#echoing of peripheral in car

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Loop the song

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It could be a Broadway

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That 2025 Project

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Think of this here after!

[nadvs]

wish you’d ask me (one-shot)

pairing zach maclaren x female reader

summary you and your friend zach are on your way to a weekend retreat when suddenly, you wake up in the hospital with a concussion. zach is relieved you’re okay, until he realizes that you’re under the impression that he’s your boyfriend.

tags plot-flip of ‘the other zoey’ where reader loses her memory. college setting. friends to lovers. mutual pining. mentioned song is ‘red love’ by dream ivory (zach gives indie soft boy yfm). angst and fluff. no smut. hugs to my zach girlies @juniebugg & @nemesyaaa <3 divider credit.

» masterlist

››› friday

“Uh oh,” you mumble.

“What is it?” Zach asks. His gaze is fixed ahead, the snowy road a stretch of glittering white under the afternoon sun. You bring your phone up closer to your face.

“Chase just texted the group,” you explain. “Apparently, the furnace broke.”

“Uh oh,” he echoes.

“Exactly,” you say with a defeated laugh. “What now? Do we cancel? We can’t be out there all weekend with no heat.”

Zach checks the time on his dashboard to see you have thirty minutes left of the drive to the cabin you rented with your friends. The four of them are already there, waiting for you two.

“Nevermind,” you say. “Esha texted. The only thing broken is Chase’s sense of humor. I’m this close to throwing him outside and locking the door.”

You hold up your hand in a pinching motion.

“And she used this emoji,” you explain with a giggle.

Zach’s eyes drift to you, an endeared smile pulling on his lips.

“Appreciate the demonstration,” he says.

He reaches a red light and forces himself not to stare at you. He’s afraid that one day, his feelings for you will refuse to stay stuck in his heart and he’ll just blurt them out.

The past hour in the car with you has been a dream. Really, any time he spends with you is a dream. You’re usually all together as a group, so he cherishes the rare moments he gets to be alone with you.

He knows admitting his feelings to you comes with the risk of losing your friendship and fracturing the bond you both have in the group. But sometimes, it’s like keeping them in actually physically hurts.

“What’s your favorite emoji?” you ask. “No, wait.” You think back to the texts you’ve exchanged over the many months you’ve been friends. “I already know. It’s the guy running. Your version of saying on my way.”

“It’s efficient,” he replies with a shrug.

“Okay, so, what’s your second favorite emoji?” you say.

Zach laughs heartily and says, “You never run out of questions.”

“Do you mean that in a ‘you’re so much fun’ way,” you ask, “or in a ‘I’m too nice to say it, but shut up’ way?”

“Please don’t shut up,” he says in a rush. “You’re keeping me entertained.”

“It’s the least I can do after you stayed back for me.”

You were the only person in your friend group who had a class you couldn’t miss today. Zach offered to leave for the cabin with you, saying he had an important essay he wanted to finish this morning anyway, while everyone else drove up last night.

He had already finished that essay two days ago.

“It was no problem,” he replies. He means it. Nothing is too difficult for him if it’s for you.

“I’ll still pay you back,” you say. You stifle a yawn, fighting off the fatigue that’s been melting into you for the past hour. “What can I get you? What do you want most in the world?”

Zach chews on his bottom lip, pretending to think, when really, what he wants most in the world is sitting in his passenger seat, the prettiest and kindest girl he’s ever known, her gaze burning into him in his peripheral vision.

“A life-changing cup of hot cocoa,” he replies.

“Big ask, but you got it,” you agree with a laugh. “You can enjoy it in your grandpa pj’s.”

Zach smirks. A few nights ago, on a group video call, you amusedly pointed out the plaid button-up he was wearing in bed.

“They’re comfortable,” he counters.

“They’re still pajamas an old man would wear,” you tease. Your phone buzzes in your lap. “It’s Chase. Esha ruined my prank. Scaring us that we’ll freeze? What kind of prank is that?”

“He’s ridiculous,” Zach laughs.

The six of you met back when you were put together for a group project. You all got along so well that you started hanging out outside of class. Zach has grown to deeply care for everyone in the group. You, especially.

“I’ve been playing my music this whole ride,” you realize. “It’s only fair that you get to choose the songs for the last stretch.”

“It’s okay,” he reassures. “You’re a good dj.”

“For once in your life, stop being so nice and just play what you want,” you tease. “Since your phone is the GPS, we can keep using mine. Do you have any public playlists?”

He scratches his cheek, nerves filling his chest.

“You’ll make fun of me,” he says.

“Zachary,” you gasp. “When have I ever made fun of you?”

“Like, a minute ago.”

“Other than that.”

“Five minutes ago?”

You laugh again and Zach swears it’s the nicest sound he’s ever heard. Nicer than any song either of you could put on.

“My music is either workout stuff or just… sappy,” he admits.

“I’d expect nothing less,” you respond with a chuckle. “No pressure, but I promise, I won’t judge.”

He breathes a laugh and tells you his username, praying he can keep a straight face if the songs he listens to when he’s thinking about you play.

You tap on the playlist he titled ‘Relaxing’ and sink back in your seat as you gaze out the window. The glass is a little fogged, the world looking like it was dusted with powdered sugar.

The gentle guitar spills out of the speakers as your eyes travel over snow-covered peaks of evergreens that line the road.

Your heart pulls once you hear the song’s first lines, curious if Zach relates to them.

I’m the type of guy, trying not to fight

Not so perfect but I always try to bring the light

He’s easygoing and optimistic – that much is true. But not so perfect? If you had the chance, you’d tell him how perfect he is, over and over again.

Your eyes slowly flutter shut, lulled by the melody. You tell yourself not to daydream about the man sitting next to you when you’re certain he doesn’t feel the same way you do, but it’s easier said than done.

You can’t help it. The longer you’re Zach’s friend, the more you have to yearn for. You’re convinced he has the purest heart you’ve ever known.

But through the conversations you’ve had with your friends about your love lives, you’ve learned that Zach is a romantic, never nervous to pursue a girl he likes. And if he liked you, you’re sure he’d have told you by now.

When you swore Esha and Maggie to secrecy regarding your crush on him, they were confident he feels the same way. You still aren’t.

I don’t wanna feel insecure about a thing

But she makes me feel like I don’t even know what’s happening

Pull me closer and it’s like I forget what was wrong

The thought of pulling Zach closer, of making his insecurities and problems go away makes your stomach twist with warmth.

And then, you’re lying in bed with him, cocooned in a fluffy duvet, your hand on his cheek as you gaze at him. Your heart is full, the air buzzing with love. He worryingly asks you if you slept enough. You nod and he tells you how beautiful you are and you press your lips on his.

Sudden stillness stirs you awake. You meet his sweet blue eyes.

Oh. You fell asleep. And you had a dream about Zach so tender that your heart is still racing, your lips tingling from the kisses he never even gave you.

“Did we make it?” you murmur, tumbling back into reality, grounding yourself in the fact that you’re in a parked car, not a cozy bed.

“Not yet,” Zach says. “I wanted to make a quick stop. Sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

You look through the windshield to see a convenience store sign, the bottom skirted in translucent icicles.

“It’s okay,” you stutter, unbuckling your seatbelt. “It’ll be good to stretch my legs.”

Cold air pricks your cheeks when you step out of the car. Even though Zach has no idea what your subconscious just threw you into, it’s embarrassing to be around him after such an romantic dream.

You round the car and approach the front door, which Zach is holding open for you. In your daze, you realize you forgot your wallet.

“My wallet,” you say in a hush, turning back.

“I’ll cover it,” Zach offers.

But you’re already scurrying to the car. And then, you lose your balance.

.❅❅❅.

The weight in Zach’s stomach is catastrophically heavy.

You’ve been in a confused daze since your fall. And he’s worried sick.

He stands next to you as you sit in bed, blinking slowly. Since he helped pick you up off the icy concrete and drove you to the nearest hospital, you’ve been slowly coming to your senses.

The doctor comes in and asks a few questions. You get the first few right – your full name, your date of birth, your major, your address. All said confidently, even through the fog blocking your mind.

That’s a relief.

But then, you’re not sure what day of the week it is. You can’t tell her what you had for breakfast. And, most confusing of all, when the doctor asks if you know who he is, you say, “Zach. My boyfriend.”

He swallows hard, the word fluttering in his mind. Boyfriend?

The doctor runs a few tests, checking your coordination and reflexes, then offers a sympathetic grimace.

“You have a mild concussion. You’re not showing any serious signs I’m concerned about, but we should do a CT scan just in case.” The doctor looks to Zach. “Can you come with me to help book it?”

He nods, giving you one more worried glance before he trails the doctor out of the room.

After he tucks the appointment card in his wallet, he listens to the doctor’s instructions. Rest. Hydrate. Reduce stress. No screens. Come back if symptoms worsen.

“What if she’s remembering things wrong?” Zach asks. “I… uh, I’m not her boyfriend. We’re just friends.”

“Her memory will likely come back to her in pieces,” the doctor reassures. “It’s normal that things are jumbled. She’ll be fragile for a bit.”

“What do I do? Is it best for her healing if I play along?”

“The less stress on her brain, the better,” she says. “You can calmly tell her what she has wrong or let her believe the minor, harmless things until she’s herself again. I’m sure she’ll be better soon and you won’t even have to correct her.”

Zach’s chest strains in anxiety, worried that he’ll mess something up. The last thing he wants to do is impede your healing by stressing you out.

When he comes back into the room, your eyes light up in a way they never have for him before. He tries not to let it get to him.

“Hey,” you say lazily, gazing at him with adoration. “Is it booked? Can we go now? We’re so late.”

“That’s what you’re worried about?” he says softly. “You’re injured.”

You giggle, stretching your arm out. Hesitatingly, Zach steps closer, letting you warmly hold his hand atop the thin blanket. He feels guilty for enjoying it.

“Did you tell them what happened?” you ask.

“Yeah, I – uh, I…” He begins to stammer as you gently run your fingers over his knuckles. “I should update them, actually.”

He pulls away abruptly, taking his phone out, brows furrowed. A simple touch from you is overwhelming enough, let alone when you’re only doing it because you’re concussed and confused.

You watch him text, his expression tense. He’s always like this, so worried about you. You think back to a few days ago, when he was concerned you didn’t get enough sleep as you lazed in bed together.

“Relax,” you say gently. “She said it was mild, right?”

“Yeah.” Zach keeps his eyes on the screen, unsure of how to tell your friends you’re under the impression you’re dating. “You just need to take it easy. You’ll be back to normal soon.”

.❅❅❅.

You catch up on the group texts you missed after your fall when you settle in Zach’s car. You’re reading the last message, which is Esha saying something about seeing you soon when Zach turns on the engine.

You can’t quite make out the words. Then you realize Zach’s been trying to talk to you.

“What?” you say.

“You shouldn’t look at a screen,” he says gently.

“Right.” You lower your phone. “I can barely read right now anyway.”

“Can you put your seatbelt on?”

“Yes.” You turn, the motion suddenly making you dizzy. Your eyes pinch shut and you hold your head with a pained sigh.

Zach has never been more upset at himself. He’s supposed to be taking care of you. The doctor called you fragile. He’s already messing up.

“Sorry,” he says. “Just relax, okay? I’ll take care of it.”

He leans over, pulling your seatbelt into the buckle. You keep your eyes shut, feeling his forehead brush against your cheek, enjoying the warm, rich fragrance that’s so Zach.

You might not remember everything, but you remember how much you love the way he smells.

“Thanks, baby,” you murmur and plant a kiss on his temple.

Zach’s stomach goes wild with butterflies. Heavy guilt sets in again. He can’t go on like this. It feels wrong to play along.

He pulls back and you look at him past heavy lids.

“We should talk,” he says, “about our friendship.”

He has no idea how to navigate this conversation. The doctor said to correct you calmly. There’s nothing calm about the way his heart is pounding right now.

“We haven’t told them, have we?” you ask. “I can’t remember ever acting like a couple around them. Is that what you mean?”

You think he’s talking about your friendships with the group waiting at the cabin.

This might be the best way to do this.

He’ll let you believe that you’re keeping your relationship under wraps. He’ll avoid any opportunity to be alone with you until your mind is straight again. And eventually, it’ll come to you that you and him aren’t actually together.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We have to act like we’re just friends in front of them.”

“Why’d we decide to do that again?” you ask.

Zach nervously taps his knee.

“Malek had a really bad breakup,” he explains. “We didn’t want to rub it in his face.”

“Oh, yeah,” you say. The memory comes to you, choppy but clear enough. “Dumped via text. Poor guy.”

He flashes a relieved smile. It’s reassuring that you remember something that happened a week ago.

“Right,” he says. He puts the car in drive. The sooner he gets to the cabin, the sooner he can stop putting on this act. “We should get going.”

.❅❅❅.

Your friends are quiet and reluctant to come too close when you step into the cabin.

“Guys, I’m fine,” you laugh.

“How are you feeling?” Maggie asks, wide-eyed. “Do you remember me?”

“Of course,” you say. “It’s just a headache now.”

“You should sit down,” Zach urges behind you. He puts down the bags he brought in from the car that he refused to let you carry.

“It feels like I’ve been sitting all day,” you say. “Except for the part when I fell.”

“So, we can joke about it?” Chase asks with a grin.

“No,” Zach says. “Too soon.”

You look at him over your shoulder, chuckling.

“I think Zach’s more traumatized than I am,” you say.

“What happened exactly?” Esha asks, waving you in.

You step further into the cabin, struck by the enormous living room windows. They present a stunning view of snowy hills and picturesque cottages under the setting sun.

If it weren’t for the stubborn ache pulsing in your forehead, you’d want to explore more of the cabin. But Zach’s right. You should sit down. That walk from the car was enough exercise. You’re already dizzy again.

“It’s my fault,” Zach replies. “I stopped at some random store and that’s where she fell.”

You meet his eyes, heart breaking at the pained expression on his face. You wish you weren’t putting on a farce right now, because if you could do what you wanted, you’d pull him into a hug.

“It’s not your fault I don’t know how to walk,” you joke.

“You fell in the store?” Chase asks.

“Parking lot,” you say. “To get my wallet. Even though Zach said I didn’t need to. So, technically, it’s on me.”

You can tell by the look on his face that he’s not convinced. He’s blaming himself for this entirely.

You sit down for dinner, downing the water Zach encouraged you to drink, while he catches everyone up on how to help support your healing process.

“How do you know all this?” Maggie asks. “Concussions from playing soccer?”

“I asked the doctor,” he clarifies.

When you’re sure nobody’s looking, you reassuringly squeeze his knee under the table. He tenses up under your touch.

.❅❅❅.

After dinner, you’re bundled up in a blanket on the plush living room couch as flames crackle in the stone fireplace.

Nobody has allowed you to lift a finger. Every chore, down to putting away your dinner plate, has been taken over by one of your friends encouraging you to rest.

Zach’s on the other end of the sectional, tapping his fingers against the armrest. You remember that it’s something he does when he’s nervous. Why is he nervous? And why does he have to be so far away? You’re pretending to be just friends, but simply sitting next to you wouldn’t be suspicious, would it?

You know you’re not yourself. Your thoughts are muddy and patchy, but you’re already feeling much better than you did at the hospital because another memory suddenly blooms in your mind.

“Hot cocoa,” you say. Five heads turn to look at you as you point at Zach. “I owe you hot cocoa for staying back to drive me.”

“Yeah,” Zach says, his dimpled grin making your heart skip. “Your memories are coming back.”

You nod with a bright smile. At this moment, as he gazes at you from across the room, he realizes just how much he worries about you, he thinks of the kiss you left on his skin, and he accepts that he was wrong.

He’s not falling for you – he’s already in deep, completely enamored with no hope of pulling himself out.

.❅❅❅.

After you brush your teeth, you pad downstairs to the kitchen before you head to sleep in the bedroom you’re sharing with the girls.

You’re walking back through the dimly lit house when you hear the floorboards creak under someone’s weight. Zach rounds the corner at the bottom of the staircase.

“Hi,” you say sweetly. He towers over you and your eyes drift down to the red and black flannel he’s wearing. “The famous grandpa pj’s.”

“Yeah,” he laughs, happy you remember yet another thing.

His chest twists, conflicted because he enjoys the familiar comfort of being alone with you, but is also anxious in case you still have the wrong idea about the nature of your relationship.

“Proud of me for hydrating?” you ask, holding up the cup of water you just got for yourself.

“Very proud.” He walks past you. “Sleep well.”

You’re confused. It’s unlike him. You remember enough to know he’s typically kind and talkative.

“Hey,” you say, turning to look at him. He meets your gaze, lips slightly parted, visibly tense. “What’s wrong? You don’t really blame yourself, do you? I’m fine.”

His lips curl into a frown. He’s not convinced.

“Please don’t worry,” you continue softly, stepping towards him. “You’ve been taking such good care of me. You’re the best friend a concussed girl could have.”

Friend. Does that mean you no longer think he’s your boyfriend? Have you forgotten about the whole thing entirely?

Before he can ask to be sure, he realizes you were being playful with the word, because you quickly look over your shoulder, then unexpectedly pop up on your tiptoes to plant a kiss on his lips.

“I made sure nobody saw,” you say in an amused whisper. “Good night.”

You rush upstairs, an electric current zipping through you even though you’ve kissed him a million times before.

Zach is standing still in the hallway, heart hammering, blood running hot. He’s lost count of how many times he daydreamed about kissing you. Now, he felt your lips against his for real, and his mind and body are a jumbled mess.

There’s a chance you like him back and now feel uninhibited to offer him the affection you’ve always wanted to give him. Or you’re just confused and you’ll be horrified to learn that he let you believe you’re dating when you were dazed and vulnerable.

If your memory isn’t solid by tomorrow, he’ll have to correct it himself. And he can only hope he won’t ruin your friendship in the process.

››› saturday

You’re walking towards the kitchen, the taste of toothpaste fresh on your tongue. You’re glad you woke up with a much clearer mind. You remember more of yesterday; it’s almost a complete picture in your head.

Zach and Malek are sitting at the breakfast table, cradling mugs of coffee. Zach’s eyes dart away from yours the moment he sees you. It makes your heart sink.

“Hi,” you say to them.

“Morning,” Malek replies.

“Feeling better?” Zach asks.

“Headache’s gone,” you answer. He nods, but doesn’t look at you again.

He’s been acting weird and you’re not sure if it’s just guilt over your fall. The memory of you lying in bed with him a few days ago is so clear. What happened between then and yesterday?

You must have had a fight that you’re forgetting about. You’re sure Zach would be selfless enough to pretend that you’re on good terms while you’re concussed, but he can’t hide that he’s on edge.

“Bad sleep?” you ask, looking down at his drink. “You only drink coffee when you’re desperate.”

His eyes finally find yours again, softening when they do. It’s the early morning and he’s wearing sweats and a hoodie and his dark honey hair is a tousled mess, yet he still looks so handsome and it feels unfair to not be able to kiss him.

“You remember that, too,” he says with relief. “Anything else come up?”

“Nothing that feels important,” you admit with a shrug. Disappointment flashes over his features and you chew on your lip in saddened confusion.

Zach hates seeing the hurt on your face. He needs to have this conversation now and get it over with.

“Do you want to get some fresh air?” he asks.

“That sounds nice,” you answer.

“You’re insane,” Malek says. “It’s like the North Pole out there.”

“Exactly,” you reply with a laugh. “It makes you appreciate being inside even more.”

.❅❅❅.

You stand side-by-side on the snow-covered balcony leading out to the back of the cabin, bundled up in your coats, hats, and mittens.

“It’s so pretty out here,” you whisper, gazing out at the frozen lake hugged by patches of trees.

“It is,” Zach says. His breath comes out in a small puff of fog as he ruminates over how to tell you what he needs to tell you.

“All that ice,” you mumble, “and so many different ways to fall on it.”

He cracks a smile.

“Still too soon to joke about it,” he says.

“Even I don’t get a free pass?” you chuckle.

You reach for his hand, feeling his warmth through your mittens. Zach clears his throat and pulls out of your grasp.

“There’s something I haven’t told you,” he begins. His cheeks redden. “And please hear me out. I was doing what I thought was–”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupts him. You both look back to see Malek ambling out onto the balcony with his hands stuffed in his coat pockets.

“Maybe you guys are onto something,” he says. “We didn’t come all the way out here not to appreciate the views, right?”

He stands between you two and despite the tension, you and Zach share a smile, knowingly both irritated yet amused at your friend’s clueless intrusion.

.❅❅❅.

When you head back inside, everyone else has woken up, loudly chattering in the kitchen. You’re pulled into a conversation with Esha and Maggie while Chase asks Zach to help him with starting the fire.

It’s hard to absorb the words your friends are saying after the way you and Zach left things a few minutes ago.

“Can someone turn on some music?” Maggie eventually asks. “I left my phone upstairs.”

“Sure,” you offer.

“No screens!” Esha shouts.

“It’ll just be for a second,” you laugh. You connect to the speaker. When you realize you have an unfamiliar playlist open, you curiously scroll through the songs.

Zach comes back into the kitchen, dusting off his hands.

You tap on the first track in the playlist. A slow, gentle song buzzes from the living room.

Then, it hits you like a wave.

This song played in his car on the way here. You dozed off listening to it. You woke up from a dream.

A dream.

Zach isn’t your boyfriend. He never was.

The puzzle pieces have finally snapped together, and the picture isn’t pretty.

You stare at him, the realization harsh and unsettling. The possibility of a fight you forgot about had run through your head, but the fact that you were never even together is startling.

Zach can see it immediately, the discomfort on your face. He thought he wanted you to figure it out on your own. Now that you have, he regrets not telling you the truth right away.

“Uh, my… phone is about to die,” you stammer, stopping the song. “Be right back.”

You leave the room, and while everyone else carries on conversation, Zach’s heart is in his stomach. He messed up. Possibly irreversibly.

He trails behind you, whispering your name as you rush up the stairs. You turn to face him once you reach your bedroom, nearly breathless.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you ask, the embarrassment wringing out your insides.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “Can you sit down? You need to take it easy.”

“Zach,” you assert. He sighs in worry.

“I was about to tell you outside, but then we got interrupted.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me right away?” you say. “I… oh, my God. I kissed you last night.”

Zach rakes his hand through his hair as you step back and exhale in disbelief.

“The doctor said I shouldn’t stress you out,” he explains. “I didn’t want to confuse you or embarrass you–”

“Too late,” you interrupt with a note of sadness.

It’s a punch to Zach’s gut seeing you so upset because of something he did. He’d actually prefer a real punch right now. At least then, he’d know the pain will fade. The guilt filling his chest feels like it’ll be there forever.

“I – I was doing what I thought was best,” he says. “She said you were fragile and it freaked me out and I promise, the last thing I want to do is upset you or mess with your healing.”

You can see that he’s in distress, but so are you. You spilled your heart out to him, you touched and kissed him while under the impression that you shared a love that wasn’t there.

“Please don’t think I’m a creep or something – I just – I honestly didn’t expect that kiss,” he admits. “I would’ve stopped it if I did.”

You have to look away. Why would he have stopped it? Because you weren’t in your right mind? Or because he wouldn’t ever want you to kiss him?

You hope he has it in him to at least admit if he feels anything for you. This is the time to do it after you embarrassed yourself so immensely. You stare down at the floor, silently praying that he’ll reassure you.

Zach’s throat tightens. Seeing you like this makes his shame so overpowering that his eyes start to burn with tears.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats. He steps out of the room before you can see him cry. He doesn’t want to make this about him. He wants to give you space.

You’re left standing alone in the silence, your heart cracked right down the middle.

.❅❅❅.

Zach doesn’t let his gaze linger on you for the rest of the day. He’s terrified he’ll have to face his fear of losing you.

What’ll life look like without you? You met and then all of a sudden, you became a ray of light in his world, always able to make him smile, always on his mind. He can’t stomach making you uncomfortable. You looked so disgusted that he went along with a lie.

After dinner, you’re all sitting in the living room and helping Maggie set up a board game. That’s when Zach finally allows himself to look at you.

You’re sitting in front of the fireplace, quietly reading the instructions to yourself, lips moving with the words. Worrisome curiosity gnaws at him, eager to find out if your mind is clear again.

“Does reading still feel weird or is it okay now?” he asks you from across the room.

“Oh – yeah,” you say, caught off guard. You haven’t spoken since your fight this morning. “It’s okay now.”

“Where have you been, MacLaren?” Maggie laughs. “We established she’s back to normal like three hours ago.”

“Do we need to check your head?” Chase jokes.

Zach forces a laugh. He’s been too lost in his thoughts to absorb himself in the conversations happening around him all day. The possibility of making you uncomfortable simply by being in the same room as you is too heavy to ignore at this point.

“Maybe,” he says. “I should probably turn in.”

“What?” Malek shouts. “I was going to kick your ass at… what’s this game called again?”

“You can kick my ass later,” Zach mumbles, standing up. “Sorry, guys.”

“Lame,” Maggie sighs.

You keep your gaze on him as he leaves the room, but his eyes stay on the floor the entire time.

.❅❅❅.

You gently knock on the boys’ bedroom door, listening to your friends’ enthusiastic competition-fuelled conversations echoing from downstairs.

It’s been fifteen minutes since you started the board game and two since you purposely knocked yourself out of it. You excused yourself to take a shower, but your intention was always to come up and talk to Zach. Even though you’d left things so tense, you need to make sure of one thing.

“Yeah?” His voice on the other side of the door is muffled. You step into the dark room, the hallway light spilling in.

“It’s me,” you whisper into the dimness. “Sorry. You’re not sleeping, are you?”

“No. I can’t,” he admits. You hear a mattress creak. A light turns on with a click. Zach’s standing by a lamp, almost looking wounded.

You step inside, shutting the door behind you, nervous as you settle on the edge of one of the beds. He sits on another bed and faces you.

“I don’t think you’re a creep,” you say. “I just had to make sure you know that, okay?”

Zach lets out a shaky sigh. He purses his lips, nodding slowly, and when you see a shine pool over his eyes, you still.

“Thanks,” he breathes. “I hated the idea of you thinking I took advantage of you or something and I didn’t want you to feel like you had to be around me if you–”

“What? Zach, no. No way.”

When he quietly sniffles, you’re certain he’s holding back tears. You knew he was sensitive, but witnessing him cry over the possibility of making you uncomfortable stings. Especially since he surely felt awkward with you touching him and kissing him, and still played along for you.

He doesn’t deserve to feel like this. You shuffle over, sitting next to him on his bed.

“Listen, I was just really embarrassed,” you say, desperate to console him. “I still am, to be honest.”

“It’s okay,” he says. “You don’t have to be. You were injured.”

“Yeah, but… how would you feel if you ran around kissing me just for me to tell you I never wanted you to?”

Zach’s jaw tenses. Is that what you think? That he doesn't want to kiss you? God, he’d spend all day kissing you if you let him.

“I’ve been thinking about it,” you continue, “and I get why you went along with it. I know you were just looking out for me. Sorry that I got so upset.”

“Please don’t be sorry,” he says. “I’m the one who should apologize.”

“We’ll never agree on this,” you say with a quiet laugh. “We’re good, okay? I’m gonna go take a shower and if you’re up for it, you should go downstairs. I’ll come down after and make you that cocoa I promised.”

Zach laughs, genuine and warm, and it makes your heart feel like it’s floating.

“Cool,” he says.

“Cool,” you echo. You stand up, almost out the door when he stops you.

“Hey, can you…”

“What?” you ask.

“Just… be careful in the shower. Don’t slip.”

“I’ll be fine. Jeez, you fall on your head one time,” you quip. He laughs. And his smile doesn’t fade for a while after you leave the room.

.❅❅❅.

You’ve just washed the soap off your skin and are about to turn the water off when you’re plunged into darkness. Standing in the tub, naked, completely blind.

For a moment, you’re afraid this is a symptom of your concussion. But then you realize the power must have gone out. You feel for the tile wall, pushing the shower curtain to the side, more nervous to fall than you’d normally be.

“Hey, you okay in there?” Zach asks through the door. He’s nearly breathless. As soon as the lights went out, he raced up the stairs in worry, using his phone flashlight as a guide.

“Yeah,” you call. “Did the power go out?”

“Yeah,” he says. “Do you need any help or anything? I can get Esha or Maggie.”

You smile to yourself in the dark, not surprised that he’s being so considerate of your comfort. You feel for the robe you left on the counter and wrap yourself in its warmth, then open the door.

Zach’s standing in the hallway, phone flashlight aimed at the floor, concern etched into his face.

“Do we know what happened?” you ask.

Seeing you fresh out the shower feels oddly vulnerable. This is an intimate state for him to witness you in, but you’re not nervous at all, and it’s reassuring to have the hard proof that you’re not uncomfortable around him.

“I think it’s the wind,” he says. “It must have knocked a power line down.”

“Uh oh,” you reply in same way you did when Chase texted about the furnace breaking. He chuckles. At least he can find comfort in the fact that you really do remember everything.

“I’ll get dressed and meet you down there,” you say. “Thanks for checking on me.”

“Of course.”

The lights are still out when you come downstairs in your pajamas. Your friends are huddled around the fire, amber lights and gray shadows casting over their faces and on the walls. The crescent moon gleams in the cloudy sky past the massive windows.

“Were you at least at the end of your shower?” Esha asks with a defeated laugh.

“Yeah,” you say. “I was just about to get out when the room went dark. I was scared my concussion came back.”

“That’d be great timing,” Esha jokes.

“Right? While I’m naked in a tub,” you laugh, settling on the floor next to her. Zach is glad nobody’s looking at him right now, because his cheeks are burning at the mention of you being naked. “Did anyone message the owner?”

“Yeah,” Maggie says. “He’s not answering, but I don’t know what he could even do. I checked online and the whole grid is out. I think we’ll just have to wait it out.”

“Chase cursed us,” Esha says.

“How is this my fault?” he asks.

“You tempted fate with your stupid joke yesterday,” she replies. “The furnace broke. Now everything is broken. Are you happy?”

“Honestly, thrilled,” he replies. “Pretty cool to have the power to control the weather.”

You continue to chat with your friends, feeling the temperature in the cabin slowly fall. Before you know it, it’s been half an hour and the power still isn’t back on. You’re shaking from the cold.

Zach notices the way you’re curled up, arms wrapped around your legs, surely colder than everyone else since you just showered.

“We should keep the fire going,” he says. “I don’t think the power will come back on any time soon.”

“What happened to the annoying optimism we’ve grown to know and love?” Maggie asks.

“I told you guys, I traumatized him when I fell yesterday,” you say. “I broke my brain and his.”

“No offense, but I probably would’ve laughed my ass off if I saw you fall like that,” Chase jokes.

“That’s why I’m glad I was with Zach,” you retort. He smirks to himself as he builds the fire, hoping it’ll radiate more heat for you soon. “I bet when my memory was messed up, you would’ve convinced me that I owed you money or something.”

“Shit,” Chase says. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

“Shameless,” Esha mutters. “Guys, I think we’re going to have to sleep here in front of the fire. I bet the bedrooms are freezing.”

“Aw, it’ll be like a real sleepover,” Maggie says excitedly. “Let’s do it.”

You’re all in a fit of laughter as you bring mattresses and pillows and blankets down the stairs, already sure that this is going to be a cherished memory. What happened yesterday has given you a new perspective on life, a realization that something as simple as your memory should be appreciated.

And it’s also made your crush on Zach even deeper. He’s done nothing but look out for you, down to pretending to be your boyfriend to ease you into your healing. Now that the embarrassment has faded, you feel guilty that you were ever upset at him.

The six of you lie in front of the crackling fire, wrapped up in duvets as the wind howls outside. You’re closest to Zach, your back inches away from his chest. As you gaze at the flames, you think about the way his lips felt on yours last night.

No wonder you felt so stunned after kissing him. Your mind didn’t know it was your first kiss, but your body did. The thought that it was also your last kiss makes your stomach sink. He’s had every opportunity to tell you if he likes you. He hasn’t. You’re just a friend to him and nothing more.

“Who wants to bet on when the power’s going to be back on?” Malek asks. You hear the click of him unlocking his phone. “It’s 11:30 now. I don’t…”

He suddenly stops talking.

“Did he die? I’m too tired to turn around and check,” Esha says.

“My ex texted me,” Malek says.

“Don’t fall into the trap, man,” Chase says. “What’s done is done.”

“What’s it say?” Zach asks. He stares at you as you lie in front of him, backlit by the fire.

“She’s apologizing,” Malek says. “She wants to get back together.”

“No,” Maggie says sternly. “She dumped you over text, dude.”

You listen to your friends chat, your eyelids growing heavy. Admittedly, you’re worried you’ll dream of Zach again. Having his heart in a delusion just to wake up and realize it’s not really yours hurts too much.

You shuffle your feet to get comfortable, accidentally bumping Zach.

“Sorry,” you whisper over your shoulder. “Was that your kicking foot?”

“Yeah,” Zach replies. “You just blew my entire season.”

You giggle quietly, tightening your blanket around you. You wish you could hold on to a shred of hope that eventually, your feelings for him will fade. The sinking feeling in your gut tells you that’ll never happen.

.❅❅❅.

A harsh droning pulls you out of your sleep. Your eyes squeeze shut, then flicker open when you realize someone is snoring. Loudly.

“Who is that?” Esha whispers into the pitch dark. The fire must have died down.

“Malek,” Chase mutters. “He sounds like a fucking dragon.”

“Malek,” Esha whines. His snoring suddenly stops and you figure she must have kicked him awake.

You chuckle to yourself, gently shuffling in place. That’s when you realize you’re up against a warm, firm surface, your nose brushing against the comforting fragrance you love so much.

You’re cuddled up to Zach. You pull back an inch, your entire body tense.

“How’d I get here?” you try to joke in a whisper. “Sorry.”

“Stay,” he mumbles sleepily. He pulls you in by your hip, squeezing gently in his daze. Your heart thrums and you obey, giving into what you want most.

››› sunday

You can feel the brightness of the sun behind your eyelids. The air isn’t cold. The furnace is buzzing. The power is back on.

You gain your bearings and slowly sit up. Everyone else is still asleep. You smile in admiration as you look at your sleeping friends. You love them all so much. You turn to see Zach, his lips in a cute pout, and you accept the fact that you love him, too, in a deeper way.

Friends. You’re friends. You’ll keep telling yourself that until your heart believes it.

You quietly make your way to the kitchen, determined to cook a big breakfast for everyone. Five minutes pass before Maggie walks in with a tired smile, commenting that something smells good.

“Sit down,” you invite her. “Coffee? Tea? I’m making a thank-you breakfast.”

“What for?” she asks.

“You all took such good care of me,” you say.

“Yeah, because Zach basically threatened us to when you first got here,” she laughs. “I’ve never seen him so intense. Last night, when the power went out? He booked it upstairs to find you. He’s been so worried about you.”

“Yeah, I think he still feels responsible for me falling,” you say.

She sits up to look over the wall into the hallway to check that the coast is clear, then waves you closer. You turn off the range and sit next to her.

“I think it’s more than that,” she says.

“No,” you say with a small laugh. “No way.”

.❅❅❅.

Zach shuffles awake, exhaling deeply. He drags his hand over the blanket next to him, looking for you before he realizes that’s what he’s doing.

It felt so nice when you turned towards him in a half-asleep daze, nuzzling your head into his chest. It took him a while to fall asleep simply because of how hard his heart was drumming.

He steps over his sleeping friends. Then, he hears a hushed conversation getting louder as he heads down the hallway.

“...think so?” Maggie says.

“No,” you respond. “Okay, I wasn’t going to tell you and Esha until after we got back, but… I was so out of it at the hospital that I thought he was my boyfriend and… he actually went along with it.”

“What?” she says.

You’re talking about him. He’s about to clear his throat to announce himself and pretend like he hasn’t heard anything, but then he hears your next words.

“I know he didn’t want me acting like that with him, but he tolerated it just so I wouldn’t get freaked out when I realized my memory was messed up,” you confess. “He was so awkward about it after. Trust me. He does not like me back.”

Zach slowly steps back towards the living room and goes up the stairs, trying to absorb what he just heard, trying to make sense of the fact that you not only truly think that he doesn’t want your affection, but also that you’re genuinely disappointed about it.

Back. You don’t think he likes you back.

This might just be the happiest he’s ever felt.

.❅❅❅.

You love how pleased your friends look at the breakfast spread you’ve made for them as they trickle into the kitchen.

“It’s a good thing it was so cold overnight,” you announce. “Nothing in the fridge went bad.”

Zach is the last one to come in and your heart, the traitor, skitters when you meet his striking blue eyes. How long until you can look into those eyes and not think about how it feels to be held by him, how it feels to kiss him?

“Sleep well?” you ask to make casual conversation. He settles in the last empty chair at the table.

“Yeah. My old man pajamas are really toasty,” he says.

You nod, skin buzzing. Does he remember cuddling you in the middle of the night? By the way his eyes linger on you, you think he just might, and in this simple, small moment, you feel a pinch of hope that he feels the same way you do.

You glance up at the clock hanging above the table to see it’s just past nine, leaving less than two hours before check-out. You try to enjoy the last little bit you have with your friends before you split up to clean and leave the cabin the way you found it.

.❅❅❅.

The cabin is spotless, the cars are packed up, and you’re hugging your friends goodbye as light snowflakes gently fall from the white sky.

You’ve been giddy with anticipation at the thought of having an hour and a half drive back to campus with Zach, even though he left such a confusing knot in your chest. Despite everything, he’s still a friend you love to spend time with.

“Have a nice drive!” Chase says as he heads towards Esha’s car, raising his brows at Zach.

After breakfast, Chase had asked him to join you two on the ride home to have more space than he would have sharing a backseat with Malek, but Zach apologized and told him he’d rather not.

When Chase insisted he tell him why, Zach didn’t see any reason to keep it in any longer. He admitted to liking you and said he’d finally tell you on the way home.

“Bold,” Chase had said. “And if she doesn’t like you, too? That’ll be like, the most awkward car ride ever.”

“I’ll take the risk,” Zach replied with a smile.

.❅❅❅.

“Wow,” you say as you drive out onto the main road. “I never made you that hot cocoa, did I?”

“You didn’t,” he says, pretending to be deeply displeased.

“Will you ever forgive me?” you play along.

“I’ll need to do some reflecting first,” Zach replies. You laugh, relieved that you two are joking like old times before this past weekend through you for a loop.

“Fair,” you say. You plug your phone into his speaker system. “Let’s see if I can unlock any other memories. And don’t tell me it’s still too soon to joke about it.”

Zach chuckles, cocking his head.

“I’ll let it slide,” he says. “I woke up in a good mood.”

“You’re basically always in a good mood,” you respond.

Zach can understand why you’d think that. It’s because he’s never been in a bad mood around you. Life is bright and easy and rich when you’re around. And it’s been even richer since he overheard what you said this morning.

“We passed a waterfall while you slept on the way up here,” Zach says. “Would you want to make a stop to check out the view?”

“Yeah,” you agree, pushing away the reminder of what you’d dreamt about during that nap. “Sounds cool.”

.❅❅❅.

Crystal blue water rushes down in an endless torrent, crashing down to the surface with a dull roar. You’re in awe of how ethereal the waterfall is, white mist bubbling over the stream bordered by snowy land. The snow is still falling gently, the atmosphere cool but not cold, as if the earth is apologizing for the windstorm last night.

You and Zach stand at a height behind a railing, his car parked a few feet away on the side of the road. He purposely slowed down so your friends would drive far enough ahead to not notice you’d made a stop.

Now that he’s here, he’s painfully nervous. Worst case scenario, you’re not interested in dating him, and it’ll lead to, like Chase said, the most awkward car ride ever. He’s sure the remaining hour journey back to campus would feel like ten hours if this goes wrong.

But he’s always been optimistic and last night as he fell asleep with you in his arms, he thought back to every moment in your friendship when he had a spark of hope that he had a place in your heart like you do in his.

Over the months he’s known you, he got into the habit of trying to dull the spark, reminding himself of how much he had to lose if you didn’t return his feelings.

Deep down, he always knew he’d eventually give in; he has so much love to give you and the thought of keeping it contained when you might want it was getting harder to bear.

You could break his heart if you don’t want him, but it’d break his heart even more if you do and he doesn’t do anything about it.

“Wow,” you say in a whisper, taking a photo of the waterfall with your phone. “I shouldn’t post this, should I? Our friends might be mad that we didn't include them.”

“I think they’ll understand,” Zach replies. “I told Chase… uh…”

You lower your phone, looking up at him, unable to stifle your smirk because of how cute he looks from the way the breeze has messed up his hair. The road behind you is clear and quiet, the mid-morning sun offering mild warmth.

“You told Chase…?” you say.

Zach licks his lips, his mouth gently opening before he finds the words. He shifts to face you, eyes searching your pretty features, heart in his throat.

“I told him I wanted to be alone with you,” he says. “I didn’t mean to eavesdrop this morning, I swear… but I… I do like you. Back.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. You look down at the snowy concrete, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“I heard you right… right?” Zach mumbles.

“Back,” you repeat softly, finding the bravery to look back up at him. “Yeah. That’s what I said.”

A sweet, honeyed smile grows on his face. He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the exact way you’d dreamt he would. How you always wanted him to, but convinced yourself he wouldn’t.

“I didn’t tolerate you acting like we were dating,” he says. “I liked it and I felt bad for liking it because it wasn’t real.”

You mirror his smile, your heart full of love and joy and the comfort that he’s been giving you since the day you met him.

“I was just doing what I always wanted to do,” you confess. His eyes glint with endearment as he brings a hand up to gently cup your face.

“I really enjoyed being your pretend boyfriend,” Zach says, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as you look up at him through your lashes. “Can I be your real one now, though?”

You sigh softly, nodding as he stares at you in nothing short of infatuation. He leans closer by a half-inch, silently testing if you’re okay with it.

You close the distance and your lips meet with a sweet, gentle tenderness like they’ve done this before. You pull back, remembering that they have.

“Can we count that as our first kiss?” you say.

“Absolutely,” he chuckles.

››› one week later

You’re stepping out of the kitchen in Zach’s apartment, tightly gripping the tray of six mugs filled with hot cocoa.

“Whoa,” Zach says, quickly standing up from his spot on the floor when you enter the living room. “Careful.”

“Her concussion is gone, man,” Chase says. “You have the test results to prove it. She can handle carrying a tray.”

“He’s helping her because he’s a gentleman,” Esha states. “Do you know what that word means or are you committed to being a caveman forever?”

“Caveman,” he repeats with a grin.

“Don’t give him any,” Esha mutters. “He doesn’t deserve it.”

You laugh as you set the tray down on the coffee table with Zach’s help. You settle in your spot on the couch as Zach sits on the floor in front of you again, tucked in between your legs, the insides of your knees pressed against his shoulders.

“I have to say, I called it,” Maggie says as she gazes between you and Zach with a big smile on her face. “Tell everyone how I called it.”

“You called it,” you say, putting your hands on your boyfriend’s broad shoulders, gently squeezing.

Her eyes dart to Esha and you share a knowing grin. You’d had private conversations about how if you and Zach were always a little obvious, Esha and Chase are the definition of the word.

“Ow,” Malek snips, holding the steaming mug away from his face. “I burned myself.”

“It’s hot cocoa, Malek,” Chase says. “It’s literally in the name.”

“Really good, though,” Malek says, giving you a thumbs up.

“Thanks,” you laugh.

The tray is eventually littered with empty mugs and you stand to clear away the mess, your heart glowing with the feeling it always has when you’re surrounded by your friends.

You’re scrubbing a soapy sponge over a mug when you hear Zach’s voice behind you.

“You don’t have to wash anything.”

You look over your shoulder, smiling.

“It’s okay,” you say. He approaches you, hugging you from behind as you stand at the sink, surrounding you in his warmth as your friends talk a room away.

He always enjoyed moments of privacy with you, but since that day by the waterfall, every second with you is more than perfect.

“So?” you say. “Did you get your wish? Was the cocoa life-changing?”

“Ask me again what you asked on the way up to the cabin,” he murmurs. “What I want most in the world.”

“What do you want most–”

“You,” he interrupts. You laugh breathily as he kisses the side of your neck. “I just couldn’t answer honestly the first time you asked. But it was always you.”

You turn the faucet off and tilt your head back, looking up at the ceiling with a smile on your face as he leaves kisses on your neck and holds you tighter.

It was always him, too.

(the end)

[ttsukiimi]

❛ I FVCKED MY BODYGUARD! ❜

୨୧⋆ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬  ⎯ Toji fushiguro is nothing but a bodyguard—or at least those are the words you keep telling everyone including yourself. But when you’re under him, moaning his name, can you really say that?

୨୧⋆ 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬  ⎯ bodyguard!toji fushiguro x actress!reader, smut (mdni), n!pple sucking & n!pple play, implied size difference, slight manhandling, softdom! & bigd!ck!toji, unprotected sx, mentions of ichiji, reader referred to as (doll, baby, princess)

'Famous actress 'suki' ttsukiimi facing backlash after allegedly being seen in public holding hands with her bodyguard! Fans step forward with pictures as proof!'

Your eyes rolled as you saw the news headline, and you wondered if someone actually sat down and wrote it.

For starters, Toji Fushiguro was nothing more than your bodyguard—and, of course, he had to accompany you in public because that was his job! And, while the holding hands aspect appeared incriminating, he was merely doing it to keep you steady as you went through the crowd.

You made an effort to clear your head for the upcoming night, but your mood soured with bitter irritation. Thoughts of Toji suddenly sprang to mind as you were trying to declutter your mind. You couldn't help but wander off to the feeling of his big hand encasing your smaller one, the waft of his cologne into your nostrils as he walked beside you and tried his best to politely push people out of the way.

He was just perfect in every aspect—tall, muscular, intimidating, you couldn't count how many times you'd wanted a simple touch from him to lead to something else.

Your phone snapped you out of your daydreaming, the chime of your ringtone echoing throughout the almost empty hotel room. Quickly, almost embarrassingly so, you read the contact's name, and inwardly smiled to yourself. Just who you wanted.

"Hello?" your sugary voice rung throughout the speaker. Toji could feel himself heat up from your voice alone, imagining the way your plump lips moved as you talked, and he cleared his throat.

"We're waiting for you outside, doll. Hurry up, yeah?" he mumbled, letting his hand hang back on the car's headrest.

You let out an acknowledging hum, not daring to speak with the way you clenched your thighs together—his tone and the deepness of his voice alone sending a shock of electricity through you. Not to mention the pet name.

Soon enough, you met with Toji and your chauffer, Ichiji, outside. You'd made sure to wear something risqué, and both men were more than glad to gaze at you through their peripheral, though toji made no attempt to hide his staring. 

The ride to your wardrobe stylist was silent, save for a few impatient grumbles from toji on how long the ride was going to take. He could really act so immature sometimes.

୨୧

You stepped out of the room, velvet material clinging to your body like second skin and gleamed at Toji. "What do you think?"

His throat congealed with breath. You appeared breathtaking; the stylist having done a phenomenal job of selecting dresses that accentuate your complexion and emphasize your curves.

Toji gave a playful suck of his teeth. "Eh."

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your phone on a nearby table and checked the time. It was almost time to get going.

"Tojii, please help me choose. Y'know I can't rely on Ichiji." That, however, was a lie; if anyone was aware of actress-appropriate style, it was him .You merely wanted a justification to continue showing Toji yourself in small little dresses. Not that he couldn't admit he liked watching you do that.

Once again, the scarred-lipped man sucked his teeth. "Go with the black one, with the back cutout, I guess."

୨୧

It was finally time for the nomination. Toji grinned to himself as he saw you on stage, light sparkling in your eyes, making you appear ethereal. You competed with other actresses for best of the year.

The announcer began to speak, her voice sweet, but not as much as yours, he reasoned. And it would be an understatement to say that Toji, and the entire audience, were upset not to hear your name.

"Who the fuck even is that?" he whispered under his breath, but his eyes softened as he noticed the smile on your face when you heard your name for the second time.

Everyone's eyes were drawn to you as you strutted over to receive your award, fascinated by the glow you emitted, and the audience erupted in cheers. Toji let out a small cheer just for you.

When the event was finally done and the paparazzi and bothersome interviewers had left, you let out a sigh of relief. Toji took your hand and guided you to the waiting limousine, opening the door for you.

You hoped this wouldn't cause another news headline.

"Thanks," you mumbled before succumbing to tiredness and falling asleep, letting your head rest on his shoulder.

When you awoke, you were comfortably positioned on your hotel room's bed, with the blankets warming your restless body. Your initial inclination was to search around for Toji, but there was no sign of him. You sprang out of bed and began searching for him, only to find him just as he was about to leave.

He tilted his head. "Did I wake you?"

You shook yours. "No, I—Can you stay?" The sentence slipped through your lips before you could catch it. Your eyes widened and your cheeks burned with embarrassment, even more so when you timidly looked up at him to find him smirking.

"Doll." he hummed, walking towards you, making you look at him with a finger under your chin. "When are ya gonna just say it?"

Your heartbeat skyrocketed, not only from the contact and closeness of his huge body, but also from the look on his face.

"If you wanna fuck just say that."

Your knees buckled under your weight, Toji catching you in his arms. You both looked at each other's lips and back up, and in his arms, you felt like you were under a trance.

Lips soon collided. One kiss led to a make-out session, and that led to you being manhandled and thrown onto the bed. Toji crawled on after you, the angry erection under his black slacks poking through.

Your eyes widened in shock. "Toji.."

He hushed you with a quick peck, the unfastening of his belt and zipper sounding throughout the room. "Open your legs."

His hands lit fires on your skin as he slid them down to your thighs, spreading your legs further apart and whistling at the wetness gathered on your folds. "You're soaked baby. Ain't even touched you yet."

You whined and looked away, breath hitching as he teasingly gathered your slick on the tip of his cock. Toji clenched his jaw as he pushed the head in, everything in him resisting from thrusting everything in—knowing how small you were compared to him.

Who knew he'd be fucking the person he was supposed to protect?

"Breathe, baby,"

Nodding, you tried your best to follow his order. But, when he started moving, you completely lost it.

Strings upon strings of moans poured from your mouth, your legs locking around his waist as he found a pace. And even though to you his pace was pleasurable and a bit too much simultaneously, he was holding back.

Toji hadn't fucked such a greedy cunt in years, with the way you were sucking him in, it felt like you wanted to suck him dry. He hit your sweet spot easily with each thrust, groaning as he snaked his hands up your torso and pulled the neckline of your dress down to reveal your tits to him. "Knew they were pretty."

He leaned his head down to suck on your pebbled nipples, driving his girth in and out of you painfully fast now. Switching his attention to your other nub, Toji rolled your previous nipple between his fingers as he suckled on it.

Your back arched up into his touch and gave him more access to your body. "'S too much!"

"You'll take it," he rasped into your ear, hitting the spot that had you seeing stars so effortlessly it felt criminal. Your vision filled with white and blurred, liquid heat rippling through your lower stomach.

You gasped as you hadn't felt such euphoria in years, your job not leaving much time for love affairs, or for any affairs at that.

"I Think 'm close,"

"Ya think, princess?" he chuckled, deep and booming in your ear, his rhythm cruel and harsh on your poor, sensitive pussy.

Toji could feel himself slowly being hurled towards the edge of his high, and he could feel yours too with the way you clamped extra tight down on him. 

"C'mon, baby. Cum on my cock." he ordered, and your body instantly complied with his words. Your back arched further off the sheets, a broken cry bubbling from deep within your chest as you climaxed.

Toji's high came teetering soon after yours, and he made quick work of pulling himself out and letting his seed spurt over your stomach and tits. Your bodies were both messy and sweaty, and he appreciated the sight under him.

You had completely soaked the sheets, and Toji took pride in knowing he was the one who made you.

With a drawn-out sigh, he plopped down beside you.

"You think they'll write news about this too?"

"So you also saw that, huh?"

[honeyhaeya]

(💝)🖇 ༘ ⋆"Apology Accepted"

' ╰┈ "they say only fools fall in love. well, they must've been talking about us"

' .☘︎ ݁˖' '김민규 x gn!reader

🎧ྀི 'ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Honeymoon Avenue (Ariana Grande)

♫⋆₊˚ ﾟ. 'ᴠᴏʟᴜᴍᴇ : ▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮▮

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ genre / tags: husband!mingyu x gn!reader, angst (minor & resolved), fluff, marriage, slice of life ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: mentions of divorce, arguments, silent treatment, mingyu snapping, and that's just about it. lmk if i missed smth ! – this has no smut ✩‧₊˚ wc: 999 – drabble ੈ♡ a/n: this fanfic is contrived for my beloved wife: @jjjjeonww ★ ly, always. i sosososo lovee ariana grande these days. oh, and taglists are open ! if you want to be tagged in my latest works, consider taking my created form :> (tap the underlined, it will redirect you to the forms) "we're gon' be lost if we continue to fight. honey, i know, yeah. we can find our way home" – highlight from honeymoon avenue ★

you and mingyu had a heated fight. to the point that neither of you noticed it getting bigger and how serious it became.

it started with something small — when mingyu forgot to water the flowers that the two of you had been trying to grow. he said he just forgot because he was busy and that he was still trying to adapt to the watering schedule.

you thought it was yet another excuse he was giving, until you brought up every single mistake he’d made over the past few days. one when he didn’t take the trash out. another when he used your soap and dropped it in the toilet.

and mingyu? he defended himself like his life depended on it, giving every reason he could for his mistakes.

until he couldn’t take it anymore. he snapped.

“you’re not perfect, are you? you’re noisy. just shut up.”

you didn’t expect it. neither did he. those words coming from his mouth — and he looked like he’d seen a ghost the moment he said them.

“w-wait, i didn’t mean that,” he stammered.

you just exhaled through your mouth and nodded. maybe he was right. and it hurt more than you thought it would.

you weren’t mad that he said the truth. you just had to shut up. give him space to breathe from your restlessness.

but mingyu thought the exact opposite.

he screwed up. that’s what he thought. the moment you entered your room, the soft shut of the door echoing, he imagined you bawling in tears. he saw the divorce papers right in front of his eyes.

mingyu bit his lower lip hard, trying to think of a way to fix this.

it had to be something grand. something that would drive you away from even thinking about a divorce.

if he had to apologize, he had to do it now.

mingyu grabbed his car keys and went straight to the nearest flower shop he could find. he bought a bouquet of your favorite flowers and a bunch of gardening tools to help grow the perfect one.

then he drove to the designer store to buy that bag you’d been eyeing every time you visited together. it was expensive, but it didn’t matter — not compared to the thought of losing you.

still not enough.

so he drove to the convenience store and bought all the ingredients you’d been craving for the past few days.

on the way home, his fingers tapped nervously against the steering wheel. his thoughts were in a frenzy.

as he entered the apartment, he looked around the living room. you were always there around this time. but not today. not in the kitchen either.

there was only one place you could be — the bedroom. of course. you were thinking about divorce.

he went to the kitchen before his spiraling thoughts could swallow him whole.

he chopped, sautéed, cooked. and after, he plated it all like a gourmet chef — as if offering you the whole damn world. the perfect dish. a glass of wine. then the bag and bouquet.

when he entered the room, you didn’t look at him — not at first. but your peripheral vision caught something strange. how the heck did he carry all of that?

your eyes widened a little as he approached.

he cooked the meal you’d been wanting. bought the bag you’d secretly been admiring. and the flowers — the reason this all started.

you looked at him, confused, but the corners of your lips tugged into a smile.

“mingyu, what is this?” you asked, now fully smiling.

when he saw the sparkle in your eyes, he felt like he was on cloud nine.

“this is me trying to get you back,” he replied, sweat still dripping from his forehead from running around all day.

you reached up and wiped it. “i’m sorry, baby,” he added, leaning into your touch.

he set the things on the bedside table and you just smiled.

“gyu, i didn’t ask for this,” you said, wrapping your arms around him, your head resting on his chest. “you were right. i just had to reflect on how i treated you.”

you felt his arms tighten around your waist.

“so... no divorce?” he asked, letting out a relieved sigh when you chuckled and hit him lightly.

“no, dummy,” you said with a smile. “where’d you get that thought? that didn’t even cross my mind. i just... i had to know my wrongs. you’re right. i’m not perfect, and i don’t have the right to belittle you just because you make mistakes.”

you leaned back to look at him.

“i’m the one who should be sorry,” you said, locking eyes with him.

and in that moment, mingyu’s breath hitched.

“i’m so lucky to have you,” you whispered, before leaning in to kiss him.

mingyu literally melted.

when you pulled away, you grabbed a spoonful of the food he cooked and shoved it in your mouth. the next thing he knew, you were feeding him too.

“you’re crazy — this bag is expensive,” you said, hitting his arm, your mouth still half-full. you looked at the bag on your lap like you still couldn’t believe it was yours.

“don’t talk when your mouth is full,” mingyu scolded, and you hummed, finally swallowing.

then mingyu smiled.

“i don’t want to lose you,” he said, handing you the bouquet.

you smiled back. “stupid... i won’t ever try to even leave,” you replied, looking like you were on the verge of crying and laughing at the same time.

the two of you looked like teenagers in love again.

then mingyu tackled you, tickling your most ticklish spots. you were giggling, trying to kick him away, and suddenly everything was just... the way it always had been.

“apology accepted,” mingyu whispered, leaning back to look at your flushed face and glowing smile.

how could he not forgive you?

honestly, it didn’t even matter anymore whose fault it was.

then, he kissed you. quiet, unhurried, and passionate.

a/n: thankyou for reading !! i honestly can't thank y'all enough for the 700+ followers i got ㅠㅠ road to 1k followers, babies ! loveyall mwa, kisses, xoxo, sincerely yours, aeya.

taglist: @gyuhao365 @kpoplover-19 @archivistworld @smiileflower @kpoppiesofinternet

[leiswxrld]

𝐅𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐀𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧

pairing: Dealer!Abby x Camgirl!reader

synopsis: you’re a college student when you suddenly ran out of your fix of weed and your normal dealer is out of town so Ellie your closest friend gives you abby's number a well-known dealer on your campus but all you'll be getting is the weed right?

warnings: MDNI, 18+, pussy eating (r receiving), weed, smut, car sex, fingering (r receiving), reader is 20, praise + degradation (baby, princess, slut, mama) , dirty talk.

a/n: haven't wrote lesbian smut before but anything for abby she is so mf fine, also another thing to mention cam girl only gets mentioned once but might make it an actual thing.

credits: @cafekitsune @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for line dividers ❥

Abby Fucking Anderson.

She was the college's well known dealer and was always known to be selling drugs towards the back of the parking lot. You would see her black Mercedes parked out back and only caught a glimpse of her, she was well built, dressed in a black tank top and a pair of baggy shorts to go with it.

Her hair was always in a braid or down no in-inbetween and you barley saw her face, you'd occasionally smoke when you were stressed about the amount of assignments piling up and your last dealer was out of town so you knew he wouldn't be back for another month or so and you were desperate for some weed.

So when you ask one of closest friend's Ellie she gives you Abby's number and your now sat in the dark in your room conflicted, deciding whether or not to message her but with a rush of confidence you send her a text, watching the delivered message on your screen illuminating your room.

'You still selling'

A few minutes pass by as you're scrolling on TikTok, the anticipation killing you as you kept checking the message over and over again. Your eyes widen as you saw that she had seen your message and she began to type, the three dots appearing on your screen before a loud ding echoed in the silent dorm.

🍃 'Yh sorry was just with one of my boys if you want I'll be out back you've seen my car right'

You read the message, tapping on the back of your phone thinking of what to reply with before your typing away,

'The black Mercedes right'

She's reads it, the three dots appearing once again

🍃 'Yh meet in 5, you go to the college right'

'Yh I do'

🍃 'k meet in 5 yh'

'alr' ❤️

Abby likes your message and you turn off your phone, what were you doing, yes you were desperate for a quick fix but to go to Abby you were fucking nervous about even though you had never seen her face or even talked to her eye to eye.

You quickly dressed into the quickest thing you could find, a black skirt and pink top that was thrown onto your basket from yesterday and you grab your keys and phone, sliding into your fluffy slippers before leaving your room. It was beyond curfew just gone after 10 as you quickly leave the building, the cold bristly air hitting your arms, giving you goosebumps.

You make your way towards the back entrance parking lot, quickly spotting the black Mercedes, the trunk was open and Abby was dressed in her usual attire of a tank top and shorts with a boy just stood just a few feet from her, you recognised him to be Darren from your 1st period science lesson that sat a few seats behind you.

Approaching you finally see her face, she was breathtakingly beautiful, blue eyes, pale skin and cute freckles spread out across her nose and cheeks. A few strands fell to her face as she laughed at something Darren said, she must have noticed you approaching in her peripheral vision because her attention turned towards you as so Darren's.

Your legs felt like jelly as you got approached, her eyes scanning your face before slightly looking you up and down stopping at your thighs. Did abby just check you out ?

"Your Y/N right" she spoke out, the raspiness of her voice making your knees buckle slightly.

Darren crosses his arms before his eyes widen, "Oh shit Y/N your in my maths class right" he says, "Science, i'm in your science class"

"shit my bad" he turns to abby and you notice the small bag of weed in his left hand, "thanks abby, see you next week yeah" he says, going to dab her up as abby reciprocates.

"You know it" Darren gives you a ‘nice to see you again’ slightly smiling before walking off happily towards the boys dorm. "So Ellie tells me you're trying get some weed yeah" she asks as your attention turns back to her.

"oh yeah I just run out and needed a quick fix" You reply and she hums going to her trunk and pulling a small box tucked towards the back, opening it and revealing a fuck load of drugs. "How much"

You don't usually know the amount you buy since your dealer just recommends the it and your just stood there contemplating, "You alright"

"Yeah sorry my dealer normally recommends the amount so I don't really know how much" she pauses, biting her lips before grabbing one little baggy. "3 grams alright for you, it's one of my best sellers at the moment"

You eye the bag before nodding, "Yeah that's fine how much will it be" you reply going to grab your purse and pulling a few hundred dollar bills. "Shit what do you do, no college student should have that amount of cash unless your a stripper or sum'

Your cheeks heat up as you meet her very intense eyes, you were what some called a cam girl, fucking yourself with different toys for people online and hooking up with people you've met around college that promised to keep your little side hustle a secret, the only few people who knew about what you did was Ellie since you had accidentally left your computer open on the site and she managed to accidentally press the recent video of your fucking yourself with one of your toys since she needed to access a file on your computer and she promised she'd keep it a secret.

"oh- I uh sell clothes from now and then so that's how I make most of my money aside from my job" Abby notice's your nervous stammers but decides to leave it.

"Well it's $50 for 3 grams" she replies as she watches you pull out five ten dollar bills, handing it to her. She takes it stuffing it into her pocket, "Nice making business with you Y/N" she replies, passing you the small baggy and closing the trunk,

She turns around to still see you stood their a conflicted expression on your face, "sum wrong"

"Yh no I normally smoke this with someone, usually can't finish a blunt by myself, I'll end up getting too high but its alright thanks" your about to walk away before Abby's voice stop's you.

"If you want I can smoke some with you and then the next time you come to me I'll give you a discount" she offers and you think about it for a second "Sure I'm down, anything for a discount" you joke and she smiles.

"Let's do it in my car don't want to attract attention" she says, walking towards there driver door before getting in and you follow getting into the passenger side.

"Do you mind if I turn on the car, it's bit cold in here- you sure you ain't cold in that little skirt you got on" she implies, looking at the black plait skirt that barley covered your knees.

"Say's the person with shorts that barley cover their legs...I should be asking you the same question" you remark and she chuckles turning on the engine and you feel the warm breeze hit your legs as you go to adjust the mini fan on the dashboard to face your direction.

Abby goes to connect her phone to the car, the familiar song Die for you emitting from the speakers. "Pass the bag princess" your heart skips a beat at the nickname Abby gave you, watching as her arms tense up as you pass her the little bag with weed in. She grabs a small brown paper from her pocket and you watched as she fixed up the blunt, rolling it into the familiar shape and sealing it.

She takes a lighter from the cupholder and passes the blunt to you, lighting it whilst it's in between your lips and you take a long drag from it, entering through your lungs before exhaling into the air, the familiar feeling hit's you as your body relax's and your eyes droop slightly. You pass the blunt to Abby who mimics your actions as you see the veins in her hand pop out.

Your both sat in silence whilst taking turns hitting the blunt before abby speaks up,

"Shit...been a long time since I've hit a blunt" abby admits as she passes it back, "Really how long"

"Been about a month" you look at her, "Shit how come" taking in a drag once more, "I never really got the time to business been busy lately"

"Oh so you only sell to college students or you're just selling when you can" you ask, rolling the window down to allow the smoke to leave through the little crack. "A bit a both I just sell when I can" she pauses looking at you, "So how long you known Ellie for"

"Since high school she's one of my closest friends, trust that girl with my life"

"Surprised Ellie didn't tell me she had such a pretty friend" you looked at her, realising Abby Anderson had just called you pretty, you were at the point were your high as fuck, your eyes were a tinted red and your breathing increased slowly, the feeling of your panties getting soaked was prominent

You were desperately getting horny and your attraction to Abby didn't help in your situation but make you wetter, the sexual tension in the car was high as you both feel silent, nothing only but the music playing in the background, abby watches the way you lick your lips before making her move.

It's slow and sensual, her hand laying gently across your jaw as your hand goes to grip her hair, the blunt long gone from your hand. You gasp as her hand slides into your panties and you feel her smirk against your lips at the wet mess you created.

"So fucking wet for me princess" she groans, your whimper's muted by the music as she slides her fingers in between your folds.

She takes her fingers out, placing them into her mouth. "It's always the pretty ones with the best tasting pussy" she mutters, sucking every last bit off her fingers.

"Please" you plead, grinding into her hand, her lips quirk up as she pulls her fingers out of her mouth with a plop. "Please what baby"

"Please fuck me" her hand grips your thigh as the once soft blue eyes you had fawn over had been replaced with darkened ones, "With what"

"Your fingers'" you plead, your legs opening slightly as her fingers tread carefully towards your aching cunt.

"Lay your seat down princess" she orders and you quickly go to pull down the latch beside you allowing abby to climb over to your side carefully watching you as she pulls your panties to the side, revealing your wet cunt.

"So pretty for me mama" she latches her lips onto your aching clit, you gasp slightly leaning back into the seat, her tongue slowly licks every crevice and every spot with care and your hand snakes up into her dark blonde hair.

The filthy wet sounds from your pussy, bounced off the car walls as she sucked on your clit, the dirty moans from abby's mouth vibrating against your cunt, "Oooooh fuck" you moan, the elongated fuck coming from your mouth as you briefly make eye contact with Abby. "Your make such pretty sounds baby let's see how much louder you can get for me"

You gasp as she slips two fingers in with her mouth still attached to your cunt, fingering that spongy spot with every harsh thrust of her fingers at a rapid pace, sucking and slurping on your juices as she hollows her mouth around your clit, your juices dripping down abby's face. You grind your hips into her fingers, your eyes rolling back and jaw slacking with every movement letting your eyes fall back onto hers.

Strands were sticking to her forehead, the glimpses of her pretty freckles covered in your juices made her look even prettier than before and her muscular arms forcing your legs open making it impossible to shut them. "Look at you grinding your pussy into my face like a helpless slut, is it good hmm"

She whispers, watching the way your legs began to buckle under her grip, the way you got so fucking pussy drunk from it soaked her boxers. "it feel's so fucking good abby..." you scream, your legs threatening to close on her face, abby could just suffocate in your pussy at the sweet taste, you were so addictive that she could go down on you for fucking hours.

"I knew you liked this shit hmm...did you dress like this knowing you were going to get fucked stupid" you go silent for a second feeling an orgasm building up as abby goes to slap your pussy, "I know you can fucking talk slut... tell me"

"y...yes- fuck- I did" she grins continuing her pace, "nasty bitch" those words alone managed to make you squirt all over her face, the juices splattering on the seat and dashboard as your eyes rolled deep into your head, the grip on her hair tighter than before as she continues to eat you out, "made such a mess baby didn't know you were a squirter"

"wait- abs mhmm.... please stop" you beg, the sensitivity of your clit, making you shake as she continues til your licked clean. satisfied she comes up, face covered in your juices bringing you into a kiss allowing you to taste yourself.

"Same place next week" she offers and you smile giving her another kiss, "sure abs".

[chaptersleftunwritten]

if you’re still taking requests, i’m a sucker for a good one bed trope with our boy Eddie🤭

Too Close for Comfort

requested by the lovely @braindelete , hope you enjoy! ☺️

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Tension, angst, cliche trope.

divider by @cafekitsune

-

The quiet spinning world came to a sturdy halt as your fatigue stricken eyes landed on the single double bed centred in the middle of the motel room. You had specifically asked for a room with two beds but clearly the receptionist was also engulfed in a thick mist of sleep induced haze. You couldn’t blame her— it was 3 a.m.

The story explaining how you and Eddie Munson ended up in such a predicament was as simple as this— Steve Harrington’s wedding reception. Yes… that’s right, Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington was finally screwing his courage to the sticking place and settling down with his lovely fiancé whom he met during freshman year at college.

You had met her a few times, but with your busy schedule you were always left wishing you were able to spend more time with them and so when your invitation came in the mail, stamped with a ‘Save The Date’ announcement you were ecstatic. Only issue? You couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment where you ended up getting stuck in a van with Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson on this 5 hour long car journey from one state to the next.

He had matured slightly, you could give him that praise. But a lot about him remained unchallenged and the same. He was unapologetic about the way he was, he had always been that way. You admired that about him… ever since you had met in high school.

“Shit.” Eddie’s voice grumbled in the still air, rippling down your spine, “I swear this isn’t some dumb ploy, the lady said there would be two beds.” You could sense his nerves in his hoarse sleep deprived voice and it left your skin tingling. You sighed as you watched Eddie peripherally drag a pale hand down his face.

“Look, I’ll sleep on the ground. I wanna go out for a cig’ anyways so that leaves you with first dibs on the bed.”

You immediately laughed, a crazed and obnoxiously loud laugh that caused one of Eddie’s pierced eyebrows to perk on his forehead in confusion and distaste.

“Dibs?” You echoed and Eddie’s features softened as he came to realise you were teasing him, “What, are you five?” He rightfully huffs in response and you try to ignore the tightening of your chest and the way your gaze lingers a second too long on the glint of light that crosses over his muddy brown eyes.

“I’ll happily take the bed if you don’t want it, smartass.” His challenge silences you and your own face scrunches in dissatisfaction as you scoff.

“Nope. Like you said, I called first dibs.” Eddie brought out a petty childish side to you and it caused a smug grin to eat up the corners of your lips as you pounced onto the bed. Both of your legs and arms were spread to each corner of the mattress and in defeat, Eddie left the room to the porch balcony just outside the front door.

Through the pale curtains of the motel room you could see the porch light casting a shadow through the fabric. Eddie’s silhouette engulfed the green carpeted ground and you were almost hypnotised by the small blood orange cherry of his cigarette burning like a powerful beacon of light through the blackness.

You watched the fire flicker and eventually die and as you did, it soothed you to close your eyes and just breathe.

This whole journey had been nothing but stressful and borderline tormenting. Eddie made your head spin and your teeth clatter together and then, just as you thought you could prepare yourself for his spontaneous outbursts, he would confuse you and show you a whole other side of him. A side you hadn’t seen in years. A side that reminded you of why you were ever friends in the first place.

Sure, you two weren’t overly close, but you would’ve taken a bullet for one another. That’s what it meant to be part of that friend group. The love was endless and forgiveness was a priority. Nothing could separate you from your friends and vice versus.

Unless that separation was college or jobs or distance.

And as time ticked mercilessly onward, you heard from everybody less and less. The only glue tethering you to Hawkin’s was Steve. He was the only one who fought to keep in touch with you, despite your trying efforts to push everyone away.

Pulling you from your thoughts, Eddie grabbed two pillows from beside your head and he made himself a pity worthy bed on the floor.

You sit upright and before you can even contemplate what you’re doing, you are speaking, “Eddie, you can sleep up here with me. Just… don’t get any weird ideas.” It pained you that you had to even say such a thing to him, but you were both adults now and you had both probably spent way too many nights just like this one. Only difference being that whoever you slept with was gone within an hour of you dozing off. And they were a stranger.

But Eddie… Eddie was no stranger to you. Even after all of this time.

“Scouts honour.” He presses his palm to his chest and you smile softly, your eyes following his bodies every move as he climbs into the bed next to you, so cooly that you would’ve thought he was used to doing this sort of thing, “Let’s get a quick two or three hours before we need to be up and on the road again.”

The dark brunettes voice trails off in your ear and you nod hesitantly, your eyes trained on the stained ceiling of the room, “Yeah...” you reply absentmindedly.

“Yep.” Eddie shifts next to you, mirroring your laying position and you fight every instinct to turn your head and look at him.

To look into those milky chocolate eyes that are sweet enough to give you a toothache.

“Eddie?” Your voice is hushed, an echoing whisper.

“Hmm, yeah?” He turns his head toward you, his eyes warming the skin of your cheek but your face remains trained ahead of you.

“You never called… you never reached out.” Your mouth sours into a slight frown, “Why?”

You felt like a kid again, sharing a bed with your friend. Staying up way too late, eating way too much junk and sharing way too much of your feelings. It felt all too foreign and all too familiar.

“Neither did you.” Words that should have made your skin turn to ice only made your heart crack in your chest at the honest truth that Eddie was right.

Your hands fist the quilt that shields your body so tightly that you’re sure your knuckles would be pale.

For a moment you were stilted, your stubborn nature battling with what was the right thing to do. To say. And the harder you tried to conjure up something to say, the longer the silence thickened the air between you and the metal head lying next to you.

“Just because you didn’t hear from me doesn’t mean that I wasn’t thinking about you,” there was a pause full of anticipation and only then were you able to look at Eddie, “I thought about you all of the time. Every day…” Eddie catches himself, and you watch as he gulps thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down his throat, “I thought about everyone.”

You study him for a moment, quietly admiring the freckles littered over the bridge of his nose and his rosy cheeks. The slope of his tired eyes and the softness of his eyebrows. The thickness of his eyelashes left you envious of their length and you hate that your heart leaps as soon as you glimpse down at his plump pink lips.

“I thought about you too. I guess I was just too stubborn to be the first one to reach out…” Your cheek nuzzles further into the feathery pillow beneath your head and for a moment you are certain that Eddie stops breathing, “I’m sorry.”

And you meant it. With your whole heart.

“I’m sorry too…” Eddie’s response is sombre in comparison to your own and at the time you weren’t aware of what was racing through Eddie’s mind.

Bubbling beneath his calm demeanour Eddie was thinking back to all the times he had called in the middle of the night and hung up as soon as your voice bounced back through the receiver. All of the times he used you as his muse for a sketch in his sketch book and the motivation you provided him for all of the times he struggled to get up on stage and perform. You were all he could think about for years. And then one day…

He was forced to give you up. He had to stop because it was hindering his life. He couldn’t quit you.. no matter how hard he tried. And finally, after many failed attempts, things started getting easier— his mind would wander occasionally but not even near as much as it used to.

Now, lying next to you, your perfume tingling his nostrils and your hair tickling his shoulder. It all came rushing back. The drug he couldn’t rid himself of. The lost love of his life. He would sit in this torturous pain forever if it meant he could be this close to you— even if it was only for a little while.

He should have told you in that moment. But he didn’t.

His love for you died in his chest.

And as he watched you slowly succumb to beautifully dark sleep, he slipped out of the bed to step outside…

Only so he could sob to himself and leave you to rest.

Eddie cried gently into his hands, the hands he wished could caress your skin, hoping that one day he would be able to muster up the courage to tell you the truth. The truth he should have told you all of those years ago. The confession he should have told you right there and then.

-

taglist: @colorful-white-ideas @littlered0000 @ali-r3n @daisy-munson @serenadingtigers @rainybloo28 @munson-enthusiast @godcreatoreli @littlefreckles4 @what-the-jams @tlclick73 @ameliapond1995 @thepurplelovewitch @somethingvicked @costellation-hunter @munsonzgf @emxxblog @ingridvasquez @sadbitchfangirl @im-julessssss @munsonburn3r @unclecrunkle @cierra222 @ziggeddie @yarafae @sidthedollface2 @kellsck @your-nightmaredoll @purplewitchcauldron @manitskatrina @georgeweasleyslostearhq

[valacre]

: ̗̀➛ Touch Her Soft Lips and Part

Optimus Prime x Reader - transformers prime

Tyres rolled silently despite the weight they carried; the packed snow did much to muffle him as he neared your home. The sky was a deep blue, and it reflected upon the crystalised snow around him, casting the world in an ethereal glow you’d told him was called ‘the blue hour’. It was beautiful, yet Optimus couldn’t admire it just yet, not until he reached your house.

Winter tyres had never crossed his mind. He hadn’t need for them in Jasper, and rarely did he ever have to drive on snowy or icy roads but coming over to visit you after days apart had been important as he’d grown worried for you. It wasn’t often you stayed away for so long, and if you did then you’d usually give them a call to tell them of your schedule.

The radio silence had gnawed at him, so now, after nearly accidentally sliding off the road as the ice and snow had taken him by surprise, he slowly transformed as your house came into view. The windows appeared mostly dark at first, but upon further inspection, Optimus could see a soft, warm light coming from within the entryway. A light you usually kept on whenever you went outside so you wouldn’t be plunged into darkness should you come home late.

In other words, you were not at home.

Optimus looked around, trying to see possible tracks of your car leading away, but the snow laid out from your garage was undisturbed. Looking closer, he found partially snowed-over footprints leading away from your home and out towards a narrow path leading into the forest. Relieved to see proof of life, he’d yet to set his concerns aside as the footprints were clearly a few hours old. There wasn’t a single cloud upon the darkening sky, and you must have been gone for quite a while.

Trying not to rush, Optimus slowly follows the path, pedes finding unsteady ground as he holds his servos out to push away looming branches on both tall and smaller trees. A few moments where he almost stumbles have him mumbling a few small words in Cybertronian. Not swearing, but merely frustrated by his predicament and slowness. For all that he knew, you could be hurt and freezing in the snow, and here he is stumbling like a young sparkling trying to take its first steps.

The path grants him mercy the further he proceeds as trees grow farther apart and the land opens, revealing a fully open expanse. Optimus takes in the sight that Earth offers him. A great lake stands frozen, stretching far out and over to the great mountain on the other side, its giant peak standing like a hook towards the sky. All had yet to release its hold of the blue hour, though it was the lake whose blue tint stood out the most, the thick ice full of cracks, and it sang as the temperature dropped with the approaching night; ice growing thicker still.

And there, far out in the middle of it, was you.

Moving swiftly and with the grace of one of Earth’s swans, Optimus watched as you spun and slid across the ice. Feeling confused as to how you managed to move so quickly and easily, he tried to look closer as you unknowingly came a little closer, and beneath your feet were blades, gliding effortlessly across the frozen lake.

Yet again feeling amazed by the creativity of humanity, Optimus watched in silence for a while, appreciating and admiring the sight of you. A long, white woollen coat keeps you warm, a flowing blue scarf adorns your elegant neck, and a woollen hat hangs far down along your back, a puffy, woollen ball dangling at the end of it. It looks handmade. It must be made by you, crafty as you are. He smiles, admiring you even more.

“Optimus!” you shout, startled at the sight of him as the light of his optics caught in your peripheral. You’re still far away from him, but your voice echoes and he hears you clearly. He’s sorry for startling you but the warmth that flows through him at the sound of you has him forgetting it almost immediately.

He doesn’t reply but merely watches as you come towards him, a precious flower not made for him yet still seeking his presence and touch. His digits twitch and his optics are soft, never releasing your form as nearer and nearer you come. He sits down on one knee, ice cracking beneath him but no water comes out; all turned solid so close to shore.

“What are you doing out here?” you ask, slightly out of breath as you come to a halt. Your cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, breath is visible in the air, and Optimus takes a moment to admire the sight. Admiring the life that spreads warmth throughout your small body.

“We had not heard from you in many days. I began to worry something was amiss,” said he, still watching you. Some of your hair was hanging out, framing your face. The dwindling blue light cast you in a lovely glow, your eyes glittering along with the snow and ice surrounding you; perfectly made for the land you’d been born to. Unknowingly, he reached out a servo, and you took it without thought, shocking him and making his spark jitter as you suddenly kissed him, cold but soft lips touching the outer part of his index digit.

“I’m sorry. There was a snowstorm five days ago and I’ve had little to no cell service. I sent messages to Miko, Jack, and Rafael in hopes that they would reach you, but it seems that it was faulty,” said you, smiling regrettably up at him. “I didn’t mean to make you worry, Optimus.”

“You need not apologise, y/n,” said he, intakes deep as his frame threatened to overheat despite the coldness surrounding him, the touch of your lips warming him from within and out. “You did what you could to reach us. I should have attempted to contact you sooner. Forgive me for my lateness,” he said, and your face split as a fond smile stretched across your mouth and eyes, and softly you chuckled as, once more, you kissed his digit, and this time Optimus’s cooling fans kicked in as his spark melted.

“You are now and forevermore forgiven, Optimus,” said you, chuckling still and resting your cheek against his servo as he reached around to hold you. Your feet slid across the ice, and he glanced down.

“These… shoes you wear on your feet. They are adorned with blades."

“Ice skates,” you said, sliding your feet back and forth with ease. “We use them to better travel across the ice, or to perform, or to just play,” you said, shrugging your shoulders as a light shudder passed through you. Being still seemed to give the cold a chance to sink its claws into you, but you resisted when he attempted to lift you up and instead shot him a hopeful smile. “Hey, won’t you join me out on the ice?”

Optimus glanced out over the lake. “Will it hold me?”

“Yes,” you said, sounding certain. “It will. I know it.” And with that, you snuck out from his hold and far too easily slid out further onto the lake, and Optimus felt the need to reach out and grab you again, already missing your softness and warmth.

It took him a few careful steps to test the ice as well as finding how slippery it was, but one step after another he gained more confidence. It didn’t take him long to reach you in the middle of the lake, his optics trained on you as slowly but surely you were cast in a bright green light. Your eyes looked upwards to gaze upon the arrival of the northern lights, and your mouth opened slightly; awestruck.

“Oh, Optimus, look how beautiful it is,” you whispered, unable to look away from the dancing light above you. Likewise, Optimus could cast his optics away from the living painting before him. You, standing amid thick, cracked ice cast in a green glow from above, yet none of it drowned you out. Instead, you were like the stars upon the night sky, glowing bright with life.

“You are beautiful,” said he; unconsciously. Speaking from his spark.

You turned to look at him, startled by his words and frozen still by his intense stare. His optics, so bright and blue, were warm and lovestruck as he bore a tender smile upon his face plate, and your heart fluttered at the sight as your breath caught in your throat. And still, even as the flush of your cheeks was now a mixture of cold and heat, you smiled back at him, admiring the way the light above danced across his frame.

Words were thrown to the wind as eyes and optics stayed locked in silent whispers, and bladed feet hung in the air as warmth engulfed chilled skin, cradling it close and protectively as metal touched soft lips, locked in a moment of ancient and new affection; fragile, but deeply burning love intertwining.

Next Music: Scott Buckley - Hymn To The Dawn & Celestial

[uhhhj13iguess]

oh my god, you, y-you look stunning

avenger!peter parker x fem!reader

peter 'friendly neighborhood spiderman' parker drooling at the sight of you when picking you up for the stark gala. major pining. actually just exclusively pining

wc: ~0.9k

part two: go get her, kid

part three: impossible to behave around (no plot smut)

masterlist

peter put the finishing touches on his curls, doing his best to follow the instructions tony had given him. he wasn’t used to doing his hair, let alone used to the rest of his get-up for the evening. peter couldn't remember the last time he'd worn a three-piece suit to something. he had never been to a stark gala before, but he knew it was a bigger deal than anything he could even imagine.

he shot himself one last look in the mirror, running his hands over the custom-tailored jacket tony had gifted him. he’d never admit it, but he understood cashmere now.

he threw his final belongings in his pocket as he did one last sweep of his room and made a hasty exit down the hallway towards your room in the stark compound.

he was beyond anxious. every one of his senses was on edge (even more than the normal 1000%). he stood in front of your door, hands shaking as he brought his fist up to knock gently. he rapped in a succession of five knocks, signaling it was him on the other side.

peter rocked on his heels as he awaited your answer, his impatient mind going a thousand miles an hour.

and suddenly, it was going zero. as soon as peter caught sight of you opening the door, it was the only thing on his mind: past, present, future.

he couldn’t help but let his eyes trail down your figure, taking in the entirety of the grace and elegance that adorned you. you stood in front of him, a gorgeous red silk dress ornamenting your body in the best way possible.

his color. you were wearing his color.

and you had your hair down, which he rarely ever saw, and suddenly he had a preferred hairstyle on you. everything about you made his breath catch in his throat, and he felt like he was under a spell.

“… peter?”

“oh my god you, y-you look stunning,” peter responded swiftly in practically a moan, mouth hanging agape like the dog you had turned him into.

your face flushed, a smirk creeping on your lips as you reached over to grab your purse.

“you don’t look so bad yourself, pete.”

you stepped out of your doorway, nearly having to push him backwards to leave your room.

you laughed, “are you ready to head out?”

peter nodded his head eagerly, bowing his arm out for you to link. you did so contently, and the two of you made your way to the elevator, nerves overpowering as you walked with him.

the tension between the two of you was thick, both walking through the compound with aching silence. your heels echoed against the tile as you made your way to the main entrance where happy was waiting with a car. you looked up at peter as you made your way into the lobby, his head turning immediately to look at you as he caught your glance in his peripheral. the moment your eyes locked, every last bit of air was vacuumed from your lungs. you could tell he felt the same way, his adam's apple bobbing as he took a heavy swallow. you gave him a smile, but not an innocent one at that. no, he knew the smile was filled with intention. he only hoped he was right about what said intention was.

happy's loud clap snapped them out of their trance. "okay! you two are not the only ones i have to pick up, so if we could just, pause the weird horny moment and get in the car, that would be awesome."

peter's cheeks flushed immediately, shocked with himself at how easily he was completely and utterly distracted by you. you had him under a spell, he was sure of it, but he couldn't seem to care.

you laughed and apologized to happy, rushing peter towards the limo. he ran ahead of you to grab the door, holding your hand as you lowered yourself into the vehicle. you looked up at your hand in his, the feeling of his skin on yours burning your senses. he looked so good in his suit, so strong and big. you shook yourself free from the trance, scooting further in to allow peter room on the seat.

he slid in after you, shutting the door behind him and never breaking eye contact. he let out a shaky breath and chewed on the inside of his lip, forcing himself to take deep breaths even just looking at you.

he was snapped out of it, jumping in his seat at the sound of a door slamming, signaling happy in the driver's seat. he looked up to make eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and let out a huff of air at seeing the older man wink at him before rolling up the privacy screen.

he stopped it an inch before closing, "sam and bucky will be in that backseat in less than five minutes. behave yourselves."

tempted to part 2 to this with little plot, full smut because needy and pussywhipped peter is just gorgeous

[wrystia]

unmistakable glances spencer agnew x fem!reader (fluff) wc: 800

   staring at the screen in front of you, your finger pushes ever so slightly at the left joystick. sitting beside spencer, your legs are propped up into your chair, an old sweatshirt acting as a protective shield around you. your character slowly walks into a parking garage, the dim lights partially obscuring the large alien figure. eyes wide, you look back at spencer, your lips pursed. 

  he peers over at you, giving you a short smile. clenching your jaw, you look back to the screen. moving the joystick once more, you slowly make your way through the parking garage. the alien slowly creeps above barriers and around cars, occasionally kicking a can that’s been left laying around. “this is the worst,” your whisper comes out low, trying to keep yourself from looking away again.

  “you’ve got this,” he whispers back, something your personal mic packs could pick up but the remote couldn’t.

  his voice echoes in your head, sounding somewhat soothing as you make your way around a car. and just as you’re starting to feel your heartbeat slow, you run into a crushed can. the sound of metal getting kicked carries throughout the parking garage. the alien makes a noise, one that indicates its awareness of you, immediately sending you to toss the controller into spencer’s hands, “shit!”

  it lands in his hands, the controller processing your speaking and alerting the alien right to where you are. spencer looks over at you with his mouth agape, watching the alien kill your character in his peripheral vision. “why’d you do that?!” he laughs a little, making sure you know he isn’t being serious with his attitude towards you.

  “that’s like asking a duck why it quacks.”

  “i feel like i go a little bit insane every time you make a weird analogy. could’ve said ‘that’s why a pig flies’ and i’d probably take it at face value,” spencer sets the remote down, bringing his hands up to bring up his cap and adjust his hair.

  looking back at him, you try to hide the smile that crosses your lips. he’s always had this effect on you, the way he does anything with a simple nature that makes your palms clammy. even just the way he casually rests his arm behind your chair, the heat of his body temperature leeching onto you. “okay, first off, i’d never say that. second, you need to start because we’re running out of time and i want out of this building…”

  “i feel so emotionally wounded, you don’t want to hang out with me and this amazing crew anymore?”

  “you know what i meant, and if you don’t start going soon i am going to… report you to hr,” you watch as he grabs a hold of the system’s controller, rolling his eyes as you make up some sort of threat to convince him to get moving. 

  starting the level back up, he keeps his eyes on the game in front of him, locking in. however, your gaze can’t seem to escape from his concentrated face. you know he can feel you looking to him and not to the computer screen. you also know that you want to play it off like simple fear of the game, clinging onto your cohost with only the purest of intentions. but, when his gaze shifts back to look at you, all you want to do is bring him closer.

  “watch me nail this,” he gives you this smug look, forcing you to move your eyes to the screen. 

  he moves your character in the same path that you had taken her, watching the alien slowly creep around the parking garage. staring at the screen, you don’t seem to notice as spencer hides back a laugh, walking right into nearly the same can that you walked into. “oh shit!” he yells, exasperated. 

  tossing the remote to you, you look back at him. “you fucker!” you listen as the alien quickly kills your character, once again attune to the sound of cans moving and the shouting of two very loud individuals. 

  “you are so evil, i need everyone to hear me now when i say that this is all just to torture me,” you look around the room, only to have your eyes land back onto spencer. 

  he stares back into yours, carrying a cheeky little smile that he seems to love to have around you. for a second, you almost forget that you’re filming. especially when he reaches down to grab the controller back from your hand. spencer’s fingers brush yours in a quick movement, static bridging from your hand to his. “fine, fine, we will finish this level out clean! just know that we have a lot more to go through. just a warning.”

  “oh goodness.”

[matty-bear]

The Elevator Game Gone Wrong PT.2 [M.S]

type: fic! 

pairing: matt sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: VERY long, sfw, fluffy, alternate universe, paranormal activity, getting an attachment, seeing spirits, elevators

summary: As you and the triplets join Sam and Colby in investigating the most haunted hotel in Texas, the two ghost hunters suggest that Matt participates in a ritual called The Elevator Game. Little did everyone know that the ritual would actually work and your boyfriend would get stuck in another part of existence. 

notes: part two is finally here ! hope you guys enjoy it ^^ I really did NOT expect the first part to get so much attention but tysm for all the love ! I appreciate all of you very much <33 also, yes thats how this fic is gonna end there will NOT be a part three ;3 anywho, happy reading ! 

WC: 8969

PT1

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Matt?” You call out, your voice echoing rather loudly inside the empty elevator. You feel tears prick your eyes as you crouch down and take the discarded camera and horse necklace up off the floor. You practically cradle them both to your chest and shut your eyes tightly, your mind starting to spin as you begin to spiral. 

This can’t be happening.

The stupid ritual actually worked and Matt is gone. 

He’s stuck, by himself, in another plane of existence and you have no idea how to help him escape it. 

You should’ve persuaded him to not go. You should’ve been a good girlfriend and held him back. (As mean and selfish as that sounds) 

I mean if you didn’t let him go in the elevator the second time, this wouldn’t have happened right? Hell, if you didn’t let him go in the elevator period none of this would’ve happened. 

Sam and Colby probably would’ve gone in the elevator together. They could handle it, right? Of course, they could! They fucking professional ghost hunters for crying out loud! 

Forget about them… Matt is gone. Your boyfriend is gone and the chance of seeing him again is slim to none. What the fuck are you gonna do? 

You feel your chest tighten as you feel a lump form in your throat. As tears begin to cascade down your cheeks at a slow pace, you find it more difficult to breathe. Maybe it was because of the small space you were in or how your clothes were starting to become rather unbearable. 

Who are you kidding, Matt is fucking gone. 

You feel your chest tighten as you struggle to take air inside your lungs. The feeling made you panic more than you already were and you found yourself crawling back on your hands until your back hit the wall of the elevator. You hurriedly set the camera down next to you and begin to claw at your chest as you bring your knees up to your chest. 

As more choked sobs escape your lips, the muffled sound of footsteps approaches you. You see a tall figure in your peripheral vision but can’t distinguish who it is. Everything was so blurry and you couldn’t hear a thing except for your heartbeat that began beating loudly in your eardrums. 

You flinch rather harshly when you feel someone wrap their arms around you. You keep your head down as you allow the person to bring you against their chest. 

“y/n.” The person calls. They tap your shoulder a few times to get you to look up at them. At the sight of an all too familiar mop of red hair, you find yourself relaxing a little. “There you are! Look, I need you to listen to my voice okay? Can you hear me?” Nick asks, his voice nothing but soft as he looks down at your trembling frame. It takes a moment for you to register the male’s question but when it finally clicks, you slowly nod your head. 

“Okay, I need you to try your best and follow my breathing okay? Chris went to the car to grab some headphones and he’ll be back but as of right now, we need to try to ground ourselves okay? I’m right here. Just try to follow me.” 

You manage to focus your still slightly blurry vision on Nick’s mouth and wait for him to start going through a few simple deep breathing exercises before you attempt to follow. The moment you try to inhale, you immediately begin to cough your heart out. You shake your head with a small whimper and lean your head against the redhead’s bicep as you feel your heart tighten. 

“No, no, no. y/n, we need to try again. Come on, lift your head please.” Nick leans back a little to get you off him before he gently cups the side of your face, the sight of your tear-stained cheeks and pained expression as you begin hyperventilating breaking his heart. “Where the fuck is Chris? Does that mother fucker not know how to unlock a car and find a single pair of fucking headphones?” Nick looks behind him and locks eyes with Colby who’s looking down at the two of you worriedly. 

“He’s coming!” Sam exclaims, heavy exhales escaping his lips as he runs back to the three of you. 

“Fucking finally. God, my grandmother would be faster than his ass and she’s half fucking blind.” Colby smacks both of his hands over his face to muffle his laughter as Sam giggles and covers his mouth with his hand. Nick smiles softly and focuses his attention back on you as Chris runs up to the four of you. 

“Here. I could only find yours.” The younger pants out as he holds the redhead’s Apple headphones out in front of him. 

“That’s fine. What took you so fucking long?” Nick grumbles as he takes the headphones with his left hand and hurriedly digs in his pocket with the other. 

“I couldn’t find the car.” Nick quickly looks up and sends a glare to Chris who’s rubbing his nape and looking down at his shoes. 

“Of course you couldn’t.” After taking his phone out, the redhead quickly connects his headphones and opens up Spotify. “y/n look at me for a second. I need to put these on you.” You hesitantly comply and lift your head to allow the male to gently set his headphones on your head. After ensuring they’re comfortably over your ears, he quickly searches for a playlist that you and he often listen to and pushes play. The moment the soft beats of Halley’s Comet by Billie Eilish fill your ears, you find yourself claiming down nearly instantly. 

You shut your eyes and allow yourself to get absorbed in the music as you lean against Nick again. You feel the latter wrap his arms around you in a tight embrace, one of his hands softly hitting your back in a steady rhythm. Your heartbeat begins to follow the beat made and you soon find yourself calming down. When you’re finally able to breathe properly, you let out a soft exhale and slowly open your eyes. 

“Thank you, Nick.” You mumble softly, a faint sniffle coming shortly after your comment. 

“Of course,” Nick replies with a small smile. The boys allow you to take a few minutes to get yourself together before you pull away from Nick’s embrace and pull the headphones off your head and set them around your neck. The redhead intently watches as you stand up to your feet, his eyes watching your every move as you heavily exhale and look down at Matt’s horse necklace in your hand. 

“We need to get him back. I don’t care what we have to do, I need him back.” You state as you lift your head and look at Sam and Colby who are a few steps away from you. 

“I don’t really know how to hit the rewind button on this ritual per se. I didn’t think it’d work so I didn’t bother looking up how to bring something back.” Sam says as he looks down and rubs his nape, his lips forming into a straight line as he stares at the floor. 

“Well if you guys don’t figure out a way to get Matt back, I will not hesitate to do this stupid ritual over and over again until it takes me to the same universe he’s in. I'm sorry if I sound like a total jackass but I literally can’t live without Matt. And neither can Chris and Nick. We all need him back” 

“Sam and I will scavenge the internet to try to find a way to fix this, promise. But as for right now, we need all of you guys to get out of the elevator.” Colby says, his voice soft as he mentions for you and Nick to step out. You exhale heavily and gently nod your head before you walk out of the elevator, Nick following close behind you. 

You immediately make your way over to Chris who’s sitting on a bench across from the elevator. You look over at the male after sitting next to him and gently tap his knee to snap him out of the faint daze he’s in. After a moment, the male finally looks over at you and a frown immediately takes over your features at the sight of the male’s tear-filled eyes. 

“Oh Chris…” You mumble. You quickly wrap an arm around the latter’s shoulder to pull him against your side. When you do, the male doesn’t hesitate to bury his face in your neck. 

“I want Matt back.” Chris mumbles, his voice breaking slightly as he bites back the tears threatening to spill from his glossy eyes. 

“I know. We all do.” As you begin to rub comforting circles on Chris’ back, Nick takes a seat on the other side of the male and joins your attempts of calming him down. 

“Hey, guys?” Colby calls, his voice echoing in the elevator and seeping out into the hall. 

“What’s up? You find something else?” Sam asks as he quickly makes his way over to the male. 

“Yes, actually. I found a note under the camera but I can’t decipher it for the life of me.” 

“What?” You quickly pick your head up and look over at Colby who’s stepping out of the elevator and looking intently at the camera in his hand. “Lemme see.” 

The ghost hunter makes his way over to you and takes a small sheet of yellow paper off the bottom of the camera. You watch as his eyes skim over it a few more times before he hands it to you. Colby was right. On the small yellow sheet was horrible handwriting that was in… 

Crayon? 

“It looks like a kid wrote it.” You say, your eyes squinting as you try your best to decipher the words written. 

“A kid?” Nick asks as he and Chris quickly turn around to look at you. Both boys lean closer to get a better look at the note in your hand, the same bewildered expressions appearing on their faces as they stare at the writing. 

“Yall don’t think that Samantha wrote it, right?” Chris asks as he rips his gaze away from the note to look up at Sam and Colby who are already looking down at the three of you. 

“I’m not sure... How could she send a note to us?” Sam asks as he crosses his arms over his chest, his face deep in thought as he also stares down at the note in your hand. 

“Wait, is the onvoy still out?” You ask as you hand the note to Nick who has his hand out in front of him, gesturing you to give him the small piece of paper. 

“Yeah, it’s right here,” Colby replies as he walks over to the said device that has been discarded in the middle of the floor. “You wanna ask something?”

“Yes please.” Colby gently nods his head and sets the onvoy next to you on the bench. You force your lips together in a straight line, a sudden surge of fear filling your veins as you stare down at the device. After inhaling and exhaling deeply, you ask your question. 

“Samantha, are you the one that wrote the note that’s under the camera?” 

Silence fills the lobby the moment the question escapes your lips. You take a glance up at Colby before you turn your attention back to the onvoy, nervousness filling your body as you begin to hear your heartbeat loudly in your ears. 

Why isn’t it- 

Your thought gets cut off when you feel a quick jab on the side of your thigh. Your breath quickly hitches as you flinch and quickly turn around, fear glossing over your eyes as you move closer to Chris. The moment you go to open your mouth to say something, the sound of the onvoy dinging alters the five of you. You quickly turn your head around at the sound and lean in closer to the onvoy to read the glowing response. 

“It says yes.” You read, quickly leaning away from the device after you feel a cold shiver run down your spine. 

“Wait, how the hell did she get the note to us?” Colby asks as he picks up the device and switches it off. 

“I have no clue. And I kinda don’t wanna know so.” You reply, your voice trailing off as you hug your torso. 

“I know what this says,” Nick states as he holds the yellow note in between his fingers. At the male’s statement, you and the rest of the boys quickly look over at him. 

“What does it say?” Chris asks as he leans against the redhead’s shoulder, smiling slightly as he manages to make him fall back a little. 

“It says mirror room but it’s just horribly misspelled. I mean it makes sense since Samantha is a literal child but.” Nick replies, a faint grunt escaping his lips as he pushes Chris off him and sits upright. 

“Mirror room?” Sam repeats, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion as he takes a glance over at Colby. 

“Is she talking about the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine?” Chris asks, his head slightly tilting to the side as he looks up at the two ghost hunters in front of him. The moment the question escapes Chris’ lips, a small giggle escapes you at the feeling of two pokes coming in contact with your side again. 

“Samantha, I am not built for this, please do this to Chris. He’s right here.” You beg as you quickly slam your arm firmly against your side. When you use your free hand to gently pat the younger triplet’s shoulder, the male’s face grows pale as his eyes widen in pure fear. 

“Why would you say that?” Chris asks through gritted teeth. “Samantha, she doesn’t mean it. Please keep messing with her, not me.”

“Wait, maybe Samantha is trying to communicate with us through y/n. You know, considering how she touched her immediately after Chris asked the question.” Colby says as he points a single finger towards you and he looks over at the blonde next to him. 

“Samantha, if you would like to communicate with us through y/n instead of the onvoy, could you poke her two times for us?” Sam asks, his question causing your jaw to drop to the floor. 

“Guys, this is fucked uP-!” You say, your speech getting cut off by you giggling at the feeling of two pokes being delivered on your side. Your giggles soon turn into a small whine as you cover your face with both your hands and lean against Chris’ arm. 

“Did she poke you once or twice?” Sam asks. 

“Twice.” You grumble in response. “This is so fucked up why me out of all of us?” 

Sam shrugs in response. “Not sure. But at least we know how to communicate with her better.” Colby nods his head at the blonde’s comment as he lands a comforting hand on your shoulder. “Now, Samantha, would you like us to go to the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine? Remember, one poke no, two pokes yes.” 

The moment the question is asked, you feel Chris jerk away from you, a stream of panicked giggles spewing from his lips as he reaches for Nick. 

“Thank you, Samantha.” You say aloud, a small smile visible on your lips as you look over at the two boys next to you. 

“Did she poke you, Chris?” Colby asks, a small laugh escaping him as he watches the latter hurriedly rub his left side. 

“Yeah. Twice.” Chris replies, a frown forming on his lips as sends a quick glare in your direction. At the male’s intense look, you give him an innocent smile and quickly jab your hand into his side. A chuckle escapes you when Chris lets out a choked laugh and stumbles off the bench. “Bro, this isn’t funny!” The male exclaims as he lays on the floor and covers his face with his hands. 

“It’s a little funny,” Nick says with a smile as he bends down to reach the younger male on the floor. He lands a quick poke near Chris’ underarm and giggles when the male squeals and rolls away from him. “Dude, you squeal like a little girl.” 

“Nick, I will fucking rock your shit. Don’t play with me right now.” Chris says through gritted teeth as he sits up and leans against his arms. Nick raises his hands in defense and takes a seat closer to you as Sam walks up to the male on the floor. 

“Come on, I think we should head over to The Mezzanine,” Sam says as he holds his hand out in front of him. Chris looks up at the blonde for a moment, a small smile sneaking onto his lips as he grabs his hand and allows the male to help him to his feet. “y/n you wanna lead the way?” 

You slide your tongue over your teeth as you look over at Sam, your stomach churning out of anxiousness before you quickly avert your gaze from him to Nick. When you turn to the male, the redhead gives you an encouraging smile and gets up. The moment he holds his hand out for you, you smile widely and grab it as you follow suit in getting up. 

“Yeah. Let's head over there.” 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

“Okay, someone go in first I don’t fuck with the dark.” You say. After a few minutes of searching the hotel, you and the boys managed to find the Maximilian room inside The Mezzanine. The moment you walked up to the doors and saw that the room was pitch black inside, you quickly backed away and walked behind Nick and grabbed both of his arms, basically making him your shield. 

“Hell no, I'm not going in first either!” Nick exclaims as he turns around and puts you back in front of him. 

“God, y'all are a bunch of pussys,” Chris mumbles as he walks past you and Nick to get to the door. After swiftly opening it, the male enters the large room and begins his short search for the light switch. Upon finding it, the boy turns all the lights on with a single flick of the finger. “Yall coming in or what?” 

“Yeah, yeah, we’re coming.” You mumble, sending a look to Nick before you join Chris inside the room. As the rest of the boys trail behind you, you begin to wander deeper inside the room, your eyes staying glued onto the mirrors as you quickly observe them. 

“Okay, now why would Samantha bring us here? It’s just a room full of mirrors.” Nick asks, his eyes following your frame as you continue to walk around the room. 

“Maybe she left another note?” Colby suggests as he sets his backpack and camera down on the floor against the wall. 

“Let’s start looking around the-“ 

“Matt?” At your sudden exclamation, all the boys quickly whip their heads around in your direction. They silently watch as you run up to the mirror at the end of the room with wide eyes before they all run up after you.

“What happened?” Nick asks as he stops behind you and sets both his hands on your shoulders. 

“I saw Matt in the mirror.” You say, stumbling over your words slightly as you point to the mirror in front of you. “I managed to catch a glimpse of his hair before he walked to the left.” 

“Are you sure you saw him?” Colby asks, his voice holding a sense of uncertainty as he raises an eyebrow and looks up at the mirror in front of all of you. 

“I swear on my life it was Matt! I could recognize his ass from a mile away!” You slip away from the group to walk to the mirror to your left. The mirror that Matt walked towards. You stand in front of the said mirror and your hold on his horse necklace tightens as you desperately look around the glass. 

You needed to prove to the guys that you weren’t seeing things. They probably think you're going insane right now and you can’t have that. 

The moment you go to walk to the next mirror, you feel a small tug on your sleeve. You quickly jump away with wide eyes and cover the area where you got touched. 

“Samantha is that you?” You call out, your statement drawing the attention to the group of boys still standing in front of the other mirror. At the feeling of two small pokes on your knee, you heavily exhale and nod your head softly. “Can I see Matt in the mirrors?” Another two pokes. “See! She said yes!” 

“But how is that possible? You can’t see another person in a mirror unless they’re in front of it.” Sam says as he walks up to you, the rest of the boys following close behind him. 

“I have no idea how it’s possible but Samantha confirmed that I’m not going crazy.” You don't wait for the blonde to stop in front of you before you walk off to the next mirror. Sam stops in his tracks and looks back at Colby, a look of uncertainty clear on his face as he locks eyes with the male. The latter simply shrugs in response and pats the blonde’s shoulder before he, Nick, and Chris follow you. 

“Matt?” You call you again, your eyes desperately searching the mirrors in hopes of seeing your boyfriend again. You let out a frustrated huff when you reach the end of the wall. No Matt here. You quickly turn on your heels to begin your search on the other wall. The moment you walk up to the first mirror, your breath gets caught in your throat when your eyes land on an all too familiar mop of chocolate brown hair. “MATT!”  

You run up to the mirror showcasing your boyfriend curled up in a tight ball against a wall with both of his arms covering his head. The closer you got to the mirror, the more you could faintly make out his rapid and labored breaths. 

“Matt?” You shout as you delicately set your fingertips on the glass. You watch with wide eyes as Matt quickly looks up and whips his head around, trying to find who called him. 

“Hello?” The male calls out, his voice sounding rather muffled as he hurriedly stands up. 

“Matt it’s me, y/n! Can you hear me?” 

“y/n?..”

At the sound of quickening footsteps approaching you, you quickly turn around to see all the boys coming up to you. The same shocked expression can be seen on all of their faces as they look up at the mirror. 

“It’s fucking Matt.” Chris breathes, tears welling up in his eyes as he grabs onto Nick’s bicep.

“How the hell…” Colby mumbles.

“Matt!” Nick shouts as he drags Chris up to where you are standing directly in front of the mirror. 

“Nick?” Matt calls, his voice wavering slightly as he clutches his clothed chest. 

“Matt, we’re all here. Me, Nick, Chris, Sam, and Colby. Can you see us?” You ask. You all watch as Matt rubs his eyes with his palms and looks around aimlessly. 

“No...” Matt replies sadly as a frown overtakes his lips. 

“Matt, do you see a mirror anywhere by any chance?” Sam asks as he and Colby walk closer to the mirror. 

“Umm…” Matt’s voice trails off as he begins to walk around. The moment he goes to walk outside of the mirror, you all yell at him. 

“NO, MATT!” You all exclaim in unison. The male jumps at y’all’s exclamation and quickly walks back to where he was. 

“Look in front of you,” Chris instructs, a small giggle escaping him as he watches his brother cross his arms over his chest with a frustrated exhale. Matt complies and looks straight ahead, his eyes widening slightly when his gaze lands on a small mirror with a black frame. 

“I see one!” Matt exclaims as he quickly runs up to it. As he does so, he nearly takes up the entire space of the mirror the five of you are looking in, his tall frame looking over you guys as he scans the mirror on his side. You and the boys immediately begin to back up to get a better view of the male, small chuckles escaping a few of you at the sight of Matt mimicking a mine as he sets his hands on the glass. 

“Can you see us in-“ You cut yourself off when Matt suddenly yelps and jumps to the side. 

“What the fuc-“ The male starts, cutting himself off when he looks to his side and sees something. 

“What happened?” You ask, worry washing over you as you see Matt take a few steps back, his eyes wide in fear. 

“Samantha’s next to me.” 

“WHAT?” Chris exclaims, his jaw-dropping as he quickly whips his head around to face Sam and Colby, the two sharing the same expression as him. 

“Wait, we can’t see her,” Nick says, his eyebrows furrowing together as he over at the space that Matt is looking down at. You watch intently as Matt reaches his hand next to him, your eyes widening when you see a yellow sheet of paper appear in his hand moments later. 

“That’s the same sheet that was under the camera,” Colby states, earning a small head nod from you and the other boys. 

“Thanks,” Matt says slowly. You see the male smile slightly before he looks down at the paper in his hand. “Awh, this is wonderful Samantha thank you.” 

“What’d she give you?” The moment the question slips out of Sam’s lips, Matt flips the paper over and holds it against the mirror, allowing the five of you to see it. You can’t help the large smile appearing on your lips when your eyes land on the shark drawn with a blue crayon on the yellow sheet of paper. 

“Awh, that’s so cute!” Chris gushes as he jumps a few times. 

“Do they like it?” You hear a small voice ask. Collective gasps emit from you and the boys the second you guys hear the voice. 

“Yes, they love it,” Matt confirms with a smile. A small, high-pitched giggle rings through your ears before Matt faces the mirror again. “Guys I'm fucking petrified here please bring me back.” 

“We’re not finding anything on how to get you back, Matt,” Colby says, a frown appearing on his lips. Matt covers his face with both his hands as a shaky exhale escapes him. You find yourself shaking your head slightly as you force your lips together and dig your hand in your pocket to take your phone out. The moment you unlock the device, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” Nick says softly, his minty breath fanning over the right side of your face as he peers down at your phone. 

“Trying to find a way on how to bring Matt back.” You reply, your thumbs quickly tapping the screen as you google the ritual Matt did in the elevator. Silence fills the room as you type away on your phone, your eyebrows knitting together as a determined and focused expression spreads across your face. 

“Home?” You quickly pick your head up the second Samantha’s voice fills your ears. You watch Matt remove his hands from his face, your expression falling into one of worry at the sight of your boyfriend’s glossy eyes, before he looks down at the space he was looking at previously. 

“What was that?” Matt asks softly, a small sniffle escaping him as he quickly wipes away the tear that escapes his eye. 

“You wanna go home?” You hear Samantha ask. 

“Yes, I really wanna go home,” Matt replies as he furiously nods his head. 

“You don’t belong here?” 

“No, I don’t. I belong somewhere else.” 

“Where?” 

“Just somewhere else.” 

“With y/n?” You feel your heart skip a beat the moment your name escapes the little girl’s lips. 

Matt’s eyes widen and his words get caught in his throat for a moment before he hurriedly replies. “Yes with y/n. With my two brothers and friends too.” 

“How did you get here if you don’t belong here?” 

“I decided to play a little game that I shouldn’t have played by myself.” 

“What game?” 

“Just a little game in the elevator.” 

“Oh! I know that one!” 

Matt’s face falls into one of worry the moment Samantha answers. “You do?..” Matt asks, his voice trailing off as he takes a glance over at the mirror next to him. 

“Yes! I like to play it with my friends! We get to go somewhere else if it works! It’s a lot of fun.” 

“Wait, do you know how to take me back to where I belong then?” 

“You belong in the place where me and my friends go?” 

“Yes! Yes, I do.” As you hear the small girl hum softly, you quickly turn around to look back at the boys behind you. 

“She knows about the elevator game.” You say, your voice soft and low as you try to not get Samantha to hear you. 

“Let’s hope she knows how to send Matt back,” Chris adds as he begins to nibble on his bottom lip. 

“I think so.” You hear Samantha say. You could tell she was rather unsure with her reply due to her voice going up a few octaves at the end of her sentence. 

“Could you try to send me back, please?” Matt asks as he looks down at the girl, a pleading expression clear on his face. 

“Yeah! Come with me!” Without allowing the male to get another word out, Samantha grabs Matt’s hand and pulls him away and out of the mirror. The second the male vanishes, your face drops and you quickly turn around to face the boys behind you. 

“We have to go back to the lobby. Now.” You state, giving all the males a stern look before you exit the Maximilian. 

“y/n, wait up!” Nick exclaims as he begins to run after you, the other three boys soon running after the both of you. 

Matt’s POV

The constant colors of blue and yellow have been blinding my vision the entire time I’ve gotten to this universe. This world is a replica of the regular world apart from the fact that the majority of this world is in those two colors. While wandering around this universe’s hotel, I did encounter a hallway that was a different color. However, I didn't think about walking down it considering how it was a deep red color. And if my representations of colors were correct, I know that you should always stray away from red since it’s often tied to danger. 

Honestly speaking, I didn’t expect this elevator ritual to work so when it did, I had a full-blown freakout. I mean, why would I not? I’m in a different universe and couldn’t contact anyone. Not to mention how the camera I was using to record myself and my horse necklace completely vanished into thin air the second I got ‘transferred’ over here. 

Adding to my list of things I didn’t expect, I didn’t expect to be able to see hundreds of spirits walking around. No one seemed to care about how I was there and kept going on their merry way, floating around the hotel grounds as I wandered around like a lost child in a grocery store. I almost gave up on my search trying to figure out where the hell I was and how to get out but when I heard y/n’s voice, I gained a little bit of hope. But the fact that I couldn’t see her and the rest of the guys frustrated me heavily. And they could somehow see me? I have no idea how that makes sense but I didn’t even bother asking because I was sure they wouldn’t have an answer. 

My first encounter with Samantha while I was talking with y/n was absolutely terrifying. The little girl that I saw in a painting was standing next to me and communicating with me. She had a bright yellow aura surrounding her, which was a great contrast to the other spirits who held a dull gray one. I’m assuming that she was the only one who had this aura because she’s a kid and still has that child-like innocence to her. But the moment she mentioned that she and her friends played the elevator game for fun, I could not believe my ears. 

I mean, she doesn’t know better and probably thinks it’s all fun and games but to me, it’s the complete opposite. That little game of hers got me here in the first place. Now, I'm not blaming her because she's a literal child and has no control over this but the elevator game being fun??? That’s just mind-boggling. 

“Wait, where are we going?” I ask, my eyes squinting as Samantha’s aura begins to blind me. 

“The elevator, silly!” The little girl replies, a small giggle emitting from her smiley lips as she continues to drag me down the blue and yellow hallways. A small sigh escapes my lips as I continue to let Samantha lead me to the first floor, thankfully with the use of the stairs, and to the lobby where the elevators were. “Get in!” With a small push of a button, the elevator doors open to reveal a purple-filled space with blotches of yellow coating the brims of the elevator walls. 

“Good to know there’s no red in here,” I mumble under my breath.

“What did you say?” Samantha quickly turns around on her heels, her dress momentarily twirling around her as she looks up at me with large doe eyes. 

“Nothing.” I give the girl a small smile before I enter the elevator. I immediately excuse myself to go to the corner as Samantha enters right after me. As she walked up to the panel of buttons, I could faintly hear her humming a soft tune, her body subconsciously swaying along to the tune. After pushing the button for the first floor, she turns back around and walks up to me. 

“Will you come back to visit me?” Samantha asks with a large toothy grin. I feel my heart ache as the small girl looks up at me. As I force my lips into a straight line, I begin to have a small mental battle about whether or not I should be honest with her. 

“I’m not sure, Sammy. I really wanna go back home.” I reply softly. 

“Can I come with you?” The moment Samantha asks me that question, I feel my heart drop. Panic immediately fills my body as I blink down at the girl in front of me. 

“No, I'm sorry. You need to stay here with your friends. They’ll miss you if you don’t come back.” 

As Samantha’s smile forms into a pout, the elevator dings faintly before the doors open. I watch as the small girl turns around and goes to push the next floor, her pout not faltering.

“y/n seems nice,” Samantha says softly as she makes her way back to me. 

“She is a wonderful girl. I’m very lucky to have her in my life.” I comment as my lips form into another large smile. 

“I think she’s scared of me.” My smile falls into a slight frown as I look down at Samantha. 

“What makes you think that?” 

“Every time I try to get her attention, she always looks so scared. She hasn’t looked as scared the last few times I poked her but I know she’s scared of me.” As Samantha picks her head up to look at me, I feel my heart shatter as I take in her large and glossy doe eyes. “Am I scary?”

“Oh no, not at all Sammy.” The moment I open my arms, Samantha runs closer to me and crashes into me. As I wrap my arms around her and gently pat her head, the small girl nuzzles her face into my stomach. 

“Are you sure?” Samantha asks, her voice cracking as tears begin to run down her small face. 

“I’m sure, sweetheart. You are not scary at all. In fact, you are quite adorable and so sweet.” I reassure the girl as I begin to run her back comfortingly. As Samantha sniffles softly, the faint ding of the elevator doors opening causes me to lift my head. I let out a small sigh before I bend down and lift the girl into my arms. As I make my way over to the panel of buttons, Samantha wraps her arms around my neck and rests her head against my shoulder. 

Carrying this small kid has to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever experienced. She practically weighs nothing and my skin is tingling. 

Why am I tingling?.. 

“Hey, Sam?” I call, my index finger gently poking the said girl’s side. I smile softly when she squirms away with a high-pitched giggle. 

“Yes?” Samantha replies as she lifts her head off my shoulder to look over at me. 

“What floor do we go to next?” 

“Six!” 

“Alright, thank you.” Samantha hums softly in response and returns to her spot on my shoulder. After I push the bottom to the sixth floor, I walk back to the corner I was previously at. Comfortable silence fills the elevator as I continue to hold Samantha close against me, her soft breath tickling my neck as she begins to faintly hum the same tune from earlier. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

Your POV 

You find yourself pacing back and forth in front of the elevator as Salt In The Wound by boygenius fills your ears. You can see Sam and Colby talking to one another in your peripheral vision, however you can’t make out their voices due to the headphones on your head. 

You had no idea how to wrap your head around what happened 15 minutes ago. You thought you lost Matt for good yet you were able to talk with him through a mirror. The whole thing sorta of reminded you of Bloody Mary but minus all the scary aspects. The fact that Matt was able to physically see and communicate with Samantha while he was in the other universe was pretty shocking to you. You hope that the girl will stay true to her word and help your boyfriend back in this world. 

God knows you desperately need him back. 

You get snapped out of your pacing and your daze by a small tap on your shoulder. You flinch rather harshly and rip the headphones off your head, your eyes mimicking those of a deer caught in headlights as you stare wide-eyed at the person who tapped you. 

“Fucking hell, Chris. You scared the shit out of me.” You say as you clutch your chest. 

“My bad.” Chris apologizes with a small smile. “Nick wants you to eat something.” At the male’s statement, you turn your head and immediately make eye contact with Nick who’s holding his hand out, an open pack of fruit snacks on the palm of his hand. At the sight of the snack, your mouth shapes into a small oval before you scurry over to the redhead and take a seat next to him. The moment the male hands you the pack, you shoot him a large toothy grin before you indulge in the snack. 

“I can’t be the only one who can’t believe what just happened,” Colby says as he rubs the side of his face with his hand. 

“No, I can’t either. That was fucking insane.” Nick agrees as he quickly points over to the male before he fishes another pack of fruit snacks from his pocket. 

“It reminded me of Bloody Mary a little bit. You know since they both deal with mirrors.” Sam chimes in as he nibbles on a single club cracker. 

“Me too!” You exclaim, a hand coming up to cover your mouth as you continue chewing on your gummies. 

“Do you guys really think that Samantha will help Matt? I mean, she is a little kid after all.” Nick asks as he stuffs a few fruit snacks in his mouth. 

“I don’t know but I hope she’s able to bring him back.” You reply as you sigh gently and continue chewing. 

“Hey guys?” Chris calls. You and the rest of the boys quickly look over at the male who’s looking at the elevator with slightly wide eyes. 

“What’s up?” Sam asks as he lifts himself off the wall he’s leaning against to walk over to the youngest triplet. 

“Was the elevator always on the fifth floor?” Your head quickly turns to look over at the number atop the elevator. And low and behold was the number five shining brightly above the golden doors. 

“Wait, why is it blue?” You ask, your eyebrows furrowing as you stare at the bluish glow emitting around the number. “Wasn’t it always white?”

“Yeah, it was…” Colby replies, his voice trailing off as he takes a stand next to you. “That’s weird.” 

The moment you go to fix your gaze back to the half-empty pack of gummy snacks in your hand, the sound of Chris gasping rather loudly causes you to pick your head up again. 

“What’d I miss?” You ask quickly as you look over at the male. 

“The number is going down,” Chris replies as he points up to the number shining brightly atop of elevator doors. Your eyes widen the moment that statement escapes Chris’ lips and you quickly look over at the elevator again. 

“What the actual fuck…” You hear Nick mumble next to you. You feel your heart beat loudly in your ears as you watch the number above the elevator slowly go down. The moment the number one appears, your eyes quickly shift over to the elevator doors. You had no idea what was happening but you knew that the elevator arrived at the floor all of you were currently on. It could be that another person is taking the elevator and they’re coming to the lobby but why was it stuck on the fifth floor? 

You get pulled out of your thoughts when you hear a small ding coming from the elevator. Subconsciously, you reach over to Nick and grab his hand for mental support as you hear your heartbeat quicken in your ears. After a few moments, the elevator doors slowly begin to open. After it finally opens halfway and you don’t see anyone, your gaze falls back to the pack of fruit gummies in your hand. 

Stupid fucking haunted ele-

“MATT!” You hear Nick exclaim, his hold on your hand vanishing as he quickly gets up and runs to the elevator. You quickly pick your head up at the mention of your boyfriend’s name and see all the boys rushing inside the elevator. Your mind seems to lag for a minute as you sit there, frozen, until you finally get back to reality and join everyone in the elevator. You nudge your way through the small crowd of boys to get to the middle and the moment you see an all too familiar set of blue eyes look down at you, tears immediately begin to well in your eyes. 

“Matt.” You sob. You immediately crash into your boyfriend’s arms when he walks closer to you and opens his arms out. You bury your face into Matt’s chest and curl your fingers against his clothed back as a steady flow of tears runs down your cheeks. “You’re back.” 

“I'm back, I'm right here,” Matt whispers softly as he begins to land soft kisses on the top of your head. The male shuts his eyes tightly and takes in your comforting scent as he begins to tear up himself. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” You remove yourself from Matt’s chest to look up at him. “Never do that shit again. I won’t let you.” 

“I won’t, I promise.” Matt brings a hand up to the left side of your cheek to cup your face, this thumb beginning to wipe away your tears as he locks eyes with you. A few beats of silence pass by before the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts y’all’s small moment. 

“I apologize for interrupting but I’m feeling quite claustrophobic here,” Nick says as he gestures to the small space around him.  

“Yeah, and I think I’d like to leave this trauma-inducing elevator,” Matt adds with a smile, his statement earning faint laughs from all the boys. You watch as all the guys file out of the elevator and walk back into the lobby. Before you grab Matt’s hand to pull him out with you, you turn back to face the male with a small smile. The brunette shifts his gaze down towards you and smiles softly before you decide to grab his face and pull him down to capture his lips for a quick kiss. 

“Never thought I’d be able to kiss you again.” You say after you pull back, the same smile visible on your lips. 

“Hey! No sucking face in the elevator!” You both hear Chris exclaim. You can’t help but roll your eyes at the boy’s statement before you take Matt’s hand in yours and pull him out of the elevator. 

“I think it’s safe to call it a night,” Colby says, a heavy exhale escaping his lips as he picks his backpack up off the floor. 

“I thought we still had the Estes Method to do,” Chris says, his eyebrows furrowing as he watches the two ghost hunters collect their equipment. 

“Well…” Sam starts as he detaches the light from one of the cameras. “We do but a lot has gone down and I think we should wrap things up here. Right, Matt?” 

“Most definitely. I saw and interacted with enough spirits today.” Matt confirms as he rapidly nods his head in agreement. 

“We can pick up another day if you guys want. I think we have plenty of footage for the video but we’ll release something at the end explaining what happened with Matt without giving away too much information.” Colby suggests as he swings his bag over his shoulder, one of his hands resting against the strap to hold it in place. 

“We can pick back up in two days,” Nick says, taking a glance over at Matt and Chris and waiting to gain small head nods of approval from them before he looks back at Sam and Colby. “We do have another week here.” 

“Well, let us know. You guys do not have to continue the investigation if y'all don’t want to. As Colby said, we should have enough footage for the video.” Sam reassures, a small smile appearing on his lips as he stuffs his hands in his pockets.  

“We will,” Matt says with a smile of his own. 

“Well, we’ll see you guys later. We still have that dinner reservation in three days so don’t forget!” Colby exclaims as he points a finger at all of you. 

“We won’t.” Chris chuckles. “Thanks for inviting us guys!” 

“Dude, of course.” You and the triplets begin to share quick hugs with Sam and Colby before the six of you begin to head towards the exit of the hotel. Upon arriving at the front doors, Matt holds the door open for you to allow you to be the first person to step outside. When you do, you take in your first breath of fresh air with a content smile. 

“God, how much I missed seeing the outside world.” You sigh as you turn around to face the rest of the boys. 

“Oh me too.” Colby agrees with a rapid head nod. 

“We’ll see y'all later! You guys make it back to your hotel safely.” Matt says as he walks up to you, his left hand instinctively going to reach out to grab yours 

“Yall too! Goodnight guys!” Sam shouts with a large smile as he and Colby wave goodbye to the four of you. You and the triplets bid farewell to the ghost hunters before walking through the parking lot in search of the van. 

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see a car in my entire life,” Matt mumbles as he takes his car keys out. As the male unlocks the car, you giggle softly and watch as Nick and Chris hop in the back. Matt looks over at you and lands a quick kiss on your forehead before he brings you to the passenger door. You slip inside the car with a small smile when the male opens it and gently shuts it when you get yourself situated in your seat. 

“God I'm fucking exhausted.” Nick breathes as leans against the car window, his eyes shutting in the process. 

“Ima knock out. I kid you not.” Chris adds as he pulls his seatbelt over his body. 

“Y'all better wake the hell up when we get to the hotel. I’m not carrying y'all up to the room.” Matt says as he slips in the driver's seat, a soft thud coming from the door after he shuts it. 

You manage to catch Nick making a talking gesture with his hand in your peripheral vision as you look over at Matt. You watch silently as the male puts his seatbelt on and pulls the gearshift down to drive. Before he begins to drive off, he looks over at you and sends you a large smile before capturing your lips for a quick kiss. 

“I’m never leaving your side again.” You say as you shift in your seat to lean your head against the cold window. 

“Same here. I’m never letting you out of my sight.” Matt smiles as he takes a glance at all his mirrors. After backing out of his parking spot, your boyfriend reaches over to grab your hand as he finally drives off. As the male gently caresses the back of your hand with his thumb, you find yourself drifting off into a deep slumber. 

༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ༼ つ ╹ ╹ ༽つ

A week later… 

“Okay Matt, this is starting to scare me. Do I need to make you an appointment right now?” 

“No, I'm fine.” 

“Matt you’ve been on the floor for the past five minutes and you look like you’re fucking giving birth. You are clearly not fine.” 

“What’s happening?” You ask as you walk inside the warehouse, the door shutting close behind your heels as you forcefully pull it shut.

“Look at your boyfriend,” Nick says as he points down at the said male. You follow the redhead’s finger and worry washes over you when you see Matt curled up on the floor, his eyes screwed shut as a pained expression paints his face. You quickly set the McDonald's bags in your hands down on the nearby sofa before hurrying over to Matt. 

“Baby, this is the third time I’ve found you like this this week.” You say as you sit down near the brunette’s head. After Matt doesn’t say anything and simply rests his head in your lap, you let out a small sigh and begin to card your hand through the male’s hair. “Is it still your lower back?” 

Matt gently nods his head. “It really fucking hurts. It’s like a bunch of tiny needles pricking my skin. It feels so weird and tingly.” Matt mumbles, a sharp hiss escaping him shortly after he finishes his sentence. 

“Matt, again?” You hear Chris ask, his footsteps becoming louder as he walks into the room. You hear the male sigh before you take a glance up at him. 

“You guys are acting like I'm in control of this fucking happening. Cut me some slack, holy shit.” Matt grumbles as he digs his face into your thigh. 

“Have you texted Sam or Colby?” Chris asks, averting his question to you as he raises a single brow. 

“No… why would I?” You question back, your eyebrows knitting in confusion as you send the male a look. 

“I have a gut feeling that they have an idea about what’s happening. Just saying.” Chris shrugs as he makes his way to the McDonald's bags on the sofa. You shake your head with a small chuckle when the male digs in one of the bags and takes out his food before he walks off. 

“Should I text one of them?” You ask as you look over at Nick who’s leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. 

“You can if you want. It’ll shut Chris up.” The redhead replies with a shrug. You gently nod your head and pull your phone out of your pocket. “Maybe text Colby. He responds a lot quicker than Sam.” You give Nick a thumbs-up before opening your chat with Colby. You twirl your thumbs around the keyboard for a moment trying to figure out what to say before you finally start typing. 

You: hey colby ? I have a question to ask you 

Colby: Ask away! 

You: so matt has been having these pains in his back and i was wondering if you had an idea as to why he’s been having them 

I know it’s random but chris had a hunch that you guys might know soo … 

Colby: His back…? 

You: yea

Colby: Like his lower? Upper? 

You: lower 

Colby: Oh shit

You: what … what’s wrong 

Colby: I think Matt got an attachment 

You: a WHAT ?!?

·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:· TagList ·:¨༺ ♱✮♱ ༻¨:·

@freshloveforthefit @nickuniversity @patscorner @rootbeerworshiper @dracoflaco @xxloveralways @frankdelreyy @sturnssan @kileybankzz @sturniolho @iammattswife @nomournersonefuneral @maddisqnx @noirpxrker @isa942572 @Irs-jenkinson @wronqness99 @wolfstarfate @bxbynyah7 @marauders3 @cind2224 @aoxash @ladybunny44 @mattslovelygf @flynnriderishot @loveflimsz @mrsmattyb @firexovni @furiouswitchtyphoon

comment to be added to the taglist and click here to know more abt it!

[brookediamonds]

Hii do you think I can get a smut of Axel where he's being possessive because he saw the reader talking to another guy and can it have a daddy kink

R U Mine? | Axel Kovačević x Fem! Reader

Summary: There's a new guy joining Cobra Kai, and he makes the mistake of flirting with you. Your boyfriend takes matters into his own hands when the newbie doesn't get the message.

Word Count: 4.2k Warnings: 18+, Toxic!Axel, spanking, p in v, reader is on bc, wrap it before you tap it, cream pie, car sex, minors dni

gif is not mine

The scent of sweat and liniment filled the dojo, the sharp echo of gi fabric snapping in the air as strikes landed. 

You were focused, in the zone, wiping your brow and catching your breath between drills. 

That’s when he walked in. The new guy.

He was tall. Confident. A little too smooth for someone new.

Sensei introduced him quickly, and he gave a polite bow. 

But instead of scanning the room or sizing up the group like most newcomers did… his eyes went straight to you.

Axel noticed.

He always noticed when it came to you.

The guy approached you during water break, flashing an easy smile. "Hey, mind showing me some basics? You looked sharp out there."

You take a small step back, a tight smile pulling at your lips as your eyes dart instinctively toward Axel across the room.

He's watching, his blue eyes narrowed, jaw tense beneath his tight lipped expression.

"Thanks, but..." You force a light laugh, tucking a damp strand of hair behind your ear. "Sting Ray over there is actually our assistant instructor. He'd be much better at showing you the ropes."

The new guy—Jason, you think Sensei said—follows your gaze to where Sting Ray stands, but then his attention slides back to you like a physical touch. "I'd rather learn from you. Something about your form..."

The air in the dojo suddenly feels thinner. From your peripheral vision, you can see Axel moving closer, his tall frame cutting through the space with deliberate steps.

"Really, I'm flattered, but I'm not really the teaching type," you finish lamely, but the words have barely left your mouth when Sensei Lawrence’s voice cuts through the dojo like a knife.

"Everyone, pair up! We're doing three-minute sparring rounds."

Sensei's eyes scan the room, landing on you and Jason with an approving nod. 

"Perfect. New blood against one of our veterans. You two," he points decisively. "Front and center."

Your stomach drops as Jason's smile widens. He rolls his shoulders back, confidence radiating from every pore as he steps onto the mat. 

You follow reluctantly, feeling the weight of Axel's stare burning into your back.

"Give it your all," Sensei instructs, his voice carrying across the hushed dojo. "Begin when ready."

Jason takes his stance, surprisingly polished for a newcomer. You mirror him, feeling Axel's gaze like a physical weight against your skin. 

You risk a glance in his direction and immediately wish you hadn't. His eyes are cold fire, jaw working beneath taut skin.

He's standing across from you, arms crossed behind his back as he stood in line between Hawk and Miguel.

The controlled fury simmering beneath that composed exterior of his makes your stomach tighten with both dread and anticipation.

Jason lunges forward with surprising speed. You barely deflect his strike, your attention split between your opponent and the man watching from the sidelines.

"Focus," Jason teases, mistaking your distraction for inexperience. "I thought you were supposed to be good."

The comment stings your pride enough to pull your attention back to the match. You center yourself, letting muscle memory take over as you counter his next attack with a clean combination.

You exchange a few more strikes, finding your rhythm despite Jason's cocky remarks. 

His technique is good but yours is better.

When the timer buzzes, you step back, breathing hard but satisfied with your performance.

"Not bad," Jason says, his eyes lingering too long on the rise and fall of your chest. "Maybe we could practice together sometime. Outside of class."

Before you can respond, Sensei's voice cuts through the dojo again. "Next pairs!"

He scans the room, his gaze settling on Axel, who's already stepping forward with predatory grace.

"Axel, let's see what our newcomer can do against someone more... experienced. Jason, center mat."

The smile freezes on Jason's face as Axel moves toward him. The temperature in the room seems to drop several degrees. You retreat to the edge of the mat, standing alongside Sam and Tory. 

Axel’s eyes remain locked on Jason, who shifts his weight uncertainly, sensing the change in atmosphere. The air between them crackles with tension so thick you could cut it with a knife.

"Begin," Sensei calls.

Jason barely has time to set his stance before Axel moves. The attack comes with such fluid precision that even Sensei's eyebrows rise slightly. 

One moment Jason is standing, the next he's sprawled on the mat, the wind knocked from his lungs.

"Get up," Axel says, voice low but carrying across the silent dojo.

Jason rises, shaking his head, a flush of embarrassment coloring his cheeks. 

He tries a different approach, feinting left before striking right, but Axel reads him like an open book. A sweep, a twist, and Jason is down again, harder this time. 

The third time Jason rises, determination hardens his features. He launches into a flurry of strikes, each one technically sound but somehow predictable to Axel, who deflects them with insulting ease. 

It's like watching a cat toy with its prey, Axel isn't even breathing hard while Jason's face glistens with sweat.

"Had enough?" Axel asks, his voice deceptively soft.

Jason answers with a desperate lunge. Axel sidesteps, catches his extended arm, and in one fluid motion flips him onto his back with such force that the entire dojo seems to vibrate.

Jason lies there, gasping, the fight visibly draining from his body.

Sensei clears his throat. "I think that's enough for today. Class dismissed."

The class disperses in tense silence. Students gather their belongings as sensei Lawrence goes into his office, whispering among themselves as they cast furtive glances at the three of you.

Jason remains on the mat, pride visibly shattered as he struggles to his feet. His eyes find yours across the room, a silent plea for sympathy that makes your skin crawl.

Axel's gaze follows Jason's. In three long strides, he crosses to where you stand, ignoring the other students around. 

he moves towards you fluidly, dangerously, with the intention of claiming territory.

Without a word, he slides one hand around the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your tied up hair. His other hand grips your hip, pulling you against the solid wall of his chest. 

His mouth captures yours in a kiss that's nothing short of possession—deep, demanding, unapologetic.

His fingers tighten in your hair, pulling you back just enough to break the kiss. 

His eyes are locked with yours. The message is unmistakable: Mine. He releases you abruptly, turning away to gather yours, and his items.

With practiced efficiency, he snatches your water bottle and gym bag from the bench, then grabs his own duffel in one fluid motion. 

His hand finds the small of your back, pressing firmly as he guides you toward the exit.

You can feel the weight of some students stare, specifically, Jason's, his wounded pride turning to humiliation.

But Axel moves as if no one else exists, his palm hot through the thin fabric of your gi as he shepherds you through the door.

The cool evening air hits your flushed face as the dojo door swings shut behind you. Your boyfriend's pace is relentless, as he guides you across the parking lot. 

Your heart hammers against your ribs, each breath shallow and quick. You should be angry at this display, but the truth burns through you like wildfire... you're not. 

Your body betrays your indignation with every rapid heartbeat, every shallow breath, every pulse of heat between your thighs.

His hand slides from your back to grip your wrist as he leads you to his sleek black camaro. The pressure of his fingers against your pulse point sends shivers up your arm. 

You know he can feel your racing heartbeat, the physical evidence of what his dominance does to you.

"In," he commands, opening the passenger door. His voice is controlled but barely, a tightly coiled spring threatening to snap.

You slide into the leather seat without protest, watching as he rounds the hood with predatory grace. 

When he slips behind the wheel, the car feels impossibly small, his presence filling every inch of available space.

He doesn't start the engine. Instead, he turns to you, one hand gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, the other reaching across to grasp your chin.

"You liked his attention," he says, voice low and threaded with steel. Not a question, an accusation.

"I didn't—" you start, but his fingers tighten slightly, cutting off your protest.

His eyes flick over your face, searching, memorizing. "Don't lie to me." 

The engine roars to life under his touch. He pulls out of the dojo parking lot with a screech of tires, his movements sharp and precise like his fighting.

The speedometer climbs as streetlights blur past the windows. You grip the door handle, watching his profile cut against the gathering darkness.

He doesn't speak. The silence fills the car like smoke, making it hard to breathe. His jaw works beneath taut skin, the muscle there flexing with frustration. 

His knuckles are white against the black steering wheel as the car accelerates down the empty road.

The tension between you is unbearable. Something primal inside you needs to break it, to soothe the beast you've awakened. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt with trembling fingers, leaning across the center console.

"What are you doing?" His voice is razor-sharp, but he doesn't push you away.

You lean in, pressing your lips against his flexed jawline. The scent of him fills your lungs as you trail kisses along the tense line of his jaw, up to the sensitive spot beneath his ear.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," you whisper, your lips brushing against his skin. "I only want you. Only ever you."

His breath hitches, almost imperceptibly. The car swerves sharply, tires squealing against asphalt as Axel yanks the wheel to the right. 

You grab the dashboard to steady yourself as he pulls into a desolate parking lot, the Camaro's headlights illuminating the skeletal remains of what must have once been a factory or warehouse. 

He cuts the engine, plunging you into darkness broken only by distant streetlights. The silence is deafening.

"Back seat. Now." His voice is barely above a whisper, but it might as well be thunder for the way it makes your body respond.

Without a word, you scramble between the front seats, the confined space forcing your body to brush against his as you maneuver into the back. 

The leather creaks beneath you, cool against your heated skin through the thin fabric of your gi. Your heart hammers against your ribs, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

Axel follows with predatory grace, his larger frame moving with surprising fluidity as he climbs after you. 

The car feels smaller now, the back seat a cage of shadows and tension. His body cages yours against the seat, one knee pressed between your thighs, hands planted on either side of your head.

"You think a simple 'sorry' fixes this?" His voice is dangerously soft, breath hot against your cheek. 

In the dim light filtering through the windows, his eyes are midnight blue, pupils dilated with something dominant. "You let him look at you. Touch you."

"He didn't touch me," you protest weakly, even as heat floods your core at the possessive fury radiating from him.

One large hand slides up to wrap around your throat, not squeezing, just resting there. A reminder of his strength, his control. His thumb traces your racing pulse.

"I think you've forgotten something important," he murmurs, his lips a breath away from yours. "I think you need to be reminded exactly who you belong to. Who your daddy is."

The word sends electricity down your spine, pooling like liquid fire between your thighs. 

Your breath catches as his other hand tugs at the belt of your gi, the fabric parting beneath his impatient fingers.

"Tell me," he demands, voice dropping an octave lower. "Who makes you feel like this?" 

His hand slips beneath your sports bra, calloused fingers finding your nipple.

He pinches, hard, and you gasp as he swallows the sound with his mouth. His teeth catch your lower lip, tugging with just enough pressure to send sparks of pleasure-pain down your spine.

"Answer me," he growls against your mouth.

"You," you breathe. "Only you, Daddy."

Something dark and satisfied flashes in his eyes.

"Then why," he murmurs, "does everyone need to be reminded?"

His mouth descends to your neck, teeth scraping over your pulse point before he sucks hard against the sensitive skin.

The sharp sting makes you cry out, back arching involuntarily as heat floods your core.

He doesn't relent, working the spot until you're squirming beneath him, knowing he's leaving a mark that will be impossible to hide tomorrow.

"You're mine," he whispers against your damp skin before moving lower, leaving a constellation of bruises down your throat, across your collarbone.

"Yes," you gasp, fingers clutching at his shoulders, his hair, anything to anchor yourself against the tide of sensation. "I'm yours, Daddy. Always yours."

His eyes flash with dark satisfaction as he captures your mouth again, tongue demanding entrance. You yield instantly, letting him claim you completely.

Without warning, his hands grip your hips with bruising force. In one fluid motion, he flips you over, manhandling your body until you're facing the seat back, knees pressed into the leather. 

Your gi falls open further, exposing your back to the cool air of the car.

His palm lands between your shoulder blades, pressing you down until your cheek is against the leather, ass raised high. 

The position leaves you vulnerable, exposed, completely at his mercy. Your breathing comes in shallow pants, anticipation coiling tight in your belly.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his voice is rough with desire as he admires the curve of your spine, the way your body submits to him so perfectly. "Waiting for your punishment like a good girl." 

You feel his hand caress the swell of your ass through the thin cotton of your gi pants, his touch deceptively gentle. His warmth disappears for a moment, and you hear the rustle of fabric as he pushes your pants down to expose your skin to the cool air.

"Who do you belong to?" he demands, his palm resting possessively on your bare flesh.

"You, Daddy," you whisper, voice trembling with anticipation.

"Louder."

"You, Daddy!" 

The first strike comes without warning, a sharp crack that echoes in the confined space of the car. The sting blooms across your skin, pain transforming instantly into pleasure that radiates outward. 

A moan tears from your throat, raw and unfiltered.

"That's it," he growls, his palm connecting again, harder this time. "Let me hear how much you love being put in your place."

Your fingers claw at the leather seat as another slap lands, then another. Each impact sends shockwaves of pleasure-pain coursing through your body. 

Your moans grow louder, more desperate with each strike. The heat between your thighs intensifies, your body dripping with arousal, each strike pushing you closer to the edge.

"Please," you gasp, voice breaking as another blow lands on your reddened skin. "Please, Daddy."

His hand stills, resting hot against your burning flesh. 

"Please what?" His voice is dark velvet, wrapping around you like a physical touch. "Use your words, baby. Tell Daddy exactly what you need."

You turn your head, catching his gaze over your shoulder. His eyes burn into yours, pupils blown wide with desire, a flush high on his cheekbones. 

The sight of him so controlled yet so close to breaking, makes something submissively unfurl within you.

"Make me yours," you whisper, then louder, more desperate: "Please, Daddy, I need you inside me. Need you to claim me. Make me yours completely."

A growl rumbles from deep in his chest as he leans forward, his body caging yours completely. His fingers hook into the waistband of your underwear, dragging the fabric down your thighs in one swift motion.

You feel the cool air against your exposed skin, your body trembling with anticipation. You hear the rustle of fabric behind you as Axel shoves his own underwear down, the sound of elastic snapping against his thighs.

His hard length presses against you, hot and insistent, sliding through your wetness.

"Is this what you want?" he growls, his voice barely human. "To be claimed? To be reminded who you belong to?"

"Yes," you gasp, pressing back against him, desperate for more. "Please, Daddy."

He grips your hips with bruising force, driving his thick length into you in a single, merciless thrust. 

The air leaves your lungs in a startled cry that echoes through the car's interior. There's no gentle easing, no careful adjustment.

Just the delicious burn of being filled completely, suddenly, overwhelmingly.

"This what you needed?" he snarls against your ear, withdrawing almost completely before slamming back in. "This what you were thinking about while that asshole was trying to touch you?"

Your answer dissolves into a broken moan as he sets a punishing rhythm, each thrust driving you forward against the leather seat. 

The car rocks with the force of his movements, windows beginning to fog with your combined heat and desperate breaths.

His fingers dig into your hips, angling you perfectly to hit that spot deep inside that makes stars explode behind your eyelids. 

The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, punctuated by your desperate moans and his guttural growls.

One hand leaves your hip, sliding up your spine to tangle in your hair, still up from practice.

His fingers twist in the strands, tightening until your scalp tingles with exquisite pain. With a sharp tug, he pulls your head back, forcing your spine into a deep arch.

"Ugh, yes," you gasp, the words barely coherent as pleasure spirals through you. 

The painful tension against your scalp sends shockwaves down your nerve endings, amplifying every sensation. Your eyes flutter closed as he pulls harder, using your hair like reins to control your movements.

"You love this, don't you?" he growls, his voice thick with possession. "Love when I remind you who you belong to."

Another sharp tug has you crying out, the sound sending ripples of electric pleasure down your spine. "You love being my little slut."

"Yes," you admit, the confession torn from your throat. "Yes, Daddy, I love it—love being yours—"

Your words dissolve into a cry as his free hand slides around your hip, finding the slick bundle of nerves between your thighs. 

His fingers circle with practiced precision, knowing exactly how to touch you, how to wind you tighter and tighter until you're trembling on the edge of release.

"You're going to cum for me," he commands, voice rough with exertion. "Going to cum on my cock while I remind you who this belongs to."

The dual assault of his relentless thrusts and skilled fingers has you spiraling quickly toward the precipice. Your muscles tighten, trembling with the effort of holding back.

"Please, Daddy," you gasp, your voice breaking with desperation. "I need to cum. Please let me cum. Mark me so everyone knows."

Your plea hangs in the steamy air of the car, raw and honest. The confession makes something shift in Axel's expression, a flash of satisfaction darkening his eyes.

His fingers press harder against your sensitive bundle of nerves, circling with devastating precision while his other hand tightens in your hair. 

He leans over you, his chest pressing against your back as his lips find your ear.

"You want to be marked?" His voice is gravel and silk, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "You want everyone to see who you belong to?"

"Yes," you moan, pushing back against him, meeting each thrust with desperate need. "Please claim me, make it so I feel you tomorrow—feel you for days."

Without warning, his teeth sink into the junction where your neck meets your shoulder, biting down with calculated force. The sweet, sharp pain radiates outward like lightning, making you cry out as pleasure and pain become indistinguishable.

He sucks hard against the tender flesh, tongue soothing the bite as his teeth leave their unmistakable imprint on your skin.

A visible brand that screams ownership to anyone who sees. The sensation pushes you over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you with devastating intensity.

"All mine," he growls against the mark, his hips never losing their punishing rhythm. "Everyone will see it. Everyone will know."

Your inner walls clench around him as you shatter, each pulse drawing a guttural sound from his throat. 

Your vision blurs, body convulsing as wave after wave of pleasure radiates outward from your core. Through it all, he doesn't stop, doesn't slow. Driving you higher, deeper into sensation.

His rhythm grows erratic, his breathing harsh against your neck as he chases his own release. His fingers dig into your hips with bruising force, holding you steady as he drives into you one final time, burying himself to the hilt.

"Fuck," he snarls, voice breaking as his body goes rigid. "Taking it all, baby. Every. Fucking. Drop."

You moan softly as the hot pulse of him inside you, fills you completely as he grinds against you, working through his climax. 

His forehead drops to your shoulder, breath coming in ragged pants against your sweat-slicked skin. For a moment, you're both suspended in the aftermath, connected in the most renowned way.

When he finally slides out, you whimper at the loss. But before you can mourn the emptiness, his fingers are there, two of them sliding through the evidence of his release. 

He pushes his thick fingers through your folds, gathering his release and slowly pressing it back into you, making sure not a drop escapes. 

The possessive gesture sends another wave of pleasure through your oversensitive body, drawing a long, low moan from your throat.

"That's right," he murmurs, voice rough with satisfaction as his fingers work deeper. "Keep it all inside you. My mark. My claim."

Your walls clench around his fingers instinctively, your body eager to hold onto this physical reminder of him. 

This intimate gesture makes you feel warm inside. You adore the way he refuses to let even this part of himself leave you, wanting to keep himself with you even when he can't be physically inside you.

"I love when you do that," you whisper, the confession slipping out before you can stop it. Your voice sounds wrecked, vulnerable in the steamed-up confines of the car.

"When you make sure part of you stays with me."

His eyes darken at your confession, something vulnerable flickering across his features before the possessive heat returns. 

In one fluid motion, he withdraws his fingers and wraps his arm around your waist, turning you to face him. The movement is sudden but careful, mindful of the confined space as he pulls you onto his lap.

"Come here," he murmurs, his voice softer than before but no less commanding.

His hand cradles your face, thumb brushing across your cheekbone with unexpected tenderness. 

The gentleness is startling after the storm of passion that just swept through the car. His eyes search yours, intense and unguarded in a way that makes your breath catch.

When his lips find yours, the kiss is different. It's slower, deeper, an intimate claiming rather than a conquering. 

His tongue traces the seam of your mouth with deliberate care, coaxing rather than demanding. 

You melt against him, opening to the intimate exploration as his arms tighten around you.

When you break apart, both breathless and dizzy, you rest your forehead against his.

"I love you," you whisper into the small space between your lips, the words hanging in the steamy air like a confession. "So much it scares me sometimes."

His eyes, usually so guarded, soften in that way reserved only for you. One large hand cups your cheek, thumb tracing your lower lip with reverent tenderness.

"I love you more," he says, voice low and certain. The simple declaration holds the weight of an oath. "More than you'll ever understand."

For a moment, you consider arguing, telling him it's impossible, that your love for him defies measurement. 

But the vulnerable tenderness between you feels too precious to disrupt with words. You simply nod, letting your body say what language can't fully express.

Reluctantly, you disentangle yourself from his embrace, wincing slightly as your muscles protest the movement. 

The evidence of your passion is written across your body in marks and tender spots that will linger for days. You find you don't mind.

You both dress in comfortable silence, the air between you transformed from desperate need to something deeper, more settled. 

Your fingers fumble with the ties of your gi, still trembling slightly from exertion. 

Axel notices, of course. He notices everything about you. And gently brushes your hands aside to fix the knot properly, his touch now practical but no less intimate.

Once you've made it back to the passenger seat with Axel in his driver's side, you're retying your hair back up into a ponytail.

"Let's get ice cream," he says suddenly, the casual suggestion so at odds with the intensity of moments before that

"Ice cream?" The question bursts from your lips with unexpected delight, your mouth curving into a smile that feels almost out of place after the intensity you've just shared. 

The simple domesticity of the suggestion washes over you like a cool wave, soothing the lingering heat beneath your skin.

"Yes," you breathe, already imagining the sweet relief against your tongue. "That sounds perfect."

He smiles softly, that rare smile transforming his features into something almost boyish despite the possessive marks he's left all over your body.

The Camaro rumbles to life beneath you, its vibration humming through your already sensitized body. 

You shift in your seat, feeling the pleasant ache between your thighs, a physical reminder of your passionate encounter.

Axel reaches across the center console, his hand sliding up your thigh as he drives, fingers tracing idle patterns against the thin fabric of your gi pants.

Only the touch isn't demanding anymore. It's grounding, possessive in a quieter way that makes your heart swell.

─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─

Masterlist

Taglist: @ggrgcribg

(a/n: next one is fluff, I swear 🫡)

[yutarot]

RIDE OR DIE: l.jn smau

011: risk. wc: 0.7k

he never usually gets nervous for races. but something about tonight is making him want to scream.

after his fake breakup with you, jeno has been on edge. knowing you told chenle, but not knowing if and who chenle had told, is killing him.

that’s why tonight’s race is so important, for once in his life, losing has consequences. because now, it’s not just jaemin that knows who he is.

you do.

as usual, he gets picked up by his personal driver, his mask and hood both on. he takes his identity seriously, it’s who he is and what he does that defines him. he can’t let anyone see that. not after you.

the ride there was like torture, but when he arrived, his management team suiting him up and passing him along conferences before he finally arrives at his car, he truly feels the nerves kick in.

he hasn’t felt like this in a long time.

his arms tense before stepping in.

he has to win this. more than ever.

because he knows your watching.

he tells himself it’s because you know he’s jeno, he tells himself it’s because his pride is now transferred to the other side of his life.

but truly?

that wasn’t the reason.

the race begins smoothly, the first couple of laps are a breeze but he begins to feel restricted by his tiredness early on. he really has to push for it.

as he gets close to his last few laps, he senses someone at his side.

he’s so close. he’s been in the lead this entire time.

“fuck.” he swears to himself, a whisper of agony.

as the car makes its way into his peripheral vision, he notices its colour.

it’s red.

side to side to jeno, is none other than his rival.

the man who’s been taunting samo since he began to race.

johnny suh.

he wishes, with everything in him, that he could ram his car into johnnys side. but he would be risking both his career and his life.

he could almost imagine johnnys smirk as he begins to pass him. but jeno doesn’t let up, he cant afford to.

so he does what only he does best.

he takes the risk.

as he floors it. directly. in johnnys path.

johnny immediately slams on his breaks, spinning out of control before coming to a stop.

in about 5 seconds, jeno is past the finish line. johnny far behind him.

he did it.

his streak, kept. his title, remained.

samo has won.

he felt pride in knowing that it wasn’t just jaemin who could congratulate him. he was hoping that you would too. as for chenle? he couldn’t give a shit about chenle.

his journey from the podium, all the way to his private room was enough for his ego to double in size, both men and women cheering him on as he gives talks to mics, poses to cameras and even hands out a few signatures, everyone wishing he would just take his helmet off so they can see his real face.

but he never will. and he stands by that.

stepping into his room, sofa, tv and mini-bar all intact, he makes sure he’s alone before throwing his helmet and suit off, changing into something more comfortable.

he turns on the tv, the news channel automatically on, and he can’t be bothered to change it.

grabbing a few things out of the fridge, he begins to make himself a quick meal, cutting up all kinds of meat and extras.

but his attention is distracted as he hears his name mentioned in the news.

and it wasn’t ’samo.’

it was ‘jeno.

he immediately drops the knife on the chopping board, grabbing the tv controller and turning it up, before walking slowing to the tv area, standing face to face with the tv.

watching as his face is plastered on the screen.

“just in, it appears there’s been a leak on social media concerning the identity of faceless f1 driver, samo. confirmation has been made and sources suggest his identity as neotech university student, jeno lee. reporter lee taeyong is here with the full stor-.”

blood rushes to his head, his breath comes to a halt. his anger disburses as he breaks the closest thing to him he can find, a crash echoing from his room as due to the crack of the tv screen.

when he finally, truly, comes back to reality, he hears a knock on the door.

“samo? you in there?”

he has nowhere to hide.

“shit.”

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notes; so…… 🤭🤭 who do we think leaked it 🤭🤭 (also i posted my first ever oneshot today!!! and im so so happy with the way it turned out🙏)

taglist — open! @jenohyun @jirsungs @do-you-remember-summer-127 @ddolbyong @stqrgr7 @thatsatricky1 @sunghoonsgfreal @nattan127 @ssweetreveries @flamingi @lesuneczka @chenlesfavorite @peterm4rker @snoopyjimin @akunoeyebrows @junviadinho @slayhaechan @f6llsun @multifandomania @cookiehaos @catecita @mrsjohnnysuh @luv4jeno @hyuckies18 @dreamiestay @tangerinelovelees @jjaegyeom @https-yeonjun @nanaxwi @yukisroom97 @nosungluv @mrkleelvr @neocrashed @jaedgemental @apolloxxivmin @kyubing @catdonut657 @dudekiss3r @juyeonshour @hamjwis @antifrggile @mmjhh1998 @ldh0000 @thegracerammy @jenocity23 @honeynanamin @bluedbliss @lampcults @yyangj3lly

[kazuhahalol]

— alone on valentine’s day | Jeff the Killer x reader

Jeff, new to love, doesn’t understand how to show you he loves you. He attempts and fails miserable, only terrifying you.

TW: Slight gore, stalking

masterlist

You don’t remember when the feeling started.

The sense of something lurking just beyond your peripheral vision, creeping at the edges of your life like a shadow that never quite faded. A presence that never announced itself but made sure you felt it.

At first, it was just small things. Your window open when you swore you locked it, your bedroom door cracked open in the morning when you knew you shut it before bed. You’d brush it off, chalk it up to forgetfulness, to paranoia, to your mind playing tricks on you.

But then things started changing.

People you hated, people who deserved something bad started disappearing.

Your English teacher, the one who made you cry in class once, never came back after winter break. Some guy who harassed you on the way home from school ended up in the obituaries a week later. A “hit-and-run,” they said. You tried not to think about it, tried not to make connections where none should exist.

But deep down, you knew.

Someone was watching.

Someone was doing this for you.

And today, on Valentine’s Day, they left you a gift.

It was late at night when you opened your front door. The street was quiet, the air cold and still. But sitting on the welcome mat was a tiny box. Thinking it’s just a package someone in your family ordered you pick it up and bring it inside. There was no name, no address, no identification of the sender.

So, you did what anyone else would. You opened it. Inside, nestled in a bed of what looked like human hair, was a severed finger. Still fresh. Still warm. The nail was cracked, painted a faint pink. You recognized it. It was the same shade your teacher always wore.

You were curious, but you weren’t stupid. You called the police immediately and told them about the feelings you’ve been getting of someone stalking you. The severed finger of your rude teacher was enough proof to confirm someone was indeed stalking you, so the cops set up cars around the neighborhood to prevent anyone from harming you.

Useless.

The first thing you notice when you wake up is the horrible smell. Thick, metallic, suffocating. It clings to the air, staining it with something wrong. Something terrible. You sit up, heart racing, your sheets damp with sweat. The clock on your nightstand reads 3:14 AM.

Your bedroom window is open. You don’t remember opening it.

The curtains sway in the cold air, whispering against the walls. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps. You tell yourself not to look.

But you do anyway to satisfy your insatiable curiosity, and there—on the windowsill—is a handprint. Smudged deep into the wood. Dark, sticky, still wet.

You fight the urge to pass out.

A sound echoes from somewhere outside your window. Footsteps. Slow. Heavy. Measured. You don’t move. You don’t breathe. The footsteps stop. Then, a voice, low and paced with amusement.

“You’re awake.”

Your heart seizes. You want to move, to run, but your body won’t listen. Every muscle locks up, your skin crawling with something deeply, terribly wrong. A shadow shifts beyond the window, a raspy voice speaking to you.

“You dream about me?”

The voice is closer now. Whispering through the dark. Your breath shudders out of you in a weak, broken gasp. The air feels thicker, like something unseen is crawling along your walls. You want to throw up.

You squeeze your eyes shut. You will yourself to wake up because this has to be a dream. Suddenly, a quiet thunk lands against the floor.

Then another…and another. You don’t even want to know what it is.

But when you finally open your eyes there’s only a box at the foot of your bed, just like the one that held your teachers finger. Your vision blurs, breath sharp and ragged, but your hands move anyway.

Because this was always meant for you.

You grasp the lid of the small box, your fingers shaking, sinking into something damp and warm. Inside, tangled in a mess of severed, dripping hair, lies a necklace.

Silver…delicate…still attached to the flesh of a freshly torn-off throat. You could only recognize the necklace as your teachers.

A note is stuffed beneath it. The edges soaked in some substance that causes you to gag and hold back your vomit. The handwriting was terrible and you could only make out half of it.

“You know me. I’ve been inside your room. I’ve watched you sleep. I know how you breathe. I know how you smell. I know when you touch yourself. I know your favorite food. I know you cry yourself to sleep most nights. How you look when you’re afraid. I know how often you get scared because I’ve always been here.”

Jeff doesn’t understand why you screamed for your parents while he watched you through the fabric of your curtain.

Earlier today, he watched as you cried in the girls bathroom at school after getting publicly humiliated by your teacher. Jeff is foreign to love, so he thought if he killed her and gave you a gift on the day of love, you’d love him. Jeff doesn’t think he’s scaring you because Jeff thinks he’s loving you, and he only wants you to love him back.

[cherrykpawp]

Heat // Ch 7.5

This chapter includes: Flashbacks, hybrids, Origin of adoption, Afab!reader, reader-centric, angst, mentions of death, suicidal thoughts (if you are not comfortable, you do not have to read it. Please, take care of yourself <3.)

Taglist: @m-flowerjunnie-oa, @mrsminseochoi, @strawwff, @sunlight120902, @awkward-fucking-thing, @menialmoonchild, @jjongsho, @chanscase143, @lililiarina, @babyquokkasworld

Song rec: Like Him - Tyler, The Creator

W.C: 4.4k

“She’s perfect, thank you.” A male voice said to the lady in white with confidence and ease. Sitting timidly, you watched with curious eyes as the male offered his hand to you. “You may not look like her, but you do have some of her qualities.”

Who was the lady he was referring to? The older man, somewhere between his forties and fifties, had told you earlier that you were being adopted today. It was your first time, and you wanted to make a good first impression on your new owners. You’d been given a fresh set of clothes: a baby blue pullover, matching sweats, and white loafers. As you left your hybrid friends behind, you set forth into what would be a new chapter of your life.

The older man drove you to your new home. You sat quietly in the passenger seat, staring out the window as the trees blurred past. There were a million and one questions you wanted to ask, but none escaped your lips. Instead, you chose to wait until you arrived before saying anything. Your tail wrapped around your waist, reassuring yourself that this would be a great experience.

“You know, I never expected to be giving anyone a hybrid. You creatures are pretty otherworldly.” The older man attempted to start a conversation, but you weren’t sure how to respond. You acknowledged that you were meant to be a gift for someone—something given, not chosen. Instead of speaking, you simply bowed your head toward him, turning your gaze back to the window.

The drive was only an hour. When the car finally pulled to the curb, you noticed a pleasant-looking house beside it. It was a fairly standard home, with a large, cozy front patio, a red rooftop, and tall trees surrounding it, their leaves swaying in the gentle breeze. Autumn was approaching, and the leaves had slowly begun to shift into their vibrant shades of orange and red.

“Come out, hun.” The male stepped out of the driver's side, and you followed, exiting the passenger's side with your old clothes in hand.

He walked you to the door of the house and rang the doorbell three times. The sharp, echoing chime made your ears twitch—it was higher-pitched than the regular doorbells you’d heard in the movies at the clinic. Soon after, the door opened. But with the man standing in the way, you couldn’t see who was on the other side.

“Hello, grandma.” Grandma? You thought he was old enough to be a grandfather, not the grandchild of the person standing at the door.

“Hi, baby. How are you today?” Her voice sounded so fragile, with a twinge of sadness that made your ears droop against your head.

He walked forward, so you followed quietly behind him, careful not to make your presence known. “I’m great, I'm great. Have you been taking your vitamins and medication?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. I’d forget my head if it weren't on my shoulders.” With a deep sigh, she settled onto a sofa you could make out in your peripheral vision. From behind the man, you could see a glimpse of her soft, grey curls. “What brings you here today?”

He cleared his throat, looking a bit nervous. “Well…I know you haven’t been…happy or lively…since Mom passed away.” A quiet moment of silence passed between the three of you, heavy with unspoken emotions. “So I thought it might be a good idea to have someone there—to take care of you, watch over you, and make sure you’re taking your vitamins and medications.”

The older lady didn’t say anything at first—she seemed to be waiting for more context. Still, she didn’t seem particularly pleased. The man stepped aside, finally revealing you to your owner. She was definitely someone’s grandmother—her face and hands were etched deep with heavy wrinkles, and an oxygen tank beside her, its tubes running to her nostrils. Her eyes appeared so… disconnected, undoubtedly mourning the loss of her daughter. She looked at you, but you couldn’t tell what kind of stare it was—approval, confusion, or something else entirely. You were nervous suddenly, but instinctively, you bowed to her, hoping to make a good impression.

“Hello, ma’am, I’m Y/n. It’s nice to meet you.” She didn’t respond.  Instead, her eyes flicked between you and her grandson, her expression unreadable.

Sensing the deafening silence, he stepped in, and the ambience in the room had gone stale. “I got you a hybrid,” he said gently. “I heard they’re good for companionship, comfort, and assistance. I can’t be here all the time to take care of you, my kids, and my grandbabies. I’m getting weak myself, and soon I’ll need them to take care of me.” He paused, then continued, trying to reason with her. “I know she may not look like Mom, but…she has her eyes. That’s what encouraged me to bring her to you. Maybe you’ll find some comfort behind them.”

The older lady didn’t know what to say. Her bottom lip trembled as she tried for something,  anything, to say. “Companion? My daughter’s eyes?” She repeated softly, her voice wavering. It wasn’t quite a question, more a disbelief she couldn’t quite process. “I guess that’s the reality of the situation, huh?” She inhaled deeply from the oxygen tank, the hissing sound filling the silence. “Bring her back. I can take care of myself.”

“Grandma, no, you can’t. You can’t even remember to take your meds.” He was clearly frustrated by her stubbornness.

“They don’t help anyway.”

Your tail was tightly wrapped around your waist, nervously toying with the bottom of your pullover. You didn’t know whether to intervene or remain silent, unsure if your emotional acumen was sharp enough for the tension in the room.

“I’m afraid I can’t do that, I just brought her here. Please, give her a try. 

“It’s the audacity,” she spat, “to come here and even remotely assume that she has her traits, let alone that she's not fully human. It’s an insult. She’s gone…”

“And I know that.” His voice cracked, sounding broken himself, as if he were trying to mend a shattered vase with scotch tape and hope. “You don’t think I miss my mother?” The weight of his words hung in the air. “You’re the only thing closest to her, and I need you alive and well.”

She gave a disappointed look, “I can’t accept this…” Her voice was quiet but adamant. The male looked defeated, his gaze turning to look at you, filled with sorrow. 

You knelt in front of them, bowing your head to her. 

“Ma’am, I know you don’t know me yet, but I am sorry for what’s happened to your daughter. I’m sorry that I am not like her and will probably never compare to her. But your grandson brought me here to take care of you. Even if you can’t see her in me, at least allow me to ensure you’re in great health, to live another day. I can see the hurt in your eyes, they seem so broken.” You frowned deeply, wishing you could provide her with what she actually wanted: her daughter. “I can’t bring her back like you might want, or magically turn into her. But please, let me help you try to live for her. I’m sure she wouldn’t want you giving up so easily. Your grandson looks like he’s been trying his hardest.” 

You raised your head slowly, offering a gentle expression on your face. “Please, give me a week. Let me try to take her off your mind or fill a void for you. If I’m not suitable, I’ll voluntarily return to the clinic.”

The old woman was rendered speechless, her lips pressed into a brooding, taut line. Her gaze remained distant, as if she no longer had the strength to put up a fight. The grandson looked nervous, torn between his grandmother and the hope he’d placed in you. You could see the exhaustion in his face, the weariness of fighting this losing battle. His plight was written in the lines of his wrinkled eyes—a desperation for peace and for this to work. You wanted to cower, but you knew you had to persuade her—to show her that you could help.

“A week…you have a week.” You sighed with contentment, easing off your knees, your grip tightening around your clothes as a sense of relief washed over you.

~~

For the entire week, you gave your best effort, staying on your A-game. Each morning, you made sure that her meds were by her side with a glass of water. You helped her with her oxygen tank, assisted her to the restroom when she needed, which wasn’t often, and cooked meals from the recipes she had written down—her favorite dishes, as well as those her daughter once loved. You kept her company, sitting with her as she watched her favorite shows, and encouraged her to take thirty-minute walks for exercise. She still hadn’t warmed up to you, seeing you as nothing more than a stranger, but you didn’t let that stop you.

However, as the week came to a close, you decided it was time to bring up the topic during her daily lunch. Butterflies fluttered in your stomach, but curiosity pushed you forward.

“Ma’am?” 

She chewed her food slowly, glancing over at you as you spoke. 

“It’s been a week today since you got me. Have you made up your mind on whether you want to keep me or not?”

The elderly woman placed her fork down, leaning back in her chair. “I do want to keep you.” She nodded, a brooding look clouding her face. “It’s just hard to accept, you know?”

Though you never lost anyone personally, you could feel her grief and how heavy it weighed on her. You simply waited, allowing her to continue. 

“She was supposed to bury me.” Her voice trembled, eyes distant with memory. “She had so much more to live for. Even though people saw her as older, she was forever young to me. Forever my baby… It hurts to remember her… but it feels even worse to try and forget someone who came into your life and changed it for the better. Especially your own child.” She glared at the clock in her kitchen with visceral spite. “Time is evil and selfish… yet I still wish I could turn it back. Just one more day. Just to see her again.”

“Would you feel better… even if you had that ability?” You asked curiously, empathy threading your voice.

The older woman shook her head, “No,” she replied. “Because I still wouldn’t be able to prevent the inevitable. Time would’ve still taken her away.”

Your ears flattened on your head, wishing there was more you could do to ease her pain. “I don’t know if this seems inconsiderate, but I’d like to know more about your daughter—what she liked, what she was into, the shows she watched, her hobbies… You can tell me all about her if it makes you feel better.”

And your owner did just that.

Almost every day for the past month, she spoke about her daughter nonstop. But never once minded. Listening to her made you learn not just about the woman she’d lost, but about your owner herself. You found out her daughter had been a choir singer at church, faithfully attending weekly. That revelation sparked the desire to learn how to sing. You discovered her favorite artists and the songs she loved, which your owner played daily around the house. You learned her favorite colors, her hobbies, and comfort food—and, over time, you came to appreciate those things too. It felt as though you were almost shaping into her daughter’s image. And if that was the role you had to play, you were determined to give it your all. However, it wasn’t just about duty. The truth was, you genuinely enjoyed it. This was your first real glimpse into the world beyond the same four walls of the clinic. 

One day, in the following month of learning about her daughter, you realized you’d run out of heat suppressants. Reluctantly, you had to tell her about it. Having already read about heats from the pamphlets her grandson left behind, she was familiar with the concept—even if she found it hard to fully accept.

“It’s… strange to me,” she admitted after a pause. “But that’s just my old, religious ways talking. I don’t mean to judge.” 

She promised to help you find a heat hotel, her concern evident when asking about your safety and comfort. When it was time for you to leave for the week, she wished you nothing but peace and protection. When you returned, though, she noticed something was off immediately—and when she asked, you told her you were quite upset about your experience and the discomfort, and expressed it to her. It wasn’t the place she’d sent you that upset you—it was who was supposed to “help” while you were there.

“I’m sorry that I sent you there. Next time, I’ll find somewhere better for you.” She comforted you, rubbing a hand on your lower back, then added a bit of dry humor, “Boys are terrible in all forms they come in, huh?” Her lightheartedness made you chuckle despite yourself, and when you looked up at her smiling, for what seemed like the first time… it filled you with joy. 

The second time your heat came around, she was more prepared. She quietly set aside some money to book a better hotel for you, sending you off with another heartfelt safe and peaceful heat. While the hotel itself was better, the heat partner assigned… wasn’t. He was abrasive, inconsiderate of you, your heat, and your boundaries—only focused on satisfying his own needs.

“I don’t think these hotels are going to work out for you, then. I’m not sending you anymore. We can find an alternative.”

The alternative was better, but still, it wasn’t comparable to the real thing. You put up with it for her, guilt settling about this fragile woman having to pay for your way of life. She could barely keep up with her medications, let alone afford the hotels. So, you did what you could to satisfy yourself in your room until it was over. 

Your time with her continued over the following months, celebrating her birthday by baking a cake for her the night before. As you expected, she was in her eighties—a milestone you could tell was weighing on her, but she never let it show. The two of you had formed a bond during your time together. Slowly, she stopped seeing you as just the hybrid her grandson brought to her, but instead, she began to treat you more like a daughter—someone she could share memories with, someone who was there for her, not just to fulfill a need.

She would brush your locks that had grown just past your shoulders, humming soft tunes as she gently combed through every section. You would purr at the sensation, especially when the teeth of the brush lightly touched your ear. You had grown accustomed to wrapping your tail around her whenever you needed comfort, and she had come to find the action endearing. She would style your hair in a variety of ways—ponytails, braids, buns, waves, or curls—and show you her work with the hand mirror. Her hand would tremble as she held it for you. In those moments, you’d either hold her hand steady or gently take the mirror from her, not wanting her to struggle. She would apologize now and then, embarrassed by the shaking. But you would always reassure her, appreciating the time she took to beautifully style your hair for you, knowing that each strand she arranged carried a piece of her love and care. 

One night, as you were cleaning, you noticed a heavy trunk tucked away in the hallway closet. It was too heavy for you to lift on your own, so you decided to ask her about it.

“Grandma, what’s that trunk in the closet filled with?” you asked, tilting your head slightly.

The older woman set her cup of tea down on the small plate in her hand. “It’s her clothes. From when she was in her early teens to her late thirties. She kept them here because she always hoped to give them to her daughter one day… but she ended up having an only boy.” 

She placed the cup on the table in front of her, locking her fingers together on top of her legs. “Now, there’s no reason for them to be here. But if you want to wear them, you can.” She paused to inhale deeply from her oxygen tank, a brief wheeze before a cough followed. 

“That wouldn’t be right of me,” you refused, glancing at the trunk, silently debating whether or not to browse through its contents. 

“Please, I insist.” She said genuinely, peering down at you in the hallway. “They probably look too old or vintage—as the kids say these days—but they’re timeless.”

You tried on a few pieces from the trunk. The ones from her younger teen years didn’t fit, so you moved on to the clothes she had worn in adulthood. One by one, you modeled them to your owner. For the first time, she truly saw what her grandson meant when he said you had her eyes. There was that same innocent gleam—soft, curious, and full of life. She didn’t say it aloud. Saying it would mean acknowledging that her daughter was truly gone. Instead, she watched you in silence, a gentle smile on her face. 

For just a moment, she saw her little girl again— alive in your presence, in the way you moved, in the way you looked back at her. All of her memories of her daughter came rushing back—raising her, watching her grow up, taking her first steps, going through her first heartbreak, finding her first love, holding her first baby… and being there in her final moments. Now, she looked at you, standing in clothes that were previously hers, and her heart ached—but not with grief. She wouldn’t want you to suffer. She wouldn’t want another one of her ‘daughters’ to bear such pain at a young age. She wanted to keep this image of you—whole, gentle—etched into her memory forever. Even if her mind blurred the line… even if, sometimes, it played tricks and turned you into a faded reflection of the girl she lost. And so, with joy softening her face, her eyes finally full of peace, she took one final, slow inhale from her oxygen tank…

You were too distracted by the excitement of new clothing to notice how quiet it had become. As you sifted through the trunk, picking out outfits to try on later, you were happy to see that there were clothes for the fall, and even some that would be perfect for winter and spring—her daughter has really been a fashionista. Pulling out a beautiful dress you saw, you were ready to ask your owner about it—until your heart dropped. 

Your owner sat on her couch—still, tranquil, her eyes gently closed. A faint smile lingered on her lips, as if she were simply resting after a long day. But her arms lay motionless at her sides, insinuating that something was wrong. 

Dropping everything, you rushed to her side, panic gripping your chest. “Grandma? Are you okay?” You tilted her head up, only to watch it loll lifelessly to the side. Tears welled in your eyes as your shaky fingers felt for her pulse—nothing. Desperately, you pressed your hand on your chest, hoping for the rise and fall of breath. 

Stillness. She was gone.

“No, no, no, no!” Your voice cracked, raw with disbelief, in denial that this is happening.

You grabbed her landline phone, frantically scrolling through her contacts in search of someone to call. When you saw the name of her grandson, you broke down in tears as you dialed his number. He picked up after four rings, his voice sounding tired.”

“Hello?”

You sniffled into the phone, voice shaking. “Hi, it’s y/n”. Tear streamed down your face as you struggled to find your next words. This is your first time experiencing something like this. “Grandma…grandma—she’s…”

Within the next hour, her grandson arrived at the door with the paramedics. You sat by her leg, mourning the loss of your owner, unsure of where to go or what to do. The paramedics checked her pulse, confirming her passing before placing her on a stretcher and transporting her to the back of the ambulance. Her grandson’s eyes were red and puffy, reflecting the pain of having lost both of them in one year. He hugged you, needing comfort himself, as you tried to console each other. 

“I’m sorry I put all this responsibility on you. You didn’t deserve to be here to witness this,” he apologized to you. You shook your head.

“I’m grateful for the time I had with her.” You remembered what she told you months before: time waits for no one. 

“I’m sorry to say this, but… with her gone now, I’m going to have to return you to the clinic.”

Your heart sank in your chest. “B-but, can’t I come live with you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have the space. You were hers, I’m afraid.”

Even though you understood the situation, you couldn’t accept it. You couldn’t go back to the clinic, confined within those four walls. Instead, you pretended to go along with his plan.

“No problem…” You wiped the tears from your eyes, forcing a brave face. “I just need to grab a few things and my shoes.” You released him for the last time, studying his face one final time before you began to plan your escape. 

You went to the kitchen, grabbed the shoes that you usually wore to the backyard, and tightly laced them up. While he was distracted by the paramedics, signing the documents they handed to him, you silently slipped through the back door and bolted as fast as you could. As you ran, tears streamed down your face. You didn’t care where you’d end up; your heart was heavy with the loss of your owner. You finally understood what she meant now—time is cruel and selfish, and you hated every minute of it. Maybe if you hadn’t asked about the clothes, you could have noticed her patterns. But your rational thoughts clashed with your emotions, reminding you that she had been sick anyway and that she had to rely on an oxygen tank. 

But it didn’t hurt any less. 

~~

One heat later, and three months after your escape, you were in no condition to keep striving. The will you once had faded, and though you tried to encourage yourself by thinking you were living for your previous owner, a voice in the back of your mind reminded you that she barely knew you anyway. You learned the hard way that not everyone is as thoughtful or caring as she and her grandson had been. Within your first month on the road, a stranger tried to coax you into coming with her, offering safety. But, when you overheard her on the phone, saying she planning to sell you for thousands, you knew better. You’ve heard the horror stories from your friends at the clinic about terrible things done to hybrids, and you weren’t about to become one of those statistics. 

Some restaurants wouldn’t even allow you to search for food in their garbage, citing “company policy”. Occasionally, a kind person would offer you a warm meal, but they’d often get in trouble for it afterward. The clothes you’d worn for months grew tattered and torn, worn down by trying to keep yourself warm during the bitter winter. You’d stop by some ambulances now and then,  asking for bandages to cover a “bruise”— when in reality, you used them as substitute clothing as parts of your old clothes turned to strings. The EMTs offered help, but you always denied it, unable to trust even them.

In your final month, you had limped into a narrow alleyway, the soles of your feet finally giving out as you collapsed to your knees on the cold concrete. Two dumpsters stood nearby, blocking just enough of the wind from hitting you directly—it made the chill bearable and less biting than the open streets. You cried for a while. Cried because of the situation you’d landed in, all because you couldn’t bring yourself to go back to the clinic like you promised. Cried for how naive you’d been about the world. You cried because you missed the life you had a year ago. And most of all, you cried because you missed your owner, and wished more than anything that you were still with her. You cried until there was nothing left. Until you felt empty.

Emptiness was the last emotion you ever thought you’d feel—yet here it was, settling deep in your chest like a final goodbye. You began to accept that maybe you weren’t meant to be here anymore… on this cruel earth. Maybe the world had already decided your story should end. You wished the cold would just take you, freeze you still, so you wouldn’t have to wake up to another day of struggling to survive. 

With your head bowed, you surrendered to it all, a soft, broken mewl escaping you—of pain, of exhaustion, of a sorrow too heavy for your soul to carry

You shivered constantly, quivering without pause. You had no idea how long you’d been in the alley—minutes, hours—it felt like eons, plus it was the middle of the night, there was no way of telling. Just darkness and its biting chill.

You heard faint footsteps echoing down the alley, growing louder with each step. A soft beam of light swept across the ground—someone with a flashlight. You didn’t look up or move, silently hoping that whoever it was would just pass and leave you alone. But truth be told, you had no more fight left in you. 

“Excuse me, mi—“ the male voice cut off mid-sentence. You didn’t respond to him, already over it—over the concern and the pity. “Are you hurt?” he asked gently. You finally looked up at him with a deadpan expression. He was handsome, clean, and composed, and you? You felt like the trash piled beside you.

What did you get yourself into?

[ateez-himari]

VERSACE; MILAN REUNION

A Designer and Her Muse

. . A limited edition of the fourth generation, a masterpiece of the century

. . The very moonlight illuminating the lavish city seemed to welcome the house's muse home as she stepped out of an expensive car rented by the fashion designer whose gates had opened solely for her, a simple knitted off-the shoulder bodycon dress appearing so luxurious even when decorated with so little jewelry.

"My beautiful girl!" Donatella exclaimed, her native language carrying the beauty she saw in the presence before her. "You did so well tonight, I've missed you so much."

Unable to approach the maknae after the breath taking concert due to the group interacting with fans whilst heading back to their hotel she wrapped bracelet adorned arms around the one that had grown so precious to her, delighting in the bashful giggles echoing through the night air - which made even the bodyguards lose their habitual composure.

"It's been much too long." Himari greeted in that same language, her slight accent only accentuating her charm in the eyes of those watching. "But you should have told me you were coming, I would have arranged for better seating!"

"Nonsense princess, watching you as a fan was more than enough." The older woman retorted, gently cupping her cheek. "Look at you, your hair's down to your lower back now...you grow more beautiful every time I see you."

. . Like a Dragonfly, a spot to rest, a global luxury

. . Walking through the emptied halls in which were displayed numerous paintings created by the vocalist herself, whose delicately manicured hands flew through the air in motions with grace akin to ribbons as she explained the story behind each one with the most beautiful clarity resonating in her voice. Donatella watched carefully, entranced by her angelic beauty much like many that have crossed her path, though her gaze held something almost motherly despite failing to understand certain words laced heavily in an accent foreign to her.

"This gallery is unbelievable..." Himari marveled to herself. "I truly cannot thank you enough for exhibiting my work here."

"You've done more than enough to deserve this." The designer brushed off, placing a hand on her bare shoulder. "You've poured your soul into everything you do for this house, for your group, for the industry...people should see the product of that."

. . Hi, hey, how you doin'? My-my name is

. . Employees could not seem to tear their eyes from the young woman whose every move exuded pure elegance, most coming to understand why an entire sketchbook had been dedicated solely to creating outfits to be worn by her at any given event as despite family names no longer holding much power the royalty in her blood shone through her very existence. Himari caught the curious looks from her peripheral vision, cheeks flushing with a deep pink color as she bowed shyly, uttering out awkward greetings in the language she was slowly growing familiar with - though it only seemed to endear the onlookers further.

"They're just intrigued by you, princess." Donatella reassured with a hand on her tattooed spine. "You surprise even me with your beauty."

"It's just strange to get this sort of attention without my members." The vocalist giggled softly, tugging on her long sleeves out of timidity.

. . Do not waste your time, yeah, it's gotta be me

. . News Sites Wrote;

HYBE reportedly called on an emergency press conference in regards to the theft allegations made by the maknae through a live broadcast yet while the corporation seems to have been left in disarray, brands have been continuously fighting to reel Himari into the front row seats of their fashion week shows. The artist, however, appears to have declined these invitations in order to visit Donatella Versace's home as the two were photographed walking around the evening streets of Milan mere hours following an intense concert - certain passerby stating that they were awe struck when seeing the ambassador in person for the first time. [...]

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

How To Plant Snapdragons | 13

Task Force 141, Keegan & Konig x Female Criminal!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist / Discord

The wipeout of El Sin Nombre's men had been a breeze with Alejandro’s help. There wasn't one who noticed their brothers falling one by one and that was exactly what you wanted.

A whistle got in your ears and from the comms, Soap's voice echoed, “Goddamn, Bonnie, way to go.”

“Isn't she Shampoo now?” Ghost questioned, making you roll your eyes and halted on your tracks as you noticed some gallons of gasoline next to an old Porsche car. You grinned and crouched down next to it as a man stepped out from a corner.

“Call me Shampoo again and I'm calling you fucking Razor or Scrub,” you remarked, shooting a masked man in his head and catching him before he fell. You lowered him down carefully and patted his pockets, fishing out a phone from under his clothes. “Got a phone. Might get some more info from this.”

“Good thinking, Shampoo,” Ghost said through the comms and you could hear stifled chuckles from him and Soap.

“Oh, my fucking God.” You grumbled and popped the gallons open. “You two are never gonna live it down, aren't you?”

“Till we die, Shampoo,” Soap cackled, making you pull a face underneath your mask.

You crouched down behind a bush as you saw Diego inside a room, with a phone in his hand. He yelled in Spanish, cursing out as though he was a rapper.

“Found Diego,” you announced in the comms and carefully stashed a gun you found earlier in one of the rooms, before pulling out the knife you got from one of the guards you took down earlier.

“Make it quick,” Alejandro commanded in a low voice.

You nodded, albeit knowing that they wouldn't see it, and shook your head at yourself. “On it.” You watched a guard step into the room as well, taking a walk around before he turned his back behind you, and you sneaked at the back of a couch.

On your peripheral, Diego remained yelling on the phone, and you threw your knife at the guard. He slammed on the wall, making Diego turn to the sudden noise. And as quickly as he got his eyes on you, you drove your blade on his chest, wrapping your hand around his mouth to keep him quiet.

“Shhh,” you pulled your knife out and pierced him in the neck once, twice, and again, and again. “Corpses do not talk.”

His blood splattered on your face as you drew the knife from his limp body and let him fall to the floor. You ran your hands on his body and found a bulge in his pocket. You pulled out a wallet, whistling at the cards and money stashed in it, before finding your main goal.

“Acquired the key card, soldiers,” you mumbled in a small voice and flinched at the sudden noise beside you. A telephone continued to ring and you felt a twitch under your eye at the annoying ringtone. With a swipe, you cut off the chord and stepped back out of the room.

You heaved the gallons of gasoline into the room and popped one open, pouring it over Diego's body and across the room. You wince at the scent and went towards his armory, where you found a grenade launcher.

You snatched it from the wall and looked around, finding some wires long and flexible enough to be tied.

You licked your lips, winding the wire around the launcher’s trigger, and carefully placed it down on the floor. With careful steps, you padded over the door and close it, before tying the other end of the wire to the knob.

You hummed and crouched down in front of Diego. You slipped off your glove and splayed it over the puddle of his blood, before throwing it to the window. Then, you took the other gallon of gasoline with you and climbed out of the window.

You looked down and spotted two masked men, quickly shooting them down, before heaving yourself up to a higher roof than the one you're on. You carefully walked on the inclined surface and jumped down on the nearest wall, proceeding to roll on the concrete. Stashing your firearm and blade, you gazed around the place and popped open the other gallon.

You ambled around, pouring down the liquid over the path you had once walked on, where dead men lay and where they would soon be burned to ashes.

You emptied it out and tossed it over a plant. You strolled back to where you came from, towards where Alejandro stood.

You slammed the elevator’s button up beside you. You stepped inside the elevator with the Colonel and swiped the key card underneath the button. “A feast is about to start.” You turned to Alejandro with a smile under your mask. “Estás bien, hermano?”

(You good, brother?)

He nodded and reached out his fist at you. “Eres buena en esto.”

(You’re good at this.)

You bumped your fist against his with a huff and strode out as the elevator opened. With him, you rushed through the corridor, shooting down men who got in your sight, until you both found a double door. He crouched before it, motioned at you to follow him, and handed you some sort of device with a camera attached at the end.

You pushed it in the gap underneath the door and from the small monitor of the device, you watched a woman walk across the room. Valeria spoke to someone over the phone, skipping around the place repeatedly with a couple of men, who then shouted at her, calling her the name of the person on your for the mission.

You put your hand over your mouth, letting a laugh escape from your lips. Alejandro looked at you in confusion as several men voiced out their questions about your reaction as well.

“Valeria, she’s El Sin Nombre.” You pulled out the camera and handed it back to him, shooting up to your foot. But Alejandro didn’t stand up, merely gazing at the device in his hand. “What’s wrong, dude?” You fished out your gun.

He shook his head with a sigh and got up. “Nothing.” He pulled out his own gun and announced, “We’re moving in. Graves, you set?”

“Check,” Phillip simply replied.

“Ghost, Soap?” Alejandro called.

“Good.”

“Hell to the yeah.”

That was an uncanny reaction. You stared at the Colonel briefly—his response to you about Valeria and El Sin Nombre being the same person replaying in your head—before motioning your hand at the door. “After you, sir.”

“Take her alive.” He kicked the door open before you could retort at his command, but as soon as you spotted people inside, you fired.

From your peripheral, you noticed Valeria running out of a door and you couldn’t help but laugh. Chasing down people when on an infiltration mission had always been fun. Like a snake to a bird, a lion to a gazelle, a wolf to a rabbit. Like a cute little game of ‘tag, you’re it!’ that you had never been able to play as a child.

“Oh, Valeriaaa,” you sang, sprinting after her, and your giggles only got louder when she looked back at you with wide eyes, watching you remove your balaclava to reveal a grin so wide, it made your eyes turn crescent. “There is nowhere to run.”

“What the fuck—”

You shot at the concrete beneath her feet, eliciting a curse from her, and she eventually came to a stop. A helicopter came from above, thrashing everything around, and Phillip along with Ghost and Soap stepped down from the exfil.

“Shampoo!” Soap stepped towards you as Graves and Ghost pushed Valeria down on her knees and bound her wrists with cuffs.

“Oh, God.” You whacked his arms with the gun in your hand, earning a pained grunt from him. “Stop it!”

“Ugh, okay!” He rubbed his arm, but not a moment later, he patted your head. “Ye did fucking well.”

You lifted your chin up proudly. “Of course, sergeant,” you said and put your hands on the crook of your hips, before noticing Alejandro looking at Valeria from your side. And as Graves heaved her away, she glanced behind her shoulder, her eyes meeting with the Colonel.

Oh, mother. A fucking history, huh?

“Let's go!” Ghost commanded, grabbing the back of your collar while motioning at Johnny to get on the heli.

“Wa—wait!” You stood firm on your feet, eyes traveling back to the penthouse. “Something’s late.”

“What?” Ghost shouted, scanning the surroundings, but nothing seemed amiss. “What are you—”

A loud explosion came from below and fire blazed up to the roof, smoke swimming in the air, and all the boys, including Valeria, gaped at the scene.

“Okay, we good.” You grabbed the Lieutenant’s arm and pulled him into the vehicle.

“Alright.” Graves stood behind the chair where Valeria took a seat and gazed at the Colonel, gesturing a finger between both of the mexicans. “How'd you two know each other?”

“Ex-military, we served together,” the Mexican answered, glaring at the woman other than you inside the container. “Different squads, same unit, until she decided to betray us.”

“Betray is a strong word,” Valeria huffed, swinging her arm over the back of the chair and crossing her legs. “I just did what needed to be done.”

“You helped a criminal and killed him to take his position,” Alejandro glowered, his brows furrowing and contorting his features. Although it hadn't been a few days since you met him, he was one formidable man and surely could be a scary one.

You whistled, taking the spot next to the Lieutenant at the other end of the container, and crossed your arms, glancing at the man. “Easy climb to the top,” you whispered, leaning a bit closer to him and smiling.

Graves and Alejandro had begun to whisper threats in the woman's ear, but Valeria remained u bothered, keeping the smirk on her face until the Shadow put his hand on her shoulder.

“How’d you blow up her house?” Simon questioned in a low voice, which sounded more of a rumble coming from his throat, and good lord, if sounded hot as hell right now, how would he sound like on bed?

“I found some gasoline and a grenade launcher, and tied the trigger with a wire to the door’s knob, so when someone comes in, it'll blow up,” you explained, turning and looking up at him proudly.

“Clever,” he patted your shoulder.

You grinned wider. “A compliment from The Ghost, huh?”

He scoffed. “Yeah, better be proud of it.”

“But I'm curious about one thing,” Valeria said, which made you turn your attention back to the woman and meet her gaze.

Graves moved away from her and settled his eyes on you as well, seemingly already done with the interrogation and got some info.

“Which group are you from?” Valeria questioned, raking her eyes up and down your body, noting that you still had the beeping monitor on your ankle, before scanning the men inside the container. “The Shadow Company, with Alejandro or those . . .” She trailed off, thinking if she had heard something about the man in a skull mask and the mohawk, but no memory came in her mind. “Can't say for sure where they're from.”

“My affiliation is none of your business,” you said in a clear, loud voice. You didn't want her to know more about the Task Force, and you'd punch Graves and anyone outside the 141, if ever they spout a single word about them to the sicario. “But it's true I was a criminal—”

“Still is,” Graves added and leaned against the wall.

“Shut up, fuck you,” you flipped him your middle finger, before bringing your eyes back at Valeria. “Hence the monitor.”

Valeria glared at you. “I see. I know the eyes of a snake.”

You grinned and splayed your fingers on your cheek, tilting your head. “Awww, did I scare the lady of the hour?”

“You chased her up the rooftop with a fucking gun while singing her name,” Graves remarked, shaking his head. He had seen you do that before and he got to admit, even he found it frightening to have someone hunt you down with a knife in their hands while they chanted your name in the darkness of night. “Anyone would panic on that, you psycho.”

You rolled your eyes. “Well, as you said it’s fucking psychological warfare!” you shouted, making the rest of the men back up from you. “It’s a battle of minds before it was physical. If you can’t make your enemies afraid of where they stand, then you shouldn’t be on the freaking battlefield!” You threw your hands up in the air. “Bloody hell!”

Soap nodded, leaning close to Ghost. “Our bonnie’s learnin’” he whispered, making Simon sigh.

“Me recuerda a mi madre cuando se enfada,” Rodolfo muttered under his breath, making Alejandro’s neck snap at his way and quickly go back to your way, finding you already looking at his soldier. Rodolfo averted his eyes as the Colonel cleared his throat.

(She reminds me of my mother when she's angry.)

“You’d make a good sicario,” Valeria commented.

You turned back to her and shrugged. “Eh, maybe, if you say so. But I like doing illegal things for the right reason, and being in a cartel can’t give me that. I’m a criminal allied with soldiers now, because of my use.”

“And if you were so good, how'd you get captured?”

“Jokes on them, I'm into cuffs and torture.” You cackled at the top of your lungs, making the team once again remember that you weren't so right in the head.

“Hey.”

You walked out of the container with the 141 as soon as Ghost pushed open the door, ignoring Graves' call. You knew what he would want to talk about, and you had no time for his nagging or threats.

“I think Graves’ calling ya,” Soap mumbled, glancing over his shoulder as you walked with him and Ghost away from the container.

“Shhh,” you whispered to the sergeant and winked at him. “Just ignore—”

“Snapdragon!”

You stopped in your tracks, brows knitting at the sudden use of a familiar name, and a groan escaped deep from your throat. “Fucking hell.” You turned to the source of the voice and found the Shadow boss marching towards you with a scowl.

“Let’s talk,” Phillip ordered, reaching out to pat your shoulder, but you ducked and rolled away, hiding behind Ghost.

“I may be into shit, but I'm not into you even though you're shit,” you remarked and clutched onto the Lt.’s vest, which he didn't seem to mind.

Soap pursed his lips and looked away, resting his hands on his hips, and sighed, successfully holding back his laughter.

Phillip rolled his eyes, stepping towards Ghost’s back, and managed to grab your arm before you could move away. “Come here!” He pulled but you tightened your grip on the Brit.

“Hell no!” you yelled, catching the attention of Alejandro and Rudy as well as their fellow special forces. “I've had enough of you!”

“Well, I am not!”

Soon enough, everyone had begun to watch Graves attempt to take you away from the lieutenant by pulling your vest, but your hold onto Ghost was solid and the man himself simply stood, perfectly unbudged, showcasing his strength to the rest of the soldiers.

Alejandro and Rodolfo walked and stood beside the other members of the 141 to watch the spectacle closer.

“This is like watching a drama where her ex keeps on wanting to get her back but she already found herself another man,” Rodolfo commented, which got the other two to snort.

“A Soap Opera, you mean?” Alejandro suggested, eliciting a laugh from Soap and Rudy.

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own / Discord

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