards yelling at him to stand down. But everything felt so far away, now. He stared at the red, steaming hand that had held Will a moment ago. He began to feel faint.

Not again, he thought to himself, falling into despair.

First/Last/Next

[asbealthgn]

(sorry about the last one! but not that sorry. this builds on it so read that part first!)

Spring 1986

Just once, Steve would like to go twelve months without the world falling apart. Just 365 days without some fresh new hell opening up. That doesn’t seem like so much to ask, but apparently, life has other ideas.

He’s currently curled up on a chair in the Wheeler’s basement for the second night in a row. In the past seventy-two hours, he’s been threatened with a broken bottle to his neck, found out about two murders at the hands of some unknown dark wizard from the Upside Down, and almost watched Max get taken herself. And it’s still ongoing.

Everyone else is asleep except for Robin, who has the first shift watching over Max. Steve can see her through the dark, sitting with her back against the couch by Max’s feet. Robin’s fingers are drumming silently along her knees, tapping out a frantic rhythm. Steve knows he should be trying to sleep, because he has the next shift in two hours, but he can’t. Not when his mind is miles away in a boathouse on Lover’s Lake.

Eddie is alone over there.

He must be terrified. He was only thrust into this other world a few days ago when he watched a girl die right in front of him. If Steve can’t stop picturing Max lifting into the air while they waited helplessly below, he can only imagine how horrific the afterimages of Vecna’s curse being carried out to completion must be. Eddie was a babbling mess when they found him, and it can’t have possibly gotten easier being stuck in that boathouse by himself the last couple of nights. That has to be the worst part, the being alone. Whenever Steve has been recovering from his brushes with the Upside Down, he’s never truly been alone; there have always been friends to turn to, even if he’s not always the best at doing so. There’s still a world to escape to, places he can go to feel normal again. But Eddie has no one, confined to a small box while police and pissed off jocks hunt for his blood.

Steve doesn’t want Eddie to be alone. He has no idea if Eddie would even want to see him considering how they left things, but Eddie deserves to have someone by his side right now. So Steve lowers his feet off the chair and leans over to tap Robin’s shoulder. She starts and looks at him. 

“What’s wrong?” she whispers.

“Nothing,” Steve says, “Everything’s fine. Just—I’m heading out for a bit.”

She angles to face him more fully. “What?” she asks, “You can’t leave.”

“It’s just for a little while,” he assures her, “I’ll be back by the time I need to watch Max.”

“Steve—”

“It’s important, okay?”

“Steve, no offense,” Robin hisses, scooting closer and grabbing his ankle. “But there is nothing in the world that could be more important than sticking together right now.”

Sighing, Steve lowers himself off the chair and sits on the ground next to her. He wanted to avoid this, but it looks like it’s the only way. Maybe it’ll feel good to tell her. He leans close to her to whisper as softly as he can. “You remember last summer, when I told you about that guy I liked?”

She nods. 

He leans even closer, voice almost inaudible. “It’s Eddie.”

It’s too dark to see her expression, but she grabs his hand and squeezes it. “Oh,” she whispers, “I understand.”

“I just want to make sure he’s okay,” he says, “He’s been alone for days.”

There’s a pressure as she leans her head on his shoulder. “Go to him,” she says, “I’ll cover for you if anyone wakes up.”

“I love you, Robin,” he says, turning and kissing her on the forehead. Then he gets to his feet. “Thank you.”

He ascends the stairs as quietly as he can and goes out the front door. Thank God he parked his car at the end of the driveway behind Nancy’s. He pulls away from the house and starts heading for the lake. 

As he drives, he thinks about the last time he saw Eddie five months ago. He still doesn’t understand what happened. He thought things had been going well with Eddie—he thought they really liked each other. Steve knows he should have done more to tell Eddie how he felt. He knows he shouldn’t have deflected every time Eddie tried to have a conversation about what they were. He knows he was scared. But he thought they’d have time. Instead he’d shown up that day and Eddie had ended things without telling him why. The only reason Steve can think of is his own cowardice. And he hates himself for not being more ready. Maybe if he had been, he and Eddie would still be together. 

Steve isn’t sure if Eddie will turn him away now. The two times they’ve seen each other since this all started, Eddie acted like they’d never even met. He came rocketing out of that boat brandishing a broken bottle, holding it up to Steve’s throat like he might really slit it. That was the first time Steve had seen him since he’d slammed the door in his face.

Parking outside of Reefer Rick’s place, Steve gets out of his car and makes his way to the boathouse, wondering what his reception will be like. He just hopes Eddie doesn’t send him back. Steve wants to help, wants to be there for Eddie. He hopes Eddie lets him. 

He eases the door to the boathouse open. “Eddie?” he calls softly.

There’s no answer. It occurs to him that Eddie may be sleeping. If so, he doesn’t want to disturb him. Steve moves quietly inside, shutting the door behind him. He looks around, but doesn’t see Eddie. He wouldn’t have left, would he? Or maybe he was found, either by the police or by Jason and his cronies. 

Steve moves through the boathouse with more purpose, trying to hold off the panic threatening to bubble up. “Eddie,” he calls again, not daring to raise his voice for fear of alerting the neighbors. 

Again, there’s no answer, but he hears the faintest shuffling from the boat. Relieved, Steve crosses to it and pulls the tarp back. Eddie is lying on his back, staring up at Steve with those big eyes. 

“Why are you here, Harrington?” he asks.

“I came to check on you,” Steve says.

Eddie looks away from him. “Great, well, you’ve checked on me,” he says, “You can go now.” He reaches for the end of the tarp and starts to pull it back over himself, but Steve grabs it before he can.

“Hey,” he says, “You’ve been alone for days, and you’ve seen some shit. You—” Steve digs in his jacket pocket and produces a pack of cigarettes. “Do you want one?”

For a long moment, Eddie just stares at the offered cigarette, not moving. Then with a small sigh, he sits up and climbs out of the boat to take it. Steve holds out his lighter, but Eddie gets his own out of his pocket. He pushes past Steve and sits on the bench along the wall. After a moment, Steve sits next to him. Eddie won’t look at him. 

This is going great so far. 

“Do you want to talk about it at all?” Steve asks. 

Eddie shrugs. “I’ve already said all there is to say.”

“Alright.”

True to his word, Eddie is silent. Steve listens to the quiet breathing of the man next to him, the long inhales as he takes a drag. He listens to his own heartbeat, loud and persistent. 

“How—” Eddie begins. Steve looks over at him and sees Eddie’s hand covering his face. “How do you do it?”

“Do what?”

“This. Handle this shit. I—I feel like I’m losing my fucking mind.”

Steve angles his body, knees almost touching Eddie’s. “Well, you’ve seen me,” he says, “You’ve held my hand through enough panic attacks to know I don’t exactly handle it.”

Eddie drops his hand and looks at Steve, expression pained. Steve holds his hand out. Eddie doesn’t take it. Instead he folds his arms around himself, angling away from Steve. Steve retracts his hand.

“I’m fine,” Eddie says, “Still don’t know why you bothered to come.”

“Because I didn’t want you to be alone,” Steve says, “Because I care about you.”

That earns him a huff of air, an annoyed exhale. “Yeah, whatever.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Steve asks. “You don’t think I care?”

Eddie takes a long drag of the cigarette. “Why should I think you do?”

Steve stands abruptly. This isn’t getting him anywhere. He wanted to be helpful, but he’s not going to stick around if Eddie’s just going to be a dick. “Alright,” he says, “I’ll go. I need to take over watching Max for Robin, anyway.”

“Yeah, wouldn’t want to keep Robin waiting,” Eddie says drily. 

Hands on his hips, Steve turns to stand right in front of Eddie. “What, you have a problem with Robin now too?”

“Why would I have a problem with her?” Eddie asks, shrugging. “Everyone loves your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

Eddie raises the cigarette to his lips again. “You expect me to believe that?”

“Well, yeah, considering it’s the truth,” Steve says, “We’re just friends.”

“But you’re clearly sleeping together.”

“Absolutely not, man,” Steve says, “Why the fuck would you think that?”

Brow furrowed, Eddie waves the cigarette vaguely. “You’re so…close,” he says.

“Yeah, she’s my best friend,” Steve says, crossing his arms. “And we survived Russian torture together, so yeah. We’re gonna be close.”

“You survived—what?”

“Not the point. The point is Robin and I are not together. Never have been, never will be.”

Eddie is staring up at him, mouth slightly open. Steve can’t quite read his expression. “You…” Eddie says. “You’re not?”

“No, definitely not,” Steve says. “Is that why you’re so mad at me?”

Eddie stubs out the cigarette and drops it, then runs his hands over his face. “I saw you,” he says, voice muffled. “In October, I saw you at the diner in town all cuddled up with her. I thought she was your girlfriend.”

“You thought—but, Eddie, I was with you.”

Still hiding behind his hands, Eddie shakes his head slightly. “I thought she was your girlfriend and that you were fooling around with me behind her back.”

Steve is frozen to the spot. This is why Eddie ended things? Not because Steve wasn’t ready to label things but because Eddie thought he was a cheater? 

“I wouldn’t do that,” Steve says, his voice coming out angrier than he expected. “And it sucks that you think I would.”

He turns and takes a step towards the door, but he’s held back by a hand on his wrist. “Wait, Steve,” Eddie says. He stands and moves around to face Steve. “I—I really thought—”

“I’m not that kind of person,” Steve says. He’s not. Even in his King Steve days, he never kept multiple girls on the line. When he loves, he’s all in. He’s not a fucking cheater.

Eddie puts his hands on Steve’s arms like he’s trying to keep him from running away. “I’m so sorry I thought that,” he says, “I just—I didn’t understand why you would be holding her like that. I mean, how was I supposed to know what your relationship was like? It’s not like you ever introduced me to any of your friends.”

That feels like a slap in the face. “You could have asked.”

Shaking his head slightly, Eddie goes on. “Sorry, no, I shouldn’t be trying to blame you, I—” He pinches his eyes shut. “It really didn’t make any sense. I didn’t understand why you were with me. You with me. It doesn’t—I mean, look at me.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re—Steve Harrington. The golden boy,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m a freak.”

“No you’re not,” Steve says.

“I am,” Eddie says, “You know I am.”

“Okay, well, I really fucking liked you,” Steve says, “Whatever you are. I don’t care if you have, like, unconventional interests. I really wanted to be with you.”

Eddie looks like he might cry. “I wanted that too,” he whispers.

“I wish you had talked to me,” Steve says, voice gentler. “I wish you’d told me what you thought you saw so I could have explained then.”

Eddie closes his eyes. “I thought I already had my answer,” he says, “I thought you—I mean, I tried to talk to you, about what we were. And you always avoided it.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says. Tentatively, he lifts a hand to Eddie’s hair and Eddie leans in ever so slightly to the touch. “I should have told you how I felt about you. But I was scared. I mean, I’ve never liked a boy until you. It’s been—terrifying.”

“I understand,” Eddie says, opening his eyes. “And I’m sorry. Maybe we both kind of suck at talking.”

Steve smiles slightly. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Do you think we could, uh, start over?” Eddie asks, “Pretend all of that never happened and just go from here?”

“I’d like that,” Steve says. He puts his arms around Eddie, burying his face in the other man’s shoulder and they stand like that for a while, clinging to each other. He knows they’ll need to talk more, work out the issues that led them to this place and figure out where they’re going from here. But for now, he’s happy to just be touching Eddie.

“Hey, Steve?” Eddie asks, gripping him a little tighter. “Will you stay for a little while?”

Steve runs a hand through Eddie’s hair. “Of course I will.”

Eddie takes his hand and leads him over to the boat, climbing back in. They lay side by side on the bottom, tucked close together. It’s not even remotely comfortable, but Steve doesn’t really care. All that matters is that he’s holding onto Eddie and Eddie is holding him back.

“When do you have to leave?” Eddie asks, face against Steve’s shoulder. Steve checks his watch.

“In about an hour.”

“And why—you said you’re watching Max?” Eddie says. “Why does she need watching?”

“Oh,” Steve says. He sort of forgot that Eddie doesn’t know. “Vecna almost got her.”

“Holy shit,” Eddie says, tilting his face to look at Steve. “Is she okay?”

Steve shrugs. “I think so. No broken bones or anything,” he says, “But she’s definitely freaked out. We all are.”

Shifting a little, Eddie frowns. “How did she survive?”

As quickly and coherently as he can, Steve explains the discovery that Robin and Nancy made about music and Max’s description of what she saw. He stumbles over the explanation, since he’s not sure he completely grasps it. He wishes Dustin was here to describe it better. But Eddie nods along like he gets it.

“Music is powerful shit, man,” he whispers.

Steve nods. “Yeah, it saved her life,” he says, “We have her listening to the song on loop, and somebody staying awake to keep an eye on her in case she starts lifting again.”

He feels Eddie tense slightly, probably remembering Chrissy. “I’m sorry you had to see that,” he says. 

“It was fucking terrifying,” Steve says, “I’m so sorry you had to go through it alone.”

Eddie tucks his face back against Steve’s neck, not saying anything. For a long time, they just hold each other. As terrible as the circumstances are, there is something oddly comforting about being in this boat with Eddie, bonded by their shared history and this new misery. 

“You can sleep, if you want,” Eddie whispers eventually. “I’ll wake you up when you need to leave.”

“No, that’s okay,” Steve says, “You should sleep.”

“I’m not tired,” Eddie says, “I slept all day when it was light out. I can’t seem to fall asleep in the dark.”

Steve knows that feeling exactly. He’s gone through it enough times to know how much worse the darkness makes the nightmares. Now though, he’s so exhausted from the day that all he wants is to sleep. “Are you sure?” he asks.

“Sleep, baby,” Eddie murmurs, and Steve could cry from the return of that name. “I’ll wake you up.”

(part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21)

taglist: @adashofaroace @spectrum-spectre @girlwhoknewtheoriginoflove @cupc8keblonde @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @leeahpuppet  @bidisastersworld @axltheedaddy @crushed-like-an-ant @whimsicalwitchm @hollysimone @awolfnamedaliac @gay-little-bitch @duckyreads @nelotegreitic @henderdads @iamsotiredman @thegingervulcan @mezmatch @stranger-poets-society @official-insanity-c @briceslayed @ohwelsh @lonestarcowpoke @lycriza @bejeweledbaby @a-huge-nerdy-nerd @cnfsd-bisexual @cheeseaddict-12 @wrenisflying @swimmingbirdrunningrock @sadcanadianwinter @ash-a-confused-enby @grtwdsmwhr @edgelordesworld @vecnuthy @lightwoodbanethings @soulminyg @notbatman00 @steve-the-hairrington @lizisodd @artiststarme @queerbeansworld @thegingerrapunzel @ceaselessly-watching @best-selling-show @idkwwhatimmdoiing @ashlynjessi @yes-im-your-mom @steddie-there @thefailcollection @samcoxramblings @beeing-stuupid

lmk if you want to be tagged! as a side note, i also started posting this fic on ao3. there will be more than what’s in these snippets so check it out if you’re interested :)

[squishmyster]

Crazy, He Calls Me

Cooper Howard could be described as a husband, father, and a prolific actor but what happens when it all starts crumbling under his feet and one of the only things to give him fresh air is you. His co-worker and one of his closest friends. Will everything including your relationship fail or will it be the one thing that survives even a nuclear fallout.

Authors Notes: HELLO ALL THIS IS MY FIRST FIC SO ANY CONSTRUCTIVE CRTICSIM IS WELCOME AND I HOPE YOU AAL ENJOY!!!! OH AND ITS IN THE FIRST PERSON.... Warnings: None!.... so far Muahahahahah MASTERLIST

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

Prologue~~~Reunion

The First time that i met Cooper was during the war while i was a medic. We never really said much expect a few polite waves and hello's that then turned into polite conversations and heartfelt talks.

After the war we came across each other on the set of A man and His Dog since i was a background actress. Seeing him on set took the breath from my lungs. How his bright eyes shined in the light and the charismatic way he talks to people almost pulling them in almost made me swoon over him. We made eye contact and he made his way towards me with that award winning smile and it felt like i was being brought back down and forced back into reality as he hugged me and asked about how I've been. That was the first time i felt anything other than friendliness for the man.

Month's later the bombs fell and i was in cryostasis and had no idea what happened to Cooper or anyone else i cared for. Until one day two hundred odd years later i was somehow no longer a frozen turkey.

Once i had figured out everyone was gone i left the vault with as much as i could carry and wandered the wasteland until i couldn't and when i thought all hope was lost he found me the one man i loved and thought was gone had came to my rescue or did he?.

[natty-light-of-my-life]

you are three one four me (pi day special)

summary: mechanic!reader celebrates pi day with their girlfriend in an unexpected way.

happy pi day, nerds!

The first thing you learn as a mechanic, often the hard way, is that the best designs keep it simple. The less complex a machine is, the fewer potential failure points they create. When you see contraptions with too many fittings, too few access points, and way too many dumb features, you know to stay far, far away. Well, you tried your best, anyways.

Working for Tony Stark, you’ve learned (often the hard way), is nauseatingly, annoyingly complex. The man was a genius. Weapons. Flight suits. He understood those concepts better than any other person on Earth, you’d reckon. You would trust Tony with your life on the battlefield. 

But not in the kitchen. Never again.

Friday, bless her soul, could control all the appliances in the kitchen, thanks to Tony’s integration of the AI with the Avengers compound. The AI could control the humidity of the room to a tenth of a percent. She could start running the faucet and fill the sink up with soapy water. She could place an order for the carton of eggs that you forgot to buy at the grocery store. It was great!

Except.

Except, sometimes, Friday would misinterpret a request. After all, a computer was only as smart as the programmer. And Tony, brilliant Tony, did not spend much time in the kitchen.

Which leads you to the current moment. The fire alarm screeched throughout the compound as you ran out into the hallway. The emergency lights flashed, refracting among the hazy, smoke-filled air. You ran towards the kitchen, where the smoke seemed to be heaviest, grabbing the red fire extinguisher from the wall. The floors were already damp, so you assumed that the sprinklers had been triggered. The smoke, however, had not stopped.

You spun around the kitchen, trying to locate the source of the smoke plume. Your eyes widened as you found the flames. The oven was on fire. A big fire at that. You knew the kitchen was all electric, so no natural gas, thank goodness. But still, the oven had somehow caught on fire while you were downstairs in the garage. You saw a bottle of wine broken on the counter, and next to that, a large grease fire where a jar of cooking oil was usually kept. 

If you weren’t drowning in smoke and coughing, you would have let out a string of expletives. Something your meemaw would not approve of and would make Steve blush. You coughed violently again before covering your nose and mouth with your shirt. You lifted the fire extinguisher and quickly turned towards the oven. Yanking the pin out, you took the nozzle and aimed quickly at the base of the fire. Squeezing the trigger, you generously doused the fire in a side-to-side motion. The smoke aggravated your throat and your eyes started tearing up from the heat. Of course, today would be the day when you were alone in the compound. Everyone else was at brunch. Whereas you were about to be turned into brunch. Toast. Char-broiled. Maybe they would serve you with a mimosa.

Eventually, you got the fire under control. With one last squeeze of the fire extinguisher, you snuffed out the last of the flames. You took a second to cough again and try to clear your watery eyes before you marched over to the patio doors. You jerked the glass door wide open, pausing to make sure they stayed in their position. Once you were satisfied that you had done everything you could, you went back to your room, grabbed your phone, and walked away. 

Not five minutes later, the sound of an approaching vehicle caught your attention. You were sitting on a bench outside the compound, trying to get fresh air into your lungs. It was working, but unfortunately your clothes had not fared as well. You were covered in soot and water and fire extinguisher chemicals. 

When the van arrived carrying Earth’s Mightiest Heroes skidded to a halt in front of you, the first thing you noticed was a blur of red hair engulfing your vision. She had jumped, out of a moving vehicle, mind you, and grabbed you by your shoulders. You stood still and gave her a little smile.

“I’m fine, Nat.”

She glared skeptically at you, “your voice sounds a little hoarse. I don’t know about that.”

Leaning down, you gave her a big, tight hug, “Don’t worry. Still at full strength, see?”. She grunted in annoyance, but you could hear the relieved sigh she let out. Her arms tightened around you.

“Glad to see you’re alive, MacGyver,” greeted Tony. You pulled away from your girlfriend.

“No thanks to you, Tin Man.”

“Me?” Tony gasped, “what did I do?”

You gestured to the building behind you. “Your kitchen caught fire, that’s what. And you didn’t equip your sprinklers to handle grease fires.”

Everyone headed upstairs as you explained what happened, and Tony’s face scrunched up in confusion.

“But why was the oven on in the first place?”

“No clue, Tony,” you shrugged, “I was in the garage all morning fixing Natasha’s bike. That she broke. Again.”

Nat chuckled, “Not my fault that those guys were shooting at me.”

“Um no,” Clint chimed in, “It was at least one-hundred and twenty percent your fault.” 

The Black Widow shrugged, “Occupational hazard.”

“I’m so sorry, guys, it’s my fault this happened!”

Everyone turned to Wanda, who shuffled in place and turned guiltily in your direction, “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“Uh,” you started, “no worries. The bike is fine! And we caught the bad guys last week!”

“No,” she shook her head, looking down at her feet, “the fire. I think it’s my fault. Before we left the restaurant, I told Friday to preheat the oven to three-fifty.”

You scratched your neck, confused, “that’s nothing abnormal. Did you have anything in the oven? I didn’t check.”

Wanda shook her head, “No. I had a pie in the freezer that I was going to bake when we came back. But I needed the oven to preheat first, so I told Friday to turn the oven on while we were at brunch.”

“I don’t see how a three-hundred and fifty degree oven could cause all that trouble,” frowned Bruce.

You pointed to the spilled wine and jar of cooking oil. “I think it was just smoke at first, but then the sprinklers came on and the water knocked over the bottle of wine,” your index finger trailed a path from the broken bottle on the counter to the oil, “The alcohol probably ignited, and the sparks lept to the cooking oil. I reckon that’s what happened.”

Bruce nodded, “Sure. But what caused the smoke in the first place? Wanda set the oven to a perfectly normal operating temperature. I don’t see why it would start smoking like that.”

You shrugged.

“Wanda, what did you tell Friday to do, exactly?” Tony asked, trepidation lacing his tone. You glanced over at him curiously.

“I sent a text,” Wanda responded, pulling out her phone and reading her latest message, “‘Friday, please set the oven to 350’”.

“Ah shit,” Tony sighed, bringing his hand to his face.

Natasha raised an eyebrow at the man, “Share with the class, Stark.”

Tony chuckled nervously, “Don’t get mad buuuut I may have set up Friday in metric units.”

You let out an exasperated breath, “Tony….”

“Totally not your fault, Witchy! But you maaay have accidentally set the oven to three-fifty degrees celsius.” 

Clint frowned, “Doesn’t water boil at a hundred degrees celsius?”

You pat the man on the back, “Yup. Tony’s dumb and American, but he made his AI smart and European. The oven was set to approximately six hundred degrees fahrenheit.”

Natasha flicked Tony’s forehead in retaliation. But soon, a thought crossed your mind and you perked up, “Wait, does that mean there is still pie in the freezer?!?”

….3.14159265359….

It turned out that Natasha heard about your affinity for the fourteenth day of March, a.k.a Pi Day. As a science nerd in school, you near-religiously celebrated the holiday with all sorts of circle-shaped foods like cookies and pie. She thought it was cute, and wanted to make your first Pi Day together memorable. So she enlisted the help of Wanda to bake your favorite pecan pie. She and the rest of the team had used the excuse of brunch to go to your favorite restaurants for cookies, pizza, and even a shepherd's pie. 

However, Tony’s programming hiccup meant that instead of a lunch filled with laughter and pie, you ended up on the floor of the kitchen, installing a new oven and repairing everything the fire destroyed.

“Babe,” Natasha said, poking your thigh with her foot, “you really don’t need to fix everything right now. Don’t you want to take a break after going through the fire?”

You mumbled, as there was a flashlight in your mouth as you laid on the floor under the cabinet, “Nuh-uh, thuh soonuh I fis this, thuh soonuh weh geth pae.”

Natasha scoffed from her perch on the other counter, “Oh sure, babe. There’s nowhere else we can get pie. It’s not like we live in one of the food capitals of the world.”

You slid out from the cabinet and removed the flashlight from your mouth, “Not meemaw’s pecan pie! There’s no way we can find a proper pecan pie up here.”

She laughed, “Meemaw would forgive you if you settled for a subpar pecan pie.”

You shook your head, putting on an exaggerated faraway look in your eye, “You haven’t met my meemaw, Natty. Don’t even mention y’alls yankee doodle pies at Christmas or we’ll have to break up. Her heart can’t take that type of betrayal.”

Natasha blushed. “Oh, I’m going to Georgia for Christmas this year?”

You stuttered, the tools in your hands knocking into each other as you sat up, “I mean yeah if you want. I assumed that. Well if –”.

The redhead laughed and leaned down to look at you, an adoring smile on her face, “I would love to go home with you for Christmas, baby.”

You beamed up at her.

She kissed the crown of your head, scrunching her nose at the cloud of smoke that lingered on your person. “But let’s survive Pi Day first, alright?”

You pulled her down from the counter and she dropped into your lap with a huff of laughter. You nodded in agreement and pulled your girlfriend into a kiss. Sweeter than pie.

[newtonsheffield]

Nooo! 🤣 Anthony, you are an actor. Where is your poker face? He says, "I can't tell you, she'll be mad" like of course the producer isn't gonna let it go now 🤦🏾‍♀️ Can we please get a scene of Kathani watching the video? Did Anthony tell her what happened right after he filmed it or did he just keep quiet until the inevitable happened?

Anthony has no poker face when it comes to Kate. He's like an excited little boy all the time. But I can't imagine it was a comfortable conversation when Anthony had to go back to Kate's little coffee shop and tell her that he one, announced their relationship to the world at large and two, told everyone he was carrying around her underwear.

Kate was suspicious as soon as she saw Anthony that afternoon. Watching him skulk in only a few minutes after she turned the sign on the door closed. Normally in the afternoon, fresh from a day of press he bounded inside not waiting for her to greet him before he had her wrapped in his arms and his lips were on hers. But not this afternoon.

Today he had his satchel hanging limply in his hand, his hair ruffled and he was watching her nervously. As though he were approaching a lion, rather than his girlfriend.

"Hey, big shot." Kate hummed, quietly, leaning across the counter for Anthony to kiss her quickly, which he did, Awkwardly and warily.

"Hey, Kate."

Kate narrowed her eyes. Usually, he was trying to scramble over the counter towards her, but not today. "Did your... thing not go well?"

"Kate I did something bad."

Kate's stomach dropped. the look on his face was repentant, his shoulders slumped, his hair a mess as he stared at her with his voice shaking and Kate couldn't stop the anxiety in her stomach from rearing its head.

He got bored of you. I told you he would.

"Right. Okay." It was almost all she could force out. "Um- Well, if you... look I'm not really... what happened?"

Anthony took a shuddering breath, his shoulders slumping. "I did one of those stupid what's in my bag videos."

Kate froze, in the middle of cleaning down the coffee machine, her brow furrowed. "O...kay?"

"And there was that picture you drew in there and I just... I was so proud of you and I love you so much and I showed everyone and I told them I had a girlfriend."

They hadn't really discussed this. But it hadn't exactly been what she'd thought he was going to say. She'd been in pictures Anthony had posted online before, always just off-frame. but her hand had appeared here and there, and some of her hair had tickled his nose in another and the comments were starting to build under his posts, she'd seen them. And while she wasn't ready for it, she'd known she couldn't keep loving him in the darkness.

Kate nodded slowly, "Okay. That's fine."

Anthony's eyes widened in surprise, "That's it? you're fine with it?"

Kate rolled her eyes, kissing his forehead quickly. "Well, I thought you fucked someone else a minute ago so yeah... I'm fine with it."

Anthony's mouth gaped. "I didn't sleep with someone else, I showed everyone your underwear!"

Kate whirled around, "You did what?!"

Anthony paled, "They were in my bag, and I- I panicked!"

"Well, fucking hell, Anthony! If you're going to show them to the entire world, You've lost wank knicker privileges."

"I suppose I deserve that."

"How long have I got before the entire world knows I give my boyfriend my knickers to wank into while he's away?"

"About a week."

"Oh great!"

And sure enough, the day after the video is posted on line she steps out of her front door to an entire circus.

[indigosunsetao3]

Would It Be Enough?

Chapter 14 - Spy Games

Masterlist of Chapters

Warnings: 18+ - No minors Rated E - Please read the tags on A03 for any of your triggers

Johnny "Soap" MacTavish x Original FMC 8.5k words - AO3 Link

Right on schedule, Ghost pulled up outside of the hotel in the black van. He didn’t bother getting out as Gaz clambered into the passenger seat and Crane loaded up the trunk with the duffle that Emma knew was holding guns and ammo. She on the other hand had to slowly make her way toward the car, the snow was deep enough that it covered her feet in the strappy heels and she twice had to tell Soap no to his offer to carry her. His and Ghost’s repaired issue was still too fresh and she wasn’t about to piss him off and risk it once again. So, instead, she climbed into the middle row, propped her feet up on the seat, and rubbed some blood back into them as the four men talked.

The drive back to the safe house was uneventful but all of them were on high alert as they drove, eyes darting everywhere as they talked. Emma even noticed Soap was sitting with his pistol out on his thigh, safety off but finger not on the trigger as if ready for someone to pop up in the middle of the road. Given everything these men had seen she wasn’t surprised by it, but it was still something to get used to herself. The snowstorm had kept most everyone inside at this early of an hour, their only company on the road a few stray dogs.

When they arrived at the safehouse Emma was quick to jump out and pick her way through the snow up the backsteps. Alex was there to greet them, the door flung open as he ushered them in and Emma nearly sighed at the warmth of the place. Someone had started a fire in the fireplace and she could smell fresh coffee in the kitchen.

“There’s some better clothes for you upstairs,” Alex said to Emma as he took in her flimsy dress and bare feet. “Price picked up a few things,” he explained quietly as if not wanting Price to overhear Alex talking about what he had done. Emma raised an eyebrow at that and Alex just grinned a little bit, “he’s a mother hen, don’t let him fool you. He knew you didn’t have anything that would be good for snow.”

“He’s not wrong,” Emma agreed, turning around as Soap brought up the rear of the group banging his shoes against the door frame to get rid of some of the snow before going back to Alex. “I need a shower first,” she stated “how long do I have before we brief?”

“Price said he’d be back by nine so about thirty minutes,” Alex stated after checking his watch, his eyes darting down to Emma’s legs where her cuts had begun to scab over. “Do you need help with any of that?” He gestured vaguely toward her, his face showing concern for her injuries.

“No stitches required,” Emma answered, “small victories I guess.” She could do her own stitches if push came to shove but it was always easier to have someone else take care of it. She knew all the men had basic medical knowledge, i.e., how to keep someone alive until they got to a hospital, but Alex’s file showed he had been through some medical training in his career. “I’ll see you all shortly,” she stated to no one in particular as she kicked off her heels to carry them, “save me some coffee.”

Emma went right up to the main bedroom where she had gotten ready the day prior and found a large plastic shopping bag sitting on the small bench in front of the bed on top of a puffy black jacket with a hood. Setting her heels down by the closet Emma pulled the bag toward her before emptying all of the contents onto the center of the bed and started sorting through everything. It was stuffed full of sweatpants, long-sleeved plain shirts, a sweater that was an obnoxious burnt orange color, and a black zipper hoodie. There were also thick socks and a pair of outdoor gloves that were fleece-lined and she spotted a pair of snow boots on the floor with the tags still on them that she had missed before.

“Price,” Emma muttered, feeling overwhelmed at his act of kindness as she folded things back up neatly, opting to grab a pair of sweats and the orange sweater. She had a feeling he had picked that one for a bit of color compared to all the black and grey and while it wasn’t something she’d pick for herself she was going to wear it to show her appreciation. As she was moving toward the shower the bedroom door clicked open and Soap appeared, his dress shirt was already undone and he was working on pulling it off his arms.

“I figured you’d already be in there by now,” Soap stated as he caught Emma halfway to the bathroom. “I was just going to change real quick,” he explained before pulling his undershirt over his head in a one-armed maneuver that made his back muscles move in all the right ways. “Don’t look at me like that,” Soap warned as he caught Emma staring unabashedly at him. “Get in the shower before we both get in trouble,” he winked before playfully snapping his shirt in her direction which sent her scurrying.

The water wasn’t as hot as Emma would have preferred but it was warm and helped to heat the deep cold she felt down to her bones. Taking her time Emma gingerly cleaned her legs and hands, looking over the cuts again in better light. Last night if she had access to her medical supplies, she may have thrown a stitch into one of the cuts on her leg but it was well enough along now it wasn’t worth going through the effort. When she finished and dried off, she could still hear movement in the bedroom so she pulled her on her clothes quickly and continued to towel dry her hair as she walked out.

“Oh, sorry,” Emma nearly squeaked as she quickly turned back toward the bathroom and made to disappear into it again. It wasn’t Soap out in the bedroom, it was Ghost. And he was currently shirtless picking through his bag for something else to put on.

“It’s fine,” Ghost muttered as he pulled a fresh long-sleeved shirt over his head, fixing his half mask as he did so. “I’m decent,” he added after a moment, looking at Emma’s back as she continued to stare determinedly at the tile floor of the bathroom. “I see you found Price’s shopping,” he tacked on trying to prompt her into a conversation and not be as awkward as she was.

“Ah, yeah,” Emma stated as she turned back around and plucked at the sweater. It was a bit too large for her, the neckline hung off one shoulder and the sleeves bunched at her wrist. But it was soft and comfortable, something she would have probably worn on a snowy day back home while she sat on the couch and read all day. “He didn’t have to,” she started as she reached up to hook the towel onto a hook on the bathroom wall before shutting the light off and walking fully into the bedroom.

“You barely brought anything that would keep you warm,” Ghost answered matter-of-factly, “a pair of jeans and t-shirts. You’d of frozen, those pretty little dresses Laswell sent aren’t much help either” he finished as he fished back around in his bag again.

“How do you know what I brought?” Emma asked but she knew she already knew the answer to that. She tried to tamper down the flash of anger at his blatant disrespect of her privacy, but she knew she had scowled a bit in his direction.

“I looked,” he said unashamedly as he produced what he had been looking for from his bag, small enough to fit into the palm of his hand so Emma couldn’t see it. “After all the shit last night,” he pocketed his small item then zipped up his bag, “Price wanted all of our stuff searched. Make sure nothing was planted on us, no microphones or GPS or some shit.”

Emma debated on the words before finally clicking the pieces together, “you told Price I had no clothes didn’t you.” She walked over to the bed and pulled the pile of folded items there, all of them were her size even the shoes. It was a simple act of kindness on Ghost’s part, he could have just not said anything to Price and let her freeze in her flimsy clothes, but he did tell him. He cared enough to figure out what sizes she would need and even picked up the detail she didn’t have winter gloves. “Why?” She asked after a moment, flicking her eyes up toward him as he stood there silently watching her.

“Like I said, you would have frozen out there,” he answered simply, before turning to head toward the hallway as a car door slammed shut close by. “Price’s back, I suggest you hurry up.” And with that, he was gone.

Emma stood in the silence of the room for a moment, taking in everything that had just occurred. Ghost was a difficult person to read, probably one of the more difficult people Emma had ever dealt with. He was always so cold and withdrawn, opting to watch from the sidelines and constantly calculating, barely speaking to anyone. But every once in a while, he showed flashes of humanity and even kindness though it was always on his terms and his way. Soap’s voice called up the stairs to her and Emma quickly moved to slip on some thick socks before heading down the stairs as well.

Everyone was gathered in the living room area around a folding table and Emma took the open seat between Soap and Alex, a fresh cup of coffee sitting there waiting for her. She tugged it toward her and peered inside, it looked like it was made how she liked it and she grinned taking a sip. Price was sitting at the head of the table on the phone, his fingers flipping through some pages before taking down a note and then sliding it to Alex. Alex quickly read it over before turning back to the monitors and computers behind him to pull up the coordinates on the map that populated.

“Emma, you start,” Price said as he hung up his phone and tossed it on the table. At that Emma quickly set her coffee cup down and looked at everyone staring at her. She had no idea just where to start, unsure of what they all already knew. “Just start from the moment you sat down with Mikhail, go over it all. We got the gist of it through your microphone but we kept hitting interference when you went into the office.”

So Emma began. She talked them through everything that happened in painstaking detail, having to pause and backtrack a bit as she remembered something. She covered everything Mikhail had done and said, from grabbing her hair in the booth to pinning her against a door, accusing her of being an agent, patting her down for weapons or microphones, and dragging her through glass before Soap came to her rescue. In the midst of her story Soap had adjusted himself so his leg was pressed tightly against hers under the table, a silent show of support from him that he always did when things were tough. Emma resisted reaching out and grabbing his leg under the table but she felt his fingers gently brush over her elbow as he adjusted his folded arms across his chest.

The men all listened, a few leaning in to jot down a note or interrupting her for a quick question or clarification. When she finished at them arriving at the hotel Price gestured to Gaz and he walked through his perspective, before Crane then finally Soap. Everything aligned and some gaps in Emma’s story were filled in, specifically what happened while she was up in the office. Apparently, Crane had packed quite a few knives, and he and Soap took out a few guards while Gaz went for his confiscated gun and the car, he had been the one to take out the bouncer at the door and drag him down an alley.

“The whole night wasn’t a waste,” Price said after Soap finished and they all sat in silence for a beat. “Ghost managed to infiltrate the penthouse, planted a few bugs, and picked up some intelligence to send back to Laswell,” he explained and Ghost nodded once before he produced a small flash drive and slid it across the table to Alex. That was what was in his bag upstairs that he had been digging out Emma was sure.

“They found a few of my plants,” Ghost said as he leaned back again and Alex took the drive to plug it into a laptop. “I laid out a couple of easy finds. They knew we were after them so let them think they found what they were looking for. They haven’t found my real pieces yet,” he smirked, Emma could tell by the way his mask moved and eyes crinkled a bit. “I also cloned their computers, whatever they see, we will see,” and at that, Alex turned the laptop around on the table for all of them to see. Someone was currently on it wherever they were and were going through files.

“We think they are hiding the weapons cache at those coordinates,” Price pointed to the monitor on the wall that had a map pulled up. It looked to be some sort of farm way outside of the city limits. “They’re spooked so we wait and watch what they do first. Ghost and I are going today to scout out the location, Gaz you’re with us on overwatch,” he nodded at Gaz who merely nodded back in answer. “Soap and Crane I want you both tailing Crane’s mark, stay out of sight because we still don’t know who Mikhail recognized. He’s supposed to make contact today with the North Korea militant militia leader in downtown, I want to know if they plan on sending the weapons to them.” Soap and Crane both looked at one another before nodding, Soap cracking his knuckles lightly under the table. He was itching to get out in the field after everything that had happened the night before.

Emma glanced around at the table, the only two people not mentioned were her and Alex. “You two are our eyes and ears. Keep an eye on the laptop and record everything you see,” Price explained. “If anything of significance comes up send it to Laswell. Keep your conversations over radio brief and none too specific,” he looked around the table at those words, speaking to everyone. “We should expect someone to try and get into our systems and the fewer details we give the better.” When everyone nodded Price extended his hand out to check his watch, “be ready to leave in forty-five.”

At that everyone that was leaving began moving, which left Emma sitting at the table just staring. Alex had gone back to the computers to pull up some information and scribbled it out before handing it to Price. “Pull up a chair,” Alex said over his shoulder to Emma as he scooted his own over a bit and pulled a keyboard toward him.

Emma didn’t have a chance to look at the whole setup the day before, too busy unpacking and getting ready to focus on it. Now she really took it in. It was a huge display of different monitors set into the wall, all of them showing different data and information, there were multiple keyboards, headsets, mouses and what looked like a switchboard to move between everything depending on what screen you needed. The front had folded down into a small desktop and Alex had it covered in post-it notes, torn pieces of paper, and multiple pens were scattered about as if he just kept losing one and producing another from his supply.

“Is this what you did all night?” Emma asked as she reached out a hand to pull a keyboard to herself and clicked a few buttons to see what monitor she was on. “This is something out of the movies,” she said more to herself as she reached out a hand to flip a switch to move to the next monitor.

“Pretty much,” Alex said as he pointed to a monitor for her to go to and handed her the headphones. “It’s overwhelming at first but you get used to it,” he waited for her to get the headphones on before flipping another switch, and the audio clicked through. She was listening to a man talking, it was innocuous chatter about the storm the night before but when he walked on the screen Emma felt herself stiffen. It was Mikhail. There was a small amount of satisfaction at seeing the cut on the side of his forehead where she had nailed him with the glass and what looked like a large black eye from Soap, but that was nothing compared to what he did to her. “You alright?” Alex asked as he looked between the screen and Emma, his hand landing gently on her forearm causing her to jump.

“Oh, yeah I’m fine,” Emma said as she looked around the desk for a notepad and pen. She figured she may need to take notes at any given second so she wanted to be prepared. Emma felt him squeeze lightly before he let go and went back to what he was doing. “So how do we listen to everyone and talk with them?” Emma asked after a moment, Mikhail had left the room and there was no sound aside from the heat running in the background.

“We’re going to be running off our regular coms on a secure channel so everyone will hear everything,” Alex said but still gestured to another switchboard. This one had a sticker with everyone’s name assigned under a button, “I could hear everyone but you all could only hear me when I selected who to talk to. Little easier when you’re undercover so you don’t have chatter in your ear constantly. It got a little chaotic last night though,” he grinned, “at one point I was relaying information at Crane but accidentally had Gaz’s mic on. He cursed me out royally when he got in the car because I apparently ‘distracted’ him.” He rolled his eyes before continuing to walk her through the different mechanics of everything.

The team was ready to go and gathered downstairs in the time frame that Price had given as Alex was finishing up showing Emma how to pull up different traffic and security cameras. Price, Gaz, and Ghost were in full tactical gear, though it was white compared to the normal beige and brown thanks to the snow the area had gotten overnight. They had weapons and magazines strapped all over them and Emma noted the large case that Gaz had which she knew contained a sniper rifle to help him scope out the area while Price and Ghost worked. Soap and Crane on the other hand were dressed in civilian clothes with large winter jackets on, without even touching Soap she knew he was armed under the jacket with at least two pistols and a few knives.

“We’ll drop you off on our way out, up to you to find a way back,” Price said to Crane and Soap and they just nodded. “Keep your eyes and ears peeled for anything,” Price then instructed Emma and Alex, “and not just on the monitors either,” he added. When both of them nodded as well he turned and headed toward the backdoor to head out to the van, pulling a white beanie over his head as he went. The rest of the men followed and Soap lingered for a moment and Alex took that as his queue to suddenly want another cup of coffee even though his cup was still half full.

“Be careful,” Emma said as she slid her headphones off her neck and stood up. “I mean I know you do this all the time but,” she shrugged a little bit, “I have to say it anyway.” When he grinned and reached for her she went to his arms instantly and let him crush her against him in a hug. As she suspected she could feel side holsters strapped to his body and even what felt like a larger gun somehow along his spine.

“I will, you keep an eye out for us, yeah?” Soap asked as he pulled back and tilted her head up to him. “I’ll be back after nightfall,” he added and Emma’s eyes widened. It wasn’t even lunchtime yet and nightfall was a few hours away. “Keep Alex on his toes,” he grinned and leaned down to kiss her, his hands cupping her face as he lingered for a moment before pulling back, “and I’ll see you soon mo cadalach.”

Emma grinned as he walked out, her hand holding his for a moment longer before both of their arms dropped away and he was out the door. Alex reappeared with a snack and pulled his chair out again, dropping a snack in front of Emma’s spot as well. “Nicknames now?” He inquired, smirking around his Danish before Emma nudged him as she took a seat again. “I’ve known Soap a long time and I can tell you; he doesn’t hand out pet names to just anyone, none of the women I knew at least,” he shrugged grabbed his headphones again, and got to work testing the comms to make sure everyone was live.

The hours passed slowly. Between quick conversations and exchanging of information between the teams Emma and Alex continued gathering data. Listening to Mikhail’s conversations proved to be very dull and Emma found herself yawning and doodling in the corner of her paper to keep herself awake. Alex told her to take a break when he caught it and she quickly rose from the chair to find them something for lunch and add more logs to the fire. When she walked back toward the monitors, she spotted a large gun that Alex had propped against the side of the desk and raised an eyebrow at him.

“Just because it’s called a safe house doesn’t mean it’s always safe,” Alex explained as he gratefully took the sandwich she had made for him. “Price always wants us ready for anything,” he continued before clicking on another screen to pull up a feed of downtown. Soap and Crane were leaning casually against a wall of a smoke shop, Crane puffing on a cigarette, as they watched their mark across the street. The man they were following hadn’t moved in over an hour and the sun was almost set. Finally, the man left the restaurant and got into a car which meant it was Emma and Alex’s turn to do something. They followed the car thanks to the GPS Soap had planted on it and it arrived at a hotel in the heart of downtown fifteen minutes later.

“Looks like he’s in for the evening” Alex stated as the car drove off again after the man exited with his bodyguard and bag. “Let’s call it for now, we’ll keep the camera on the front door and watch for any movement.” Soap and Crane responded stating they were headed back before Alex moved to check in on Gaz, Ghost, and Price. They had been mostly silent once they got into position and Ghost came back over the radio stating that security was high but there hadn’t been any movement in or out, they were going to wait a little longer hoping the false security of nightfall would draw people out. They were going radio silent until further notice.

“When Soap and Crane get back you need to go rest,” Emma stated as she sipped at her water glancing at Alex as he yawned hugely again and rubbed at his face. “Don’t even try,” Emma cut him off as he opened his mouth to protest, “you’ve been up for a day and a half at least. You’re still healing and still under my care,” she glanced up at a monitor when movement caught her eye but it was nothing. “I can watch this for a while, I’m sure Soap or Crane can sit with me, especially since we’re only having to stay on top of one team.”

“Fine,” Alex relented as he scrubbed at his hair, “but only because I am bushed.” He leaned back in the chair and crossed his arms over his chest watching everything on the screens, fighting to keep his eyes open. Emma continued to work beside him, listening to the idle on the monitors before a car pulled up outside. Alex was quick on his feet, all signs of exhaustion gone, as he grabbed the gun by the desk and went to the front picture window to look out the curtains. He kept the gun down at his side as he watched and Emma turned in her chair to look at him before he sighed, “just Soap and Crane. Looks like they found a ride,” he stated and shook his head, “they’re lucky that excuse of a truck even made it here.” He dropped the curtain and went and set his gun by the desk again just as the front door opened to reveal Soap and Crane.

“Snowing again,” Crane said as he brushed some snow off his jacket and shook some heat back into his limbs. “I bitched about the heat of the desert but I could feel my damn feet as they sweated to death, I haven’t felt my toes in hours,” he complained as he undid the laces on his boots and kicked them off. “I call the first shower,” he stated before Soap shoved him playfully in the back and Crane headed up the stairs peeling his jacket and shirt off.

“Go,” Emma stated to Alex who looked like he was about to take a seat back in his chair again. “We can handle the computer for a bit, you were fighting off sleep just sitting there a few seconds ago,” Emma finished as Alex shook his head.

“Just a couple hours,” he stated, looking between Emma and Soap, “I mean it. Don’t let me sleep for too long. You all need some rest as well.” Satisfied with Soap’s nod of agreement Alex too made to go up the stairs, not going nearly as fast as Crane and yawning the whole way.

“How was your day?” Soap inquired after Alex cleared the landing and they could hear him walking to one of the spare bedrooms. “Was it as riveting as mine?” He pulled his jacket and boots off before moving to stand by the fire to warm up a bit. The house was certainly warmer than it was outside, or at the hotel they had spent the night in, but it was still drafty.

“Just about,” Emma said as she glanced back at the monitors for a moment before going over to stand by Soap and slide her arms around his waist. “The most exciting part was tracking the car,” she muttered as Soap’s arm wrapped around her and pulled her tighter against him, “the movies make it look much more exciting.”

“They always do,” Soap agreed as he rolled his neck from side to side, holding his free hand out to the fire to warm it. “One day we’ll get you out in the field where you aren’t getting attacked, it’s a little more exciting,” he grinned and kissed the top of her head before reaching up to remove his earpiece and pulled the wire out from under his shirt. “I’ll be over in a second if you want to get settled,” he said as he unhooked one of his pistols and set it on the coffee table before the other.

Emma nodded and went back over to the desk, taking a seat on the hard wooden chair with a groan, and pulled her headphones back on again. She could see Soap behind her through the reflection of one of the darker monitors and watched as he pulled a few knives from his chest strap and waistband before discarding them and the other pistol. He then sent to work removing the whole hostler and rubbed lightly at one of his shoulders where the gear had dug in.

“I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be watching the cameras,” Soap said idly as he dug out a magazine from his cargo pants and threw it on the table. He wasn’t even looking at her but he had noticed that Emma was distracted from her job. Soap smirked as Emma quickly adverted her gaze back to the camera that was in front of the hotel before he walked over behind her and placed his hands gently on her shoulders. “It’s cute how easily distracted you are,” Soap mused as he squeezed, digging his thumbs into the soft skin to massage it.

“I don’t know if I should be offended or not that you aren’t the same with me,” Emma answered, groaning lightly at the massage. Her shoulders and back were stiff from sitting in the same chair for hours, her ass nearly went numb a few times.

“You just haven’t caught me is all,” Soap answered as his thumbs moved to run up the back of her neck to the base of her head and back down. “Trust me, I do, I’ve gotten caught a few times by the others,” he smirked and patted her lightly before moving to take a seat in Alex’s vacated chair. “Crane called me out today for smiling too much when you were on the radio,” he supplied before pulling the headphones over his ears.

“I’m going to lay down,” Crane yelled down the stairs into the silence, causing Emma to jump at the noise. “Gaz kept me up all damn night with his snoring,” he added before walking away not giving Emma or Soap a chance to argue with him. Not that either of them felt the need to, they were both tired as well but given the fact they probably had the best night’s sleep of the team, they weren’t going to fight them on it. Soap removed his headphones to listen to Crane’s steps before a door upstairs shut and it was silent once more.

“House to ourselves,” Soap grinned as he leaned on the desk to look over at Emma who was staring back at him. “Whatever will we do with it?” He asked, his hand darting out to tug at her a bit to pull her closer to him.

“It is not to ourselves,” Emma answered back, “they are just asleep upstairs. That could literally change any second,” she stated as she resisted his pull. “Besides we’re working,” she added, leaning away from him a bit though there was a smile on her lips, “Price and them are counting on us.”

Soap laughed, “oh we’re working now? I’m sure that’s what I said to you last night and you didn’t listen at all. You gave me every excuse under the sun to get me into that bed with you,” he grinned and grabbed at her this time, not letting her fight him off, as he dragged her into his lap. “Not that I’m complaining,” he added as he kissed her neck.

“Johnny,” Emma admonished as she squirmed in his lap, turning to face the monitors again. Her headphones were pulled tight from where they were plugged in and she removed them. “Work now play later,” she stated, narrowing her eyes a bit and zooming in on a camera only to realize the movement had been nothing more than a piece of trash in the wind.

“Nothing is going on,” Soap said as he pulled her back against him again, his arms wrapping tight around her middle to hold her there. “Ghost said they are radio silent for now, Crane’s guy is still in the hotel, and who knows if I’ll get you alone later. We can keep an eye on the monitors,” he went back to kiss her neck and felt Emma squirm a bit. “We’ll just need to be quiet is all,” he added as his hand found its way under her overly large sweater, his fingers dancing along her stomach. He waited for permission before going further though and when Emma turned her face toward him and kissed him, he knew the answer.

His fingers were cold against her skin as his second hand slipped up under the sweater and bypassed her bra completely. Emma let out a soft groan as his hands palmed over her breasts, letting her head fall back onto his shoulder as he pinched her nipples lightly. She arched up into the touch, pushing her ass back against his already hardening length, and smirked as he huffed into her ear. Reaching up behind her Emma grabbed at the back of Soap’s neck with one hand and craned her head to the side to prompt him to kiss her and he did just that, sucking and nipping at one spot as he continued his ministrations.

“I like these clothes on you,” Soap said after a moment, his hands pushing her bra up and over her breasts so they were free under the sweater, “gives me much easier access to everything,” he grinned and pinched her again before sliding his hands down her stomach to her hips. “These sweatpants especially,” he added as his hands plunged right past the waistband to dig his fingers into her thighs then suddenly stopped. “But, as you said, we should be working,” Soap stated, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke quietly to her, “so I guess I should stop,” he grinned and bit her ear lobe which caused Emma to gasp before he slowly pulled his hands back up her thighs.

Emma let out a soft whimper at his words and not too subtly spread her legs further apart as she rolled her hips onto him, taking extra care to push her ass up against him. “I can keep an eye on the monitors,” she said and felt his hands stop again. “Like you said there isn’t a lot going on,” she added, opening her eyes to look over at him. He was watching her carefully and kept his eyes locked on hers as his hands slid down to the sides of her thighs to pull them even further apart before his finger brushed right over the center of her.

“You sure?” He asked, gently rubbing a small circle, “you were the one who said we needed to work and Alex and Crane could wake up at any moment.” He was purposely dragging this out, making her eat her own words as he taunted her.

“Yes,” Emma breathed as she arched up toward his hand needing more than what he was giving her over the underwear. He took the hint and gently pushed the cotton material aside before sliding two fingers through her, humming at the wetness he found there. Emma let out a sound between a sigh and groan and she pushed even further against his hand, dropping her head forward a bit.

“Eyes on the monitors,” Soap stated and stopped moving his hand, “you stop watching them and I stop fucking you” he grinned and slipped a finger inside of her without warning. Emma let out a small gasp as she bit down on her lip but she kept her eyes locked on the monitors not wanting him to stop. “That’s a good girl,” he grinned as he felt her body clamp around his finger at the praise before adding a second finger, letting her rock her hips against his hand as he moved them in and out of her. “Tell me what you see,” he said as he added his thumb to the mix to gently rub circles over her clit.

“I, what?’ Emma breathed as she rolled her hips against him. It was hard to think of anything else besides his fingers inside of her.

“I need to make sure you’re paying attention,” Soap said as his free hand slipped back up under her sweater again to work at her breast. “Tell me what you see on the monitors, we can’t afford to miss anything,” he grinned against her shoulder as he waited for her to start talking. He could easily see the monitors himself but he liked listening to her attempt to breathe and concentrate as he worked her up into a frenzy.

Emma was a breathy mess as she started to describe the hotel front and Soap began to move his fingers faster into her and he felt her body beginning to tense with the anticipated release. She was breathing hard and fast and when he felt her flutter around him, he clamped his free hand over her mouth to silence her moans. He bent her back so she had her head on his shoulder as her back bowed forward and she bucked against him through her orgasm.

Emma was breathing hard through her nose as Soap kept her mouth clamped shut and she slammed her eyes shut finishing off her climax. She cut her eyes over to him after a moment to find him smirking and he pulled his hand out from between her legs and slipped his glistening fingers into his mouth. Emma cursed under her breath watching him and Soap popped his fingers back out with a grin, raising his eyebrows a bit as Emma’s pupils dilated.

“You like that?’ He asked after a moment, leaning in to kiss her so she could also taste herself on him. “I can’t get enough of your taste and I wasn’t letting that go to waste,” he smirked and bit her lower lip, tugging slightly. “Stand up for me,” he said after a moment and Emma quickly rose on her still shaking legs, her body vibrating with anticipation. She turned to look at him and caught as his hands worked over his zipper and button before Soap stopped and pointed for her to face the monitors again. Emma did as she was told but was listening hard to him as he adjusted himself to push down his pants and boxers before settling back into the chair again.

“What do you see now? Tell me about the penthouse,” Soap stated as his hands found her backside and grabbed at the sweatpants there to pull them down antagonizing slow, her underwear with it. He watched her shift her focus to another monitor, one that was closer to the desk as he got her pants down to her knees and then let go. Emma quickly stepped out of them as she talked, her fingers fisting as she tried to concentrate. Soap ran his hands up the back of her thighs before grabbing her ass and squeezing, his fingers kneading the skin as Emma rambled about the empty living room area that the camera was on.

Emma was struggling as she talked about what she saw, her breath catching as Soap’s hands kept getting dangerously close to her slickness. He was taunting her in the worst, and best, ways as he ran his hands between her thighs finding her skin damp there from her last orgasm. He reached up and pushed between her shoulders so she was bent over and supporting herself on her hands, her words stuttering as his fingers teased her again. He was just gliding his fingers forward and backward over her, going higher with each pass, spreading her slickness until it reached her backside, his thumb resting at that entrance for just a moment. Emma hesitated in her talking but after a brief second, she continued and pushed herself ever so slightly against him.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to,” Soap stated as his other hand gently ran up her spine. He stopped his demanding voice with her at the moment, wanting her to be comfortable and not feel like she was doing something just because she felt pressured.

“I didn’t say I didn’t want to,” Emma said as she turned her head to look back at him, “it’s just new,” she breathed as Soap gently circled his thumb over her and she huffed. “I’ll tell you to stop if I want to stop. We agreed to that last night,” she said and bit her lip as he replaced his thumb with his index finger and pushed lightly.

“Three taps,” Soap said quietly, his eyes darting down to what his finger was doing before back to her face, “you tap me anywhere three times and I will stop instantly.” He raised his eyebrow waiting for her agreement and when Emma nodded he smirked and gently pushed her face toward the monitors again. “Tell me about the painting,” he smirked and slipped his fingers between her legs to gather more slickness before going back to her asshole, adding a little pressure to push in slightly. She gasped and dropped her eyes for a second getting used to the feel before reciting everything she saw in the painting of the city landscape.

Emma was growing restless at the feel of him, how he kept going back to her clit and between her legs to gather more slickness before pushing into her backside with his finger. She wasn’t sure how far he had pushed into her but each time sent a new jolt of unease but also curiosity and pleasure down her. She needed him, now, her body was humming and when he moved to slip his fingers back into her pussy she grabbed his wrist to keep him there. She needed that release and she ground back into his hand as he did what she silently asked. “Johnny,” she breathed as he edged her to a second orgasm, she stopped moving not wanting to come again on his fingers. “Fuck me,” she groaned out and she felt him freeze at her bold words, “fuck me properly right now.”

His hands grabbed at her hips instantly and he twisted her around to face him before pulling her to straddle his legs seated in the chair. “I like when you're desperate,” Soap said with a grin as he scooted his hips down the chair a bit for a better angle before grasping himself with one hand and lining himself up with her entrance. Not waiting for her he used his other hand to pull her down hard on him, biting his own lip as she stretched around him and took him fully to the base.

“Johnny,” Emma moaned out into his shoulder as she began moving on him, grinding against him as he arched his hips up. It was different having all of your clothes on while doing this, there wasn’t that satisfaction of skin on skin as she pushed against him, but there was also the thrill of having to be quiet. His hand found her hip instantly and then he pushed back at her shoulder so she would lean away from him, her hands gripping the desk behind her to help her move.

At this angle they were staring blatantly at one another, their bodies picking up the pace as they went. Emma could feel herself wanting to moan and she bit down hard on her lip, enough to draw blood before two of Soap’s fingers found their way into her mouth. Emma sucked hard at them as he pushed down on her tongue. He groaned at the sensation, feeling her gag a bit around his fingers, but it was keeping her mostly quiet. He was about to adjust himself to lift her and take her over to the couch when a voice came over the headphones that stopped Soap dead.

“Echo three one, how copy?” Came Price’s voice, he sounded tired and irritated. Soap snapped his eyes up to Emma who had picked up on his sudden change and stopped moving. She had removed her headphones a while ago but Soap had kept them on just to be safe, one ear covered and one uncovered so he could hear Emma. “Echo three one, this is Price, how copy?”

“Price this is Soap,” Soap answered as he pulled his fingers from Emma’s mouth and pulled the headphones on fully, pressing the button on them to talk. Emma pushed up off the desk and moved to scramble off of him but he stopped her and grabbed her hips hard. “Echo three one is on a break,” he explained and Emma went to move off of him again but Soap held her fast and rocked her hips on him, a playful smirk on his lips.

“Soap. We’re on our way back, we’re about thirty minutes out. Is Sleeper there?” Price asked after a second. Soap’s eyes snapped to Emma and he reached for her headphones and slipped them over her ears so she could hear. “Yes sir, she’s here now, she was in the kitchen,” Soap said before waving his hand at Emma to get her to start talking.

“Price this is Sleeper,” Emma answered and then let go of the button to talk as Soap thrust up hard into her. She curled her lips into her mouth and shut her eyes to keep her composure, but Soap just continued as she struggled. She widened her eyes at him and mouthed the words for him to stop but he just ignored her and let his fingers gently find her clit again, all the while looking like he was determined to get her off while she tried to fight it off.

“Did we miss anything today with you and Alex? Anything of importance or did you hear from Laswell at all?” Price asked. They had been radio silent most of the day and Emma was cursing him for deciding now was the time to check in versus waiting thirty minutes to ask her in person. But time was always of the essence with these things so she couldn’t be too upset with him. How was he to know he had interrupted Soap properly fucking her into the desk?

“Nothing of importance,” Emma said as she fought to keep her breath even. Without her own evolution, her body started rocking her hips against Soap’s and he just dropped his head back a bit letting her ride on him. It was hard to not just fall apart at that, watching his face as she pleased him and feeling his fingers digging into her hips to resist letting himself climax. “We kept an eye on Mikhail most of the day, watched the club for any activity, and monitored Soap and Cranes’ movements,” her words were rushed and she let go of the microphone button to moan into her hand.

“Good,” Price came back over a moment later, he didn’t seem like he noticed anything was amiss. “Soap anything?” He asked a moment later and Emma pushed up off the desk to sit fully in Soap’s lap now, her feet planted firmly on the floor so she could bounce on him. Soap narrowed his eyes at her but Emma gave him an innocent smile, despite being bright red in the face for what they were doing. Turnabout was fair play after all.

“We trailed him all day sir,” Soap said as Emma grabbed at his shoulders and used the leverage to move herself on him. He was fighting hard to keep his composure, one hand controlling the microphone the other going to her backside to try and put up some sort of a fight against her ministrations and slow her down. “He met with the North Korean militia leader and we got some audio, but not much, nothing physical was exchanged,” he let go of the button again grabbed Emma by the back of her head, and forced her into a kiss so he could moan into her mouth.

“We didn’t get much but we’ll all talk when we get back,” Price stated before adding “over and out.” Then the radio went quiet.

Soap nearly ripped his headphones off his head, not caring where they fell as Emma pushed her own off, letting them fall to the floor with a clatter. “You’re lucky I can keep it together,” Soap ground out as his hands grabbed both of her ass cheeks and moved her on him. “Price would have both of our heads if he knew,” he admonished though it didn’t sound like he was truly upset with her.

“You started it,” Emma breathed before dropping her head onto his shoulder, letting him guide her to move how he wanted. He wasn’t being gentle, he wanted it hard and fast as he fucked into her, his hips jerking up from the chair as he pulled her down onto him. His fingers found her back entrance again and he rubbed a little more urgently against it than he had before, steering her toward that edge as he pushed his finger in ever so slightly. Emma bit into his shirt, breathing in to keep from screaming out as she came hard around him before Soap held her down as he climaxed as well, his head falling back as he groaned deep in his chest.

“Fuck Emma,” Soap breathed before laughing a bit, his hands sliding up under her shirt to rest on her lower back. “That was a risk,” he leaned in and kissed her a few times as his breathing started coming back down to normal.

“It was,” Emma answered before gently rising off him, wincing a bit as the burn in her legs from all the work she had just put in. “But I think you enjoy the risk,” she added as she bent down to grab her sweatpants. She would need to clean herself up this time, she was absolutely soaked between her cum and his and she saw Soap looking at the glistening wetness on her legs with a crooked smile.

“You do as well,” he merely added before he arched his hips up to replace his pants again. Somewhere upstairs there was the sound of creaking floorboards and Emma’s eyes quickly darted up to try and figure out if they were coming down the stairs or not but it sounded like they went to the bathroom as another door clicked shut. “Go clean up and we’ll get back at it,” he gestured to the monitors, “don’t need them getting back and thinking we were shirking our job.”