#he’s looking at me while I write the tags help-

[iamasaddie]

tired

paring: Joel Miller x f!reader rating: explicit warnings: explicit sexual content, unspecified age gap, reader has hair that you can run your fingers through, no use of Y/N, UNEDITED a/n: fully inspired by this post @bonezone44 dared to put out so i thank them for basically punching me out of the no-writing period of my life <3 and also thank you to people who've been tagging me in multiple wip challenges and fic games, especially @milla-frenchy and @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog <3 you reminded me that i was indeed an author a million years ago word count: 2.6k masterlist

Joel was tired. His back was hurting from helping Tommy fix up his roof, his knees were aching from climbing up and down that goddamn ladder that he could swore was ready to break at any second. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a night where he could just relax. Throw his body somewhere in his house and have someone take care of it. 

Now that Ellie was building her adult life with Dina, their place - his place - now felt like just a roof over his head, all the homeyness gone with the girl that almost single-handedly owned his sharp and rusty heart.  

Joel squeezed his eyes shut, dry fingertips running over the lids. He did not want to go home and fall asleep on the couch, cursing everything the world stands on the next morning when he needs to fight the tears of pain with every back spasm he gets. No, he needed someone to take care of him, to give him something good, god knows he’s given these people more than enough over these past years. But, Joel sighed to himself, scrunching his nose as his eyes fell on the dirty knees of his jeans, he was not in shape of wining and dining women tonight. 

That’s what you need casual connections for, old idiot, he chuckled to himself, remembering a few times he had to spell it out for some ladies that he wasn’t interested.

You practically jumped on a stool next to him while he was still considering his options.

“Hey, Joel, long night?” 

Of course you’d be the first to ask about his day. Little miss sunshine. Well, at least that’s what he thought at first, before seeing you mercilessly killing a couple of infected villagers that weren’t careful enough on the patrol. Still, you were as syrupy sweet as honey on a fresh batch of pancakes when it came to him. The only one who didn’t cringe when he said his firm “no, thanks”. The only one who didn’t actually take his no for an answer.

You never actually threw yourself at him, but Joel learned what desire looks like and you were too young to learn how to mask it properly. 

“Hey, kid.” He nodded, he knew how much you hated the nickname because it put even a bigger barrier between the two of you.

“Told you not to call me that, I’m only—“

“Twenty something years younger than me? Yeah.”

He saw your lips hiding in a thin line, your unbreakable spirit was too fragile when it came to him. Joel must’ve gone soft, or insane, because he nudged your shoulder with his, making you lift your head up and look him in the eyes.

“Tommy’s roof’s been a pain in the ass to fix. It’d be easier to burn that place down and build a new one, but my brother is as stubborn as them mules he’s been dreaming to have.”

You huffed a laugh, palm squeezing the slippery glass that was now empty a little too hard. “You know,” you started, shyness verging with hope that you tried to sheath with a nonchalant tone. Joel knew. And for the first time in years he actually contemplated, nodding to you to continue. “I could help you relax, I sometimes give massages in the hospital. It can really help with back pain.”

He purposefully kept silent, looking you in the eyes and trying to make you go back on your proposal. But as he knew already, you were no less stubborn than his little brother. It was karma or something that the only people that were semi-constant in his life were the ones who’d rather kiss an infected than give up. 

Joel wasn’t exactly tortured with his conscience, he didn’t seduce you, and most of the old world morals have died already, so the age gap the size of an adult child didn’t bother him either. He was almost glad you tried again, he just needs to make sure you know it’s not something it isn’t. 

“Yeah, my back’s been hurtin’ pretty bad today.” He finished his drink not tearing his eyes off you, and then he slowly let them trace your lips, the naked expanse of your neck that you showed off by unbuttoning a couple of buttons on your shirt. He looked lower, noticing your breasts rise and fall faster under his unmasked gaze. 

“Wanna go now?” Your voice was breathless like you’d just ran a marathon. He wondered how you’d sound later tonight. 

“Sure, darlin’. Lead the way.”

You never said anything when Joel strode past the hospital shack, not even slowing his pace. He was saying something about the roof again but it was hard to understand through the blood pumping jungle beats in your ears. 

You kept nodding and humming in agreement, though you couldn’t quite process the words. As you followed him, the anticipation gnawed at you, every step closer tightening the knot in your stomach. You knew he was taking you home, well, he was taking you to his house, and you went too slow for the amount of times that you dreamed to step over his doorstep. Joel's house was small and dimly lit, for some reason it was exactly how you imagined it: homey in spite of the circumstances. Joel took off his jacket silently, the faint smell of cedar and something musky filled the air, mingling with his earthy scent. He turned to face you, those piercing eyes locking onto yours.

“You gonna give me a massage wearing this?” He pointed at the warm coat you put on in a hurry as you were leaving the bar. Your fingers stumbled over each other as you tried to open the buttons of the damn thing. You felt a flush of warmth rise to your cheeks under his scrutiny.

Your fingers touched as you gave him your coat, but there was no electricity, his fingers were rough and scratched your skin, your palm became sweaty and you hurried to wipe it on your jeans when he didn’t look.

“Let’s go, bedroom’s upstairs,” his voice was low and calm, somehow its vibrations helped you settle, grounded you. You gave him a quick smile and followed his broad figure. Every stair squeaked under his heavy footsteps, you looked like a mouse that was chasing a bear. Willingly. The bedroom door creaked open to reveal a space just as humble as the rest of the house. A couple of drawings in handmade frames, a chair with a pair of pants on it, and the bed. Your eyes were glued to it. The bed and its tangled sheets seemed inviting, though a wave of nerves prickled your spine. ‘You’re here to give him a massage, don’t get ahead of yourself’ you thought, teeth sinking in your lower lip. You weren’t too young or naive to think that a massage was all this night would end with, but such a quick change of heart in Joel made you doubt your every breath. 

When you brought your eyes back to the man you saw him studying you, you could swear a nervous tick clenched his jaw but you didn’t let yourself ponder on it.

“I’m gonna rip the bandaid off and say it as it is, okay, pretty girl?”

Your breath hitched. Joel stepped closer, his eyes steadily holding yours. You nodded, not trusting your voice. His gaze was intense, making your heart hammer loudly enough to be heard.

"Massage ain’t exactly the thing I took ya here for,” Joel admitted, eyes dark, voice raw with honesty. “If you catch my drift.”

“I…” You cleared your throat, you wanted to look confident, or at least not scared. You’ve wanted to get into this man’s bed for months now, imagined how and when and what, and now that it happens you can barely squeeze out a, “yeah, of course I do.”

Joel smiled, one of his hands flying to cup your jaw as he brought his lips closer to yours and you closed your eyes in anticipation of his soft skin on yours. “Good girl,” the remnants of his wet breath stained your lips.

As quickly as he came at you, he left. His pace was languid when he worked on taking off his jeans, leaving himself in a ridiculous attire of a flannel shirt, a t-shirt underneath and simple cotton boxers.

You bit your lip, suppressing a giggle at the sight. His eyes snagged on your smile, sharpening with mischief. Joel raised an eyebrow, catching your amusement. “What’s so funny, darlin’?”

“Nothing,” your cheeks felt extra hot and you were glad for the poor lighting in the bedroom. “Lay on your back, please. As I said before, I’d like to help you relax.”

Joel held your gaze for a hot minute, but then silently followed your order. “I’d maybe argue any other day, but not now, sweetheart. Today I’ll take all the care I can get,” he smiled, but you missed the warm gesture. He laid back, his head hitting the pillow, long curls that he had left to grow splayed around the back of his head. You were too focused, letting your hands wander over his chest, feeling the texture of his shirt and the years of safer life that he was hiding underneath had grown out brushing against the fabric. You moved your fingers lightly over his chest, watching his eyes flutter closed.

His hands blindly found yours, hardened blisters of his palms scraped your soft skin, and he pushed your hands lower, somewhere you didn’t dare look for too long.

“Don’t be shy, babygirl,” he muttered with his eyes still closed. You let him guide you. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the rigidity slowly melting away under your touch. 

You remembered him talking about ripping a bandage off, so you followed his philosophy, hooking your fingers under the elastic of his boxers and tugging the material down. As the cool air grazed his skin, he released a slow, shuddering breath. It felt like something forced you to lift your head up, you met his gaze and saw a flicker of softness and gratefulness in his eyes.

“This okay?” You whispered, hands already exploring the places your eyes were too shy to inspect.

“More than,” Joel’s voice was calm, breathing barely indicating the intimate setting you were in. His eyes fell shut again and a part of you thought that was only to give you more freedom, save you from his scrutiny. You noticed the slight hitch in his breath with each new touch, his body responding to your feathery strokes.

When your fingertips grazed the hot skin covered in coarse hair you couldn’t help but look. Even in half darkness it was easy to see that Joel was well-endowed and eager. His cock laid on the pillow of his pubic hair, the shaft slightly curved. Pink tip was glistening with precum and you wondered if you got him excited or the promise of future pleasure. Your left hand was resting on his hip when as if hypnotized you traced your index finger from his tip to where his base was covered in sparse graying curls.

Joel’s cock jumped to attention, twitching under your light touch, prompting you to close your fist around it which you immediately did. With the first tug on the velvety soft skin both of you released a moan.

“Spit on it, baby, make it wet,” Joel’s voice was relaxed, as if you put your hand on a muscle that was aching for days and relieved the pain.

Your short nails dug into his hip when you started contemplating how to do it. You weren’t completely innocent, far from it, but somehow you could count on the fingers of one hand the amount of times you needed to spit during sex. Deciding against spitting in your own palm, you took a different position, scooting lower down the bed and hunching over Joel’s waiting cock. The moment the smell of his skin and sweat hit your nose it was like you were intoxicated. Your lips closed around his flushed tip, tongue diving to get more of his taste. Both of your hands settled on his hips, either to hold him down or find balance. You abandoned the idea of spitting, the thought of not having his cock in your mouth almost pained you. It was like this was the grand finale of your romantic labor. Here, on your knees between the legs of a man who was holding you at arm's length for the longest time. It shouldn’t have felt so good, but it did. Taking care of him, even in this basic, primal way, felt like taking care of yourself.

Your wet mouth slid further down, the thick shaft of Joel’s cock stretching your lips. It took you a moment to realize Joel’s hands were in your hair. For a moment you thought he wanted you to stop, you even started to lift off, but the firm pressure of his hand on your head made it clear that he wasn’t against this turn of events. You let yourself build up to a comfortable taste, exploring each centimeter of his skin in your mouth, the way a couple of veins bulged under your tongue, the ridge of the head pushing further in your throat. You didn’t hurry and neither did he. You savored the slow rhythm of push and pull, letting him go deeper with every thrust.

One of his hands left your head and you raised your eyes to Joel’s face, mouth still very occupied with his cock. He must have felt it, because he barely lifted his head off the pillow, stray curls sticking to his sweaty forehead and you could swear you saw him wink at you before he laid his head back, using the freed hand to tuck away long strands of hair behind his ear.

The picture of this man, always so rough and guarded, finally relaxing under your touch and shedding the years of hostility made you drunker than any booze Tommy could’ve offered. Your movements became faster, saliva dripping down his cock and making it glisten. You felt Joel’s hips tense under your palms and you didn’t even need to hear the shameless moans drowned by your excitement and the sloppy wet sounds to know he was close.

“Doin’ good for me, baby, doin’ real good,” he groaned as you felt the tip of his cock punch the back of your throat repeatedly. Your eyes watered, but you admitted to yourself that you would rather suffocate and die than let the cock of this man out of your mouth. Your jaw was aching, the pleasurable pain that said how good of a job you did. 

The shaft under your tongue felt even harder, a loaded gun pressing on your tongue and you couldn’t wait for it to shoot.

Both of Joel’s hands returned to your head pressing you into his skin so hard that little hairs tickled your nose and your vision started to go blurry.

His load was salty and thick, you felt it slide down your throat like lava, burning you from the inside. Barely catching your breath you sat straight, watching closely how Joel’s chest rose and fell following his erratic breathing. There was an indecent amount of wetness gathered in the gusset of your panties and by the look on Joel’s face you knew you’d have to handle it yourself.

“Feeling good?” Your voice sounded weird, hoarse and raspy in the gritty silence of the room.

“You’re really good at massage, darlin’, I’m more relaxed than the day I was born,” Joel held his gaze on you, using his shoulder to scratch the underside of his jaw. You took it as your key to leave, after all, you never agreed to anything more.

Joel’s voice stopped you with one foot over the doorstep.

“Maybe I could return the favor some time.”

[demieyesore]

Sex and Feelings - Sam Monroe

Summary - Sam and you got into a heated argument that ended in tears and sex.

Warnings / Mentions - Fem!Reader, Insecure!Sam, mentions of drugs and other mental health issues, pet names used are baby, angel, and pretty girl/sweet girl, hurt comfort, small angst, makeup sex, sad sex, dacryphilia, both Sam and Reader are crying, oral (f receiving), Sam cums untouched, praise, Sam licks Reader's tears, creampie, squirting, NOT PROOF READ; SO PLEASE TELL ME IF THERE'S ANY MISTAKESSSS

A/N - I know I usually write GN!Reader, but I wanted to use certain affectionate terms like "pretty girl" and I haven't been able to think of a gender-neutral way yet...maybe just "pretty baby" or "pretty doll" Idk, send help fr...Also, does anyone have any idea how to avoid using Y/N in dialogue?

Requested - Yessir, right here

Word Count - 2197

Tag List - @vixxensvoid @maevesversion @sockiess @stylesslytherinskywalker @myheadhurtscutely

@yourenogoodforme @gallerygourmet @heartsforanakin @helendeath @ysrjune

@anisangeldust @catnipaddictt @ahano @itachicha @02ibiskywitt05

@espinathena-17 @lvrfay3

Gif by @sukugo

Tears flooded your eyes, and your senses went wild from the way your boyfriend was talking about himself and your relationship. Sam, your sweet yet devilish boyfriend, was pleading for you to break up with him.

"Sam, I just don't understand. I don't want to break up!" You tried over and over to reach out to him, but he only kept pulling away. His thoughts and mind are elsewhere. Sam had a hazy look in his eyes, one of fear and loneliness.

"Y/n, stop making this harder than it needs to be. I'm not good for you, and you fuckin' know it." Sam's exclamation caught you off guard. The aggressive use of language at the end makes you glow with anger. Your emotions are mixing in a pot, like ingredients. Some anger here, some fear there, some dread, and the final being your undying care for him.

"You can't possibly mean that! Sam, for the love of God, you are everything to me! I mean, yes, we all have our flaws, but I don't care!" Your voice echoed in the room. You had come over to his house in order to check in on him, wanting to hang out and watch a movie, only to see him getting high. Not the usual joint high, not pills, but he was in the middle of hanging himself in his closet when you walked into his room.

"Oh, fuck off; you don't mean that. You know just how bad I am for you; you just don't want to admit it. You never do!" He yelled at the end; you could tell he was starting to get emotional. As much as Sam loved you, he always struggled to believe that you actually liked him. It wasn't even fathomable for you to be in love with him.

It was like he was shutting down on you, but you didn't want to give him up. "Sammy, please...how do-- How do I fix this?" You took a deep breath, your nose sniffling from the stress on your mind and body. Sam was silently crying, his face contorting into one of pain. "You can't; you just can't! You can't do anything about it; you're not the one who needs fixing!" He seethes, pacing around his messy room as he tries to sort out his thoughts.

He's such a mess. He's wearing a band tee, one that he cut the sleeves off of to create a make shift tank top. A studded belt with a pair of black jeans. A leather bracelet cuff was on his right wrist, while the bracelet you made for him hung around his left. Sam was messing with the bracelet in an attempt to calm down.

"You don't need to be fixed; you're not an object. You need someone who can be there for you, Sam! You need to actually talk about your feelings instead of bottling them up, and trust me, I know how hard that can be!" You gestured towards him, knowing that your choice of words might have been harsh and ironic since he was the one begging for you to leave him.

Sam clocked the irony, ignoring the meaning behind what you said and just shouting in a choked-up voice. "I'm trying!" His anger got the better of him as he pulled at the bracelet you made him. It wasn't all that, but it was important to him and to you. The matching one adorns your own wrist. The cheap material is a piece of elastic string with cute beads. The bracelet held some cute little charms that fit his style, along with a heart and your name. Your bracelet has your own personal aesthetic, and it has his name.

As he angrily tugged at the jewelry, it snapped. He threw what little of the beads his hand caught in your direction. You flinched as some of them flew toward you. Pain prickled at your heart when the beads clattered to the floor. Sam realized what he had done in his small fit of rage. He knew that if he hadn't hurt you before, he had now.

His eyes soften with a flash of sincerity as he stays quiet. Neither of you dared to speak. The anger having died out entirely. Sam slowly walked towards you, both of you having tears running messily down your cheeks. Sam's eyeliner was smudged and tracking down in streaks.

As he neared, you didn't move. Allowing him to embrace you in a hug. His hands were around your waist as he pulled you into his chest. His forehead slumped towards the floor as he nuzzled himself into the crook of your neck. You could feel the wetness brushing on your shoulder from his own crying. Your arms came up and wrapped around him. You both didn't have the words—nothing that could truly say you were sorry.

"Baby," Sam started, cutting himself off as he put together his thoughts. He felt uneasy as he tried to think of a way to apologize. A way to get you to forgive him for his outburst. He knew it wasn't your fault he felt this way, and he knew that he was just self-sabotaging another relationship.

Sam's brain finally formed an idea—the only way he could think of to say he was so fuckin' sorry.

"Baby, let me make it up to you..." Sam finalized it, and the both of you are still crying from the distress of the situation. You tried to pull away so you could look at him and listen to him, but he didn't let you. Confusion rippled through you when his grip on you tightened, tilting your head to the side as a result of your puzzlement. Which just made Sam's job so much easier as he began placing soft kisses on your neck. His mouth trailed up your throat as he sucked at your soft skin. You hummed in satisfaction at his affectionate behavior. Both Sam and you had clouded minds still as he kissed up your jaw, making his way to your swollen lips. Already red and puffy, bitten raw from your sobbing.

Sam just loved seeing you like this; he hated to say it, but you were so pretty when you cried, and you often thought the same thing about him. The way his face would screw together in pain, his eyes watery, and his skin looking red was the most beautiful sight in the world. One of Sam's hands snaked up to your face, cradling you into his palm. He could feel your cheekbone pressed against him, his thumb wiping the liquid dampening under your eye.

The kiss grew more heated; Sam wanted more of you. He wanted all of you, and that was part of the problem in the first place. He felt like he was too selfish with you. Sam prodded at your lower lip with his tongue, and you eagerly let him in. Loving the intimate and passionate way he invaded your mouth. Always wanting to taste you, he'd devour you if he could.

Sam moaned into the kiss. You weren't quite vocal yet. Your emotions are still running rampant, keeping you in a non-verbal-like state. Sam could feel himself getting hard, his hand on your waist slipping down momentarily to massage himself through his jeans. Something that was difficult, but he needed some kind of feeling down there. He was only kissing you, and it was driving him crazy. Sam only ever wanted to please you. Be there for you, but he always felt like he was letting you down. He desperately wanted to save you from himself. He was terrified of taking you down with him. So instead, he would go down on you.

Sam pushed you towards the bed, backing you up until your legs hit the edge, forcing you to sit down. Sam broke the kiss as he unzipped his jeans, pulling them down and kicking them off as he grabbed you by your ankles. He folded you in on yourself, keeping you stable as he pulled off your shorts down your legs, tossing them off god knows where into his room. Once you both were free from your bottoms, Sam kneeled in front of you.

He pulled you closer to him, a yelp escaping your plump lips. Sam didn't bother taking off your panties, opting to just push them to the side with how impatient he was getting. Just as Sam's face got closer to your cunt, he stopped, glancing up at you. His voice was low with need as he asked, "Okay with this pretty girl?" You hummed in approval, words still lacking from your brain and mouth. Sam wouldn't push you to answer today with words; he's already aware of how you react when sensitive.

He dipped his head back to your cunt, his finger caught your panties and pulled them to the side. He watched in amusement and desire when he saw what he'd claimed multiple times. He could tell you were already wet but didn't care as he spat his saliva on your exposed pussy. His hand that wasn't occupied with your underwear came up, sinking a finger in between your folds as he swiped up along your slit. Making sure that you were coated well. He pulled his middle finger back, sucking it clean, before resting his hand on your thigh, keeping it in place.

His tongue finally came into contact with your pretty pussy, licking up and gently sucking on your clit. He pressed kisses on your cunt, as he lapped at you hungrily. His tongue poking at your entrance. He moaned into you as his tongue fucked your little hole. Your little whines falling from your mouth were music to his ears, fueling him to get more aggressive and fasten his pace. His lips were swiping across your cunt as he sucked and kissed you. "Prettiest pussy in the fuckin' world, sweet girl."

Sam was shifting uncomfortably from his boner, trying to ignore it as he ate you out. Your little whines and whimpers turned into moans and shrieks of pleasure as he feasted on you. Acting as if he hadn't eaten for a week. He was plunging into you as if you were the air he needed. The knot in your stomach was unraveling, and he could feel it as your cunt fluttered around his tongue. He kept up with what he was doing, giving you exactly what you needed. The cord in your core broke as the most pornographic moan ripped from you, your legs shaking and clamping down around his head as he ate you out through your orgasm.

Sam whimpered at your reaction, getting off on the fact that he knew you were satisfied with him. "Shit- oh fuck!" Sam whined into your pussy, the vibrations overwhelming you as he came. His boxers were stained with the sticky fluid.

Sam finally moved out of your thighs, standing up and flipping you onto your stomach. He easily lifted your ass into the air, propping you up on your knees while your chest pressed into his sheets. He wasted no time as he freed himself from his briefs. Lining up with your sopping wet cunt as he pushed in. Sam threw his head back, a couple more of his tears sliding down his face and dripping onto the floor. He whined as you gasped into his pillows, not entirely letting you adjust to his size as he started moving. He wasn't being rough, but he was being fast. Your tears soaked into his bed, your mouth opening in pleasure as he fucked into you. Sam rammed into you, slapping noises heard throughout the room. "So good, angel, takin' me so well. This pussy was made for me, fuckkkk..." He drawled out.

Sam leaned to your back, enveloping your throat with his hand as he pulled you to him. His hips not slowing, but definitely hitting deeper than before. "My beautiful girl, only one meant for me. Always know just what I need." He whimpered into your ear; the airflow you were getting was slightly chopped off from his hand. The feeling was like ecstasy as he pounded into you. His praises drove you to the edge again. Sam licked your cheek, collecting the drying tears on his tongue. The flavor was salty, but he enjoyed it. His thrusts are growing sloppy from the overstimulating orgasm building. He made sure to hold off, wanting to keep your own white-hot pleasure going for as long as he could. Your pussy leaking as he pulled out. Juices spraying on his cock as he ran his tip throughout your folds, playing with the stream you were squirting. "Even your pussy is crying for me." Sam laughed through his emotion-filled voice. Once you stopped, he pushed back in, giving a couple more thrusts into you before stilling. Sam held onto you tightly as he came, thick ropes spurting into you.

"I'm taking back my demand; you can't break up with me now." Sam jokes as you both start coming down from your highs, wiping away the water weeping from his eyes. 

[pretty-circa006]

Sneaking Out

Stepdad! Negan x F! Reader

summary Negan catches you sneaking out to go to a party and punishes you accordingly

tags age gap (reader is 19, Negan is pushing 40), spanking, unprotected p in v, making out, slight dacryphilia, stepcest, nudity, brief mentions of alcohol consumption, vaguely implied underaged drinking, hair pulling, use of pet names, cumshot

this is my first time posting my writing on here, kinda nervy!

*you are responsible for your own content consumption. if this is something you DO NOT like, simply DO NOT read or interact! :) *

wc: 2.65k

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She sat on her bed, crying. Knees tucked to her chest and head held in her hands as small sniffles and whimpers escaped her lips, despite her best efforts to stay silent. She resented her mom for being so strict and not letting her go out to parties like others her age. She was sure her mom would have let up once she graduated high school, especially since she was legally an adult now, but it only seemed like she doubled down even more. Things got even worse once her mom married her stepdad, Negan. Per her mother's request, he installed security cameras in the front of house and the backyard to ensure she couldn't sneak out. And the few times she tried, she failed, because Negan would be up late, playing video games in the living room or smoking a cigarette in the backyard by the poolside, making it impossible for her to sneak out. She was so miserable, watching everyone have fun over the summer before college while she wasted away in her room with her only entertainment being behind a screen or imbedded in the pages of a book.

It was so unfair. Especially because she knew tonight was gonna be the party of the year. One of the rich girls in her graduating class was throwing a pool party at her mansion, her mansion which housed one of the best pools she'd ever seen. And somehow, she was lucky enough to be invited. This was an opportunity of a lifetime and if it meant being grounded for an eternity, so be it.

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She had one foot out her bedroom window when she heard a knock on her door.

"Hey kid, can I come in?" her stepdad, Negan's, voice called from the other side of the door.

"One sec, I'm not decent!" she fibbed as she stumbled back inside her room. She shut the window as silently it would go before she slipped under the covers of her bed, hiding the fact she had on nothing but a tropical, triangle bikini.

"Okay, you can come in now," she called out. Negan let himself in, glancing around her room suspiciously. She couldn't help but notice how handsome he looked with his glasses resting on the bridge of his nose, tattoos peeking out from beneath his white t-shirt, and obvious outline of his dick through his gray sweatpants that hung low on his waist. Despite being hidden beneath her sheets and comforter, she felt vulnerable and naked beneath his skeptical gaze.

"You're not plannin' on sneakin' out, are ya?" he asked, tongue seductively swiping across his bottom lip. She nervously swallowed, heat blossoming across her cheeks.

"N-no, why?" came her shaky reply.

"You are a shit liar, kid," he laughed, a handsome smirk on his face.

"Why would I sneak out? There's nothing for me to out there anyway," she doubled down, not feeding into his bait. He stalked closer to her bed before sitting down at the foot of it, hazel eyes boring into her soul.

"So you're not going to that pool party happening right now?" The tone of his voice was sarcastic, hinting that he didn't believe a word coming from her mouth.

"Pool party? What pool party?" She punctuated her question with a fake yawn to try and convince Negan that she really was tired and ready to go to bed for the night.

"If you say so, kid. Just know that if I catch your lying ass sneaking out tonight, you'll be in for a world of hell when I punish you." Her thighs involuntarily squeezed together at his words and the action didn't go unnoticed by Negan. She nodded her head while silently praying he'd hurry up and leave so she can sneak out.

His eyes narrowed at her as he stood up. "Night, kiddo," he said, patting her knee through the comforter for good measure.

"Night, Negan!"

She continued laying in her bed, petrified, for another ten minutes until she heard the door to her mom's bedroom shut. Negan's words did manage to strike some fear into her, but not enough to deter her from her original plan. She was sure he was in bed now and falling asleep for the night. After silently sliding out of her bed, she tucked a few decorative pillows in her previous place in hope they'd fool Negan or her mom if they peek in to check on her.

Her hands were shaky when she re-opened her bedroom window. Nerves were finally getting to her. She could hear her heart beating rapidly in her ears as she began having second thoughts about doing this. Negan was nowhere near as strict as her mom, so his punishment couldn't actually that bad. Not that she'd actually have to worry about his punishment, because she wasn't gonna get caught.

She crept out of her window and stepped onto the roof. She closed her window, only leaving it slightly ajar so she could get back inside later. Careful not to slip on the roof's slippery shingles, she tiptoed to the edge and looked over at the space from here to the grassy ground. Too late to go back now. She sat on the ledge and turned herself around so she could hang from the ledge before dropping into the soft grass.

She looked back at the house, elated she was finally out and what fun was about to come

.⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆

The dark morning sky was slowly beginning to turn into a lighter blue as she clumsily climbed the trellis back onto the second story's roof. Her slightly intoxicated brain made it so her movements weren't as agile and quiet like before. She lifted her window open and unceremoniously fell inside, smacking the carpeted flooring with her face.

The first thing she noticed was the potent smell of tobacco followed by his signature whistling.

"Aw, fuck," she groaned to herself. She heard the springs of her mattress release as Negan got up and soon his socked feet came into her view. He reached out a hand and helped her up after she gratefully accepted it.

He looked pissed. His thick eyebrows settled into a frown and his hazel-green eyes were devoid of any kindness. She nervously crossed her arms over her body, feeling naked under his gaze.

"How was the pool party?" he asked.

"I wasn't a-at a pool party!" she lied.

His look only darkened, making her weak in the knees. From fear or arousal, she couldn't tell.

"What kinda goddamn fuckin' idiot do you take me for? You are literally dripping wet and wearin' a damn bikini!" he pointed out the obvious.

"I was swimming in our own pool in the backyard!" she lied with such little conviction that she couldn't even fool herself

He stepped closer to her and if she wasn't already so close to the wall she'd have stepped back. She averted her gaze and chose to look at the chipped, bubblegum pink nail polish that adorned her toes. Negan wasn't having any of it, though, and forced her to look up at him by grabbing a fistful of her wet hair and tilting her head up. Hot tears pricked at the corners of her eyes.

"What did I tell you would happen if I caught you sneaking out?" he asked between clenched teeth.

"That...that you're gonna p-punish me..." The tears were streaming down her face now as she sniveled pathetically.

"Attagirl," he darkly praised, a sinister smirk spreading across his face. The slight praise caused her stomach to do backflips and her core to clench over nothing. Her face felt hot and her breathing shallowed as her only thoughts were what Negan would do next.

His grip on her hair stayed firm as he walked her over to her bed. He released his hold before taking a seat onto the plush mattress. She stood before him, nervously shifting her weight from foot to foot and nibbling the skin around her thumbnail, awaiting what was to come. His large, warm hands gripped her hips, pulling her to stand between his legs. She glanced down at him as he looked up at her, but her eyes drifted past his face and down to the bulge growing in his sweatpants. She was embarrassed to admit it, but her mouth watered at the sight.

"Now, I want you to know that this shit could have been avoided had your stubborn ass just listened to me," he stated, his grip on her hips growing firmer. She nodded her head, not knowing what to say and not wanting to anger her stepdad even further.

He pulled the ties on either side of her bikini bottoms and let the damp garment fall to the floor between her feet. She nervously bit her bottom lip and looked down at him, but he was too busy eyeing her cunt and soft thighs, which glimmered with the slick of her arousal. He looked up at her as he licked his bottom lip. He patted his thighs.

"Bend over my fuckin' knee, doll," he ordered. She warily obeyed, despite the humiliation of having him see her bare, wet pussy. His roughish hands caressed the soft flesh of her ass, admiring the mounds. Without warning, his hand came down harshly on her right cheek, earning a yelp from her.

"Keep it down," he hissed before landing an even harsher slap to her other cheek. She only whimpered this time, pursing her lips to fight the noises that yearned to escape. He continued his assailment on her ass, leaving it stinging with numbness. Her whimpers turned into a mixture of sobs and wanton moans which only tightened his pants. By the looks of it, he wasn't the only one getting off to this punishment. Her cunt sparkled with her arousal, arousal which was leaking down her thighs.

"Negan, please!" she begged. Her thighs were clenched together as she tried to rub her aching clit on his thigh.

"What is it that you want, baby?" he questioned. His big hands kneaded at her squishy flesh. He knew damn well what she wanted, but he wanted to hear her beg. Her weeping pussy was practically begging to be stuffed with his big cock.

"Need you! Need to feel you inside me," she begged between sniffles and sobs. She stood up from being bent over his lap and sat on it, straddling him instead. His arms snaked around her waist and hers around his neck before she leaned down almost close enough to connect her lips to his.

"Please, Negan?" she whispered against his lips. His eyes flitted from hers down to her lips which were so close to his. Her eyes fluttered shut as she gently pressed her soft lips to his, his facial hair pricking at her skin. Negan could name a plethora of reasons why this would be wrong, but the one reason it felt right overpowered them all, so he grabbed the back of her head and crashed his lips against hers. The desperate moan she let out gave Negan the perfect opening to slip his tongue into her mouth. She tasted like some fruity cocktail that was really just a bunch of things mixed together by some inexperienced kid. He'd have to take her out for a real drink one day. His tongue traversed her mouth, consuming her. She desperately ground her bare pussy on his clothed bulge, eliciting pleasured groans from him. His hands felt up her body before untying her bikini top from the back and the neck, leaving her completely bare on his lap.

"Please, Negan, I need to feel you," she begged after pulling away from the kiss. His eyes were glued to her tits, watching them as her chest rose and fell while she caught her breath. He cupped them in his hands before giving them a squeeze. Her head fell back as she let out a wanton moan. The rough skin of his fingertips gave her hardened nipples some much needed friction as he rolled them between his thumb and forefinger.

"You got some nice fuckin' tits, babydoll," he complimented, only making her wetter.

Her hands slid down his chest, then torso, then stopped at the waistband of his pants.

"Neeegaaan," she impatiently whined.

"Well, baby, if you want it, go ahead and fuckin' take it." His dimpled smile almost brought her to her release right then and there. He lifted his hips so she could pull his cock free. His length audibly smacked his abdomen, the tip an angry, flaming red and leaking with precum. If her core wasn't aching so badly, she'd have gladly taken him down her throat. She took him in her hand. He was so big that her fingers didn't even touch. She stroked him a few times as he sucked bruising marks onto her neck and collarbones. He held onto her hips as she lined him up with her sopping center, stroking him along her slick folds before sinking all the way down on him. The stretch was there, but not painful because she was so wet and ready for him.

"Negan, you feel so good!" she moaned once he bottomed out inside of her. Her nails dug little crescent moons into his skin through his shirt as she began bouncing on his cock. He admired her tits bouncing as she rode him before pulling her closer and taking one in his mouth, kneading the other with his free hand.

The squelching sounds of her wet pussy and the smell off sex permeating her bedroom only made things more erotic. Negan was hitting every spot perfectly, but he wanted more. He freed her tit from his mouth before flipping their position. Her back was now laying against the bed and Negan stood over her, his cock still inside. Now that he had more control, his thrusts came harder and faster, his tip almost kissing her cervix.

"Goddammit, doll, you were made for my cock!" he praised. More profanities and moans fell from his mouth as her wet, spongy walls squeezed his cock. Her moans were growing louder and louder, making Negan worry that they might wake up her mom...who was his wife.

"I know that my dick is the best damn dick you've had and ever will have in your entire goddamn life, but you need to keep it down," he lectured. She rolled her eyes but pursed her lips in a feeble attempt to keep quiet.

They were both close to reaching their peaks and it was obvious by the way his thrusts grew rushed and sloppy and how her cunt was squeezing him.

"I'm gonna-" her sentence was cut off by a scream of ecstasy which caused Negan to cover her loud mouth with his palm. Her cunt squeezed him as her back arched off the bed and eyes rolled to the back of her head while she came. If he was thinking straight, he'd have left her high and dry as punishment, but his own orgasm was close and he'd be damned if he didn't cum. She removed his hand from covering her mouth and took two of his long, thick fingers into her mouth.

"Ho-ly fuckin' shit!" He swore, marveling at the sight. She hollowed her cheeks as she sucked on the digits.

"That's. My. Girl!" he praised with each thrust.He pulled out of her just as his orgasm came over him and shot his load onto her tits and stomach. He flopped onto the bed beside her and she rolled into his strong arms.

"Y'know I can't stay, gotta get back to your mom before she wakes up."

"Just ten more minutes?" she begged, looking up at Negan with those doe eyes of hers.

He sighed and lightheartedly rolled his eyes.

"Anything for my babydoll."

thank you for reading! if you have any feedback on how i can improve, i'd love to hear it!

[thebiggerbear]

Close Enough - Russell Shaw x Reader

Summary: When you'd met the Shaws at the morgue the day before, you thought that had been the end of it and you wouldn't need to see one Shaw brother in particular again. Little did you know that Colter was about to once again ask for your help and not only would you be forced to see Russell again but things were about to change drastically for the both of you.

Pairing: Russell Shaw x Female!Reader; Russell Shaw x Female!FBI Special Agent!Reader

A/N: Sequel to So Close. I wanted to follow up and reveal what happened between Russell and the reader in the past but as I was writing it, this idea popped into my head in addition to that and I just had to see where it went. This was the end result lol. Hope it's okay.

Unbeta'd so all mistakes are mine. I still have not seen Tracker (besides 1x12) because I just haven't had the time for a proper binge yet so if I got some things wrong about Colter and his experience in the show, I apologize.

Also, I always like to throw the disclaimer out there anytime I write something related to the universe of law enforcement: I have never worked in law enforcement so I tried to piece together things I’ve seen and heard in true crime documentaries and podcasts alongside with movies/tv and books. I apologize for any inconsistencies, incorrect information, exaggerations, or complete fallacies. Basically, I made shit up.

Songs I listened to while writing: Somebody That I Used to Know by Gotye; Easy Living by Loretta Lynn & Conway Twitty; Sweet Dreams by Patsy Cline; Sounds of Someday by Radio Company

Warnings: sanctioned assassination; death; gun violence; violence/blood mention; mention of dead bodies; arson; implied sex; a very, very tiny amount of smut(ish); language (I guess?)

Word Count: 16K+

Russell Taglist: @deangirl96 (I hope you don't mind me tagging you in this one; this is going to lead into the series that I mentioned)

Jensen Taglist: @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Your phone started to buzz and you glanced at the screen, rolling your eyes and letting out a sigh before picking up. That wasn’t the normal reaction you would have to seeing Colter’s name pop up on your phone but ever since that mess back at the morgue yesterday, you had been hoping he wouldn’t contact you again. At least not until his brother went back to whatever hole he’d crawled out of. But now it looked like that had been a fool’s hope, on both counts.

“You what?” You hissed.

“We’re about to head to this home in the Blue Ridge Mountains and go in to get Doug,” he repeated.

“I’m sorry, an incredible amount of stupid just sounded in my ear. Can you repeat that?”

“Reenie got me the location and it’s solid intel.” He lowered his voice. “Look, I thought we should get law enforcement involved, alright? But there’s a…valid reason why Russ doesn’t want to call them that I can’t get into right now.”

“Whoops, more stupid. One more time?”

Colter groaned into the phone. “Come on, Y/N.”

“I’m serious, Colter. What the hell are either of you think—wait, scratch that. What the hell are you thinking? Going into a dangerous location like that without any backup? If Carlos Solano found your missing man in a safehouse, do you think he won’t be armed to the teeth? That he won’t have guards patrolling the compound that you’re walking right into? That he won’t see something like this coming? You guys are walking right into a shitstorm.” Christ, you loved the guy like a long-lost brother that you sometimes kept in touch with but if he were in front of you right now, you would’ve delivered one good smack to the back of his head to get him thinking straight. Colter may know his way around a gun, but he wasn’t someone who had formal training or combat experience like Russell did. He didn’t even have your training and you wouldn’t be going in there kamikaze-style like they were.

“That’s why I’m calling you and asking you to meet us there. I’m not exactly calling in law enforcement but we’ll have one more person to watch our backs and help us search for Doug. And who better than a special agent with the FBI?”

You sat back in your chair, shaking your head but thinking it over. This was beyond stupid and you shouldn’t be encouraging it. Russell’s involvement in this idiot plan didn’t surprise you; Colter’s did. He knew better. But you also knew that if he thought he had a chance to get the missing guy back home safely, he was going to take it, no matter the personal risk. If you didn’t go like he asked and anything happened to him or Russell, you’d never forgive yourself.

“Please?” 

You pinched the bridge of your nose between your thumb and forefinger, your decision made. “Send me the location and I’ll leave now to meet you.”

“Thank you.” You could hear the genuine gratitude in his tone. “I promise I’ll explain everything.”

“You better,” you nearly growled before disconnecting the call. You had a feeling you knew what he was going to tell you but for his sake, you hoped it wasn’t anything close to what you were thinking. But why else would Russell not want to call law enforcement for help in rescuing his friend who had been taken hostage by a foreign criminal? God, you hoped you were wrong.

You let out another loud sigh and before you could stand, your phone started ringing again. When you glanced at the screen, instead of a name, you saw “Blocked”. Not good.

You swiped green, holding it to your ear. “Y/L/N.”

“We have a problem,” said the voice on the other end, one you knew all too well, and it didn't sound happy. Shit.

You watched as Colter’s truck pulled up alongside your car. Colter got out and noticed you leaning against your trunk, arms crossed and a scowl in place. Russell came around from the other side. 

“Either of you boys see two suicidal idiots around here? Oh, wait.”

Russell’s jaw tightened. “It wasn’t my idea to call you.” He slid a glare over to his brother. 

“You’re lucky he did,” you snapped. “And since I’m here,” You got to your feet and turned to open your trunk, revealing a smorgasbord of gear and weapons. “We’re going to be doing this my way.” You held out a bulletproof vest to Colter first and he immediately started to strap it on. You held one out to Russell but he shook his head and didn’t take it. You glanced over to find he had already put his own on while you’d been grabbing one for his brother.

“Okay, look,” Russell started, his eyes scanning your makeshift armory and setting your teeth on edge. “This isn’t some FBI raid of some drug gang. This guy, Carlos Solano, he’s the real deal. He’s as dangerous as they come.”

You could feel your irritation turning into anger at the suggestion that you didn’t know how serious this was, and from him of all people. “And what am I? Some part-time mall security guard? A receptionist at the Academy? I’ve dealt with cartels before and they’re as dangerous as they come, too. So take that mansplaining and shove it right up where the sun doesn't shine.”

Russell took a step closer and laid a hand on your shoulder, his eyes burning into you. “Be pissed at me all you want but I don’t want you getting hurt.”

“But you’re okay with your brother getting hurt?” You briefly glanced in Colter’s direction. The younger man was watching you two carefully as he adjusted his vest one last time, wisely choosing to stay out of this one. 

Russell’s jaw clenched and he dropped his hand. “I’ve got him.”

You snorted and grabbed a gun, loading it quickly. “And I’ve got both of you. Now, we’ve got a bit of a hike so let’s cut the chit chat and get this over with, shall we?” You motioned for Colter to turn around and you inserted an extra handgun into the back of his belt. “We stick together as a unit. You hear me? No wandering off alone.”

Colter faced you again. “Yes, Mom,” he teased.

You swatted at his shoulder before checking the fit of his vest, nodding in approval.

“I have done this before, you know.”

You knew that already. You’d been there with him a couple of times for such instances. “Good for you,” you quipped. “But for kicks, how about you just humor me?”

He rolled his eyes and you smirked, turning to slam the trunk shut. You glanced up to find Russell watching you, his jaw still tight but his eyes containing a familiar light that you hadn’t seen in a while. “You good?”

“Yep.” And just like that, the light hollowed out, replaced by something far colder yet familiar, but not because you’d seen it in his gaze. You’d seen it often enough in your own when looking into the mirror. 

Pushing that thought away and shifting focus, you began to lead the way into the trees. “Alright, let’s do this and get Doug home in time for breakfast.” Colter flanked you on your right while Russell came up on your left. 

“Let’s rock and roll,” he agreed. 

It hadn’t been as bad as you’d been expecting, even after you’d received the intel Colter had referred to on the phone. One guard and three henchmen. You were annoyed and almost insulted that they had presented so little a challenge considering Carlos Solano was supposed to be this big bad criminal. But when you glanced over and saw Colter looking over Russell’s bloody jacket sleeve, you regretted the thought and gratitude immediately filled you that things hadn’t been worse. Russell had taken a bullet to the arm and thankfully, it had passed right through. 

Before you could shoot the bastard that shot him, Colter and Russell were on it. You watched in awe as the brothers moved as a single unit, almost as if they hadn’t been strained or missed a beat over the years. You supposed you should be happy that they were working together rather than still arguing over shit from a lifetime ago that had torn their family apart. For Colter’s sake at least.

Just then, you heard what sounded like a small plane outside. You hurried to a window and glanced outside, seeing a rapidly descending charter plane aiming for the tiny landing strip in the back of the property. Right on time.

You let the curtain fall and looked back at the guys. “Time to go.”

Doug’s face was ashen while Colter and Russell exchanged glances. Immediately, Russell picked up his gun and got ready to leave the room.

You rushed to stop him. “There will be none of that!” 

“You guys get Doug back to the truck. I’ll handle this.”

You practically jogged around him, planting yourself in his path. “Not happening.”

He glared down at you. “Y/N, I need to close this up. Move.”

You scowled right back. “You’ve been shot.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

“I have to finish this.”

You refused to budge. “You are not finishing anything. You’re getting the hell out of here, that’s what you’re doing.” 

“Y/N—”

“Guys, not the time,” Colter interceded. “He’s getting off that plane any second now, so what’s the plan?”

“She’s right, man,” Doug added, making both of your gazes snap over at him. “We really need to go.”

Voices suddenly sounded outside and you all glanced towards the window.

“Shit,” you muttered, quickly checking the chamber on your gun. As you were about to head out of the room, a hand grasped gently under your chin and forced your eyes to meet Russell’s. You could see the pleading there but also a stone-cold resignation. “Go with Colter and Doug,” he urged, giving you a brief but strained smile. “I need you to go.” You felt the rough skin of his thumb on your cheek as he moved it tenderly back and forth.

You knew what he was really telling you, what he planned to do, but hell if you weren’t more infuriated with him. You were so sick of the self-sacrificial bullshit. Hadn’t it cost you enough? Cost you both?

You pulled away from him, giving him a glare. “I don’t think you understand,” you said in a tone so cold you were pretty sure you could give the winds in Antarctica a run for their money. “I’m taking Solano in and I am not leaving until I have my suspect alive and in custody.” Russell looked pissed but you couldn’t care less. Better than him being dead in the next two minutes.

You turned to face Colter and Doug so they also got the message. “This case is under Federal jurisdiction now.” Colter glanced between you and his brother who you turned back to face. “I’m bringing him in. Got it?”

Russell went to say something but didn’t get the chance. The sounds of gunfire erupted right outside the room and you all had to duck for cover. 

You secured your handcuffs around Carlos Solano’s wrists that had been forced behind his back once you shoved him into the chair in the room, purposely tightening the metal bracelets past the point of comfort. The man reacted, cursing you out as you smirked up at him. 

Getting to your feet, you focused on the Shaws and Doug. Russell watched you with a glare while Colter waited for you to speak. Doug looked downright terrified. They had helped you to take down Solano’s men who had flown with him — all three of them. Russell aimed for Solano but at the last second, you got in his way and tackled the criminal to the ground. Needless to say, he wasn’t happy with you. Oh well. The feeling was mutual.

Colter placed his hands on his hips. “Alright, so how are we getting him back to the truck? Are we just going to drag him through the woods and hope we don’t come across anybody else he might have coming here? How are we going to work this?”

You slipped your gun back into your holster. “He doesn’t have anyone else coming here and the plan is that you three are going to head back to the truck and get out of here. I’m going to wait for a pickup,” You gestured towards the window with your thumb where the landing strip could be seen. “They’re nearby, waiting for my call, and they won’t take long to get here.” You shook your phone in your hand, indicating you were going to be using it.

Russell glanced around, as if expecting Agents to start popping up out of the woodworks at any second, before his eyes settled back on you. “So you called this in after all?”

You shrugged. “You were going into a fully armed compound to rescue a hostage, a two-man team against a crime lord on the FBI’s Most Wanted list? Yeah, of course, I did.”

He shook his head, chuckling and muttering a curse under his breath. “Of course you did,” he echoed, shooting a look over at his brother. 

Colter’s gaze flickered back to you. “We’ll wait with you until they get here.”

You offered up a small smile. “I appreciate it but not necessary. I’ve got this until they get here and I do the handover.”

“But—”

“Look, you should get Doug out of here.” You inclined your head in the direction of the man who was staring dazedly at the floor. “You need to get him checked out and your brother should get his arm looked at.”

“I’m fine,” Russell interjected.

You ignored him. “I’ll be alright, Colter. Believe it or not, you tend to get experience with this kind of thing once or twice before becoming a Special Agent.” You meant it as a light-hearted reassurance but you could tell that both Shaw brothers were going to be a hard sell. At least Colter’s reasoning was up front and above board.

“I’m sure but I don’t feel comfortable leaving you alone. Not with him.” Colter gestured towards Solano who spit in his direction.

“I won’t be for long. But you guys need to get out of here. The Bureau can’t know you were involved in this.” You shot him a meaningful look. “For multiple reasons.”

The younger man looked as if he was going to protest again when you held up a hand. “Colter. You may not like it but you need to do as I’m telling you. If the Bureau finds any of you here…” You could tell that he didn’t care so much about himself but you let your eyes briefly flick in Russell’s direction, who was busy glaring at the man you had bound to the chair. You saw Colter’s expression immediately change and you knew you had succeeded in convincing him to vacate the area as soon as possible.

He nodded his head in assent. “Okay.” He laid a hand on Doug’s shoulder, prompting the man to look up at him, and urged him to start moving to the door.

“Okay? What do you mean okay?” Russell huffed.

Colter held up a hand. “Russell—”

“No.” Russell turned a glare on you. “Not okay. He’s a loose end that needs tying up. He knows who we are now, he came after Doug, and the FBI isn’t going to do shit with him.” You narrowed your eyes in a glare but he continued. “That’s not an insult. It’s the truth and you know it. They’re going to what? Get him to talk, to roll over on someone else he has connections to who’s higher up their food chain, and he gets off scot free? No, not happening on my watch.” 

He took a step forward and so did you, in front of Solano. You drew your gun but held it loosely across your waist, your finger on the trigger, ready and waiting should you need it. Russell stopped cold, his eyes flickering back and forth between you and the weapon in your hand. Colter and Doug were frozen, watching the scene unfold.

“I told you,” you said in the most deadly serious tone you could muster. “I’m taking him in, alive. If you have a problem with that, well…” You flipped the safety on the gun off. “You’ll have to go through me. And I promise you, my aim is a hell of a lot more accurate at close range than it’s ever been.”

Russell didn’t blink, he just kept scowling at you.

“Russ?” Colter called.

“Don’t make me kill you in front of him, Russell,” you murmured so only the two of you would hear. You were serious as a heart attack. No matter how you had felt about him once upon a time, this was important enough for you to make good on your threat if you needed to.

“You wouldn’t.”

“I would and it will be justified by the higher ups as protection of a high-valued target before your body goes cold.” You hated saying the words but it was nothing but the truth that you spoke. You hoped he heard the message underneath your words: walk away, this isn’t worth dying over. “And he’ll be further traumatized,” you inclined your head in Colter’s direction. “Losing his brother right in front of him, just like he lost his dad.” You knew that was a severely low blow but he also needed to hear you. 

As expected, Russell’s jaw clenched and you saw a twitch in the good arm he had, the one that was holding his gun. “Don’t be stupid and do that to him,” you warned. “Walk away.”

That cold look was back in his eyes again. You mentally prepared yourself for what was about to go down. You had hoped he wouldn’t force your hand but then again, Russell Shaw had always been the epitome of stubborn, usually to his own detriment…and yours.   

“Russell?” Colter tried again.

“Russ, come on, man. Let it be for now,” Doug added in, trying to help. “And let’s regroup.”

This time, Russell appeared to hear them both, his gaze breaking from yours momentarily, flickering over Solano behind you, who was laughing and smirking in the former’s direction, clearly enjoying the standoff over him. 

Russell’s eyes met yours again but this time, there was nothing familiar about the green you used to stare into when he’d sway with you on the dance floor to a slow song playing overhead or when you’d both wear matching sated grins and laugh, a pleasant exhaustion overtaking you as he pulled you into his arms in a motel bed. It was almost like staring into a dark void and you couldn’t help but wonder how often that void showed up during war or if the war created it — the old chicken or the egg question. Either way, you knew you’d succeeded in convincing him to leave, but you’d also have to watch yourself. There was no warmth left in those jade-colored orbs when they focused on you. You’d done your work well; you’d crossed a line that you could never go back from.

“Alright,” he capitulated, loud enough that the two men near the doorway heard him. He relaxed his arm and slipped his gun into a pocket in his vest. His face lightened a little and a strained smile worked its way across his face. He glanced back at his brother. “She’s right. We should get Doug out of here.” He turned back to face you, his smile fading. “She’s got this.” He then glanced in Solano’s direction, smirking right back. “I’ll see you soon,” he promised, giving him a finger gun and winking, before his expression became stone once more and he walked away, glaring at you as he did.

You lifted your chin, not reacting in the slightest, until Solano shouted out, “You’ll be seeing me? No, puta, I’ll be seeing you. You’ll never see it coming, you hear me? You’ll never see it co—” You spun a few degrees and pistol-whipped him, causing the jackass to cry out in pain before you turned back to face Doug and the two most important men in your life. “Get going,” you growled out, lifting your phone with your other hand as a subtle threat.

Colter gave you a nod, the concern still there in his dark brown gaze as he led Doug out the door. Russell’s eyes never left you, even when he walked out the door a moment later, following his little brother’s lead. You never looked away even when he was past the threshold. 

You ignored Solano’s yelling threats and kept your eyes on the spot you had last seen the Shaws disappear through a few minutes longer than needed, tense and ready in case Russell decided to double back. Though you highly doubted he’d come at you from the same angle. A part of you was making sure you stayed prepared in case there was an ambush, yes, but another part of you knew your gaze was lingering on the spot because you knew things had now drastically changed between you and Russell forever. He would never forgive your threats and you would never forgive yourself for having to make them. Though that remorse was more related to Colter than his brother. Regardless, when it came to the Shaws now, you were fucked. Not even Dory would want to hear from you, not that she had all that much before, but now it was definitely a no go. And that saddened you tremendously.

Hearing more of Solano’s threats, you recentered your focus on the task at hand and prepared to wait, giving him one more pistol whip for good measure, before you settled in and kept both eyes and ears open for any possible ambush that might come your way before you could finish up here. 

You leaned against the workstation next to the chair, waiting, gun still in hand and your eyes focused on it. You had waited a certain amount of time to allow the boys to get out of the area.

“The soldado was right, you know. They’re not going to hold me,” Solano bragged.

You briefly closed your eyes in annoyance. He had been talking ever since you were left alone with him. He had offered you money to let him go, offered you riches and power that you knew for a fact he had no business offering. He even had the nerve to propose making you one of his new lieutenants, citing your fighting skills and gun handling that he’d briefly witnessed. He knew you would be able to protect him because you had from the asesinos who had killed his brother. He then changed tactics, threatening you, your loved ones, the men who just left…now, he was boasting about how he would walk free and whatever charges were thrown at him wouldn’t stick. You just wished he would shut the hell up already. Needless to say, it had been a long twenty minutes. You now understood why his brother had been the businessman and he was only the muscle willing to do the dirty work. His bargaining skills were for shit, not that it mattered in the scheme of things. No deals were being made today.

“I offer them a little bit of money and they’ll just make the case go away. Just like that.”

You checked your watch. Twenty two minutes now. That was good enough. You slowly got to your feet and moved past him to look out the window. You had purposely moved his chair out of the sight of the glass, in case Russell got any ideas.

“That’s how it works here in America. Everybody knows that. If the criminals have money and power, they don’t stay in jail.”

You ignored him, glancing around to see if there was any movement outside. You didn’t see any. 

“They won’t keep me locked up. They weren’t able to in my home country. What makes you think they’ll be able to here? Where corruption is ripe and anyone can be bought? And then I’ll be coming for you and for your friends. You will wish for death long before I am through with you.”

You made your way to another window, lifting the curtain and looking around. Still nothing.

“There’s no point in bringing me to jail. It will never hold me.”

You lowered the curtain and squared your shoulders, turning to face his direction. You focused on him, staring right into his eyes. “You know, I think you’re right.”

Solano seemed pleasantly surprised for a moment, thinking you were finally stupid enough to take one of his offers, before his eyes narrowed with realization. “No, wait—”

You quickly lifted your gun and squeezed off a round. His head snapped back from the force and the space behind him was spattered with red among other things. One glance confirmed your aim had been accurate; he was dead. Right through the eye. What you’d said to Russell earlier hadn’t been an exaggeration; you were much more accurate at close range than you’d ever been.

You slipped a pair of gloves on that you pulled from your pants pocket and immediately started unzipping the small compartments on the side of your vest where you usually kept extra ammo in a raid, pulling out small white bottles that weren’t sporting any labels. You began to squirt the liquid from inside them all around the room, dousing Solano’s body with a healthy amount.

You continued into the house, having quite a few bottles of lighter fluid to empty out in specific areas that would help achieve your goal. Arson wasn’t your preferred route but it did get rid of pesky little things like hair and DNA, and what it didn’t, it contaminated which would make it harder for not only law enforcement but the justice system to work with. Though you weren’t too worried about either looking at this particular house fire too closely.

You didn’t bother collecting any bullet casings, knowing that your gun and the ones you’d given Colter to use would be untraceable even if they somehow managed to get a hold of any of the weapons (which they wouldn’t). And Russell’s gun…you figured he had that handled. The only thing you did collect were your handcuffs. 

You also didn’t bother staging anything for the scene. There was already enough evidence that pointed to the theory that Solano’s own men had turned on him and a gunfight ensued, resulting in the multiple dead bodies. While an arson specialist would most likely be able to tell that an accelerant had been used, there was no way for them to confirm just who had been present for this battle and who had gotten away. Satellite imagery would be shoddy at best due to the foliage cover (and eventual smoke) but still, you planned to set the fire and make your getaway out the back, crossing over the landing strip so if they went back to look for any heat signatures after the fire started, it would be one person leaving the scene alive, the person they would assume had started the blaze. There were no nearby neighbors to immediately call first responders but that didn’t mean smoke wouldn’t be seen from the sky from miles away or that a fiery orange blaze in the distance wouldn’t be noticed by residents of another vacation home or cars traveling the backroads in the area. Since you planned to go into the deep woods and take the long roundabout route back to your car, you weren’t too worried about your path being followed.

Once you had completed all of your tasks, you used the fireplace to help, moving the grate out of the way, starting a fire, and then knocking a fiery log onto the wooden flooring. You used a lighter to set flammable materials that you could find to add to the flames. Only when the room was nearly engulfed did you finally slip a beanie from your pocket, cover your head fully, and make your way out of the house. Once at the landing strip, you ducked under the plane, making sure you couldn’t be seen from above. 

You watched as the flames consumed the house. Once the smoke was sufficient, flames were ragings out of the windows, and the sound of breaking glass could be heard, you knew it was time for you to vacate the vicinity before the sirens started up. It was fortunate that most people were asleep at this hour but the sun was due to come up not too long from now and you had a long trek ahead of you, so you needed to get moving.

You kept your head down and made your way into the woods surrounding the property line. 

The sun was breaching the horizon and quickly warming the sky by the time you made it back to your car. You were relieved that Colter’s truck was gone and you needed to quickly make tracks as well. Sirens had started up an hour ago and you needed to get the hell out of Dodge before the cops were all over these roads. You tossed your weapons and vest into the trunk and got in the car. You slipped your beanie off your head, tossing it onto the seat next to you, and started the engine.

Just as you had expected, cops were everywhere but thankfully, you had timed it just right and gotten out before they could block all of the mountain roads. Once you were back in town a few hours later and a certain distance away, you pulled a phone out of your glove compartment you kept there for emergencies and turned it on. You pressed a button and it immediately dialed the number programmed — the only number you had saved on this device. 

It rang once before the same voice from yesterday picked up. “Is it done?”

“We’re clear,” you confirmed. “It’s been handled.”

“Shaw?”

Your jaw clenched. You knew that despite how you and Russell had left things earlier, you would do whatever it took to keep him breathing. “He’s a soldier. He follows orders.”

“He wasn’t so willing to follow orders in this situation.”

“You know what they’re taught. Leave no man behind. He got his man so he’ll be fine. Things can go back to how they were. He’s not going to be an issue and he’s clean, just like you wanted.”

And then you were asked the one question you didn’t want to hear. “And the brother? What’s your assessment?”

The knuckles of your free hand gripped your steering wheel so tightly that you could see how white your skin turned from the pressure. “Non-issue. He has no interest in you.”

“He seemed interested yesterday.”

You forced yourself to remain calm and nonchalant. “He’s paid to be nosy when someone goes missing so he can get them found. He found who he was looking for, he was able to keep the promise to the guy’s wife — it’s over for him. The case is closed, it’s as simple as that for him. He’s no threat.”

You waited to hear a response, holding your breath and your hand gripping the wheel even tighter, your body tensed. This would be what decided your fate. Either you would be allowed to go on as before or you’d be going on a mission up against one of the top private security contractor firms in the world which wouldn’t end well for you. But you’d take out whoever you could with you before you were killed.

Another moment passed before the voice replied, “Understood.”

Your body relaxed slightly and your shoulders sunk in relief. Colter was safe. Russell was safe…for now. And you didn’t have to go all Rambo Kamikaze on anyone. Win-win all around.

“I’ll let the higher ups know the situation has been contained. Good work. We’ll be in touch.”

Without waiting for a response from you, the call disconnected. You quickly shut the phone off and tossed it back into its original spot. You let out a deep breath and the exhaustion from the past twelve hours immediately overtook your body. Deciding that returning to your place was not an option for you right now, you headed to another part of town, parked your car on the street some blocks away to the nearest motel, and using a baseball cap to cover your hair along with sunglasses, you hoofed it and then booked a room, paying cash and using a fake name. Once you set up everything you needed to in your quarters, you slipped onto the mattress and got some much needed rest, keeping your gun under your pillow within reach should you need it.

You pulled up to Colter’s trailer, watching as he stepped outside to greet you. You put your car in park, took a deep breath, and got out. You offered Colter a small smile. “Hey.”

He returned it. “Hey.”

You had been surprised when Colter called you a few days later to let you know he was still in town for a bit and invited you to drop by for a beer. Not surprised that he was still around (you already knew that) but surprised that he even wanted to speak to you. Perhaps Russell hadn’t told him what you’d threatened back in the mountains.

You took the beer he offered to you and followed him over to the firepit, taking a seat on one of the coolers. He sat nearby and held up his bottle in a toast. You mirrored him and then you both took a sip. You nearly sighed in satisfaction as the carbonated beverage slid down your throat. You enjoyed the taste and checked the label. “Mmm, home brew…not bad. You got something you want to tell me? Planning on opening some sort of brewery outfit anytime soon?” You were teasing but if Colter really was thinking of doing something else — anything else — instead of his current job, you’d fully support it.

“Not me.” Disappointment flared in your chest, your hope dashed. “Russ was actually the one who made it. I had some left over from the other night.”

The beer suddenly began to sour in your stomach. Well, you supposed it was good that Russell was starting to think of the future, the most important part of that being that there would be one. It still burned a bit, though.

You decided to change the subject so you wouldn’t have to think about that right then. “So, your guy is back home safe?”

Colter nodded. “Dropped him off myself.” Something else you already knew but you had to keep up appearances.

You nodded, biting your lip and staring into the flames. “And your brother?”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Colter’s jaw tense for a moment. “Gone.” Though you had an idea that was the case, Colter’s confirmation still stung, like someone poking a finger into an old wound after ripping the scar tissue away. But what else had you expected? This was Russell Shaw you two were talking about after all.

You snorted and shook your head, taking another swig of beer. “Of course he is.”

He turned to look at you. “You know, you never told me what happened between you two.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Not worth going into, trust me.”

Thankfully, Colter left it alone and he rolled with it when you brought up a different topic instead. 

“So, how much longer are you here for?”

“Teddi and Velma are working on that right now actually. Hopefully, something pops up soon.” He took another sip of beer, turning to gaze at the flames as well.

“It will.” Fortunately for him and sadly for others, someone would always go missing.

“How about you? Are they sending you somewhere for a new case or are they going to let you stay local for a bit? If it’s the latter, maybe you could get a dog for that place of yours?”

You smirked and ran your thumb down the smooth glass of the brown bottle in your hand. Colter kept teasing you about the residence you maintained nearby considering you were never really there most of the time. He’d then extoll the virtues of living on the open road, not having roots put down anywhere that would grow into expectations, and the unrestrained thrill of it all. The first time you’d had that conversation, you knew then that the desire to keep moving and stay unburdened must be a male Shaw thing. Dory seemed happy where she had settled and you — you wanted a home base. Some place you could come back to where you were still able to connect to yourself again, no matter how lost at sea you might be at times, no matter how much you felt as if every single piece of you was floating away on the wind until only a monster was left standing there, staring back at you in the rearview mirror of your car.

“Right now, I have a few things I need to close up,” you lied. “Then I’ll probably get sent out in the field again to work some cases.” You hated lying to him but you had no choice. His safety came first. As much as you had hated Russell for a time, you could now appreciate the difficult position he was in. Though, he had chosen to be put there, and now, so had you. 

You watched Colter nod, accepting your answer. “I still think a German Shepherd would be a great choice for you,” he teased. “You know, a big dog, trainable, would make a good guard dog. You could take it with you, chase suspects down together...”

“Oh yeah, I could see it now,” you played along. “I’d have to sneak him into hotel rooms, make sure he doesn’t take a shit on the rug… Then we’d go on the job and I could introduce him to everyone, ‘I’m Special Agent Y/L/N but you can call me Turner and this is my partner Hooch.’”

Colter winced. “No, no. You have to give him a name that will strike fear into the hearts of the criminals you track down. Like General or Commando or Killer. Killer! Now that’s a good name. That will make anyone think twice about running from a dog with that name.”

This time, you were the one who winced though you hid it well. Instead, you forced out a laugh. “I am not getting a huge dog named Killer and bringing him to work with me.”

He grinned. “That’s a shame. I would have loved to have seen the look on your face when the dog would sit in the front seat.”

“There would be no front seat sitting. Back seat only.”

“Like a criminal who he just helped you to arrest? That’s cold, even for you.”

“I am so glad that you have this imaginary dog of mine’s back.”

He snickered and took a drink, looking back at the flames. Your smile slowly faded as you did the same. You both sat there, drinking in a companionable silence for a bit.

Eventually, your eyes flickered over towards him. “I need you to promise me something.”

His brows drew together questioningly when he met your gaze.

“Horizon…” You noticed him tense slightly at the mention. “No more.” When you saw the confusion in his expression, you elaborated. “No more digging, no more Reenie asking her contacts about them, no more mention of them period. You got the guy you were looking for. Now, put it to bed and forget that you ever knew they existed.”

His confusion increased. “I did put it to bed the second I dropped Doug off at his door and saw him hug his wife.”

You gave him a look. “Col, I need you to promise me,” you softly entreated. 

His brows arched slightly at the use of the nickname; you didn’t use it often and if you were, then he knew you meant business. He also knew what you were telling him without explicitly saying it; Horizon was dangerous and they were better left alone. It would be better for him to get a case of sudden amnesia about anything related to the organization.

He watched you for a moment before giving you a nod. “As long as nobody else goes missing like Doug did and as long as Russ is okay, they’re forgotten.”

You knew that was the best you were going to get from him and you leaned forward slightly. “And if anything happens to Russ, I’ll be right there with you, knocking on their front door,” you promised. And you would be; no question about it.

The corner of his lips tipped up in the beginning of a smile and after a moment, you couldn’t help but return it. 

The coffee shop you were in was decently quiet considering it was around 8:55 in the morning and most people were making their last minute dashes for caffeine before the working day began. You sat near the window, facing the entrance so you could keep an eye on who came in and out. You had ordered your usual, a soy vanilla latte, and you carefully sipped at the hot liquid. You scanned your phone for the day’s headlines, looking for any updates on the mysterious house fire that started in the mountains a few nights ago.  

You knew you wouldn’t find any and sure enough, you didn’t. Someone was working overtime to squash the case from up above, just like you knew they would. You also knew that some local law enforcement officials didn’t buy the criminals-turning-on-their-boss theory and they actually thought the scene looked like a professional hit. Exactly what you figured would happen when accelerants had been found to be used at the scene. As much as you were sure the cops were looking to sink their teeth into something exciting to happen in those parts in however long, the bottom line was the case would get dropped and no one was going to care what happened to a violent criminal like Carlos Solano. The FBI would actually be relieved to remove one more name from their list, one more file from their desks. One more dangerous bad guy removed from the world that threatened American citizens as well as national security. No one was going to miss the murderous bastard.

You powered down your screen and placed your phone on the table, turning to glance out the window. That was when you saw him. Well, the reflection of him. 

You watched as he walked towards you, still dressed in a ratty pair of jeans and old boots, wearing another t-shirt with a different musician on it while sporting an open button-up over it, and donning that old military style jacket. His eyes were intent on you and you had to wonder how he had gotten in without you seeing him. The answer was in the reflection of someone walking past him to get to the bathrooms in the rear of the cafe. There was no exit located near there, you knew that because this was a local spot of yours, so how did he… Shit.

Even though you watched him in the glass and he watched you back, you didn’t give anything away to alert him that you knew he was there. You started calculating in your head how many people stood in between you and the front door (your only exit at this point), how much force you would have to use to catch him off guard and knock him to the ground so you could make your escape, and how fast you would have to run to your car. You even had a moment to debate drawing your gun and your badge, and making a scene to get yourself out of this mess. But all of that proved to be for naught when he came to a stop near you and announced his presence by asking, “This seat taken?”

You slowly turned to face him, arching an inquisitive brow, but you eventually shook your head. His lips twitched into the beginning of a smirk and he took the seat across from you. His eyes were a lot lighter than they were the other day as they took you in. “Looking good, Y/N. Like always.”

Your eyes narrowed. “Really?”

He shrugged and reached for your coffee, taking the lid off. You hated it when he did this, the whole sharing coffee thing; now you would need to order another one…well, depending on how this impromptu meeting went. “What, I can’t tell my girl that she looks good?” He took a sip and made a face. “How do you still drink this crap? It tastes like foam mixed with shit.”

“And free garbage coffee from the lobby of the latest scuzzy motel you’re staying in doesn’t?”

“Hey, don’t knock it. They have real nice machines now and it tastes the way coffee should. Not like this bullshit.”

You watched as he grabbed a spoon, added some sugar, and began stirring the crap out of what had once been your perfect latte. You thought over what he���d said before. “I’m not your girl, Russell.” His eyes met yours. “I haven’t been for some time now.”

He finished stirring and removed the spoon, lifting the glass to take a sip. “You’ll always be my girl.”

You snorted and lifted a finger in the air to signal to the barista that you wanted another coffee. The kid gave you a nod and turned to make it. “Is that what you tell yourself when you’re hooking up with cheerleaders-turned-dental-hygienists in hot tubs?”

Russell pressed his lips together and looked appropriately chastised, not even bothering to deny it. “Colter told you. I should’ve known he would mention it. You two were always close like that.”   

You didn’t confirm or deny that. There was no point in mentioning that Colter hadn’t been the one to tell you, not intentionally anyway. Instead, you leaned forward in your chair. “What do you want, Russell?”

“I wanted to talk to you.”

“About what?” You snapped. You had been on edge, thinking he was here to either kill you or threaten you. Then him hitting on you and making that asinine and incredibly presumptuous statement bothered you more than you cared to admit. Not to mention he pissed you off when he took the latte you’d decided to treat yourself with after a few difficult days (without even asking you might add), knowing how that had irked you anytime he did it when you were dating. It was like the man was begging you to put a foot in his ass.

Russell glanced around briefly before removing something from inside his jacket. It was a folded up newspaper and he slapped it down in front of you. A picture of a burnt out structure stared back up at you with the headline reading above it “House Fire Claims 8 Lives, Sheriff Confirms Arson”. Your eyes met his and in that moment, you knew that he knew.

You refused to give it away just like that, though. If he wanted the truth, he’d have to work for it. He wasn’t getting anything for free, not from you, not anymore. You gave him a smirk. “Is this your way of telling me that you’ve finally learned to read, Russ? I’m impressed, really.”

Instead of being insulted, his eyes widened slightly. “You called me Russ.”

You sat back in your chair, pushing the newspaper away from you and prying eyes, waiting for the barista making his way over to you to deliver your coffee. “Slip of the tongue. Won’t happen again.” You smiled at the young kid in thanks when he placed the drink down in front of you and promptly slid your glass out of Russell’s reach. He saw it and immediately worked to smother a smile as the kid walked away.

“So, you got any more interesting tricks I should know about?”

Without any preamble, Russell said, “Solano’s dead,” the exact second you took a sip of your new coffee. If he was expecting any reaction to the news, he was in for disappointment when you didn’t give it.

“Yes, I heard. Quite unfortunate.”

“They’re all dead actually. Even that guard we subdued in the beginning.”

You remembered; you’d been the one to kill him after all. Once Russell and Colter got to their feet after knocking the guard out and started moving towards the house, you quietly pulled a knife and slipped the blade into the side of the man’s head. You’d cut his zip ties, removed them and the gag, and then caught up to the guys — all within seconds. You had made sure to move the guard’s body inside later, right before you’d started the fire, trying your best to get rid of any drag marks you’d left on the ground. You were there to clean up the mess, not leave witnesses, even if they had never seen any of you coming.

You nodded. “I know, I heard that, too. Is there a point here somewhere or can I get back to the nice morning I was having before you showed up to steal my coffee?”

Russell was the one to lean forward this time, lowering his voice even further. “You said you were calling in the FBI for a pickup. Who did you really call?”

You could tell he was trying to give you an out, an opportunity to explain that it wasn’t what he was thinking, and maybe you should have lied your ass off…but you no longer wanted to. You knew Russell; he wasn’t going to let this go until he had an answer that he deemed to be the truth. And while you could give him a distorted version of that truth that didn’t land at your feet, a petty part of you wanted him to know. 

“Y/N?” He pressed. “Who did you call?”

You sat back in your chair, considering him for a moment before you spoke. “No one.”

Russell dropped his head, briefly closing his eyes. “Fuck, I was afraid of that.” He glanced up at you, his eyes full of a sadness you hadn’t seen in some time. You knew he wouldn’t be happy if he ever found out the truth, but not to this extent. “I told you to walk away and let me handle it.” His voice was softer, not as gruff as before. You realized then that you’d accomplished what that vindictive side of you had wanted all along, ever since the day he walked away; you’d hurt him and caused him pain. Pain that you could see clear as day lining his face right now. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. And quite frankly, that pain caught you off guard. After all of this time, this is what it took for him to feel even a sliver of what you’d felt back in the day when he’d left you bleeding, your heart torn from your chest and sitting in pieces on the floor he’d just casually walked over to get to the door?

Not really sure what to make of this development or the emotions it caused to rise up within you, you went into pure professional mode and forged ahead. “The three of you didn’t need to be involved.” You could see the pain getting worse and it made you uncomfortable, something prodding at your chest and itching at your skin that you really didn’t care for. “Besides, last I checked, I don’t take orders from you, Shaw.” You threw his last name in there as a last resort to put even more distance there between you.

His eyes flicked from the newspaper to you. “Who do you take orders from then? Something tells me this wasn’t FBI-sanctioned.” 

You surreptitiously glanced around you before leaning in, lowering your voice.“You know, going to your handler’s house during her kid’s birthday party was a pretty bad idea. Ann really didn’t like that.” You watched as Russell’s eyes widened slightly before his face fell, a dreaded realization filling his expression. He had never mentioned her name to you before and he knew Colter hadn’t mentioned her to you either when giving you the rundown of what they knew before meeting up in the mountains. You sat back, tensed and ready for whatever came next. 

His jaw clenched. “How long?” He ground out.

“Long enough.”

You kept your gaze trained on his and you did your best to read him, trying to assess what he might do, now that the pain was all but absent since your revelation. Would he tell you to watch your back and leave? Would he tell you to stay away from Colter for good? It was hard to gauge from the way he was staring at you right then. You could see anger bubbling underneath but you also caught something coming to the surface that strangely looked like remorse. Considering you hadn’t seen that emotion on him too often, it was tough to be sure in your identification of it. And then something flickered in his eyes right then, something so fast you almost didn’t catch it, but you did. Fear that quickly dissolved into determination. You braced yourself for whatever he would say or do; this was it. This would determine your next steps.

Instead, he surprised you once more. He snatched the newspaper up and slipped it back into his jacket, before reaching over and taking your hand in his. “I’m getting you out of here. Now. Let’s go.”

Stunned, you wordlessly got to your feet but then it hit you, you were about to go somewhere alone with him. Not that you couldn’t handle yourself but he had still been Special Ops once upon a time and he killed people for a living…just like you. 

“Russell, I’m not—”

“Yes, you are,” he growled. “I’m getting you as far from here as I can. I’ve got a buddy who has a cabin in upstate New York. It’s got months-long supplies, power and running water, and a small armory. You’ll be safe there until this whole thing blows over.”

You yanked your hand out of his and grabbed your phone and jacket. “I’m plenty safe here. I have no reason to run, so I’m staying. You want to leave? Go right ahead. We both know it’s what you’re best at.” The sadness was back but you looked away from it. Yes, that had been another low blow but it was also well-deserved. You moved past him, refusing to look over your shoulder even once. There was no way he’d do anything out in the open; he wouldn’t dare risk it, especially now.

You slipped into your car, not surprised in the least when Russell got in on the other side before you could even think about locking the doors.

“What are you doing?” You hissed.

“What’s it look like?” He clicked his seatbelt. “I’m staying with you until you agree to my plan to get you someplace safe or you explain how the hell this even happened.” He pulled out the newspaper, holding it up for a moment before tossing it to the floor. You could see the determined set to his jaw and you knew he meant it. 

“Russell,” You pinched the bridge of your nose. “I do not have time for this.” You blew out a quiet breath and turned to face him. “Now I suggest you get out of my car or—”

“You’ll shoot me?” He shot you a look. Yeah, he was still pissed about the threats you’d made a few nights ago. You supposed you couldn’t blame him but you did what you had to do to get him and his brother out of there. You had regrets but they were slim. “We both know you won’t.”

That infuriated you and had you seething. “You think I won’t?”

“I know you won’t. Just like I know that no matter how much you tell yourself that you hate me, you really don’t.”

You scoffed out a laugh in disbelief. “Wow, you really are incredibly delusi—”

“I also know you would never do that to my brother.” Your glare in his direction intensified. “You’ve always been protective of him. Just like me.” A glimmer of a fond smile worked its way onto his bearded face.

Your jaw clenched and you looked away from him, back towards the coffee shop you had just stormed out of, your grip tightening on your steering wheel. It was true; you’d always looked out for Colter in some way ever since you’d gotten to know him through Russell. 

While the relationship between the brothers had been strained for years, it didn’t mean that there hadn’t been a couple of times where Dory hadn’t attempted to get them into a room together to try to fix what had been broken. In one such instance, Russell had brought you along, after shocking you by asking you two nights before to accompany him. The man had spent over a decade in the military, worked Special Ops, and there wasn’t much he was afraid of, if at all. But when you were wrapping leftovers to throw into the fridge and he’d laid a hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him, you’d never seen Russell Shaw look so worried, vulnerable, and damn near terrified in all of the time you’d known him. You’d even felt it when he’d enfolded you into his arms and whispered into your ear that he was due to meet up with his family in the next two days, asking you to come with him. How could you say no to that? You knew of the family’s tragic history and the simmering tensions that still existed between the Shaws who were still alive; Russell had told you everything, even about how his mom had hung him out to dry (though he made excuses for her which made you grind your teeth). And for him to ask you to go, to meet his family, you knew then just how important this was for him. So you went, squeezed his hand in silent support whenever he appeared to need it, and did your best to provide distraction whenever things got a little too tense or heated. Dory didn’t care for you too much; you got the distinct feeling that she wasn’t happy Russell had brought an interloper to a family-only discussion. But Colter…Colter you got along with from the start. 

Colter seemed happier to talk to you than his brother and you could tell that bothered Russell tremendously. He had told you once how much he missed his siblings at times, especially his little brother, and he would never stop hoping to patch things up with them one day. Sure enough, he tried to interject into the conversation a few times with you helping as much as you could, but each time Colter shut him down. It was blatantly obvious that the younger man wanted nothing to do with him and there was definitely some resentment still floating around after years of estrangement. Needless to say, things hadn’t ended well at that dinner and you weren’t surprised that Russell drank a little heavier that night. Nor were you surprised when he grasped at you in the hotel room and pulled you to him, his lips claiming yours as he began unbuttoning your shirt and moving you towards the bed. You knew he was hurting and you let him take solace in you as you whispered loving assurances in his ear. 

After that, Colter surprised you by calling you a couple of months down the road, apologetically asking for your help on a case he had picked up. Though he didn’t know you well, he was in a rough spot and needed a helping hand, particularly a Federal one. You saw the opportunity for what it had been, an opening of a possible door between him and Russell, so you took it. You helped Colter as much as you could without risking being read the riot act by your superior, and you two got to know each other better as you worked together. It happened a few more times and you had even called Colter in to assist on a case of your own that you had snagged. You had gone for beers afterwards each time and you’d tried your best to talk to him, to convince him to give Russell a chance. He hadn’t been interested, was resistant to it even, but he liked you and he was starting to trust you a little more each time. He’d even reluctantly admitted once that he was glad his brother had you, immediately following up with “He better be treating you right, though.” You had simply smiled and assured him that Russell very much was. 

You didn’t mention the odd absences a few times a month (sometimes with little to no warning), the radio silence during these stints, and the avoidance of any penetrating questions upon his return — all of it that had become conditional to your relationship by that point. And Russell certainly wasn’t happy at all to find out you’d been working with Colter once you told him. You both had arguments before like any common couple but nothing like this. You had never seen him so angry and he’d laughed when you told him he had no need to be jealous if that was what he was worried about, you loved him and you were trying to make things better for the both of them, to pave the way for him to be able to make peace with his brother. 

“You just don’t get it.” 

He had shaken his head and glared over at you before he walked out of the room, away from you. From then on, Russell became even more secretive, distant, and cold as ice. Gone was the easy affection, heart to heart talks, and playful banter between you. Gone were the tender touches, gentle kisses, and passionate sex. The love of your life turned into a stranger right before your very eyes. It hadn’t been too long after that when he’d left for good, leaving your heart shattered on your hardwood floor. As time passed, you were surprised he hadn’t just packed up and left in the middle of the night while you were sleeping, without a single word to you and completely ghosting you, since he had been intent on leaving you in his past. It might have been kinder actually compared to the things he’d said to you as a final goodbye before walking away for good. 

So whenever you had dared to think back on it over the last few years, you’d always figured the fight over Colter had contributed in some way to the rapid unraveling of your relationship. Well, that fight and…other things.

“Let’s go somewhere we can talk,” Russell urged, breaking you out of your thoughts. “Come on, Y/N, you owe me that at least.”

You turned the most menacing glare on him that was possible for you to give someone. “I don’t owe you shit,” you bit out. How dare he say that? To you of all people?  

His jaw tightened and after a moment, he agreed with a soft nod. “Fair enough.” 

You broke away from his intent gaze a minute later, your decision made as you turned the car on. “You know what? If this will get you out of my life for good this time, then fine. Let’s talk. And don’t be so sure I won’t shoot you afterwards should you continue to piss me off. You’re right, I do care about Colter,” You scowled over at him. “But not that deeply.”

Russell matched your scowl but wisely kept quiet as you backed your car out of your parking spot. You felt an immediate surge of guilt for having said that about his younger brother. You did care about Colter, more than you would ever admit to anyone, even your ex. There was nothing remotely romantic between you two; there never had been and there never would be. But Russell had been right; you were protective of him. Not only because he was a good man but he also reminded you of someone you had lost long ago. You would bend over backwards to keep him safe (as safe as you could given his chosen career), even if it meant putting yourself in harm’s way. He had truly become like a brother to you. 

But you had also meant what you said just now. If Russell continued to irritate you, there was no way he was leaving this time without you putting a bullet in him. Right in his ass before the door could hit it when he turned his back on you for the last time. That or a good old fashioned ass kicking in the form of your right hook. After everything he’d done, he deserved nothing less.  

You pulled up to a local motel that you had booked a room at the last few days, in case you needed to close up shop and haul ass out of town quickly. It wasn’t the same establishment you had gone to the morning of the fire and you still had your place thirty minutes away, but you had learned it was always best to prepare for any eventuality. Especially after a job needing to be done so close to home. You had seen what happened with Doug; who was to say Horizon wouldn’t leave you out to dry, too, should the heat from the fire get a little too close?

You got out and headed over to the door, unlocking it and stepping inside, not looking back to see if Russell was following you. Neither of you had spoken on the ride over (which was probably for the best) and you didn’t glance at him once. Instead, you had done your damndest to tamp down the fury you felt racing through your veins as more and more memories played out in your mind. Now that Russell had a vague idea of the truth of what you had been doing all of this time, everything you had ever wanted to say to him seemed to be trying to rush to the surface as well as all of the pain you had endured.

You slipped your suit jacket off and tossed it onto the bedspread. You heard the door shut behind you and you spun around, seeing Russell’s eyes scanning the room, stopping on the bed, and then lifting to you. You scoffed and unbuttoned the sleeves of your blouse, rolling them up to your forearms. “Not happening so don’t even think about it,” you hissed.

“Wasn’t going there.”

You didn’t believe him. “Right.” You took a seat at the table and impatiently gestured to the seat across from you. “Well?”

He sat down and without missing a beat, dove right in. “How the hell did this even happen, Y/N?”

“Really? That’s what you’re starting out with?”

Russell shot you a look.

You let out an aggravated sigh and sat back in your chair, crossing your legs and getting comfortable. “I was recruited, not too long after you left.”

His jaw dropped. “They approached you?”

Nodding, your jaw tightened thinking back to that time. It wasn’t a memory you liked revisiting. You were at your lowest, Russell having just walked out like the four and a half years you’d spent together hadn’t meant a damn thing to him. He had been it for you. You had put everything you had into the relationship, which proved to be a difficult balancing act sometimes between your career at the Bureau and Russell’s job that he wouldn’t tell you too much about. You both had overcome so much together…all for him to tell you that he simply didn’t love you anymore, give you a shitty apology, and walk right out the door years later. Like you had simply been an amusing distraction, nothing more. Like you had merely been a stopping point in his journey and now he was bored and moving on. The breakup would’ve hurt regardless but the cold detached manner he’d spoken to you with caused more pain than you would have ever been willing to admit. It was a good thing you had already become a Special Agent by then, not stuck to any one location or field office, given how often you were hungover for some weeks there. You had attempted to track him down (which hadn’t been easy) to try to talk to him, to make him see reason; you didn’t believe that he had stopped loving you just like that. But when you had finally located him, he had been holed up in a dingy motel, similar to this one, but he wasn’t alone. That had hurt beyond words and it had taken everything for you not to say anything, not to let him see you, and turn back around, heading home with your tail between your legs and your head hanging in heartbroken defeat. 

None of it made sense to you. How had your life changed so drastically in a single day? Perhaps you had never really known Russell Shaw. Perhaps you only saw what he wanted you to see. But when you replayed the last few weeks of your relationship, even the fight over Colter, something still wasn’t jiving. So you buried yourself in work during the day and as deep into the bottle as you could during the late nights. Until they showed up.

“And you said yes?” He asked in disbelief.

Your eyes flicked to Russell, narrowing. “Why not? You did.”

He pressed his lips together. You had him there and he knew it. “That was different.”

“How?” You snapped. “Exactly how is that different, Russell?”

“I joined them long before you and I met.” Yeah, you knew that now. You knew everything he hadn’t told you the time you’d been together, minus the actual details of the off the books missions he went on. You now knew why Doug had never told Tracy anything either. Not only were they not allowed to, but It was safer that way.

“Well, bully for you, Shaw. You’ve got a few years on me at being a black ops agent and you’ve racked up a few more bodies than I have. Told way more lies, too. Congrats. Do we get you a cake or…?”

He leaned forward, covering your hand with his. “Stop. Just…talk to me,” he pleaded gently.

You hated it when he did that because you hated that it still affected you on some deep level. You rolled your eyes and moved your hand from underneath his, placing it in your lap. “They approached me about six months out from when you left.”

“Who approached you?”

Yeah, you weren’t giving him that. If you did, you knew he’d be on their doorstep in a second and that you couldn’t have. Not after you had just cleaned up the Solano mess and smoothed things over. “Doesn’t matter.”

“It does to me.” You knew that, could see it in his expression, but too bad. You both were in it now, had signed NDA’s, and details like that were meant to stay confidential anyway. 

“Someone did and that’s all you're getting.” You gave him a meaningful look. “Regardless, they offered me a job and I took it.”

You watched as Russell’s features tightened. “And the FBI thing?”

“Still active, though I’m now kept more as an ear to the ground, providing information and cleanup when need be.” You noticed a slight wince cross across his face. “They’re the ones I answer to and they’ve chosen to keep me there for the time being. I’m more effective in that setup.” Those words from your handler still burned you but over time, you had been able to adapt and utilize their refusal to fully bring you in to your advantage.

“And Solano and his men? Were they cleanup?”

You didn’t break away from his penetrating gaze and gave it to him straight. “You and Doug made quite a mess of things. So, yes, I was called in to clean it up.” He briefly closed his eyes in the same pain you had seen earlier, though you couldn’t fathom why. It had been nearly three years since he’d last professed to give a shit about you. Why would this even affect him? “Horizon wanted you kept clean and Doug was on his own. Then you idiotically showed up at Ann’s residence, not only tipping them off to the fact that you were sniffing around where you shouldn’t have been but then you allowed Colter to threaten them. You had to know that was going to ruffle quite a few feathers and put a target on your backs.”

His jaw clenched again and that dark void was back in his gaze. His fingers twitched near his phone and you knew he was itching to call his brother to check on him. “And they sent you to clean that up, too?”

You slowly shook your head. “No.” If they had, you wouldn’t be sitting here right now. Most likely, you’d be dead while Colter and Russell would hopefully be on the run or have gone into hiding. “Only to assess what threats you both posed to the organization.”

“And what was your assessment?” He watched you carefully. In this moment, you weren’t former lovers. You were two people with lethal skills and training, willing to do whatever it took to keep your loved ones safe, even from each other. 

You never broke away from his gaze, watching him back just as carefully. “What do you think?”

He stayed quiet for a moment, looking pensive and most likely turning your words over in his mind. You weren’t going to say it but knowing that gnawing feeling of constantly worrying about someone you cared deeply about, you wanted to make sure you both were on the same page of this topic. “And, Russell, if they had sent me for that, I never would.” His gaze immediately met yours. “Ever,” you promised. 

His eyes roamed over your face, most likely assessing if you were bullshitting him or telling the truth. Obviously having decided on the latter, after a minute or so, he gave you a nod. “How do you know they accepted your assessment, though? There’s no way they don’t know about you and Colter, you and me…”

This time, your jaw was the one clenching. Yeah, you were made aware of that fact when you had been approached for recruitment. That was how they knew about you, your career as a Federal agent, and how you had been involved with Russell once upon a time. When you found out more about Horizon from the inside, it didn’t surprise you one bit how deeply they dove into the background of their candidates or the amount of information they gathered on them. You’d even helped put together a few files yourself, without fully knowing what unit the candidates were being considered for of course. They kept a close watch on their assets and that was putting it lightly. 

So when you got involved with Russell, completely oblivious to what you were really getting into, Horizon had already scoped you out as well as Colter, Dory, their mother, Bobby, Reenie, Teddi, Velma — everyone. Even Colter’s on-again/off-again, Billie, and the mysterious circumstances of the death of the boys’ father. They knew it all. Horizon didn’t like surprises and you supposed you couldn’t blame them considering their line of work, but it also meant that you and everyone you cared about needed to be extra careful. 

It was one of the many reasons you couldn’t completely forgive Russell, though you now understood why he’d walked out when he did. Things had unraveled so badly between you that you’d started quietly digging into Horizon, not trusting what Russell had told you prior. Back then, you thought you’d find only what Russell had claimed: private security, perhaps a couple of Special Ops situations where an American hostage was retrieved in another country, or worse: he was lying to you and having an affair. Now, you knew he had told you the truth — a very scrubbed, limited version of the truth that omitted most of what he really did for the outfit. You remembered what he’d told you about a week and a half before he left. 

“You need to stop digging.” 

You looked upon him with confusion. One minute, you had been having a very tense and silent dinner where you could only hear forks scraping against the plates every so often, and the next, Russell was glaring over at you, speaking cryptically. “What are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You need to stop looking into Horizon and leave it alone. I mean it, Y/N. Let it be.” His eyes bored into you with warning before he got up from the table and took his plate into the kitchen, leaving you to finish your meal alone.    

Normally, you wouldn’t have listened, determined to get to the bottom of Russell’s mysterious employer, but considering how your relationship was hanging by a thread at that point, you did. Despite the warning bells going off in your head, you did as exactly as he said: you let it be. 

You suddenly remembered Russell’s question to you. “You’re still breathing, aren’t you?”

Russell affected a slow nod, thinking it over. “And Colter?”

“I told them he’s no threat,” you murmured. “I talked to him, told him to forget they exist. He agreed as long as you were safe.”

For the first time since this conversation started, you could see Russell start to relax a bit, relief saturating his features. Even a small smile started to light up the tension in his face. While you could understand the feeling, share it even, something about it had you on your feet, walking over to the small refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of water from the six pack you had tossed in there when you booked the room. You held one up in an offer but Russell shook his head. 

“I’m good.”

You shrugged, unsurprised, and twisted off the cap, taking a drink. It made sense that he was still being cautious. Before you knew it, though, he was standing in front of you, that pleading yet determined look in his eyes again. 

“I want to get you out.”

You snorted. “There is no getting out, Russell. Not for me, anyway. Not until they’re done with me.”

He took a step closer and gently took the water bottle from you, placing it on the counter, and grasped your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “There’s always an exit strategy,” he murmured. “I never wanted this for you, Y/N. I only ever wanted to keep you safe. That’s why I left.”

Yeah, you knew that now, too. “I know that now. Why you wouldn’t tell me certain things about your job, but, Jesus, Russell. Did you really think they didn’t already know about me and who I was to you? Colter even? Dory? Your mom?”

He let out a deep sigh and hung his head, letting your chin go. “I know. I… It was a good fit for me at the time, the money was good — that’s why I hooked Doug up with them. But seeing how they hung him out to dry at the first opportunity and now you,” He tenderly ran his thumb along your cheek. “I’m seriously starting to rethink that decision.”

You pulled away from him. “It doesn’t matter. You can’t unring that bell.” You made your way back over to the bed and yanked your duffel bag from underneath it. You unzipped it and began rooting through it to make sure you had everything you needed for a quick getaway. You didn’t think you needed to go anywhere but now this location was blown for you since you had made the decision to let Russell know about it. You had already triple checked your stash when you left it here upon check-in but you needed something to focus on instead of the clear regret in Russell’s face. “And as for me, I made my decision.” You pulled out a gun from a secret compartment, checked the clip to make sure it was full, and slipped it back inside. “I’m good with it. I’ve used it fully to my advantage and I make good money, more than I was ever going to make at the Bureau, even if they fast-tracked me to Deputy Director. Solano was on our Most Wanted List for twenty six days and I took him out in one. Had he possibly gone free, there’s no telling what he would have done, who he would have hurt besides Doug.” You knew exactly what he would have done and who he would have hurt; he’d told you in explicit detail. You didn’t go into it but Russell wasn’t stupid (not when it came to things like this anyway). He most likely knew as well. He’d wanted to close up Solano as a loose end himself after all. “That kind of cleanup I can more than live with.”

Russell carefully approached, his eyes on the second gun you had pulled out and were checking. “I get that and I more than appreciate what you did with Solano. For Doug, for Colter and me.” Once you slipped the weapon back into its pocket, he laid a hand on your shoulder, prompting you to look over at him. “You can’t tell me, though, that this is what you want for your endgame. Not really.”

You shook your head in disbelief. “I don’t have an endgame, Russell. Maybe I did once but you took that the second you walked out the door, acting like everything we’d gone through meant nothing to you, like I meant nothing to you.” 

There was that remorse again and you despised it. “I’m sorry, I…handled that badly,” he admitted.

“Handled it badly?” You laughed in disbelief. You shirked his hand off of you and moved to the night table, yanking the drawer open to rip out the bible sitting in there. You opened it to the area you had cut out to hold emergency cash and cards, just like Russell had taught you once upon a time. “You told me I’d been nothing to you but a fling for the past four years, that you might have loved me once but you didn’t anymore. That I was…how did you put it? A fun distraction.” You slammed the bible shut and tossed it back into the drawer before closing it. You hurried back over to the bag, throwing the funds inside another secret compartment, more than done with this conversation.

“You’re right, I fucked up. I only said those things to—”

“Cut the cord, yeah, I know. Still doesn’t make it right,” you muttered, roughly zipping the duffel back up. 

“I wanted you to be safe. You were digging into them, even after I told you not to! And worse, you were pulling Colter into it!”

That quickly got your attention and you spun on your heel, jabbing a finger in the air at him. “Don’t you fucking dare lay Colter at my feet. Especially after what you just pulled last week. It wasn’t me hauling him into Doug’s case! Not to mention, way before you met me, the minute you took that job, you put everyone you knew on their radar and you know it! So don’t you fucking dare. I have been doing everything I can to make sure Colter is safe and doesn’t pull their attention, poring over every case he takes in the background to ensure they’re not involved or have any vested interests that are. Hell, I even just used a contact of mine to float a case over to Teddi and Velma to get him out of town and far away from here to continue keeping him safe. Me, Russell! Me! And what did you do to keep him safe? You blow back into town and not only put him even more on their radar, you deliver him right to their goddamn doorstep! So don’t you dare even try to put that on me,” you finished in a snarl. 

Shame lurked at the corners of his eyes and you scoffed in disgust, whirling around to grab your jacket from the bed before picking up the duffel bag and slinging the handle over your shoulder. “So glad we had this talk,” you sniped. “Now go have fun with the cheerleading dental hygienist or Reenie,” You could see more shame looking back at you. Unlike the hot tub conquest, Colter had actually told you about that one. You could tell how much it was bothering him and you knew he wouldn’t have mentioned it otherwise, knowing it wasn’t something you really wanted to hear. “Or that bartender you holed up with three weeks after you walked out on me,” Now you could see surprise; you could care less. “Or whoever you want. But me? I’m done. Have a nice life, Russell Shaw, and try not to get killed before you get out to start your little brewery operation. Oh, and try to manage not to get your brother or me killed in the process, yeah? Thanks ever so much. See ya.” 

You were walking towards the door when you were grabbed and whipped around. Before you could react, Russell was on you, his mouth covering yours and his hands gripping your face. “I love you,” he breathed against your lips after breaking away to let you catch your breath. “I’m sorry I said what I did back then but it wasn’t the truth. It took everything I had to walk away but as long as you were safe, that was all that mattered to me. I fucked up and I am sorry. I never stopped loving you, Y/N. Not ever.” 

He wiped at your cheeks and you hadn’t even realized you’d been crying. Shit. Well, that was embarrassing. Even more embarrassing was how much you wanted to believe him. You knew he was telling the truth about why he walked away, how he wanted to keep you safe, but it obviously hadn’t been as difficult for him to move on as it had been for you. “No, you don’t,” you choked out. “If that were true, you would have never walked out that door.” Your voice wobbled on those last few words and you hated it, hated how vulnerable you were being to him right now.

You wiped at your own cheeks and turned around, ignoring the pleading you saw once again in his eyes. 

“Y/N, please,” he ground out.

You kept moving towards the door. As you laid your hand on the door handle to turn it, you were whipped around one more time and he was kissing you yet again, your back pressed up against the wood. Except this time, you finally threw in the towel and gave in to what your damaged heart had been wanting all of this time. You buried your fingers in his hair and kissed him back just as passionately, not caring that more tears rolled down your cheeks as you did. He yanked the duffel bag from you and let it fall into a heap on the floor before lifting you up and turning to carry you over to the bed. You knew this was going to hurt like hell later but you refused to put a stop to it. You’d find a way to numb the pain when it ripped you open a second time, just like you always had. 

The only thought running through your mind as he laid you down and ripped your blouse open, sending buttons flying everywhere, was that you had been right. You knew the bastard had been lying earlier when you’d caught him looking between you and the bed. But right then as he lifted away from you to quickly shed his top layers and then dove back down to kiss you again and melt into you, your fingers greedily relearning every inch of his bare skin, you couldn’t care less.   

You reached your hand over, tenderly running a finger along the edges of the bandage on Russell’s arm. “Does it hurt?” You murmured.

“A little.” He turned his head to smile down at you. “More than worth it, though.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his chuckle at you gently pushing his head away, and turned onto your back. Russell embraced you with his other arm, pulling you into him. You rested your ear against his bare chest, hearing his steady heartbeat and settling your gaze on the ceiling above you. He pressed a kiss to your head, letting his lips linger against your hair, as his thumb rubbed your shoulder back and forth.

After a few minutes of content silence between you, you put voice to the question resounding in your mind. “How did we get here, Russell?”

“Well, you drove us over and then we—”

You softly swatted his chest, making him laugh and hearing the sound reverberate underneath your ear. “You know what I mean.”

“I wish I knew the best way to answer that, “ he whispered to you. You could hear the genuine regret in his tone and it made you start thinking about when you both would have to leave this motel room, and go back to the separate lives you had been living. Memories of lazy mornings like this back when you had been together, of you listening to his voice in your ear and knowing you were safe and loved, replayed in your mind on a loop. You would never admit it to him but you missed this, missed him. Nothing had felt right in the last couple of years like this moment here did. If anything, all of that time felt like some weird drug-induced nightmare, and you had just woken up to find Russell here next to you, nothing having changed. But that wasn’t true; everything had changed.

Not wanting to think about that just yet, you picked up the hand that had been caressing your shoulder and studied the skin of his wrist. “This is new.” You trailed your finger along the design of the tattoo sitting there. “What prompted you to get this one?”

“That’s something Doug and I got one night when we met up with another one of the guys from our unit when he was in town. Tommy Laird. Good man.”

“A crown?”

Russell shrugged underneath you. “Tommy picked the design.”

“‘We three kings’, huh?”

You heard him chuckle. “Never thought of it like that but sure.”

“Is he also a part of Horizon?”

You felt him tense underneath you at the mention of the dark and deadly elephant in the room. “No. He, uh, he lives with his wife and three kids in North Carolina. They have a house in Cary and he went back to the family business when he got home.”

You nodded and pulled his wrist to you, placing your lips on his skin and tenderly kissing the middle of the design before letting him go. He hugged you closer to him and placed a kiss to your ear in turn, letting out what sounded like a contented sigh. 

A moment later, he murmured. “I want to help get you out.”

You nearly rolled your eyes again. You wanted to ask him why he was dead set on thinking that you even wanted out. Perhaps the you he had known would want a way out, want something more out of life than money and secrets and cleanups, but you had changed a lot in the last three years. But you knew if you posed that question, it would shatter the cocoon you currently found yourselves in and you weren’t ready for that to end just yet. So instead, you reminded him of another angle of the truth. “That’s not possible. Not the way you’re thinking. You know that.”

“Anything’s possible.” You nearly smiled at his response; there was the stubborn streak that sometimes infuriated you and sometimes endeared you to him, like right now. But you needed to make sure you maintained a reality check for the both of you. You knew what he was really thinking.

“Even if it was, we can’t.”

His head lifted and he frowned down at you. “Why not?”

“This isn’t some Mr. and Mrs. Smith shit. We don’t get a happy ending,” you finished sadly, thinking back to the life you once shared together as you cupped his cheek and rubbed it gently with your thumb. “Not together. It’s too dangerous.” You left it at that but you knew that he was more than aware of what you meant. 

His frown intensified at your words and he covered your hand with his, turning to place a kiss into your palm. “We’ll work it out.”

“Russ,” you sighed.

He gently grasped your chin between his thumb and forefinger, looking into your eyes. “We’ll work it out,” he softly repeated, that glint of determination back in his gaze. 

You decided once more that you wouldn’t bother launching into the many reasons it actually wouldn’t work out and you would refrain from popping that bubble he had just wrapped you both in. That moment would come later. But for now, you continued to keep silent.

When he noticed you weren’t going to say anything, a mischievous smile began to form on that handsome face you loved. “You know, I don’t really have anything planned for today. How about you?”

Other than some paperwork you had to go over later, your day was pretty much free, too. Even if it hadn’t been, you knew that look and after this morning, despite still having some unresolved anger with him, despite things that still needed to be said between you, you would have freed up your schedule immediately. “I don’t think I’ll be missed for a while,” you teased.

He leaned in to kiss you, whispering to your lips, “Oh, you were missed. Very much fucking missed.” The impishness you had heard a moment before was now absent but he never gave you a chance to respond. Instead, he kissed you deeply and began moving to cover your body with his once again. He maneuvered himself in between your thighs, your legs automatically coming up to gently cradle his hips. “Your arm,” you broke away to warn him.

“Don’t care.” He lowered down to keep kissing you and surprisingly (or unsurprisingly perhaps), all was right in the world right then. You didn’t allow yourself to get swept away by it or by the fantasy of something that would never be. Sadly, the time for you and Russell to be together had come and gone. You’d had your chance and you both had blown it, with him starting you out of the gate. This right here, this was all that was left — like embers of a dying fire. You would always love him, you knew that (truthfully, you had always known it), but this was all you would ever have. Once you both walked out that door, you would be walking in separate directions, taking different paths in your lives, no matter what Russell would say. 

But for right now, you allowed yourself to live in the moment, to enjoy it as he groaned into your mouth when your hand helped guide him to where you both wanted him to be. You held onto him as he began a slow movement within you, knowing you would need to take over again very soon when his left arm began to tremble. But until then you kept him close to you, drank deeply of him, and reveled in what the two of you had always managed to create together, content to keep Horizon and the rest of the world on the other side of the motel room door, if only for a moment longer. 

A/N: I know I left some things open and unresolved. I wanted to do that to let this be a gateway to the continuing story in the short series coming titled "Closer".

Please let me know what you think. 😊

[captainlunaxmen]

All for the Cameras

Chapter 9

Finnick Odair x fem!reader

Hello! I'm sorry it takes me this long to write each chapter, but I have so many ideas for so many fics, and also, I don't want to fuck this one up😅

Let me know what you think, especially now that we're entering Mockingjay pt1, I would appreciate some feedback, so I can get better and better.♥️♥️♥️

Chapter summary: time to face the consequences. But that doesn't mean the fight is over.

Chapter warnings: violence, torture, guilt, implied rape, non-consensual touching, Cal, Finnick being a sweetie pie.

Tag list:

@guacam011y @justtrying2getby @idontevenknow1359 @alexandra-001 @bambikitten @maggiecc @redh00dsbf @haneybunny @1-800-styles @sisiking99 @merromimo @yourdailymemedelivery @regsg18 @gordorio @bambikitten @gracieeleanorr @shev3nom @honethatty12 @savingprivatecass @erindiggory @martahabla @sterredem @aawdrea @wpdarlingpan @strawberry--fawn @barbarathewanderer @ih8books @a-mysterious-potato @mayonesavegana @celinaiscrying @katherinejess @meri-soni-meri-tamanna @abaker74 @syd649 @meikoo @secretsicanthideanymore @p1stachi @laylasshiftingtonight @yourmumstoy @s0urw00lf @kermits-bitch @littleshadow17 @piya-re

I'm sorry if I can't tag everyone😔🥺

Y/n's Pov

My mind can't register nothing but pain.

In my head.

In my chest.

Everywhere.

All I can feel is pain.

I can vaguely hear voices around me, but I can't make out what they are saying.

I'm tied down on a table, lights prevent me from seeing more of the room. I try my best to move, but I can't, I can't move an inch and breathing gets harder.

Suddenly the pain is gone. I immediately try to catch my breath and I try to also understand where I am exactly.

"The pain you feel right now is nothing compared to what I felt when I found out about your betrayal."

My chest tightens even more when I hear Cal's voice.

"Do you have any idea what that felt like?" He comes into my line of sight, I can clearly see his anger, jaw clenching as he leans over me, "you hurt me, princess."

"You... you... hurt me... f-first..." I stutter out, my throat hurts badly.

"Me?" He scoffs, "I hurt you first? Princess, do you hear yourself? I gave you everything."

I want to scoff, want to throw everything I've hold back all these years, but I'm too weak.

"You..."

"Shut up!" He screams right at my face.

"General." A voice calls from what I assume is the door.

Cal immediately stands straight, hard look on his face as he steps back.

"President Snow." Cal nods his head.

"Leave us, general." Snow orders.

"Yes, sir." Cal nods and looks down at me, "I will see you soon."

I look up at the ceiling, focusing on calming my heart and breathing.

"You know, miss L/n," he starts speaking as he walks closer, "I have to give it to you, you did fool me. I did thought you were finally realising what being in the Capitol means. What these games mean."

I dare look at him once he's close enough. He has a smirk on his face.

"And you believed me?" I ask with the voice I have left.

"I did, and for that I owe you my respect. If only you were this good at lying before I had to kill your brother... such a shame." He sighs, "I remember that day too, miss L/n, I remember the hatred in your eyes, how easily I could read you, your thoughts and your intentions. You wanted to die, didn't you?"

"Better... than this..." I mutter.

"Oh, yes, I know. But you made a mistake." He states, it's almost like he's teaching to a class, "do you know what mistake?"

I gulp and take a breath to answer.

"I... I cared..." I answer weakly.

"Exactly." He nods, "you started to care not only about the tributes you were assigned to, but the mentors... and the tributes you weren't supposed to help." My eyes shot to his face, "I have to say you also got better at hiding that, for a good while I thought you stopped. This will be no comfort to you, I'm sure, but I am very proud of you, my dear."

"An insult..." I grit out.

"Of course. Oh and let's not forget the threats you had to invent... wonderful ideas, absolutely wonderful. With that you convinced me, I have to admit. Ideas worthy of the Capitol." He says this knowing I feel guilty, knowing that I hated being part of the games.

"Just kill me already." I breath out.

"Kill you? My dear girl, how could I? I would never kill Capitol's Princess, no, no." He chuckles.

"Then what? Torture me until I don't know who I am anymore?" I try to raise my voice a little, but the pain in my chest makes it hard.

"No, that's for Mr. Mellark to find out. " He casually say and I open my mouth to say something but he cuts me off, "no, you will be always aware of what's going on. And whatever mistake you make, they will pay."

"No..."

"You see, miss L/n, you might think you got so good at lying that I wouldn't know you anymore. But I do. And I know the worst torture for you is not pain, even though that will come too of course, no, it's hearing your loved ones in pain and not being able to help them." He looks proudly at me, satisfied with my terrified reaction, "or better... knowing you are the reason they're screaming."

He then looks beyond me, to someone, nod his head and in that moment screaming fills my ears. My eye widen recognising the voice.

"No... no..."

"It's Mr. Mellark first session, thought you wanted to assist." He says, I pull at the restraints, but they're too hard and I'm too weak, "know that the pain he's feeling right now is sponsored by you, miss L/n."

After that he walks away, I scream at him all the insults that come to mind, but the exhaustion is kicking in.

Peeta screams and screams and screams, I can't imagine what they're doing to him, what he's thinking...

It's all my fault...

My fault.

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

Finnick's Pov

All Finnick can do now is make knots, knots, and knots. The only thing to try and keep his mind busy... but it's no use.

All his thoughts are consumed by guilt as he sits on the hospital bed in 13. He doesn't deserve it. He keeps repeating to himself. He should've gone back.

"Finnick." Katniss suddenly calls.

"I wanted to go back for Peeta and Johanna... but I, uh...I... I couldn't move." He dares look at Katniss. He can't read her expression, and he doesn't even want to. He sighs, "they have Y/n, too. They took her." He notices her expression softening, knowing the two girls were slowly developing a friendship, "she's, uh... she's in the Capitol." Then a horrible thought makes its way into his mind, "I wish she was dead. I wish they were dead and we were too."

Does he actually want it? He knows what the Capitol is capable of, and he knows that death would be more merciful. He can't even imagine what they're doing to his friends right now, how they're torturing them.

Death sounds so much more appealing.

Y/n's Pov.

The fetal position doesn't offer that much comfort as people say. The cold floor makes sure of it. I don't know how long they kept me tied up to that table, how long they forced me to hear they screams.

The doors opening get my attention and I immediately sit up and move closer to the wall. I hear the cell's door next to mine opening and closing. Then footsteps exiting the room.

"Y/n?" Peeta's weak and tired voice calls me.

"P-Peeta..." I move to the bars, along the wall we share, "Peeta, I'm so sorry..."

"Don't..." he groans, I can hear he's getting closer too, "don't blame yourself. It's... not your fault."

"I feel like it is... If I..."

"No," he cuts me off, "don't go down there. Don't blame yourself."

"What... what did they do to you?" I ask, hesitantly.

"I don't think thay will do you any good." He says, even in this situation he tries to look out for others.

"Please..." I whisper.

"Electrocuting." He sighs.

"Peeta..."

"Not your fault." He firmly says. "What about you?"

I sigh, still feeling my head throbbing.

"Same, and in the meantime they made me... listen to you."

"Oh..."

"You have to be stronger then them," I tell him.

"What... what do you mean?"

"Don't let them change you. They know it's your fear... Don't let them." I instruct, "Whatever they're going to do to you, whatever they're going to tell you, it's not real."

"I... I'll try." He says, his tone is scared and unsure. I wish I could do more, I wish I could take that pain from him.

"You have to."

An angry scream interrupts us and suddenly the doors are open again.

"Fucking assholes! Let me fucking go!"

I can see Johanna's being thrown into the cell in front of ours and the guards immediately leave without a word.

"Fuck!" She screams hitting her hands on the ground.

"Johanna..?" I call.

"Y/n! I thought they killed you!" She exclaims.

"That would've been too kind."

"You're right. Torturing people is more like their style." She agrees.

"What's their plan?" Peeta asks, a little hesitant, "I mean, what use could we be?"

"To convince the Capitol." I say.

"What do you mean?" Johanna asks.

"The Capitol loved Katniss and Snow wants to discredit her, he needs to." I explain, "he needs to convince the Capitol Katniss is the villain... or... convince them she was a victim too."

"Why would he do that?" Peeta's confused.

"Because it could use this to convince the districts too. If the districts believe she never wanted a revolution, if they believe she's only wants everything to go back to normal, they won't raise against the Capitol. They won't have a leader anymore. He could still control them."

"Why would they believe it?" She asks again.

"They managed to convince everyone of all sort of thing in the past few years, I wouldn't be surprised." I say.

"Right... and where do we fit in this plan?"

"Make us say what they want."

"How?" Johanna spats.

"Don't underestimate them." I glare, "don't think they don't have the means to get you to do what they need you to. And trust they will do whatever they can. And the Capitol can do a lot. You should know."

"Fuck. Fuck!" Johanna punches the wall, frustrated.

"No need to hurt yourself now, Johanna. Don't steal all the fun." I sarcastically tell her.

"So much fun, indeed." She agrees, "fuck! We better be dead."

"I wish... I wish." I breath out, I notice Peeta has been quiet for a while, "Peeta? Are you okay?"

"Yeah... I mean, no. Sorry, I..." he sighs, I can tell he's holding back tears, "I guess I'm scared."

"I know, I am too."

I hold out a hand between the bars, hoping he would see it and take it, thankfully he does, it's not the most comfortable position, but it gives us some comfort, I wish I could do the same with Johanna. I look at her and she sadly smiles and nods her head.

"It's okay." She whispers.

The doors suddenly open, harshly. Automatically we all move to the walls, to somwhow hide, knowing full well ot would be no use.

Then Cal gets in front on my cell, and my chest tightens again at the sight.

"Stand." He orders as he open the door.

I'm apparently taking too much time so he enters and yanks me up.

"Hey! Leave her alone!" Johanna yells and hits the bars.

"It's okay..." I tell her, and Cal drags me out.

"You shut up," he says to Johanna, "unless you want another session."

"I'm okay, don't worry ab-"

"Shut up. Walk." Cal orders me.

No other choice but to walk.

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

Cal drags me all the way to a long corridor until we reach a room, in which he, not so kindly, push me.

The room is small, there's only a table and two chairs, it looks like an interrogation room or something. But what scares me the most is being alone in such a tiny space with Cal.

"We need to talk." He states, closing the door behind him. "Sit."

I do as he says, my eyes on him in case he wants to try something... not that I could be able to do anything about it, but it's little comfort... little.

"Why?" He simply asks.

"Uh?" I'm a little taken aback by the question.

"Why you? Why did they had to corrupt you?" He asks.

"Corrupt me..? What... what do you mean?" I'm just as confused.

"Why would you risk everything for them? It doesn't make sense to me." He says, sitting down in front of me, he tries to take my hands but I move them out of the way.

"Everything? What everything?"

"Your life, our life together. "

"You... are you serious?" I can't help the anger raising.

"We were so happy together, we want-"

"You were." I cut him off, "you were happy, I was miserable. Your father paid me to be with you, then you kept on paying me. You forced me to. Snow forced me to. You and any other person in the Capitol."

"I gave you everything." He grits out.

"Gave me every- what the fuck are you referring to? The clothes? The jewellery? Or the bruises? Maybe the nightmares" I spit back.

"I love you." He says.

"No you don't." I'm exasperated now, "you don't. I don't know what you think you love, but it's not me."

"Don't you ever tell me what I feel. I know damn well." He stands up, and come closer.

Once he's too close I get up too, to get as far as the small room allows me to.

"You have no idea what love is." I tell him.

"And you do?" He scoffs, "don't tell me..." He stops for a moment, considering me, "was I right all this time?"

"About what?"

"Odair." He simply says and I instinctively look away from him, "I was right!"

He quickly corners me into the wall, hand around my neck and the other grabs my wrist tightly as I try to push him off.

"Cal..."

"Remember this: you are mine. Mine. We will get married soon, the people will see you as a victim of this mess, and once I get my hands on him... I will kill you and you will watch." He threatens.

"No..."

"Yes, now, if you don't mind I missed our time together... I plan on making up for lost time." He whispers, face getting closer to mine.

It's when I feel his lips on mine that I start to push and turn around, but he's too strong for me... all I can do is let him.

Finnick's Pov

Finnick's been sitting all day, he doesn't even want to eat or sleep, he only does because he knows Y/n would scold him for it.

The door opening catches his attention, and relaxes a little seeing Haymitch walking in.

"Mr. Odair." Haymitch nods and stands in front of him, "how do we feel today?"

"Maybe better than you." Finnick answers, "How's rehab doing?"

"It could be better... I have to admit." He replies, tone's heavy.

"I have to ask..." Finnick starts.

"She was supposed to be at the rooftop with me, we waited, we did wait... until we couldn't anymore." Haymitch starts to explain, guilty visible in his expression and talking, "I kept my eyes open the whole time just to catch a glimpse of her, but I'm afraid the peacekeepers were already at her apartment." He sighs, "I'm sorry."

"I don't think she would like you blaming yourself." Finnick tries to joke, tears in his eyes.

"Oh, I know." Haymitch sadly smiles, "we'll get them all back."

"Really?" Finnick doesn't want to hold his hopes up, but if there's even the smallest chance of seeing her again, he would grab it.

"I owe her." Haymitch mutters more to himself than to Finnick.

Finnick wants to ask him how he thinks they're alive, but suddenly, the Capitol theme starts, and the Capitol symbol appears on the TV in the room.

"What's this now?" Haymitch groans.

"Hello. Good evening." Ceaser face appears as he greets the audience, "and a big welcome to all in Panem. I'm Ceasar Flickerman. And whoever you are, whatever it is you're doing... if you're working, out down your work. If you're having dinner, stop having dinner. Because you are going to want to witness this tonight."

"What do you think they're doing?" Finnick asks.

"No clue." Haymitch replies, eyes focused on the TV.

"There has been rampant speculation about what really happened in the Quartel Quell. And here to shed a little light on the subject for us is a very special guest. Please welcome Mr. Peeta Mellark."

"What the fuck...?" Haymitch scoffs.

"He looks well..." Finnick comments.

"Yeah, you know better than anyone how good the Capitol is too hide all sort of bruise." Haymitch says.

They pay attention to what Peeta's saying, he explains what happened, how he lost Katniss before the end.

"What do they want to do?" Finnick's confused to see Peeta like this.

"I don't know... maybe they want to destroy Katniss' image of leader...I don't know." Haymitch mutters, "or maybe Snow wants to destabilise her."

They fall silent again seeing Peeta referring to the camera.

"I want everyone who's watching to stop and to think about what a civil war could mean. We almost went extinct once before. And now our numbers are even fewer. Is this really what we wanna do? Kill ourselves off? Killing is not the answer. Everyone needs to lay down their weapons immediately. Or else that's it. For all of us."

"Peeta... are you calling for a cease-fire?" Ceaser checks.

"Yeah. I am. I want everyone to stop the senseless violence. This is not the path to change." Peeta agrees.

"What..." Finnick starts, alarmed, "what are they doing to them?"

"I don't even want to imagine." Haymitch groans.

"Now. Ladies and gentlemen... a special surprise." Ceaser begin to speak again, "you love her, she's part of everyone's family and now she's been entwined in today's speculations, but such misunderstanding will be easily wiped off once she gets to say her side. Please welcome our Princess, Y/n L/n!" He announces.

"What?" Finnicks stands immediately getting closer to the screen.

"Hello, Ceasar, long time no see." She brightly smiles at the host.

"Indeed, my dear." Ceaser takes her hand and kiss the back of it, "it's so nice to have you back here. Unfortunately, we're not here for our usual chat, are we?"

"No..." she says, sadly. Finnick gets even close to the screen so he can notice any detail possible. "But I think I can make some clearance on this whole situation, if you'll allow me of course."

"Look." Finnick tells Haymitch pointing at Y/n's hands, "look at her fidgeting."

"She's nervous... what about it?" Haymitch asks, getting close too.

"Look at it." Finnick repeats.

Haymitch then focuses on her hands, she's wearing rings and she is turning them left and right.

"There's a scheme." Haymitch breaths out, "she's sending a message."

"Yes, she is!" Finnick can't help but exclaim, "she is! My brave girl."

"You know that if they find it they will kill her." Haymitch warns.

"I know... she does too." Finnick goes back at looking at her face, she doesn't show any emotion except the ones she uses to fool the Capitol.

"I have to tell Plutarch." Haymitch walks out.

"As you could hear, all a misunderstanding." Ceaser announces, "It's great, let me tell you, you would've broken my heart."

"I could never!" Y/n fakes pity, "you're my favourite person!"

"Hear that! I'm her favourite person!" He laughs and takes her hands, "let's not make your future husband jealous now" he winks.

Finnick notices Y/n slightly tensing, he notices because he knows her, everyone else wouldn't blink an eye at that.

"Oh he knows he can't top you." She winks back.

"Now you flatter me, my ego is too big without all these praises." He smiles, "Alright, people of Panem, it's all for today. Have all a good day and stay tuned for more news!"

And with that the TV turns off.

"You're still fighting..." Finnick mutters by himself, relieved by seeing her on screen, "my brave girl."

[hello-im-not-a-possum]

Writing in tags got a ball rolling and I'm thinking more and more about full ghost/bitter babysitter Vlad

Thinking about how Jazz and Danny grew up with ghost hunters as parents and a ghost as an uncle, the types of wrenches it throws into the family's relationships with each other...

Starting with the parents' perspective,

It's easy in the beginning to dismiss the paradoxical nature of ghost hunters having a ghost live with them, The Ghostbusters had Slimer, Fentonworks has V-Man. At the start, their tiny children can see and understand the difference between their friendly uncle Vlad (who at the start, looked like a pathetic wet kitten) and a 'real' dangerous ghost.

It's less easy when you and your old friend wind up in an arms race driven and perpetuated by both rational and irrational fear.

At the start when he looked human and his grudge was apparent but it was shown when he was passive-aggressively doing chores around the house and getting the kids ready for school, it was funny, guilt-trippy, sure, but also helpful. Now that the kids are teenagers and can do their own share of the chores and get themselves ready for school that grudge needs other ways to manifest and he can't break inventions and loom ominously on their bedroom ceiling forever.

"We're not *just* ghost hunters, there's more to our studies than dissection and having Vladdie around makes those other studies easier."

With time, turns into...

"Well, how would we know if our anti ghost forcefields and other ghost proofing gadgets work or not if we didn't have a ghost to test them on?"

With more time, turns into...

"This is the Fenton Ecto-Vaporizer, it turns every ghost caught in its rays into nothing but steam! Well, every ghost except the pesky patient because it grew immune to Blood Blossoms and effect amplifying serums 🙄"

And for the most part 'the ghost haunting our home for decades is immune to our shock collar and we need to make something stronger or he'll rip our spines out of our bodies and wear our skins like coats' is said in jest,

at the end of the day,

during those nights that SHOULD be silent but their guilty consciences make the whispers at the end of the bed recounting the day they not only killed, but dumped their best friend like garbage and fled the state that much louder as the bright red eyes of the vengeful spirit become their unwelcome night light...

They have to ask themselves will he kill them before or after the kids go to college?

From the kids' perspective... where do I even start?

Okay, good news is that they had a good tradeoff with a better childhood, I mean for starters their Christmases were a lot less nasty with Uncle Vlad and I strongly suspect that Little Danny's favorite Christmas story of all time was 'A Christmas Carol' as he'd love the christmas ghosts thanks to knowing his own 'christmas ghosts'.

And both kids grow up knowing that ghosts CAN be good people, they see their uncle lose his outer humanity over the years while they grow up and come to understand that just because a ghost can *look* mean and scary doesn't mean that they *are* mean.

Danny would likely have more 'tools' in his belt other than fighting. Sure, fighting's on the table if need be, but when it comes to different ghosts and their different issues, he'd likely stop and ask himself "Is this ghost who's screaming about a dance in need of a butt-kicking, or is she in need of some help?"

but as teenagers who can see that their family situation is NOT normal...

Jazz knows that there's more to Vlad's tragic story than 'I was really sick and your parents didn't visit me in the hospital :C'. She also knows he's not telling her.

Granted, nobody's really comfortable telling the girl one raised to adulthood that their parents murdered and abandoned them without a second thought,

But the whimsy and charm of 'oh look my uncle's a ghost' is lost when 1. you're not a kid anymore. and 2. getting him to be emotionally honest and upfront with you about his past is like pulling teeth.

Does Danny go to any of the adults when the accident happens? CAN he go to any of the adults when the accident happens?

It's established how he hates the idea of his parents getting a divorce, of losing his family, and at this point in time despite their attempts to hide it in front of him and Jazz, he can pick up that Vlad is not happy with or around his parents who in turn appear more and more uncomfortable with their old friend.

He knows that his mom and dad can put up with ghosts if they absolutely need to, but how will they take knowing that HE'S a ghost?

And how will Uncle Vlad himself take it?

He can trust him to teach him everything he knows about being a ghost, but at the same time, he's grown up watching Vlad destroy any and all inventions his parents make that seem too dangerous to them, so what would he do to his parents if he knew that 'their negligence killed him'?

[liyawritesss]

ᴅʏɪɴɢ ɢᴇᴋᴋᴏ'ꜱ ʜᴀɪʀ

-> synopsis: gekko's first holiday from being a Valorant Agent has come!upon debriefing with the others, it's accidentally revealed that his favorite hairdresser may be something more...

-> a/n: it is unhealthy how rampant this boy has been on my mind. like, genuinely, he's such a beautiful person and so so sweet, someone help me find where I can buy one !! also i know this isn't really in demand or wtv, but mateo is still my husband and I'll write for him until I physically can't anymore.

-> pairing: mateo armendariz de la fuente // gekko + black!gn!reader

-> join my taglist!

-> contains: pure fluff, like one or two curse words, 2nd person ('you', 'your', 'yours')

-> tags: @badass-dora-milaje @uranometrias @lees-chaotic-brain @jacuzziwaters

• Whenever a holiday is granted in the Protocol, not one person dares to pass it up. It's very rare that they team gets the opportunity to return home and enjoy themselves as human beings. Phoenix heads back to his flat in London for the time being, Raze takes Killjoy to her home in Brazil, Jett and Yoru take a trip to Japan for some well deserved restaurant hopping. While Gekko may not be buddying up with anyone on his holiday home, the agents all know that he's got a particular someone he's going home to.

• Gekko often mentions the hairdresser that does his hair whenever he's back home. He started mentioning them so often, and with so much vigor, admiration and excitement, it didn't take long for some agents catch on that this wasnt just a simple hairdresser (namely Yoru, who could read people like a book, and Sage, who was the first to verbally note the way his eyes lit up when looking on his phone for a text with the person in question, which was often brushed off by the you get as a simple exchange of inspo ideas for his next hairdye job).

• So, safe to say that second he gets the OK, Gekko is speedballing his way back to Cali to see you and catch up on the months apart. He does tell you about his newfound occupation, although he keeps it vague for privacy and protection reasons - despite him not supposed to tell anyone about it in general. He just can't lie to you. You've been with him from the start of this journey after all, and it wouldn't feel right to him to not share this double life he now has with you.

• He lets you know when he touches down, but prepares a bit of a surprise for you for when he pops up on you. Alongside a bag of the necessary gair dying products he's also got a basket of snacks and other little knick knacks he knows you like. It acts as an apology for both being away for so long and that he hasn't kept up with his hair maintenance. He just likes it better when you do it!

• Definitely falls asleep the second your hands get in his head. You could just be raking through the buzzcut or washing him or blow drying him, he knocks out like a light from your touch. You definitely have to wake him up a couple of times throughout the session, because he can and will sleep until the end of it when he doesn't feel your hands anymore.

• Gekko usually let's you do anything you want to do in his head unless he has a specific color request he's been dying to try out. Which leads to a lot of fun designs - including red hearts, varying colored flowers, stars, a variety of prints, and more. He's always amazed at the creativity you have when it comes to trying new things in his hair and he's always down for whatever. He wears them proudly and takes so many pictures of his new dye any chance it seems photogenic.

• Speaking of pictures, Gekko is the type to like those "private but not secret" pictures - he thinks the aesthetic of it is cute and often wants to take them with you. His favorite pose is with a close up on the back of his head with your hands combing through his short hair. Not only does it feel good, but it assures that possessive itch in his brain that whispers "this is mine, but you'll never know c;". Wingman or Dizzy may photobomb a couple of them in good fun - all of Gekko's lil' homies love to see you two happy together!

• Departing back to base is always hard on the both of you. Though you know that ultimately he's safe and with people who will protect him, the miles between you two makes the longing more difficult and seeing him off never gets any easier. He tries to reassure you despite he himself hating having to leave you, giving you promises of a longer visit next time and more stories about his wildest adventures.

• It's usual for the agents - especially the younger ones - to debrief about their holidays when they all return to base. Wild stories and loud laughter echoes throught the common hall as everyone recounts the good times they had. When it's Gekko's turn, he's all too eager to show the pictures of the different styles he's gotten in his time away. Neon's got heart-eyes at all the crazy and intricate designs and Phoenix is trying to bribe the poor boy to give him the number to his stylist, and in the midst of it all, Gekko accidentally swipes too far and what the rest of the agents see makes them go absolutely ballistic.

• Gekko, the cool, suave young agent who can sling a gun with more swagger than an action movie actor, always hyping up his friends and encouraging team work all while being so effortlessly carefree and a total vibe, has a partner! And of course, it shouldn't be that shocking - he's the whole package and the freebies that come with! - but to have it confirmed by the man himself, even if it was on accident, has the other agents on another plane of excitement and intrigue.

• He's bombarded with questions - who are you? Are you the mysterious hairdresser they've heard so much about? How'd you meet? How long have you been together? The list goes on and on and he's just standing there like "shit, how do I get out of this?" He's so flustered at the prospect of talking about you to his friends he can't even get a word out. The commotion brings in the older agents because they're like 'why is it so loud and of course the person to speak loud as hell is Phoenix as he says "My man Gekko's got a secrer little girlfriend back home!" (It's definitely not a secret anymore Phoenix-)

• So safe to say that when he calls you that night, he's got a lot to tell you about how his fellow agents found out about his life outside of the Protocol, and how a bunch of them now want to meet the pretty lady that does the fancy designs on his hair <3

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

[tuliptired]

hi! could you write anymore little looks at a humanities ta!reader x egon in college?

Do Wah Diddy Diddy

Pairing: Egon Spengler/Gn!Ta!Reader

Warnings: Reader is drunk for most of it

The egon/reader tag is so barren ;( Why nobody else dressed like a slut tonight?

INSANELY better formatting on Ao3!

 Egon left his lab, surprisingly, stressed. His major didn´t often stretch him too thin, he knew what he was doing and how to do it best, but it was just that time of year. Lots of work, and not a lot of time to do it. He always managed, with lots of coffee and little sleep, it was just a fact of academia.

The outside world reflected the inside ecosystem of his fellow students, buzzing with life and blazingly hot. Plagued by the heated air trying to cling to the classroom, you cracked a few windows open as you taught in place of the absent professor. This wasn't out of the ordinary- the man trusted you enough to run a class, and you ran it like a natural, admittedly. But today was a little strained, your daily seminar not getting to the level of intensity it usually did. Egon would’ve made a comment on it as he got the last word in, but he decided against it. While you were a TA, there was more emphasis on the “A” in times like these, evident in how you scoured through notes for other classes when you had a spare minute.

They worked independently, before you lifted your head out of a notebook, one of many fans blowing some of your hair off of your forehead. You glanced at the clock, before quickly setting up a projector and unboxing a handful of identical, thick books.

“Big assignment,” you started, a few complaints sounding from the students, “it wasn’t even me this time, blame Mr. Coulms.” 

He left the lecture room in a worse mood than he entered it, the thick tome under his arm. A play. He was a great reader- he could read each edition of Tobin's Spirit guide cover to cover in an hour if he was looking to cite something. Scientific journals were light entertainment to him. But plays? You actually had to dissect a play. To dissect it, you had to read it- well. 

He leaned against a bookcase, in the not-leaning-but-leaning way that he does, so as not to disturb the books. He would be searching for something like Ray was, crouched on the ground and investigating the bottom shelf, but he wasn’t in the mood, glaring at the text he was given before placing it on an empty shelf beside him. 

They were tucked away in the basement of the Public Library- it was one of the few places that they could ask for books about harnessing pure protonic energy and campfire stories of the 30’s without being looked at weird. Peter messed with the straps of his bag, ready to go and saying so for the 3rd time.

“In a minute, Peter.” Ray placed a few books next to him, searching for the right one that happened to be inconveniently smaller than the one’s surrounding it. He looked up at Egon sympathetically. 

“I’m sorry, Spengs. But I did this one in high school, and it was a lot of fun!” His optimism was cut short as the rest of the books along the wood fall towards the middle like dominos. 

“It won’t be hard, Egon. Do the voices.’ Peter procured a rubix cube from his bag. Egon seriously didn’t know why he carried it around, as it was never once solved.

Ray fumbled with the books as he tried to Dewey-Decimal their placements in his head. “I’ll help. Just, uh…” He looked around at the mess he made. “Can you look around for ‘Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian’? We’re gonna need it, too.” Egon only nodded, eager to clear his head a bit. He remembered the author well enough, weaving through aisles to find the proper section. 

He didn’t make it far, there was a reshelving cart in his way, his feet coming to a halt. As he looked up from the roller, you were standing there, hands on your hips. 

“Doesn’t look like you’re studying very hard.”

He sighed a puff of air out his nose, as you peered over his shoulder. You saw two men on the ground, grabbing handfuls of discarded books. “And your friends are messing up my hard work.”

He glanced back at the men, then back at you. “Is there anywhere you don’t work?” He didn’t intend to be in a confrontational mood this afternoon, but a bad class will do that to you.

You pointed to a pin on your chest, which read your name in small print under ‘BOOKKEEPER’.

 “Nope. How many people do you know have a gold plated name tag?”

“Waste collectors and prison guards.”

“Did you need a book? Because you’re in the library?”

He had his hands resting on the handle of the cart, not noticing until you dragged it to the side, taking away the partition between you. “Ghastly Apparitions of the Appalachian by Gregory Lederer.” He expected you to not know what he was talking about, and stand there dumbfounded. But you pushed past him, making your way to the “L” aisle of the General Knowledge section.

Your eyes scanned the spines of various options. “I don’t remember this play taking place in Appalachia,” you moved on to the next row. He followed you like a dog, unsure of what to do while you helped him.

“It’s personal. Scientific.” 

“The title’s a little oxymoronic, then, no?” You finally found it, examining the covers quizzically.

As he reached out for the book, you pulled your hand back. Egon wanted to be annoyed, but it wasn’t in him.

“Actually read the play. Do the voices.” Your own voice had the tone of someone trying to reason with a child. He reached his hand out, again, and you placed the book into his palm, conceding. 

Though you had a modest smile, Egon couldn’t help notice your tired look, under eyes darkening despite your efforts otherwise. He could understand, this was a hard time for everyone, no matter their field. Before he could show you his commiseration, against his better judgment, you let the book go limp in his grasp, passing by him with a small “see you, Mr. Spengler”.

Peter appeared in his line of sight amongst the maze of shelves, as Egon stood dumbly. A voice told him to “clean up my basement” as he passed by.

“It appears we’re not wanted here. Let’s go, Egon.”

When it was officially late, you sat in your dorm, finally having time to sit and work. You had to skip a proper lunch, mindlessly putting a baby carrot in your mouth every 10 minutes as you snuck a binder under your desk at the Public Library. By the time you were on your bed, feverishly taking notes, checking notes, and reading notes, you were barely halfway done with your studying itinerary. This week was sufficiently kicking your butt, to say the least.

The door opened and shut, revealing your roommate, Christine, setting her bag down on the chair nearby. You barely verbally acknowledged her, looking for a specific page in your textbook. She gave you a once over, before making her way to the fridge, but unable to stop taking you in. 

“Did you hear what I said?” Christine asked you, skeptical.

“Don’t think so-” Page 392.

She poured herself a glass of something, eyeing you as she did. “I said, you need to relax a bit.”

That was easy for her to say. As much as you appreciated her and her companionship, all Christine did was relax. Still, your flow was disturbed, and you reluctantly put your materials down.

She continued now that she had your attention. “You don’t hang out anymore. It’s Friday.” She crosses to stand in front of your spot on the bed, effectively tapping you in the conversation.

“There’s some guys in my advertising class throwing-” You can tell what’s coming next, and you shimmy past her as she exclaims in protest.  

“Come on,” she follows you around, nearly pleading with you. You sighed, stopping as she leaned up behind you. It wasn’t that you didn’t like fun, or being with friends- parties just stopped being your scene a few semesters ago. How’s that for maturity?

“I’m telling you like I’ve told you a million times before. That’s just not my domain.” Christine spun you around, intent on not giving up until you caved.

“You guys always get drunk, then you get pissed, then I’m dragging you home and helping you puke it all up.” She rolled her eyes.

“We’ll only have a little- and,” she pointed an accusatory finger to your chest, “to be fair, you wouldn’t have to do all that if you drank a little yourself.”

You pointed the same finger back at her. “So we can all puke together? What a fun night.”

Christine made the sign of the cross then, pointed her fingers to the sky virtuously. “I swear on my life; we’ll know when to stop.” When she opened her eyes, you still weren’t convinced.

“Pleeeease? If it’s lame, we’ll leave and rent a video and get a pizza. But you might have fun.” She looked at you with those big blue eyes, and it took all of your strength to resist. She pleaded with you again, until you finally broke, covering your ears.

You groaned dramatically. “Alright, fine, fine. I’ll go to your stupid frat party and get smashed on cheap beer.” Christine cheered, making her way over to the phone. 

“I’ll call Dean and Lisa and-” you flopped back onto your bed. Staring at your long forgotten work, you wondered if this was the right choice. 

Egon read the line, waiting patiently for Ray to respond from the copy he borrowed himself, as the man read for all other 11 characters of the play. It was about two rulers from warring countries forced to live together in a dungeon, but he just couldn’t grasp what was so special about that. It was late into the night, the dorm only illuminated by a few lamps and the little bit of light pouring in from under the door. After hours of trying to evade it, both men had only made a small dent in the long drama.

Ray pushed his reading glasses up. “You need more conviction, Egon, I don’t feel like your wife right now.” Egon closed his copy, putting his forehead in his hand against his desk.

“I don’t think this is working.”

“Are you doing improv? ‘Of course it’s not working, you-”

“No, Raymond. This book isn’t working.” Egon slid it away from him, the bright red cover hurting his eyes, and his pride.

Ray looked sad for his friend, taking off his glasses. “The only way to do it is to read. I’m sorry.” He tossed his book onto his bed. “But we can take a break. Whaddya wanna do?”

Egon remembered it was Friday, the day most young adults would use to unwind. He reached into the drawer beneath him, emerging with a miniature Tesla coil Ray had fashioned.

“You read my mind, Spenges!”

The two men were engrossed with messing around with it, placing numerous objects on and around the transformer- granted that any other flammable or conducive thing they owned was moved out of the way. As Ray teased the sparks with a pencil, he suddenly recalled something, eyes flashing and wide as he dropped the writing utensil.

“Peter has my car!” He grabbed each side of his head, almost comically as he could picture it- a nice, clean Camaro being trashed by beer and bodily fluids.

Ray was just short of spiraling, stuck on either racing down to the party himself or bawling in the spinny chair. “I’d go there myself- and strangle the life out of him,” he nearly wept, covering his eyes.

Egon let his eyes shut, before willinging himself to his feet. He’d never, ever associate with any sort of party, let alone one at a fraternity. But Ray loved that car, his dad’s graduation gift to him that’s been his pride and joy since freshman year. His friend barely even drove it around, afraid to raise the mileage too much. He didn’t doubt Ray’s conviction, or ability, to show it to Peter for going against his wishes, but the engineer was in hot water with the hosting students. One complicated party trick gone wrong, and the front lawn was ablaze quicker than he could control the little ball of plasma. It was their sophomore year, but he still wasn’t welcome near the block of brownstones he managed to devalue.

“Thank you, Egon, I promise I’ll repay you,” Ray’s eyes were glossy with tears as he pressed his face impossibly close to the glass of the window, trying to spot his baby driving somewhere down the street.

Time lessened the heat, Egon thought to himself. It was dark, but not a long walk off campus and a block or two away from the party. It wasn’t hard to find it, either- the music was loud and the bacchanal activities spilled out onto the street and into neighboring yards. No sign of the car. He wrinkled his nose. In the last stretch of freshman year, Peter tried convincing him and Ray to join a fraternity, rattling off a laundry list of reasons that it’d be a thrilling experience for the trio. He was obviously unsuccessful, and dropped the idea when he realized that it’d be hard to make friends in the already tight knit community. 

Egon didn’t dare touch the doorknob, evading people lounging on the stoop as he entered the large house after someone, using his foot to keep the door open. It smelt strongly of booze in the hot, dimly lit apartment, music still blaring from an unknown source. Not to mention the hazy smoke that was billowing through the air, hard to avoid with his height, much like the sounds of two people making out behind the couch. Infection central. How were all these people still going this late? He had to step over the passed out body of some guy without a shirt to get to the kitchen. 

As he stepped from the carpeted area to the tiled floor, arms quickly wrapped around his middle. His head snapped down, and there you were, head buried in his chest.

“Hi, Egon,” you smiled sweetly up at him, eyes glazed over and voice syrupy, not as precise as you made sure it was. He blinked a few times, noticing not only your shoes standing on his, but the fact you called him by his first name.

“Hi.” He reveled in the confusion, before pulling you away from him, gently. “Have you seen Peter? Peter Venkman?”

You thought about it, before the memory flashed back into your recollection. “Dr. Love? He left with my friend Christine.” Your voice slurred the words “left” and “with”, the same way Ray did when he was so smashed he couldn’t stand. Junior year was a sight to behold. 

He remembered how he handled drunken Ray, noting how warm your shoulders were under his fingers. “You’ve been drinking?” He asked despite himself. Being a gentleman was above personal vendetta. It was odd, seeing you dressed like this, out of the professional attire you took pride in every day. Your ability to pick clothes with an anal retentiveness rivals even him- the only college student in a pressed dress shirt, a sweater vest, and slacks. 

“Like, one or five. Itsfine, I’mfine,” you waved your hands around dismissively, before placing them over Egon’s. “I didn’t know you could party, Egie.” He ignored the heat that stung the muscles in his cheeks.

“I don’t.” He went along with it as you started swaying the two of you back and forth lightly. “Did you come with any other friends?”

You went silent, thinking again. It was evidently hard to think and sway, and you eventually fell back into him, unable to keep your balance. “DeanandLisa went to get…food. And they told me to stay here. So I took’a nap.” You nodded to yourself.

“When?”

You couldn’t answer. He peeked sideways at the clock- 3:19. Wherever your friends went, they weren’t going to be back for a long time. 

Your arms were still around him, head back on his chest as his hands hovered over you, awkwardly. It was barely audible, but you were mumbling along to the song playing throughout the rest of the house. He should’ve felt a smug pride, watching you who were once so confident drool on yourself, stumble over your words, and paw at him, but he couldn’t. Egon felt a lash of guilt at the idea of leaving you behind, telling Ray that Peter was long gone, and going to bed. You were obviously inebriated- with no friends and too juiced to know not to sleep on the floor, he couldn’t just let you stay in this dump. 

That’s how he ended up herding you out the door, but not before you stumbled about the apartment, saying good night to everyone. He was on your heels as you banged on a socked-bedroom door, bidding whoever was on the other side farewell, but he wasn’t quick enough before you were shouting your goodbyes down the stairwell of the basement. For being wasted, you were surprisingly fast. He finally got you outside, the skin under his fingers actually cooling as you left the cramped party.

“I didn’t take you to be a party-person,” he confessed, hand on the small of your back to stop you from running across the street to greet the cat staring you down.

“I’m- wait,” you did in fact run, having to kick off your shoes for efficiency before bending down rather ungracefully to pet the feline like a child would, fingers splayed and pushing its ears back unintentionally. He watched on as you skipped back to the sidewalk, grabbing a street sign for stability when you reached him.

“I’m not,” you resumed as he steered you on. “But- it was Christine! She showed me her’fake eyelash…es and convinced me!” You looked to him to share your disbelief as you told the story, shoes waving around as you moved your hands. “I’couldn’t say no!”

Egon found himself smiling. “I have a roommate very similar.” You were surprisingly easier to talk to when drunk. He wasn’t burning up, or scrambling for his words like he normally did when you teased him, making the scientist detest you more and more for your ability to confuse him. His thoughts ceased, as you got closer to campus, but walking with increasing difficulty.

It was when he had to catch you before tripping over yourself that he swallowed his inhibitions, wrapping a hand under you. He wasn’t the strongest out there, maybe even a little weak, but he could support your weight until you reached home. As you let out a small noise of surprise though, he felt a primitive sense of manliness, your figure pressed to his in a bridal carry.

“Soooo strong.” You praised him, voice trailing off as you let your head hit his shoulder. He had to remind himself that you were drunk, none of this really meant anything. You’d wake up, and decide to torment him after taking an aspirin. His grip weakened as his smile did.

“Don’t drop’me,” your hands clawed at the fabric of his shirt, and he adjusted his hold.

“I won’t,” he watched you close your eyes, face content. “I won’t.”

 You were halfway back to the dormitory. He could feel you stirring, looking down and finding your eyes fixed on the night sky. 

“What’s up there?”

“Ursa Major.” You pointed lazily.

“That’s a plane.”

You stiffened in his arms. “No, it’s’not. I know this. It’s the bear.” You managed to cross your arms over yourself while in his hold. He felt bad, provoking you while inebriated. 

“Then it’s the bear.”

“Put me down,” you hit him on the chest a few times, willing him to reluctantly place you on your own two feet. You shook off his attempts at still holding you, intent on trying to make it home on your own. You stormed off along the path, nearly veering off into the grass.

“Where are you going?” He couldn’t hide the concern behind his voice, trying to keep up with you as you took on a sudden irritation towards him.

“Home.” You kept your pace, before slowing, battling something in behind your eyes in your drunken state. “You think I’m dumb.” Egon stopped in his tracks in a moment, before walking behind you again.

“That’s not true,” he said simply, throwing away his feud with you when sober. He thought of you as one of the smartest people he knew. And you managed to make him look like a mere child while baring your smile at him.

“Maybe I’like being drunk,” you retorted to no one in front of you. As you slowed, so did Egon, watching on as you looked on down the dim, street lamp lit path. When he followed your gaze, he saw nothing but the darkness of night ahead of him. Suddenly, you fell forward, uncaring and weightless. He wasn’t quick enough to catch you, heart dropping to his toes before you simply rolled over onto your back. Your knees were scraped, rapidly drying blood mixing with the gravel and dust of the ground over your lacerated skin. Before he could worry too much about it, you merely laughed, full of glee as your eyes were transfixed on the stars, arms out like you were a star yourself. 

You passed out pretty quick after that, a little heavier in his arms. To say Egon was uneasy was an understatement, but at least you were out for a bit. He struggled to get the door to the building open, and even more so getting up to your dormitory floor, only narrowly avoiding hitting your head against a door frame every so often. Taking a quick look at the plates on each door, he was relieved at finding your surname printed on one. After a few discreet knocks, however, no one opened up, either passed out themselves or simply not home. Searching for solutions, he sighed, again, gently laying you against the baseboards. It wasn’t his most elegant idea, but it’d have to do as he reached in his pocket for a pad and paper. He simply scribbled the words “Passed out, sleeping in 244. Please pick up when you get home.” Pressing it in the space between the room number and the wood, he picked you up for the third time and made the trek back to his own place.

You looked peaceful, as Egon decided on putting you in Ray’s bed, alcohol and cotton pads ready. Ray wasn’t home himself- and it’d be unbecoming of him to put you in his own. He hummed to himself, your current state reminding him of the deuteragonist in the play you gave him. They were affluent and sybaritic, imprisoned while drunk and jovial, to the aggravation of the protagonist, tied to tradition and analytical. He hoped that whoever you were in chains with took the liberty of cleaning your open wounds like he did. 

Apparently, the sting of disinfectant is enough to rouse the unconscious awake, as the liquid being pressed to your skin made you jolt back to the present, sucking in air between your teeth and nearly kneeing him in the nose. You rushed to sit up as properly as you could, bringing your legs to your chest.

“What’re you doing?” The pain must’ve been worse in this state. He suddenly felt very, very bad about not waiting until you were awake to take care of it, but he remembered that you couldn’t make proper decisions for yourself like this. He wet another pad, though warily. Who was Egon to say that he could make proper decisions for you, sober or otherwise?

He approached you gently, showing you his materials. “Sanitizing. It could get infected.” Maybe that was a bit overzealous, but germs love untreated, open flesh.

You calmed, letting your legs dangle over the bedside again, the exaggerated idea of losing a leg scarier than the cleaning agent in his hand. “Oh.” He figured you were sobering up, even by a bit, from the way your words slurred less and you clung Ray’s blanket to yourself, night’s activities catching up with your tired body. You looked around as he worked quickly, taking in the room.

“You’re messy.” Egon raised his eyebrows once at that, prepping another pad.

“We’re scientists. And Peter.” He could hear you laugh weakly above him. It felt nice, to make you feel nice. Egon felt oddly at ease, on his knees, cleaning you up- as dubious as it sounded. He moved on to your other leg, remembering your situation. “Would you like to stay here? Your friends aren’t home.”

Silence as he wiped away the grime. Your voice sounded again. “A sleepover.”

He resisted a yawn, letting it escape through his nose before catching sight of the clock. “Sure.”

You didn’t say anything else. Better for him- he was sure you didn’t have a key and he was a terrible locksmith. You were leaning back on your hands.

“My doctor.”

He bit back the smile and blush that spread over his face with a clench of his jaw. You were still drunk, no matter how coherent. And wrong. “Not yet a doctor.” He was done bandaging both your injuries some time ago.

“Doctor Egon,” you drew out the word, giggling to yourself. He’d let it slide, this time. Misused titles were disdainful in academia. But he supposed being a stickler didn’t matter so much, now.

Eventually, he rose to his feet, eyes honing in to a surface level scratch on your cheek from the fall. He held your jaw lighty, thumb careful to not graze too much over it. It wasn’t severe, but he assumed you’d prefer to not have a deep scar there for the entirety of the summer to come. He thought about summer. He’d be here, on an internship, while you’d be away, probably away with your friends again. You’d get drunk, seemingly trusting the people around you far too much until you’re hurt- worse than you are now. Whatever meathead you’d spent the night with wouldn’t know first aid if it was thrown at him. Egon soaked in his jealousy, eyebrows falling over his eyes, before coming back to his senses, soaking one more piece of cotton and gently tapping it to your face, a small adhesive placed to protect it. 

“Kiss to make it better?” He let go of your face, moving to the kitchen sink to wash his hands as you giggled to yourself again. It was awfully late, now.

“You should get some sleep,” he dried his hands off. He would miss you, but time was the only fool-proof remedy- and daylight was quickly approaching.

“No fun,” you complained, but you still settled into Ray’s bed, pulling the comforter around yourself. He contemplated what to do, get into his own bed or just wait for you to sleep instead. You rolled over to face him.

“Are you sure you don’t want my help with the play? I’m not supposed to, though. But I can do the voices.” Right. The play. He eyed the book, forgotten about in the corner of his desk.

“I’d rather you rest.” 

“You should sleep, too.” He could tell you were fighting your own exhaustion. He pulled out his chair, moving Ray’s coil to the side to make work of his assignment again. 

“I’d rather you did, first.” He opened to the page he left off on.

“Egon.” You sounded scarily sober. He turned in his seat to face you.

You freed yourself from the blanket a bit. “You’re tired. You always look tired.” Another state of inebriation was taking hold of you. Maudlin. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything.

He chewed at the inner part of his bottom lip before speaking again. “You’re very stressed. And you’re going to wake up feeling like hell.” He searched for the right words to convince you to let yourself go. “I’ll sleep too, and we can talk to each other in our dreams.” A little ridiculous, but it’s not the craziest thing he’s said to a tippler.

The hammered part of you was contemplating it, before you smiled and nodded. Before he went back to his work, you called for him one more time.

“Egon?”

“Yes?”

“I need a lullaby.” You had the same devilish, teasing look in your eye as you did when you were sober. He looked around in confusion as you looked towards him expectantly, before he surrendered, winding up a small snow globe that Peter kept out, even in Spring. As it played, you shook your head.

“No, sing the one by Manfred Mann.” He grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it over your head as you laughed uncontrollably to yourself.

“Goodnight.”

Egon had fallen asleep over his book some time later. As he came to, he looked back, hopeful to still see you, sleeping soundly. His hope faltered as he took in the empty space, neither his roommates returned or your spot on Ray’s bed filled in by your shape. There was a strange emptiness in his chest, knowing you were gone in a matter of hours. The only proof of your presence was the used bottle of isopropyl in the corner of his desk.

His breath slowed, light of the early morning burning into his eyes as he slowly rose out of his chair. Walking off, not sure if he was going to shower, or eat, or what, he noticed a small paper on the pillow. He picked it up, wondering if it would disappear in his hands.

“Thank you, Doctor.” He folded it back. You were drunk. It didn’t mean anything. But he still smiled.

[highhhfiveee]

smoke break

here ye here ye i'm having satoru gojo thots o_0

y'all, okay. i’ve been writing part five of safety net but i CANNOT get this fucking thought out of my head cause i’ve been watching jujutsu kaisen and i am obsessed 😭 not only with the show, but the world, characters and everything [the big three is my family fr i don’t play ab them].

IN SAYING THAT, i was at work one day and boop! in my head pops a non-curse au of line cook!gojo. when i told my roommate this, they looked at me like i was certifiably insane because “there is nothing attractive about line cooks” [see exhibit A] but please please PLEASE Y’ALL HEAR ME OUT! Y’ALL ARE THE ONLY ONES WHO WILL UNDERSTAND!

tags: fluff [nothing suggestive, no smut, just pure CUTENESS]! non-curse au, line cook!satoru gojo, BOH shift lead!ryomen sukuna [LMAO], f!reader. cigarette smoking occurs. also i've seen the bear but all of my kitchen knowledge comes from my own work in kitchens and restaurants. this is slightly [highly] self-in[dulgent]sert lmao.

like imagine being the new girl at your job, a diner-style restaurant parked dead center in a high traffic plaza on the outskirts of the city, and even though you swore you’d never work in food service again after leaving your previous hellhole of employment, of course you find yourself walking up to the employee entrance rehearsing your script.

“hi! my name is y/n, i’ll be your server today….hi! my name is y/n, i’ll be taking care of you today…howdy, i’m y/n…ugh, really? fucking howdy?”

you’re so caught up in your perfect waitress greetings, staring down at your non-slippable feet when you crash into someone [a tree] wearing all black exiting the bathroom corridor.

he’s so tall that only his torso knocks into your shoulders, jolting your step and causing you to lose your footing.

you’re squealing out a million things; gibberish because you’re falling, “i’m so sorry!” for not paying attention, and…”thank you,” rather quietly as you feel a strong arm keeping you from crumbling onto yourself.

the movement is quick, so light that you’re not sure if he actually helped you up or if you’d just levitated back to your feet; either way, you’re silent as he stares down at you with the brightest blue eyes you’d ever seen, a glint in them that matches the small smirk pulling on the corner of his mouth.

“careful now,” he playfully chastises, running a hand through his platinum blonde hair as he walks away from your frozen frame, his stride as confident as ever as he turns the corner to the kitchen.

you shake your head softly, knowing that you shouldn't think too much into the interaction. it was short, one, and two, if your years of work in this industry taught you anything, it was not to get involved with anyone that worked in the kitchen. front of house and back of house didn't mix, not that way.

you're grateful that you're not even able to think about it after you clock in, your brain unable to process your racing thoughts of gojo’s touch and the millions of tables that you’ve had to take; order after order after order stacks up against the feeling of his arm around your waist and a few hours into your shift, it becomes a passing memory.

while you’re not able to see gojo with the amount of back and forth you’re doing, he’s able to take you in in all your beautiful glory.

you’re wearing the usual all black: a button down that shows off a mole on your collarbone and well-fitting black slacks. your hair is thrown back into a slick ponytail, your black and white scrunchie nearly concealed by the sheer amount of dark brown curls it contained. little flyway ringlets frame your eyes, wide, brown pools that gojo knows will be impossible not to melt into; though he’s observed you for most of his shift, top to bottom, your lips captivate him the most.

full, bow-shaped and painted powdery red, he nearly burns himself on the grill watching you take someone’s order, a tinge jealous of the warm, genuine smile you give them.

“yo, ‘jo. focus! we got, like, eight cheesesteaks all day and you’re over there gawkin’ like a dumbass. look, the meats’ burnt!” he remembers where he is and what he's doing, senses prickling at the calls of "corner!" and "hot!" and the sound and smell of food cooking all around him.

“shut the fuck up, ryo….and it’s not burnt!” gojo sharply retaliates, looking down to the profoundly browned shaved steak. he grabs for his spatula, ignoring ryomen’s dickish chuckles behind him. “shit.”

he manages to focus somewhat, knocking out a few more hours of his shift without letting his eyes wander over to your slim frame as you shimmy between tables, or his ears catch the soft lilt of your voice as you ask someone what they'd like their side to be.

he tucks you into the back of his mind, keeping your presence within as small as he possibly can.

you’re still in residence up there when he takes his first [third] smoke break, stepping out back. he can still hear the plain muzak from inside reverberating against the insulation, the open and closing of car doors all over the plaza, and the rattle of the wind through the chain link fence that keeps him separated from the world 10 hours a day.

all he can do is sigh at the monotony of it all, leaning against the bricks while he fishes his cigarette carton from his back pocket.

deep down, he knows he should quit. he could count the number of people that have asked him to quit on both hands, but always waved off their concerns. there was nothing better to calm his nerves, or help relieve the agitation he felt from working with ryomen, friend or not.

he’d always said that a cigarette or four a day wouldn’t kill him, though he wasn’t sure why he always chose to tell such a boldfaced lie.

he snakes a cig between his lips, grabbing for his lighter and closing his eyes before that crackle he knows all too well fills the void around him.

not seeing the end of the cigarette flame red is another lie on gojo’s part; if he can’t see the chemical reaction working to activate the toxic substances, there’s no damage he can do to himself.

it’s illogical, once again, though it’s his own logic, and to him, it makes sense.

“my dad used to do the same thing,” gojo’s eyes fly open, his breath catching in his throat as he glances at you, your hand pressed against the cracked door. you give him a little smile before fully stepping out into the breezy summer air, taking a deep breath. “you light the cigarette with your eyes closed so you can fool yourself into thinking that you’re not actually harming yourself.”

gojo exhales smoke, watching with careful eyes as you pace before him. you catch his stare, blinking slowly before saying, “he lived by that until he didn’t.”

if he didn't know any better, he would've thought you were a completely different girl from the one he'd bumped into this morning; then, you'd seemed so reserved, so meek, but now, he realizes that he'd like to get to know the real you. he was sure you didn’t even know his name, but here you were, condemning his MO like it was your place.

he hated anyone telling him off, even slightly, but he found himself more than willing to hear you out; more than willing to let you do it again and again and again.

“you come out here jus' to scold me?”

“no,” you answer plainly, coming to a stop just a few inches from him. “i came to smoke too, but my pack was empty. i asked someone in the kitchen for one….who was it…oh! ryo said he didn’t have any, and that i should come out here and ask satoru."

gojo’s heart skips a small beat at you using his first name instead of his last; he forbade anyone he didn’t know from using it, ryomen knew that, but of course he’d play these juvenile games. gojo could see the shit-eating grin plastered over his face now, his full laugh radiating throughout the kitchen at his scheme.

“i assume you're satoru, unless he was just messing with me.”

"don't mind him. he's a dickhead," gojo swears, deliberating on how he's gonna make ryo pay for this as he begins to reach for his pack again. he's not expecting you to stop him with a gentle touch to the wrist, though.

“oh no, i don’t need a full one….is it okay if we share yours?”

gojo nods, silent and alert as your fingers glide against his in order to slip the cigarette to your grasp. he nearly closes his hand around yours, embarrassingly.

you take your first drag with a hum, your eyelashes fluttering as you turn to the sunset and exhale with no effort, no cough.

“i don’t usually smoke whole cigarettes. i go through maybe…two in a day? a couple hits here and there is usually enough to get me through."

“this must be your first food service job then.”

“try sixth,” you respond jadedly. you take another hit, and another, and another, and gojo doesn’t even mind that you’ve seemingly forgotten to pass the cigarette back to him. he can tell that you're lost in the tale you're telling, and he wants to keep you there with him. “i’ve been through my chain smoking days, trust me. seeing what happened to my dad definitely made me assess whether a pack a day was really worth it.”

with the mention of your nicotine journey, he begins to hear the scratch in your voice, noticeable more when you’re talking in this low, casual tone. as unfortunate as it is, its method of fruition, gojo can’t help but think about how sexy you sound and how he'd listen to you talk about anything if it always came out like that.

“why not quit then?”

you giggle, throwing gojo a pointed look that makes him want to swallow you whole. you purse your lips, ready to challenge him with your response.

“we all have our vices, don’t we?”

gojo returns your laugh, standing to his full height. he crosses his arms across his chest as he stares down at you staring up at him. your height difference is almost laughable, with your head barely even reaching his shoulders.

his mind begins to wander to X-rated places as you take your spot on the wall beside him, allowing the wind to graze your skin and create a conversation between the two of you that requires no words.

“shit!” you snap after a while, looking to the now small cigarette between your index and middle finger. “i’m so sorry. i didn’t mean to smoke so much of it.”

“’s all good. maybe...you’ve convinced me to smoke in moderation.”

you give him that smile, warm and genuine, and his heart flips again as you slip the remnant of his cig back into his palm, letting your fingertips linger for just a moment longer than you should.

“maybe…i’ll have to hold you to that, satoru.” you dust your hands off on your pants before poising yourself to return to the hustle and bustle of the dinner rush. “i’m y/n, by the way. it’s nice to meet you. thanks for the smoke, and catching me earlier, as embarrassing as that was."

“i’ve seen worse,” he reassures, but while he'd seen much, much worse, he was positive that he had never witnessed anything better than you. even in the small, nearly six hour window that he’d known you, he's unwaveringly sure that you’re his heaven personified.

“i’d hate to know what’s worse, but then again…if that means i get to talk to you, maybe i don’t.” you give him a wink, an actual good one, and he nearly drops to his knees, uncharacteristically ready to wholly give himself over to you.

you give him one more smile and a wave before leaving him alone, his brain alternating between reeling and shutting down.

he looks down to the filter in his palm, chuckling at the negligible amount of tobacco you left for him. he’s about to toss it into the stack of other disregarded butts as routine calls for when he notices the red marks smeared all over it.

he holds it a bit closer to his face, examining the soft, messy lipstick stains you’ve left behind. it’s art, something he thinks should be showcased in the MoMA or The Louvre, titled how satoru gojo fell in love.

while he wouldn't be able to get it to either of those places anytime soon, he decides that behind his ear works as a close third, and finishes the rest of his shift with that reminder of you close to him.

LIKE ISNT THIS SO CUTE????? I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS, PLEASE OMG! I PLAN TO CONTINUE THIS AU BUT PLEASE SEND ME YOUR JJK REQS!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf-@jun1p3rlol-@xyzstar-@aquamarine001-@atrociouslybear-@ickleronniekinsemotionalrange

*exhibit A

i love you all 🫶

[dsireland86]

LOVESONG

Nicholas Ruffilo x Reader

18+ for smut, language, and angst

"However far away I will always love you However long I stay I will always love you/Whatever words I say I will always love you I will always love you"

TAGS:

@somewhere-diamond, @philomenie, @pathion, @acciobuckybarness

                            Lovesong

“Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am home again/ Whenever I’m alone with you, you make me feel like I am whole again.”

The constant dragging of the pen across my skin doesn’t hurt nearly as bad as I thought it would. Nick was right when he told me I'd be fine. I watch him, how he easily guides the needle over my skin, following the lines of the words painted on my arm. It’s a simple tattoo; simple words in simple writing, but it’s the meaning behind them. It’s what it represents that makes me smile. I look up at Nick and watch his expression, so serious, so focused, and smile, grateful that he's mine.

“There, finished,” he says, turning off the pen and removing his gloves. I bring my arm over and grin when I see the finished product. It’s perfect. I have no intention masking the tears forming behind my eyes either because if there’s anything Nicholas knows best about me it’s that I get emotional when it comes to him, so I leave them, letting them softly slide down my cheeks. The words carry a deep meaning for me and Nick ever since we listened to the song they belonged together. It was the first time we kissed, and that first kiss led to many sweet, hot make out sessions and moments of realizing that neither of us wanted anyone else. They were the bridge that connected our hearts together and reminded us of the truth; that we would always love each other. Looking up into his pale green eyes, he slid his hand over my cheek while holding my stare, smiling.   

“I love it, thank you baby.” Grinning, I pull Nicholas into me, giving him a gentle kiss, but the more he leans into me, the more greedy I become. Our tongues meet and dance together as I grip the corner of his shirt with my one good hand and cling to him, never wanting to let him go. If I do, I might stop breathing. “How can I be so fucking attracted to you by just you laying in chair like this,” he mumbles against my lips while climbing on top of me. Giggling, I welcome him, opening my legs wider so he can lay into me and when he does I instantly feel complete. The pressure of his swollen length, hard against my heat, stirs the fire in me that is yearning to ignite into something unstoppable. Nick’s breath is shaky, telling me he’s thinking of things he probably shouldn’t be, but rubs noses with mine anyway, caressing the side of my face with his long, tattooed hand. He creases his brow in frustration, trying to find a stimulant for the friction between his own legs. I want to be that stimulant so I encourage him by arching my back and thrusting my sex against him. “Why am I so freaking in love with you,” he grumbles and lowers his lips to my neck. I arch my head back further to give him more access and moan as he continues rubbing against me. “I could write poems on your neck with my lips; that’s how much I love you.” I feel the low rumble of a growl against his chest as his lips slide across my neck.

“You just love the idea of me,” I joke.

“No.” Nicholas pulls back and looks at me. “No,” he says again, caressing the side of my face again. "I do love you,” pecking my lips. I can’t help but smile a little and pull him down with my one good arm, and kiss him, hard. 

“I love you too; so much that I can’t even explain it.” 

Nick’s eyes have always been the focal point for me. They were the first thing I ever noticed about him. They way they look at me, see me, they just make me dive right into him, head first with no regret. We stare into each other for a moment and just when I think he’s about to get up, he lifts my shirt up instead and begins to drag his hands over my belly and under the waistband of my leggings, making me gasp. He looks up at me with a smirk and tugs at my leggings, until he has them partially down. 

“Nick, what the fuck!” I’m so scared someone’s going to catch us. 

“Relax, Y/N. We’re good. It’s late. No one’s coming back tonight.” He gets up off me and pulls the privacy curtain that loops entirely around his work space closed. 

“Better,” he asks? I nod, giving him a shy smile. “Are you going to leave me like this?” pointing towards my bottom half. Nick pulls out his phone and my eyes grow wide. “Don’t you dare, Ruffilo,” I scold him. But he just smiles and snaps a few pictures of me before I’m able to do anything. “For memories sake,” he smirks. “No!” I cry, throwing my head back, laughing. Leaving me exactly how I am, Nick begins to clean up my finished tattoo, working carefully, but quickly so we can continue where he left off. After covering it properly and removing his gloves, he slides over to me on his rolling stool and removes my leggings entirely. Spreading my legs and exposing my soaking wet pussy to his eyes alone, Nicholas licks his lips and whistles. “Really, We’re doing this here?” Not that I minded. I just wanted to hear him tell me how badly he wanted me. He looks up at me and grins while grabbing his phone and after a few seconds of waiting, our song begins to play over the bluetooth speaker.

My heart stops beating and the feeling that swallows me up is indescribable. “Nick,” I whisper as “Lovesong” by the Cure plays, filling the room with a haunting aurora. “Relax my love. Embrace the feeling,” he says convincingly, rising to his feet and pulling me down until my ass is partially off the chair. He sinks to his knees as I grip the sides of the chair in anticipation of what’s about to happen. When his tongue licks up in between my folds a loud, unintentional cry escapes me, and as he begins to work up my pussy, I embrace the feeling  rushing through me like he told me to and refuse to hold back any sound or word that wants to escape. 

“Shit baby, fuck,” I moan, feeling Nick’s tongue plunge deep inside my opening. Between the lyrics being belted out by Robert Smith and the way Nick is fucking me with his mouth, my arousal is climbing quickly to its tipping point. “Y/N, I fucking love you so much, you know that, right?” I look down at Nick and the way he’s staring at me, mouth glistening with a mixture of my juices and his spit have me all kinds of crazy. But I nod, too out of breath to say anything. He smiles while running his finger through my slit and I hear him moan the second he dives back into me, eating and devouring everything he wants. “You’re mine to touch,” I hear him say in between the cries for more that spill out of me. “No one else's.” He slides two fingers at a time inside me, causing me to thrust into the feeling of them sliding between my walls as his tongue continues its electrifying assault. The sounds he’s making are edging me closer.

“Fuck, Nick, I want you, please. I want you on me, in me,” I pant, moaning when his fingers start pumping faster. I grind harder against them, pushing them knuckle deep and coating them with the wetness that only Nick can create in me. “That’s it, love, push that sweet pussy hard against my fingers. Soak my fingers and let me see those juices drip down my wrist just for me.” My thighs are shaking. Nick notices and takes a moment to stop and plant sweet kisses inside of them, biting tenderly at the warm flesh. I can’t hold back my moans. I don’t care if the whole street can hear me. The way Nick is making me feel is worth it. “God, Y/N the way you cry for me is so beautiful. I wanna hear more of it.” His mouth finds my entrance again, and this time he doesn’t hold back. “I want to make you cum for me baby.” I can’t deny the heat spreading under my skin or the fire in my abdomen that I feel. I know I’m close. “Nicky, fuck baby I’m almost there. Don’t stop, please don’t stop,” I beg him, reaching for the back of his head. My fingers find his hair and I tangle them in his messy bun, pushing his face against my cunt and locking his head in place with my thighs. His one hand locks around my calf and squeezes hard while the other one is pumping in and out of me at a merciless rhythm. With my heart racing and my muscles tightening, I grip Nick’s hair and start to moan louder, begging him not to stop as my arousal comes crashing into me, finishing me off on such a high that tears slip from the corners of my eyes and down to my ears. I’m breathless and my head is slightly spinning when Nick stands up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I can’t hold back any longer,” he confesses, undoing his belt and letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor. “I want you… here…right now,” pulling me down a little more and lining his swollen cock with my sex.

“Seeing you between my legs is so fucking hot.” Nicholas raises his eyes to me and grins big, and then without warning, slams himself into me like a savage dog. His lips part, exposing his teeth making the feeling of the ridges on his cock buried deep in me more intoxicating than before. I urge him on, panting and moaning his name along with words barely audible, watching the euphoric expression on his face take over. He throws his head back, holding my legs wrapped tightly around him and continues to pound into me, taking from me everything that makes him feel like a man. “That’s it my love, say my name as I fuck your tight little pussy that holds me just right.” He looks down then lays into me, kissing my lips with so much hunger I almost can’t breathe. Gripping his shoulders, I squeeze, digging my nails into the flesh covered by his black “My Chemical Romance” shirt. “Nicky,” I moan, unable to finish my thought. He picks up his pace, thrusting into me at a frantic pace. My walls are fluttering around his cock as shockwaves grip my body. “Y/N, fuck baby you’ve got me almost there. Keep moaning for me, keep crying,” he growls, throwing his thumb over my clit and circling it as quickly as he can. I cry louder for him as my own climax explodes all around me and it proves to be enough for Nicholas as he quickly shoves the front of my shirt up, pulls out of me and releases his cum all over my stomach, shuttering and moaning out the rest of his orgasm. “Holy fuck, Y/N,” he nervously laughs. He milks himself one last time before  placing a quick kiss on my lips and backs away to pull his pants back up. I lay there feeling utterly spent and out of breath, but feeling completely satisfied. Nick comes over with a towel, wiping up his mess and cleaning me off. Apparently, he put “Lovesong” on repeat because it starts over for a third time. But this time we sit across from each other and listen to the words together.

As we clean up and get ready to go home, we talk about how we’re adding tonight to the box of secret memories that include all the hot and heavy make out sessions in the book store where I work. 

It’s a favorite place of ours. On weekends when I’m not working we get expensive coffee, dive into gothic authors like Poe and Walpole, and listen to The Cure on Nick's old Discman while sharing earbuds. I nestle in close to him with his arm around me and we share a book that I always let him pick out. It makes him happy and that’s all I want; to see Nicholas happy.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------

We intended to spend the rest of our lives together and add more secrets to our box. But soon after Nicholas left with his band for a two month tour things started changing for me. My dad got really sick. So sick that we had to move hours away to be closer to the hospitals that were trying everything to save him. I didn't have a choice in anything that happened and it didn’t seem fair. Nick and I tried all we could to make the long distance and work schedules work, but with his constant touring, the outbreak, and my dad's sickness getting worse, life suddenly came crashing down all around us. It left us both broken, hurting in ways we never thought were possible for us. It ended us. I was the one who chose to walk away first because it was too painful to continue digging into wounds that were trying to heal. Everytime Nicholas left for a tour or to fly out to California, he took a piece of me with him, until eventually, I didn’t even recognize who I was anymore. I was done feeling that way. Our box of secrets eventually got buried, and possibly forgotten about at least for Nicholas. That’s what I always told myself on the days where I longed and ached for him. It was the easiest way to deal with it.  If he didn’t care then why should I? 

Eventually the pain passed and eventually the hurt faded, but I never got over Nick and the fact that I was the one that ultimately ended us. I carried that guilt with me everywhere. Especially with the success of his band. Bad Omens was everywhere and it seemed like no matter where I went I saw all four of their sweet faces or heard Noah’s incredible vocals that I knew he busted his ass to accomplish. He certainly wasn’t the boy in Folio’s garage screaming his head off anymore. 

They had made it and they were living everything they talked about living and wanting during all those late nights I would spend with them in Nick's basement, all of them high or wasted. I was proud to have been there from the very beginning, watching them grow and conquer shit as a band and as individuals. But I was heartbroken to not be there now and often wondered, many times, if any of them still thought about me, especially Nicholas. The words tattooed on my skin with the memory of what happened after were a constant reminder of my stupidity. But I chose to pick up the broken pieces of life anyway and carry on living despite the pain. I had to fight even if it hurt.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“However far away, I will always love you

However long I stay, I will always love you

Whatever words I say, I will always love you

I will always love you”

I moved back a few months ago. With Dad’s death and Mom refusing to leave where his last moments with us were, I decided it was time for me to spread my wings a little. I missed my old home, the town, and the memories, and since it wasn’t too far from Mom, I signed a two year lease on an apartment right down from the old bookstore where I used to work. It closed about a year and a half after I left when the owners passed away. One died right after the other, possibly from a broken heart. The idea that one couldn't live without the other was beautiful, sort of like an “Annabell Lee” kind of thing. I could still hear Nick’s quiet voice when he told me how beautifully morbid my mind was after telling him it was my favorite poem of Poe's. I saw a different look in his eyes that day; the dark green hoodie he was wrapped in bringing out the soft green in his narrow orbs. The way they stared at me felt as if he might’ve been thinking about forever. Maybe he was. Needless to say that afternoon was another memory for our box of secrets.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

Our fingers tangle, weaving in and out of each other’s as I sit between Nicholas’s legs, my head against his chest. There’s a soft silence between us once I finish the poem and gently close the book, laying it down next to me. The only thing we can hear from our small cozy nook tucked away in the back of the bookstore is the soft shuffling of a customer’s feet or the ringing of the doorbell indicating movement coming in or going out. 

Nick places a gentle kiss on the side of my head. “Your mind is morbid, Y/N, but beautiful,” he states, stroking my hair away from my forehead and releasing a light chuckle. I lay my arms to rest on each of his legs that are covered by his favorite pair of black jeans; the ones with the holes in them. They’re my favorite too because they give me access to places only I’m allowed to touch. Massaging his thighs, I slide two fingers through the holes, feeling the warm flesh buried beneath them and I hear a subtle groan slip through his lips. It makes my toes tingle. “I know, I can’t help it. But I think it might be a reason you like me so much,” I say, smiling as I feel his thigh muscles flex then relax and he takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. “It’s not the only reason I like you so much,” he muses. Nicholas lays his hands over mine as I continue to rub his legs, craving to feel more than just the little spot beneath my fingers. He leans down and runs his moist lips up my neck, leaving traces of small kisses as he goes. I clench between my legs as my core tingles with the familiar feeling I get everytime I’m close to Nick like this. I know he’s trying to work me up just as much as I am him. I close my thighs and the cool wetness of my arousal that soaks my panties rubs against my skin. I moisten my lips and whimper, shifting and purposely pushing hard against Nick's swollen cock. “Shit,” he mumbles, sucking in a light breath through his teeth

I knew where this was going, and as long as we were quiet, we'd get away with it. I remove my fingers from the holes and move them further up his slim legs, closer to where his hardness is pushed against my back. He twitches against me, causing me to giggle and wiggle against him some more. Nick’s breath hitches in his throat. “Two can play this game you know,” he croons, acknowledging my actions while taking a bit of my ear between his teeth and sucking it as I softly cry out. His hands snake around me and one finds the bottom of my throat;  thumb and finger finding the perfect points to quiet me as the rest wrap around the sides, restricting my airwaves. The other one trails over my thigh and dives right into my warm center, gripping it, rubbing it, and shamelessly slides two of its fingers knuckle deep inside me. I want to moan, but Nick tightens his grip on my throat. “Shhhhhh…. You need to be a good girl and stay quiet. If you do, maybe I’ll let you cum on my dick instead of my fingers,” he whispers. My chest rises and falls quickly from the overstimulation of Nick’s fingers that are slowly and mercilessly moving in and out of my wet cunt that’s been hungry for him all day. My choked moans only encourage him to go faster, creating that coiling feeling all over my sensitive bundle of nerves. “Nick, I wanna cum so badly,” I whine weakly as the heart spreads under my skin. But the only thing I hear in return is the panting sounds coming from behind me.

Nick is totally getting off on what he’s doing to me and the thought alone makes me clench around his fingers.  My arousal is at its peak and Nick has managed to build my pleasure up in such a way that I’m about to set a record and cum for him after only a few minutes of his foreplay. But just as the heat begins to pool in my lower back and abdomen, telling me I’m about to, he stops, pulling his fingers out of me, leaving me empty and whimpering for his touch. His grip on my throat loosens and I relax against him. “Fuck, Nick,” I hiss, my body limp in his arms. I hear him chuckle and feel the deep vibration in his chest. “I told you if you were good I’d let you cum on my dick, so get up here,” he insists, lifting me up. Excitedly, I sit up, turning around to face him. The hard bulge between his legs shows me just how well I can satisfy him and I can’t resist the temptation to run the palm of my hand over it applying the right amount of pressure. Nick releases a pleasurable groan and lays his head back against the wall. 

“You sound like you’re hungry for something,  my love,” I whisper through a quaky breath. I can feel those pangs of excitement inside my walls again that are craving Nicholas and everything he can offer me. From the sweet and fun sex, down to the rough and dirty, he knew my body like he knew the chords to his music and he knew what to do and how to work it to his benefit. 

“I’m starving for you to slip me inside you. He is hungry, baby.” he admits, rubbing his crotch, trying to find some release from the friction. The desperation in his tone doesn’t go unnoticed and I suddenly want to give him everything he wants. Brushing the hair out of his eye, I look into his soft eyes and straddle him and start to rub my aching sex against his cock. His hands find my hips, pushing me further into him. 

“God bless woman, if this is what reading a little bit of Poe does to you, then I wanna read  his complete works and fuck you until you’re screaming my name.” Nicholas grips my bottom and pushes me harder against him until I can feel the discomfort penetrating the tender flesh of my clit and making me whimper some more. “It wouldn’t take long, that’s for sure,” I admit, wrapping my arms around his neck. I raise myself up, shoving my breasts closer to his face, and he nuzzles in between them with his nose. Without a word he lifts my shirt and pulls the cup of my bra down, releasing my nipple to the coolness surrounding us. His teeth quickly latch on, nipping and sucking it, making it harder than before, and eventually takes the whole breast in his mouth. I moan and grind on him, praying he doesn’t stop anytime soon. “Fuck me, right now, Y/N,” the tone in his voice filled with desperate urgency.  Nick doesn’t have to repeat himself. I climb off him and undo his pants and help him slide them off and in one quick tug he has mine off. “Wait,” he says before I climb back on top of him. I look down to see a sly look covering his face. “Hand’s on the wall,” he orders, taking my legs and pulling me closer to his face. I grin, licking my lips and closing my eyes as I do as I’m told. I know what I’m about to feel is going to take me over the edge and I hope I can remain quiet. 

“Your pussy is a work of art, Y/N,” Nicholas praises, sliding a finger through my wetness. I suck in a huge breath and bite my lip to stay quiet. “Look how wet you are for me baby. So needy, ready for my cock to disappear into your body and stretch you, ripping you apart until you’re shaking and spilling your juices all over my dick. Fuck, love.” Nick’s words have my legs trembling and it takes all my effort to keep myself up. I quietly moan, throwing my hand over my mouth and biting the inside of my finger to keep from crying out in desperate need for him. “Nick,” I moan against my hand. He slips a finger in me, prodding me, then slides his tongue over my lips, licking up and moistening my pussy with his spit. “Nick, fucking dammit, I can’t,” “Fuck me, Y/N,” he demands, knocking my legs until I collapse in his arms. I grip his cock and bring it to my entrance, sinking down on it until it completely disappears inside me. The pressure fills me, and the fullness of him claiming me is making me desperate to feel more. “Oh my god,” Nick cries into my neck,  grabbing my hips to push and pull me against him. “You like claiming what’s yours, baby,” I ask, pulling up off him until just the tip of his cock is touching my walls. I circle it for a moment before sinking back down on him, watching his expression fade into pure erotic ecstasy. “You know I do,” he answers, breathlessly. Nicholas groans deep in his throat, tightening his grip on my hips until I’m sure he’s leaving bruises. My hands grab his neck as I begin to grind and rock against him, slowly and sweetly at first, but picking up the pace as the climax in both of us continues to grow. “Oh god baby, that’s it. Ride me Y/N. Grind on me until we find that spot that’s going to make you cum for me.” The warmth that’s created by the two of us starts to make us sweat and I cling to Nick as if my life depends on it. I’m in love with him, intoxicated by everything about him.

“You're so beautiful, love,” Nick gushes. I smile and lower my lips to his, hiding a thousand words of love for him, hoping he’ll taste them one by one. “If the universe took you from me I wouldn’t rest until I found you again,” Nicholas whispers in my ear as his teeth graze the outer lobe. I pick up the pace of riding him gently while his lips find the soft flesh of my breasts. He wraps his tongue around them and takes the nipples between his teeth, nipping them gently enough to get the rise out of me he’s looking for. I seethe, bringing my hands to the back of his head to keep him there as I push my overstimulated, soaking wet pussy further onto his throbbing cock; the deep ridges and crevices massage my inner walls as I continuously move back and forth at a faster pace. 

“I think the angels aren’t happy when they look at us,” Nick says, gripping my hair and tugging it back just so he can kiss my neck the way he wants to. He lingers on one spot a little too long, leaving behind his mark of ownership that leaves me beaming with pride. 

I'm too overwhelmed with what's happening between my legs to think about anything else except how good Nick is making me feel and how it's getting harder to suppress the cries dying to escape. I bite my bottom lip and fall into his shoulder. “They don’t get to feel you cum like I do.” He pushes in harder, pushes deeper, hitting that spot that he knows is his alone. “Nick, you’re ma…” I can't finish my thought as a deep cry fills the back of my throat. My body is on fire. The familiar heat is pooling in my lower abdomen and I can feel my climax coming quickly. “I’m what baby,” he purrs, reaching his hand down and using his thumb to apply the right amount of pressure on my clit as he circles it.  I moan a little too loudly, earning Nick’s hand over my mouth. “You want to cum for me?” he growls, clenching his jaw and tightening his grip on my waist. I nod quickly as a single tear slips down my cheek.  Nick removes his hand from my mouth and replaces it with his mouth, his tongue slipping inside mine and claiming every part of it his. “Then cum for me, Y/N. Tell me I’m the only one who has your soul. Not the angels, not the demons; only me.” And I did. I cum so hard on Nicholas leaving ungodly marks on his shoulders that I’m left in tears. Nick kisses the side of my head as I relax into him, breathing heavily as he rests his hands on my back and drags his fingers up and down my skin. 

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

I wiped the tears that had unknowingly fallen. Those memories of Nicholas were so beautiful to me, yet were the death of me each time I brought them out of their box. I missed him; my soul was slowly dying for him. 

The windows of the old bookstore were boarded up but not the front door. The bell that rang out each time someone walked in or out was still on the front, rusted and out of use. Inside was dark and I could vaguely see dust covering bookshelves that had been left behind just like the memories of Nick. I looked down at my arm, running a finger over the words that were slowly starting to dull, and smiled at the thoughts. Wiping my face, I continued my walk home, pulling my phone out the moment it vibrated. I stopped, frozen in time. There was a text message… from Noah. My hands started shaking and my heart started racing. At first I thought about just deleting it without reading it, but then I realized that wouldn’t be fair to Noah. He didn’t do anything. So I opened the message, never prepared for what I was about to read.

“Hey, Y/N, it’s Noah. I know it’s been like forever since we’ve talked, but I came across your number, at least I hope it's still your number, and thought I would reach out to you and see how things have been. We're planning a trip home to visit some friends and family and it made me think of you. (Yes, some of us still consider you family). Did you ever move back once your dad got better or are you still living at the new place? I hope he’s better too by the way. You’ve been on my mind so much lately. I don’t know why. Maybe it's because Nicholas brought you up for the first time in so long when he played some chords to a Cure song. He seemed to have gone somewhere else while playing it. I think he might’ve been thinking about you. He smiled when he was done, and I swear I saw tears, but then got up and left the room before any of us could ask if he was okay. Anyway, I really hope this is still your number, but if not, well at least I tried. If it is, I hope you'll text me back soon, please 🙏.  

-Noah

“This is a horrible stupid idea,” I sighed, mentally screaming at myself for choosing to do this. After hours of debating and overthinking I replied to Noah's text. He kept his word and texted me a week later when they arrived, giving me the address to the air bnb they were staying. 

So here I was slowly driving down a street I didn’t know, searching for a house that was bigger and prettier than anything I’ve ever been in, and praying I didn’t throw up. 

“Holy shit,” I cried, stopping in front of a white three story country style house surrounded by some large oak trees and a massive porch that wrapped around most of the house. It was beautiful. 

There were other vehicles in the driveway so parking there was out of the question. I took it as a sign I should turn around and leave and was about to when my phone vibrated.

“Park anywhere”

-Noah

“Shit,” I huffed. Wait. Was Noah spying on me? I narrowed my eyes and stared out my windshield, looking for any sign of him and stopping when they rested on his tall lean figure waving at me from a window on the top floor of the house. 

“What the fuck, Sebastian, seriously,” grumbling as I parked the car by the curb. I sat with the engine still running, rubbing my temples in hopes to levitate the pounding headache I had due to stress and my tightly clenched jaw since leaving my house. Coming here was a really bad mistake and I was about to throw the car into drive and leave when a knock on my window startled me, causing me to jump. I looked up and saw Noah, smiling down at me with that same beautiful smile of his. It was contagious. I smiled back and took a deep breath as Noah opened the car door for me. I stood before him, taking in how much he’s changed in four years. “Your hair,” I breathed, surprised at how good short hair really did look good on him. “Yeah, look!” He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck. “I have a neck; who knew!” Noah’s eyes widened and he chuckled at his own joke, making me huff a small laugh, grinning.

“Holy shit, I can’t believe you really came. Come here, give me a hug,” he sang, holding his long arms out to me. I willingly fell into him and wrapped my arms around his waist, taking a deep breath once I laid my head on his chest. “I’ve fucking miss you, Y/N,” he confessed, resting his chin on the top of my head. “Life’s been crazy and so many things have changed, but you’ve never left my heart. I’m so sorry I never stayed in touch like I should have.” “No, don’t do that, Noah. It’s not your fault; it never was. It was never anyone's. Only mine. I made the choice to leave.” Noah pulled me back and looked at me, confused. “What do you mean it was your choice? Nick said he was the one who ended things.” I didn’t have time to respond when a familiar voice from the past came ringing out behind us, swallowing me up in a clenching grip.

My spine tingled, hell my whole body tingled as my heart began to race. My once calm  nerves were now making my hands shake and the tears I promised myself I wouldn’t show started to seep from my eyes as I clenched my teeth, trying to muffle my cry. “Noah, what are you doing? Who are you talking to?” Nicholas’s voice was like rain in a dry desert; the desert being my heart. It quenched every part, bringing every buried memory and feeling back to life again. “You didn’t tell him I was coming?” asking Noah softly. He looked from Nick to me, shaking his head. “Shit,” Noah cursed. “What?” I looked up and turned around, running straight into Nicholas’s chest. “Y/N?” He took my arms, holding me away from him. I couldn’t bring myself to look up at him, afraid that if I did I would shatter into a million pieces. “What the hell, Noah, why is Y/N here?” The tone in Nick’s voice made me think he was upset that I had shown up. I cursed myself for coming, for believing that enough time had passed between us. My breathing became erratic and I felt like I might pass out. “Y/N, hey are you good? You okay?” Slowly I shook my head. And then I broke. Like a dam backed up for centuries, the tears and all the pain I’d held in for years came rushing out, causing my knees to grow weak and making them buckle. Nick caught me just in time, slipping his arms underneath mine and pulling me into his chest. He smelled just as good as I remembered, but with more cologne and whatever it was drove my senses wild. I continued to cry and Nick continued to hold me, one arm tightly closed around me and the other caressing the back of my head. 

“Shhhh, love it’s alright. It’s okay.” Hearing my pet name fall from his lips and the sound of  his voice as soothing as before brought to me peace. “Noah, do you want to explain this?” I felt the deep rumble of Nick’s voice against my cheek as it laid against his chest. “No, not really. I think I’m just gonna go back inside. Bring her in when she’s ready, okay. I’ll explain then.” Just like that I found myself alone with the ghost of my past, only it wasn’t really a ghost at all. This time it was the real thing. 

“I don’t understand. What are you doing here, Y/N? How did you know we were here?” Nick didn’t let me go, but continued holding, making me feel the safest I’ve felt since the last time he held me. “I don’t either, Nick. I don’t know what I’m doing here.” I began to briefly explain everything that happened after Noah first reached out to me, never once looking at his face. If I did I would fall apart again.

“So you being here is all Noah's doing?” “Yeah, pretty much.” We were both silent as we stood there in the street holding each other. For a moment it felt like old times. “Hey.” Nick spoke softly, raising my head with a finger under my chin. I closed my eyes, refusing to look at him. “Do you hate me so much that you can’t even look at me?” “I don’t hate you Nick!” I shrieked, flinging my eyes open only to be met by his intensely heavy green orbs. “God, Nick,” I breathed, taking in his appearance, noticing all the little changes of maturity that graced his once younger face. “Four years looks incredible on you.” Nick’s eyes twinkled as they darted between mine. “I could say the same about you. You’re still just as beautiful as the last time I saw you.” His face instantly fell at the mention of that day. I quickly wiggled out of his grasp and took a step back, clearing my throat. Nick continued to gaze at me, but I could no longer keep eye contact. “I try not to think about that day,” I lied, crossing my arms. “Funny,” he said, coming closer to me. “That's all I can think about.” My eyes darted to his. “What?” “You don’t expect me to believe that, do you?” Nick scoffed. “I don’t care if you do or don’t. It doesn’t change that it’s the truth.”

My brows drew together, wondering how his confession could be true. “How come you didn’t stop me then? Why didn’t you come for me?” “Would it have changed your mind if I did?” He reached over and touched my face, dragging his calloused fingertips down my cheek. I briefly closed my eyes and took a deep breath, opening them as soon as I released it. “Y/N, your  mind was made up; you made your choice and I  wasn't it. What was I supposed to do?” Even then I could see how badly I’d hurt Nicholas. As soft and sweet as he was, he had somehow managed to harden himself to the cruelness of my choices. But that still didn’t change how the thought of him not fighting for me, for us, cut me like a thousand papercuts. “You could’ve at least tried Nick. My mind wasn’t in the best place then. I wasn’t capable of making the right choice, but I felt like I was forced to otherwise,”. I stopped, realizing Nick wasn’t following what I was trying to say.  “Otherwise what?” “You know what, never mind. Just forget it.” I dropped my arms to my sides and walked to my car, about to open the driver's door. Nick’s large hand came down on the corner of the door, baring it from opening. 

“I’ve never been very good at letting go, Y/N. I didn’t want to let you go. But the moment you came to me with that frightened, confused look in your eyes, I knew you were already gone. You’d already made your mind up about what was best for you and no matter what I said, it felt like you were looking for an excuse to leave. So, I let you.” Nick pressed his body against the back of mine, pinning me between him and the car. I wanted nothing more than to turn around, pull him into me, and kiss him like I was dying and he was the only thing keeping me alive. “I couldn’t imagine my life without you in it. You were my everything, Y/N; you promised to stay with me forever.” Tears were pouring down my cheeks and my shoulders shook as I wept. Nick laid his hands on them squeezing them slightly. “Everyday after you were in my head when you weren't supposed to be, haunting me, reminding me of everything I lost. And the worst part about all of it was I still loved you; I still fucking love you. I still fucking want you like nothing else and I hate myself for it. My life felt empty without you in it, but eventually I had to get used to it.”

I turned around, my lips almost meeting with Nick’s. I wanted him to kiss me in the worst way. I wanted him to grab me and ravage me like a starving animal. “I want to fucking kiss you so badly,” he confessed, as if reading my mind. He placed both hands on the car on either side of my head, leaning in until his lower body was pressed against me. There was no way out of this. I was cornered. “I wanna be inside you again, the only place where I felt love.” I groaned through tears and laid my head back against the car. Nicholas lowered his lips closer to my neck, running his nose along my skin. “I would’ve given anything to taste you again, Y/N, to feel your walls clench around my dick and the way your nails ran over my skin.” I could feel his hardness against my leg and I swallowed hard, trying to keep my composure. “But I couldn’t find you. You walked away and never looked back.” Nick backed up, tapping his fingers on the roof of the car. He stared at me. I saw all the different emotions running through him like the colors of the rainbow, confusing him in the worst way. “I’m so sorry Nick. I didn’t mean to hurt you. I was just trying to make it hurt less; for both of us.” “Yeah, well you did a pretty bang up job of it. You lied to me. It was so bad I began to wonder if you were lying to me all along since it was so easy for you to give up on us the way you did.”

His words stabbed me in the heart. “Look, I screwed up alright! I know I did.” I shoved Nick away, no longer able to deal with the hurt, the painful reminder of how I destroyed our love. “But I never once lied to you. I’ve done a lot of fucked up shit, Nick, but loving you was different. Loving you made me a better person. You made me a better person.” “Then why the fuck did you give up on us, Y/N! Why were you so quick to throw us away when the first storm hit?” “Because I was fucking scared, Nick! My dad was dying and my entire world was starting to fall apart. I thought that telling you we were over would’ve made walking away easier, but it didn’t. After I left I had hoped you would come for me, that you would fight for me and convince me that we were stronger than the storm, but you didn’t, Nick. You let me walk away and knowing that made me think you didn’t care as much as you said you did. So maybe you were the one lying.” Nick stood there wide-eyed and tense. He didn’t blink, allowing the tears to pool at the bottom of his eyes. “I had to finally come to accept the fact that you didn’t think we were worth fighting for which made these words hurt all the more,” raising my arm to show him the tattoo he marked me with all those years ago. Nick swallowed and finally blinked, letting the tears fall, but quickly brushed them away. He reached out and took my arm, running his thumb over the words. 

“However far away, I will always love you, however long I stay, I will always love you, Whatever words I say, I will always love you,” he read softly. “Yeah,” he hummed. “I guess we both lied then.” The ice in his tone was enough for me to know the truth. Our love was completely dead. Without looking at me again, Nick turned around and walked back towards the house. I could only stand there in shock, wondering what to do next. It was like I couldn’t breathe, the air around me suddenly too heavy for my lungs. “I didn’t mean to ruin your life Nick. I know I made a mistake and I own up to it, but so did you. You fucked it all up just as much as I did. When are you going to accept your part in letting us die? When are you going to admit you were wrong and take some of the blame off my shoulders?” Nick stopped and listened to what I was saying, but then as he continued walking towards the house my heart fell to the bottom of my stomach. I got in my car and left, stopping at the liquor store and buying the biggest bottle of rum they had.  

“Whatever words I say, I will always love. I will always love you.”

The next few days were hard. Feeling like I’d been injected with Novocain, a numbing feeling followed me everywhere I went and I felt comatose, never wanting to wake up and face reality again. The butterflies that had once fluttered and made me feel so in love had died, making the shattering of my heart breaking the loudest quiet ever.

I took a few days off from work, stayed home and did my best to get life together, but it didn’t go over so well at first. But after three straight days of screaming and crying, waking up still drunk, and passing out over the toilet, I managed to wake up sober, take a shower, and clean my apartment. I was on the road to recovery. 

I taped over the words on my arm, hiding the constant reminder of pain I no longer wanted to deal with. Instead of trying to face it anymore, I ran from it, burying it so deeply down inside me and forcing myself to feel indifferent about it. But those words were the last and only thing I had left of Nicholas and no matter how badly they hurt, they needed to stay. I deserved the punishment. 

Five days after my encounter with Nick, I sat down in my living room with my Chinese takeout and a handful of things to watch on Netflix. I chose quickly and snuggled into my blanket with great anticipation over the first bite of food. But before I could take that bite, the buzzer for the outside intercom rang, informing me that someone was looking for me. 

“Who the heck can that be,” mumbling to myself as I got up off the couch, adjusting  my sleepy shorts as I made my way over to the intercom. Completely irritated, I pressed the button. “Hello, can I help you?”... … … … “Hello?”.... … … … “Okay, look, if this is a joke,” “Y/N?” I gasped, throwing my hand over my mouth. “Nick?”.... I did my best to mask the surprised cry in my voice before pressing the button. “Nick, are you still there?”.... …. “Yeah,” he answered, his voice cracking. “Y/N, can I come up?” “Yeah, Yes! Absolutely, I’ll buzz you in.” I hit the button instantly, jumping over to the closest mirror to check my appearance. I looked fucking horrible, but I didn’t have any time to fix my face before there was a soft knock on the apartment door. I wasn’t prepared for this. I wasn’t ready to face Nick again. But I didn’t have a choice. Nervously,  I undid the locked bolt and opened the door, but when my eyes fell upon Nicholas, all of that nervousness faded.

“Holy shit you look beautiful,” Nick exclaimed, a different tone than days before.  The expression on his face was sincere, making my heart flutter, but I’d never felt more uncomfortable as I did standing there in my sleepy shorts, and a rough looking complexion. “You’re crazy,” admonishing him while resting my cheek on the side of the door. “Can I come in?” His green eyes twinkled at me  “Gosh, yeah, sorry,” I apologized, backing up to let him in. I caught the scent of his cologne as he walked by, and it hit my senses like a brick, making my heart beat even faster. “This is a really nice apartment. How long have you been here?” I closed the door, locking it behind me. “Um, about seven months, I think. I moved back about a year after my dad passed.” I crossed my arms over my chest, lowering my eyes away from Nick’s. “Fuck, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know,” Nick admitted, sympathetically. “Don’t be,” I assured him, shaking my head a little. “How could you?” “I don’t know,” he shrugged, giving me a lopsided grin. “It’s fine Nick, really. He went peacefully. That’s all that matters.” “Still, I should’ve been there.” There was deep regret in his voice. “How did you find out where I live?” I asked, drawing my brows together, narrowing my eyes. “Oh, Noah said you told him. ”Did I? If I did I didn’t remember. Nick looked around the apartment, eyes wandering over everything, but quickly stopped on something familiar on the wall nearest my bedroom.

Carefully making his way over, he stood before some pictures, eyes fixed on the images before him. His mouth twitched and he gave a half-smile. “There are so many,” his voice quivered, showing off just how nervous he really was. His hands were shoved deep into his pockets with his arms locked tight against his sides. “Where did you find them all?” I stood beside him, staring at the wall of my “Annabelle Lee” picture collection. “Some I printed and made myself, others I found online,” answering him sweety. I bit my lip, too apprehensive to tell him about my favorite two. “Y/N, this is awesome. It reminds me of that night in,” turning his head to face me only to find me already staring at him. We were transfixed instantly, staring at each other with the same longing and hunger as that day in the bookstore. He moved a little closer to me, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip before taking it between his teeth.

I clenched my jaw, trying to suppress the sexual tension that was quickly rising inside me. My body knew exactly how to respond to what my eyes were seeing Nick do, as that all too familiar arousal flooded my core and sent all the tingles to my toes. I crinkle my nose, earning a dark chuckle from Nick. I knew then that he knew exactly what he was doing. “Those are my favorite,” I blurted out, trying to distract him from the tension building between us. His eyes quickly shifted elsewhere as he turned to look at where I was pointing, narrowing his eyes to get a better look. “Are those,” he asked, suddenly roused for a different reason, pointing to the frames. I nodded, breathing nervously. “I bought the book before I left. I thought that maybe if I I had it, it would feel like I had some of you with me, and I wanted as much of that feeling as I could get. I still want that feeling.” The last part came out mumbled, and I hoped Nick didn’t hear it as I played nervously with my fingers, too scared to look up at him. After a long silence, Nick cleared his throat. “I know you hated me, Y/N, and I don’t blame you. I had to keep leaving when you needed me to be there to support you, love you through all that was happening with your dad. But it was all out of my hands. I was being pulled in two different directions, and I didn’t know what to do or how to handle it, so I did the best thing I knew how to do; close up and shut down. It wasn’t right; I know that. It wasn’t fair to you.”

I started to cry, feeling dreadfully guilty, and dropped my head in my hands and quietly sobbed until my hands were completely wet. “I didn’t hate you, Nick. I don’t hate you. I love you so freaking much. But loving you was slowly killing me. I did what I had to do to survive and that was to say goodbye even though I didn’t want to,” my voice faded as I finally looked at him. His expression was grave, the past eating away at his mind no doubt. “I never wanted to walk away from you Nick. I never wanted to give us up. Every night and day I was forced to fight my battles without you, pretending I was strong when I was really falling apart. Trying to explain to you what was happening became difficult because what I was going through couldn’t be seen, only felt. All I wanted was your arms. All I wanted was to see you to know that everything was going to be okay. But I couldn’t have that. And then the fucking pandemic hit and, well.” I took a breath, in hopes to calm myself. It felt so good to get it all off my chest, but at the same time I knew I was hurting Nicholas by throwing too much at him.  It was evident on his face.

I took a risk and reached out for his hand, sighing with relief when he took it and entangled his fingers with mine. “I took the easy way out, Nick, I know that. We could have saved us if only I had fought harder. But you want to know the worst part about it all?” Our eyes locked together. Nick clenched down hard, trying his best to keep his emotions closed, but I could see it in his eyes that he was starting to break. “You never came after me, Nick. You never tried to stop me, to convince me I was making the wrong choice. And because you didn’t it was enough to convince me that I wasn’t worth fighting for. That’s what broke me.” 

Nick squeezed his eyes closed, bringing his fingers up to dry them, while still clenching the other ones around mine. It was a death grip that I was so grateful for. 

Nick kept my eyes as he moved in closer until he couldn't resist the madness building up around us anymore. He looked down at me, muttering “fuck it” under his breath while his eyes were are on my lips. He moved so quickly I couldn’t keep track of his actions as his hands closed around my waist, pulling me into him.  The feeling of his thick hardness hot against my aching sex had me screaming inside for him to have his way with me, to do to me whatever he wanted as long as he knew I wanted him forever. And then he kissed me and it was the best kiss ever in my whole life. The way he pressed his hand to my shoulder blade to arch me into him, the way it started slowly, just his mouth on mine and his tongue begging for entrance. We stayed that way for a long time until I looped my arms around his neck. He shifted and shoved me up against the wall, leaning into me and pushing my thighs open to make space for himself until we were flush against each other. Soft whimpers fell from my lips as I absorbed Nicholas like a sponge, wanting absolutely ever part of him. His hard grunts and deep growls of satisfaction over the attention he was receiving was empowering and told me he wanted what was happening just as much as I did.

My heart was beating like a drum against his chest at the feeling of his hand trailing up the skin of my thigh and under the cotton of my sleepy shorts. They gave him the perfect advantage to claim what had been waiting for him the past few years. I moaned, grabbing his wrist before he went all the way. “What?” he asked breathlessly, eyes full of lust. I blinked a few times, making sure this was real, and relaxed the grip on his wrist. “I want what’s mine,” he demanded, voice deep and raspy. He kissed me again, slipping his hand behind my neck and pulling me in to get deeper. Arching my back, I thrusted my sex into the bulge between his legs, feeling the cold wetness of my juices soaking my panties. “I want to feel my fingers between your lips before I sink them so deep into your perfect little cunt that has always belonged to me and hear the way you sigh and let my name spill from your mouth.” Nick’s fingers skimmed my pussy, causing me to gasp and grab the front of his shirt between my clenched fists. His soft perfectly “v” shaped lips trailed up and down my neck as his tattooed touch between my folds made my knees weak and almost give out. “Oh, Nick, please,” I whined, pushing in on his shoulders. He pulled back, his eyes blazed with a fierce hunger. “Please what, Y/N? What do you want, love?”

Placing my hand over his, the one nearest my opening, I kept perfect eye contact with him as I guided his hand to where I desperately needed it to be. “This,” he affirmed, slipping two fingers at a time inside me. I sucked in a deep breath at the feeling, brazenly grinding down on him. “Fuck, Nick!” I cried out as he slowly pushed and pulled in and out of me. “That’s it baby girl, grind on my fingers. I can feel you, uh fuck yeah,” Nick encouraged me, burying his face in my neck. Picking up the pace, he held me tightly up against the wall, breaking apart every barrier I’d put up since the day I said good-bye to him. “Like that? Is that it? Is that the spot, love,” Nick urgently asked the louder I moaned the closer he got to my g-spot. I quickly nodded, furrowing my brows and bit my bottom lip, clasping my hand over his to feel the way he was fucking me with his fingers. “I’m addicted to the way you’ve always gotten wet for me, baby girl, the way I fill you and make you cum for me.” he praised me, pushing in harder and making me moan again. “Fucking hell, Nick,” I cried throwing my head back against the wall. “I want your cum on my fingers, love. I want it to drip down my hand.”

My cries grew louder the closer Nick brought me to my climax. I was a weakened mess for him. “Nick,” “Yeah, baby?” “I’m sorry I walked away. I’m sorry I said goodbye.” Tears seeped from my eyes. Nick slowed his pace inside me to wipe them away. “However far away, I will always love you, however long I stay, I will always love you, whatever words I say, I will always love you,” “I will always love you,” I echoed. He caressed my face and kissed me. “Nick, I need you inside me,” I whispered in his ear, feeling the deep rumble of his approval against my chest. Before I realized it, Nick had me in his arms, carrying me into my room and laying me on the bed. He undid the button on his jeans and unzipped, yanking them off and revealing his hardened cock, dripping with the silkiness of his pre-cum. I groaned in want as he slipped my shorts and panties off. Without a word, Nick spread my legs and positioned himself overtop me, and lined himself with my entrance. He rubbed his tip through the wetness of my folds, and slipped inside me, spreading me open for him. Pushing in and out sweetly but with the kind of aggression that always made me cry his name, I dug my nails into his tanned flesh, gripping his shoulders, holding him close. “Oh god, fucking, Y/N,” Nick groaned, instantly pounding into me at a brutal pace. “You’re still so fucking tight, love.” “There’s been nobody since you.”

He pushed himself up off my chest, looking down into my eyes for clarity. “What? Are you being serious?” I nodded slowly. “I didn’t want to forget your touch, the color in the feeling you always gave me. I wanted to hold on to it forever.” Nick groaned, lowering his forehead to mine. “And it’s okay if you didn’t do the same. I understand,” clarifying that I wasn’t angry. He began to move unhurried, taking his time to stretch open my inner walls and make as much room for him inside as he could. I sighed, moaning loudly at the feeling of having him inside me again. “I don’t fucking deserve you, Y/N,” Nick confessed, thrusting hard into me and grunting loudly. “Yes you do. We deserve each other. You’re the Poe to my Annebelle.” He gave me a wide smile before grabbing my leg and holding it against him, fucking into me in a new position that hit the very spot I’d been craving him to hit. “Right there Nick! Fuck! Don’t stop, baby!” “That’s it, right there? You’re gonna make me fucking cum if you keep screaming like that.” I made no attempt to mask my cries that quickly turned into slight shrills. “Fuck, love, keep crying for me baby girl, I’m almost there.” “Nick, I’m cum….,” I cried as my orgasim hit me like a tidal wave, exploding inside me and making me see stars. Nick shoved my shirt up to my throat before pulling out of me and spilling his seed all over my belly and between my breasts.

“Oh, holy shit,” Nick growled, milking himself until he knew he was empty, before rolling over onto his back. Finding my hand with his and entangling our fingers like he used to do, we laid there for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. Eventually, Nick cleaned me up, wiping off his mess before scooping me up and tucking me in under the blankets. “You’re staying aren’t you,” I asked sleepily, eyes already closed. I felt the bed dip and Nick's warm body slid into mine. “I’m already here,” he whispered, taking me into his arms. “And I promise I won’t leave. Ever,” kissing my hair. “Me too, Nick. I will always love you.” 

[bloodylullaby]

Give Me Something Beautiful

Summary: Morrigan's ordinary life takes an extraordinary turn when Noah Sebastian, the lead singer of Bad Omens, stumbles upon her quaint little shop adorned with her captivating photography. Intrigued by her talent and drawn to her genuine spirit, Noah invites Morrigan to capture the essence of his band's concert through her lens. Their initial friendship blossoms into a deep and meaningful connection as they spend time together, fueled by their shared love for art and music. Despite their challenges as their worlds collide, Morrigan and Noah navigate the complexities of fame and intimacy, ultimately finding solace and strength in each other's arms. Through their journey from strangers to lovers, they discover that amidst life's chaos, true beauty lies in the simple moments shared between two souls destined to be together.

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x OC

Content Warning: None

Word Count: 3178

MasterList

Tag List: @thescarlettvvitch @malerieee @lookwhatitcost @herbhuntress @thatgirlforever5 @xxkittenkissesxx @lma1986

Author's Note: This is a longer chapter, A whole ten pages!

Chapter Six

The bus hit a bump, jolting me awake. I sat up abruptly, smacking my head against the bunk ceiling. Groaning, I clutched my forehead in agony. I heard shuffling and a knock on the wall next to my head. “Are you okay in there Morrigan? It sounded like you hit something pretty hard,” Noah stated. I opened the curtain. As our eyes met, he spotted my hand cradling my forehead, and a chuckle escaped him. I squinted slightly at him, prompting a louder chuckle from him. "Would you like an ice pack?" he offered. 

I began to nod my head slightly, but the pain intensified, so I halted midway. "Yes, please," I gasped. He glanced at me with a hint of concern before heading to the small kitchen area. Within a few minutes, he returned, clutching the ice pack. He gently placed it on my forehead, holding it there for me. I murmured a thank you, attempting to push away my thoughts so I wouldn't blush in front of him. 

We eventually locked eyes, sharing a brief moment. "Is your forehead feeling better?" Noah asked in a murmur.

"Yes, thank you. I appreciate your help and concern," I replied softly. Noah gave me a small smile, and I returned it. As we continued to make eye contact, a moment of silent understanding passed between us. Before either of us could add to our conversation, Jolly came running back to us excitedly, utterly unaware of the subtle exchange Noah and I had shared. 

“There you are, sleepyhead! We’ve been waiting all day for you,” Jolly exclaimed. I looked at him, perplexed.

“What do you mean by 'all day'?” I asked, still confused.

“It’s two in the afternoon,” he laughed. I glanced at both of them in shock, then checked my phone, confirming what he said about the time.

“Oh wow, I didn’t realize I was so tired. When do we arrive at our next destination?” I asked sheepishly.

“We won’t get to the hotel until 8:30 - 9:00. Depends on our stops for food,” Noah smiled. I nodded in understanding, and then my stomach growled, drawing further attention to me. The boys laughed as I blushed. 

“We can stop for some food; let's go see what we can decide on,” Noah said with a smile. I nodded, following them to the front, joining Nick, Folio, and Bryan. Everyone greeted me with a smile as we sat down, Noah making sure I took the spot right next to him. After ten minutes of trying to figure out where to eat for a late lunch, we decided to go to Taco Bell. As we ate our food on the bus, I watched Nick and Bryan playing on the Switch on the TV while Noah sat to my left, engrossed in writing in a notebook.

As the journey continued, the afternoon sunlight softened, casting a warm glow through the bus windows. The chatter among us filled the air, blending with the engine's hum. Occasionally, Noah paused his writing to join the conversations, sharing anecdotes and laughter with the group. Outside, the scenery transitioned from urban landscapes to rolling hills and lush greenery as we approached our destination. The gentle sway of the bus and the rhythmic rumble of the road lulled some of us into a peaceful state while others remained engaged in their activities.

As the hours passed, the anticipation of reaching the hotel grew palpable. We exchanged stories, listened to music, and occasionally stole glances out the window, eagerly awaiting our arrival. Despite the fatigue from the journey, there was an undeniable sense of camaraderie and excitement among us as we continued our adventure together. I look at the time, and it's 8:00, giving me a sense of relief that we are almost to our destination. 

I lean next to Noah to ask him a question. “What is our destination, anyway?” I quietly ask him. He hums and looks up at me. 

He hums and looks up at me.

"Charlotte, North Carolina," he said with a smile before returning to his notebook. Excitement bubbles inside me; I've never been out of state before, and going to a big city is just as exciting.

"What are you doing over there, busy bee?" I asked Noah. A glint of amusement shines in his eye as he laughs.

"Writing down possible lyrics, thoughts, feelings. You know, all of what makes an artist an artist," he said with a smile while looking at me. As Noah returned his focus to his notebook, the conversation shifted to various topics, ranging from music preferences to upcoming plans for our trip and the tour. We shared stories and jokes, the atmosphere buzzing with camaraderie and anticipation.

The scenery gradually transformed outside the window, signifying our approach to our destination. Tall buildings began to dot the skyline, and the traffic thickened as we neared the city's heart. With each passing mile, the excitement in the air grew more palpable. We exchanged eager glances and shared smiles. Finally, we reached the hotel. Stretching, I was the first out of the bus, causing laughter to erupt as I jolted onto the pavement and looked around in awe. Eventually, The boys all filed out, joining my side. Nick threw an arm around both mine and Noah’s shoulders, giving a contented sigh.

"Now it’s time for hotel shenanigans," he proclaimed, sharing a glint of mischief with Noah. I giggled and went to get my bags from storage, but Noah beat me to it. He pulled out both my suitcases. I thanked him with a playful roll of my eyes, trying to hide the pink tint on my cheeks, and hurriedly grabbed my smaller bag from my bunk. Once I got everything in it, I walked back outside to see Nick carrying Noah’s and his suitcase, while Noah was adamant about holding both of mine.

Once checked in, we all headed to the third floor, where our rooms were. Nervousness was etched into my being. Noah seemed to notice as he nudged my elbow, mouthing if I was okay. I nodded at him and gave him my best smile, trying not to show my nervousness. It didn't work as he pulled me into a side hug, rubbing my arm reassuringly. Once we reached our floor, everyone received their keys from Noah, except me; he held onto mine as we watched everyone enter their rooms.

He turned to me and gave me an encouraging smile, leading the way down the hall to where I presumed our rooms were. "I made sure that our rooms were next to each other in case you feel overwhelmed or need a friend. I'll be just next door," he said with a warm smile. Feeling touched by Noah's thoughtfulness, I smiled gratefully and nodded. As we reached our rooms, Noah first unlocked the door to his room and then mine. Stepping inside, I found the room cozy and welcoming, with a comfortable bed and soft lighting.

"We are all planning to use the pool in half an hour. Would you like to join us?" he asks softly.

I look up at him and smile. "Yes, I would love to," I said softly.

"Awesome, I’ll come grab you, and we can both walk down together then," he said before hugging me and leaving me to his room. Alone in my room, I took a moment to unpack and settle in, grateful for Noah's presence and our bond. With a contented sigh, I unpacked my blanket and stuffed animal and grabbed my swimwear. I felt a little nervous about wearing it around the boys since this would be the first time I had ever been in a swimsuit around any of them. I knew they didn’t care, but it was still nerve-wracking.

With my 30-minute downtime, once I got dressed, I decided to do what I thought was best: unpack one of my books and start reading. Being so engrossed in my book, the time flew by, and I jumped when I heard Noah knocking on the door. Grabbing a towel, I opened the door and came face-to-face with a bare-chested Noah. We made eye contact, causing me to blush and look away slightly. I could have sworn that he did a quick once-over on me, making me even more nervous. After a brief eye contact, Noah smiled warmly and gestured for me to join him. I quickly composed myself and followed him out of the room, trying to shake off the nervousness from our encounter at the door. 

As we made our way to the hotel pool, Noah engaged me in light conversation, helping to ease my nerves. The laughter and splashing grew louder as we approached the pool area, indicating that the others were already enjoying themselves. Folio is having a cannonball competition with Jolly While Nick and Bryan chill out in the hot tub, having what looks like a deep conversation. 

"Any preference on what we do?" Noah inquires, glancing around. As I observe Nick and Bryan departing for the pool to join the others, I suggest, 

"I'm leaning towards the hot tub, but if you’d rather join the guys in the pool, feel free." My smile reassures him. Noah shakes his head with a smile and gently takes hold of my wrist, leading me to the hot tub. He settled into the hot tub first and extended his hand, graciously offering assistance as I joined him. I accepted his gesture with gratitude, slipping into the water beside him. Ensuring our backs were turned to the boys, he positioned himself closely to me. As we adjusted to our seats, I noticed snickering from the boys. Curious, I turned my head to see them staring and whispering. It wasn't until Nick caught my gaze that he initiated a playful splash war by dousing the others with water.

Giggling, I redirect my focus to Noah and me. He meets my gaze with a curious expression before smiling and casually draping his arm behind me. Taking a deep breath, I lean back, fully surrendering to the tranquil atmosphere and letting myself relax entirely. Noah nudges me gently, prompting me to open one eye and glance at him, humming in response. 

After nudging you, Noah leans closer, a mischievous glint in his eye. "You know," he starts, "we could always challenge those guys to a splash war of our own. What do you say?" he suggests with a playful grin, inviting you to join in the fun. After a moment of contemplating, I agreed. Looking around, I spotted a water toy chest and nodded my head in its direction to Noah. 

Excitedly, Noah nods in agreement, his grin widening. Following your gaze, he notices the water toy chest and nods back, understanding your plan. Together, you both make your way over to the chest, eager to arm yourselves for the impending splash war. With a triumphant grin, Noah and I grab a water gun from the chest, feeling ready for the upcoming battle. Noah gives me a playful wink before we both stealthily return to our positions in the hot tub, prepared to unleash a torrent of watery retaliation upon the unsuspecting boys.

Thankfully, the boys remain so preoccupied with each other that they don’t notice any movement from either of us. "Who are you aiming for first?" Noah asks a mischievous glint in his eye.

"Oh, definitely, Jolly. You?" I reply with a smile, already anticipating the playful chaos about to unfold.

"Nick, for sure, deserves it for earlier," Noah stated confidently. I couldn't help but look at him curiously, but he refused to meet my gaze. A slight blush seemed to form on his cheeks, adding a hint of mystery to his playful declaration. Suddenly, I changed my mind and playfully squirted Noah with the water gun, catching him off guard. "What was that for?" he asks, laughing.

"Just because," I state with a mischievous grin. He chuckles in response, and we both refocus on it. With synchronized precision, we count down from three and leap out of the hot tub, letting out a spirited war cry as we charge toward the unsuspecting boys. I target Jolly, practically drenching him with the water gun until he's almost swimming in the splash. Meanwhile, Noah aims at Nick, soaking him and focusing his onslaught on his face with a mischievous grin. The laughter echoes around us as the splash war intensifies, each of us fully embracing the playful chaos of the moment. The impending splash war, ready to unleash our watery vengeance on the unsuspecting targets. 

As I drench Jolly with the water gun, he retaliates by lunging out of the pool and tackling me, sending us both into the water with a resounding splash. Emerging from the pool, I burst into laughter, gasping for breath as the hilarity of the moment overtakes me. Through the shimmering water, I catch sight of Noah's quick escape, diving into the pool to evade Nick's retaliatory onslaught. The scene is a whirlwind of laughter and splashing, each of us fully immersed in the joyous chaos of the splash war.

Feeling a sudden brush against my legs, I tense momentarily before Noah breaks through the surface beside me, laughing. Before I can react, he playfully grabs hold of me and pushes me underwater, eliciting a cascade of bubbles and laughter. When I resurface, I seize the opportunity for retaliation, attempting to jump on his back and return the favor. However, Noah proves to be stronger than anticipated, and despite my best efforts, he remains steadfast, barely budging under my weight. We both dissolve into laughter.

After half an hour of horseplay, I find myself thoroughly worn out and needing rest. Making my way to one of the poolside chairs, I collapse onto it, feeling the warmth of the indoor pool seeping into my tired muscles. Stretching out, I close my eyes, relishing in the soothing sensation as I fully unwind and relax. The sounds of laughter and splashing still echo in the background, but I simply bask in the moment's tranquility.

Feeling the poolside chair shift slightly, I open my eyes to see Jolly settling in next to me, a friendly smile on his face. "Hey there," he greets me warmly, his voice carrying over the sounds of the pool. "Mind if I join you for a chat?" he asks, his tone inviting and amiable. I nod in response, welcoming the company as we settle into a comfortable conversation, the warmth of the indoor pool creating a cozy backdrop to our exchange.

"Not at all; I would love to talk with you," I responded with a friendly smile, appreciating the opportunity for some relaxed conversation amidst the lively atmosphere of the pool. Time seemed to slip away as we chatted, and our conversation flowed effortlessly from one topic to the next. From sharing our favorite TV shows to delving into deeper discussions about our deepest fears, we opened up to each other more and more. Our friendship grew more robust with each exchange, forging a more profound connection that transcends the casual setting of the poolside conversation—m—moments like these, filled with genuine connection and understanding, made friendships special.

I felt excitement as I reflected on our conversation, the budding friendship with Jolly, and the already strong bond with Noah. It was comforting to realize that I was finding genuine connections with others amidst the newness and unfamiliarity of being away from home. The thought of having Jolly as a close friend, alongside Noah, brought a sense of warmth and belonging that made the distance from home feel a little less daunting. Being with this group, sharing laughs and conversations, was already starting to feel like a home away from home.

As the hour passed, the rest of the boys gradually followed suit, joining Jolly and me at the chairs. Noah took the spot on my other side, stretching out lazily as he settled in. With a casual glance, he looked at me, his expression relaxed. "Are you doing okay over there?" I asked in a lazy tone, mirroring his relaxed demeanor.

"Yeah," I began, a smile tugging at my lips. "I'm having a lot of fun tonight. Thank you for bringing me down with you, Noah." He returned the smile, a warm glint in his eyes, before settling back into his relaxed position. Returning to my conversation with Jolly, I immersed myself in the easy flow of discussion. Occasionally, Noah's hand would brush against mine, a silent reassurance that he was still there, checking in to ensure I was doing okay.

As the night drew to a close, everyone eventually returned to their rooms, leaving Noah and me alone as we headed towards ours. Along the way, I couldn't help but notice Noah stealing glances in my direction every other second. Each time, I found myself smiling, appreciating how he was subtly checking up on me, even in the quiet moments of our journey back. The simple yet meaningful gesture spoke volumes about his thoughtfulness and care.

Pausing at my door, Noah and I exchanged a smile, a silent acknowledgment of the bond we had formed throughout the evening. In that moment, amidst the quiet hallway, our shared smiles spoke volumes, conveying a sense of companionship and understanding that didn't need words to be expressed "We're going to have an early day tomorrow again," Noah started with an apologetic look.

"Okay, that's fine. What time do I need to get up?" I asked, mentally preparing for the early start.

"We'll get up at six, try to have breakfast by seven at the latest, and then be out the doors," he replied, outlining the plan for the next day. I nod my head, showing my understanding. "Would you like me to do a wake-up knock on your door? I tend to have to do it with Bryan and Folio most times," Noah asked, his warm smile reassuring.

"Yes, please, I would appreciate that," I replied gratefully, thankful for his thoughtfulness. It was comforting to know he was looking out for me, even in the small details of our morning routine.

"Alright, sounds like a plan," Noah said, his voice tinged with warmth. We stood there, facing each other, almost hesitant to part ways. "Is it okay if I hug you?" he asked sheepishly. I nodded, a soft smile playing on my lips, and leaned in for the embrace. Noah enveloped me in a bear hug, and we lingered there, wrapped in each other's arms, the moment stretching into what felt like a couple of minutes. It was a simple gesture, yet I felt a sense of comfort and connection that was truly special in that embrace.

We pulled away from the hug, blushing like there was no tomorrow. "I'll see you tomorrow," Noah said, his voice filled with warmth.

"See you tomorrow," I replied warmly, anticipating the day ahead. As Noah headed to his room, I watched him go, grateful for our connection.

[esta-elavaris]

Prologue [771 words]

Jane Eyre inspired Aemond Targaryen fic (except there's no wife in the attic - only Vizzy T and his miniatures) -- I've been meaning to write this for ages and now with the new season around the corner my brain said it is time.

It's not on AO3 for now but I do have a whole load of other fics over there!

Let me know if you wanna be tagged when I update this 💜

Brambles tore through her sleeves, and then her arms, as Jeyne tumbled to the ground. The shadow above took an impossibly long while to pass – but Vhagar was the largest dragon living, and the fear that seized her drew out the seconds into eternities. Was it that same fear, she wondered, that had her thinking she could even hear her name, cried out into the wind? It had to be. He had no cause to call for her that way…nor at all. The last time he’d spoken to her – the last time she knew for a fact that she’d heard his voice – he made that more than clear.

“What did you expect? That we’d marry? That you’d carry my heirs? You? A servant? One of your birth would hardly be fit to have my bastards, should I have been so foolish as to spawn any.”

He hadn’t looked at her, as he said it. No, his eye had been fixed steadily – coldly – on the wall behind her head. That fact had given her the strength to ask what she did.

“Why are you saying this? Why are you talking like this, Aemond? I thought…you said…you don’t mean-”

At that, he had looked at her, violet eye steely, wide with outrage that she would dare disagree with him.

“You forget yourself,” he’d sneered. “Along with how one of your birth should refer to a prince.”

And there had been such disdain in his face, so much that it seeped into his voice, that her blood ran cold and she felt sick to her stomach, blinking hard against the tears that stung her eyes. That look left her without doubt as to what she was hearing. Most of all, it left her mortified that she was even surprised.

Jeyne had not been able to feel her legs as she sank into a curtsey and managed to force out a strained, reedy forgive me, your grace, her eyes downcast.

“You’re dismissed. I’m sure my sister can find some use for you – I myself cannot.”

That was it. Those were the last words Prince Aemond Targaryen had spoken to her. The last ones he would ever speak to her. Nothing within them could leave any room for misunderstanding, even had Jeyne been the fool he’d treated her as. And while she was much – obscure, plain, and little, all at once – she was no halfwit. A halfwit would have remained in the Red Keep thereafter.

No, by now the Princess Helaena would have found her parting letter, and if any were looking for her, they’d look to the Kingsroad – northwards, where she’d come from, long before she was called to King’s Landing. Not among the brambles, aimless through a wilderness that would lead to either the Reach, or to death. She cared not which. But it had been days, now, with water only when luck graced her, and food not at all. It was becoming clear what possibility was the more likely.

Senses heightened by hunger, the cold of the evening bit at her fingers as she dug them into the dirt as if clinging to the ground would help her further escape notice. It gave her something, anything, to cling to, at least. And Vhagar was as like to spot a mouse as she was to spot her, all the way up there.

I myself cannot…

You forget yourself…

What did you expect?

The three parts that had hurt the most to hear – the ones that drove the blade deeper and deeper into her chest until it threatened to pierce through to her back – were the ones that she replayed in her head, over and over. It was a willing exercise, not quite because she hoped that repeating them would remove their edge, but because he’d been right. What had she expected? To anticipate it ending any way other than precisely how it had ended was the height of stupidity.

Perhaps she was a halfwit, after all.

A long while had passed, and the rush of Vhagar’s wings was well out of earshot, when it even occurred to her that she should move. She could no longer feel the cold – a fact that she dully acknowledged was dangerous in the back of her mind, but could find little energy to care about.

She would move in a moment. A few minutes. She just needed to collect herself first –  and to be sure that he was truly gone. That tactic made the most sense. No doubt the feeling would soon return to her limbs, and she could continue.

By the time she heard footfalls drawing near, it didn’t even occur to her to open her eyes.

[maladaptive-ninja-returns]

New World (8)

Itachi Uchiha x Reader Fluff

Summary: The world War has met its end and Itachi has returned to his village. He questions whether he should set down his roots here when he meets a stranger. Or rather, a stranger is forced upon him by fate.

Warnings: horny babygirls

Word Count: Your girls got horny writing this. I can't remember the last time I gushed like this. ALso Every fanfic reader/writers nightmare in one chapter

MASTERLIST in bio, darlings. Tags are open (check bio)

"What the hell is this?" You whisper to yourself, standing alone in the dressing room with the most intricate Sakura painting on the paper walls, lit up by the lanterns kept in two corners. The night robe you have been given has too much flare. The fabric of the red night dress is soft to the touch and breathable. But the robe that comes over it has practically been doused in fur not letting any cold air pass through. But the reason behind your cussing has less to do with that warm robe than with the fact that your underwear is nowhere to be seen. The night dress does run down to your knees but the thought of not being in your panties and having to sleep in the enemy territory for the night makes you uncomfortable. Not to mention the constant dreadful feeling of being watched by Toge from some corner of this village. With one stretched sigh, you leave the dressing room. The bedroom awaits you with a bed decorated with the local pink rose petals and towel swans.

A little thread inside you snaps on inhaling the overpowering smell of the roses and incense. You stomp to the corner of the bed, take the white bedsheet, pull out all four corners to wrap the roses inside them and throw them outside the huge window overlooking the village before closing it shut.

Just once you want to take an easy breath on this mission. Just once. And that too seems hard to get. Especially with him around, your inner voice whispers. You do not want your thoughts to go that way, but this little devil inside you smirks and struts towards some extraordinarily shady corners in your mind. Quiet, you tell your inner voice, he makes me feel safe, shushing it as if it has spoken something outrageous. Safe enough for you to imagine yourself all over his skin. She whispers the last few words with a stressed honey-filled whisper of a moan. And with that, that image of his naked torso in the hot springs flashes in front of your eyes. Your teeth involuntarily biting down on your lips to get a hold of the reality before those outrageously defined thoughts go too far. The sliding of your bedroom door jolts you awake from your fantasy world and makes you turn around to see the familiar tall figure bow down a little to enter the room without hitting his head on the door frame.

"I brought blankets," Itachi declares with the heavy elk fur blankets looking like they weigh nothing to the man. Itachi is wearing a black fur robe which appears to be his night gown. His chest is bare and so are his ankles. His hair is loose and wet from a fresh wash and you are starting to regret having dark back alleys in your mind. The room now starts to feel small in his presence; a presence which feels positively heavy. Keeping the blankets on the bed, he moves his hand to run back those wet strands away from his face. "I feel like we should ask the village Chief to hold their...uh...ritual...ceremony...what all they call it...today-tonight. Right now." Your staggered voice is not helping your case as your eyes run up from his elbows to his arms, drawing some sketchy scenes inside your head. "Do not push yourself, Y/N-san. You need to rest." It's not your fault. It's not your fault. A voice keeps repeating that inside your head. It's the way he says your name. You do not realise when your body is flushed, sweat droplets form at your temples and the back of your neck. Itachi pauses momentarily beside the bed while you blink blankly at him. He looks at you for a second before moving again. "Let me check for any traps in the room." You nod and press yourself close to the window and out of his way. As he takes careful feline steps along the length of the room, your eyes focus on his fingers brushing against the oakwood dresser kept by the wall, your throat takes an unpreventable gulp. The source of light in this room is the oil lamps burning in the corners to give this room a pinkish hue, thanks to the Sakura theme. The only light brighter than that is the golden hues of the bonfire lit on the temple grounds across the hill. He touches the wall to discover anything unusual, his steps bringing him closer to you. His dominant hand wraps itself around the jug of alcohol to raise it closer to his face and your eyes cannot help but follow the nimble pale fingers morphing into an abstract art of popping veins down the wrist. His lips touch the jug, taking in a sip that glides down his throat. The soft golden fiery hues lighting up his features just enough in the dark are not helping your conscience in her dark alley. At all. His brows furrow momentarily, making you wonder if something is wrong with the drink. And the next second he is choking on it, his hand nearly slipping the jug and a decent bit of that alcohol spilling on his robe.

"Itachi-san! Are you okay?" You quickly grab the hand towels on the dresser behind you and dash towards him; that is what you think you do till his hand rises to make you pause right where you have been standing. Itachi coughs a bit before clearing his throat. His back straightens up and he nods. "I'm fine. The drink is...well, I've tasted better." Of course, you have. You still stand in your spot, but your hand stretches to hand him a towel. He takes it to wipe his mouth before his wet robe takes up his attention. A huge sigh leaves his lungs. "Pardon me," he declares in a low hum as his fingers undo the knot on his robe and his shoulders flex themselves to let the fabric glide off his back. Your breath is caught in your throat till you realise he is wearing white trousers underneath. Itachi folds the fabric when something catches his eye. Watching him step away from you and towards the bed sinks your heart. He stops at the edge of the bed and gets on his knees. Itachi wastes no time being on all fours and crawling just a few inches underneath the space, looking for something. On the other hand, you are glaring at his other arm that acts as his anchor, his robe between his fingers; the fingers gripping the fabric till he has found what he is looking for. And when he comes back to sit on his knees, you exhale a little, grabbing onto the window sill as your legs cross over each other and you try your best to look away from the pink-shaded abs teasing you from the distance. His hand has brought out a red cloth from underneath the bed. The cloth shines with a silken finish in his hands as he twists the fabric in one hand, wrapping it up neatly. "Don't touch this," he announces, tucking the fabric in his trouser's back pocket. "Yes, sir," you whisper without realising. And immediately regretting it. Itachi must have not heard it, for he gets up and walks past you to the other side of the room, leaving you to ravel in his natural redolence. The lone table at the other end of the room is graced by his hands on either side, curious if it can be pulled away from the wall. His arms are flexing, and so are the muscles on his back as he tries to pull the table towards him, his hips feeling the tethered force of the measle piece of furniture, forcing a low grunt to escape. Your left hand is clawing its nails into the window frame while your right thumb is being bit under your teeth with all your might. Get out of that alley, you are panting at your conscience. Please. Please. Please! The table is torn from the wall and thrown into the paper wall covering the dressing room. The remaining wood in the indents of the wall reveals two black bricks. The former assassin quickly picks one in each hand and turns to walk towards you. "Open the window," he commands in a low tone. You religiously move your hands to open the latches. Even before you are done pushing the window frames out, you feel his arms come over from behind you and throw out the bricks from either side. You turn around, calculating the proximity between you and his chest. While he is busy frowning out the window at what was possibly an attempt to poison you two, your eyes go up to land on his jaw, studying the skin, the texture, the turns; a little too well. The sound of splintering wood brings you out of the trance. Itachi's bare hands have broken the frame of the window behind you and instead of tending to the wound where a splinter has gashed through the skin of his hand, he is looking at you with the intensity of a thousand suns. Only this time you are concentrating on his wound. "You're hurt-" "I need to go," Itachi declares, taking the ripped frame with him and walking out of the door, leaving you confused. Lustful and confused.

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

"You go in. I'll survey the surroundings here," Kakashi announces, disappearing into the night before Itachi can say anything about being handed the elk fur blankets. You are the only person present in the wing at this moment and he has his senses on high alert. Higher than usual. I do not trust the men here, he justifies in his internal monologue, pausing his quiet steps outside the door as he is flashed with memories of his bare chest in the hot springs. His mind has paused all the calculations now. It is purely curious now. And with that intention, he enters the room, declaring his presence. Keeping the blankets on the bed, he moves his wet hair away from his face to appear a little decent in front of you. "I feel like we should ask the village Chief to hold their...uh...ritual...ceremony...what all they call it...today-tonight. Right now." 

He can hear you. Loud and clear. But his mind is showing him his exposed arm pressing onto a thigh. He pauses. Must be some third-grade trickery by the village assassins, he thinks to himself. "Do not push yourself, Y/N-san. You need to rest." It's not your fault, he can hear the words being whispered somewhere. It's not your fault, they are echoing. With a voice too familiar to him these days. It's the way he says your name. It's you. It's your voice. And accompanied by your voice are flashes of sweat droplets running down from your temples, travelling your jaw to hurry down your neck. Itachi pauses, questioning how you are doing that. You are not, he answers the question himself and looks at you for a second to grasp any traces of Gen Jutsu around you. "Let me check for any traps in the room," he announces before moving to the nearest wall. When he brushes his fingers against the oakwood dresser, the flash comes again. This time, not as hazy as before. His fingers seem to be running over a bare abdomen, creating ripples of goosebumps. This time he can feel the skin under his fingertips and a familiar aroma in his nostrils. He moves his hand away from the table to the wall, investigating for anything out of the ordinary; that is, apart from the twisted psych attacks- if one can call them that. He can hear your heart beat faster as the distance between you closes. He pauses at the table between you two, reaching for the jug of alcohol kept on the table. The flashes come again when he raises the jug to his mouth. This time, his hand is gripping a neck, bringing it closer to him. He can smell that aroma again, this time the touch is heated and the neck is flushed. And his lips- which were reaching for the alcohol mere seconds ago- are kissing yours. When the kiss has deepened to the point of you moaning and his tongue wanting to taste your mouth, he realises the twisted reality, surprising himself into choking on the drink and spilling some onto his robe.

He hears you worry, making him raise his hand to stop you from coming any closer. "I'm fine," he coughs, apologising for his ungentlemanly behaviour. He takes the towel you offer, not able to get that image out of his mind. Itachi's instincts are riled up, his mind working ten steps ahead, ready to test the waters all the while making sure he does not cross any lines. He begs your pardon as he gets out of the wet robe. There is that aroma again. Your scent. Covering him all over. If it's the scent then there has to be- His thoughts trail off as he finally finds what he is looking for. He walks to the side of the bed and gets on his knees, to reach for the red fabric resting under the bed space. The talisman. Just when he grabs it, flashes of him gripping the silk sheets on the bed run through his mind. But that is not all. He can see his naked back clear as day, even that moles, and he can see you laying between him and the sheets looking up at him with a want. He is panting for breaths, and so are you. He can feel the drops of sweat run down his chest while he is devouring the view of your breasts glistening. Even as he comes back to sit on his knees, he can feel his hand run the length of your thighs, with your legs wrapped around his waist. The flash disappears, but the sensations remain in his mind. He seems to know what is going on but does not say. His hands work on folding the fabric and keeping it somewhere away from you. "Don't touch this," he declares as he puts the fabric in his pocket. "Yes sir," he can hear the microscopic stagger of your heated exhale in that whisper and the fog of that flash bring the sensation of a hand run over his butt. His mind curses. He does not remember the last time he cursed like this. Or that last time he felt so...filthy. But rip it in the bud, he grows internally to himself before getting up and walking to the last place that seemed suspicious- the table lodged into the wall on the other side of the room. He grabs the edges on either side to move it away from the wall, wanting the flashes to stop. To stop or else... The frustration shows externally when a grunt escapes him at the failed pull. And so it comes again.

This time you are on the table, your legs wrapped around his waist and your nails digging into his back. His flawless butt is exposed to the room as it jiggles with him sloppily rutting into you with the familiar grunts, bringing periodic coarse moans out of you. Please. He hears your voice. And he can see your face. He can see your body moving every time he pushes into you. Your eyes are tearing up. Your mouth is open wide at the edge of pleasure. Please, you beg again, this time urgently. Itachi feels his pace rush as if his body is running on your commands. Please! That moan of yours is turning into a growl as your head falls back at the peak of your climax. And before he can reach his, the table is torn away from the wall to be thrown away, bringing him back to his reality. And there they are, resting in the nook hidden in the wall- black brick-shaped gemstones. They are still hot when Itachi grabs them and orders you to open the window. Just as your hands have pushed the panes away, he throws the stones out, down the hill. He only breathes once he has heard them crash into pieces against the rocks underneath, resting one hand on the window frame. But they come again. This time with the touch of your fingers on his jaw, lazily running down his neck before he feels your teeth dig into his skin right where his jaw meets his neck. He snaps. At least that is what he thinks he did. It is the window frame that has been snapped instead. And all he can do is look at you; your eyes with no unadulterated intentions behind them as they worry about the blood that is not yours. "I need to go." He knows if he stays a second longer, he might do something there will be no coming back from. Rushing out the door bare-chested, he is already running into Kakashi in the corridor. For the first time in his life, Itachi seems the situation- that heavily involves him- requires an explanation.  "There's-" "Geisha's Opals inside? From the smell I could guess there were two stones." Kakashi seems to have figured it out. "I waking the chief up to prepare the ritual." Itachi nods. He wants to say something more but all he can do is inhale a lungful. "She doesn't realise her thoughts are more graphic than the latest volume of my favourite Icha Icha Paradise novels," Kakashi exhales, visibly tired. "You could see them-" "The burned Opals along with a rose incense are powerful aphrodisiacs," Kakashi explains with his hands as if he was having a casual conversation with his colleague, "combine that with her empath skills, she created an atomic flash of...well..." he gestures vaguely at everything and then at Itachi. "Dress up, let's just get this over with," Kakashi admits before disappearing into the night again, leaving Itachi to make peace with the fact that the Konoha village's Silver Fang saw everything. Every. Single. Flash.

[quotidian-oblivion]

Not-Yet-Written Fic Game

Tagged by @chemical-processes!! Thank you so much for tagging meeee. Especially in writer games, i love them <3

Post about some of the fics you plan on writing

I'm gonna do both batfam and Merlin for this one. You can put down any number of wips. I have so many, but I think I'll choose 10 😅 Feel free to ask about any of them!!! I'd love that ^^

No pressure tags: @sardonic-sprite @igotthisaccountunderduress @pericreatesstuff @foursixtwonineoh-pieces-of-lego @foineswoine-writing

@uncertainwallflower @cygnusdoesthings @blightwritesfic @wakkoroni

A Dance Across the Stream [BBC Merlin]

A slave!Arthur fic where I really pump up the angst. Arthur has been a slave for so long that people are starting to lose hope that he's even alive. His slavers decide to auction him since his past status, health and general looks will get them a pretty penny. He's collared by magic that hurts him if he doesn't listen to his masters' orders. As he stares down blankly at the faces and hands rising eagerly to buy a slaved prince, he hears a voice-

"Twelve hundred and thirty gold pieces!"

For the first time in months, Arthur dares to raise his head. Because he knows that voice. Has heard it incessantly rabbiting on, talking his ear off several times a day before his capture.

But it can't be him. It can't be Merlin. Because the bid for him was only open to sorcerers. And Merlin can't be a sorcerer.

2. Let Me Die, Let Me Drown, Lay My Bones In the Ground [BBC Merlin]

(I'm cheating a little bit cuz this is actually written but) My first fic where I really unleash my angst weapons. I wanted to test my limits. And I did.

The storm that had passed through Albion didn't only bring devestation, it brought a party belonging to the king, queen and princess of a distant land on the edge of Albion's maps. As per propriety and courtesy, Camelot was required to hold a feast and provide accommodation for them. The feast started off smoothly, the royals of Camelot getting along quite well with the royals from Harden.

But a single questioned changed everything. Including the destiny of Arthur and Merlin.

"What are your stances on magic?" Uther asked.

3. Doesn't have a name yet, but the wip doc is named 'My Limits Tested Through Merlin' [BBC Merlin]

While writing LMDLMD (the above fic), I discovered that the angst I put in there was not actually my full limit. I could push further. I could write worse. So I started this multichap wip. And it's going splendidly. Honestly, this fic is such a good jar to add my inner demons to. And I decided to work in some foreshadowing, juxtaposition, symbolism and all that lovely fun literary devices stuff because I found that I actually enjoy that process. So this might just be my best mutlichap fic yet!

Summary: That the kingdom they traveled to was peaceful was a lie. That the king was a good and fair man was also a lie. That Merlin, Arthur, and the Knights of the Round Table would be safe was the biggest lie of all. 

As Merlin scrubs the floor beneath the king's feet, despite the pains and bruises on his body, he wonders if escape will also be a lie. 

4. Empire For Two [BBC Merlin]

Part two of a two-part series. I've finished writing the outline and currently it's standing at 50 chapters, but as it gets written it might increase. Since it's MASSIVE and too much for me to take on alone, my lovely fwens Joan (@tireddruid) and Tristi are helping me with it! Joan's alpha and beta-ing while Tristi's gonna be a co-writer. For once, I'm not gonna start posting after it's written, but post as we write each chapter.

A Golden Age AU where I fix the fucking show.

5. Tim gets de-ages to a toddler fic [DC]

I've finished the outline for this too and it's currently standing at 21 chapters and I've already written 2. @mispeltnostalgia is beta-ing it ^^ And it's angsty. And fluffy! Majority of it is fluffy! But the angst at the end and major character death tag kind of overshadows the 19 chapters of fluff 😅 I also do a character study of Jason here. It's very enlightening.

Inspired by the very first fanfic I ever read (by choice) and Tim gets de-aged to a toddler because of a mistake Jason made. Jason's bonds with the family is already fragile and this mistake might just drive a further wedge between him and them. So he keeps the mistake a secret.

But the fact Tim is a toddler isn't. The batfam try their hardest to look after Tim while trying to find a way to age him back. Tim's an adorable kid but... there are warning signs. Too many warning signs. It makes everyone question just how well they had known Tim and his personal life.

For some reason, the toddler seems attached to Jason. And surprisingly, Jason seems to go actually well when dealing with him.

But after an explosive fight between Jason and the rest of the family, when Alfred opens the doors to the bedrooms, he finds both the toddler and the crime lord gone.

6. I Quit (not the actual fic name, just a wip name) [DC]

It started with a crack-genre scene where Tim accidentally resigns being Robin over the phone.

It quickly escalated to Tim running from the Bats, trying to cure Jason of his Pit Madness, and raising a 10-year-old assassin Damian when Talia mistakenly dumped the kid on him. Fully outlined, 19 chapters, I'm probably gonna start writing this soon.

7. Found Him [DC]

Not a multichap fic but a series with oneshots and twoshots and threeshots! Why? Because I was lazy and didn't bother with filling chapters. Why? Cuz I wanted to get to the action bits. Why?

Because this, my friends, is an evil!Tim Drake AU >:)

Tim wakes up in Titans Tower before Bruce and Dick can show up. He wakes up and all he sees is blood.

His blood.

He is in excruciating pain, but for some cruel reason, he can still think and feel clearly. His mind is not a haze, he has all his memories and he is very well aware of the carnage that has been made out of his body. Very well aware of the person who created the carnage out of his body.

In a Red Robin #4-esque style, Tim crawls out and sloppily secures the wounds that bleed the most, then grabs a bike and collapses in the middle of the road. The emergency services think he's a normal civilian boy since Tim had torn his Robin uniform and had ridden out in the blacks underneath. They manage to save his life but the damage was done.

Tim had snapped. He thought he was alone. And nothing was going to convince him otherwise.

8. All 'Board Mind Games [DC]

Inspired by Zugzwang written by sardonic-sprite. Ra's keeps kidnapping Tim and forcing him to play different board games from different cultures (cuz I like representation) and each member of the batfam is kidnapped along with him and with every time Tim loses, he gets to choose between forms of torture or being Ra's heir. Ra's gets what he wants either way because he wants Tim as his heir, but he also wants to see Tim suffer because he blew up his League's operations.

This fic I am so so so incredibly excited for because I am adding brain factors in it. Here is a plan for one of my chapters:

Damian — Barjees — Fear gas — "Be the person you needed when you were younger" (or Ideasthesia)

9. Talons (not the actual title) [DC]

What if Bruce didn't arrive in time to adopt his sons? What if the Talons did?

And what if, years later, Batman comes across four child assassins in Gotham whose eyes are screaming help?

10. Danny meets Tim (not the actual title, obvi) [DC x Danny Phantom]

Not very outlined, but the idea has been written down. During Tim's Red Robin arc where he's traversing the whole globe to find Bruce, one of the places he stops at is Amity Park. He heard about how ghosts are a regular here so maybe he can find something? Proof whether or not Bruce is alive?

Who he finds instead changes the whole trajectory of Tim's life.

~

And those are some of my wips! I am 100% planning on writing and posting all of them. They've all been outlined (except the last one) and are very much ready to be written or posted. I keep getting ideas after ideas for fics though so don't know when I'll be writing them 😂 Rest assured, I'm too excited to delay some of these wips.

[ohno-the-sun]

Sunspot drawn in a weekly magma

Character by @venomous-qwille

[thasorns]

I cannot shake my thoughts about this and I’ll know I’ll keep this drama close to my heart. The fact that Myung ha’s ‘sunbae’ opened the riff to the world with the question “would you change it for me?” Also the fact that Myung ha’s alternate universe/game world started with the sound of an ocean tells already a lot about it but we won’t know until Episode 8 why. Throughout the series we watched Myung ha doing everything in his power to make Yeo woon happy while he himself couldn’t rely, couldn’t trust, couldn’t open himself up to him. We know the phrase of his ex gf “you don’t know how to love anyone.” left a deep scar in his soul which he carried with to the alternate universe/game. I try to think the system errors which occurred during the game was a way to change Myung ha’s mindset to not make the same mistakes and/or go on with his habitual habits he did in his life before he drowned himself. Also the different tasks was it actually for Myung ha to realize that he’s the one who makes Yeo-woon happy (which he didn’t). He retreated himself from Yeo woon because he couldn’t choose between the most important persons in his life as we saw his grandma died in real life which makes me think if he also knew that because in one sequence in the game/au it asked him if he wants to bring back some memories of Myung ha’s life. Also the last I love you from Yeo woon was the cherry on top to let the system completely crash where he distanced himself from Yeo woon. “I want to spend my remaining time making Yeo woon happy as best as I can. But it seems the more I try, the more unhappy I make Yeo-woon.” Which Myung ha remembers what Yeo-woon said: “whenever I see you, I both feel good and want to cry. I feel so much about every little thing. But I’m not happy at all right now.” Which again I try to think it is about why Myung ha doesn’t rely more on him? Why he doesn’t open himself up to him? A relationship is based off of trust, give and take… etc. but Myung ha goes into this relationship with deep rooted traumas which causes lack of self love. If one loves not itself enough how can they expect to love someone else which what explains Myung ha’s last phrase in the same scene so much. “Why did I think I could make you happy?” It’s as if he doesn’t think that a loner like him could be the one to give him love and happiness. What follows after is that he choses Yeo woon’s happiness even if he’s not his happiness… which again brings me to the beginning where Myung ha thinks “but I prefer lonely supporting characters to happy protagonists.” In this case he’s the lonely supporting character to our happy protagonist Yeo-woon. “But being fated to live that kind of life… is just so unfair.” He knew/knows how cruel life can be so he chose his happiness over everything and got vanished from the game. He realized by now that Yeo-woon is/was more important than he wanted to admit. Yeo-woon is/was a glimpse of happiness in Myung ha’s life. What brings us to the tragic backstory of his life and how he lived. All the obstacles he endured and went through led to his drowning (at this point we saw Yeo-woon’s obstacles in the alternate universe/game at least in my opinion). This is the turning point for Myung ha. “I was hoping if you saw yourself from someone else’s perspective, you would learnt to love yourself. I thought if you learned to love someone, you would be a little happier.” I want to make a reference here to the title itself “Love for Love’s sake” because all the sacrifices he did and cared more for others than himself… but he found happiness. In Yeo-woon. And he chose his own happiness for once. It’s the way he chooses all these things for himself, to open himself up for him, to rely and be cared for. “It would be nice to have someone. Someone who cares by my side. Someone who gives me chances when I fail and feel hopeless. It would be nice to have someone who always gives me love.” Which they found both in each other.