#his payment for this shitty job could go to better places

[zentraex]

Summary: You made a lot mistakes in your new job, but do you regret them? Nope, not a bit. But who can blame you for it? If you wouldn't have done them, you never would have met this pretty boy.

Remember: German Grammar is a lot different then English grammar. I apologize for any mistakes.

Pairing: Francis Mosses (doppelganger) x gn! Reader

(A/N): I usually write for mha, but this men dominates my fyp on TikTok and I can't stop grinning like an idiot about all this fanarts. My men is just too attractive for his own good. Nevertheless, Tumblr has too few fanfictions for him, so I had to do it myself. Still, I am not that proud about how it turned out. It certainly sounded better in my head, but I don't care. One shitty fanficion is better than none.

Art by @asteriscks on TikTok

This game is not mine, but Ignacio Alvarado. I also used phrases from the game.

Mistakes? Yes, but no regrets.

It's been a week since you started working for D.D.D as a doorman. 

You can remember your first day so well, it could have been yesterday. 

Well... probably because your life is constantly at stake. 

_

It started with a mistake that you ended up here. It was completely unexpected since you always made sure, that you sent your rent to the right account. 

Surely no one can blame you for a small typo, right?

Well, your landlord, who kept pounding on your door until you woke up, surely did.

"What?" you asked, annoyed, as you opened the door.

"When do you plan to finally pay your bill? The date has already been overdue for two weeks!" he complains. 

What?

"Sorry, but I've already transferred my money to you."

"Well, I didn't get anything. Do you still have the receipt for the transfer?"

"No..."

You already knew what that meant: double payment.

"Look, today, I'll transfer it to your account again, okay? If it doesn't work this time, it's not my fault."

You were about to close the door, but your landlord had other plans when he held the door open with his foot.

 "No no no. You will give me the money now. I don’t trust you. Why would you transfer it to me today, when it should have happened two weeks ago. You will give it to me now."

Your eyes widened. 

Now?

"But I don't have that much money in my hand? Who's got that?"

"Then I'll have to kick you out for now. But don't worry, no one is going to buy an apartment here anytime soon, so you can move right back in as soon as you give me the money."

Staring stunned at his smiling face you could have sworn you were about to hit him. 

"The keys?" 

With watery eyes, you grabbed your keys, placed them in his outstretched hand, and frowned.

What kind of person had such sharp fingernails as he does?  

You were sure that he could definitely have stabbed someone with them.

Thank God, I didn't hit him. 

"When do you plan to give me the money? I've heard that all banks closed today. Some kind of holiday among them, I've heard."

What!?

How were you going to get through the day today? You intentionally left everything in your apartment since you were so sure that you could have given the money to your landlord in a matter of minutes. 

"You’re telling me this now!?"

"If you had paid, you wouldn’t need to know." 

That filthy bastard.

No matter how angry you were at that moment, your panic was overweighting.  

What were you going to do now? 

Shit.

"Man, I really wouldn't want to be in your situation...", the landlord murmured.

Fuck the nails- This guy deserves a punch.

Just as you raised your fist, he speaks again.

"But maybe we can agree on something.

Then you stopped. 

"The D.D.D., which is responsible for the safety of all residents in this area, is looking for doormans. Ours has recently...quitted, which is why we are urgently looking for one. They pay three times the amount of your rent in a week. If you take the job, I can overlook your sloppiness this time."

Three times your rent? In a week? And for what? To sit there and check a few documents. You'd be crazy not to take the offer! 

"Okay. I'll do it. Where can I apply?"

"Don't worry, I'll sort it out for you. Tomorrow, you can start”

_

Looking back, it should have been clear to you that something was wrong. Starting with the sudden his sudden threat, the fingernails and this stupid story about the holiday of the banks. 

Maybe it was just because you were too panicked at that moment to think rationally.

But let’s be true here: when are you thinking rationally? If you did, you would certainly have quitted after your first day.

_

"Welcome and congratulations on your new job."

After watching the short video, a man in the yellow suit came to your window. You are so shocked that you can’t even answer.

I'm going to die today!

After all, you know it yourself: you're too gullible for the job. There's no chance you'll unmask a doppelganger who copies someone well.

“As you could see on the introductory film, your job is to verify the entry of the neighbors of your building. Each day there will be a list of individuals who will request entry to the building. It is possible that there are individuals who request entry and aren’t on the list. In which case you will mark on the checklist that they are not on the list and proceed to question the individual. Also, you must verify that the ID and the entry reqest are correct and have the respective D.D.D. logo. Don’t forget to also check the expiration on the IDs. Remember it’s Febuary 1955."

Your gaze wanders to the note that was stuck to the wall. 

Arnold Schmicht F02 – 01

Anastacha Mikaelys F02 – 04

Robertsky Peachman F01 – 02

Steven Rudboys F03 – 03 

Mia Stone F03 – 01

Rafttellyn Cappuccin F03 – 04

Admittedly, you don't know any of your neighbors, neither by character nor really by sight. You were never the type to care about your neighbors. 

"I wish you good luck."

C’mon Reader, be like Henry…

But better.

The first inhabitant was Mia Stone and you already started to sweat.

"Good evening."

Was she real? Was she a doppelganger? 

With shaky hands, you reached for her ID and entry pass, only to find that everything was fine. She was also on today's list and her appearance doesn't show any deviations either, right?

Just to be sure, you looked into the folder that described her appearance: 

Long hair

Small round nose

She has freckles

...

...

...

Freckles?

Your eyes wandered again to the woman in front of you, who was waiting patiently behind the window. 

You narrowed your eyes a little and leaned forward to get a better view of her.

No matter how long you stared at her, you didn't see them, her freckles. 

"You look different...", you murmur after a while.

"What's wrong with my appearance? I think everything is fine with my appearance."

Her photo on her ID and Entry Pass both have no freckles. 

Perhaps a mistake on the part of the D.D.D.? 

You're about to press the green button, but then you see her grinning slightly out of the corner of your eye. 

Shit. 

She almost had you. You're really not made for this job.

Your hand slammed hard against the red button, causing the siren to blare and the metal window to crash down. 

"3312," you murmur to yourself.

"You have contacted the D.D.D.. A group of agents has been sent to your building. Please wait for the cleaning protocol to run."

Cleaning protocol? 

What happens to those who were cleaned? They certainly won't be killed, will they? 

What if they will?

What if your judgment was wrong?

What if...

Your thoughts were interrupted as the siren fell silent and the metal window went up, only to reveal the yellow man.

"Cleaning protocol completed. You can continue your job."

It took a while until someone finally came again. 

This time, your heart was pounding faster. Significantly faster. And this time, you can't even say for sure that it's all out of fear. 

Milkman...

You definitely can't deny it: he's probably one of the most attractive men you've ever seen. 

You don't even have to look at today's checklist to tell he's not on it – a face like his would have caught your eye right away. 

"Francis Mosses, huh?" you murmured to yourself as you looked at his ID. "You're not on today's list."

"I’m not on today’s list because I had to leave due to an emergency."

Long nose

Thin chin

Tired eyes

Short hair

Wears a hat

It all fit. The only thing left now was a call. 

Just as you began to spin the wheel of the phone, he said, "You're new here, aren't you? I've never seen you here before."

"Yes, today is my first day."

"Must be hard, huh? I've heard that more and more doppelgangers are appearing and they are becoming more and more error-free. It would be a shame if such a pretty face as yours were to disappear forever."

Your cheeks turn red and suddenly you feel shyer than you actually are.

"B-But your job has to be hard as well. I didn't think that being a milkman would rob you so much sleep."

Francis smiles a little. So little that you almost didn't see it at all.

"It's not. I just stay up for a very long time. If you like, I can bring you some milk sometime. It's refreshing, calms the nerves."

You bite your lip slightly when you have to refrain from a question.

What milk do you mean exactly?

My God, why were you just such a sucker for handsome men?

"I'd be delighted, Francis."

You talked to him for a while and you quickly forgot that you were actually going to call someone. 

"I'd like to talk to you more, but I don't want to stop you from your work. I'll see you tomorrow, right, Reader?"

And you quickly forgot that you never told him your name. 

You pressed the green button.

_

"Shh," whispered the voice of Francis next to your ear. 

It was your third day, your third time to change shift.

Well, it usually would have been.

Your vision and mouth were blocked by the bloody hands of the doppelganger who claimed to be Francis.

He had killed the doorman, that should have taken over your shift.

You had to admit, that you were more than inconsiderate. After all, you didn't ask for his entry pass, nor the reason why he wasn't on today's list.  

"I'll let you go now, yeah? No wrong move, okay?"

He laughed softly as he released his hands from you and turned your chair, so you were facing him. 

"We don't want to hurt you, do we, Reader?"

The sentence shouldn't have given you hope, because after all, you were more than sure that you were going to die one way or another.

Maybe you should have shown a little resistance. For your honor, but....

Oh?

He is so close to you that you can practically feel his body heat. Or was it your own? Your face, despite your situation, was burning. 

Even though he said he was letting you go, his hands ran over your body and you couldn't deny that it did something to you. 

Were you so shameful?

"Actually, I wanted to wait, but I couldn't take it anymore.  I've been patient long enough, haven't I? It was so much work for me, to let you get this job."

You didn't know what to say. Honestly, you didn't know if you would even be able to answer him. 

His breath touched your throat as he spoke, "I think I deserve this, don't I? What do you say, Reader? Do I deserve my reward?”

If you were going to die anyway, why not enjoy the last few minutes?

Regardless of whether he was a doppelganger, he had lived up to his title as "Mlikman" that night.

_

"You killed the real Francis Mosses?" you asked the next day. 

Francis grins, almost so much so that his real form was threatening to show itself.

"Yes, of course. What would have happened if he had come before me? You would have sent the D.D.D. after me."

Well, he had a point, huh?

No matter how wrong it was, you were glad it didn't come to that. 

You didn't know the real Francis Mosses. That's probably why his death was so insignificant to you.

"Have you killed more people?"

"Just more doppelgangers you let through."

Your eyes widened. 

You were so sure you caught them all. The false success was the reason why you didn't quit…well, it was one of the reasons.

"How many have I let through?"

Francis just continues to wear his smirk as he gives you a kiss on the forehead.

"Don't rack your pretty head over it, okay?"

You just nod, smiling.

"Are you going to kill others...?

You don't know why you added your next question. Probably because you wanted to feel special. 

"Would you kill for me?"

"Hooooonn"

When you turn your gaze to his face, two white pupils stared at you and his grin is inhumanly wide and black. 

You don't know if it's joyful or sadistic, but it definitely made you feel special.

_

Looking back, you made more than a few mistakes. 

But honestly? 

You don't regret a single one of them. After all, all of them have led to an all-too-familiar knock on your window.

When you look up, he waves, the milkman. 

[lulubelle814]

A Marriage of Convenience - Part 1

Part 2 (coming soon)

A Marriage of Convenience Masterlist

Main Masterlist

“You will get married!  It’s time to settle down.”  Loki had dinner with his parents the night before, and Odin was relentless.  To make matters worse, Odin brought the sentiments on the matter into his work life at Valhalla Industries. His father ... .no, his adopted  father kept saying it’d look better for him in the company, heavily implying that he would not be considered to be in line to take over the company should he not.  Hela had fallen out of the line of succession when she told Odin to fuck off as she married the CEO of a rival company.  Thor had skipped out some time before, falling from grace when he married Jane against his father’s wishes.  That left Loki.  While Loki wanted to tell his adopted father where to go and how to get there, he was the only viable option.  After him was the idiot nephew Baulder.  While he hated Odin, he despised Baulder.  Everything was just handed to his idiot nephew.

Two floors down, Eva Walmsley was in a pickle of her own.  She was soft spoken and lacked confidence.  While she was a tad taller than the average woman (5’11” at full height), no one in the office could tell as she tended to hunch over a bit as if to hide herself while dressing in clothes that were far from flattering, but they were all she could afford from the thrift shop.  On top of that, she’d been living in a shitty studio apartment and had just received a 30 day eviction notice.  Where was she going to find the time to look for a new place?  Where was she even going to get the funds?  Money had been tight.

While Odin paid his employees quite a bit, most of her earnings went to pay the many medical bills left when her brother passed two years ago.  Insurance wouldn’t cover most of his treatments as they were experimental, but that didn’t stop them from taking out loans so he could get into those trials.  He was her best friend, all she had left in the world and couldn’t find it in herself to regret a single penny borrowed from the bank even when the treatments stopped working because it meant that she knew they’d tried absolutely everything they could.  It was a few weeks after his passing that she got a job at Valhalla Industries as a glorified receptionist.  Mostly she would help with admin work in the office, but occasionally she would be sent to assist higher ups when they were drowning in paperwork.  Mostly, Odin had her assigned at random to Loki to try and use her as a spy, to see how his son was really doing.  He never seemed to accept her reports that Loki was doing well, but he kept sending her to him anyway as she was the only one Loki hadn’t sent away crying yet.

Loki was the only person she’d ever told about her brother.  They’d become unlikely friends, especially when she told him why Odin kept sending her specifically to help Loki.  No one befriends a receptionist, but he did.  Initially, he may have harbored some judgments towards her for her career choice, perceiving her as highly intelligent; however, as he got to know her better, his critiques softened and eventually vanished altogether.  Eva wanted so much more in life, but circumstances forbade it, and the thought of it made his heart break a little more each time.  

He’d often seen her wearing what even he considered to be an extremely beautiful and expensive ring.  When he finally asked about it, all she told him was “it was my mother’s,” never offering any other piece of information.

That was until one day when he no longer saw her wearing it.  She’d never tell him, but Eva was short on the amount of money she needed for an unanticipated balloon payment to the bank and reluctantly sold it to a jeweler who paid quite a bit but not as much as she needed.  She could either cover rent or the balloon payment, but not both in their entirety.  So it surprised Loki to see her no longer coming in with it on her finger.  It seemed to be a permanent installation on her right hand.  He was further surprised at her ask for additional hours if they were available but wouldn’t say as to why.  It wasn’t hard to tell that she needed the money, and Loki knew she was too proud to just accept it as a gift.  Despite that, he tried to offer and was not surprised when she refused.  So instead, he had her help with some menial paperwork, paying her overtime out of his own pocket.

Loki had seen the light in her eyes fade, more so after the disappearance of her ring.  When he asked where it was, she gave excuses such as it was misplaced, it was being cleaned, or flat out ‘I didn’t feel like wearing it today.’  Something was definitely going on.

Today was the worst state he’d seen her in since she started working at his father’s company.  Yet again, Eva refused to tell him why.  Loki pulled her into his office and closed the door to give them some privacy.

“Something is going on with you, and I’d like you to tell me what’s got you so downtrodden?”  Eva knew she couldn’t evade Loki’s questioning much longer and finally relented.  “You remember what I told you about the loan for the medical bills from my brother’s experimental treatments?”  Loki nodded.  “Well, there was a balloon payment I wasn’t aware of.  I didn’t have enough money to pay for it.  So I sold my mother’s ring.”

The mystery of the missing ring was finally solved.  “I sense that’s not the end of this story,” he said and encouraged her to continue when she shook her head.  “Even with the extra money from selling it, I couldn't cover both the balloon payment and rent.  The bank wouldn’t work with me on it.  So I paid the balloon payment and hoped my landlord would understand.”

Ah, the pieces were finally coming together.  “And I’m guessing he didn’t take it well?”  Once again, Eva shook her head.  “The only thing he gave me was an eviction notice unless I can figure out how to pay him for the next 3 months up front.”  This angered him.  The idiotic buffoon couldn’t see it in his heart to give her more time?  Suddenly, he had an idea.  Something that would solve both of their problems.

“I have a proposition for you.  I want you to hear me out before you say anything.”

“Alright.”

He took a deep breath before continuing.  “My father has been hounding me to get married.”  Her eyes went wide, but he held his hand up in a silent request to allow him to continue.  “I am to take over the company; however, this can only occur should I take on a wife.  I understand you are in financial difficulty along with your horrid landlord evicting you.  So here’s what I propose.  We would marry, likely an elopement.  I’ll pay off any and all outstanding debts you have as well as fund you a new wardrobe.  I’m not saying you look bad.  It’s more that once we marry, you will be expected by my parents to dress to a certain standard.  You’ll also receive a monthly stipend as well as a bonus at the end of the contract in which we will divorce amicably.  I will even provide you with your own, fully paid for apartment which you can have furnished however you’d like, also paid for by me.”  

“You’re crazy, you know that?”  Loki knew she was right.  Who in their right mind would do this?  “I’m well aware of how insane this sounds, but it would solve both of our problems.”  There was no denying it.  

Loki wouldn’t tell her how much he’d leave in an account for her, but he would make sure it would be more than enough to cover tuition, books, and everything else she’d need covered should she wish to go back to university.  Or she could use the money to finally travel the world like she’d wanted.  Either way, it was up to her what to do with the money.

"As today is Tuesday, I suggest taking the next few days to carefully consider the matter and let me know your decision by the end of the week. Would that arrangement be acceptable to you?"  She nodded.  

The next evening, the landlord poked her about the eviction notice, trying to get her out sooner rather than later and didn’t take it well when she told him to fuck off.  That next morning found her going directly to Loki’s office to accept his offer.  “The agreed period of time begins today.”  Before signing the paperwork he’d prepared in anticipation of her answer, they went over some key points.  “In public, we would act as a loving couple.  This will include hand holding, some kissing, and other forms of affection; however, I will not force you to do anything untowards.  If something makes you uncomfortable, I expect you to tell me so we may rectify it moving forward.  I may be an ass, but I am not a cad.”  They discussed if they would have a proper wedding or an elopement.  Whichever they chose, he said he would cover all the costs.  Twenty minutes later, they came to an agreement, and both signed the papers.  That evening, Loki arranged movers to help her pack and move into his place, giving her a bedroom of her own.

While the situation was not ideal, she would get to be married (at least on paper) to the man for whom she harbored a deep crush.

Dividers by @jiyascepter

Taglist: @vbecker10

Taglist is open!

[aetherbound]

It’s been a week since I posted about turning off Discord notifications…and they’re still off. I feel somewhat better, but I keep fluctuating between barely functioning to having enough social energy to send a few texts over discord. Hopefully I can be more active again.

Thanks for being understanding, I love y’all <3

A wall of personal ranting text is under the cut, I just needed to let it out somewhere that isn’t my venting notes.

I worked 51 hours in two weeks and made $408. My half of the rent is $435. We’re okay, my partner makes good money to pay a few extra dollars, but he shouldn’t have to. I should be making more money, but I’m not. I don’t have enough leftover on any paycheck after bills and groceries to afford a car payment and car insurance.

And the best part is? I need a car to get a better job to make more money to pay on more important things. Right now my partner and his parents drive me to and from work, but I’m actively trying to get a license and car so I don’t have to rely on them. It seems impossible to buy a car with what I have left over from paychecks. I’d get laughed at if I said I could only put $20 down at a used car lot.

My managers are assholes and I’m told in a joking way “You suck.” “You’re slow.” “Shut up, no one wants to hear you talk.” I wish I was exaggerating and not quoting verbatim. Realistically, I’m not doing a bad job. My managers are just older men who like to use rude humor. My PTSD symptoms are still flaring up more often because they purposely slam things and laugh when I jump and cover my ears. On three separate occasions I’ve had to tell people NOT to use my deadname, and if it happens again I don’t know if I can keep calm and not scream.

In all my 24 years of living, of domestic violence, borderline homelessness and more horrors, I’ve only had 6 months of peace. Then that’s when the whole cancer fiasco started. I’m a year out from my last chemo infusion and my stress levels have been the same. Did I really just survive cancer to STILL be stressed? To go from a good job and shitty household to move into a better household and shitty job? My life is a fucking joke.

I’m waiting to hear back from a Filipino restaurant to see if their hours and pay are better, but I’m still looking at other places to work in case it doesn’t work out. I have an appointment next Tuesday to ask my doctor about getting medicated. Something to get my anxiety stabilized or something when I’m about to spiral into a panic attack.

Things will get better, when you’re at the bottom the only way is up. But I’m fucking exhausted man. I’m tired of coming home from work and feeling like I want to scream and break shit. I’m not a violent person, I’ve never even screamed at someone. I’ve not ever thrown things. When I’m angry, I just cry or be silent.

I just want things to be better before I completely break. I feel off, and that’s besides from my depersonalization/disassociation being heightened. I hate feeling irritable and numb. Maybe I’m being too sensitive and need to get over it.

But the sun will rise and so must I.

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

Genuinely wondering how other people my age are affording to buy homes.

We were told what we were preapproved for, but to keep the payments within our budget, it’s a significantly less amount. There are not houses in the area for this amount. It’s all the first amount.

We could reasonably afford it once we change jobs. M can’t change without it affecting us, but I can. But I can’t change jobs until I have a stable place to live but am hesitant to move forward with this big of a mortgage payment without securing a job first.

M’s credit is not great. It’s not even anything we can change even if we pay down debt. In 6 more months, a lot is going to fall off his report from closed accounts (what’s hurting his score) but that puts us 3 months beyond our current lease.

So maybe we can move to month to month or a short term lease? I need to mention this. The alternative is moving in with his friend for 3 months.

I suppose if we did that, I could change jobs as she’s a reasonable distance from where I’d be working. So maybe that IS a better option? We could pay her rent, i could get secured with my new job (as long as I stay in social work it’s okay per the lender) and then we will have the finances and the credit score will be within range. And we could save up more.

I think we’re just on an unrealistic timeline.

We can’t afford the rent out there without bigger sacrifices. But again, we could if we change jobs. M can’t change until after we have a house though because he would be changing fields. 😮‍💨

It’s so complicated.

Also would like to note that even with a bachelor degree, I am still paid pretty shitty. And I can only move up financially with a masters or apparently if we make this move and I work in a City. I really don’t want to commute into the city but I feel like I’m backed into a corner.

School honestly isn’t feasible for me until I get my adhd managed. And that isn’t feasible until I have better insurance. Which wont happen until a new job. Which ideally wont happen until we’ve secured somewhere to live 😮‍💨😮‍💨

I don’t want to be an adult

[fyreanddesire]

Chapter 3: c’est la vie

Monday.

There is a woman shouting in her face. She deserves it. Everything the woman is saying about her is true.  She’s low. She’s trash. She’s a home-wrecker. Dave is going to be pissed. How stupid of her; leaving strands of blonde-colored curls in the drain. She knew better. 

Shocking it even took his wife this long to find out.

Shrugging her off, she walks past the angry woman, continuing on her way to work. To please yet another woman’s husband. She can’t be late today. 

"You hear me? Stay away from my family!"

Sure thing, Mrs. Sure thing.

Tuesday.

She’s dancing on her bed, swaying back and forth with a bottle of the good shit in her hand as Rent's theme song plays. It's only a commercial on TV, but fuck, it's still so good.

"How do you measure, indeed." She tips the bottle to the screen and take a swig before plopping down. There is a small child’s dream on the bedspread. Nothing too great, candy and poptarts and popcorn. Dave hasn't called and she’s a little worried. Cash is running low and she only has one set on stage this week. Payment is due on her room.

She reaches back and grabs a joint that sat on top of the dresser. Moving to sit on the counter in the bathroom and sparking it up, turning on the ventilator with a pointed toe. She checks her face in the mirror and presses her fingers to the dark patches that grew under her eyes.

"Pretty as a picture." She rests the smoke on her lips and pulls out her phone. That bill would also be due.

Cals number is number three on her speed dial. She presses the key on her cell-phone and is relieved when she hears his voice.

"I need some dates. Dave is MIA." He doesn't ask what happened. It's not his job. He gets her private jobs and some dates on stage that will give her what she needs.

He's a good friend.

Wednesday.

This guy is not as gentle as Dave. He likes bondage and spanking. He doesn't give pet names and he degrades as he fucks her. He wants her to look at him as he tells her the truth about herself the whole time. Calling her every name under the sun. She is a whore. She’s nothing. She’s desperate. He's twice Dave’s size, in every area, and it hurts. He's paying twice as much, but she wants out.

She wants him out.

Thursday.

She’s with another man. This one? She meets on her way back to her motel from work. He is odd. Different. He asks for her time, and pays her nothing. She goes because he is brave to ask. They play some arcade games that he pays for. They eat food that he pays for. They talk, and he is odd. 

He doesn’t let her go back to the motel, not for the reasons that are usual to her. He wants her to be safe. The motel is safe for her. She knows no one, and no one knows her. The people that reside there couldn’t afford her, and the last place she would be sought after from the type of men who could afford her would be this shitty motel. Still he insists. He is odd. 

They have a good night.

Friday. 

She lays listlessly in bed, watching the light grow dim in the room. She doesn't have the TV on and it’s quiet. Her stomach rumbles, but she’s too too tired to move. It won't stop. She roll over and closes her eyes, but it begs for attention. So shoes are on and she’s up and moving. Her feet drag and the walk seems so long. She buys a hot dog from one vendor and a meatball sandwich from another. She sits on the street curb and eats both, not caring about who is looking at her. She’s not homeless, fuck them.

There is a bakery across the street and a hot beverage sounds good, right now. It's fucking cold and not even the expensive coat Dave bought her is heavy enough. She climb to her feet and makes her way over. It smells sugary and sweet inside. There is a perky cashier behind the counter who is annoying and way too happy. She orders a hot chocolate and takes a seat by the window. It burns her lips and makes her shiver, but it’s good.

She thinks about going back and ordering a cookie, but there are too many people in line and she is not desperate enough. The paper cup warms her hands as she holds it. Maybe a brownie? She looks back to the counter and debates again. Her eyes then catch another set of eyes as she turns her head.

He looks away at first; caught. It takes her a minute, but as she look down at his shoes, she recognizes him. His eyes come back to her and she feels pissed off. She’s had stalkers before, but this was just…annoying. She would fuck him, he just had to say it. Tell her you want it. Rather than doing…this.

You know?

She gets up and walks to his table. He shifts uncomfortably, trying to keep his eyes on his laptop, but fails as she takes a seat.

“A hundred bucks will make this a lot easier. For both of us, Creep.”

His eyes are offended.

"I didn't mean to stare. I just thought you looked familiar and I was trying to place where I knew you from," he apologizes.

"This is the third time I have seen you where I have been. You really think I am buying that shit?"

He squints, looking confused. "Two."

"No, Creep. Three. The corner store, the cemetery and here. I can count. Three."

The man shakes his head. "I don't remember seeing you at the cemetery."

"Yeah well, I remember you, Mr. Shiny Shoes. You were there."

"Well it's a strange coincidence," he concludes.

"If you want something, just say it. I'm the real deal. You get what you pay for. I don't play games and don't worry about the Wifey. I don't need that drama anymore than you do."

He sighs and closes the lid to his laptop. "What is your name?"

"Whatever you like." She expects him to play along, but he looks unamused. She rolls her eyes, giving him a fake. “Samantha.”

He nods. "That's a lovely name. I'm Gabriel, Samantha.” He knows it’s a fake. She sees it in his stare. He offers his hand, but she doesn’t shake it. "I'm not stalking you, nor do I want any…favors. It's just a misunderstanding I'm afraid."

"Uh-huh. Just know this, Gabriel. Next time I see you where I am, I am calling my friend Cal and telling him all about these little ‘misunderstands’. I'd watch where you go from now on, if I were you."

Gabriel calls her name as she stands up. “Samantha? I come here on Fridays, usually. Sometimes on the weekend, too. I can't give you a time, though. It varies."

She considers herself warned.

Saturday.

There is a stick that cannot be right, but the Hotline number says it is. She stares at it and can't breathe. She wonders of the names of the men she’s been with and tries to recall mistakes. Mistakes. They were all mistakes right? She counts backwards and tries to match the date with the person, but…she can’t.

There are just too many.

Sunday.

She is fucked. She is so fucked. There is a parasite inside of her and she is so fucked. She walks with a strict purpose towards the Women's Clinic and steps inside. She has never messed up this badly before. She is careful. She uses only men who are wealthy and clean and dignified. She is chanting words in her head. All eyes turn to her as the door closes. The room is quiet and full. She doesn't know what to do.

There is a window and a counter and a chart. She walks towards it, slowly. The woman asks her to sign in and she automatically writes her fake name. Her father would be so ashamed. She takes a seat, unable to focus on another clipboard the receptionist handed her.

The woman to her left has three children climbing all over her. She tries to smile and not seem annoyed, but one of them is stepping on her toes and it is highly fucking annoying. 

"Your first?" The mother asks and she nods slowly. "My limit is three. There's no way I am going for four." 

Oh.

"Have you done this before?" she whispers to the mother.

"Once. Accidents happen, ya know?" 

A nurse calls her in and she hasn’t finished her paperwork. It doesn't seem to matter. She asks her a series of questions and explains to her what will happen. The color must be gone from her face; She feels nothing there. Her fingertips are ice cold and numb. The nurse leaves and says she will be back.

She looks around the room. It smells like alcohol. Not the good kind. Sterile. The paper crunches under her as she shifts. It sounds ridiculously loud against the quiet. She tries to stay still, but cannot.

She thinks of the woman in the waiting room. Her child's face.

She gets up and leaves before the nurse returns.

Monday.

She feels this thing all the time. It is not noticeable to unknowing eyes, but she feels it. She knows it's there. It begs her for food and sleep. She wants to give it nothing. She needs to dance and make money. She has nothing left from the John earlier this week and that fuck Dave is officially gone.

She is at the club, but she’s scared to death someone will notice this thing she’s trying to hide. It is all in her mind - the bump – but the fear is too great. This outfit is too revealing and she is too tired and she feels herself shaking and freaking out.

Cal covers for her tonight, but doesn't ask why he has to. He just does it. She is in her motel room, staring at her reflection in the mirror. She’s naked and she sees it. They might not see it, but she sees it. It is hideous. It is disgusting.

She is disgusting.

She is low.

An accident.

It sounds so much nicer.

She rushes out of her motel room and to the edge of the steps. Her room is on the third floor; that would be a mighty fall. Her breathing is hard and she feels a tear sliding down her cheek. She closes her eyes and hears the preacher on the TV in her mind. Her body goes limp and she is falling.

They are falling.

[blackberrydeer]

21 days to find you

Chapter 3/?

The whole ordeal had already flew out of his mind when Joel reached the guard to get his payment. Not a lot, easy work like that never rewarded you any pretty amount of anything other than tired muscles, but two cards were enough for two days, so he could at least pretend he did something useful.

With the rain pounding the way it was, he would have to take the Fedra route, and that meant crossing the whole military school. In normal days Joel would try to avoid the damn place like the plage itself.

But his back hurt like hell, and frankly, chances are, with the way his ankle was aching, he would most likely trip and drown in the shallow street river made by the rain, and right now he doubted he would have enough force or will to get up and walk to his shitty home.

And anyway, it was almost dawn, no kid would be running off the walls to go out. Not anymore, in the middle of the apocalypse, and not with the way the rain had been trying to mimick goddamn hail.

Unfortunately the two decades Joel passed avoiding kids had made him kind of blind to how much a mini-human would go to do something they’d want to, because despite the night, the guards, the curfew, the cold and the rain, Joel did find a kid. I’m fact, he’d been so paranoid about avoiding any kid sneaking out of their rooms that he didn’t even notice the one running right at his direction until said kid crashed straight into him, sending them both to their asses.

Or more accurately, sending him to the floor, back first (and fuck does that hurts, he’s not as young as he once was), the girl (because of course, after avoiding kids for so long, the first time he’d find one would be a little girl) sprawled over his chest, cradling her forehead with a mad scowl.

That is, until she eventually noticed him, and fuck, that was the girl working at the site. She’d been paranoid enough to bolt off the job without even picking up her ration, and he all but confirmed her (inaccurate) suspicions. Now she would think he was actively stalking her, and Joel couldn’t even form an argument that would convince her otherwise.

But despite the worried need to reassure her he offered no danger, the 19 years of surviving and smuggling kicked in first, and before she could think of screaming he held her head in one arm, hand pressed tight against her mouth, careful to not block her nose, the other around her middle in a sick joke of a hug.

The reaction was immediate, the girl starting to thrash and fight and try to bite against his hold. A brief memory of him trying to keep a wild raccoon off his baby brother flashed in his mind, but he brushed it off quickly. That girl looked like more of a wild raccoon than the raccoon itself.

“Calm down, calm do- shit-“ she managed to scratch at his face, barely missing his eyes “ Ow, I’m gonna let you g- ouch, brat, calm down” another pseudo punch, a pressure in his finger that could only be her trying to bite his hand. She twisted her torso, effectively moving so they were face to face, her trying to use his chest to get up and aim a weak punch to his jaw. He tightened his hold around her middle, making her yelp when it forced her to bend her arms and drive another punch to the floor instead.

“Calm dOWN, GODDAMNIT” Joel snapped, at last, when she almost kneeled him in the groin.

Probably a little rougher than what Joel would have been strictly comfortable with while talking to a child, specially a terrified one, but it seemed to do the trick, considering she stopped fighting to stare at him, the surprise in her eyes making him wonder just how much of that reaction was conscious or barely automatic.

Anyway, she stopped.

“Cool off, kid. I’m goin’ to let you go, but” Joel tried to ignore the barely visible flinch “you better not scream when I do it”

Well, at least she lifted one eyebrow, a look in her face that would be just like any other cheeky teenager’s if they were in literally any other situation.

“Don’t know if you noticed, but they have a hang wall they’re more than happy to put to use” that should have been a clear threat, but he felt the gnawing feeling she wasn’t talking about him. The next words pierced at the part of his heart responsible for his ever present anger toward the world “ If they see me, I’d be spending all of tomorrow’s morning hanging there”.

And God, sometimes Joel would curse that little part of him that cared still. What a punch, to hear a young thing saying shit like that with a normal face.

“Let’s just not drag their attention then, okay?” he said, not very keen on keeping hearing the kid talking. Also definitely not keen on keeping holding down a little girl.

Just to be sure she wouldn’t try to alert the guards, he let her go slowly. Not so surprisingly she was telling the truth, and despite still being wary of him, she made no attempts at screaming. Unfortunately for him she kneeled his ribs while trying to get up.

For some reason she stayed put until he got up, urging his body to go back to work with a slowness that he would forever deny.

“Where’s your dorm?” Joel asked, regretting it the moment the words let his mouth. Good job at trying to not be creepy.

The girl seemed to think the same thing.

He instinctively steeped back, lowering his shoulders to try to appear smaller, non threatening.

Before, when kids and babies where guarded by their parents and security laws, it was hard to tell, but two decades in the apocalypse was enough to see just how much humans can rely on their animals instincts.

Even avoiding kids, nowdays it was easy to see just how much kids are affected by wild instincts. Monkey brain and all, Tommy had said once.

“Why?” good job at not being a creepy, really good job.

“It’s way too late for a girl your age to be walking alone” he may loathe seeing kids, his own never failing to cross his eyes, but even him wouldn’t want to have to deal with the guilt of seeing some dead naked kid floating somewhere in the sewages.

The girl seemed to disagree, looking over his shoulder with excessive attention. He caught on the act pretty quickly, though.

Not safe.

Just to humour her, be lifted a eyebrow, before doing a whole turn over to look at what she had been supposedly staring at.

To his very little surprise, there was nothing, but he kept staring until the sounds of quick footsteps started to fade.

What was she, teen?

[sukunasbabymama]

Their friend is pregnant.

⌗ Pairing: Bonten gang.

⌗ Warnings: mentions of killing because hello? It’s Bonten, cursing, these psychos themselves, mention of drugs but slightly.

⌗ A/N: This one is gonna be long because there aren’t a lot of boys but also so I can try to explain the idea.

Okey, so here, Y/N it is not exactly their “bestie”, that would come later. She is Mikey’s hidden card, an advisor wiser than Akashi Takeomi. He would go to her when a gang seems to be a little smarter than what he and Akashi anticipated.

So, Mikey has sent Sanzu to look for her after several months of not seeing her, because things were calm, but now he needs some advice on how to go with this rival gang. Sanzu finds her after three weeks of looking for her, and he had to make several calls because she knows how to erase any trace of her, she’s been in this game for too long.

Because Mikey understands that apparently, she doesn’t wanna be in the spotlight he shows up to her apartment just with Sanzu, if she gave him the advice he’s looking for then he would discuss it with the others and would stop bothering her for now.

What he didn’t expect was for her to open the door and point a gun to his face, he was slightly surprised, Sanzu’s gun already pointing at her head.

What was more shocking, was her small round belly on display since she was wearing just a top and loose gray sweat pants.

“M-Mikey!” She said in surprise putting the gun down quickly. Mikey put his hand on top of Sanzu to make him put it down.

“Sorry for bothering you, we are gonna leave you al—” He started.

“It’s okay, I just thought you were my ex, you can come in” She opens the door all the way.

He confirms what he thought when he saw the building, it was some small, cheap apartment that probably takes all the payments in cash. He sits on a small chair with Sanzu behind him on alert, she put a cup of tea in front of him and sits.

“I suppose you need advice on something,” She says, taking a sip of her own cup.

“That new gang from the west seems to have some deep connections with the police; they have searched four businesses that our gang manages, on the same day” She scrunched her eyebrows, thinking.

“You already got the ones who ratted you, didn’t you? Can I talk to them?”

“I killed them, before coming here” She just rolled her eyes, this damn man.

“Right, okay, I’ll need the figures from all four businesses then, if that’s okay with you,” She says and closes her eyes for a moment, she’s feeling so tired lately. They notice this.

“Sanzu would bring them to you as soon as possible, what’s wrong? ” She looks at him and sighs. “You could’ve told me you want to hide, you’re my hidden card, I would’ve hide you in a better place”

“Didn’t think I have the right to do that, I’m just a pawn after all”

“What’s wrong?” He asks again, more serious this time.

“When I found out I was pregnant my ex beat me, hoping he would kill the baby, he didn’t because I managed to protect my belly, but when I was at the hospital he called demanding to know where I was so he could kill “the bastard from another man” I broke the phone on the spot, and when they let me go I erased all trace of me so he couldn’t find me” She chuckles. “Did a shitty job if you’re here.”

“Sanzu is the best in what he does and he found you in three weeks, you did a good job,” Mikey says.

“I didn’t even cheat on him, with fucking who? I worked at a damn art gallery and when I wasn’t there I was with you, he knows damn right I wasn’t fucking any of you” She was exasperated. “Now my belly is getting big, I’m feeling tired almost all of the time and my feet hurt and I have to go through all of this alone.”

“Let’s go,” Mikey says standing up and giving her his hand for support. “You’re coming with me.”

“What are you on?” She says confused but taking his hand anyways.

“Didn’t I tell you already? You’re my hidden card, I would’ve hide you better if that’s what you wanted”

He gave Sanzu instructions to take all her belongings while they wait in the car.

“I understand that but–”

“Let’s just go so you can have a proper sleep, look at it as a little thanks for the plan you’re gonna create for me” She rolled her eyes, he pays her good money for her advice and plans so this was a lame excuse, but honestly she’s gonna take it, she’s too tired to argue anyway.

He didn’t take her to a hideout or anything, he took her to his damn loft. When she took a shower and got ready to sleep he knocked on her door.

“Need anything?” He asked, she was indecisive to say it but he kept going. “Speak”

“There’s a couple of vitamins and stuff I need that I can’t buy myself, can you make one of your men buy it for me?”

“I don’t like that” She looks at her feet. “You’re not going to be scared of going out just for some motherfucker. You will go tomorrow with the Haitani and Kokonoi”

“List—”

“I’m not gonna argue about that, go to sleep, my room is the one next to this, I’ll let my door open in case you need something in the middle of the night” And just like that he leaves her alone.

Just like he said, the next day she freely went out for the first time in several weeks, all the big guys in the gang were aware of the situation now. When she got a little tired of being on her feet Rindou took her hand and guide her to a bench outside of the market.

“Thank you, I’m sorry y’all have to do this kind of stuff instead of—”

“It’s actually good, like a free day from work,” Ran says coming out of nowhere and giving her a popsicle, she smiles at him and he does the same. Kokonoi was behind him with the shopping car full of everything she needs and a lot of things she decided to buy because Mikey didn’t have proper food in that big-ass loft.

“Wait, I didn’t get to pay,” She says standing up with the help of Rindou.

“You thought he sent me to do the same as them?” Kokonoi asks her smiling. “They’re the force here, I’m just the wallet”

Two days later she was in one of the warehouses she knows they used for their crazy stuff. She was met with the Haitani, Sanzu, and Mikey, she smiles at them.

Then she sees her ex in the middle of the room, hands tied behind his back, looking a little beaten up.

“M-Mikey” She looks at him, he motions her to get close to him, she does and interlocks her arms with him for support, he doesn’t say anything about it.

“Shut the hell up, Mikey’s gonna talk,” Sanzu says and her ex stops his prayers.

“I’m a bastard, all the guys here are bastards, but you” Mikey’s voice is neutral, she can't predict what he’s gonna do. “Beating a woman? Your own damn woman? That’s carrying your damn child?”

Her ex looked at her.

“Is it really mine?” She rolled her eyes, how stupid can you be? He would believe Mikey who she was interlocking arms at the moment but not her a couple months ago when she made a whole production just to let him know?

“You’re gonna die without knowing,” Mikey says and starts to walk with her by his side. “Kill him”

She closes her eyes and feels Mikey's hands on her ears so he could somehow minimize the volume of the gunshot.

After that she started to go out more, even tho her ex wasn’t around anymore, Mikey would still have someone as her bodyguard and it wasn’t a nobody, it was one of the executives, even Sanzu who’s his second in command has been her bodyguard at some point.

He declined deadpan when she offered to go back to her old apartment and even told her to sell it. He never explained to her why he keeps doing all of that, he just does it and gives her an “And I’m not gonna argue about this”.

One time she was at a warehouse with all of them, explaining a new plan for the same gang Mikey went to look for her in the first place, they were tough. Anyways, she was sitting beside Kakucho listening to all the information Sanzu collected so she and Akashi could come up with a plan, unconsciously she took Kakucho’s hand and put it on her belly, he was SHOOKTH and looked at Mikey like 😟, Mikey was shocked too but she didn’t seem to be aware of what she was doing so he just nodded to Kakucho and he started to massage her belly, she sighed in relief.

After that Mikey started doing it too, the first time he asked her she was confused and he told her what she did to Kakucho, she was embarrassed as hell but agree so now he would massage her belly a lot, and even let the other know so they would do it too. If she let them.

She was pretty much okay with it, I mean, since Mikey found her when she was just a couple months pregnant till now her hormones have been all over the place, she wanted the skin-ship, even if it was from gang members who don’t give a fuck about her.

But then, one day Kakucho took her to the doctor and got inside the room with her and she knew that the order was just to drive her around, that isn't something people who don't give a fuck about her would do, right?

Ran would come out of nowhere to hang out with her even if it wasn’t his turn to be her bodyguard. With that lazy smile and ignoring her questions and stares, he would put her feet on his lap and start rubbing them.

One day Akashi went to see her, he’s the only one who never was her bodyguard since he’s always active with Mikey, so she was confused. He told her he wanted to hang out with her to see why the executives would argue to decide which one would be with her for the week. She took him to her room to eat ice cream and at first, he was all “I don’t get paid enough for this bullshit” but then she made him rub her belly and he was delighted. Now she has another man fighting to touch her belly.

Rindou was so calm and warm because of the nature of always looking at chaos from the distance with his brother that she often would fall asleep around him and he would take her in his arms to her bedroom. After some begging, he would lay by her side and that’s their dynamic, naps.

Sanzu wouldn't take any drug if he was going to be her bodyguard for the day or even the week, the reason he told her? he wanted to be in all his senses in case she was in danger, the real reason? he wanted to remember all the things she blessed him with; touching her belly, her leaning on him while they were in public, her talking to the waiter as if he was her husband or something she would do this with all of them to avoid questions on her being pregnant, people were rude okay. He also didn't want to forget her asking him in a sweet tone if he prefers the yellow dress or the purple one keeping in mind that her belly was big now. He would buy both of them because for him she looks good in everything.

Little by little it started to be obvious that they would do stuff out of orders, going out of their way for her and Mikey didn’t look mad at this, at best, he would encourage this to keep going.

Don’t get it twisted, they haven’t softened in slightly that's what they say but, why wouldn't they take care and protect a colleague that made millions for them with her master plans? they are just protecting their hidden card, right?... right boys, whatever helps ya sleep at night.

When she went into labor all of them were there, in their expensive suits sitting in the waiting room, Mikey went inside with her and that’s the first time in years that he looked genuinely soft, he would look at her with worried eyes, would pat her hair and made her do breathing exercises with him. They let him hold the baby thinking he was the father and his face was a whole poem, he looked like everything but a leader of a dangerous gang.

“you happy?” She asks after she held the baby too and they took it to clean them, Mikey looks at her frowning, he didn’t know how to put into words what he was thinking.

“uh, I’ll protect you and them from now on,” She nods because he has been telling her that for a while now. “Not because you’re my hidden card, I think you both are my treasure”

“You think?” She smiles.

“You both are my treasure” He corrected himself.

And I’ll die for you if I have to, he thinks but doesn’t say it.

[thefanficmonster]

Infatuation

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: It’s not a secret that Corpse prefers taking care of his hair himself rather than going to a hair salon to get it trimmed and/or tampered. However, he only has so much knowledge of how to properly do it without having to obliterate his budget. Luckily, his girlfriend comes to his rescue.

Requested by Anon. Hi lovely! Thank you so much for the incredibly fluffy request! I’ve been very pumped to write it and now here it finally is - so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but I still hope you come across it and give it a read! Love, Vy ❤

“Um, what are you doing?“

I just walked into Corpse’s apartment to find him barricaded in the bathroom, giving himself a hair appointment. We were supposed to have a chill night in watching movies, but it seems to me like those plans will either have to be delayed or canceled, given the chaotic state both Corpse and his bathroom are in. I mean, how dumb was I to expect he was actually doing his hair justice when he told me he styled it himself? Why didn’t that immediately raise an army of red flags in my head and lead me to question his methods?

I’m honestly quite jealous of Corpse’s hair. It’s always so soft and silky and no matter how much or how little effort he’s put in it, it always looks good: either evidently carefully styled or boyishly messy, it leaves me with heart-eyes regardless. But to see him massacre it like this, it makes me wish I could report it as a crime.

“Ain’t obvious?“ He sounds rather frustrated and I feel at least slightly better due to this fact. He deserves to be as frustrated as I am by the sight of the crap he’s doing. “Sorry, you’re gonna have to wait for me for...a little while. I just need to get this under control and, um, clean the mess. Sorry for ruining your night like this, babe. I-I really wasn’t planning on it to take this long but I forgot to buy one of the products and I thought I could wing it without it but...I very clearly can’t so...“

“Please, stop talking. I don’t need to know what sins you’ve committed - if I do I’ll probably have to give you the silent treatment for like a week or so.“ I call out to him as I quickly skip over to the kitchen to leave the food I bought on my way over before returning to the bathroom and carefully taking a step inside, mindful of where there are hair strands on the tiles. Even severed, his hair is beautiful and I have a ton of respect for it - ok fine, I adore it. Corpse definitely doesn’t appreciate it properly. I walk over to the shower, reaching out to the two shelves inside which are lined with different types of hair products. “Oh fuck...“ I let out the whisper without even realizing it because I’m so stunned by the brands I see on those shelves. “Corpse, um, what the actual fuck?”

He turns to me, eyes wide and terrified because of my menacing tone. “What? What is it?” His gaze searches the spot where mine was just pointed at, looking for anything that could’ve provoked such a reaction from me. Seeing nothing but the hair products, he meets my deadly glare yet again, “What’s wrong?”

Alright, this man-child needs some serious help

“I’ll tell you what’s wrong.“ I say, stomping towards the exit of the bathroom, “You’re gonna stay here and wait for me to come back and don’t you DARE, even touch your hair, let alone bring a pair of scissors or any chemical near it. Copy?“

“Copied and pasted, ma’am.“ He salutes me, knowing better than to ask questions when I enter my commander role. There are quite a few things that set me off into this bossy-ass persona, and hair mistreatment is most definitely one of them. Thing is, Corpse doesn’t know that. Well, he didn’t know that, pretty sure he’s guessed it by now.

Feeling myself soften at his obedience and trust, I give him a smile and a wink over my shoulder as I go to grab my bag and leave the apartment to complete my mission, “Good boy.”

                                                              *  *  *

“Isn’t that a lot better?“ I ask, gently running my fingers through Corpse’s freshly cut, washed and dried hair. I’ve spent a good five minutes just smoothing through it with my fingers. I bet he’s expecting me to say ‘my precious‘ at any moment now, and trust me it’s tempting, but I still don’t, I won’t give him the pleasure of predicting my actions. Wow, we’ve really reached that level of being familiar with one another that I predict that he’s predicting what I’m gonna do next. While I’m a guessing game for him, I tend to think of myself as more of an open book. You just gotta be fluent in the language it’s written in to understand it.

I’ve gone off-topic, my bad.

“Yeah, you’re a lot less scary now.“ He tells me, his hand finding mine in his hair and taking it to his lips to place a kiss on my knuckles.

We’re positioned so that we’re in front of the bathroom mirror with Corpse seated in a chair in front of me and I’m for once in my life towering over him from behind. Our height difference was threatening to be a hinderance in my work on his hair, but we easily figured it out.

I can’t help but laugh, “You know what I meant.“ I curl one of his already curly strands around the pointer finger of the hand that’s still wandering around the soft dark curls while the other remains in his gentle hold, resting on his shoulder.

“And you know what I meant.“ He shifts in his seat to look at me directly, not via the mirror, “Since when do you have a hair infatuation?“

I roll my eyes and retract my hands, defensively folding my arms over my chest, “It’s not an infatuation with hair, dummy. It’s an infatuation with your hair.” I correct him, doing quick work of styling the stray strands that fall over his forehead and eyes. “I really like your hair, you already know that. I can’t handle the thought you’re doing such a shitty job taking care of it.”

He shrugs, furrowing his brows, “Hey, I was buying top-shelf products, cost me a fortune every month, my hair was being treated like royalty.”

I roll my eyes once again, “High price doesn’t always equal high quality, Corpse. Did you ever stop to read what was in those products?” I don’t let him answer, I don’t need him to confirm what I already know. “Even if you did - which you didn’t - you wouldn’t know what each of those ingredients do to your hair. You see, taking care of hair, especially hair like yours, takes patience and knowledge. It’s practically an art form. It’s not like you can just buy any product that has ‘suitable for curly hair’ on it. There’s a lot more to that.”

It’s only after I finish my monologue that I realize he’s looking at me with amazed amusement in his gaze, almost like a parent listening to their kid talk about their wish of becoming an astronaut. “Since when do you know so much about hair? You’ve been using the same shampoo and conditioner since I know you and now you wanna lecture me on hair care?”

I raise an eyebrow at him, exasperated by his stubbornness on the matter, “Who said being consistent with your hair products is a bad thing? You know, frequent changing of brands has the potential of being damaging as much as aiding.” I explain with the most amount of patience I can muster, now taking over the parent role myself, “And as for your previous question, I know so much because my mother is a hairdresser.”

His eyes widen in surprise. I can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to recall if I’ve ever told him this before.

“How come I don’t know that?“ He asks finally after a long moment of silence. “Why haven’t you told me?”

“You ask that as though I just tell you things like that on the regular. Did you also want me to drop the info that my dad’s a mechanic in passing conversation about video games? Cause that’s a little hard to shoehorn in....“ He cuts off my sarcastic rambling with a brief peck to the lips. He’s the only person allowed to shut me up, and only like that. Anything else will earn him either an earful or a silent treatment. 

Just kidding....unless...

“So, does that mean you’re continuing the family business?“ he asks when he pulls away, “I mean, you’re technically my personal hairdresser now.“

I furrow my brows playfully, “Wait, what? Since when?”

“Since I hired you approximately an hour ago.“ He beams up at me, satisfied that I’ve fallen in his trap.

“And what about my payment?“ I ask, narrowing my eyes at him.

He looks to be contemplating for a second before he stands up from the chair, taking my hand in his leading me out of the bathroom, “Well, each appointment you’ll give me a different price, Miss Y/L/N. But, considering today was your first day, I choose to pay you with dinner.“ He sends a wink my way, laughing when he’s met with an unamused expression on my part as I stop in my tracks, causing him to halt his movements as well.

“You really plan on paying me with the dinner I bought?“ I raise an eyebrow at him, freeing my hand from his so I can put both my hands on my hips for the complete 'I’m far from impressed’ look.

“Yeah...? Problem?“ He asks, faking nervousness and guilt as he closes the distance between us, once again returning to the default of towering over me instead of it being the other way around.

“Several actually. First of all...“ I raise my finger in the air accusingly, ready to go off but the arm that wraps around my waist and lifts me off the ground causes my words to die down, evaporating in a frightened squeal, “Corpse no!! Put me down!“

Of course, he ignores me, carrying me into the living room while I don’t know whether to thrash or stay as still as possible. 

Tsk, so much for gratitude

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[singlecelledthot]

Fancy Meeting You Here

Welp, I don't know what happened but I took this request all over creation. This is long and I'm not sorry, I hope you enjoy this because I very obviously loved writing it. You get Erron and Kano in there a little bit too and I hope you get the expeirence you wanted outta this Elli! 💕

Pairing: Post!Burn Kabal x Fem!Reader 

Warnings: NSFW, Minor Stalking, Risky Sex, Cumshot, Fingering, Dirty Talk.

 Summary: You're his favorite mailman, it's a shame you both have no idea how to talk to each other.

Tags: @icy-spicy @elligatorrex​ @subarublue​

It had never been your intention to be enlisted as a member of the Black Dragon. You were a vendor at first, delivering goods to clubs and bars across the city, then you started taking under the table payment for extra delivery work. You were trying to get a down payment for your own house and the hourly rate you were being given wasn’t enough to pay for your shitty apartment---let alone a home. So you’d taken some jobs, delivered some extra goods and gathered cash for your troubles. And you were good at it too, so good in fact your reputation spread as a courier who knew how to get any delivery done on time, intact, no questions asked. It was laughable that you’d ever stood a chance of avoiding the Black Dragons.

It had been a simple job; go to some underground fight club and deliver the goods, what you assumed had just been bottles of some high end liquor. You did the job and didn’t think anything of it, staying in the back to drop off the crates and not seeing a soul other than the bar staff who you were handing inventory to. Then it happened again, different place, same staff---it was bizarre and you joked about it during the second delivery. They didn’t laugh. Then it happened again but they insisted you offloaded it yourself this time---you wound up behind the bar slinging bottles onto the shelves and grumbling because the money was too good not to, but you weren’t some fuckin’ shelf stocker. That’s when you’d first seen him, and for a second you wondered if the place doubled as a sex club, because some dude in a gimp mask was sitting at the bar. You got the distinct impression that his unseen eyes were following you as you went about your business.

The fourth time you met the head honcho himself, some Aussie fucker named Kano who smelled like he’d drunk the entire shipment you had delivered. Despite the unpleasant nature of the meeting, it was certainly enlightening. You had caught his eye, he appreciated efficient and morally gray people who could get a job done, and suddenly nobody else would touch you. It was like the Black Dragons had claimed you. You didn’t like the lack of autonomy, but the money suddenly got much better and the work was so consistent you quit your day job. Little did you know, you’d just become an official courier for one of the most dangerous criminal organizations on the planet. 

You’d seen some weird people during your night shifts, besides Kano himself there had been a cowboy wandering around. And then there was Gimp Guy. He didn’t show up too often but when he did it was with the sort of aggressive swagger people who suffered from crippling self-loathing had, he tried too hard. Kano didn’t make it better, whenever the three of them were in the same place together, it was all bared teeth and barely veiled threats. It was on a night like that, that first contact was made. You had been carrying a small box to the back, being informed quickly by one of the veteran staff that the parcel was to be delivered to Kano directly. You glared at your co-workers who clearly weren’t interested in taking it for you---even though you were the one who had to leave the club to get it. Bastards.

Whatever, you weren’t afraid of Kano, no matter how suicidal that may be. So you picked your way through the bustling crowd, avoiding vomit and broken bottles as you climbed up the stupidly tall pedestal that Kano insisted on standing on to look over the crowd. Your knees already hurt, now your patience was bruised too. As you mounted the final few steps, you overheard the arguing, pausing to listen as you were still out of sight.

“If you can’t handle it, Kabal, I might have to rethink this little arrangement.” The sudden wheezing gust of a snarl filled the air and you knew it was Gimp Guy (or Kabal as you just found out). “I’ll fucking handle it. Your pencil dick intel guys didn’t put that SF was involved in the folio.” You could practically feel the cold, smirking expression on Kano’s face. “Didn’t used to be a problem for ya before your little--accident. Maybe you’re getting slow?” The sound of metal hissing against metal filled the air and suddenly, the warm southern drawl of that Cowboy interrupted the tension. “We ain’t alone…”

Without waiting to be summoned, you moved up the steps into view and put on your best apathetic face. You lifted a brow and looked between the three of them before marching up to Kano and shoving the small box towards him. “Here,” He smirked as he held the package between both hands and cocked his head to the side to eye your body like he always did. “Ahhh, Love...I know I can always rely on you. Unlike some fuckin’ people.” You flinched as he pitted you against Kabal, trying not to look at the man as his breathing picked up more loudly through the tubes in his mask, and the leather of his gloves squealed as he clenched his fists. 

“Don’t use me to call out your hired killers, Kano.” Your sass didn’t seem to bother the man, actually he grinned in earnest and pinched his tongue between his teeth as he chuckled at your discomfort. You gave a nod to the cowboy, Erron, who’d always at least left you alone, then turned your attention to Kabal---the stare down was too intense and you quickly looked away to march back down the pedestal. You all but ran to the back room, tucking yourself in a corner and pressing your palm into your chest, where your heart hammered away. 

Nobody had EVER looked at you the way that man had. Like you were a bug pinned under a glass, wriggling and praying for an end. There was no doubt in your mind he wanted you dead. 

Oh, how wrong you were.

He’d been the one to recruit you, bringing attention to Kano that they needed more couriers---that his specialized armor and respiratory gear needed to be handled carefully and that if you had the capacity to do that you could handle any delivery job they threw at you. You see, the thing was, he used to live in your apartment building. He’d seen you before, as covert as his presence in the public eye was, he made a point to be there when you’d leave your apartment. Because, well fuck, you were beautiful, and he liked seeing you. He liked when you got your mail, because you’d always grumble at your shitty key for sticking in the mailbox slot. He liked when you’d wander, sleepy, down the hallways of your floor (his as well) to your apartment after a long day of whatever the hell you did before you’d go work their backstock at night. He loved when you’d knock on the neighbor’s doors when they had packages, just in case anyone was home, so they wouldn’t get stolen. He liked you. And he could never, ever talk to you. Not with his burns, not as he was--a fucking monster trapped in a mobile oxygen tank. 

But here, in the depraved, violent pit of Black Dragons he was your superior, and he could---in theory---confront you on eavesdropping on your employers. Kabal watched you leave, before looking to Kano and snatching the box out of his hands. The Aussie chuckled and followed the trajectory of Kabal’s eyes, tilting his head again to watch your ass pillow against your thighs with each step. Erron was the first to speak, doing a better job of concealing his own stare. “You know, you could probably fuck her if you wanted.” Kabal felt his temperature spike and he snapped at the gunslinger. “The fuck you talkin about, Black?”

“You’ve been eye fucking that sweet little cunt since you got her a job here, Kabal.” Kano joined in on the ribbing, scratching idly at his gratuitous chest hair as he spoke. Suddenly, Kabal wasn’t interested in being there anymore and put  the hook sword he’d drawn back in its spot at his back, storming down the steps to get lost in the crowd. Erron looked to Kano, lifting a brow. “You’re gonna use this against him.” Kano’s smile to the statement was downright foul. “Abso-fuckin-lutely.”

Three Weeks Later….

You had forgotten the incident for the most part to preserve your sanity, it wasn’t great that one-third of your bosses hated your guts, the other two either wanted to fuck you in front of a crowd, or ignore you. Not quite sure what you did to Kabal, you couldn’t help but wonder, even if you did your best not to linger. It was hard when he kept popping up wherever you went in the club, especially when you wound up being part of the packing crew when they moved locations. This was the third time you’d helped them do so since being forced into their employment, and at first you just groaned inwardly---figuring Kabal was there to oversee the proceedings went quickly and without issue. But as the night progressed, you realized it was more like he was there to oversee YOU. He watched you, his mask moving back and forth as you worked until it irked you to the point of lashing out. 

To his surprise, you dropped one of the boxes you’d been hauling into the truck and spun on your heel to face him. You looked pissed, and cleared the space between the two of you so quickly that for a moment he absurdly thought perhaps you had been blessed with speed as well. Shaking off the thought, he looked down at you, arms crossed over his chest as you stopped just out of reach. “Can we talk?” He grunted, tightening his arms over his chest and nodding for you to continue. “We’re talking now.” Your scowl deepend. “No we’re not. I want to talk to you in private.” Kabal would’ve been embarrassed at how fast his heart started beating--if you could see the eager expression on his face. Since you couldn’t he recovered thanks to your ignorance and nodded for you to follow. He took you to a back room, one of the VIP areas that had booths, curtains and doors to conceal anything that happened in there---he didn’t know why he took you in there other than he just---he wanted you alone. As you followed you had the distinct feeling he was taking you somewhere, where he could kill you without making a scene. 

Bravely you followed anyway.

He closed the door behind you when you finally made it into the VIP suite , surprising you but the gesture was intimidating at best so you took it for a tactic. He leaned against the door, effectively trapping you in the room with him, and you did a good job of making it seem like it didn’t bother you, but you were starting to panic. You crossed your arms over your chest, shrinking in size and he realized that you were getting defensive, clearly upset by something he was doing and he swallowed hard at the thought he was making you scared. He was pretty sure you were one of the few people he didn’t want to be scared of him. “So,” He tried to jump start the conversation, “What’s so important you needed me alone to talk about it?”

“Us.”

Kabal jerked, almost uncrossing his arms as he pressed his back into the door behind him. “What?” You rolled your eyes and pulled your shoulders up to your ears to seem even smaller. “You and Me. I think we have a problem.” Shit, did you find out he’d been idly stalking you for months? Kabal started to tap his fingers tunelessly against his bicep, he opened his mouth to question your statement but you beat him to it. “You’ve been glaring--looking at me for weeks. Did I fuck up or something? Kano got you on my tail?” Yeah, you were defensive. Shit.

Kabal pushed from the door, causing you to take a step back and look down at your shoes, he’d never seen you so meek before and it felt like a blow to his ego. It was how he looked wasn’t it? He couldn’t blame you, he could barely stomach looking at himself in a mirror, someone like you would probably struggle to see that there was a man still there. “You do something---?” “No!” Your shout made him pause, but not stop, as he took another step towards you. You mimicked him by taking a step back every time he took one forward, until eventually the back of your knees were hitting the love seat that sat up against the far wall. You fell into a sit, startling you enough to make you yelp and pull your hands up to cover your face. He was going to kill you, this was it.

Hands wrapped around your own, the leather was warm and you didn’t manage much of a fight as Kabal pulled your hands away so he could see you. “You’re scared of me..” His tone made you pause now, your eyes peeling open slowly to gaze up at him--his mask--confused. The expression on your face was so puzzled he almost had to look away from you, it was--god you did things to him. “I’m not scared of you.” Kabal scoffed and lowered your hands into your lap, he crouched down so that you were both face to ‘face’. “If you aren’t scared, why are you shaking?” 

“You hate me! I’m just tired of waiting for you to decide to kill me!”

The barking laughter that rioted around the small room scared you, and you fought to tug your fists back up in front of  your face, Kabal didn’t let you and he had to take steadying breaths to calm himself. Is that what the problem had been? This whole time? “I don’t hate you,” Your ensuing pout almost undid him again--not for the first time he cursed being unable to capture your lip with his teeth. “Then what is your deal?!” You didn’t plan on letting him stay amused, frustration and fear were a heady mixture in your chest and you were tired of being trapped in the limbo of unknowing. He seemed to consider your question, letting go of your hands to rest his arms across the top of his thighs, breathing steady as he stayed in your proximity. He couldn’t back up even if he’d wanted to, you had been so warm under his hands. Even through the gloves you felt like how he’d imagined.

“Who do you think wanted you here?” “Kano said he--” He shook his head, cutting you off suddenly. “It was me,” A chill ran up your spine and settled like ice in your brain, making the whirring cogs of thought stall as you tried to understand just what he was trying to get at. Kabal continued when you didn’t say anything. “I know you, outside of work, we lived in the same building.”

No way. No fucking way.

“You….pulled strings to get me a permanent job here so you could stalk me?” Kabal felt his heart rate spike. “NO! Yes...I mean no! It’s not like that!” Your frustration spiked to match his panic and you stood up suddenly, ignoring how close he was and winding up standing between his knees with your crotch in his face. He stood up quickly to avoid how awkward that would be and in turn loomed over you. You jabbed a finger into his chest, touching the small bit of damaged skin he let show and the contact made his hands shake. “Then what’s it like, Kabal? Cause right now I’m thinking there’s way too much you’re not telling me” 

He finally turned from you and marched off towards the door, for a moment you thought he was going to leave but he turned back to you and you realized he was pacing. “Fuck!” His hands moved to his hair, tugging on the strands as he tried to think on just how he could salvage this. He was coming up blank and the anxiety in his chest was compounded by your silence. “Listen, I--” He looked at you, you looked so scared and it was killing him. “I didn’t know how ok?!” He finally stopped, buzzing with stress as he stared at the ground and dug his fingers into his scalp. “Look at me! I’m a fuckin’ freak and you’re gorgeous and what was I gonna do? Just fuckin’ ask you out for coffee?!”

You felt your fear start to trickle into realization, he didn’t hate you---he definitely didn’t want you dead. Taking a deep breath, you uncrossed your arms and let your body relax. “Kabal, I--” He put a hand up, shaking his head as if to tell you to spare letting him down easy. “Just say it. Just tell me right now you’re not interested so I can go.” But you weren’t sure about how cut and dry your answer was anymore. He’d lived in your apartment building? He’d seen you, you tried to conjure a memory of ever seeing him and found yourself drawing blanks, you didn’t think he was lying, even if you couldn’t remember him. “I’ve never seen you.” You kept surprising him, he was puzzled and stared at you hard, you could just imagine the look of confusion on his face behind the mask. “I’m, uh, I was in 12b.” Suddenly, your back straightened and you shoved a finger at his face. “You’re Chow Mein guy!?” That was not what he expected to hear, but the memory of when you had accidentally stumbled over his take-out one night, when you’d been particularly fragged from your job, came to the forefront of his mind and he couldn’t help it---he huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Yeah...Yeah I’m chow mein guy.” You’d bought him take out to make up for what you’d done to his food and asked the delivery guy to tell him you were sorry. It was sweet.

The tension bled from the room and a feeling of awkwardness settled in, you looked back to the love seat behind you and thumbed a gesture at it. “Do you uh, do you have time to talk more?” He felt hope well up in his gut for the first time in years, nodding slowly as he joined you. You hadn’t told him you weren’t interested.

A month later….

Getting close to Kabal had been one of the more difficult aspects of your position with the Dragons, but eventually you had convinced him that he could start visiting your apartment if fraternizing in public was uncomfortable for him. He joked that you were just trying to get him alone, his humor was a trait you found you quite liked about him, and you reminded him that it was him who’d started it. He’d agreed and you both wound up sitting on your couch, awkwardly watching the news as you ate cheesy crackers from a styrofoam cup you’d found in your sink. 

He was nervous, his skin clammy as he tried to pay attention to the news and not the way you licked salt from your fingers after each cracker. You knew he was nervous because he did this little thing with his leg, where he’d jiggle it so fast it wasn’t noticeable unless you looked for it. As a joke, you suddenly put your hand on his knee, causing him to jump, and grinned at him. Leaning in, you set your chin on his shoulder, “Hey.” He snorted and stared at the TV rather than the smug look on your cute little face. ”Go away,” You looked scandalized, gasping and leaning back, but not before wiping your cheese fingers on his pant leg. “HEY!”

You laughed, trying to crawl away from him but he’d grabbed you by the ribs and pulled you back to him, lifting you up and wiping the spot on his leg where you had smeared cheese dust with your butt. He didn’t realize what he’d done until he felt the plushness of your ass drag across the top of his thigh, and your laughter suddenly got very quiet and airy. Kabal gulped, setting you down on the cushion next to him and slowly, cautiously, he leaned against you and let his warm bulk rest on your back. It was platonic sort of, he was just resting his chest on you and letting you lean back into him as you shook your head at his antics. “Hey.” He copied your earlier ploy at getting his attention and you turned your head to press your cheek into the side of his mask--he could feel your breath moving his hair. “Hey you,” 

Kabal didn’t know how to take it any farther, just knew that he wanted to, but you met him halfway by wiggling back until you were seated on his thighs and he had no other option than to wrap his thick arms around your belly. You couldn’t help what this warm, comfortable sense of belonging did to you, heat pooled in your belly and spread like wildfire between your legs--especially with Kabal’s thick, muscular thighs twitching underneath you. You remembered how hard it was for him to open up, the month after your first real confrontation with him had given you insight into his self-doubt and loathing and you had worked hard to let him know and feel that it was safe with you. It was a surprise to you both, that in that period of time where you’d allowed yourselves to get to know one another, that being around him was like second nature. Sighing, you grabbed his forearms and moved his hands from your waist to your chest, guiding his hands with your own and enjoying how it felt to have your breasts palmed by someone other than yourself. You shivered as he grunted and bowed against you to press your ass back into his erection, a little pleased at how quickly he’d reacted to you. “Touch me?” He shivered at your breathy tone and took your lead, working the soft flesh of your breasts through your shirt with careful enthusiasm. “Fuck yes.”

You rolled your hips, giving him some friction and yourself a test of the hot, heavy shape of his cock through his pants. His wheezing groan pulled more heat to your pussy and you could feel slickness seep into the apex of your inseam. Kabal suddenly let go of you, causing you to whine at the absence of his heat, “Wait, please don’t sto--” You were cut off by his now naked hands sliding up under your shirt and pushing your bra up to rub rough circles into your nipples. You gasped, hips bucking at the sensation and he leaned you forward until you were trapped under his bulk and he was rocking his hips into your ass. You readily accepted the new position and propped yourself up with your elbows on the arm of your couch. 

“God, I wish you could kiss me.” Kabal didn’t pause, but he gave a groan of pain and picked up his pace. “Fuck, me too--” “We could” “No.” He regretted how quickly he replied, but you didn’t seem hurt by it, something about you he found unbearably attractive, you just rolled with his boundaries when you encountered them. You simply nodded and gave a mean little buck of your hips into him right when he pushed in to grind against you. “Just don’t stop.” He wouldn’t dream of it, instead he bunched your shirt up over your breasts along with your bra, letting them hang free as he pulled back far enough to get his hands down to your hips where he gave the same treatment to your thin-as-fuck pajama pants. With your skin on display, Kabal had to stop grinding into you or he’d get too worked up. He’d wanted this for the better part of a year and never thought it’d happen, now here you were arching your back and presenting your glistening pussy to him with a desperation that mirrored his own. He trailed a hand from your hip to between your legs, sliding his middle finger up your seam and collecting the slickness there on the digit before he spread you open and moaned. “Fuck, Baby. How’d you get wet so fast? You look like a fuckin dream.” Your shy little laugh made him bolder, he slipped a finger up from your clit to your entrance and swirled the wet digit around, when your hips started shaking he stopped and pressed it in. 

You keened loudly, slamming a hand over your mouth and burying your face into your arms, he used his whole body to rock his finger into you, crooking it against the roof of your cunt. “No, no Baby, don't hide from me. Let me hear you, I wanna fuckin’ hear you cum for me.” 

You shakily nodded and uncovered your mouth, gasping out his name as you started rocking your hips in time with the slow pumping of his finger in and out. More liquid built around it, causing a lewd, wet sound to fill your ears and you couldn’t have been any redder in the face. “K-kabal, please I don’t---I don’t wanna cum like this..” He laughed, it was stupid sexy how confidence sounded on him and you perhaps meanly wished you’d known him back when he didn’t have trouble acting that way. “How do you wanna cum?” He added another finger that made you squeak, voice cracking on a moan as the pressure began to build. “You want my cock, Baby? You wanna cum on my dick?” You sobbed his name and he knew then that he couldn’t push you anymore than that, he didn’t have the desire to make either of you wait anymore. 

With your back to him, he pulled back from you, still stroking your insides with his fingers as he undid his belt, the clink of the buckle made your hips jerk up in anticipation and the dark chuckle he uttered at the sight only made you shake harder. He made quick work of his pants, pulling his aching cock free and slipping his hands out of you. Your hips chased his fingers but he alternated hands, wrapping his wet fingers around his cock to stroke your slick across his skin, the other darted out to grab your ass. Keeping you still for him. “Don’t be quiet, I wanna hear how good I feel.” You looked over your shoulder at him, blinking slowly and giving him a single nod--you’d both waited too long. He pressed his cockhead against your folds, rubbing it up and down for a few passes before he pressed in hard, you were tight and his temples ached as he clenched his teeth and finally slipped inside of you with one, smooth push. You wailed, dragging your nails across the armrest, your entire body went rigid and shook so hard he had to let go of himself to grab your hips and pop his hips forward, shoving the rest of his length inside of you. Now hilted, he had to breath to control himself, you were throbbing around him. “Fuck, I can feel your fuckin pulse, you gonna cum already?” You shook your head to deny it, once again hiding your face in your folded arms, but he wouldn’t let you---he needed to hear you. “Yeah you are, you’re gonna cum for me.”

He snapped his hips back, then started a brutal pace, pistoning his hips and pulling you back into each thrust as he lost himself in you. He was so thick, you’d just barely adjusted to him before he was dragging that girthy cock across every inch of you it could reach, striking at your g-spot like a match--sending sparks through your body until you lost the ability to keep your back arched and he held your hips up so he could keep fucking you. Your voice cracked again as you cried his name, devolving into a breathless plea for more that made his back straighten and his guts coil. He could feel the ache for you in every inch of him, from crest to root, right down to his balls, that started tightening faster than he had wanted. It felt like he’d been hard for you for years, wanting and never thinking he could have you---he fantasized with abandon and now here you were--begging for him to make you cum. And cum you did. He reached around to wrap a palm across your belly, pulled you up and back into his hips until he was barely pulling an inch out of you as he fucked deep into your squeezing insides. He could feel himself pushing into you through your soft stomach against his palm, taking quiet pride in how close he was getting to your belly button when he would bottom out. You came with a shout, body stiffening as you clenched around him and squeezed your thighs together to put pressure on your aching clit. His vision blurred, his own hips stuttered up into yours and he was scrambling quickly to pull out. Thick cum painted the back of your thighs, your ass and despite his best efforts, across your pussy lips. He cursed, but couldn’t stop himself from stroking out the last of his orgasm onto your trembling body. You collapsed without his hands on you, lying prone over the arm of your couch and trying very hard to catch your breath. 

His naked hand on your hip, shifting you to roll over onto your side woke you from your daze and you blinked up at him, a warm smile on your exhausted face. You couldn’t see it, but you know he was smiling, perhaps in disbelief as the sexual tension that had been building between the two of you disappeared in favor of the afterglow. He pushed your hair out of your face with his least sticky hand and you managed to kiss his palm before he took the hand back. “You got cum on my couch..” He laughed then, standing up as he tucked himself away and reaching for you. “I did, but I think more than just that, right?” You laughed and let him haul you up into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist and your arms around his neck as you dozed. He took you to your room, laying you out as he looked for something to clean you up with, he found an old shirt on the floor and decided he’d deal with your complaining later. Once cleaned, he joined you in the bed, pulling your sleepy self into him and wrapping his arms around you. You tilted your head back to place a kiss he wished he could feel across the chin piece of his mask, assuring him through a whisper that you were on the pill, which made him laugh again. 

You were ridiculous, but you were His sort of ridiculous.

[blackwidow-bby]

Never Be The Same- Mafia!Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompt: Mafia Boss au but y/n kidnaps the mafia boss

Warnings: Cursing, violence, gun mention and gun use, kidnapping

AN: I saw this prompt from a tiktok where someone asked "your favorite trope but reverse" so I did it.

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

It wasn't often that you got anonymous letters sent to you by someone looking for your "services". You had left the spy life years ago with a little help from the Witness Protection Program in order to pursue a much quieter life doing...well currently you were just working as a florist. Before that you cleaned headstones at the towns local graveyard, which was scarily a lot bigger than the town you were in. You had quit that job when you got the first anonymous letter on the steps of the shed where you kept your tools. The thought of someone knowing where you worked, hell, who you were, especially when they shouldn't spooked you more than working in the graveyard around sunset.

The request wasn't for anything serious. A simple adult-napping job of some woman. The stranger who left the note definitely specified that they wanted the target alive. It would have been an easy job with some extra cash to put in your pocket, but instead you jumped ship and quit that day and moved to another apartment complex. You even went so far as to get a P.O. Box instead of using the complex's mail. The threat wasn't that big to get the government involved in relocating you again.

You almost you wish you could go back in time to the early morning before you received the letter by some covered stranger. Your skin turned white when you saw the simple little envelope with your old agent code name; Viper.

Sneaky and deadly, you always knew the perfect moment to strike. Whoever this person was had to have also been an old agent from the same organization you worked for. That was the only way you could explain away the anxiety that boiled in the pit of your stomach. Once was an instance, but twice is a hobby, you decide you'll at least think about taking the job. Opening the envelope, your heart started to pound quickly inside its cage. You can't believe you were about to put yourself in this position after leaving it for so long.

The letter read:

Dear Viper;

It has been many years since the last time I've seen your face, the first time I thought you were a ghost. Certainly after seeing your face again, I knew for sure my mind wasn't fooling me. It is with a heavy heart that I ask for your help. Unfortunately a family member of mine had found themselves in trouble with a mafia member. Unable to keep their end of whatever bargain, the mob killed him. I need you to find the person who did this to my brother and bring them to me completely unharmed. I want them conscious, I want my face to be the last ting they see before I get revenge for a member of my family ceasing to live among those that loved them.

The target's name is Natasha Romanoff. At the bottom I've left a burner number and an address if you do decide to take my offer this time, the payment will be handsomely.

Much Thanks;

Otter

Natasha Romanoff? Sounds mafia enough to you. Gods, what a messed up situation to get into. Would it really be enough to possibly have to change your identity again? What if this person was important to this group and they decided to come after you? You sat in silence thinking for a long time if any of this was really worth it. There was a tiny voice that peeped up in the back of your mind. You had been kinda bored lately, this could be the spice you need to add back an old pep in your step.

It was decided. You'll get to work searching for this person in the morning. Wow, that took so much persuasion.

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

You got started early the next day. Definitely not due to not being able to sleep in the first place. Oh no. Thanks to the nerves building up over putting yourself in a shitty position. Luckily for you though, this Natasha woman wasn't hard to find at all. The mafia she was affiliated with, operated in the city near the town you lived in. They also apparently seemed to operate most of their business out of a simple pet shop. This has to be the inner workings of a screen writer, you thought to yourself.

Your nerves began to get the best of you on your walk back home. It seemed like everyone's eyes were suddenly on you, like they knew exactly what you were up to. You picked up your speed and released a breath you didn't realize you were holding when you saw the steps to your apartment complex. You quickly ran inside up to your floor and slammed the door behind you. Gosh your nerves were starting to annoy you. How did you ever make it as a top agent is beyond you thinking of the position you were currently in. All feelings aside, you pressured n to pack for the trip you'll soon be taking to the city. It was going to be another long night.

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

Your trip to the city was surprisingly smooth. Light traffic. Sun was out. If not for this little mission, if you could call it that, the day would have been perfect to do some sight seeing. You found the "pet shop" just as easy as well. You set up camp on the side of the street in front of the building to see if your target would possibly show up today. You were really hoping this didn't turn into a multi-day stake out. just wanting to get all of this over as quickly as possible so you can go back into hiding again.

It took about 7 hours, well into the late afternoon, before you spotted her walk in. Surprisingly, she was alone. Perfect, time to move in. You got out of your car and casually walked around the side of the business to see if there happened to be a door. The alleyway of the building was dark enough that anyone on the street wouldn't be able to see in. The sound of a creaky metal door could be heard just around the corner. You guess the back will have to do. As you got closer to the sound, you saw the woman in the back of the building talking with a man. You couldn't make out a single word they were saying. Their conversation wasn't important though, only getting her to Otter was.

Your heart began to race as the moment to make your move came closer. This is what you had trained for your whole life. The stealth and ability to make a move without anyone around you knowing until it was too late. Your eyes trained on the red-head in the back of the building. You gave a silent prayer to whoever was listening that the person she was with, would leave her alone for just one second. That's all you needed; one second.

Suddenly, it was as if all of the puzzle pieces fell into place. He left to go back inside. Time slowed down in an instant. You immediately released a breath through your mouth and moved in. You could see every single moment, all of the steps you took right up to behind her. Watching her turn around carefully but never hearing you step up behind her. At the very last second when she had finally caught sight, one hand reached but to grab her arm and pin it behind her back while the other reached around her head with a chloroform rag to incapacitate her.

The hard part was done. The red-haired woman fell limp in your arms, so you maneuvered her into a bridal position to easily carry her to your car. Time was of the essence. Someone would be coming to look for her soon. Swiftly and quietly, you walked back through the alley and reached your car. Knowing you had some time before she woke up, you could stop later to tie her hands and legs once you were farther away from the city. You placed her down in the back seat before getting in the front and driving away. You let out the most dramatic exhale and looked for the letter Otter had given you of his number and location.

One ring

Two rings

So you did take my offer?

Yes, I'm headed to the location now.

Excellent, thank you for your work.

Yeah, whatever.

Click

You drove on for another half an hour before you reached the location. It was an old abandoned warehouse settled 20 minutes in the opposite direction from the city. The sun was completely settled at this point making the surroundings very dark. The sky had an almost purple glow from the towns nearby lights. Getting out, you circled the car to the back passenger door to remove the woman and bring her inside. She was still passed out from the chloroform only stirring slightly as you picked her up.

Maybe it was the exhaustion catching up to you, but you don't remember her being this heavy. Trudging the knocked out woman inside, you found a small chair and placed her down. Your timing was sort of off and thought better to tie down her hands and legs now before checking her pockets for any weapons or forms of identification. The woman's head lulled from left to right while you searched. You found a knife on her belt holster, a small revolver tucked in the back of her pants, a wallet, and a set of keys but not car keys. Her eyes started to flutter while you fingered through the wallet. Nothing important, a drivers license, a couple of business cards from the "pet store", and a what looked like a family photo. The people in the photo looked familiar to you, very familiar.

"What are you doing with that?" The woman mumbled in your direction. You looked her in the eye not saying anything. The woman was gorgeous with the single light shining down on her causing an angelic glow upon the crown of her head. Her red tresses seemed to almost burn in your presence. You looked away from her and continued to inspect the photo she kept in her wallet.

"Who are these people with you?"

Her head lulled once more, "Why do you want to know?"

"Answering a question with a question won't help you. What is your affiliation with the mafia?"

"I'm their fucking boss."

In that instance your eyes widened. Of course, that's why the men in the photo looked familiar to you. She was the fucking heir to one of the top mafia rings in the country. This idiot, Otter, wanted you to bring in the living heir and current head hancho for what she did to a simple family member that got caught up in the wrong group. The sweat was beginning to pour now that you realized you were absolutely fucked.

Before you could say anything else, Otter, the man of the hour, busted trough the doors.

"Viper! I knew I could count on you!"

"What the fuck man?! You really had me capture the fucking mafia BOSS?! We're both going to be fucked if you don't explain everything right now, Otter." You were sweating rivers at this point. Utterly frustrated and hot in the warehouse. The red-head was slowly coming to 100% but her eyes still couldn't fully focus.

"Calm down Viper. Your work is done with me. I'll cover everything up and you can go back to your quiet life."

"Over?! If you don't give me a very good reason to leave her here in your possession, I'm taking her with me." you were shouting at this point. The red-head was now staring at the both of you dumbfounded at the whole situation everyone was in.

"She killed my brother!" You swore you could see steam coming off of his head. "She killed him and left him to rot!"

"Your brother was nothing but scum who tried to steal weapons from me to sell for himself." She had responded this time. Otter quickly pulled out a gun from his pocket and aimed it at the woman.

"He would never have done anything to harm his family or himself!"

She didn't falter her glare one single bit, even with a weapon pointed at her head. "He'd be living a healthy fulfilling life had he not crossed me."

He cocked the gun this time. "Shut up you stupid bitch!"

A smirk played on her lips, she was enjoying getting a rise out of him. Like she knew something the both of you didn't know. Like she knew no matter her outcome someone would always be out there searching for both of you for the rest of your lives until you got caught, or god forbid, kill yourselves to keep from being caught. Your nerves were spiking again, you couldn't let Otter kill Natasha Romanoff.

You sucked a quick gasp. Otter didn't notice but Natasha did. You had her gun.

Natasha's eyes darted back and forth between you and Otter. He was getting upset at the fact that her attention wasn't solely on him. The arm that was holding the gun stopped its falter and held up straight to Natasha's face. "Look at me! I want my face to be the last thing you see when I kill you, you stu-"

BANG

Natasha jumped. She had seen the whole thing take place but didn't really expect you to do it. She could see the tremble in in your hands as they stayed in the same spot. Your eyes were wide, lip quivering, you couldn't believe what you had done and now you had a new problem to cover up. Natasha had a look of empathy in her eyes. You didn't want to be in this position from the get go and it had only gotten worse for you.

"Hey, look at me..." Natasha spoke up softly to break your trance. She had leaned her body towards you in a manner to reach out. "You can put the gun down, its going to be okay now." Your eyes darted down to the gun and back up to Natasha's green eyes. Still shaking you slowly lowered the gun to the ground before you walked over to her cautiously. Tears were falling down your face, the weight of the situation was hitting you. If you had never agreed to Otter's request, you would be cozied up in your bed, awaiting another new day.

Your fingers found Natasha's bound wrists. her skin was surprisingly cool to the touch. She stared at your face the whole time you unwrapped her from the chair. The fresh tears leaving clear trails down your slightly dirtied cheeks. The slight glow of your e/c eyes under the florescent lights of the warehouse. You knelt down in front of her to then remove the binding on her ankles. Something within her compelled her to reach out to you. Without even realizing it, the red-heads palm was already resting on your head. She reveled in the silky smooth feel of your h/c locks. The slight dampness from the sweat that had overcome your skin. She could feel the softness of your fingers slowly circling around her last ankle when your sad eyes looked up to hers.

"How did you manage to capture me without anyone seeing you?" Her hand slipped down to your cheek. "In all of my years, I have not once not heard someone creep up behind me the way you did."

The steady stream of tears grew heavier, your quiet life was about to be destroyed by your own need for a change. She would certainly have your feet for getting a one up on her.

"It was my job. I was known for being so light on my toes, no one could hear me coming." your voice wavered, but the words got out.

"Well I could use someone like you by my side." Natasha held out her hand to you as she got up on her feet. Not really having her ground, she nearly fell when you caught her by the waist. The two of you held your breath as you both stared deeply into each others eyes. You could swear if you inhaled, her scent would be enough to drive you mad. "My guys will cover all of this up for you."

You sat and thought about everything she said. The would would probably prove more exciting than working at a flower shop and probably be more fruitful. You smiled at her. You could feel her warm breath near your lips.

"When do I start?"

[punkcupcakestyles]

Just One More Time

A story about enemies, neighbors and one night stands that are left in the past...

“Fuuuuuck!!!!!”

It is never nice to see a lady yell such a bad word with such passion and rage, but given the chain of shitty events of the day, you considered to have a pass, thank you fucking much. 

The heel of your very expensive shoe laid on the floor broken, mocking you under the little ray of moonlight that sneaked through the high window in the hallway. The only thing you could see besides your closed door.

Rain clattered against the windows and every new thunder made you jump a little. You knew very well that there was no one else on the hallways with you, but your heart was still jumping in your chest, and if you focused hard enough, you could see creepy figures running across the walls. 

So, you closed your eyes and rushed a little prayer as you continued to look for your stupid keys in your tiny purse as if there was any chance for them to get lost in such a reduced space. 

The cold of the night had sipped up to your body, and your drenched clothes and wet hair certainly didn’t help the matter. By now, all of the effort you had put into your hair and makeup was surely gone, and your mascara was probably building up under your eyes. A drowned, harassed rat, the lyrics to the iconic and underrated Let’s Have a Kiki, sadly fit you. 

A self-pitying sigh left your glossy lips and you decided that you might as well lean on the door and press your forehead to it, giving up to the pathetic reality that was that night. How much would a locksmith ask to come to your apartment in the middle of the night during a blackout? And, more importantly, would they take your liver as payment? Those were the important questions. 

“Are you ok?” Your neighbor’s voice rang in the air, as he opened the door to his apartment to look at you.

Of course, he would come out then, when the wet ends of your hair stuck to your skin, and you were barefoot in front of your locked apartment. Could he have come out earlier in the night when you were looking like a goddess ready to conquer the world? No, he could not. 

“Fuck off, Harry,” you muttered, not bothering to look at him. You already knew how he looked, it was always present in your mind. 

“Heeeey, I’m just trying to be nice.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were capable of that.”

“You know I can be really good when I want to.”

You knew it well. You still remembered the feeling of his body on top of yours, his hips rolling onto yours, as he fucked you deep and hard. 

“I wouldn’t know,” you gulped, refusing to give in even if your red face told another story. 

But he knew. Sometimes, when he was all alone, all he could think about was that night and the way your back arched as he had his fingers deep in your pussy. 

****

The day you and Harry fucked each other brainless, Ms. Rose’s cat died. You remembered well because it was also the third day and fifth hour of your heartbreak when you heard your sweet old neighbor’s cries and you rushed to her help, coming out of your sad little bubble for the woman that baked you cookies and knitted you a purple scarf and a pair of gloves for the winter. 

When you arrived at Ms. Rose’s apartment, Harry was already there, sitting on the battered pink couch and holding her hand as she cried timidly into a handkerchief with embroidered blue flowers. She had long quit trying to come up with words, cause every time she opened her mouth, she would just blabber and sob inconsolably, so she accepted Harry’s help to explain what had happened. 

Your brain gathered very few details of what was being said, choosing to focus instead on the boy sitting next to Ms. Rose. Harry was wearing a graphic t-shirt with light blue jeans and his hair was still wet from his shower, a stubborn curl falling over his forehead. You didn’t know why you would notice things like that in moments like this, but you did, you always did.  Especially in the morning when he would come back from his early run, and he would take off his sweaty shirt right by his door, revealing his broad shoulders and his lean body, the tautness of his chest, and the ink that spilled across his tan skin. You would always roll your eyes at him and scurry down the stairs to get as far away from him as you possibly could, pretending you wouldn’t look at him. 

So, you stood by the door because it was the safest place you could be, it was Harry-free. The air felt electric whenever you got too close to him. 

“Do you fancy some tea, Miss Rosie?” Harry asked and the richness of his accent echoed down your body. Your eyes met as he got up, and you held your breath, as Harry got unnecessarily closer to you on his way to the kitchen. You could’ve sworn he had done so on purpose, the same reason why he had brushed his knuckles over yours, the light touch of his knuckles making you shiver and look at him as he walked away. 

You needed to stay away from him, indeed. 

“It’ll be alright, Ms. Rose,” you whispered to your old neighbor as you took Harry’s place on the couch, but as the words left your lips, you had to wonder if that was true. Would everything be alright? The world seemed a little bleaker now. Boyfriends cheated. Cats died. There was no one to trust left. 

Ms. Rose reluctantly ate the cookies Harry set up for her and drank the ginger tea he had made. He sat by her other side and rubbed her back as she calmed herself down. If she didn’t, one of you might have to sleep on that couch, and you were praying it wasn’t you, cause your black dress would not do well with cat hair all over it. 

But two hours later, Ms. Rose was soundly asleep and you left her apartment as carefully as you could, walking on your tiptoes so you wouldn’t wake her up. There was no elevator in your old building, which you had grown used to and usually liked, except when you had to walk up the stairs with someone else, because you never knew what to say, and today, as you walked a step ahead of Harry, it wasn’t any different. 

“I didn’t know you had a heart,” You said, just as you turned to go up the last trench of stairs.

“I like Ms. Rose, and my mom always says that some tea and biscuits can fix anything,” Harry replied, and even though you couldn’t see him, you could imagine him shrugging his shoulders as a smirk started to tug up the corner of his lips. He liked Ms. Rose, he would come to her aid if she needed him. It was just that...

“So, you wouldn’t come if I was the one crying?” You turned suddenly, almost making him lose his balance and fall back down the stairs. 

“Would you do it if it were me?” He asked you instead, looking up to you. He was closer than you had expected, and you suddenly felt the need to step back, so you wouldn’t feel the warmth of his body, or could smell the citric perfume on his skin. 

“Of course not...” Your door was right behind you, so all you had to do was turn around and walk a few more steps. “You probably did something to deserve it,” you smirked, just as you resumed your way to your door. 

“I would consider it,” Harry said, and you scoffed in disbelief, turning around to look at him only to notice he was standing behind you, his broad shoulder blocking the little bit of sun that came through the window. Winter was coming, so the sun was starting to fuck around his day job. 

“Would you?”

“I’ve been thinking about knocking on your door these last few days, ask if you were ok,” Harry admitted.

There was a new feeling in the air. Any other day, you would have bitten back with some snarky remark, but it didn’t feel right. Harry stood too close to you and your body had become too aware of his presence. So you kept quiet, leaning back to your door with your hands tucked behind your back as you looked at him. 

All Harry had to do was say goodbye and walk a few steps to his door, but he didn’t feel like it. He could feel the air shift as well, and the electric pull that tugged him from his belly to yours. 

“So, do you want some tea and biscuits?” He offered, even though he wasn’t too sure what he was doing, or where he was going. His voice was soft, and his body leaned into the very same door you were using as support.

What if you said yes? He wasn’t even sure he had any cookies left. 

The crumbly taste of ginger and vanilla lingered in Harry’s tongue, and you sighed at the prickly lemon on his lips. You had imagined how it would be to kiss him a couple of times before when your mind would drift away from your control, but even you had to admit that kissing him in real life was better. 

Against every expectation, he was slow with his kiss, exploring your mouth as if he had all the time in the world. You had expected a hungrier kiss you, for him to bite you and make you jump in his arms so he could carry you into your apartment, throw you to your bed and fuck you. 

Instead, he was taking over every one of your senses. He smelled sweet and citric, and the cotton of his shirt felt soft under your fingertips, as you made your way underneath it. You smiled as he inhaled a sharp breath, and the kiss broke when he smiled, the muscles of his tummy tensing up at your touch. When he kissed you again, it was a little more urgent, his tongue sweeping up across your bottom lip to part them and play with your own as he kissed you deeply, the weight of his body pinning you against the door as you blindly tried to open it. His kiss was maddening, demanding, and soft at the same time, and his leg slid between your tights, spreading them apart so you could feel him everywhere. 

“What about your boyfriend?” Harry asked, grazing his words over your lips, as you managed to open the door.  Your tummy fluttered at the feeling, and you opened your eyes to look at him, his swollen lips and his dark eyes. Nothing else was on your mind.

“Do you really care?”

“I have my morals...Especially if I’m gonna see him around.”

“We broke up,” you replied, already looking for his lips again, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him once more. But Harry was quicker, and he tilted his head back and smiled mischievously at you as you pouted. 

“You’re always breaking up,” he said, which was true. 

“How would you know?”

“These walls are fucking paper-thin.”

“Really? No wonder I always hear when you fuck.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew wider and the need that had settled between your legs throbbed tightly as he tilted his head down, until his breath fanned over your skin and you could feel each one of his words drawing on your skin. “You like listening, babe?”

It reverberated down to your tummy and raised havoc in your brain. Did you like listening to him as he fucked other girls? Of course, you didn’t. But sometimes, you had to wonder...

“Where do you get them? They’re all so loud.”

“You should try it.”

“Scream?”

“Letting me fuck you. The screams are a bonus.”

“I bet they do it out of pity.”

“Wanna find out?”

You didn’t allow yourself to think things through, because if you did, the answer would’ve been a resounding no. Fuck, no. Of course not. Keep dreaming, Styles. 

Your fingers tangled in Harry’s hair as you pressed your lips to his one more time and his hands went to the hem of your dress, playing with it between his fingers as you both stumbled into your apartment. You didn’t stop kissing, not even as he kicked the door shut, and Harry took the opportunity to let his hands wander down your body, pushing the fabric of your dress over your hips and spreading his fingers across your bum to dig them on your flesh, pressing you closer to him. He could imagine the red marks of his fingers on your skin, he had dreamed of it a couple of times before, picturing you laying on his lap, with your ass sticking up and your legs rubbing together every time he spanked you. He didn’t even know why, he wasn’t a spanker. But he could do just that if you were into it. 

What had been a slow kiss was turning hungrier and demanding, your rough breathing fanning over each other skin and your nose bumping clumsily as you made your way to your couch. It almost felt like you were high. The world was blurry and unimportant, and all that mattered was the lemony taste of his lips. 

Harry sat on the couch, and you looked down at him as you stood between his strong legs, your heart racing so fast, you could hear it drumming in your ears. He helped you take off your dress, revealing your red lace panties and your black bra, which made him smile and look at you with eyes filled with lust. It was a good thing you were running out of clothes, and that you had to resort to your sexy underwear. 

“Do you wear this to hang around your house? I might visit more,” he teased. 

His hands were on the back of your thighs, and he pulled you close to him until you got no more option but to climb on the couch and sit on his lap and feel the effect of your makeout session on his growing bulge.

“Just to make myself clear,” you said. “This is not happening ever again.”

Harry didn’t care, just once was enough to satisfy his curiosity. 

As you kissed him again, you understood just how freeing a slow kiss can be. It gave you a chance to explore and remember the taste, the fire, the sweetness out of your mouths. If it was going to be a one-time-only thing, you might as well enjoy it. 

“Oh…” The little moan escaped your lips before you could even mold out a thought in your brain, and your mouth formed a perfect circle, hanging open as you looked down at Harry, who seemed fascinated, drinking up your reaction. You leaned back, to allow him to brush his fingertip down your slit, as his other hand was looped around your waist, helping you steady yourself up, as his thumb met your clit and he drew a lazy circle on it, the light pressure sending an electric current up to your spine. 

Sex was never like this.

You couldn’t stop looking at him, not as he pushed the fabric of your side to the side and started to draw smaller and tighter circles on your clit, and as he pressed soft kisses from your collarbones down to the valley of your breast, making you take a deep breath as you took your bra off. It was the only thing you could control because everything else had been taken over by Harry. He was making sure you could feel him all over your body, raising goosebumps on your skin and making you arch your back as he trapped your nipple between his lips and continued to massage your clit in fast and steady circles, only slowing down when he felt you throb for him. He didn’t want you to cum, not yet, no, he wanted to feel you lose control around his cock. 

“Fuck,” Harry moaned and a triumphant smile tugged up the corner of your lips. He couldn’t be the only one to have fun, not when the pressure of his hard cock against your ass was driving you crazy with curiosity. So, you rocked your hips on him, tightening the grip of his legs around him so he could feel you better. Every time you pushed your hips forward, your center would meet the tip of his fingers, making your walls burn for him.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” Your words were urgent and breathless because by now, a fiery need had settled in the pit of your stomach, burning down every bit of common sense that it could find. All there was left was the feeling of Harry’s fingers thrusting in your pussy, as you both ground your bodies against the other, and Harry tasted the creamy skin of your chest. 

“I was thinking about taking it easy,” he said and your eyes snapped open in surprise, looking at him as he offered you a lazy grin. But it didn’t last much more than a couple of seconds, because Harry’s thumb found its way back to your clit, toying with it as his fingers slowly pumped inside of you. He was right, you had to bite your bottom lip to not let out a loud moan at the feeling. “I know you need a good fuck.”

He was right, good fucks are very recommended for your overall health. Make you happier as well. 

“Please,” you begged, cause you could feel yourself starting to drip down your legs and all over his fingers, to ache for something more. You wanted to see him completely naked as you rode him. You wanted to hear his low grunts in your ear. You wanted to fuck him and regret it later, cause it was a fucking bad idea. 

With his arm around you, Harry easily lifted you from his lap and you gasped, giggling in surprise as he lowered you down on the couch. He was fast and rough when he pushed your panties up your raised legs and threw them to the floor next to you. His eyes were on you, looking at you as you spread your legs open, and you let your fingertips brush down your tummy and make your way between your legs until you reached your center, warm and wet for him, and already sensitive. 

You rubbed your fingers faster on your clit as he took his shirt off, and revealed the taut muscles on his chest, and the myriad of tattoos that covered his wonderful body. Then came his pants and his underwear and you couldn’t tear your eyes off of him, watching in fascination as his hard cock sprung to his belly, thick and large in all of his glory. His tip was pink and swollen, and your mouth watered just looking at it. You craved the nice stretch of your walls and the way it would hit you in all the right places. 

“Don’t stop,” Harry commanded as he saw you pulling your hand away, and you gulped, letting him look as you continued to touch yourself as he looked at you. There was a knot in your tummy, a fire that was pulsing and demanding, added by the fact that Harry was there, brushing his fingers down your thighs just as your walls clenched.  

Slowly, Harry laid down on the couch and settled between your legs, and you arched your back one more at the cool feeling of the air he was blowing against your warm center. 

“You like this?” Harry asked, even when you both knew the answer to his question. So, you didn’t even try replying, you just moaned, enjoying the feeling of his tongue sweeping and tasting up and down your slit. His fingers wrapped around your wrist and he pulled your hand away before the tip of his tongue drew a circle around your clit and lapped on it to suck it between his lips.

The feeling of one of his fingers pushing into you almost drew you over the edge, and Harry pumped it slowly, releasing your clit only to flick his tongue over it. His fingertip massaged your walls, just in the right spot to make your whole body tingle, and your tummy quiver at the touch.

Sex was nothing like this. No, it wasn’t. 

Your tummy quivered just as your legs started shaking. "Reality" was nothing more than a foreign word, and so were "control" and "restrain", because you whimpered and cried, and moaned Harry’s name as you got closer to your high. Your walls clenched around his fingers and Harry smiled in satisfaction. His name sounded fucking good coming out of your lips. 

“C’mere.”

Harry stopped, just seconds before a wave of bliss took over every thought of yours, and you almost grunted in annoyance. You felt robbed. 

But that feeling didn’t last long. 

You could feel him in your tummy. Fuck, you could feel him everywhere. You sat on his cock and he pushed his hips into yours, thrusting his cock into you easily, you were soaked. 

“Fuck,” you both moaned. Yours was more of a cry, while you adjusted around his thick, veiny cock. His was forceful and his grip around your waist became tighter, and his forehead pressed to your shoulder, just as you started to move your hips, sliding your wet pussy up and down his cock. 

“You’re so big,” you whispered desperately. Your nails dug on his shoulders and you leaned back to allow Harry to suck and bite on your nipples, while you rode him. 

Harry wasn’t soft or slow. You two were looking for your releases, and with his hands on your ass, Harry got to dictate your pace, and how fast you bounced on his cock. He was delirious, but so were you, and you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and leaned down to kiss him fully on his mouth, as he continued to fill you with his throbbing cock.

“You like my cock? Like getting yourself off on it?” Harry whispered to your ear and you moaned, riding faster as you felt his finger brushing over your tight little hole. “You have a vibrator, babe?”

“No,” you said, licking your lips as you looked at him. His eyes were almost black and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead while red splotches turned his cheeks pink. “Why?”

“So I can fuck your ass with it while you ride my cock.”

“I’ve never done that,” you admitted. Now it was all you were going to think about.

“Too bad it’s just one time, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

It wasn’t much longer before you were reaching your high, and colorful spots covered your eyes. You slacked over Harry’s body and kissed him lazily and sloppily as he fucked you. When he came, you felt warm inside, his juices dripping down your legs while Harry slumped back on the couch, with his lips slightly parted and his eyes closed as he tried to recover his breath. 

You were pretty fucking sure you had imagined the whole thing. Sex was definitely nothing like that. 

****

“Wanna come in?” Harry asked you, still standing by his door and looking at you as leaned back against the door. 

“No, thank you, I would rather sleep on the floor.”

“Whatever you want, babe,” Harry shrugged and began to close the door to go back to his apartment. Was he actually going to leave you to leave out in the middle of a blackout on a cold night?

“Harry!!” You called for him and the door slammed open, revealing him and his shit-eating grin. 

“What? I’m respecting your wishes!” 

“You’re a fucking idiot.”

You have never been into his apartment before, but you called this an extenuating situation. Electricity might come back in a couple of minutes, or it might take hours, it had never happened before so you didn’t know what to expect. But it was impressively and surprisingly clean and tiny and it smelled like coffee. You could make out a guitar leaning against a window, and the shadow of a large couch against one of the walls. 

Flashes of that night kept flooding your mind, which you found incredibly inconvenient and rude of your brain. But as Harry stood by your side, your skin covered in goosebumps and you found yourself taking a step back and away from him. Just in case. 

“You ok, babe?” He asked and you nodded in response, trailing behind him so you wouldn’t against anything in the darkness of the room. “I’ll take the couch, you can take the bed. There’s clothes in my room, so you can change into anything you want.”

His room smelled just like him, and it was certainly a shame that couldn’t snoop around, or even see the colors he had chosen for his bedsheets. You changed out of your clothes as soon as you could, and put on a shirt that you hoped was clean before you went under the sheets. 

There was just one problem: No matter how much you tried, you couldn’t keep yourself warm enough to fall asleep. Your teeth clattered and your feet were so cold you could barely feel the rest of your body. It didn’t make you feel any less ridiculous, though, as you made your way to the living room, where Harry was playing with his phone while laying on the couch. 

“Harry?” You called for him and he slowly turned around to look at you, the light coming from the screen of his phone allowing you to see his face. “It’s too cold.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” He smiled, and you wanted to swat the phone out of his hand just to spite him 

“Well, I was thinking you should give me your blankets, but I guess that’s too much to ask.”

“It is.”

“So, maybe, we can just...sleep together…like, share the bed.”

“Well, if you wanted to sleep with me again, you just have to say it.”

****

Read Part 2 here!

Hi! If you got this far, I just wanted to say thank you! You make me very happy! Any type of feedback, would be greatly appreciated, but if you don’t feel like it, it’s ok, I get it! Have a nice, lovely day!!!

[shurisneakers]

shut in [5]

Summary: When your high profile mission goes terribly wrong, you’re forced to hide in a safehouse with a man you’ve never met before. With seemingly nowhere else to go, you’re forced to work together to figure out who is trying to have you assassinated before it’s too late. (Sam Wilson x Reader, Hitman AU)

Warnings: cursing, threats, implied ptsd, violence

Word count: 2.9k

A/N: sam wilson nation how are we feeling after that trailer. only about a month to go for my two dumbasses to get the recognition they deserve!!

i also appreciate feedback so if you would like to, please consider dropping me an ask or comment ly guys!! also if you want to be on the taglist, it’s mentioned at the bottom of the chapter.

here’s my ko-fi if you’d like to support my writing <333

Previous Part || Shut In Masterlist

“Where are they?”

“We don’t know, boss.”

Their eyes glossed over with rising anger, masking its earlier aloofness.

“I’m going to need more than ‘I don’t know’.” Their voice was acidic, dripping with faux politeness. A bad sign.

“Police say they pulled off the highway at one point and then they lost track of them because there were no cameras.” The agent looked at his partner who only nodded in confirmation.

“They could have ditched the car before going on foot,” the partner suggested rather unhelpfully,  “We have no idea where they could be”

They were silent, mouth pressed in a hard line, leaving everyone in silence.

“Have I told you about the time my dad hired someone to fix the sink here?” they finally asked, looking away from the agents. “Some drunk fuck got in a fistfight and absolutely decimated the thing. Dad got someone to fix the hole in the wall and the fitting.”

They turned away, facing the wall.

“He did an alright job, that guy. Fixed up the place, installed a new sink. But there was a problem that he said he’d be able to fix only the next day, something about water dripping through an unsealed pipe.”

The agents just sat there on their chairs, feet cold. They knew where the story was going. It was a myth at their organisation, a cautionary tale to everyone who joined.

“My dad, he agreed. Said ‘Yeah sure, come back tomorrow’. Guy packed up his bag and was on his way out when my dad called him back. Asked him to hold out his hand for the money and then he just,” they paused, “cut one of his fingers clean off. Told him that he’d get his payment and his finger when the job was done.”

“I loved my father,” They skipped a beat before whipping their head around to look at the two agents. “But he was a coward. I would have shot him in the head.”

The agents looked paler than what they were a few seconds ago.

“If I tell you to do something, either do it perfectly or don’t do it all because the next time you’re here and those two are still alive,” they sneered, lunging forward to grab one of their collars, “I’ll blow your fucking brains out. Do we have an understanding?”

“Yes boss,” the partner was barely audible, speaking for the one who was breathing heavily, looking like he was on the verge of passing out.

“Go on then.” They smiled, letting go of the agent’s collar as he stayed frozen in his place. They dusted their hands off before straightening up. “Don’t return without good news.”

The frustration of not knowing something was not one you were used to.

You were used to knowing. The satisfaction of a puzzle. The ease of a predictable pattern.

So when this mystery wasn’t getting solved within twenty minutes, it was starting to affect you. You spent hours staring at the ceiling, replaying every detail for months leading up to the case. Every client you shook hands with. Every coworker you greeted with a nod. Every vile sicko you had killed.

And yet, no matter how much you thought and rethought and rethought again, it simply didn’t make sense. There was a piece missing. A hidden variable.

Sam helped wherever he could. He offered up arguments and rebuttals. If you had a theory, he’d find the flaw or the lack of proof. He was keeping it reasonable. Only snorted when you suggested that maybe the president was involved in a large scale extermination of underground mafias. A absurd theory that had no roots in reality.

“You could point out any official on the damn senate and they would have some connection to our gang that you can dig up with one Red Bull and twenty minutes on the internet,” he had said. “It’s too much of a liability if we get caught. They’ll just get exposed for all the nasty shit they’ve been hiding under the carpet.”

You knew this, of course, and it didn’t help to be reminded of it again because it also meant that one more theory was ruled out. And with each theory ruled out, the further away you were from your answer.

It was frustrating.

Sam was in front of the TV, lounging on the couch with the copy of Pride and Prejudice in his hands. You were working on plausible solutions, drawing up flow charts to see what could be connected.

If Pierce wasn’t the common link then it had to be something else. You couldn’t proceed with the other spies theory because no one else immediately sprung to mind. There was one... but you decided against writing it.

If Ransone was telling the truth, and there was no way of knowing he was, Sam and you were unrelated and his being there was coincidental. You just had to rely on the employee-employer relationship you shared, if you could even call it that.

“Fuck,” you cursed loudly, tearing up the piece of paper and crumpling it. You groaned, holding your head in your hands. Your eyes were burning from straining it for too long and your shoulders were in pain from slumping over the table all day. 

You took a deep breath, shaking your head before instinctively reaching for another sheet. Your hand came up short so you fumbled around the table blindly, trying to grab at a piece of paper without spending the extra effort of searching.

“You’re not getting another sheet,” Sam’s voice came from above you. “You’re going to watch some shitty movie, eat some soup and relax for today.”

“Give it back, Wilson,” you muttered, reaching out your hand.

“No. You can use your unhealthy coping mechanism when I’m not around to see it. Half of this is my mess too and I’m not going to watch you have a breakdown over it.”

He was going to be annoyingly persistent; somehow he had exhibited that magnificently over the last few days. You knew better than to argue with him over something that he had made his mind up about by now.

“I don’t want to watch a movie.” You let your head fall onto the table, wishing that the cool wood would do something for the headache you felt coming.

You heard him set the paper back down, not saying a word. Your head was throbbing and all you wanted was the frustration to ease. It was killing you.

“Come on. We’re going outside.” That piqued your interest. Sam had never invited you anywhere before.

“Where?”

“Y’know; the outside. I know you haven’t seen it in a while but see if these words jog your memory. Sun. Grass. Win-”

“I know what the outdoors is, Wilson.” You smiled against the table, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing it. “I’m asking where exactly we’re going.”

“You’ll see. Put some shoes on.”

By the time you looked up he was already walking away from the table, leaving you to follow.

You sighed. He sounded too determined and you didn’t have many other options.

Pushing your chair away from the table, you went to go put on your shoes. __

“If in care you were planning to, I’m just going to tell you right now that you can’t kill me.”

The both of you had been wandering along the path for a while. When you met him by the backdoor, he had a bag with him filled with who knows what.

He declined to tell you what was in it either, despite you asking thrice.

“Calm down, Keanu Reeves. That’s not what I was going to do.” Sam gave a short laugh.

“I’m serious. I know karate.”

“So do I.”

“Krav Maga.”

He hummed in agreement. 

“Kickboxing.”

“Now you’re just insulting me. That’s level one.”

The path was littered with tree roots that stuck out of the soil, stray branches and leaves that crunched satisfactorily under your feet. One second of distraction and you were sure you’d fall flat to the ground. 

You both continued for a few more minutes before he finally came to a stop.

It didn't look very different from the rest of the woods until something caught your eye. In front of you, one of the trees stood out. The bark had large concentric circles, resembling a large dart board. A few indentations were already made in it; clearly it was being used for practice regularly.

“Here you go,” he spoke from beside you, handing you a tomahawk. “Go ahead, throw it at it.”

You looked at the tiny axe in his hand.

“Think of it as adult darts,” he encouraged, “Here, I’ll throw the first one.”

He extended his arm in front of him, pulling his wrist back before effortlessly throwing it at his makeshift board. It was two circles away from the bullseye he had carved out. It must have taken a while to make.

“This doesn’t look very safe,” you commented as he picked up another one, launching it at the tree. You followed its trajectory, watching it embed itself into the bark closer to the centre than the previous turn.

“That’s what makes it fun.” This man had no regard for safety protocols. Given, these were things that came with the job but it didn’t mean you did it in your free time. “It helps, just try.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked curiously, trying to assess his reaction. Pulling you out of the house for a bar game wasn’t exactly the type of thing people generally did for you.

“Because I wanted to.” He shrugged, not giving you any further explanation. “Try one.”

“Okay.” You followed his example, watching as it glided smoothly before landing close to his initial throw.

“Nice shot.”

A smile made its way to your face automatically as he handed you another one. You repeated your action, an unusual sense of pride establishing itself in you when it came closer to the middle.

“Now what?”

“Now we collect and do the whole thing again till you feel better,” Sam replied, making his way towards the tree and plucking the small axes out easily. His back muscles tightened against the material of his shirt in the process. It wasn’t a bad sight at all. “Endorphins and all that.

“Is this where you keep disappearing to?” you inquired, taking two of them from him when he returned.

“Sometimes.” He took aim before throwing it at the board. “There’s a few things you can do around here.”

“Your coping mechanism is extreme sports without proper guidelines.”

“You gotta do what you gotta do.” Sam took a step to the side, giving you space to take your turn.

“Have you always been this wise, or?” you teased, concentrating on the circles in front of you. Your shot came pretty close. 

When you didn’t receive a reply, you glanced at him through your peripheral vision. He wasn’t moving, a thousand yard stare in his eyes.

“Hit it.”

“I can’t.” His fists were bleeding through the bandages wound around them. He could feel the tear in his skin, the burn of flesh against sweat soaked clothes.

“I said, hit it,” Emil commanded once more. Sam could feel his chest rising and falling steadily from beside him, his putrid breath making him want to vomit.

“I can’t.” He could barely stand up. Exhaustion seeped through every muscle in his body.

“You’re weak,” his trainer spat. “Nothing but a fucking child.”

“He’ll die.” Sam looks down at the boy, bloody and mangled on the floor. He had passed out ages ago but that did nothing to stop them from forcing Sam to continue relentlessly.

“It doesn’t deserve mercy. You hear that Wilson?” He leered right into his ear. “Do you fucking hear that?”

Sam flinched, nodding his head. The saltiness of his sweat was fresh on his tongue, burning where it dripped onto his busted lip from his forehead.

“So fucking finish it.” He knew that if he didn’t listen this time, there would be consequences. He didn’t want to find out what it was because he had no doubt it would pain a hell of a lot more than bruised knuckles.

“No,” he whispered, eyes wandering over the body on the floor. “I won’t.”

“What’d you say?” Emil straightened up, taking a step towards him.

“I said no.” Sam turned around on his heel. He could barely stand straight but the spite running through his veins was driving him, giving him enough energy to not collapse right there on the spot.

“He said no,” his trainer repeated, leaning away from Sam. “He said no.”

He turned to look at Ransone. Sam had forgotten he was there in the darkness of the room, observing the fight for the past two hours.

“He said no.” He started chuckling. His chuckles soon gave way to hideous laughter. Stomach clutching, tear inducing laughter.

Before Sam could even realise the change in attitude, Emil’s entire demeanour shifted. He stepped forward, forcefully gripping Sam’s neck. He shoved him backward until his back was pressed against the wall, no doubt bruising his spine further than what it was.

“Say that again, you fucking idiot,” he growled. But Sam couldn’t say anything. He could barely breathe. He was terrified, but determined not to let it show on his face. “When I say something, you better fucking listen.”

His trainer observed his expression for a few more seconds. Sam didn’t open his mouth.

His trainer finally loosened his grip, letting go of his neck.

Sam’s knees nearly buckled but he kept his balance, coughs racking through his body. He felt lightheaded, swollen eyes watching Emil walk towards the body on the floor. The only friend he had.

“Maybe this oughta teach you a lesson.” Emil flashed a quick smirk at Sam before raising his fist above Riley’s face.

Within a split second a guttural cry escaped his throat as he launched himself at the much larger trainer, taking him by surprise. The pure rage he was feeling had him seeing only red, the adrenaline steering his body on autopilot.  

With their position suddenly switched, Sam found himself on top of Emil, bloody fists beating down on his face without a break. The pain didn’t even matter anymore.

“Fuck you,” he screamed, not giving him even a second to defend himself. “Fuck you, you fucking dickhead.”

When he could feel his trainer raising his arm to grab from behind, he took a pause from pummelling his face to grab his arm, twisting sharply it till he heard a crack. The roar escaping Emil’s throat didn’t dissuade him from finishing what he started, returning to landing a punch wherever he could.

He didn’t even know how long had passed before his body was being pulled away, kicking and cursing.

“You see how good it feels Wilson? You feel that relief?” Ransone held him tightly as he squirmed furiously trying to get back to beating the shit out of that asshole on the ground. “Next time you’re angry, remember that’s the only way to feel good. If you’re in pain, you cause pain.”

Sam’s flailing was reducing as the adrenaline wore off. The exhaustion was beginning to take hold of his body as he looked at the onslaught of blood splatter everywhere, two bodies side by side on the ground. He did this to both of them.

“Violence is your only friend. Don’t you ever forget that.”

Ransone let go of him. His feet gave out beneath him, chest rising and falling heavily. His shoulders ached as he dragged his body towards Riley, praying to every force in the universe that he wasn’t dead.

He was still breathing. Sam nearly cried out of relief, collapsing next to him. Ready to defend him if Emil woke up.

“Next time you want to let out some anger, come find me,” Ransone called out. “I’ll find you your next victim.”

“You okay?” You waved your hand in front of his face. “Earth to Wilson.”

It seemed to work as he snapped back, blinking rapidly.

“You zoned out a little there. Everything alright?” you asked. He looked at you blankly for a second before realising what you asked.

“Yeah.” He gave you a half smile. “Yeah, I’m good. You done with your turn?”

The light that was there behind his eyes a few minutes ago had dimmed considerably. He looked weary. You recognised what had happened, what he was probably thinking of. You didn’t bring it up, not risking the chance of him reliving it.

“Kinda.” You pointed towards the target where a tomahawk was sticking out of the centre.

“Damn,” he whistled, resting his hands on his waist. “Best of three?”

“Didn’t know it was a competition.” You went to collect it. It was harder to pull out than you thought. You wondered how many times Sam had practiced it to make it look so effortless.

“Only if you want it to be.”

“Nah.” You walked towards him, handing two of them back to him. “Maybe next time.”

“Next time, huh.” He tested his throw before letting go of the handle. Bullseye. “I’m going to hold you to that.”

You only smiled.

Next part

[sakiyo]

━ # ONE A.M EYELINER | suna rintaro

+ pairings: suna rintaro/reader

+ tags: best friends 2 lovers, suna being a pretty mf, mutual pining, uni!au.

+ warnings: none

+ word count: 2.2k

+ summary: suna rintaro has never let you do his eyeliner, simply because he’s afraid to let you get too close.

+ listening to: FLESH by miguel & A Warm Touch of Light by Isabella LeVan

+ note: nothing but me rambling on about how pretty suna’s eyes are and how they’re pretty enough to deserve a whole fic dedicated to them. dedicated to my dom @kiyoomae​ i hope you enjoy babe because i finished this shitty fic for you <3.

“i could get hypothermia if i go out there, you know.”

working with suna always ended up the same way, there was no doubt about it. by the time that the clock plastered on your wall hit twelve-forty five a.m, the project was finished, but completely half assed as a result of neither of you paying enough attention during lectures to actually know what to do. yet, somehow, the same desultory assignment would always receive an undeserving ‘A-plus’. mostly because your professor never cared to actually observe the material, as long as it was in, it was good enough for him. [but you would grade it a solid 64 percent]

there's one variable that’s different today; it’s raining. it’s one a.m and it’s raining, and suna decided that it would be a sublime idea to walk to your apartment today, of all days. [as much as you encourage him to do so, he still never checks the weather]. the disruption in your routine was anything but an easy adjustment. and as much as you wanted to kick him out, the rain was growing heavier and heavier and—

“okay fine! you can crash for the night!” 

he smiled, unaware of the fact that you would have said yes to him either way.

+++

you can’t help but notice that suna has pretty eyes.

honestly, you picked up on his bizarrely unique vulpine-like eyes years ago, when you had first met him. but now, as you sit on the couch that occupies the majority of your compact living room, you’re drawn back to them.

its an odd thought to think about your best friend at one in the morning. 

but...he’s admittedly pretty.

you think back to a random fact you learned in the biology course you took in your third year of highschool; you grow into your eyes. never in your life did you believe that such a miniscule piece of information would find its way back into your mind two years later, and because of suna no less.

it’s one a.m and your legs are situated in his lap, his fingers deftly toying with the tip of the anklet he bought you for your sixteenth birthday [he doesn’t believe that you still wear it, even after all the passed time], 

but you’re still fixated on his eyes.

if it was even possible, the creases accented them further, like each line was strategically placed to lure one’s undivided attention to them. it’s funny though, because suna was never fond of attention. [which was also why seven year old rin never took a liking to overly-exertive you.

you still share a laugh with him thinking back to your rock hard resolve as a child and his burning desire to stay away from you. 

it’s funny how easily time changes things.]

you almost feel like you’re dreaming as you watch his eyelids ghost over, his glassy skin reflecting the coral tint of the cheap ceiling light. but you’re not dreaming, he’s right there, in all his ignorant glory. suna doesn’t notice your residual gaze, he’s fixated on the ‘NBA playoffs highlights’ video streaming on his instagram feed. yet you feel creepy, overanalyzing him like this.

but you allow your mind to wander, just a bit.

“hey, rintaro?” you lightly dig your heel into his thigh. 

it’s merely a sporadic case of wishful thinking. you’ve known suna rintaro for many years, which was more than enough time to figure out his complex personality.

and if there’s one thing he never allowed you to do, it was his eyeliner.

six times. 

you had asked to apply the liquid to his eyes six times, and each time you had received the same answer. a simple no. he doesn’t say ‘no’ with malice, though. no...the last thing he would want is you thinking that he just hated you enough to constantly reject your proposals.

suna hums quietly, shifting to meet your gaze. “yeah?” 

he still thinks you haven’t caught on, but you picked up on his tendency to immediately drop his phone in a reflex to hearing your voice a while back— you like it.

“do you think,” you shift your legs from the comfort of his lap and move your body closer to him, “i could do your eyeliner?”

your question doesn’t register.

instead, suna’s hyper fixated on the inching proximity between you two— he doesn’t like it. it’s one a.m and you’re moving one couch cushion closer, your knee is brushing against his thigh, has your skin always been this cold? he can barely focus, but he still hears the droplets of rain assaulting the window and roofs, they’re getting louder and louder and—

“suna? did you hear me?” your voice is accompanied with slight confusion. 

you narrow your eyes as he blinks out of his trance. you’re not shocked though— his tendencies to space out were never limited to lectures alone. “wha?”

your shoulder rests against his, and he swears he feels his heart cease its rhythmic palpitations for a fraction of a second.

[no you idiot, that’s just your regular heartbeat.]

there’s apprehension in your voice, “can i...do your eyeliner…?” suna is a relatively simple man, the worst he can say is no, but you want a yes this time around. 

“i’ve already said—” 

suna’s breath hitches, as if his words are lodged at the back of his throat. your fingers grip onto the peak of his broad shoulders. [you’d rather die than admit it, but you always loved when he’d roll them back and inconspicuously stretch his neck]

suna stares at you squarely in the face. he can feel the outline of your fingernails lightly tacking into his skin. shit, he’s dreaming. his eyes shift around the room, it’s still one a.m, and he can’t get any words out of his mouth.

speak, speak, SPEAK—

you beat him to it.

“before you say no!” your voice rises as you try to appeal. “i’m letting you crash at my place for the night, i deserve a payment.” your words come out as more of a jumbled mess than a proper sentence. subconsciously, you take your bottom lip between your thumb and index fingers, biting it every now and then. suna lifts a brow at your familiar mannerisms— he likes to think he knows you better than anyone else, and he knows that you toy with your bottom lip before taking a test, receiving a report card, or going in for a job interview.

are you nervous?

he sighs.

“fine…” he whispers softly. suna doesn’t exactly know if he should regret agreeing to your question, but he doesn’t miss the way your eyes visibly light up when he does.

you look pretty. 

+++

he regrets it.

it’s one a.m and you’re situated on his lap, straddling him innocently as you dab the brush into the bottle of ebony ink. suna can’t help but feel like a putty in your hands, the same ones that gently grip his jaw to hold it in place. 

he’s still not sure how old he was when your touches started to feel like fire.

suna feels trapped, he IS trapped. between your legs, between your soft body and the tender cushion, between the thin line of friendship and-

he should stop.

[he still can’t believe he’s doing this]

“would you like thin, or thick eyeliner, rin?”

has his name always rolled off your tongue so effortlessly?

“thin, like yours.”

you hum with content, looking him over with a small smile etched onto your face. he doesn’t understand how you can keep eye contact with him so easily, especially while you’re moving closer and closer to his chest. 

he holds his breath as you exhale. he can still smell the lingering scent of peppermint from the gum you were chewing minutes before– usually he can’t stand it, but right now it feels like home. suna knows his eyes shouldn’t be trailing down to your cherry balm stained lips, and he knows that his chest shouldn’t swell at the sight of you wearing his old bleach stained t-shirt that stretched past your shorts.

suna knows that he’s not supposed to see his best friend in that light; so why is it all that he can think about?

“close your eyes for me please?”

he really doesn’t want to, afraid that if he opens them back up again, you’ll be gone and he’ll be in his bed [he still believes that he’s dreaming]. but he knows that he’d rather dance with the devil [the twins] than say no to you, so he complies.

you hum a light tune to yourself as you bring the fine-tipped brush to the edge of his eye. as the pen glides across his skin, suna can’t help but flinch at the intrusive feeling. instinctively, his hand darts up to hold your wrist, stopping you from drawing any further.

“that feels weird.” he can’t see, but he can feel the smile tugging at your lips.

“you’ll get used to it in a bit, rin.”

it’s weird, best friends don’t usually sit in each other’s lap with less than five inches of breathing room between each other. what if he were to do this with one of the twins–

that’s a disturbing thought. he immediately forgets about it. he shifts in discomfort mid-stroke, making your hand slip.

you groan in frustration; it’s at times like this that you can’t stand suna.

“stop moving! you made it smudge!” you lightly smack his chest [though, it’s just a pitiful excuse to touch him].

“sorry, sorry.” your giggles die down as you clean up the line, and suna quickly goes back to overthinking. 

tik

the rain is still pouring.

tok

he counts that you breathe twice every ten seconds.

tik

you’re getting closer to his chest. 

tok

he can still smell the leftover pizza on the coffee table from today’s takeout.

tik

the gel feels kind of nice now.

tok

its one a.m and suna’s falling in love with–

“earth to suna?” you huff as you lightly tap his shoulder, “don’t tell me that you’ve fallen asleep on me.” it’s quite funny to him when you say that; you’re actually what keeps him up at night.

you lean back as he opens his eyes, looking at the eyeliner from afar. you can’t help but get a bit jealous– even without trying, suna had always managed to look perfect. 

you’re so caught up that you don’t notice yourself starting to slip.

“watch out.” his hand slips around your waist, pulling you flush against him. 

it’s one a.m and your hands are back on his shoulders. you know that your eyes shouldn’t be on his slightly chapped lips, and you know that you shouldn’t want to throw the hoodie adorning his body somewhere across the room. 

inhale

his hands are still around your waist.

exhale 

you watch as his tongue ghosts over his lips to wet them.

inhale 

you can smell the residual scent of the same cinnamon cologne you got him for a ‘secret santa’ event between your friend group.

exhale 

sometimes, you forget that you’re just friends.

inhale

has suna always been this attractive?

exhale 

the tipped over bottle of eyeliner is spilling onto your clothes.

inhale 

how would his lips feel against–

“wanna kiss you.” the hesitation in suna’s voice is clear. he knows better than anyone that best friends shouldn’t want to kiss each other. his heart is racing. when your eyes widen in surprise he wants nothing more than to push you off of him and leave without saying goodbye– but he’s already said it. 

“w-what?” you stutter out. you can’t help but wonder if you’re dreaming. you want to pinch yourself, but if it is a dream, the last thing you’d want is to wake up.

“i want to kiss you. will you let me?” he says, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. 

little does he know that you want more; to touch him, taste him, love him–

you take the easy way out instead, “yeah...alright.”

he moves a stray strand of hair away from your face, is he doing this right? You move in closer, eyes slowly fluttering shut, but suna’s gaze still lingers on you. he thinks you look even more beautiful than before [he didn’t think it was possible]. It’s one a.m and he’s about to kiss the person of his dreams. 

shit. he should close his eyes.

the journey seems like forever, but you both finally feel each other.

no, his lips don’t ghost over yours.

they press together, full of pent up passion. it’s hot, too hot for even best friends. 

can you even call each other that anymore?

not with the way his hands claw at the tip of your shirt in a futile attempt of pulling you closer to him, not with the way you gather tufts of his hair in your hands, and certainly not at the way you both feel at home like this. you both can taste every last inch of each other. 

he swears that he hates peppermint, but he’s drunk on the taste of it on your tongue. 

you’re meant to be nothing more than childhood best friends, but you want more and more and MORE.

this shouldn’t be happening, but he wants more and more and MORE–

you both break for air after an eternity, pulling away with heat-flushed faces, heaving chests, and swollen lips. he rests his forehead against yours, peppering ghost-kisses between breaths that tickle your skin. 

“i’m not supposed to love you, but i do.”

it’s two a.m, and two best friends are melting into each other. 

they’re unaware that the rain has stopped. 

[welcometoclass1ahell]

Fake Redemption Dabi x Fem! Reader

Another depressive read from a depressive writer. Boom ta da Dabi x Reader who clearly needs help. Please No minors, even if this isn’t sexual it’s still meant fo adults.

Word Count: 2088

But TW!: Abuse, drugs, cocaine, abuse and more abuse, depressive triggering shit

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

She knew.

It was a terrible idea. She however accepted that idea. It didn't matter if it was the worst idea either. She wanted this.

The cold air whipped into her face as if someone just threw a glass of water filled with reality onto her. Why was she going? Why did she think she deserved it? That last thought caused a strained laugh to spill from her almost blue lips. 

Thankfully nobody would see her laughing at her own self at this time at night, standing next to the bus stop. She wasn’t even waiting for a bus, it was just another distraction for her. Taking her time was only delaying what was coming.

Ring! Ring! Ring!

Pulling her phone from her pocket, she looked at the name calling her, her lips curling into a sneer. “Impatient to get this over with huh?” mumbling to herself, she silenced the call and continued on the dark road towards the only place she knew would get her what she wanted. No. What she needed.

Walking there was the part she hated the most. It gave her time to rethink, to go over her thoughts repeatedly until she hated herself more for it. 

Finally getting there felt like a redemption, a false one, but a redemption indeed. Looking at her goal, the rusted iron door to an old worn down factory that screamed ‘Stay away!’ only enticed her closer. Raising her hand she knocked three times slowly and waited as she heard the heavy footsteps on the other side.

The door creaked open to reveal what she had been waiting for, a man who would have caused children to cry and mothers to scream at one glance of his jet black inked face and arms. “You could have answered my call, doll” The man who referred to himself as Dabi drawled out his eyes narrowing down on her.

“Could have, but didn’t,” She responded tiredly yet a tone of anxiety seeped through her voice. Shrugging, Dabi side stepped letting the woman enter before slamming the door shut and locking it to make sure no one would be interrupting tonight. “You got everything?” She asked as she walked over to a small wooden crate, one of the few only items left in this abandoned building. Sitting down she turned her eyes to Dabi who nodded with a smirk and walked over pulling out a baggie with white substance coating the insides.

“I got everything, all yours doll. I also made sure no one will be around till morning. Are you sure you want to do this again?” He asked, his godly blue eyes staring into her own eyes made them both pause. Now normally, he couldn’t give a rat's ass who he made dealings with but this frequent customer of his had his curiosity. She wanted something nobody has asked of him ever. Not willingly anyway.

“Yes. I doubled the payment as well, I need this to last a while,” She stated matter of factly before shrugging off her coat. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t help but peer down at her arms covered in bruises. He hated to admit it but the swirls of yellow, blue, green, purple, and even black were beautiful to him. Maybe he was biased, since he was the one who had put them there.

“You know I don't usually ask about anybody’s business, but I’d like to know. Why do this to yourself?” He couldn’t help but ask as he watched her smile up at him like a lunatic. He knew better though, she was only faking the smile.

“Wouldn’t you like to know Mr. Dabi?” She responded keeping her edge of mystery and teasing as he threw her the bag of snow which she caught with two hands. Opening the bag she eyed the substance and once satisfied she pulled out her phone and her debit card. Cutting lines silently, she didn’t bother to acknowledge her supplier, still staring at her with amusement. “It’s just not everyday a pretty woman comes knocking and asks for some supplies as well for her dealer to absolutely beat the shit out of her to go along with it. I prefer beating the people who owe me money, not pay me money,” 

“Funny isn't?” She retorted back as she rolled a dollar bill from her wallet into a fine tube before lowering her face but not before she looked up at Dabi through her eyelashes, “However I don’t go around asking anybody to beat me up you know? You just happen to be a very handsome man who knows how to hit the spot just right,” Her laughter filled the cold room for a moment as Dabi couldn’t help but chuckle a bit himself. “You intrigue me, dollface,” Was the only response she got before she put the dollar tube up to her nose, expertly inhaling the lines she had set up.

“I’ll give it a moment to kick in and we can start, yeah?” Dabi only nodded before kicking another crate close to the one she was sitting on and sat across from her,” How about after we finish up here, you and me go for a drink? My place?” He offered to which the woman sat still as she looked at him in disbelief. “We’ve met up numerous times, fucked once or twice, smoked or did lines once and twice, but every time I always had to beat you till I wasn’t sure if you were breathing or not. But me asking you out to drink is shocking?” Dabi teased after getting no response with a smile before he received a nod.

“Fine, I suppose that's alright,” She agreed and both her and Dabi sat in silence for a few moments before she started to feel the rush come to her veins. Energy began to flow through her as she stood up and walked to the middle of the spacious factory room signaling Dabi to follow to which he did. Turning around to say she was ready was only met with a harsh punch to her cheek which had her huff out in surprise. No noise spilled from her lips as her head cracked to the side. Kicks, punches, spit, and anything else Dabi could do to her, she felt for the past hour. It felt painful of course, but so freeing. It was just what she needed. She longed for some type of touch, something to pull her from the edge of slipping through the cracks of insanity and this…..oh yes this was her redemption. 

Everyone always left her, friend or lover. Parents or teachers. She was always given up on or abandoned. She couldn’t figure it out. Years of being neglected as a child to now being seen as nothing but a waste of ‘potential’, whatever that meant, had her come to realize a false truth. She was the problem. Now deep down she knew it wasn’t that. She never did anything. She only had hateful parents, fake friends, teachers who just couldn’t care for their less paying jobs, and lovers who needed a quick fuck bring her down to this level. But she needed a reason otherwise it would hurt more. She decided she was the problem. She didn’t communicate enough. She was the one who didn’t try harder, who kept trying till something worked. It was all her fault and now to this day she seeked her false redemption.

She loved the sound and feeling of Dabi’s knuckles cracking against her face, the way his heavy boots collided with her ribs giving off a satisfying thump, or the way he spat on her with a loathsome look in his eyes. She loved it all because she knew at the end of the day he wouldn’t leave her. He wouldn’t neglect what she wanted, no what she needed. He was always there. That’s why she kept coming. The pain, the feeling of adrenaline, the focus of someone else on her was what she loved having.

She felt free, as if this was going to lift her out of her shithole of a life. The sad fact however is once it began it also ended. Lying on the cold cement ground, heaving deep breaths of air in her lungs as the drugs still pumped through her veins wasn’t enough. She wanted more. Pushing herself up with shaking arms, she tried to stand up to face more. The fresh bruises on her face screaming in the beautiful vibrant colors couldn’t be felt to her. No she could never feel the after effects for a while but she can feel the impact. It was powerful enough to get through the drug that way.

“M...More,” She breathed out looking up to the onyx haired man who simply had taken out a cigarette and started to smoke. “I think you’ve had enough for-”

“It’s never fucking enough! I need more! Please...im begging you,” She screamed out, her voice echoing through the facility as Dabi stared at her in shock. She never screamed at him before. In fact he’s never heard her raise her beautiful voice to anyone. She knew she looked pitiful, he could tell with the way her face started to scrunch up in shock from herself. Taking a deep drag of his smoke, he squatted down so the balls of his heels were firmly planted into the ground.

“Hey...look at me,” He gently muttered as he helped her sit up before his eyes bore into her own. “That's enough. Here, take a hit,” He offered to which she took, her pupils still large and round as she looked back at him, “Listen, after a while I kind of started to figure you out. You don’t need this to feel something you know. You don't deserve to do this to yourself,” He started to which she looked at him with wide eyes, tears starting to pool threatening to spill over.

“You don’t know that,” She simply stated in a hurt quiet tone. “No, I don’t. But you know what I do know? People who do deserve this don’t do this to themselves. They bring it out on others. I would know that at least,” Dabi responded lightly, “You come here every three days. Every three days you pay me to do this to you. Every three days you get yourself so fucked up and get me to beat the living shit out of you and for what?”

“It’s the only thing I have Dabi! I want to fucking feel something for christ sake! Don’t I pay you enough?”

“It’s not about the fucking money anymore!” Dabi roared back, causing both to be silent for a few seconds before he continued, “It’s about the fact that I’m starting to feel like shit doing this to you. Dealing you shitty drugs is one thing, but beating up a woman who’s so pathetically on the verge of not caring for her own life anymore is something else,” He spat more harshly than he meant to. Sighing, he reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear,” Doll, I don’t want to be the reason you want to end it. I want to be the reason you start something more. I hate to admit it but after a year of this shit I can’t help but start caring for the mystery woman who like to have her ass get kicked,” He laughed to which she couldn’t help but join in a little.

“Why?” Was the only response she gave to which he shrugged, “You’re cute for one thing, but from the times we fucked, drank, smoked, you show something more than this. I want to see more of it. If you really want to feel something then let me show you another way,” He offered, holding his hand out. 

Staring at him then his hand she took it with a small sigh,”I...I don’t know but...I’ll try,” She agreed to which Dabi smirked, ”That’s all you gotta do. Try,” He said, happy to finally have her do something other than this. If only she knew that though his sweet words and handsome promises of something better was still a fall. This man wasn’t good, healthy either. A shady drug dealing and maybe even murderous bastard he was but still, to her right now he looked nothing but an angel. Oh but if she only saw in the shadows how broken and fallen his wings actually looked. 

[pixieungerstories]

Quarantine - 4

Nick had changed his tactics.  Now, instead of growling, howling and creepy laughter, he whispered.  It was like living in an ASMR app.  Somehow the lights were always dim and Nick was occasionally purring sweet nothings in my ear.

Someone came to inspect the wine.  They had questions I could not answer, I parroted back the approved line that Nick was the one selling and they would need to call or email him.

A week later, someone came and took away a box that Nick had packed and there was a hell of a lot of money in my bank account.

Which was just as well, I had my hours further reduced.

I lay in bed that night staring at the ceiling and listening to Nick whispering about how he was planning how to spend the wine money on the house.

I was dancing around asking if I could use some of it to cover my living expenses.   He wasn’t getting the hint.  I realized that was very nearly fair.  He had been very clear he was here for the house not for me.  It had been his wine.  Of course, I was the one who had the income from the wine sale to claim on my taxes.

“Nick?  Would you pay me to paint the place?”

That made him stop.

“And why would I do that?” he breathed against my cheek, making me shiver.

“I have no idea how long I will be without work and I’m afraid of running out of money,” I admitted.  “And of having strangers coming in, possibly bringing the infection with them.  We don’t know if people can get Covid twice.”

He didn’t reply.  In fact, there was no sign of him for the better part of a week.  That was a whole other level of creepy.  The house just felt empty.  There was no one to talk to and I hadn’t realized how often Nick would brush past me until that stopped.

I was soaking in the tub on Saturday night, wishing for a glass or wine or a beer.  There was still wine in the basement, but it was all the stuff Nick was saving for a special collector.  It had come as a surprise when the wine appraiser said that I had drunk a twelve hundred dollar bottle of wine out of my coffee cup the last time I had cracked one open.

No, the wine was wasted on me and deliveries from the liquor stores were booked for weeks if I wanted to schedule a delivery.

The lights flickered.

“Nick?” I asked.  There wasn’t any reply.  I pulled the plug with my toes and climbed out of the tub.  I had been avoiding the second floor of the house as much as I could but it was where the tub and shower were.  The lights flickered again.   There was a huge crash of thunder signaling the start of a summer storm, then the lights went out and the rain started.

“Shit.”  OK, I told myself, no need to panic.  It’s just a storm. I am just trapped in pitch blackness, in a storm, while naked and I have to not trip over my clothes and make it safely down steep and narrow steps by memory.  The thunder rolled again, a huge almost double crash that had to be really close.  My feet were wet and the tile was slippery.

“Nick?”  I tried.  “I could use a little help here.”  I bit back a scream as the bathroom door creaked open.  “Nick?”  I whispered.

I shrieked when something brushed my hand then tried to relax as I realized it was a towel.  I wrapped up and tried to feel ahead of me with my feet as I inched my way towards the door.

That familiar low voice growled in my ear, “it would be safer if I carried you down the stairs.”

I swallowed, then nodded.  I was scooped up and cradled.  There was no real sensation of movement until I was placed on my feet and he guided my hand to what turned out to be my bed.  Then he was gone.  The room was briefly lit by lightning and I swore for a moment I could see him standing in the doorway to the kitchen.  The thunder followed in an instant rattling the whole house.  I was glad I had gotten the roof fixed.  

Looking toward the front window, it looked like the street lights were out too.

I hate storms.  Objectively, I know that I don’t have to be afraid, but storms completely bypass the objective part of my brain and reach right into my fear response.  I sat on the bed, shaking with fear in a way that I hadn’t felt since Nick tried to lock me in the bedroom.

“Lift up your hand,” he whispered, near enough to make me jump.  “I can’t turn on your hedgehog night light but I can hand it to you.”

I tentatively held up my hand and he didn’t so much pass me the light as drop it into my hand.  I fumbled for a moment before finding the right place to press to make it light up.  It didn’t really help, but I slid back across the bed until I bumped into the wall and sat clutching it anyway.

“You are very afraid,” he observed calmly from somewhere to my left.

“I’m trapped in a haunted house, during a storm and I am only wearing a towel.  This is where the sound track plays the creepy music and the audience tenses up in anticipation of my imminent death.”

He didn’t say anything for a long moment, so that when he did speak, I made an undignified squeak and jumped.

“You can’t see me bring you clothes.”

“What?”

“I can’t bring you your clothes unless you turn off the light.”

“Why?”

“Because you can’t see me.”

I thought about arguing about whether it was that I physically couldn’t see him or if he just didn’t want to be seen.  Still, I had trusted him to carry me down the stairs.

I turned off the light and fought not to hyperventilate.  My robe was placed in my lap a moment later.  That raised more questions.  If I turned on the light to get dressed did that make it easier or harder for him to see me.  Was the dinky little nightlight really going to keep him away in the storm?

I turned it back on and looked wildly around the room as it cast strange shadows.

“I used to like that,” he murmured.  “The taste of fear.  Its smell.  All the little noise that humans make when they are afraid and trying to be quiet.”  He paused and there was a moment of uncomfortable lack of talking filled with the sound of howling wind and driving rain.  “I have never lived with one of you this long before.  Your fear is different.  You become afraid at times when I am unable to see the threat.”

“Like now,” I mumbled, as I scrambled into my clothes.

“No.  This fear I can understand.  Primal fear is very familiar to me.  It’s my bread and butter, so to speak.  You are afraid of when I am here and when I don’t answer and you are afraid of your job.”

I stopped for a moment and tried to understand that last one. “I am afraid for my job,” I countered.  “If I can’t work, I don’t earn money.  Without money, I can’t pay my bills.  If I fall behind in my payments, the bank repossesses the house and this is an even more shitty time to be homeless than usual.”

“Hmmm.”

I shivered and tried to pull the blankets around me.

“You can lay down,” he suggested.  “You would be warmer and more comfortable.”

“It would be easier if I could see you,” I muttered.

Nick snorted, “No it wouldn’t.”  The wall where his voice was coming from got darker, then a swirling shadow detached itself from the wall and drifted towards me.  It was vaguely humanoid but with soft wavering edges like ink dropped into water.  His eyes still shone in the darkness.  

“That’s a little scary,” I whispered “but I could get used to it.”  Then he grinned showing entirely too many teeth and I started to doubt my words.   The way he stalked towards me wasn’t entirely comforting either.  The bed dipped under his weight and I found myself pulled into his lap.  It was the first physical contact I had since he left.  It was weird to realize that he was the only other person to have touched me in months.  I tried to relax against him, he was warm and dry. 

I couldn’t hear a heartbeat.  It was weird.  “You could rub my back, if you want.  It was nice the last time you did that.”

Nick gave a low chuckle, then he began stroking me.  We sat like that in the storm until the wind died down and I drifted off to the sound of the rain.

[a-dorin]

stranger

pairing: the mandalorian x medic!reader 

word count: 2.69k

warnings: cursing, canon typical violence, blood, wounds, burns, references to killing/violence, the taste of blood, sewing a wound up, yearning, pining, an idiot who wears only a beskar helmet and takes on more than he can handle 99.99% of the time

a/n: hi i wrote this in like no time at all so i hope you guys like it. (also at like 2:05 in the morning) also, this takes place during season one, and diverts a little bit  away from canon because he doesn’t have all of his new beskar armor yet (oops) also, sorry if the ending line is shitty i have a hard time with it sometimes 

“i thought this was the last time you were going to pull shit like this on me karga,” you dig your index finger into his chest, your jaw clenched, lips curled in a sneer, “you always say it’s going to be the last time shit like this happens and guess what? it doesn’t ever fucking end does it? i help you one time and--”

the leader hangs his head, raising a hand in defeat, “i am well aware of how you feel about me and the way i do my business. however, this is someone i can’t turn away. and you’re the only person i trust to fix him.”

exhaling, your eyes squeeze shut, “who is it?”

“someone who has been working with me for quite some time,” greef pauses, taking a moment to gauge your reaction, “he’s a skilled bounty hunter, one of the best, actually. typically, he fixes himself right up, but his injuries are far too severe to just ‘sew up’ and go about his business. trust me, i had to do some convincing to even bring him to you.”

through the entryway, a draft rolls in, causing you to shrink into your clothes, “it’s a little too chilly to talk out here. come in, we can discuss my payment, and then i’ll make my decision.”

greef takes a step forward, clearing his throat, “i’ll pay you, and so will he. i am well aware of how you feel about giving my men medical attention. but you do know that i will pay you well for this, right?”

you nod slightly, rubbing your temple with your fingers, “how much are we talking here, karga?” 

“i would like for you to assess his injuries first,” he counters, “then we can talk about payment.”

“fine,” you mutter, crossing over to your table, “please, just bring him in. if he bleeds out on my table, it’s your fault karga!” 

“hopefully there will be none of that,” karga shakes his head, the words so low that you could barely hear him, “i’ll bring him in. let me know when you’re finished.”

swiftly, you gather up your supplies, your hands gathering as much as you could. from the sound of it, things weren’t looking good. reaching out, you pull your cart towards you, practically tossing the supplies on the metallic surface. cursing under your breath, you search for your gloves, eyes frantically searching your surroundings, yet they’re nowhere to be found. 

guess you’d have to get a little messy with this one. 

a long-winded groan startles you from your task at hand, and your heart sinks the moment karga brings him in. he’s donned head to toe in battle armor, the hues of the metal a variety of colors. the only distinguishable piece is a beskar helmet, light reflecting off its surface. 

not once did karga mention that you would be tending to a mandalorian. 

“how bad is it?” you inquire, your voice crisp and cool as you stride over to karga, helping him carry the mandalorian to your table. 

blood seeps through his clothes, soaking the garments with a horrid scarlet. in several spots, there is singed fabric, signifying that he took a few good shots. the mandalorian reeks of burnt flesh and the stench of a battle, your nose wrinkling and bile rising in your throat. 

this was far worse than karga described, and this was no time to start panicking. 

“just a few blaster shots,” the mandalorian cuts in, his voice distorted from a modulator, “nothing that i couldn’t fix myself.”

“ah, ah, ah,” karga interjects, “there’s more to it than that. i believe he has several lacerations, perhaps a few burns from blasters.”

“that beskar couldn’t stop everything huh?” you arch a brow, in an attempt to lighten the mood. 

the mandalorian doesn’t respond, anxiety bubbling up within you, “karga, try and keep him awake as long as you can. i have a few healing stems, along with some bacta shots, but depending on how deep the wounds are, i won’t be able to treat him unless we strip him of the armor.”

“i-i can’t take that off,” the mandalorian gurgles, “i-i, m-my cr-creed.”

“what creed?” you shoot karga a curious glance, guilt plastering his features. 

“he has a creed he follows,” karga inhales sharply, “it’s his way of life.”

your lips part, forming an o. you want to scold karga for not briefing you on all of the minor details, as he normally does with his men. however, there was no time for banter or bickering. 

you had to maintain your composure. 

“how much blood has he lost, you think?” 

“i can’t give you a definite answer on that,” karga takes a step back, allowing you to survey the mandalorian, “i would say a lot, but i’m not too sure. perhaps his garments stopped some of it, or the pressure of his armor.”

“that’s not enough pressure,” you murmur, plucking a pair of shears off your cart, “hey mando, can you hear me? are you still with us?” 

a feeble hand raises from the table, his voice breathy and far away, “i-i’m here. anything but the helmet, please.”

“of course,” your voice is soft and hushed, “the helmet is off limits.”

“now that i’ve got him in here,” karga gestures his head towards the nearly unconscious mandalorian, “he has something back at his ship that i need to tend to. will you need my assistance or can you handle it?” 

“i can handle it,” your voice falters, “go do what you need to do. it may be an hour or two before he’s feeling better.”

“you know how to find me if you need me,” karga’s words trail off as he exits your home, the doors sliding shut behind him. 

“all right mando,” you take his hand, squeezing it, “i’m going to start by removing your armor okay? let me know if you can’t feel anything. that’s when we have a problem.”

“i can feel everything,” he spits out, “fuck. it hurts. it all hurts.”

“you really took a beating huh?” carefully, you start by removing his boots, hastily yet with caution. 

who knew if he took a hit to the spine, paralyzing any point of his body. 

“hey,” you place his boots on the floor, “can you wriggle your toes for me mando?”

immediately, relief ripples through you as you watch his toes move, signaling that there was no nerve damage. next, you remove the plates of armor covering his shins and thighs, placing them directly by his boots. the armor was severely damaged, almost beyond repair, as it was littered with dents and holes. 

how many run-ins did this mandalorian have in his lifetime? how many of his days had he spent fighting? 

“do you have other clothing in your ship?” you press on, slicing the fabric with your shears, “karga mentioned you had a ship.”

“mmmhmmmm,” he hums, “name is the razor crest.”

“ahh,” soaking a rag with bacta spray, you wiped down his exposed legs, assessing his wounds as you did so, “that’s a wonderful name.”

the flesh was only burned, which could be healed almost instantly with the bacta spray. luckily, there wouldn’t be much scar tissue either, only a few minor scars here and there. yet, you wondered if there was an inch of the mandalorian’s body that wasn’t scarred. 

“d-don’t worry so much bout my legs,” he stammers, “it’s my shoulder that i’m worried about. i can feel the blood soaking through.”

“i’ll have to remove the rest of your armor and your tunic,” biting your lip, your hands wrap around his chest plate, desperate to find a way to get it off. 

“hey,” his voice sounds again, this time a lot clearer, “i can get it off. you don’t have to worry about being hasty about this. i’ll make sure you get your sum.”

“i-i just,” you stutter, the taste of blood hitting your tongue as he sits up, “karga sounded so worried and i want to do a good job because the way he talked, you were his best hunter and i just can’t--”

“you won’t fuck anything up,” a hand reaches out, finding yours, “this isn’t anything i haven’t encountered before. the thing is, you’re a trained medic. i’m not. i would probably make a mistake and make my injuries worse somehow. take. your. time.” 

for a moment, your eyes flutter closed, a weary sigh flowing from your lips. you can sense the mandalorian watching you carefully, studying your features through the tinted visor. 

“o-okay,” you whisper. 

the mandalorian sits up, shedding away the remaining pieces of his armor, “would you like for me to roll over?”

you nod, gnawing at your lower lip once more as you realize that this mandalorian, this stranger, was about to be nearly undressed, half-bleeding, half-conscious, on your table. and he was so patient with you. so much kinder than previous patients in the past. 

“wait,” your brow furrows, “your helmet would make it awkward for you to lay on your stomach. how about you move over a little, to the edge of the table?”

“of course.”

he straightens his back, scooting over to give you some space. clambering onto the table, you reach up to adjust your light. taking your rag, you wipe down his back and shoulders, muscles rippling under your touch. every so often, your fingertips graze his heated skin as you lose yourself in your work. 

you catch a quiet groan as you continue to work, your heart fluttering. 

the sound wasn’t drenched with pain, nor anywhere near the noise you first encountered when he was being brought in by karga. 

this was a sound of contentment, a sound of bliss. 

“how long has it been since you’ve felt someone’s touch?”

shame burns through you the moment the question tumbles from your lips, nearly consuming you whole as he tenses. maker, did you feel so guilty. he was a stranger to you. how could you just blatantly ask that? 

the answer arrives, short and sweet. 

“too long.”

leaning over, you press a piece of cloth on his shoulder, a lengthy laceration stretching from his clavicle to his left shoulder blade, “oh, i see.”

“do you usually get this close and personal with your patients?”

“depends,” you shrug, “hey, i’m about to sew you up. it may sting.”

plunging the needle in, you press yourself to his back as you start the suture, your breath fanning against his neck. the mandalorian stiffens as he catches a whiff of your scent, and how it was so heavenly as it wafted into his nostrils. 

his jaw clenches as he chokes back a hiss of pain, remaining as still as possible. 

“you’re being so good for me,” your voice floods his ear, the praise nearly causing him to crumble completely. 

within seconds, you’re all finished, sliding off the table, “i take it that karga is coming back with a change of clothes?”

“i hope so.”

gazing over at your table, you notice the healing stems, “i have some healing stems for your travels. they’ll probably help with that dull pain you’ll have in that area for a while. it won’t be an issue unless you somehow reopen that wound. if it was any closer to any major artery in your neck, you would’ve bled out.”

“i’ll take them.”

“well,” you hand them to him, “take them before you forget them. you seem like the forgetful type.”

a low chuckle erupts from the beskar, “i don’t think i could forget a night like--”

a knock on the doors interrupts the mandalorian’s sentence, cutting it short. as you make your way over, you hear a string of curses flowing from the table. more than likely his native tongue. pressing a button, the doors slide open, revealing greef karga and a strange, little creature, swathed by a bundle of clothing in his arms. 

“you were fast,” karga remarks, cradling the creature, “how is he?”

“he’s fine,” your focus is directed away from karga, honing in on the creature, “who is this?”

“this is what i had to retrieve from his ship. he’s a very precious child. extremely important to that mandalorian over there.”

the child coos, its eyes two vast pools of obsidian. he blinks, a tiny hand flailing out. you melt, lips curling into a broad smile, “hello, little one. are you looking for your father?”

“he is,” the mandalorian echoes from across the space. 

karga enters, keeping the child against his chest as he strides over, placing the bundle next to the mandalorian. from a distance, you watch fondly as the child teeters towards the bounty hunter, an incoherent blubber sounding as his guardian pats his head, reassuring him that they would no longer be separated. 

within minutes, the mandalorian was springing to his feet, with a fresh set of a clothes, the same armor strapped to his frame. the child is in his embrace now, clinging onto his thumb. karga hovers by his side, more than likely filling him in on the next mission. the next victim to hunt. 

“how should i pay you?” his voice, one you had grown familiar over the course of the hour, fills your ears. 

“oh,” you blink, “um, don’t worry about it. you have far more important things to--”

“no,” his tone is firm, “you deserve some sort of payment.”

“she lives here after all,” karga remarks, folding his arms across his chest, “i could pay her any time.”

“how about you head out so that we can discuss this a little more privately?” he turns to karga, the query almost more of a command than a question. 

“of course,” karga dips his head, shifting towards you, “i’ll see you around. hopefully this is the last time i spring a patient on you.”

“i’m sure it won’t be the last,” you roll your eyes playfully, “see you around, karga.”

“tell me, how much do i owe you? name anything in the galaxy and it’s yours.”

“you’re ridiculous,” you snort, “you don’t owe me anything. you could’ve died and you’re worried about paying me.”

“because you deserve it,” he takes a step forward, the space between the two of you dissipating, “from the sound of it, you let this happen quite frequently. you don’t get paid enough for it either.”

“how about you pay me a visit the next time you make a pitstop in nevarro,” your eyes fall to the floor, careful to not meet his gaze, “would that be enough?”

a gloved hand grasps your chin, tilting your head up. 

“oh cyar’ika, that would be more than enough.”

the child giggles, bouncing, “maybe you should get a move on. he seems hungry. there’s a cantina not too far away from here. they serve good food, even if the locals get a bit rowdy. i bet it’s nothing you run into, though.”

“it’s probably best if i leave nevarro.”

“be safe out there mando,” you whisper.

“i will.”

just like that, he’s out the door, leaving your knees weak, heart all aflutter. 

as the mandalorian made his way to the razor crest, child in tow, his mind was reeling, all of his thoughts honing in one particular thing. 

a medic on nevarro, who mentioned briefly that he seemed to the forgetful type. yeah, he traveled near and far, to all rims and edges of the galaxy, but he was one to forget people, nor faces. he encountered so many species: human, twi’leks, wookiees, chiss, you name it.

the moment he stepped foot on the razor crest, he yearned. the desire burning through him, aching and desperate. 

stars, how he longed to go back. just for one more glimpse. one more glimpse of that stranger’s face, that beautiful face. 

he was determined though, determined to find his way back. perhaps in a few days, even. the mandalorian was relentless, especially when it came to getting what he craved. and oh, how he craved to know the name of the stranger on nevarro. 

someone who would no longer be a stranger to the mandalorian. 

he just knew it.