#listen is this edit job good? no but it came to me as I was getting in bed so

[audible301]

Consider me a follower of the Ankarna Cassandra Ruvina Galicaea misunderstood lesbian pantheon

[thatsveryood]

I can simultaneously love the episode and also understand what they were trying to do with the lack of eddie in the episode and also not like how they made that writing/directing choice to not address the lack of eddie!!! all of these are possible at once I promise!!!

[atrwriting]

more, more, more — carmy x reader

carmen berzatto x coworker!reader

listen to me. this man? this man?? so fucking slutty. so fucking slutty i can’t even think straight. i am absolutely AGHAST at how little writing there is of this man online. absolutely OUTRAGEOUS. he looks like that and none of us have done his character justice?? DISGRACEFUL.

i wrote this in direct response to how angry i am at how little there is.

as always, warnings… SMUT!, alcohol consumption, alcohol consumption with sex, smoking, p in v penetration, work relationships, overstimulation, carmen berzatto being an absolute mind blowing fuck on a table i mean in bed

also, minors fuck RIGHT the fuck off

barely edited we die like men

i stole that joke don’t come for me

anyway....

you didn’t really know how it happened.

you were once an unemployed law student, scared of drowning in bills, and eagerly awaiting a call back from anyone that would hire you — when she called.

natalie berzatto.

her voice was warm and comforting on the phone, and very eager to have you come in. she was relaying important information to you on the phone, and while you grabbed bits and pieces, it was hard to focus on anything else besides the sheer excitement of finally having a job. the job would be stressful, sure — but at least you wouldn’t be broke and stressed.

unfortunately, your first couple of shifts were a mess and a half. you took instructions well, and performed well, but in the hospitality business — that means nothing when an oven burner is out, a dishwasher doesn’t show up for a shift, richie starts barking, or when carmen’s upset.

carmen.

fucking carmen.

while soft spoken, there was nothing that could compare to the look of approval in his eye when you had completed a task to his standard. most people would consider the job of a hostess useless, or not a job at all — something to laugh at, but carmen? no. that man took your job very seriously, as he knew what it meant to provide the full experience to the customer.

however, when something was lacking in the kitchen and that experience was interrupted… carmen took the look of approval, almost gratefulness, away and replaced it with something that everyone felt like they had to walk around shards of glass.

when he was angry? oh, fuck… that could ruin anyone’s night.

the worst of it happened when his sister unexpectedly went into labor. two weeks early.

carmen had left the place screaming, and, in the process, had also left his things at the restaurant, including his jacket, wallet, keys, the lot — so to be nice you went to drop it off at his place. worried that he might be at the hospital, you texted him.

you: hey, going out for a drink. saw you forgot your stuff at the restaurant so i grabbed it because you’re otw. you home?

carmen: oh shit thanks. i’m home

so there you stood. at his front door, his stuff in hand.

you quickly adjusted your long hair, worried about your appearance. it was weird to show up to carmen’s place in your regular attire — seeing as though your regular attire on a night with your friends was black flare jeans, a tight black long sleeve v-neck that showed off your cleavage — you were concerned that he might be concerned with who he exactly employed. however, his niece was just born… he had more important things to worry about.

so you knocked.

and barely waited.

carmen was barely at the door a few seconds later before you came face to face with the man who constantly let exhaustion ride on his back.

“you good?” you immediately asked, handing over his stuff.

he nodded. “yeah, uh — thanks.”

“you look like you could use a drink,” you laughed. “want to come with?”

he shook his head, the corners of his lips somewhat curving upwards. “nah. day was hectic. you want one? come in — for a drink?”

you smiled. “i don’t want to intrude, especially after the berzatto family excitement of the day.”

“i owe you,” he sighed. “but don’t let me hold you up if your friends are waiting.”

you smiled. “one drink won’t hurt.”

one drink definitely did not hurt.

drink two and three definitely didn’t, either.

how much carmen made you laugh definitely made your stomach hurt, though. in a good way.

“you’re killing me,” you cackled. “who knew quiet carmen berzatto was such a good host.”

“you can call me carmy, y’know,” he spoke, saying his cigarette before pouring you another drink. “everyone else does.”

you shrugged. “you’re pretty professional in the kitchen. didn’t want to impose.”

“i don’t think you could impose a day in your life,” he chuckled. “i think you’re the only one that knows boundaries in that fuckin’ place.”

“says the mysterious one,” you giggled. “the only reason any of us know your nicknames is because richie likes to share your baby stories.”

“speaking of babies…” he took a drag. “thank you for helping sugar out so much. she told me to tell you how much she appreciates it.”

you shrugged. “‘s nothing.”

“nothing?” he scoffed. “you keep her sane. definitely keep me sane.”

“always got your back, chef,” you giggled.

he smiled, and ashed his cigarette once more. his long, thick fingers stretched around the circumference of his glass. one fingertip tapped against the glass and a few droplets of condensation fell to his countertop.

you were twisted around in your seat to face carmen, eyeing his attractive hands. in your peripheral vision, you saw him lift his head to cock it towards you and stare at you. the longing look sent shivers up your spine, but you gazed at him through your long lashes as you waited for his response.

“you do,” he spoke. “always have. we were lucky to find you. i - i was, i mean.”

“more like i was lucky get a call from natalie,” you laughed. “it’s so hard to find a well paying job nowadays.”

“heard,” he rasped. “you happy at the bear?”

“very,” you replied. “staff keeping you happy, chef?”

he chuckled. “when i’m not made to scream, yeah.”

“that’s fair. we’re lucky to have you.”

there was only so many things you could think of to say to carmen before you began to consider that you were imposing. you slapped your hands against your thighs — a implicit signal it was time for you to go. he led you to the door, where he reached out for your coat. you smiled at him, thanked him for the drink, and slid your arms through the jacket as he held it out for you.

you don’t know what caused you to, maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was you — or maybe it was how good carmen smelled — but you glanced up and over your shoulder at the polite man behind you.

you didn’t have anything to say. frankly, you said something last — it was his turn. however, carmen’s sense of societal expectations started and ended with the door to the kitchen. but there, by his front door? basically holding you by the shoulders, and staring back down at you? he had nothing to say.

however… his eyes could share a thousand things about him. more specifically, emotions. carmen’s eyes showed exhaustion, a bit of dehydration, to keep it a buck, but there was so much intensity in those crystal irises. they were a stunning, clear blue… but with the way carmen was gazing down at you, there appeared to be no clear thought in his head.

and he did nothing.

so you could do nothing.

you found yourself disappointed at his actions, or rather — lack thereof.

you simply smiled, and went to turn away. you reached for his door knob, when you felt the slightest brush of calloused fingers against the skin of your wrist. the feeling shocked you, pricking at your nerves, but you didn’t stop until you felt those fingers enclose around the circumference of your wrist.

like they had with the glass, moments ago.

you turned back, letting your long and thick eyelashes ghost over your line of sight. all you could see was a frozen chef, standing tired, but staring back at you.

when his gaze fell to the floor, you stepped closer. he glanced up.

you felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you softly asked, “what’s up, carmy?”

“first time i had someone over.” his parted lips closed so he could swallow, and his eyes drifted between your lips and the floor. the words were right there, on his tongue. they were so close you could feel them, taste them. he replied, “i, um… don’t want it to end, uh — i guess.”

you smiled and turned around in place, barely inches from his face. his breaths were pushing past his lips in small, light puffs that hit the tip of your chin. it was like he was conscious of everything he was emitting; his vibe, where he was looking, even his fucking exhales. he was cautious and frozen and all you wanted was for him to be relaxed, or as close to, as he was moments ago.

“already drank you out of house and home, carmy. what else you got in mind?”

his eyes widened, but his voice stayed level. “what else i got in mind?”

you hummed in agreement with a coy smile on your face. you folded your lip between your teeth and stepped backwards. carmy glanced at your hips and feet hesitantly, shifting his weight slightly. while his eyes were trained on you, his parted lips quivered slightly which told you that there was still some nervousness lingering in him. with every step you took, carmy took one as well. you kept stepping backwards, and carmy kept stepping forwards, until your back was pressed against the wall.

carmy’s lips weren’t slightly quivering anymore. there was no hesitation in his figure when he leaned down slightly and rested a flat palm against the drywall above your head. his breath was hitting you on both cheeks — as if they weren’t hot enough already. inside you were screaming. you were screaming, and screaming, and screaming and all you wanted to do was grab both sides of his face and smash your lips to his. you wanted to, but you wouldn’t. you wanted to see if he would.

“you know,” you spoke, raising your back. your cold palm pressed against his cheek. it was burning — almost as bad as yours. “even though you’re the boss… never seen you actually taste anything.”

“no?” he rasped. the gruffness in his voice pricked at your cheeks and went straight to your core. “and what do you want me to taste, sweetheart?”

you released your grip from his cheek and brought your hand down to your face. with a manicured nail, you tapped the plumpness of your bottom lip. you stared into his eyes — a dare.

“fuck.”

with his free hand, carmen wrapped your hand in his own and pressed it to the middle of his chest. he held it there, pressed against his heart, and surprisingly it was the exact spot you wanted to hold him. you wanted to hear — no, feel his heart that was beating slightly faster than normal. when carmen finally pressed his chapped lips against yours… you saw stars.

the alcohol coursing through your veins made you melt into the man before you. his hand on the wall slid down until he was rubbing the side of your neck, and then gripping the base of your skull. his fingers, his beautiful, skillful fingers threaded through your hair like it was one of his pieces of art and he was creating something. he twisted your strands until he had your head bent back, practically supported by the heavy palm of his hand. the motion made you gasp into his mouth. carmen swallowed it whole. every. last. bit.

“y’taste so fuckin’ sweet,” he moaned against your lips.

you hummed with him. the warmth of his body engulfed your body into his until the moment started and ended with carmen anthony berzatto. you could taste the liquor on his tongue that danced with your own. with every breath he took, bits of smoke would linger between the two of you. it went straight to your head, swallowing your senses whole. you didn’t know if it was the alcohol, the cigarettes, or carmen himself, but you felt like you were swimming.

“this okay, sweetheart?” he asked, pulling away for a second. a thumb of his stroked the skin of your cheek as he stared at you, waiting for feelings of regret from you. “d-do you want me to stop?”

“please don’t stop, carmy,” you gasped, pulling him back into. “you’re perfect.”

you didn’t expect that would make carmen slide his hands down your body and grasp the back of your thighs. his fingertips pressed into your skin, pulling your legs up and around his waist. you squealed against his teeth and couldn’t believe you had found yourself in this situation.

it’s not that carmen wasn’t handsome, no. the man was drop dead gorgeous in a tortured artist way, and you always had a thing for men that looked like they needed a hug but wouldn’t admit it. but… he was your boss.

what could you do about that? it’s not like you could stop now. even if you had told him to stop, got your shit and left — the damage was done. you both had crossed the boundaries, and you were going to reap what you sewed.

in that case… might as well have a little fun with it.

he had placed you on a neighboring table. his large hands gripped the flesh of your thighs and you couldn’t help but whine into his embrace. his tongue glided over your lips and teeth and with your tongue in the messiest way possible and all you could chant in your head was more, more, more.

and that’s when you found yourself pulling at the bottom of his t-shirt.

he stepped back slightly, throwing his shirt over his head. his swollen lips were parted, and his eyes searched your face. you found your chest rising and falling with anticipation, and realized you should’ve been more concerned with how he was dealing with all of this.

“you okay, carmy?” you whispered.

he nodded, letting a few fingertips of his ghost over the skin of your cheek. his crystal eyes glanced down to your lips.

“we can stop, you know,” you whispered again. “it’s okay.”

he nodded again before dipping his head down to the side of your neck. his plump lips left wet kisses on the sensitive skin and you moaned into the open air. you widened the space between your knees, allowing for carmen to wedge himself between your thighs.

“you’re always talking such good care of me, sweetheart, so good to me,” he rasped against your throat, sucking on the skin. “but all i want to do right now is have my fingers inside you. y’gonna let me?”

“yes, carmy,” you whined. “yes please.”

“such a polite girl f’me.” carmy’s mouth was attacking your throat. moans escaped passed your lips like carmy was squeezing them from you, claiming them. his fingers traveled down the front of your clothes and stopped at the button of your jeans. sliding it open, carmen berzatto slipped his perfect hands into your jeans.

“right there, please,” you gasped once his fingers found your bundle of nerves.

his fingers dipped into your core and spread it all over where you needed him most. warmth began to spread through your hips and your knees widened for him. his drew circles different ways until he noticed that when he drew counterclockwise circles, you bit your lip and your eyes appeared to involuntarily flutter shut. you felt carmy smirk against the skin of your neck.

“what made you this wet, baby?” he hummed, sucking at the base of your throat.

“you, carmy,” you whined. “felt it as soon as i saw you when i first walked in. needed you so badly.”

he smirked again. “so bringing my things wasn’t of the purest intentions?”

heat rose to your cheeks with the sensual actions that were taking place below the belt and carmy’s accusation. you grew worried at what he would say if you said no, that you honestly just wanted to help him out… but if carmy wanted to play like that, you could play.

“n-no,” you whined as the pleasure began to spread throughout your whole body.

carmy was holding you so close to him. it was like he was your support — supporting you through such a physically vulnerable moment. your legs were practically shaking at this point, trying to take everything he was giving you and not start sobbing. you were grabbing at any piece of him you, wanting to kiss him — but he wouldn’t let you. fucking bastard.

“good,” he stated, staring you dead in the eyes. your mouth fell open at his response, a pant pushing passed your lips. “i don’t have the purest of intentions when i do this.”

carmen berzatto slid two long, thick fingers inside you ever so slowly. the motion pulled small moans out of you like you were a pathetic mess of a puddle and the sun rose and set with him. you felt his fingertips press against the upper wall inside you, while another finger worked at your clit, and all you could do was hold onto him tighter.

“it feels so good, carmy,” you whined. “i love your fingers so, so much.”

“yeah, baby?” he breathed against your ear. “you wanna cum f’me?”

“faster, please, i will,” you sobbed. you fucking sobbed as the tapping motion inside you hastened. “oh god — oh my fucking god —“

“that’s it, sweetheart? that’s what you needed?”

“yes, yes — fucking — fuck — yes.”

“f-fuck —“ he groaned broken, incoherent phrases against your throat. his breath was hot and heavy on your skin and all you could think about was how good he felt inside of you, and also how badly you wanted all of him inside you. interrupting your thoughts, he spoke, “show me how good it feels, baby. finish all over my fingers f’me.”

that broke you.

that fucking broke you.

it was like a shock of lightning hit you straight in your core and the power from the strike spread throughout your entire body. every muscle of yours went taut as you arched your chest into carmy’s.

with his expert hands, he fucked you through the orgasm. “that’s it, baby. that’s it. keep cumming for me.”

it was like carmen berzatto knew everything to say to make you shatter. you couldn’t even breathe — all you could do was give into the spreading feeling of bliss and hold your breath while it washed over you. it was wave, after wave, after wave of mind-numbing orgasm and carmen held you through all of it.

“pretty girl.”

“i know, baby. you’re such a sweet girl f’me.”

“that’s it, sweetheart. take it.”

once the waves finished hitting you, your chest was rising and falling heavily. carmen peppered light kisses along your neck, being gentle as to your state, but you were having none of it. you reached for his belt.

“greedy.”

you smiled lazily at him. “any objections, chef?”

he smirked at you, letting his fingers ghost over your sensitive core. a shiver ran up and down your spine at the almost painful action. “be careful — or i’ll make you cum again.”

you knew he wasn’t joking. you let out a slight giggle before you dragged the zipper and his boxers down. freeing his cock, you pumped his shaft.

carmy was once dominantly kissing your neck and whispering mean things in your ear, but now he was using the crook of your neck to support his forehead.

“you have such a pretty cock, carmy,” you whispered in his ear. there was something so comforting about being intimate with a man where you both could be vulnerable, and you weren’t sure if you would ever let it go. you want him everywhere he would let you have him. “i don’t know if i want it in my mouth or inside me more.”

he chuckled at that, crooning back into your embrace when you would touch a very sensitive part of him. “dirty girl — you’re so fuckin’ evil.”

you were worried the friction was becoming too much for him, but you didn’t want to raise your hand to your own lips, so you swiped some of the juices from your core and used it to lubricate the skin of carmy’s cock. it was a quick motion — you didn’t think he’d notice, and plus his eyes were most likely closed.

but when he spoke, you froze.

“do-do that again.” his voice was rough with lust. “do that again for me.”

you were hesitant at first, but you decided to make a show of it. you slowly dragged two fingers up the length of your slit and rubbed a very slow circle around the circumference of your clit. you gasped at the sensitivity, slightly jumping at the touch.

“fuck, that’s hot,” he groaned, breath humid on your neck.

you smirked at his response and reached for his cock. your hand slipped along the smooth skin of his cock, drawing a deep groan from carmen. the poor man was so sensitive — almost aching from what giving everything he had to you previously felt like.

“so big, carmy,” you breathed. “so big and pretty.”

“y’know what would be prettier?” he asked, pressing a kiss to your jaw line. “watching you put it inside you. can you do that, baby?

you smiled at him devilishly. carmy’s hands shoved the rest of your jeans down your legs and flung them somewhere in the room. your pussy was aching — dripping for the man before you. the sensitivity had left you, no longer prickling at your nerve endings. all that was left was the want for more — anything carmy had to give you.

“please,” you whined, rubbing the head of his cock against your glistening folds.

“i love when you beg f’me,” he groaned. “such a good fuckin’ girl.”

both of your lines of sight drifted down to the view of your hips. you both watched in awe as you lined carmy up with your entrance as he pushed his hips towards you.

the throws of passion and want for carmy were intense, sure — but so was the want to enjoy this while he could. he pushed in the tip of his cock, groaning slightly as your tight hole encased him. you whines at the barely filled feeling — so empty, needing more. carmy, however? carmy didn’t care. he wanted to feel every push and pull of your muscles between your hips.

carmy kept his eyes turned down at your pussy and you swallowed more and more of him inside you. he gripped the flesh of your waist, fingertips digging into you. your own hands were splayed our flat against the cool countertop of the table — a direct juxtaposition of the boiling feeling that electrified the top of every inch of your skin. you whined as carmy took his time with his thrusts, pulling back every so often when he felt resistance, and then pushing back in ever so slightly, yet slightly farther, each time.

“please, more,” you gasped, folding your lip between your teeth. “i want all of you.”

“baby isn’t patient, huh?” he asked, continuing with his motions. “gotta have it all, when you want it?”

“i can’t be teased right now,” you sobbed. it was pathetic how needy you were, but fucking christ did it turn carmy on.

“this what you want, baby?” he asked, pushing into you deeper.

your walls were squeezing him like he was the only thing that existed to you. the burn at your entrance was something so bittersweet, something so delicious — you didn’t know how you were going to keep control and make this special for him as well, let alone how you weren’t going to cum right then. but you didn’t care — you didn’t have the strength to care.

“yes, carmy — please,” you begged, bucking your hips into him weakly. “fuck — your cock feels so good.”

“yeah, baby?” he pressed into deeper. “so impatient you can’t handle it slow?”

“i want you to fuck me, carm,” you bit with lust dripping from every word. “fuck me — use me however you want — please.”

fuck.

that set him off.

carmy was a patient and low maintenance man, sure, out of necessity and convenience mostly. however, when he had the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, with a dirty mouth to match, talking back to him, and begging him to be selfish?

fuck patience. fuck ease. and fuck being selfless.

carmen’s grip tightened on your waist, and he pushed the last parts of his cock inside you.

it immediately hit you right where you needed him — that soft, sensitive spot so deep that barely anyone before him could dream of reaching. your walls gripped the smooth skin of his cock and you screamed. you fucking wailed when he finally pounded into you painfully, but so fucking sweetly.

“dirty — fucking — girl,” he grunted, thrusting upwards into your pussy.

there was nothing like the sight of carmy finally taking what he wanted. no expression of shame, or guilt, or hesitation on his face — just a man, slightly bent over before you, inside of you, holding you so close to him because, in that moment, you could give him what he wanted — needed. and, in that moment, all he needed was you.

the side of his face was pressed against yours, breathing heavily into your ear. the few groans he let escape his throat were guttural — almost animalistic. they went straight to your core, practically flooding around his cock. your whines of pleasure forced his hips forward and back faster and harder with each motion. balancing your weight and carmy’s with a firm hand of yours behind you on the table, you clamped your free hand on the back of his neck. you twisted a few stray strands of his hair around your fingers, tugging at them. every thrust caused you to pull his hair, him, closer and harder into you.

“laythefuckdown,” he spat, to your surprise.

the command startled you, sure — but it also made you bite your lip in anticipation. he pressed a wet, heavy kiss to your cheek, throwing butterflies in your lower stomach, as you released him. before you could lay down, he stopped you.

“you want to give me what i want, baby?” he whispered against your lips.

you nodded, gazing at him with dark, lust filled eyes.

“then i want your pussy to finish around my cock,” he stated. “think you can do that f’me?”

“y-yeah,” you replied, shakily, but full of trust.

you laid down and carmy regained his footing at the end of the table, keeping his cock pressed firmly inside you as he stood above you. his cock twitched against your most sensitive spot inside you, and you whined at the new angle. he gripped one of your hips firmly, but let his other hand ghost up your glistening lips.

“such a pretty fucking pussy,” he rasped, gazing at it. “takes my cock so well. but right here…”

he pressed his thumb against your clit.

you would’ve jumped if his hand wasn’t keeping you locked to the table.

“this is what i want,” he spat. “so fucking pretty.”

he began rubbing rough, fast circles on your clit. your legs were shaking from the overstimulation, and you thought you could cry from the sensation. your back arched off the table, and your hands struggled to find something to grip — to balance you as carmy tortured you.

but then his cock started working itself back into you again, hitting that spot that needed him so badly.

“think you can cum like this, baby?” he asked, taunting you. “be a good girl for me, yeah?”

“yes — !” you groaned, reaching for the end of the table with one hand. grabbing it, you tried to steady yourself, but it was no use. not with carmy. “fuck — it’s so much — it’s too much carmy —“

“gonna cum for me, sweetheart?”

you threw your head up to stare at the man. he was rocking into you like that was the only thing he knew, fucking you like it was the only thing he wanted, but there was so much focus on his eyes. so much focus on you.

“gonna give me what i want?”

“yes, yes,” you were nodding your head so pathetically, so sweetly for him. tears were practically threatening to spill over the corners of your eyes, but they glistened at him, and only him, and god did it fuck with him. “please, carmy — let me cum for you.”

“do it,” he ordered. “fuck, baby — cum for me.”

your hips were bucking against his pelvis and his hand, too erratic for him to be precise like he wanted to. you were chasing his fingertips, chasing the orgasm that even in his selfish state he was so generous to give. whines left your throat involuntarily as the intensity in your lower abdomen grew, and grew, and grew. your eyes were screwed shut as you pushed yourself to your elbows, holding yourself up as you couldn’t help but curl into yourself. carmen may have been looking at you, or something else — it didn’t matter. all you saw was the black of your eyelids, until is was white.

white. pure white.

your finger nails dug into the meat of your palms as the heat spread from your womb to the entirety of your body. every nerve ending and hair rose to the highest point of height they could, and you held your breath. the feeling of immense pleasured you washed over you — wave after wave, after wave, after wave. it hit you, it crashed into you, it fucking drowned you — it swallowed you whole until you were gasping for air. your orgasm was violent — practically mine splitting. you were shaking. you were sensitive beyond belief, beyond repair — and the prickling feeling wouldn’t stop. you were gasping for air as you looked down, only to find carmy’s hand still working between your thigh.

still rubbing those fucking circles.

“c-carmy,” you sputtered, tears wet in the corner of your eye. “please — i c-can’t.”

“shhh,” he whispered. “just keep cumming, baby. just keep cumming for me.”

your chest split open at that, throwing you back against the table top. shivers went up and down your spine as you took carmy’s torture.

“that’s it, baby. that’s it.”

his words were music to your ears as you screamed for him.

“ohh, fucking shit — that’s it —“ he hissed. “just like that. take it all for me — oh, fuck.”

you were dazed and confused on carmy’s table, basically seeing stars. absolutely useless, fucked out beyond words. you felt the weight and warmth of carmy’s body lean over, and rest against yours, as his hips sloppily rocked into you.

you wrapped your legs around the middle of carmy’s back, locking him in place. one hand went to clamp on the back of his head, and the other pressed against the side of his cheek.

against his lips, you whispered, “cum for me, carmy, please. i want to feel you inside of me.”

“good — fucking —“ he grunted, pressing his lips to yours in a farm, hard kiss as he shook. carmy’s tongue shoved itself into your mouth, and down your throat. carmy was everywhere — so deep in every part of you. you hummed with each moan of his you swallowed, rocking your hips against his and rocking him through his orgasm. gasps left his lips as he gripped any part of you he could, doing anything he could to hold onto you and keep you in place.

“holy f-fucking shit,” he gasped against your cheek, pressing kisses to your cheek and the length of your neck. “that — that was — it was so —“

“i know,” you spoke, giggling slightly.

carmy laid his head against your collarbone and you weaved his wet curls around your fingers. he rested fully against you, completely relaxed.

“fuck your friends,” he mumbled. “stay here tonight — as long as, um — you want to, that is.”

your giggle hummed in your chest. carmy’s confidence leaving him in the middle of the sentence surprised you slightly, but not enough to leave you unamused. “‘m not imposin’?”

he chuckled at that, and pulled you up from the table and into his arms. "fuck off."

-----

lmk what you think :) love yall -L

[roguerogerss]

The President

Pairing: Coriolanus Snow x Reader

W/C: 3.2k

Warnings: SMUT!!, Livia is also a warning.

(this is getting out of hand now. someone please for the love of GOD stop me from writing these. also the president thing got away from me in this one and i feel sick.) (EDIT: here’s part 2 babes, as requested!) (requests r open, send me stuff here)

-

“Well, Felix will obviously get it." You'd hardly been listening to the conversation at hand, but Lysistrata seemed to be making a point that you wouldn't want to miss, given her excessive gesturing whilst talking, "His father was the last President, and he was great, I'm sure they'll take that into consideration-"

"But Festus is smarter." Livia cut in, snippish as always, pointed nose turned up and drink poised, looking like a judging, middle-aged woman. "And he's got the grades to prove it. And he was thought of very highly within the University, you know."

"But what about Pup? Surely he'll make a better president than Festus, and I dare say Felix, aswell." Clemensia was next to make her point, "Eugh, thinking about Festus at school, how sloppy he was," She'd turned to you, now, "Do you remember that? How on earth could he make a good president?"

"But he's different now, Clemmie, such a great husband, and he'll be such a great President, when he gets the position later." Livia was always so disgustingly sure of herself, it made you want to tell her to shut up, and then, after the fact, lock yourself in your apartment for the next few hours and scream into a pillow. "What about you, Y/N? Who do you think will get it?"

You hadn't even bothered to listen to what the rest of the women thought the pros and cons of their respective husbands being President of Panem, were. Your ears had only really perked up upon hearing your name come from Livia's puckered little mouth. "Well, I think you're discounting Coriolanus."

This warranted an eruption of laughter from all of the women around you, Clemmie laughed so hard that she had to grip your arm for support, and Livia pointed her glass at the rest of your former classmates and laughed with them over your statement. "You can't be serious!" Livia shrieked. "I mean, I know he's your husband and all, sweetie, but he's a total rule breaker, they need someone reliable, trustworthy! Your Coriolanus isn't anything of the sort."

Your Coriolanus. It almost made your face crack into a smile, and you had to roll your tongue around in your mouth to keep from giggling like the schoolgirl you once were. You'd only been married to Coriolanus for three days, but you'd had to postpone your honeymoon so that he could go ahead with his running for President of Panem. It didn't feel quite real, yet, that you'd married your childhood sweetheart, and hearing Livia refer to him as your husband, as much as you hated her, made your head spin with happiness.

"He'd be more than capable, Livia. He's smart, incredibly smart, and that's been recognised, too. And he's seen more of Panem than anyone you'd consider to be a prime candidate. Dr Gaul loves him, surely her vote is better counted than most anyone else's." You countered. Normally, you wouldn't involve yourself with such arguments. Your high school friends had been married a lot longer than you had, settled at twenty as opposed to your wedding at twenty-three, and you'd always had the gruelling job of listening in on them competing with eachother.

Who's husband was best at this, who's was best at that? Who's father-in-law was richest, who's husband had bought them the bigger house after the wedding, who's husband fucked them the most and who's was best? You'd vowed to yourself that, when the time came, and you and Coryo finally married, you wouldn't bother telling anyone much of your personal life.

"I suppose you have a point." Clemensia was easily the nicest out of your friends, the only one you really enjoyed the company of, and she liked Coriolanus, too. While the others only seemed to slander him, what with his stint in the games and his time as a Peacekeeper, she only ever seemed to speak about him from a place of friendship. "Coriolanus is smart, and Dr Gaul adores him, remember when we mentored? He'd have won the Plinth prize, for sure, if everything else hadn't happened."

"But it did, though, Clemensia. It did happen, and I think his chances have been ruined, if I'm honest." Lysistrata made her first comment in a few minutes.

"They've definitely been ruined. I mean, half of the Capitol think he's a rebel." Livia scoffed.

"But the other half think he's brilliant. A young, complex mind. Someone who doesn't think like the rest of us do." You took a sip from your drink, and Livia scowled at you. She knew you were right, and, although Livia always had a counter argument, she seemed lost on this one. "I suppose we'll have to wait. Maybe the half of us who think he's great will outweigh the half who don't."

"I suppose we will, slim chance and all, but..." Livia shrugged and clicked her tongue. "We won't be waiting too long, look."

She gestured to the television, which had been playing commentary from Lucretius 'Lucky' Flickerman, and had now switched to all four men standing uniformly on a stage, crowds surrounding them. Lucky uttered something about how the last votes had now been cast, and so it was time to announce the President.

Livia gasped and grabbed your hand, then Lysistrata's, and Clemensia took hold of your other one, giving it a slight squeeze and sending a small smile your way. "This is it!" Livia announced dramatically.

"Hold tight, ladies! One of us is about to be First Lady of Panem." It was painfully obvious, when Livia said 'one of us', that she meant herself. You knew she wouldn't even think about being happy for any of the rest of you, should it be anyone other than Festus claiming the title.

"Here, we have our four presidential candidates." Lucky announced on the television, "All Academy and University graduates, we have, Festus Creed, Felix Ravinstill, Pliny Harrington, and, last but not least, Coriolanus Snow!"

You smiled softly when the camera panned over the boys on stage, your childhood friends, your husband, standing side by side, all up for the position of President. Coriolanus' suit was pressed to perfection by Tigris, and you'd done his hair for him that morning, he looked amazing - handsome, professional, presidential.

"Now, in this envelope, I have the name of the man, out of these four, who will become President of Panem." Lucky flashed a black and gold envelope, and then stalled for a few seconds, having a pigeon fly out of his sleeve, and making an out of place remark about magic.

"The time has come." The broadcast was incredibly dramatic, and you wished he'd just cut the unnecessary stuff and put you all out of your misery. "The new President of Panem, is..."

The silence of Lucky's pause was filled with Livia clamping a hand over her mouth and squealing, you wished even further that she would just be quiet.

"Coriolanus Snow!"

You'd hardly been expecting him to actually win, but Coryo had put so much of himself into his campaign, and you felt a huge sense of pride wash over you as the cameras closed in on him and his face lit up in one of his stunning, toothy grins. Your eyes widened in shock, and you heard Clemmie laugh excitedly.

"Congratulations!" She let go of your hand and threw her arms around you. "Coriolanus deserves this, really, he does, and so do you!"

You hadn't a clue what to say to anyone, whether to revel in your glory or to extend your sympathy that their husbands hadn't won, but, when you turned to see Livia's face, bright red and obviously stewing in anger, and Lysistrata's dropped in sheer disappointment, you almost laughed out loud.

"I suppose the part of the Capitol who love Coryo is bigger than the part who don't." You smiled sweetly at Livia. "I wish Festus better luck next time.”

-

The rest of the day dragged on, Livia had only been letting her anger fester and had hardly said a word since the announcement - you certainly weren't complaining - and the rest of the girls were simply flooding you with questions, congratulations, and stories from when they'd been growing up with Coriolanus, as though reminding you of the fact they'd been there since before he was President.

The reporters had become an issue, too. Coryo had warned you about them, kneeling in front of you after fastening the straps of your high heels that morning. "They'll try to bleed you dry, whether I win or not. Just try to ignore them, don't give them much. All they want is a story." And then, he'd kissed you and smoothed your hair down, soothing you on what he knew was already a nerve-wracking morning.

You tried to remember his words, solidified with that kiss, every time they approached you. Don't give them too much, but don't give them nothing, ignore them where you can, wait until you've been properly trained on how to give interviews. It began to dawn on you that your entire life might start to feel like this, now, and you made a mental note to tell Coryo all of your concerns later and let him silence them for you.

You didn't see your husband for almost an hour after the announcement, and most of the women you'd been with before the broadcast were badly drunk by the time he showed his face. It was in the middle of a particularly slurred story, about something that Clemmie absolutely should not have been telling every female University graduate that she knew, that you'd felt the large, familiar hand snake it's way around your waist.

You turned to find Coryo standing there, beaming down at you. "Hello, First Lady." He mused. You smiled so widely at him, and quickly pulled his face down to connect your lips in an almost too suggestive kiss, earning whoops from the crowd of girls you'd gone to school with.

"Sorry, ladies, I'm going to borrow my wife for a while, if you don't mind." Coryo smiled to everyone, and then accepted side-hugs and kisses on the cheek and congratulations from everybody around you.

Afterwards, he quickly pressed his hands to either side of your waist and started to guide you through the crowd of people, avoiding reporters where he could and, where he couldn't, telling them he'd give them a proper interview later, but had somewhere to be at that moment. Most everyone you passed would clap him on the shoulder or shriek something that sounded congratulatory.

Eventually, you reached an empty hall, with large hardwood doors and, inside, marble pillars and polished stone floors. You looked around, amazed, you'd never been to this particular building before, but every room you'd gone into so far was a marvel in itself.

"I don't have long, shouldn't even be away from everything going on at all, but I couldn't resist seeing you any longer." Coryo admitted, face flushed as though this was a first date. You smiled gratefully at him.

"Thought I was going to die if I had to speak to anyone else from the Academy. I mean, how annoying is everyone we went to school with?" Coryo chuckled, approaching you and enveloping you in his arms. His suit smelled of roses, like always, and it calmed you so deeply that you wanted to stay that way forever, inhaling his scent and forgetting about every other responsibility you had.

"I'm sorry I left you with them for so long. Especially Livia, even Festus isn't as mad as she is." Coryo held you at an arms length and smoothed your hair affectionately. You leaned into his hand.

"She's certainly been a pleasure." You joked.

Coriolanus laughed and then, quickly, his lips were on yours, catching you off guard and making you smile against him. "Wanted to come and see you because I couldn't stop thinking about you." He explained, lips becoming rougher on yours by the second.

You knew exactly what he meant, as his hand squeezed your waist and he backed you into one of the pillars. "That car ride here, you're such a tease, and all for me, hmm?"

"All for you." You agreed, breathlessly.

"Such a bad girl, though. Getting me all riled up like that and not doing anything about it. Making me flustered, I was struggling to talk to people, just thinking about fucking you." His fingers ran from your cheek, down your neck and to your collarbone, which was exposed and red hot with arousal, "And you're so flushed, honey, makes me wonder if, maybe, you did this on purpose. Maybe you wanted me to think about it all day, wanted me to be pining for you, didn't you?"

You were quiet, just revelling in the way his rough fingers felt against your skin. Coryo’s voice hardened slightly, and the sense of authority had you sucking your bottom lip between your teeth. “Answer me, sweetheart."

"I wanted you to think of me, Coryo." You reached out and brushed a stray curl from his forehead. “I love knowing you're thinking about me."

"Oh, baby, I'm always thinking about you." His eyes raked over your body and you suddenly felt naked under his gaze. “But I think, after your little stint earlier, getting me so hard in the car and then having me walk through a crowd like that where you knew people would see, you need to be punished."

"Mm," You hummed. "And what would my punishment be, President Snow."

Coryo practically growled upon hearing you call him that, the power of it all, and he gripped you roughly by the back of the neck and slammed his lips onto yours, a clash of teeth and tongue, so rough, so hot. "I wasn't going to do this, but, I have to take care of this," He pointed to his clothed, but very obvious erection. "So, be a good girl and bend over that railing for me, will you?"

"What?" Your voice was blunt and your eyes wide. Never had Coryo asked you to do anything of the sort. You were all for commands in the bedroom, in the kitchen, even in the car, but he'd never been so public about it. "Coryo, there are so many people out there. Someone could walk in."

"I don't care, sugar, I'm the President now, remember?" His fingers had curled around your chin, tilting it upwards for you to look at him. “Don't you think it's my right to be able to fuck my wife wherever I please?"

You felt a wetness pooling between your legs at the sound of him calling you his wife, and at how horny he so obviously was, and so, slowly, seductively, you bent over the marble railing, overlooking a staircase and, below, another polished room. You pulled the skirt of your red, silk dress up past your thighs and over the curve of your ass, painfully slowly, never breaking eye contact with Coriolanus, who's mouth was hanging open and you could see his tongue gliding over his top teeth.

"That's it." He coed, positioning himself behind you and pushing your dress up even further, so that your waist and most of your back was on display now, too. He ran his hands over your exposed skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. "That's my girl. If you're good, you'll get your reward later, yeah?"

"And what would my reward be?"

"I'll make you cum so many times you'll be seeing stars, darling, I promise." He bent over you, kissing your neck, “But, for now, let me fuck you, and keep yourself quiet. Can you do that?"

You didn't honestly think you could, you never managed to, even when you pressed a hand to your mouth, bit down on his shoulder or your wrist, your neighbours were still more than able to hear your whimpers and moans. But you nodded, anyway, too excited by his proposal for later on. "Good." He gently moved your hair off of your back and pressed a kiss to the back of your neck. "Good girl."

He'd only unzipped his slacks and pushed your skimpy underwear to the side, but that was all he needed, and you were so wet that it made it easy for him to slide straight into you, both of your moans echoing around the hall as he did so.

The sounds of his skin slapping against yours, and your moans, muffled by the palm of your hand, were so ludicrous, here in this huge, pure white room, that it made the experience a hundred times hotter, in your opinion. "You'll be a good girl for me now, won't you? After I've filled you up, you'll be my perfect girl, hmm?"

"Yes, Coryo!" A loud moan left your lips, which only lead Coriolanus to smack your ass once, something that he only did to warn you if you were getting too loud. "I'll be good, I promise."

He was bent fully over you, chest pressed against your back, cheek to your shoulder blade, and his lips being right at your ear had you getting close, every thrust of his hips, every whisper of your name or breathy moan, the way his hands continued to roam your body. "Coryo, I'm getting close." You whispered.

"Hold it. Didn't say you could cum, did I?" You began to protest, but he cut you off before you could even make your point, "You've been a bad girl, and you need to take your punishment seriously. Do you understand?"

You went quiet, the idea of him fucking you, getting you so close only to pull you back, had you lost for words. His hand found your neck, and he squeezed his fingers around it gently, making you cry out in pleasure, "I said, do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes, Coryo, I understand." You whined, "You feel too good."

"Gonna cum." He warned, and only a few seconds later, his hips stuttered against you and he stifled an especially guttural groan against your shoulder as you felt warm ropes of cum filling you up.

His whole body shuddered, and he pressed his face as far into your back as it could go, breathing heavily. When he pulled out of you, leaving you bent over the railing, throbbing and clenching around nothing, a few drops of cum dropped down your leg, and he felt his cock twitching just at the sight.

"It's taking everything in me not to make you cum right here, trust me, sweetheart." Coryo tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear when you finally managed to stand up - albeit wobbly - and then immediately began fussing over his own hair. "But you need to wait, you understand that, don't you? Need to prove to me you can be good."

"I will, Coryo." You helped him out with his hair, smoothing it gently. "Promise."

"Good girl." He helped you to pull your dress down and fix your underwear, and then pressed a kiss to your forehead. "I'll have to go back out there. Try not to murder Livia for me, okay?"

Coryo opened the door, so that you could both go and rejoin your respective parties, but your legs were shaking so badly you found yourself hardly able to stand, nevermind walk. Coriolanus smirked at this, watching you smugly.

He fixed out his suit jacket, and then leaned in for one last kiss. "I'll see you soon, okay?"

"See you soon, President Snow."

[cozage]

hello! Im kinda new to tumblr so i dont really know if im supposed to send requests here so sorry if im supposed to send it somewhere else, but for my request can it be fem! Reader x sanji? Hurt to comfort where he says something mean but then apologizes? And can you pull out the angsty bit a little, but make the ending fluffy? And for the format can it be like a mini fic? If you want you can add other characters but i mainly want sanji! Thats all! Sorry if my request didnt make sense as im new to tumblr😔. Thank youu!

A/N: Hi! You did everything perfectly!! Thank you for the request <3 it was so hard to make Sanji mean even accidentally 😭 I hope this is good! It’s also not edited so please forgive any grammatical errors!  Characters: fem reader x Sanji Cw: Sanji is an idiot and says mean things (and is a little sexist) Total word count: 900

Rude Comments

“I can do it, Sanji.” Your words came out quick and short. Your temper was rising, both at your task at hand and the blonde who was hovering behind you. He didn’t normally come with you on jobs for Franky, but he had been free today.

“It’ll be faster if I do it,” Sanji offered. He reached out for the wrench. 

“I can do it!” you snapped again. You pulled away from the task and glared at him. “Franky asked me to do this, so let me do it!”

“Well, it’s just…” Sanji eyed your clenched fist around the wrench and took a step back. “It’s not really a woman’s job to do this sort of thing, and-”

“What the hell do you mean by that?” you bellowed. “You think I’m not capable of doing this?”

Sanji threw his hands up in a plea. “No my love! It’s not that at all! It’s just…you’re not very good at this.”

It felt as though you had swallowed a stone. “Franky always asks me to do this.”

“And you’re being very helpful!” Sanji said quickly. “But he gives it to you because it’s not exactly a top priority task and…well, it’s really hard to mess up.” 

Sanji gave a weary look back to your workplace as if your handiwork spoke for itself. His pitied gaze and words made you suddenly want to be alone. 

“Fine,” you mumbled, dropping the wrench to the ground. “Fix it for me, then.��

“Of course, darling!” Sanji jumped at the wrench. You were fairly sure he was already starting to explain how he turned the bolt, but you walked out the door without listening further. 

You didn’t see Sanji for a while. That was fine with you, though. You retreated to the back of the ship and perched atop a barrel, staring out at the sea to think. Did Franky always give you useless tasks just to keep you busy? You frequently had to return to the same tasks again and again. What if Franky broke things just to have you fix them? 

The thought brought tears to your eyes. You had been so sure Franky enjoyed your company and valued your help. He had called you “super indispensable” more times than you could count. Was it all just a lie?

“Darling?” 

Sanji’s voice broke through your mental spiral and you quickly wiped the tears from your cheeks. 

“Yeah?” Your voice came out wobbly, but there was no point in hiding from Sanji. 

You turned to face him. You had been ready for him to fuss over you, but you found that he was covered in sweat and grease and plenty of other weird stains and smears. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge your puffy eyes at first. He looked too exhausted. 

“So, this is the part where I apologize,” he said softly. 

He strode over to you in three steps and swept your hair out of your face. His hands were covered in grime, and you could feel the oily substance stick to your face. The feeling made you jerk away from him, but he was already pulling out a clean cloth and wiping it away. 

“I’m sorry I said those things, my love. I know you are very capable of doing anything you put your mind to. Your persistence is one of my favorite things about you. I shouldn’t have tried to take that away from you. You didn’t deserve that, and I’m so sorry I thought I could do something better than you just because of our genders.”

His words made your eyes swell. You had planned on still being mad at him after this. But seeing those crystal blue eyes and hearing his sweet words made you crumble all over again. 

“I forgive you.” You sniffed and wiped the tears from your eyes again. “Just don’t do it again.”

Sanji let out a laugh. “Oh, I will never be taking on a task Franky gives you again. You know how I said it was ‘hard to screw up’? It turns out that was wrong. I broke the whole pipe. Franky was pissed. He said he doesn’t let anyone touch that problem except you and him. Something about the pressure system needing a delicate hand, and only the two of you have the knack for it.”

It took a moment for his words to process, but you could feel your heart swelling. “Franky only lets me do that?”

Sanji nodded, guiding you towards the kitchen. “And a few other tasks. Says you’re the only one he trusts to do it right.” 

“I didn’t know that.” You had a vague feeling that you needed to cry for an entirely different reason now. 

He gave another laugh and sat you at the counter. “Well, you always excel at everything you do. It turns out I have a lot to make up for. What should we start with, chocolate cake or ice cream?”

[ketaundkrawall]

hi girlie! idk if yr taking requests so feel free to discard it but i was listening to agora hills by doja cat and the idea of reader being famous artist and joost being the fan just didn’t leave me alone😭🌀🩵

thank you for the request 🫶🏻 i hope you guys enjoy it <3

Stargirl Interlude ☽｡⋆ Joost Klein

Summary: you’re a famous singer meeting one of your fans

Warnings: none, just fluff and two fangirls meeting each other (maybe smut in pt. 2 bc this ends in a cliffhanger kinda), not proofread, afab!reader, no use of Y/N

WC: 1.1k

A/N: guys pls lmk if i should do a part two (i will) 💫

What you loved most about your job was seeing the happy faces of your fans whenever you came on stage. Well, it wasn’t really a job to you, it was your destiny to stand on stage and make people happy.

You loved when the crowd chanted your name, absolutely making every stage performance of yours better when they sang the lyrics. It made you proud. And it was everything you dreamed of when you were a child. Seeing people happy and being able to help them with your music somehow.

Nonetheless, every time you went on stage you were nervous. It was a feeling that accompanied you ever since you started your career.

Today you performed in a club in Amsterdam. You’ve never actually travelled to the Netherlands before so you were really excited. Not only to perform but also to explore the city, since it was your last tour stop you were doing at the moment.

Right now you were getting all set up to go on stage. You could already hear the people outside waiting for you to come out and start the show. “You’re going to kill it babes.” Your best friend, Tommy, said as he came to a stand beside you with a drink for you which you accepted with a thanks and sipped on it. “I really hope so.” Smiling you gave him the empty cup.

Tommy always travelled with you. He has been there for you since the very beginning of your career and never left your side, always calming your nerves before the shows started and you were so fucking thankful for him. “Jeez stop being so nervous! You’re a bomb you know that and now go out there and fucking show them what you got!” He cheered you on and you laughed. Giving him one last hug and taking a deep breath you ran out

“AMSTERDAM ARE YOU READY?! LETS GET THIS PARTY GOING!” You yelled and instantly felt happiness and relief flowed your body as the crowd screamed and just went completely crazy.

And so you started your show, loving the way all the people singing with you. It really filled your heart with joy. After an hour or so you were out of breath and just needed some water. Your hair was sticking to your sweaty forehead but honestly? You couldn’t be happier. Looking throughout the crowd you smiled. “Gosh we’re having some really good looking guys here tonight done we?” You grinned and the crowd screamed.

And with ‘good looking guys’ you meant one particular one that caught your eye since the beginning of the show. Of course you knew who he was. You saw him on your TikTok the whole time, liking way too many edits that popped up on your For-You-Page.

Eyes roaming the crowd again they stopped at him for a short moment but you were sure he noticed. “Never thought an Eurovision candidate would be a fan of mine.” You now grinned at the blonde, walking towards the front of the stage and kneeling down. “Joost mother fucking Klein is listening to my music guys!” You screamed and the crowd cheered again. Eyes darting to him, you saw him laugh. It would be a lie to say you didn’t listen to his music, even though you didn’t understand a word.

Walking to the back of the stage to your DJ you said something to him and soon the melody of Europapa was blasting through the speakers and you and almost the whole audience did that silly little dance and you saw Joost laughing and cheering, definitely liking it.

After the song finished you kept on going with your show, watching Joost sing along to all of your songs. Something you never thought would happen. You played your last few songs, totally forgetting the time and soon everything was over. “THANK YOU AMSTERDAM!! I LOVE YOU!” You screamed into the mic, your eyes finding the blondes again, before walking off stage.

“Jesus babes that was amazing!” Tommy practically yelled and hugged you, making you giggle. “Thanks Tommy, hey, could you get Joost backstage?” You asked in your sweetest voice possible, bashing your lashes at him and he grinned. “Uhhh.” Scoffing you hit his arm earning a huff from him. “I see what I can do.” And with that he was off.

Walking back to your dressing room you flipped down on the couch, taking a cup with whatever liquor was inside, and opened your instagram. Your DM’s and notifications were flooded with messages, pictures and videos of what just happened. People already shipped you and even had a name for the both of you. You giggled and went on TikTok, notifications blowing up on there as well. Being so concentrated on your phone you didn’t hear the knock that was coming from the door.

As you finally did notice tho you quickly yelled a “yeah?” and the door opened. Joost standing in the doorway.

Sitting up straight now you smiled widely. “Hey.” He breathed out like he couldn’t believe he’s finally meeting you. “Hi.” You smiled back and got up to hug him. “Can’t believe I’m finally meeting you.” Joost chuckled and you smiled, pulling away. “Really?” He nodded. “Been listening to your music for a while now actually.” He confessed and it made you really proud somehow. “Well thank you.” You giggled.

Both of you sat down and started to chatter away and you couldn’t stop yourself from noticing how he was smiling the whole time as he was excitedly talking to you about everything. And you got along so well. The time flew by so fast and soon it was 4 in the morning.

“I should get going.” Joost said as he looked at his phone. You just nodded. “Yeah I’m so done. Need a lot of sleep now. Long day tomorrow. I want to do some sightseeing.” You smiled, pulling your knees to your chest. “Hey uh.” Joost started and scratched the back of his head nervously. “How about I give you my number and you hit me up? I can show you around if you want.”

Your eyes lit up as you nodded. “I’d really like that you smiled as he dropped his shoulder. You didn’t even noticed how nervous he actually was to ask you that question. Handing over his phone you quickly typed your number down along with his name. He smiled as you gave it back to him. “Then good night I guess. I see you around then.”

And with that he walked out of the club, not being able to stop the smile that was forming on his face. Taking his phone out he looked at your contact and chuckled.

You saved yourself on his phone as ‘Stargirl Interlude 💫’, your stage name.

[miss-oranje-disco-dancer]

lips of an angel

pairing: married! leon x marriage counselor! reader

cw: infidelity, p in v, oral, over-usage of 'good girl', regret, leon is an asshole (like, he's really a dick), reader is also not a good person (so, hopefully it's ooc for u lol), not proofread enough

summary: leon is married to ashley (she deserves better) and he cheats on her with reader who is the marriage counselor

a/n: based on a reddit post lol. also, it's time for us to admit that lips of an angel is such a fucking good song and leon would listen to it. (imagining this is id! leon and that song came out around that time so actually it's perfect. anyway, bye)

wc: 2.7k

[edit] taglist

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

@onlyasimp4-2dbitches

@pr3ttyd0llie

It starts like many horror stories do: with a knock at the door. He's tall, dark, and handsome, standing in the doorframe. Except not that dark, not very tall at all, but incredibly handsome and you've come to find over the sessions you've spent together that his looks are your weakness. His weakness is you. And many other women. Including his wife, who usually attends these sessions, but tonight, he comes alone. Maybe it's the rain that's beating down on the windows - thought it should sound like a warning - that makes you feel sympathetic enough to let him in when you know you shouldn't.

You let him sit on your couch, but make him hang up his leather jacket on the coat rack so he doesn't ruin the furniture. So you can see his biceps better. And his forearms when he rolls up the sleeves of his dress shirt. The first two buttons are already undone, but that's how he always dresses. You know this because you spend too much time looking at him. What does his wife wear? Skirts? Dresses? Pantsuits? She could wear a goddamn clown costume to every session and you'd be none the wiser because you're staring at her husband like he's a piece of meat.

"Not that I'm unhappy to see you, but why are you here?" you ask him. "Your appointment isn't until Wednesday."

"I'm having marriage troubles. I thought you might be able to help."

It's in the job title: marriage counselor.

"Where's Ashley?" It's a loaded question, and the gun is pointed at your entire fucking career.

"She couldn't come. Plus, I don't think she'd like to know about these problems I'm having."

You take a deep breath, contemplating absolutely nothing because you've already made your choice. You made your choice months ago when you had your first appointment with the Kennedys.

“Remember when I said I had a history of cheating?”

“I do. Has this become a problem again?”

“Not exactly,” he says with a slight chuckle that you later find is ironic in nature. “But I’ve been having thoughts…”

“Are these thoughts sexual?”

“Very.”

“Have you tried taking care of it yourself?” You make a hand gesture to signal ‘if you know what I mean’ and pray he knows what you mean so you don’t have to say the words ‘jerk off’ explicitly.

“Yes, but it hasn’t worked.” He looks directly into your eyes when he says it.

"Are these thoughts about a specific person?"

"Yes." 

His answers, which are limited to only a few words at a time, make you feel like you're shaking up a magic 8 ball, and the blue goop reveals a die that has little to say beyond 'It is certain', 'My sources say no', and 'Try again later'. 

“Is there a way you could distance yourself from this person so you don’t have any potential ‘slip ups’?” you ask.

“Sure, but I’d have to stop counseling if I did.”

“Excuse me, Mr. Kennedy-”

“Leon.”

“Right. Leon, I’m not trying to be presumptuous, but are you insinuating that these thoughts are about me?”

“That they are.” His smile gives you a golden star-shaped sticker for guessing correctly.

You give him a scowl. "I'll set you up with a new therapist, then."

“Let me ask you something,” he says, leaning forward, staring right into your soul. “Are you attracted to me too?”

“I’m not comfortable answering-”

“That’s not a ‘no’. Is it?”

You try to wipe the look of shock arousal off your face.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to admit it. I remember you asking a lot of questions about my sex life, especially the parts that don’t involve my wife, and getting visibly flustered when I answered them.”

“Of course I asked questions like that. I’m a therapist. It’s what I do. I’m sorry if you-” 

You should ask him to leave, separate yourself before you explode in frustration. Getting defensive is not a healthy way to argue. You know this. You've told him this.

“If I remember correctly you asked me about how I touch myself, when I do it, if I watch anything.” He doesn't wait for a response from you, but it wouldn't have come anyway. “And, the whole time you were sitting there chewing on your pen, pretending not to imagine it. And then writing it down in a hurry, making sure you got down every little detail.” He taps on your pad of paper.

“Can I see this for a moment?” He snags it from the table beside you and flips through the pages. Without thinking, you leap forward and try to snatch it from him, falling into his lap.

The embarrassing part is when he lifts you off of him. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“It’s highly confidential!”

“Mr and Mrs. Kennedy,” he begins to read imitating your voice.

“Enough.” You use your sternest voice with him - which is far from stern.

“It says right here that Mr. Kennedy is 'a total dick’ but ‘totally fuckable’.”

“It does not!”

“You’re right. It doesn’t. But you were thinking it. Weren’t you?” He looks up with a smile on his face that’s both charming and cruel.

"I'm not playing whatever game you're trying to play with me right now, Leon."

It's the devil's edition of 20 questions, it seems.

He flips the pad closed, and says, “I’ll leave right now if you answer one question truthfully.”

“Fine," you huff, snatching the pad of paper and stashing it out of his reach.

“Did you go home and touch yourself while thinking about me?”

You shake your head vehemently. "No. Absolutely not."

“You couldn’t even make it home, huh? You did it right here, didn’t you?”

You don't have to answer - the look on your face gives it away.

“Was it on the couch? Right where I was sitting? Where I'm sitting right now."

“Fine. You win, you got it right. Are you happy now?” You concede because you want to end this conversation as quickly as possible, so you can go hide your face and die. 

You want him to fuck you within an inch of your life and then you'll die happily. La petite mort? That's what they call it, right? You want that.

Leon just hums in response, giving you no insight into his thoughts. Though it doesn't take a therapist to guess that he's mentally fucking you. To your surprise, he slaps his hands on his thighs and stands up.

When he gets to the door, you say, “Wait-”

“What?” He asks, nonchalant to such a degree that one might believe the events of the previous few minutes never transpired at all.

“What are you doing?”

“Leaving. Like I said I would.”

“You’re just gonna leave? Do you get off on embarrassing people? Is that it?”

“No. I get off to you, and you know that." He's oddly defensive despite having the upper hand. "I also know that a large part of you despises me, but it’s because there’s a part of you that wants to fuck me.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

He shrugs. “You’re the therapist, not me.”

“I’m telling your wife.”

“You’re going to tattle on me?" He laughs. “That wouldn’t be very HIPAA-compliant of you, would it?”

“Why are you doing this?" It feels like a nightmare that you can't escape where a terrifying shadowy figure is chasing you while you're screaming out for help and no one's listening. Except, this is more horrific due to the fact that you like it. Your thoughts about the man in front of you are downright depraved. You are both the monster, mirrors of each other. 

"I thought you wanted to fix your marriage," you say.

“My wife wants to fix our marriage. You and I both know it’s doomed. But you’re not allowed to say that, are you?”

You shouldn't be saying half the things you are right now, but it's too late to turn back now. You are the sunk cost. And the ship that was the concept of 'fixing Leon's marriage' has already sailed.

“You want the truth? I’ve known since the moment you opened your mouth that your marriage was done.”

“Then why did you keep having sessions? Was it for the money?” He pauses. “I doubt it. You’re a good therapist. You could get other clients. There was another reason. And, we both know what that reason is, but I won’t make you say it. I’m not that mean.”

“You’re an asshole.”

“And that’s what you like most about me.”

“It is not.”

“Then what is it?”

“Fuck you!”

“Do you want to? I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Convince me.”

“Haven’t I already?”

“No.”

“Then why are you asking me to convince you instead of telling me to fuck off? You just want me to come up with a reason that doesn’t make you feel bad about doing it.”

“And there isn’t one.”

“No, there isn’t," he says with a bit of pity, knowing he's dragging you down into the second circle of Hell with him.

“You have to swear to tell your wife.”

“Is that a yes?”

He did not swear to tell his wife, but Leon is a cheater and a liar already. If he swore to tell his wife, you'd only be an idiot to believe him. 

“Lock the door.”

He turns around and flicks the lock. “Done.”

You stand up and his mouth is on yours. He’s the best kisser. Silver-tongued, you should've known it. You can fucking taste it too. Metallic. No, that's blood. You bit his lip hard enough to draw blood.

You’re the one who starts undressing him first but he doesn’t make fun of you. He helps you out of your top instead.

“Goddamn you have perfect tits. It’s a shame you always keep ‘em hidden.”

“It’s a professional environment.”

“Yeah, it’s so professional that you fuck your clients in it.”

“I’ve never done this before.”

"Don't worry. You’re not the first therapist I’ve fucked. I’ll lead.” Leon lays you down on the couch  - roughly, but cradling your head so you don’t knock it on anything. 

You gasp. "Leon, the couch is damp from your wet clothes," you whine.

"I promise it'll be soaked by the time I leave."

Before you can open your mouth, he’s kissing down your chest, making his way to your panties. His tongue is good at more than just talking. He has you unraveling within minutes, moaning obscenely.

“As much as love your pretty moans, baby, we’ve gotta be quiet. Don’t want you to get fired.”

“I deserve it.”

“No, you don’t. You’re a good therapist, and a good girl.”

“You think I’m a good girl?”

“So good. And you taste amazing.” He places a kiss on your clit and you nearly cry, having forgotten the feeling of his tongue in the mere seconds you spent without it. “I want you to come in my mouth.” He sucks on your clit until you do.

Leon's lips are dark and puffy when they meet yours - the ones on your face. He asks, “How did you imagine us doing it?”.

“Mostly me on top of you.”

“It’s a good idea, isn’t it?” he says, placing featherlight kisses from your jaw down your neck.

You shake your head. “None of this is.”

“I know. You've got morals. You’re a good girl.” He pauses before whispering into the shell of your ear, “That’s why you deserve to have me however you want me.”

His right hand is busy holding you steady so he fingers you with his left. You watch as his wedding band slips in and out of your pussy along with his middle finger, giving a double fuck you to his wife with each movement.

He seems fascinated by the squelching sounds, no longer focused on getting his dick inside you. The heavy rain outside covers up some of the noise but not enough to save you the embarrassment.

"Jesus. Just fuck me already." You try desperately to avoid sounding desperate, praying he takes your irritation at face value.

But you're too obvious, you wear your sick, sick heart on your sleeve. 

"You want my dick that bad and you haven't even seen it yet."

"I hope it's as big as your ego."

"No you don't. That'd be painful, medically concerning probably."

You want to laugh because he manages to be funny and charming as hell despite being an absolute dick, but that fact makes you hate him more. And the blood that courses through you has nowhere to go but south.

All the while, his fingers refuse to leave your aching center. "Leon," you whine, pushing his hand away, "you're gonna make me cum again."

"I know," he purrs. "I wanna make up for all the months you've spent here by yourself, with your fingers inside you instead of mine."

"I was pretending they were yours." There's no point in saving the confession anymore.

"I'm sure you were, but I've got somethin' better for you, baby."

And, abruptly, he removes his fingers. You watch him unbuckle his belt, and despite this being your fantasy, you look at him like he's betrayed you.

"What?" he says, coyly, "I thought you wanted this."

"I do, but I was about to cum, and you just took your fingers away. You're such an asshole!" You pout like a bratty child.

"Yeah, I know I am," he says - his words are muffled by the square packet he tears with his teeth. He slides on the rubber barrier before he picks you up and sits you down on his cock, disregarding the obscene noises you make as he shoves himself inside you all at once.

You're wet but there's a stretch. His dick is big, maybe not as big as his ego, but bigger than any you've taken before. This is how he gets away with it, you think.

"Fuck, you're tight," he groans. His hands have an iron grip on your hips. "You've gotta learn to loosen up and relax. You're too high strung. This is probably good for you."

It's not, you'll find when the orgasm wears off, but right now it feels really fucking good.

His thumb circles your clit while you bounce up and down, working well in tandem. Ironic, as you've made so little progress in your weekly sessions. As expected, the dual stimulation makes you slick with arousal, opening you up for him.

His voice sounds distant, droned out by your own moans which get even louder as his words get filthier. "Bet all your advice didn't work 'cause your brain was all fuzzy thinking about what my cock would feel like inside you. Or maybe you did it on purpose 'cause you wanted me all to yourself."

"No… n-no-" you say, voice trembling just as your thighs do.

"S'okay, baby. Girls with messy pussies like you can't help it. Just need to get some dick in you and then you can go back to being a good girl."

Can you? Maybe you can a 'good girl' in the bedroom, but a morally-upstanding woman? Even in your own eyes, he's corrupted you.

Still, you call out for him, "Leon," you cry, the singular syllable drawn out. You are lucky that the thunder from the storm is louder than your voice could ever be.

"I know," he says, "I'm close too."

The way your walls squeeze him when you cum drags his own orgasm from him. 

You are oddly dissatisfied at the fact that he spills into the condom, not into you. It feels so impersonal. Because it is. It doesn't escape you that he didn't say your name - not even a pet name - just a simple 'fuck' when he came.

You point him in the direction of the trashcan where he can throw away the physical evidence of the mess you've made.

His pants are back on in a second while you remain naked on the couch.

"Where are you going?"

"Home," he says. "Ashley's making dinner. Don't wanna keep her waiting."

"You're gonna go home to her?" you say, more disappointed than surprised.

"Yeah. What did you think I was going to do?"

Truly, you weren't thinking. If you were, you would not have had sex with Leon. 

"I'm surprised you're not happy. I'm gonna go spend some quality time with my wife. That was your advice - wasn't it?"

"Yeah, but-"

"But what? You're our marriage counselor. I'm just trying to fix my marriage."

"You're doing an awful job."

"I know," he says, with his hand on the doorknob. "See you on Wednesday."

[pedrostylez]

I’m Here When You Need Me

Joel Miller x f!reader One Shot

Warnings: Angst, feelings, longing, cheating on the readers part, Joel just wants you to be happy, high key hating reader’s husband, age gap mentioned (Joel is in his 50’s, no reader age), insecurities, mentions of body and working out, insecurities, nipple and breast play, fingering, dirty talk, unprotected piv sex ( wrap it people), oral f recieving, I think that’s it

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: this has had minimal edits and I’m posting from my phone so don’t be judging me!!!! Heed the warnings. I hope you guys enjoy 😊

He’s at it again, dreaming of you wrapped around him. Soft to the touch, warm and needy, just how he likes you.

The telltale sound of his phone wakes him from the comfort of his dreams, vibrating through the pillow to his ear. When he squints his eyes to see your name on the screen, his heart freezes for a moment. You don’t typically call, so it must be important. “Hello?” He sounds groggy, and he hears your pause before a deep sigh. He knows you feel bad for calling him, even though you knew he would be asleep. “What is it, baby?”

“Don’t call me that.” You hiss, breath coming quickly through the receiver, the sound of your teeth biting at your nail.

“Are you alone?” He asks, now sitting up in bed. He’s used to a rogue text here and there, asking if he’s home so that you can slip out while your husband is asleep, or at work. He’s never texted you first, never been the initiator except for the once when he first spotted you in the bar. But a phone call in the middle of the night? Unheard of.

“Yeah.” You sigh, frustration clear in your voice.

He frowns, rubbing at his chin and shuffling out of bed. “Door’s open, baby.” It slips out, and he winces, figuring you’ll correct him again. He can’t help it.

You don’t say anything about the nickname, just give him a quiet goodbye and an ETA.

He doesn’t bother to remake the bed, doesn’t bother to clean up anything. He used to; used to make sure all the dishes were done and that the floor was swept for you. He was embarrassed, a 50 something year old man still living alone and had somehow gotten your attention. He wanted to leave a good impression.

But after enough times of you storming in, how you would grab around the collar of his shirt and thrust yourself at him to feel something, to distract you from whatever issues you were having with him, he stopped worrying.

A habit he shouldn’t get into, but he knew you would come around again and again.

Joel flicks on the outside light, looking out the curtain briefly before sitting on the couch and turning on the TV. He keeps the sound low, listening for the sound of your truck to pull up next to his. His pants are low, riding just below the elastic band of his underwear, loose and warm under the flannel.

He sighs, switching the channel and scratching at his incoming beard. He doesn’t know what mood you’ll be in, what you’ll want, but trying to wake himself up after a long day on the job is all he can do to prepare for you.

The sound of your door slamming has him turning his head, listening to your sneakers shuffle on his brick pathway. The pause at his door, where he swears he can hear you take a deep breath before twisting the knob and letting yourself in.

Your hair, swept to one side and down, loose, wild, has his mouth upturned out of habit. He loves you wild. “Hey.”

“What’s going on?” He asks quietly, letting you shut his front door and slip your sneakers off. He doesn’t dare move, afraid that he might scare you off by being too concerned. You’re in your own set of pajamas, loose shirt and flannel pants with a sweatshirt zipped in the front.

When you sit beside him, you lean into him with your head on his chest. One, two, three big breaths leave your mouth as he wraps an arm around you. It gives you the courage to say what you came here for. “I don’t think he loves me.”

Joel’s heart sinks, the sound of your voice defeated. His arm squeezes around you, looking down to the crown of your head. “No, baby that’s not true.” It slips out again, and he closes his eyes to try and recenter himself. Stop calling her baby.

“He won’t even look at me anymore.” You say again, tilting your head to look Joel in the eye. You’ve accepted it, eyes not shimmering with sadness. “He says he wants me but…never initiates. It’s like I’m begging just for an ounce of attention.”

Joel holds his face neutral, his blood boiling. He wants you, he would give you the attention you deserve. He knows that’s why you’re here, that’s why you called–

“I don’t think he finds me attractive anymore.” You whisper, an uncommitted shrug before you bury your head back against his chest.

Joel rubs his hand up and down your back, looking up toward the TV for a moment. Reruns of Seinfeld, laugh tracks and a bright screen fill his senses. He keeps quiet, keeping his hand moving to reassure you before he says, “I think the world of you.”

You shake under his arm with a brief chuckle, resting your hand on his stomach and swirling, swirling, swirling your finger around his belly button.

He resists sucking his stomach in, knowing you’ll chastise him like you have before. He wants to hold you, body against body to prove to you how much he wants you. “Do you want to go lay down with me?” He asks quietly, feeling your hair slide away from his arm as you pull away from him.

“Sure.” You reach for the remote, clicking off the screen and unzipping your sweatshirt. You turn to him, smirking as you step in the direction of his bedroom. “Just to sleep?”

“If that’s what you want.” Is his immediate answer. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve come to his door just wanting to fall asleep on his chest; he wouldn’t mind it in the least, just to have you next to him.

But the way you smile, the way your eyes shimmer with want, he knows that isn’t what will be happening.

No, not when he turns off all the lights and heads to the bedroom and finds you already under the covers. Your quiet voice asking him to turn off the lights is new, but he obliges.

He fumbles to the bed, getting under the covers and hearing your giggle when you reach for his hand and place it on your breast. He laughs as well, swiping his thumb back and forth over your nipple until it is taunt, peaked against the pads of his fingers. He presses his mouth to your jaw, lightly pinching to hear your whimper against his ear.

He sighs happily, groaning when your fingers wrap around his cock through his pajamas. Your hands are warm, pressing heat into him in ways he misses when you’re gone. He lets his fingers drift down your side, counting your ribs quietly to himself. “Let me see you, baby?” He inquires, letting his lips run down the column of your throat, pressing deeply into the curve of your collarbone.

He feels your tension, the way you freeze for only an instant before going back to your loosened and easy going movements. “What? Don’t like surprises?” You question, squeezing your hand around the head of him briefly before pushing down his pants.

He springs free, your fingers lightly dancing down his shaft making him groan. He wants to tell you that it’s not that he doesn’t like surprises, but he wants to watch you. He looks down, blankets haphazardly in the way, only giving him a peek at what your hand is doing around him.

It feels like heaven, your hand with small calluses at the base of each finger. The smoothness of the rest, silky and enticing pumping up and down, your thumb swiping at the weeping hole to spread some of the wetness around.

He moves the sheet out of the way, letting his eyes trail to your chest before looking up at you as his tongue pokes out, circling the same nipple from before. Your mouth opens in awe, eyes fluttering shut and head thrown back. “J-Joel–”

“Let me see you.” He’s muffled against your skin, flicking his tongue against you and letting his fingers drift further and further down. Joel’s fingers brush over the hem of your underwear, and he can’t help the smile that grows on his face as you giggle. He knows it’s ticklish there, just as he dips his fingers into the humid skin beneath.

Your breath hitches, eyes opening more fully as he moves the blankets with his arm. He notices how you watch it, suddenly self conscious as your legs start to spread for him. “I’m cold, Joel.”

He pauses, letting only the knuckle of his first two fingers continue their movement under the strain of your underwear. You’re slick, his fingers easily moving over your clit with a laziness that he knows you like. You don’t want to be rushed-ever; it’s why you go to his place to begin with. “I’ll warm you up.”

“N-no.” You close your eyes, shaking your head as if falling out of this fantasy. “I want the blankets up here.”

Joel’s fingers pause now, head tilting up to you and frowning. He can see you more clearly now, his eyes having adjusted to the street lamps that filter through his curtains. You’re almost naked below him, frowning with your eyes downturned, looking toward his hand instead of his face. He brings his other hand up, tilting your chin to look directly at him. “What’s wrong, baby?”

You attempt at a scoff, but he’s not buying it. “I’m cold, I told you–”

“You know I think you’re beautiful, right?” He gruffs, frown going deeper as he sees you shake your head. “You know I like to see how you react, touch you, look at you. Why do you want to be covered?”

“I’ll just put my shirt back on.” You snarl, teeth coming out to bite as you lean over the side of the bed, reaching for the shirt you had tossed off before he followed you into the bedroom.

His fingers wrap around your wrist, pulling your arm back and holding you to the bed. Unable to roll, you wiggle under him, pulling your hand free to reach again. When he catches you again, you groan unhappily, getting into a pulling and pushing match with him.

He’s stronger than you, the creases in his forehead deepening as he let’s you get away enough times to tire you out, but not letting you escape his question. “Quit fightin’ me, and tell me what is going on.”

Your hands are secured to the pillows below you, breasts bouncing from the intensity of it and your deep breaths. He can’t help how his eyes trail down, wanting to look at you, but seeing you squirm uncomfortably.

You stay silent, glaring at him and then looking to the ceiling as if you’re just going to ignore the question. Joel sighs, annoyance bubbling up in him and trying to tamp it down. It clicks suddenly in his head, that something must have been said to you. “Why do you want to be covered?”

Your eyes trail back to his, your furrowed brow slowly relaxing, the tension in your arms reducing to where Joel releases his grip and lets his fingers trail down to hold your torso. His hands wrap around you, his thumbs stroking at the soft skin under each breast. He’s not sure if your eyes are shimmering with tears, or if it is just a trick in the light when you say, “He…he asked if I had been working out lately.” You swallow, shaking your head. “A-and when I said no, he…he said ‘that’s obvious.’”

Joel’s breath comes quickly, his fingers subconsciously digging into your skin to hold himself steady. He said what? He can’t help but stare at you, waiting for more to come, but you just stare back with a slow buildup of tears in your lash line.

Another moment of silence before you’re sniffling, bringing a hand up to cover your eyes as if embarrassed. Joel releases you as he feels your body shutter, pulling the blankets up around you both and moving his fingers to cradle your head. He lets his dull nails scratch at your scalp, shushing and cooing at you until you’re pressed against him, naked skin on skin in a humid cloud under his blankets.

He lets you cry; it’s the first he’s really ever seen you do so since meeting you. You’ve always been strong, secure and confident in how you present yourself. He found it off putting, in some ways-he had never been with a woman that didn't need him. He was used to being the provider. But you’d always taken care of yourself, came and went as you pleased, and didn’t ask for anything else.

His heart swells with want. “You’re alright baby, I’ve got you.” He husks, moving his fingers to the back of your neck and massaging at the tense muscles there. “He’s a fucking moron, you know that don’t you? You’re beautiful, you’ve got me wrapped around your finger.”

You shake your head, tears having stopped and a small smile making its way across your face. “No I don't, Miller.”

“You do.” He relents, tilting his head down to look at you again. Red eyes and wet lashes, but otherwise okay. His thumb runs under your eyes, absorbing tears from your face almost instantly. “He shouldn’t be speaking to you that way.”

You roll your eyes. “It’s not a big deal. He’s right, it’s probably why our marriage isn’t going great.”

“That’s not true.” He says immediately, letting his thumb drift to your lower lip and pull it down briefly. “You think your marriage isn’t going well because he doesn’t find you attractive?”

“Among other things.” You sigh, now back to your previous demeanor. Your fingers are dancing over his chest, swirling his chest hair around. “Joel, it’s fine.”

“It’s not.” He argues. “You’re someone any decent man would want. How can he just–”

“Please just, let’s move on.” You cut him off, pressing a flat palm firmly into his chest.

He closes his mouth, breathing heavily through his nose to calm himself down from giving a full lecture. He wants you to understand, to hear him fully. You deserve better than what you have.

You both lay there silently for a moment, just breathing together and not moving. He keeps his eyes on yours, watching yours flick down to his mouth and feeling the way you minutely move towards him. He doesn’t dare move, wanting you to be the one that initiates.

Your hand is gentle against his lower stomach, gliding down again to his now softened cock. It stirs, easy to respond to you. Joel stops your hand, wrapping his fingers around your wrist. “Is this what you want?”

“Yes.” You’re breathy, pupils having gone wide as he lets go of your wrist. It doesn’t take him long to get hard again with how you move your hand, his mind both empty and racing with thoughts.

When you roll on to your back, offering a silent invitation for him to get on top, he’s eager to let his legs tangle with yours and settle between your thighs. He presses his mouth to your collarbone, trailing down below the blanket as you wished for before, his tongue peeking out when he gets to your core.

You sigh happily when his tongue meets your clit in slow, agonizing circles. He prefers to watch you when he does this, eyes up on your face as his tongue swoops back and forth, over and over the hood of your clit until you’re squirming and reaching down to fist at his hair. He likes watching your neck shine with a thin layer of sweat, the way your hair begins to stick to your face and your eyes closing tightly to just feel him.

But right now he’s below the covers, holding one leg down and open to better feast on his meal, the other reaching up and intertwining his fingers with yours. The hand not in his must be bracing yourself against his headboard, your moans muffled by the sheets and blankets surrounding him.

He lets his tongue dip into you, squeezed briefly by your walls and the yelp you let out makes him chuckle. You never expect the first intrusion, spreading your legs wider to let his shoulders be flat against you, his laugh vibrating against your skin.

He continues this pattern, dipping into you with his tongue, circling your clit, and back again. He doesn’t know how long it goes on for, over and over to the point that he’s closed his eyes to feel you instead of watching you. His cock is hard between his legs, pressing against the end of his mattress and begging to be touched by your hand.

There’s a gust of cool air as you lift the sheet away from him, tossing it to the cold side of the bed and reaching down to his hair. He groans again, missing the feeling of your hand on any part of him, and he winces at the tug you give.

You’re pulling him up, wanting his lips on yours and for him to cover you. He obliges, pressing his lips to yours and grabbing at your thighs to lift around his middle. It would be embarrassing, how hard he is for you right now, pressed to your center and grinding against the slick that he left there, but he can’t care right now.

You want him, and that’s his priority; keeping you wanting him.

“Taste so sweet, baby. You want a little?” He says gently against your lips, pressing into your again and letting his tongue sweep into your mouth. You moan, a high and breathy sound that he loves. “That’s right, you like that, don’t you?”

He waits for your nod of approval, how you lunge for his mouth again and happily kiss his lips and jaw as he adjusts his hips to better line himself up with your center. “Joel, please, get inside me already.”

“Impatient.” He mumbles, smirking at you and tilting his head to bite at your ear. He knows you’re ticklish there, wanting to hear your laugh another time before he fills you and loses all sense of himself inside you.

He feels you tilt your hips for him, letting your half-lidded eyes meet his. The head of his cock weeps, aching to be inside you. Joel moves himself to let his head rest against your waiting entrance, beginning the slow slide in.

He can’t stop the thoughts in his mind, racing around in circle. I love you. I love you. I love you.

Once fully seated inside, you both groan in unison, his arms strained to pull away just enough to look down to where you both are connected. “Fuck.” He bites out, looking back up to your face and letting one hand rest on your jaw. “You’re so fucking perfect around me.”

“Joel, move honey.” You whine, reaching out to his shoulders and pulling him back to you. Your nails dig into the taunt muscle, the feeling soothing him.

Honey.

You don’t call him that unless you’re in a different headspace–where you forget the circumstances of why you’re here. It was difficult early on for Joel to get you to relax, even though the act itself made you like putty in his hands. No, he focused on you mentally relaxing, truly forgetting your worries. When you were like this, he could say what he meant. “You’re so perfect baby.” He strains, thrusting into you at a slow and methodical pace. His hips press into the backs of your thighs, his fingers holding around your jaw tighter. “So fucking wet, you wanted this, huh? Wanted me to fuck you like this?”

You nod as he speeds up, the sound of your skin slapping against his now more prominent, the frame of the bed creaking quietly behind it. I love you. I love you. I love you.

He has to stop himself from saying it. The first time he had, he thought it would be the end of whatever the two of you had going. It had slipped out over six months ago, on your way out the door after riding him on the couch.

“I love you.” He had said quietly, watching you redress after climbing off of him.

You turned to him, a half smile on your face. “No, you don’t.” You said simply, waving at him and going on your way. He didn’t expect you to call him after that, and was shocked when just the next night you were on his doorstep waiting for him after work.

And now you’re below him, and just as every time before after that first admission, he wants to say it again. You’re crying out, asking him to come instead of announcing you’re going to, and he speeds up his movements. “You wanna finish around my cock?” He asks, his voice unrecognizable. “I’ll let you, go ahead baby. Let me see it.”

You nod, tears brimming your eyes again for a different reason than before. He feels you tighten in waves around him, sucking him in further as he tries to hold himself back. Joel continues to pump his hips, his lower back tingling with his own release ready.

“J-Joel–” you moan, digging your nails deeper into his shoulder. “Come inside me, pl-please.”

He grunts, forgetting himself and pushing forward with a whine he’s never heard leave his mouth. His eyes close as his come coats your walls, warm and welcoming of it. Joel rests his forehead against yours, sweaty skin pressed to sweaty skin, smiling down at you and breathing heavily. “Fuck baby–”

“Don’t call me that, honey.” You tease, eyes fluttering shut and an award winning smile spreading across your face.

He pulls out, wincing at how tight you are around him still, resting on his side and letting his arm wrap around your middle. “Stay?” He asks quietly, watching you turn your head and opening your eyes to look at him.

You think for a moment. “I need to clean up, and then I’ll decide.”

He grunts in disapproval, letting you slip out of his grasp and step into the ensuite bathroom. The light blinds him briefly, your ass the only thing he can see as you lean over the sink to get a closer look in the mirror. Joel props his head up, watching as you push up on the balls of your feet to get closer, your arms coming out to the door frame and leaning over to look at him. “Do you have wipes?”

He had bought some after the first few times of you being there, asking every time if he had any. He had got you to say what brand they were, and he kept them stocked now. “First drawer on the right.”

You hum happily, pulling out a face wipe and turning back to him, watching him as you scrub at your forehead and cheeks. “Did you want to clean up?”

He shakes his head. “Want to keep you on me, if you don’t mind?”

You smirk, rolling your eyes as if you don’t care. When you finish, you flick the light off and walk toward the bed, Joel blinded briefly from the change in light. “Where’d you go, baby?”

“I’m here.” You whisper, shifting the bed as you climb in and pull the covers from the other side to cover you both. You’re still naked, now cooled skin against him. “I’ll stay, if that’s okay.”

“Of course.” He whispers back, smiling to himself and wrapping an arm around your shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of your head, enjoying how you snuggle into his body and neck, fitting perfectly with him. “I’d let you stay as long as you want. You know that.”

You sigh, circling your fingers against his chest hair. “What if…” you trail off, fear taking hold of your voice in a way that makes Joel uncomfortable. He squeezes an arm around you, waiting. “What if I’m too scared to have things change?” You whisper, tensing in his arms.

Joel remains relaxed, his mind swimming with I love you, I love you, let me love you. He sighs, pressing another kiss to your head. “I’m here for when you need me, if you want me.” He says quietly, feeling you relax in his arms again.

Your eyelashes flutter against his skin, your breath slowing down and becoming deeper. As you fall asleep, Joel swallows harshly. He’s here when you need him, and it was never going to change.

[harryspet]

I love rafe x reader x jj!

I had a similar idea to the previous anon, an AU where reader is Barry’s sister and in between Barry and Rafe’s schemes, Rafe and reader get friendly. And Barry tries to keep reader out of their business so she’s pretty sheltered and depends on them. And JJ is already dealing drugs with Rafe so he gets close to reader as well. And Barry gets arrested for selling drugs (or maybe Rafe and JJ framed him) and reader has no where else to go but to them! They take full advantage claiming Barry made lots of enemies (somewhat true) and reader must stay with them and never leave their side (not true) to be safe.

[warnings] dark!jj x reader x dark!rafe, reader is barry's sister, little editing 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

a/n: i started writing this idea out, enjoy :):)

word count: 1.4k

When the Chateau came into view, your blistering feet thanked you. Your legs were exposed, your white nightgown only covered half your thighs, and the underbrush from the forest had scraped your skin horribly. You’d never actually visited here, and Barry would have never allowed you, but an hour ago, he’d forced you to leave the house. 

Heart practically beating outside of your chest, you climbed up the porch, your cowboy boots stepping over empty bottles of beer. You knocked on the screen door, probably a little bit too softly, but you had no idea who was going to open the door, “Y/N?” You jumped, your head snapping to the side to find JJ Maybank lying down on an old couch. He takes off the hat that was resting over his eyes, tosses it to the side, and sits up. “What? What are you doing here?”

Your body was already shaking, and your voice started to do the same, “I-I don’t have anywhere–” You wrapped your arms around your body, holding yourself tightly, “I-I d-don’t–”

JJ, shirtless and wearing khaki shorts, crossed the porch, placing a hand on your lower back, “Hey, it’s okay,” He whispered, his tone not able to hide his concern, “Something happened to Barry?” 

You nodded, knowing your voice would just shake if you answered verbally.

“Come inside. The place is empty. John B. has been MIA for a couple of days,” JJ explains, opening the door before smoothly guiding you inside the Chateau. It’s eerily quiet, but you welcome the peaceful sound, finding it much better than the sound of Barry shouting and police sirens blaring, “Come sit, I’ll get you a glass of water.”

He moves a pile of what looks like maps, letters, and a stack of cash before patting the couch cushion. You sit down, still holding yourself to calm your nerves, and watch as he rushes off to grab a glass from the kitchen. You were appreciative – God, he had no idea how thankful you were. 

“You mind if I ask what has you hiking through the swamp this late at night?” He handed you the glass, kneeling in front of you as he began to examine your legs, “You’re lucky the mosquitos didn’t eat you all the way up, kid”

Shakily, you took a sip from the glass, “The cops, uhm, they were coming. H-He told me to go a-and …usually he tells me he’ll be back in a few days. But he was getting … he was getting all his guns out and i-it didn’t seem like … I-I just k-kept–” 

JJ’s eyes were fixed on you, his lips pressed into a thin line as he listened carefully, “Hey, I know you’re scared …I’ve been in your position so many times with my Dad. And I always ran to the Chateau too.” 

You nodded, tears beginning to fall. Gently, JJ grabbed your face, brushing the tears away with his thumb, “You’re going to be okay. I’m right here, you’re not alone.”

“What will-” You hiccupped, “What will I do?”

You couldn’t survive on your own with a tenth-grade education and your ten-dollar-an-hour coffee shop job. You were always a good kid, but you were never book smart, and Barry didn’t force you to go to school after you started flunking your classes. He’s happily taken care of you for your entire life, your parents hadn’t been in the picture since you were five and Barry was ten. You’d never gotten in trouble like Barry had, and he’d made sure of that, never involving you in his business. 

Befriending JJ was a consequence of Barry’s business, but JJ never involved you in dealing drugs either. He was someone to talk to, and he’d always come by Sunset Coffee after the morning rush and ask how your day was going. 

“Let me make a call. Maybe Rafe will have more information about what’s going down, I know he helped him with a huge shipment the other day. We’ll figure this out.”

You thought it was a good idea instantly. “T-Thank you, JJ.”

“Yeah, no problem, kid.” His smile made you forget, for a small moment, your world was crashing down. 

Rafe was around even more than JJ. He could be nice when he wanted to, although you preferred him when he wasn’t acting erratically or getting into screaming matches with your brother. Besides that, you couldn’t even count how many times he drove you home from work and kept you from having an eight-mile bike ride. 

It wasn’t long after you’d finished the glass of water, and JJ had started to clean the dripping blood from your legs, that a truck rolled into the grassy front lawn of the Chateau, “That’s Rafe,” JJ said, although it had only been about ten minutes since he hung up the phone, “He said he’d drive by your place, see what’s up.”

You stood instantly, and JJ followed after you as you rushed out of the front door. Rafe was climbing out of his truck when you rushed towards him, “Did you see anything?” Your pitch was raised, fear laced in your tone. That same concern you noted in JJ’s features, unexpectedly, you saw in Rafe. 

A sigh left his lips, and nervous fingers ran through his light brown hair. “I didn’t see him; they must’ve already taken him down to the station. There were at least five Kildare officers, and I saw a few special agents, too. They were grabbing stuff from the house.”

You felt yourself sink at the information just as you felt JJ’s hand on your back again. Your hand found its way to your heart, and you checked to make sure your heart wouldn’t explode out of your chest: “I-I want to see him. Maybe I can talk to him, and he can … he can tell me what’s going on.”

“They won’t let you see him yet,” Rafe added quickly. 

“It’s also one in the morning,” JJ spoke softly from behind you. 

“It wouldn’t be a good move, princess,” Rafe said, his tone soft but somehow still sharp, “The police would just take the opportunity to try and question you about whatever they’re charging him with. They’ll try to break you down and threaten you with jail time. It won’t be worth it. It’s not what Barry would want.”

“What happened?” You shook your head, not believing that was real, “H-He would’ve warned me i-if–”

“You’re right. He would’ve warned you if he knew, so he didn’t know,” Rafe started, “I warned him that these guys he was dealing with were no good. He thought he was some kind of big-shot, dealing with those cartel guys.”

“What?” You gaped, looking back and forth between the two men. You stepped away, but Rafe caught your wrist. 

“I’m sorry you’re hearing this from us, not him,” Rafe apologized.

“JJ?”

“He was starting to make a lot of enemies …” His voice trailed off like the words were painful for him to stay, “The Kook is telling the truth.”

“We’ll look after you,” Rafe said. 

“Yeah, until this all blows over. It’s gonna take a minute. We gotta, you know, assess the situation. The same guys that ratted him out might be looking for you too. And there are probably people who aren’t happy that the shit they were going to buy off of him is now in police custody.” 

“Y-You’re saying people might want to hurt m-me,” You stuttered out, JJ taking your other arm in his hand. Not only was your brother gone for who knows how long, your life was in danger. You found yourself leaning into their touch, letting them keep you balanced so you didn’t collapse. 

“No–” 

Rafe interrupted JJ. 

“We’re saying we’re going to look after you until all this blows over. We’ve both had our ups and downs with him, but he’s had our backs more than once. We owe it to him.”

“I can’t ask you to–”

This time JJ interrupted you, “Trust us. Let us take care of you, Y/N.”

It was a perfect storm, both of them coming together to save you. You didn’t have the time to ponder how exactly it happened, you only cared whether your brother would be okay, I don’t have anything–”

“We’ll spend the night here. You should get some rest. When you wake up, we’ll go to Tannyhill. Everything you need, we'll take care of it,” Rafe assured you, and JJ seemed to believe it was a good plan too.

“Yeah, come on, kid. Let's tuck you in.” Neither of them were making requests, but honestly, you didn’t want to make any decisions of your own. 

Together, your two protectors led you back to the Chateau. 

+

feel free to send smutty thoughts/ideas for this pairing or anything else rafe x reader x jj!

[fools-ramblings-and-whatnot]

Fool's Ramblings #18: Kisses are mandatory!

Premise, Yuu/MC is an otherworlder but they do not come from our world (Earth). So kinda an alien(?)

Imagine if Yuu came from a world were personal space has a different concept and kissing someone can mean a variety of things depending on where they kiss.

For example:

Forehead-Get well soon/I care for you/I'm worried for you

Backside of hand- Nice to meet you

Palm of hand- Please help me/Can I ask a favor?

(Edit)Both Palm of Hands- Thank you!

A kiss on one finger- Shut the fuck up

Right cheek- Greeting (a smacking sound is more platonic)

Left cheek-Goodbye

Both cheeks- I'll see you soon!

Kiss on the lips- I love you/I confess my love (Couple Exclusive)

Nose kiss- Good morning/Goodnight

Kiss on the neck- Do you want to fight me?!/Are you looking for a fight?/Threat (cuz the neck is a vulnerable area)

(Edit) Kiss on the nape- I trust you (more intimate)

Kiss on the eyelids- Goodnight

(Edit) Flying kiss (One hand)- I hate you! /I am Angry at you!

(Edit): Kiss both hands,(knuckes)- I'm sorry/I apologize

(Edit): Air kiss (no hand gesture, kinda looks like a pout): Trust me!

(Edit) Right ear- Listen to me/pay attention (Intimate), kiss is a bit lingering; Left ear- Listen to me/pay attention (casual), it's a quick peck!

(Edit) Kiss on TOP of head-Good Job/Congratulations/You did well

(Edit) Kiss on the Jaw- I miss you!

(Edit) Collaborne to chest kiss- You are my eternal love/I love you so much -Couple exclusive (Context)

(Edit) Temple kiss- You are an idiot/Think better/Use your brain!

(Edit) Shoulder Kiss- Encouragement

(Edit) Pulse point/wrist- I love you (Platonic)

Etc.

And when Yuu/MC came to Twst! their habit just came like second nature and that's how they interact with their friends and upperclassmen. Basically they have a different concept of personal space.

(Part 18.5: Kiss marks)

Edit:

The Each kiss placement has its own meaning, however, depending on the context of the situation, the kiss meaning can be slightly change. Quick pecks in general are more casual Lingering ones means convery a deeper a stronger feeling. (From "nice to meet you" to "I am so happy to meet you". and depending also with the current ambiance may even be "I am so happy I met you, my love". ) Other Example: A quick peck on the neck means "I am will hurt you if you don't stop", but a lingering one can mean "After this kiss, expect that I will hurt you", then immediately punching the opponent's face. A kiss on the forehead before the exams "I worry you will fail", A kiss on the forehead when the other is sick "I worry and hope you will get well soon"

Therefore to understand Yuu's kiss language its a combination of

Kiss placement+ length of time+ environment/ambiance+ who you are talking to= Interpretation

Tag is #TwstKissAU

Disclaimer: The meaning of kisses is made up purely of vibes, thus if it has any similarities to kiss meaning in real life, it may be a coincidence.

[mydearesthrry]

sweet nothing - h.s.

a/n: TOTALLY LOST THE PLOT WHILE WRITING THIS. IT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BASED OFF OF THE PICTURE BELOW BUT I GOT DISTRACTED. pls listen to sweet nothing by taylor swift for the full experience!!!

🎀 warnings/cw: none, most tooth rotting fluff ever.

🐇 pairing: fem!reader x harry styles

💐 wc: 1.6k

summary: taking care of a very sleepy harry in an ice bath, and in the car.

“H, the bath is ready, bub.” Harry heard his girlfriend call quietly to him. He was slumped on the couch, this show particularly draining. He was quieter than usual, and instead of being glued to Y/N’s side like he usually was, he let one kiss to her full lips suffice before he decided to rest. 

“Mm, thank you, lovie. I’ll… I’ll be there in a second, jus’ don’t have the energy to go there right now.” His limbs were sore, almost every part of his body completely lost of energy, and he found it hard to even entertain the thought of getting up. 

“Okay… y’know what, just let me help you, H. The faster we get you into this bath, the faster we can go back to the hotel so you can sleep.” He knew she was right, and because he knew she was right, he allowed her to help (though not really at all since he already had felt bad that she ran the ice bath for him) him get to the bathroom. They walked slowly to the connected bathroom, Harry walking zombie-like in her arms. 

“Ready, sweet boy?” She tried to be as quiet as possible, the fact that Harry probably had a headache in the front of her mind. He nodded softly, stripping down to his boxers before letting her help him balance as he stepped into the bath. 

A wince immediately left him, Y/N whispering out ‘I’m sorry’s, knowing how shocking the bath was at first. She lowered herself with him, and sat on the floor next to the bucket when he sat down, submersing himself fully. 

“Okay bubs, y’know we’ve gotta do this so you don’t fall asleep on me. You ready?” Y/N says, pulling out her phone to pull up the trivia questions she’d pre written for the late night ice bath trivia that had become a tradition for them. Harry hums, and she flips to her notes to start. 

“Pick the category, my love. We’ve got pop culture, or the Marvel Cinematic Universe.” She asked, looking up at him, heart breaking a little at the exhausted expression that was obvious on his face. 

“Marvel.” He mumbles, sinking himself lower until his neck up was the only part of his body above water. 

“Okay… Timer officially starts now. Who played the character Pietro Maximoff, also known as Quicksilver?” Her tone was soft, almost at a whisper. 

“Umm… Aaron Taylor Johnson?” Harry questioned, racking his brain to try his hardest to stay awake. His body had now gotten used to the stark cold that he’d slowly started to get used to over the times he’s done this on tour. 

“Good job, baby. What was the name of Peter Parker’s love interest in Spider-Man: Homecoming? This one should be easy, it’s one of my favorite movies.” She giggled, a serene sense of peace overcoming her at the domesticity of it all. 

“It is easy, she’s called Liz, right? Liz Allan, or something.” His eyes were now closed, feeling the tension in his body slowly disintegrate from the cold of the water. 

“Perfect! Though the both of us know that Peter and MJ were the better couple, they were entirely more in love and cuter.” She smiled. 

“Oh, really? Like us then, hm?” Harry hummed. 

“Yes, H, exactly like us.” A few more questions had passed, and Lloyd had now come to join them in the bathroom, his camera hung around his neck. They’d anticipated him coming anyway, knowing that he would come to snap some behind the scenes pictures. Before they’d even left to go to his dressing room, they’d told Lloyd when to come in so that he could come talk to them. 

“Hey guys, sorry for intruding, but I need one of you to pick a few pictures for tonight so I can get them edited by tomorrow.” Lloyd tried to keep his voice quiet too, knowing the kind of atmosphere he was entering before he even came to meet the two in the bathroom. 

“Oh yeah, of course, did you want some pictures too?” Harry smiled, a tired but polite look on his face. Harry had built a great relationship with Lloyd over the months that they’ve been on tour, and they’d gotten more comfortable with each other than they’d anticipated. 

“Only if you’re comfortable, H.” Lloyd smiled. Y/N and Lloyd talked for a second, scrolling through pictures and picking out a few for him to edit. The time they took allowed Harry to rest in the cold for a little, before pushing himself up and folding over, dipping his head into the ice cold water. He could faintly hear Lloyd’s footsteps move to the front of the tub, along with the flicking of the camera shutter going off as he lifted his head out of the tub, ringing out his hair from the nape of his neck to the front of his scalp. 

A couple more flutters from the camera shutters were heard when Harry was rubbing his eyes with the pruny tips of his fingers, and he failed to see the smile on Lloyd’s face. 

Lloyd pulled the camera from his eyes, looking at the digital screen that held a preview of the picture. In the corner, slightly blurred because of the harsh focus that was set on Harry in the center, say Y/N with a soft smile playing on her lips, a moony gaze in her eyes. He made a mental note to send it to them later, and to also crop her out in the final edit in an attempt to salvage their private relationship. 

“Perfect. I’ll let you two rest now, think I’m gonna head to the hotel now myself. Sleep well, you guys, I’ll send you the pictures in the morning.” Lloyd smiles at them, sharing goodnights before closing the door behind him as he walked out. 

Harry’s now damp hair was combed back by his fingers and rested on the top of his head, save for the rogue curl that shriveled in a tiny curl on his forehead. Y/N rested her arms on the side of the tub, a gleam in her eyes as she watched Harry’s relaxed expression. Her timer, however, had different plans for the relaxed couple, and went off with shrill screams, notifying them that it was now time for Harry to leave the bath. 

“Alright sweet boy, time to go.” She tapped on her screen to stop the ringing, standing up to grab his black and white striped towel. She met him in the middle, her boyfriend already standing on the towel that laid outside of the tub, water droplets falling from his body in a soft cascade, small shivers shaking his shoulders slightly. Wrapping the towel around his shoulders, she pushes herself up onto her tiptoes to meet the level of his face, pecking soft kisses onto his cold lips. They stayed in that position for a bit, waiting for Harry’s skin to absorb the rest of the small water droplets. 

She led him with a soft tug to the main space in the dressing room, taking the outfit she’d gotten ready for him while he was on stage from the makeup chair and placed it onto the couch. Leaning down a bit, she took the towel to let him remove his now soaked briefs, before passing him a pair of boxers, tossing his towel onto the back of the couch. She passed him his clothes as he dressed himself slowly, humming at the words of love and admiration he sleepily spewed out. Once he got his last article of clothing on, she took his hoodie strings into her hands and tugged it down softly, making him lean down a bit to meet her lips. 

Their lips connected in a soft caress, his bottom lip wedges in between her two lips, a sweet hum emitting from his throat from the taste of her coconut flavored chapstick, one that was his favorite. Something that could only be described as love seemed to fill the room whenever they had these kinds of moments. Moments that was completely and purely their own. 

They broke away from the kiss, and when Harry went to say something, a yawn cut him off, mouth opening wide making him resemble something of a lion, making a giggle fall from her slightly swollen lips. “Let’s get you into a bed, sleepy boy.” 

“M’kay.” Harry didn’t put up a fight, wanting to get into bed with her to snuggle more than anything. 

They walked through the halls of the venue, pushing through the back door where their driver was already waiting for them, engine started and purring softly. Y/N opens the back car door, stepping in and moving to the side since she knew Harry would follow her. The driver muttered that it would take them about 5 to 10 minutes to get to the hotel before taking off without another word. 

Y/N snapped her seatbelt on, a confused twinge on her face when she didn’t see Harry do the same. Instead, he scooted over to the middle seat, laying into her sleepily. “H, you gotta put on your seatbelt.” 

“Noooo, s’not even that far, and I jus’ wan’ y’to hold me right now.” He mumbled, slightly muffled from the way he burrowed his face into her neck. She sighed in slight exasperation, saying nothing and just letting him completely collapse and rest into her. He was almost laying completely in her lap, her hand in his hair, a soft smile playing on her lips as she looked out the window and into the city. 

She let out a tiny giggle when she felt the slight tickle of stubble on her neck, followed by sweet kisses on the expanse of it. “I love you, love y’so much, it hurts.” 

“I love you, H.” She intertwined their fingers together, bringing up his hand to her mouth and pressing featherlight kisses onto his knuckles. 

“I love you,” Harry whined, making the smallest of smiles cover her face since knew how clingy and lovey Harry got when he was tired. She tried to relish in these moments as much as possible. 

“I love you, sweet boy, the Peter Parker to my Michelle Jones.” A sweet giggle sounded from Harry as he remembered the conversation from earlier. 

“Entirely in love and cute. I agree.” 

[forjongseong]

pine-fresh // jay (ENHYPEN)

pairing: slytherin!jay x gryffindor!fem!reader

genre: hogwarts!au, somewhat rivals to lovers, smut (minors dni)

warning: profanity, a lot of making out, fingering // word count: ~4k

summary: a dash of bickering and a whole lot of miscommunication in Potions class landed you and Slytherin's Park Jongseong in detention. did you ask for it? no. did you regret it? also, no.

author's note: at last, the Slytherin!Jay of my imagination has now, sort of, come to life...

ever since I came across that edit you see on the header, I've thought about him A LOT. now that his hair is actually silver, I have thought about him MORE. especially when @jaylaxies made this, which I thought about ALSO a lot... let's just say that Slytherin!Jay has been occupying my mind a lot more than I expected.

my knowledge on the HP universe is quite limited, so please excuse if some scenes don't seem too believable (like Snape somewhat being less strict here, or detention being scrubbing the bathroom). the title of this fic refers to the password that is needed to enter the Prefects' bathroom.

now, I know I say when I post oneshots I intend for them to be standalone fics, meaning that I most likely won't write a part two. but for this one??? if a lot of you like it, and a lot of you ask for it, I might be open to writing a sequel (once I conduct a lengthy research on Hogwarts grounds)

anyway, I hope you enjoy this little treat! I'm trying to shake off my writer's block, so please expect secretary!Jay to return soon.

taglist: @jaylaxies @excusememissiloveyou @thots4hee @end-hyphen @nyanggk @maggstar @bucketofhiros @shinkenprincess-oh @mydarlingjay @mochimchimo @jongseonglogy @strawberrification12 @xiaoderrrr

permanent taglist is open! send an ask or DM if you want to be tagged.

As your House’s Prefect and one of the smartest students at school, you thought it would be impossible to dislike a class. Getting good grades in almost every subject seemed to prove that you liked learning everything, but by God, you hated Potions. Other than the fact that the lessons took place in a literal dungeon, which made it colder than any of the classrooms above, you always had to deal with the unpleasant smell of whatever was brewing in the room. Add the inconvenient detail that half of the class consisted of Slytherin students, which was more than you could tolerate.

You did not know when it started, maybe since the Sorting Hat placed you in Gryffindor or when you witnessed one of your classmates getting teased by a Slytherin, but you had a strong aversion to anything related to that house. It became so bad to the point that whenever you got paired with a Slytherin for an assignment, all you wanted to do was to get the job done quickly for the both of you so you could leave the class as soon as possible.

“Miss L/N,” called Professor Snape. Your head snapped up and you locked eyes with him, somehow convincing him that you had been listening to all his instructions despite staring into the empty vials on your table. “Today you’ll be working with Park Jongseong.”

You nodded softly and once Snape turned his head towards another student, you made an audible groan and leaned back on your chair.

“You don’t sound so happy to be paired with me.”

Jay took the now unoccupied seat beside you and sat with a force that made his robe flutter. The flash of green caught your eye, and you hesitantly pulled your books to your side, making room for his on the table.

“I’ll handle the mixing,” you replied, completely unrelated to his remark.

Jay frowned before letting out a soft chuckle. “Wow, I guess you really aren’t in the mood today.”

You turned your head only slightly enough to shoot daggers at him with your eyes, and his response was just a huff to his face, messing up the silver bangs on his forehead. The sound of Professor Snape’s voice caught your attention, so you straightened up and listened intently, but also noticed how Jay was mimicking you. Once you were all instructed to begin, Jay grabbed his quill and started making notes for the recipe.

For the first couple of minutes, the process went well. You were mixing and adding stuff according to Jay’s dictation. However, after he misread the measurements for a certain ingredient, causing your brew to bubble uncontrollably, you began scolding him and blaming him for everything.

“What’s distracting you? How could you have misread that?” You half-shouted, a handkerchief in your hand as you attempted to clean up your surroundings.

“Maybe if you weren’t shaking so much when you’re holding the vials then I could have paid more attention,” Jay retorted, snatching a vial from your other hand to prevent more spills. “We should switch. You tell me what to do and I’ll redo everything.”

“That will take us even longer, and everyone else is already halfway done,” you complained as you looked around the class. You saw Professor Snape eyeing your table.

“Do you have another solution?” Jay asked, staring back at you.

You reluctantly agreed to switch tasks, but it turned out that Jay was worse than you. He kept spilling liquid, pouring more than needed, and overall causing more chaos than when he was just giving you instructions. Your grunts and groans were starting to gain the attention of the whole classroom, and by the time you were almost done, the bell rang.

The sound of your quill hitting your book was silenced by the footsteps of the other students exiting the classroom. They had finished their potions, and your table was literally the only one in the room that was still messy, with a mixture that looked too suspicious to be called a potion.

“I have been patient enough to let you two bicker the whole time, but for you to not finish making your potions,” Professor Snape said as he walked back to his desk, his cape almost floating behind him.

“Great, he’s gonna put us in detention,” you muttered to yourself.

“That is correct, Miss L/N,” Professor Snape continued. “Once you’re both done cleaning up your table, meet me in my office.”

The frown you wore on your face was so bad that anybody who saw you could easily tell that you were pissed, but between gathering the books and papers and wiping off spills with a cloth, you could have sworn you saw Jay smirking to himself.

---

As you placed a bucket of water in the middle of the Prefects’ bathroom, you sighed at the exhaustion that you felt despite not having even started your detention. You and Jay were both assigned to clean up the bathroom, which, despite only being restricted to use by the school Prefects, Head Boys, Head Girls, and Quidditch captains, was in an alarmingly grimy state.

You purposefully steered away from the side of the room with the toilet stalls and stood by the large, swimming pool-like tub sunken into the ground with bath taps surrounding it. The tub was drained, and you much preferred scrubbing it to cleaning all the toilets.

Jay was standing by the bath supplies on one side of the pool, staring at the different kinds of soap, bath oils, bath salts, shampoo, and conditioner. It took a while for him to realize you were glaring at him, basically waiting for him to start working already.

“Damn, it would be worth becoming a Prefect just to be able to use this bathroom,” Jay muttered, placing a small bottle of bath oil back in its place. “You must take baths all the time.”

You snorted, audible enough to make it echo throughout the whole room. “I don’t have time for baths.”

“Really? What a shame,” Jay sighed, rolling up his sleeves. “How long do you think it would take for us to finish?”

“If you keep using your mouth instead of your hands, probably a lot longer than I expect,” you replied without a pause, sounding annoyed.

Your snarky remarks did not bother Jay at all. In fact, it amused him, and the way he was laughing softly was not helping at all. He walked over to the stalls and finally began to work only minutes after you started.

“Today is really not your day, huh?” Jay’s voice echoed behind the stalls.

“Thanks to you, it’s not,” you answered, polishing one of the hundred golden bath taps that surrounded the tub.

“You know,” Jay started, only to pause to flush the toilet so he wouldn’t have to compete with the sound. “I have a feeling that you don’t like me.”

You rolled your eyes and moved your bucket to polish the other bath taps. Jay cleared his throat as he waited for your reply.

“Is it because I’m a Slytherin?” He asked. “I mean, it’s kinda unfair that just because I’m in this House, you automatically hate me—”

“I don’t hate you,” you finally responded. “Hate is a strong word.”

“Alright then,” Jay walked out of one stall and looked in your direction before entering the next stall. “So, what’s the story?”

You let out a heavy sigh and wrung out the cloth you were holding. It was a long story, you thought to yourself. You came from a family of Slytherins—both your parents and your older brother were—but since you were old enough to understand and remember things, you had always been the odd one out in your family. They would excel academically and go on to achieve things you never even dreamed of. Your interests were always different, and what got you far at school was thanks to your personality and smart work.

It was still a vivid memory to you, the moment you sat down and let the Sorting Hat analyze you. You thought you would hear a confident ‘Slytherin!’ from the Hat, but after a couple of seconds of deciding, it placed you in Gryffindor. Switching houses was never a thing, so you did what you could and made good friends, studied hard enough to make the professors notice you, and eventually, you earned the title of Prefect as you entered the fifth year.

Despite that, throughout the years in Hogwarts, you kept hearing and witnessing stories about Slytherins, how they always happen to achieve so much but at the same time are notoriously problematic. The house you once dreamed of being a part of quickly became one that you were relieved to be excluded from, but somehow, the longing remains.

Around your third year in Hogwarts, you began hearing chatter about Park Jongseong. He became popular, it seemed, after he was assigned to be the Keeper of Slytherin’s Quidditch team, and also after he had an insane glow-up. You then noticed that he was the quiet nerd who used to bury his nose in whatever book he was reading in a dark corner in the library, but since then, he had ditched his glasses and styled his luscious silver locks in a way that—

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Jay’s voice woke you up from your extensive daydreaming, and it made you realize you were polishing one bath tap for way too long.

“How long were you polishing that tap?” Jay asked, tilting his chin towards your hand.

His question spooked you, and you were beginning to think he might have heard your thoughts. You cleared your throat before moving to the next tap. “Not long, why?”

“Because I’m done with all the toilet stalls, and I noticed you haven’t moved an inch.”

Well, that’s embarrassing, you thought. How long exactly did you zone out for?

“Should I start cleaning the pool’s floor then?” He asked, fixing his folded sleeves before squatting down and then jumping into the empty pool.

“Sure,” you said, immediately picking up your pace and trying your best not to steal any more glances in his direction.

“Listen,” Jay began, both his hands firmly holding a mop. “You got really silent after I asked a question, so I’m sorry that I made you uncomfortable. We can continue to work in silence if that’s what you prefer.”

You smiled as you moved on to the next tap. “It’s fine. I was just tired.”

You refocused on your own task, determined to leave the bathroom spotless, but after a moment, you noticed Jay moving oddly around the pool floor, dragging his mop in a way that was not normal. When you lifted your head to look at him, you saw that he was singing, no, lip-syncing a song and using the mop as a mic stand, completely immersed in his imagination but being considerate not to bother you with noise.

At this sight, you burst out laughing. Jay stood up straight and turned his heel to face you, looking surprised.

“Please,” you said after you contained yourself, “do continue.”

“Miss Prefect,” Jay sighed, “this bathroom is way too huge for only two of us to clean. Do you think we can sneak out and get our wands from Snape’s office?”

You shook your head. “The door is locked with a password.”

“But you’re Miss Prefect,” Jay said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t you know the password?”

“He literally changed it after leaving us here with these cleaning supplies, Jay. I don’t know the new password.”

Jay paused and for a moment you thought he was figuring out a way to escape, when in reality, his stomach just did a backflip from the way his name rolled off your tongue.

“So, what you’re saying is there is literally no way to get out of this bathroom unless we finish cleaning it?” Jay asked.

“That is the point of detention, yes,” you replied, shrugging.

Jay groaned and turned around, pushing his mop and reluctantly continuing to clean the pool floor. You were almost halfway done with polishing all the bath taps, and you sighed as you looked at all the mirrors waiting to be scrubbed clean too.

After a while, Jay finished scrubbing the floors, and you began to wonder if you should have taken his work instead since the bath taps seemed like a never-ending task to complete. He loosened the tie around his neck and undid the first few buttons on his shirt, making you quickly look away.

“Should I help you with the bath taps or start doing the mirrors?” Jay walked over to your side before pushing himself up the edge and then standing up, towering over you.

“Mirrors, please,” you answered, this time tilting your chin to point at the direction of the sinks.

“Really? Because you seem like you’re taking your sweet time polishing all those taps,” Jay said, tilting his head to one side.

You looked up at him and he had this teasing, lop-sided smirk. Meanwhile, the unintentional doe eyes you were giving him made him almost choke on his own saliva.

“Just do the mirrors, Jay.”

You saw him smile the second you finished your sentence, and when he turned his back to you, it somehow looked like his shoulders were happy. He stood in front of the sink and did a quick count on the number of mirrors he had to clean. You saw him start from the far left, where one of the mirrors was cracked on the edge.

“Be careful with that one. Ravenclaw’s Head Girl almost—”

“Fuck!”

You heard Jay groan as he stumbled a few steps back, wincing in pain and shaking his left hand.

“Jay,” you sighed, standing up and throwing the cloth you were holding to the floor. “I didn’t even finish my sentence.”

You walked up to him and stood before him with your hand out. He looked at you questionably before lifting his left hand for you to take a look.

“Is it bad?” He asked, slightly looking away. “I don’t like the sight of blood.”

“That explains a lot,” you muttered, placing your hand carefully over his. “Oh, my God.”

“What? What is it?” Jay asked, his right hand shaking in panic.

“Your fingers are so thick and stubby, like cocktail sausages.”

Jay snorted before pulling his hand away and you giggled.

“It’s just a scratch,” you said in an attempt to calm him down. “You can carry on.”

“Well, do you have something I can use to treat it?” Jay asked.

You were already sitting by the edge of the pool to continue with your polishing. “Do I look like a walking first aid kit to you? Just spit on it and move on.”

Jay looked at you, unsure of your advice. He then turned around and decided to wash his hands with soap. The suds obviously stung, so he was flinching and wincing quietly, but he could see you giggling silently from your reflection in the mirror in front of him.

“Do you really mean it?” Jay spoke, looking at you through the mirror.

“Mean what?”

“That I have stubby fingers,” Jay clarified.

You were unsure what to make of his tone. He sounded curious but also hurt, or maybe…

“So what if you do?” You asked back, not paying attention to him.

The strands of your hair were becoming loose and covering your eyes, and you were dying to fix the scrunchie on your ponytail, but both your hands were wet and occupied with polishing. You kept huffing and puffing and even attempting to move your hair using the movements of your shoulders until Jay sneaked up behind you and tapped you on your arm.

“Here, allow me,” Jay said calmly, tugging on your scrunchie.

You sat up straight and let him pull your scrunchie off, letting your hair cascade to your back. He began brushing your hair with his fingers before gently bunching it into a ponytail. He skillfully tied your hair up into a bun that was less messy than before. You were about to thank him, but he moved from behind you and jumped back into the empty pool, standing in front of you and tucking the loose strands of hair behind both your ears.

His fingers brushed against your ear, and for a moment, you were lost in his eyes. The next thing you felt was his hand behind your neck, pulling you closer as he stood in between your legs, his lips crashing against yours. You sighed as you let yourself be enveloped in his warmth—his tongue tugging yours, his lips devouring yours, his palms pushing against your back, and his breath mixing up with yours.

You felt his hand travel lower down your back, settling on your ass before he pushed you closer to him, earning a soft yelp from between your lips. His mouth detached from yours only to give you a sly smirk before he dove back into you. Your hands rested comfortably on his shoulders as you gave into his every move, and when you felt one of his hands grazing the exposed skin of your thigh from the gap between your skirt and your knee-high socks, you gasped.

“Wanna see what these fingers can do?” Jay asked, speaking right against your lips.

Your eyes searched for his before you nodded a little too eagerly. He chuckled before sliding his hand between your legs and under your skirt. His fingers easily found their place on your clothed cunt, and despite his gentle moves, you could not hold in your moans.

“Jay,” you whimpered, hands bunching up his shirt.

“Oh, I like it when you say my name like that,” he teased, leaving a wet peck on your chin. “Can you say it again?”

He pressed his thumb on your clit before sliding it down your folds, and he could already tell that you were soaked. You were biting your lip, and he chuckled, bringing the same hand that was caressing you up and towards your chin.

“Come on, now,” Jay cooed. “Prefects are usually good students. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?”

His thumb slid upon your bottom lip, and you could almost sniff the scent of your own arousal. You were trembling at this point, desperate to feel more of him, so all you could give as a response was a nod.

“Say my name.”

“Jay—”

Your voice was muffled as he slid in a finger when you opened your mouth. You instinctively sucked on it before he entered another one, and then he hurriedly placed his hand back between your legs, pushing your panties to the side before easily sliding those two fingers inside of you.

“Jay!” You moaned loudly, spreading your legs wider so he could do whatever he wanted to do to you comfortably. Your fingers reached for the back of his head, pulling on his silver locks before you pushed his head to your neck. He began licking the soft skin under your chin before placing wet kisses down your neck. With one hand, you unbuttoned your top and pulled your collar open, giving him more access to your skin. He sucked on your collarbone softly and, at the same time, curled his fingers inside of you.

You repeatedly moaned into his ear, and at some point, you thought you sounded way too pathetic, but the way Jay was thrusting his fingers in and out of you and the way the squelching sound was echoing throughout the whole bathroom made you believe that the sounds you were making were actually quite tame.

“Jay,” you sighed. “Oh, my God.”

Jay lifted his head from your neck and flashed you a proud smirk before leaning in to kiss you again. You whined at the contact, and as your hands found his face, you began to caress him, pull him, and do whatever was necessary to send the message that you wanted him bad.

You felt the increasing pace of his fingers between your legs, and you began to feel the ache in your ass for sitting on the edge of the pool for too long. Jay pressed his thumb on your clit, and you threw your head back in pleasure, grabbing onto his biceps for support. When your moans started to sound higher and more in sync with the movements of his fingers, Jay leaned in and pressed his cheek onto yours before speaking right into your ear.

“Cum for me, will you?”

The deep tone and gentle vibration of his voice sent shivers down your spine, and with that, you finally reached your high. Your legs were shaking, and to soothe you, Jay began kissing your cheek softly. He kept kissing you and moving towards your lips, giving you a long peck before moving down to your chin and neck. He kissed the parts of your skin that were beginning to turn purple, and once he heard your leveled breathing, he pulled away to take a good look at you.

“Good girl,” he said right to your face.

You playfully, and very gently, slapped his face. He let out a wholehearted chuckle before pulling his hand from between your legs. Just seconds later, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching the bathroom door. Your eyes widened, and Jay quickly registered the situation. He fixed your collar for you to button up before he sprinted back to the mirror he was supposed to be polishing while you frantically searched for the abandoned cloth that you had been using the whole time.

“Why am I not surprised that you haven’t finished cleaning the bathroom?” Professor Snape stated after scanning the area. “It’s almost curfew, so wrap up and continue cleaning tomorrow. I’ll consider your detention done once this place is spotless.”

You stood up and observed as Professor Snape reached into the pocket in his robe and took out your wands. After he handed them over to you and Jay, he turned around without further question and left the bathroom. Jay looked at you, and you sighed in relief, almost collapsing to the floor because of your weak knees, if not for Jay holding you up by your elbows.

“That was too damn close,” you commented, standing uncomfortably since your panties were not fixed the right way.

“I’d say it was exciting,” Jay said, leaning into you and sniffing your neck.

“Jay, stop it,” you said, placing your palm firmly on his chest.

“That’s not what you wanted me to do when I had these stubby fingers inside you,” he teased, raising his hand and wriggling his fingers in front of your face.

You smacked his hand away, and he cackled, almost making the room shake from the echo.

“We still need to come back tomorrow and whose fault is that?” You asked, your back turned to him as you were tidying up the supplies.

“Fault?” Jay tilted his head. “No, favor. You’re missing the point. We get to come back here tomorrow.”

You stood up straight before turning to face Jay. He boldly took a couple of steps towards you, closing the distance and pulling you by your waist to press your body against his.

“Are you honestly telling me you’re not looking forward to it?”

With Jay’s arm firmly around your waist, the heat of his body against yours, his eyes boring into yours, and his silver hair messy from the way you were pulling on it earlier, there was no way you could lie to his face.

“Okay, I am looking forward to it,” you said after gaining enough courage. “Maybe instead of your stubby fingers, you can show me something else.”

Jay’s eyes twinkled at your daring tone, and you both chuckled before letting each other go, nagging at him as he collected your supplies while shamelessly ogling your body.

-END-

© forjongseong 2023, all rights reserved dividers by @cafekitsune

back to masterlist // back to navigation

!!! do NOT copy, translate, or repost any of my work to your blog or ANY other platform.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

For a request:

Maybe a rescue fic with ghost, price, or soap? One where they rescue their non military fem s/o? I know you’ve written some already and they are so good but I EAT THEM UP EVERY TIME and love that trope so much!!!!!!

Hurt/comfort is my drug I swear

I know that’s pretty vague so maybe I’ll think of more eventually but that’s what I’ve got for now.

I love your writing!

- 🧚🏻‍♀️🧚🏻‍♀️

None Lacking Sins

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Synopsis: It started with the incident at the grocery store and then built to the hidden gun in the nightstand and a quick, frantic, call to your boyfriend.

Word Count: 7.4k

Warnings: Implied stalking, violence & blood, angst, protective Soap, suggestive language and conversations, implications of wanting a kid, vulgar language, fluffy banter, hurt/comfort, canon typical actions, edited in the middle of the night

A/N: I've been in a Soap mood lately, tbh. I think I'm going to flip-flop uploads for my Gaz series and Requests too...anyways. Enjoy, anon! You can never go wrong with a rescue fic!

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*  

You called him for the first time when you were at the store, picking out dinner and asking what he wanted for a welcome home meal.

“Well,” his sly voice made you roll your eyes, but a smile still blossomed over your lips. “If you want me to be rash, Bonnie, I’d say that I wouldn't mind a good bite out of your–”

“Johnny, you finish that sentence, you’re not going to get anything besides butter on toast. Give me a recipe before it gets dark out.” Veiled glee was obvious from your tone, and the heat on your face could all but be heard over the line. Two months apart had made you both eager to be in each other's presence. 

Picking up a box of pasta, you flip it over and check the price, sticking to your budget and tilting the phone parallel to your chin. A deep chuckle meets your ears, and your chest feels light as it pierces your lungs. 

Your boyfriend was off in Australia this deployment—he’d been complaining about the heat nonstop on those few and far between video calls the two of you shared. While it was a step-up to know where exactly Johnny was this go around, the prospect of his job still made you incredibly nervous. There was never a time you could remember when he came home without a new cut or scar; bruises were all but guaranteed. 

Sucking down a soothing breath, you place the pasta into your cart and fix the phone’s position. The Scot was coming home in a day or so, you wanted to make him feel at home again. Destress.

You’ll see him before you know it. There’s no need to worry.

“Bit snappy, then, eh? Oh, alright.” The man huffs good-heartedly, and you hear the springs of those thin barracks-bed mattresses as his large frame shifts. Johnny lets off a soft sigh before continuing. You listen intently, leaning onto the handlebar ahead of you. “What about a nice plate ‘O that one you always make—hell—the…the one with the Pollock and cabbage.”

You blink through a laugh, shaking your head and pushing yourself off to go find the needed ingredients. The dish wasn’t easy to make, in fact, it took a helluva lot of time, but you didn’t mind in the slightest when it came to cooking for Johnny. He deserved it. 

“Hey, now,” He teases, smirking to himself, “What’s so funny over there, Dearie? You makin’ fun of me?”

“I would never dream of it, oh great and wondrous, Mr. MacTavish!” You huff, fake serious, as you place a box of cookies into the cart and pass a few strangers who raise an eyebrow at your conversation. A man passes by with a blue cap on, and you swerve the cart to move around him while tossing back a frown. You soon continue on like nothing happened, pulling back the sense of security from the man over the line. “Do you want mashed potatoes with that as well? Wine?”

Johnny groans, “Hey, you’re the one that asked me!” 

Divulging into giggles, you make your way around the store and stock up, holding a light conversation about how he and the rest of the boys were doing. 

“Ghost told me to let you know he appreciated the book you lent him, said he’d get it back to ya as soon as he’s able.” The Scot comments, and a hum makes its way from you as you head to the self-checkout. 

“Well, that’s good. I said he would like it – the bastard’s so tight-lipped about what he enjoys it was hard to nail-down a genre.” A chortle sounds off when you gather the chilled pollock and scan it; the phone was held against your shoulder to your ear. “High Fantasy for the win, I guess.” 

“I should get the man to read ‘The Way of Kings’ next time—form a little book club, y’know? Get all the boys in on it like some old ladies.” It was adorable how cute Johnny sounded, like a kid on Christmas. “Stemin’ Jesus, could you picture that, Bonnie?”

“I’d pay to see you pitch that, Dear.” A cheeky tone leaks through. “Price would laugh straight into your face.” 

“Please, the old man doesn’t know how to laugh….He’d just puff cigar smoke in my face and tell me to fuck off.” 

“As I said—I’d pay to see it.” Your boyfriend grumbles under his breath as you place the paper bags into your cart, the contents heavy, and grab your receipt with quick fingers. “Gaz would definitely be in for it, though.”

“I don’t doubt that. Anything beats playing cards for weeks straight, aye?” Your hand can finally grip the phone once more, and you sigh contently as the strained position of your neck finally rights itself. 

You’re about to answer but slow your pace with a scrunched look of confusion as you exit. 

Passing through the front doors, you suddenly get a strange sensation in the back of your mind to turn around. The hairs along your arms stand up as a breeze passes the steadily chilling dark sky, but the way the shiver ran down your spine wasn’t due to cold. Lips thinning, you spare a glance over your shoulder and look along the brightly lit grocery store as its windows leave cascading rays of light over the sun-bleached concrete. The black asphalt of the parking lot is hard under your feet.

There are a handful of other patrons at the checkouts—mothers with children and others buying quick meals for dinner—but none are out of the ordinary. 

You huff and roll your shoulders.

Maybe the day’s just getting to me.

“Bonnie,” Johnny’s slightly concerned voice brings you blinking back, turning your head back to the sparsely lit parking lot and realizing you had stopped walking completely. Your hand was sweaty like you’d just run somewhere. Fixing your hold on the device, your boyfriend continues, “...Everything alright? You’ve gone all quiet over there.”

“Yeah, sorry,” you laugh dismissively, trudging forward to your car, “I just got the weirdest feeling right outside the grocery store.” 

The cart makes a loud rumbling sound as it goes over loose rocks and the bumpy texture of the asphalt, the metal rattling loudly so you have to strain your ears to hear Johnny’s next words. 

“What kind of feeling?” His drowned-out voice was so serious that it shocked you—you’d only ever heard him use a tone like this when he had briefly talked about nightmares that had woken him up in your shared bed. 

The Scot’s words were monotone, slow, and even if the sound of the cart’s wheels was raging all around you and making your skull rattle, you’d still swear you would identify that tone over a hurricane. It made your gut churn. 

“Really, it’s probably nothing,” you play off with a tense shrug he can’t see, coming to a stop at your car and reaching into your pocket for your keys. “I just got a chill.” 

Your eyes look around before you open the trunk, biting into your lip at the long shadows that the tall street lamps give off. Licking over your teeth, you bink dismissively and shake your head, unlocking the vehicle and huffing as you begin loading in your purchases. 

“Anyways,” you try to ignore the hard build of your spine or the way your eyes travel back to the brightly lit store. There wasn’t anyone out here but you and the dead forms of cars, trees off in the distance, and far-off lights of other buildings. You swallow and clear your throat. “I was thinking about getting us a dog.” 

“You’re not gettin’ out of this that—wait, did you say dog?” Across the world in a shitty bed, Johnny’s once concerned eyes widen, jaw going slack. “No way in Christ’s Hell, Dearie.”

“Oh, come on!” You groan, placing the second to last bag into the car and tuning your back to the street, throwing out your hand. “It doesn’t have to be a big dog—just one I can go on walks with and keep me company. I know you have a bad past with them, Love, but I just want someone to help not make the house so empty when you’re gone.” 

Your voice slides off near the end of the sentence, and you try not to sound so sullen. Johnny frowns as he stares into the far wall of the barracks over the heads of sleeping men, itching at the back of his neck. It was no secret that the Scot wasn’t particularly fond of canines—his encounters with them were almost never pleasant unless he knew the handler. 

But…

“I’ll think it over, eh, Bonnie?” He relents, sighing, and he thinks he hears snickers from a dark form in the distant corner. The Sergeant glares over at it and continues with a pang of internal guilt about how lonely you must feel most of the time. “Promise…but you’re more likely to get a cat dressed in a suit than a mangy mutt anytime soon.” 

You laugh at the attempt of a lighthearted joke, closing the trunk with a roll of your eyes. A breeze goes by and your arms erupt into shivers, clothes not enough to keep out the chill. 

“I’ll take it.” 

“Hm, you know,” Johnny smirks, rubbing at the sleep in his eyes and grunting out huskily, “there’s another way to make sure the house won’t be all quiet when I’m gone.”

“Keep it in your pants, MacTavish. You’re not even here yet.” Smiling through the heat of your cheeks, the skin of your cheeks glows; your body rolls with heat. “Save it for tomorrow.”

“What, am I gettin’ you all worked up over there?” He hums, and you grab your cart, pushing it into one of the specific areas where someone would grab it in the morning. “‘Cause I have no problem with waitin’, Dearie, all the more perfect when I get to be with ya.’”

“You wish, handsome.” Walking back to the slight rumbling of your car, you speak through tilted lips and completely miss the form walking up beside you. “I think that—”

“Excuse me?” 

Yelping, you nearly drop your phone to the floor as it slips out of your startled grip; heart jerking at the sudden intrusion into an intimate conversation. Swiftly turning around you spot the same man as before—the one with the blue cap that had passed by quite rudely in the store. His strong face looks sheepish.

Johnny quickly calls your name through the line, and you let off a reassurance before tilting the device down.

“Holy hell, man, give a girl a warning next time, yeah?” Chuckling weakly to push back tension and the twisting of your intestines, you notice the stranger’s tall frame is covered in a heavy jacket. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Yeah, actually,” He’s not outwardly alarming to look at, the man, with his loose body gestures and controlled tone. “Sorry, but I was just wondering if you could lend me a hand. I found a kitten under a van back there,” he points, and you look over to the far corner of the parking lot. Sure enough, there was a large van surrounded by two black cars. Your eyes narrow on the scene, already getting a prickly feeling. “Do you have any food that might bring it out? Or maybe you’d be willing to reach under and grab the little bastard?” 

The stranger laughs and continues with a jerking of his shoulders. You watch every movement with an upticking pulse, fingers tight over the phone as Johnny listens with growing worry. 

The Sergeant's dark eyebrows pull tight, and he stands like he could run out the door to you; jaw tight and muscles wound.

“Put me on speaker.” You decline silently. Better not to get a hotheaded and protective Scot involved when he was thousands of miles away.

“Sorry,” Clearing your throat, you take a step back, attempting a friendly smile. “I have to get home to my husband.” It wasn’t the first time you’d had to use the spouse card to get away from creeps, and it won't be the last. Worked better than just the boyfriend title, honestly. And there was something about this man’s eyes that didn’t sit right with you. “Work night and all, you understand?”

“He left yet?” Johnny asks, gruff as his accent gets stronger. “Else I’m callin’ the store and sending security out to you.” 

“It shouldn’t take a long time,” the man begs and you take another slow step back to the car door, pupils going tiny. Breaths shallow. “You’ll be back to your…husband, in a few minutes. I’d hate to leave the poor guy all alone.” 

“Sorry.” You say again, firmer. “No.” 

Not wasting any time, you open the car and jump inside, wrenching it closed once more and pressing the lock. Breathing heavily, you stick the keys into the ignition, missing a couple of times, and look into the side mirrors to spy on the tall shadow that hovers like a plague. 

“Sweetheart? Hey?” Johnny calls out your name as you force the car to start driving away, face tight and limbs shaking. “Hey, are you alright?” 

The man has half the sense to wake up Price, but with the stirring bodies around him, there’s half a chance the Captain already knows something’s off. Johnny hadn’t bothered to check his noise level when the uncomfortableness seeped from you over to him. What kind of a man approaches a woman near dark and asks a question like that? The action didn’t sit right with the Scot. 

Johnny’s body hums with energy—volatile rage keeps his heart in a tight fist with a deep seething hatred of not being with you to help force back the freaks in person. He wasn’t above getting into someone's face if the situation called for it; after a couple of outings to less-than-nice pubs, all it took was a few nervous glances from you nowadays for him to create a barrier out of his own flesh.

“I’m okay,” you whisper to him, biting at your lips and peeling back flesh. “It’s all good. I-I’m on the road already.” 

A great weight falls from the man in the form of a sigh. He slowly sits back down on the mattress, lips thinning and slightly shaking his head. His free hand comes up to rub over his cheek. 

“Good. That’s good…” He snaps out of his concerned stupor quickly, but the fast beating of his heart does anything but slow. “You’re okay.” 

It wasn’t worded as a question, maybe more of a reassurance, but it helped you immensely. Your tension lessened at the comforting sound of Scottish drawl and deep, silver, voice. But you wanted him to wrap his arms around you; gaze into those cerulean orbs.

Tomorrow.

“Keep on the line until I get home?” You ask feebly, not able to resist looking in the mirrors as you turn out of the parking lot. 

The blue-capped stranger was still standing there, and one of the black cars in the far corner had turned its headlights on. A deep dread overtakes your ribs like you’d just gotten out of something very, very, bad. A sense of a lingering morality stays in between your ribs.

“‘Course. Wouldn’t be doin’ anything else, Bonnie.” Johnny utters, glaring at the floor. “I’ll be ‘ere the whole time.”

It wasn’t fair that he was unable to be there with you—never before had the constraints from his job hit him full strength in the chest like this. If he can’t protect the ones he loves back on the home field, then what was the point of the Task Force in the first place? 

By the time you get home after taking the fastest route, you quickly gather everything from the back and shuffle inside, pulse still racing. You lock the door behind you and take a deep breath, closing your eyes. 

Johnny’s soft breath over the call was like a lullaby, right in your ear as if he was beside you in bed. Oh, you missed his soft snores more than anything. Your gaze goes glossy, but the tears are held back stubbornly. 

As if sensing your turmoil, your boyfriend speaks lowly. 

“Y’know, I bet the rest of the boys would really love it if we kept ‘em over for a drink and a bite when we all get back. I can whip up something quick on the grill and you can take a breather, eh?” He speaks so softly it almost makes the tears worse, heart palpitating. 

You wetly laugh and place a hand to your mouth, standing in the dark foyer with groceries on the floor and a primal fear slowly leaving you. The familiar scents of charcoal and birch wood from the Scots hair product are stuck into the very walls of this shared dwelling, along with the scuffs on the floor from play-wrestling during movies; a light that needed to be replaced due to Johnny accidentally running straight into it at two am. He had thought an intruder had broken in, but it was just a bird that had snuck in through an open window.

The signs of a well-lived and loved home. 

“But you wanted pollock,” you grumble with a hidden smile and burning ears, pushing the tip of your shoe into the front rug.

Johnny beams and goes to lie back down, putting a hand behind his head against the pillow.

“Well, now I’m makin’ burgers. Guess you’re just going to have to sit back and watch my fabulous arse from the porch, yeah, Dearie? Don’t burn a hole into them, now, they’re the only pair I’ve got, and I know how much you like ‘em.”

“Shut up.” 

“I’ll even wear that apron you got me—what was it you said it did,” the cheeky Scot smirks, all teeth and crinkled eyelids, and hears your complaints get louder as your mind flies away from what had happened almost immediately. “Made me look like I should be in a porno? Hell, if you were in it with me, I’d not complain ‘bout it. Steamin’ Jesus, I’d let you do horrible things to me, Dearie.”

From somewhere in the barracks a low groan echoes out and Johnny snaps his hand down to stifle his loud laughter as you bark at him. 

“MacTavish!” 

Great bouts of laughter leave everyone glaring from atop pillows and from over fingers stuffed into ears; some even get up and gather blankets, leaving the barracks room entirely.

In your foyer, your body blazes with heat like you’d been set on fire, a hand placed over your eyes and a treacherous grin on your mouth. 

“Keep your voice down, you absolute arsepiece!”

“Aye—! That’s what I’m tryin’ to tell ya!” 

“Johnny!”

—

The second time you called him was out of pure curiosity, only a few hours before your lover was scheduled to come home and cook for you and his Task Force. Around six o'clock. 

“When was our postbox all scratched up?” Your thumb runs over the black numbers of the sequence, blinking with wrinkled skin as you take a glance at the neighbors’ and frown. No one else's was like that. “I thought you said you compromised with the local kids and would give them money for sweets so they would stop messing with our stuff?” 

“Little fiends were sucking me dry!” Johnny huffs, “No way the devils would pass up more sugar and do something like that. What’s it look like, then? A few stray rocks manage to dent it?”

Your lips release a sigh and you pick up your mail with an annoyed grunt, closing and locking the cubby as you reply. “No way, it looks like someone took a knife to it.” Clicking your tongue, you shake your head. “God, things have just been going wrong lately.”

Shuffling his feet over the tarmac and hearing the plane engines die down behind him, Johnny takes a glance back. Price was standing at the top of the C17 arms crossed and head tilted—the Scot could imagine the raised eyebrow almost immediately. 

He grimaces and holds up a finger, walking a few more steps away as Gaz leaves the hull with his bags slung over his shoulders. 

“I can’t talk any longer, Bonnie, Price’ll wring me for not helpin’ unload the gear. He’s damn near skinnin’ me already.”

You chuckle, “Tell him I said ‘hello’ and not to damage the face.” 

“Oh, you’re a horror, you are, Dearie.” 

Quick declarations of love and see you soons were exchanged before the connection was cut, and your feet carried you back into the house. Your phone and the mail went to sit on the tiny hallways table, shoes tossed onto the plastic mat sitting on the floor with a small thump. 

Sighing, you rub over your eyes, thinking over if it was worth calling the post office or just trying to fix the scratches yourself. 

“I think we have some paint in the garage…” You trail off. 

Ultimately, you just pushed that to the back burner. Johnny was coming home. Your lips peeled into a large smile, and you’re rushing off to get into a nice outfit for the rest of Task Force who was coming a bit later than your boyfriend. Thoughts of finally being able to be picked up by your boyfriend's strong arms were all-consuming, being held into a broad chest and digging your nails to the dip of his spine. 

Just being able to be around the mohawked-man was a blessing that you’d never take for granted. 

You settled on a nice top and casual pants—you’d met the others before, so there was no need to go overboard. Smoothing your clothes down, you enter the living room and go to open the curtains, letting the light of the interior spread to the small lawn and the street. Humming under your breath, the vehicle outside doesn’t catch your attention immediately; the black metal is just another parked entity sitting still. 

When you do pause, your curtains half-opened, the delayed shock makes you lose precious time as you stare slack-jawed at one of the twin cars from yesterday at the parking lot. Your fingers clench into the fabric in a sudden moment of frozen shock. As if a mythical creature had just run past your field of view, the parting of your lips is instinctual before the widening of your eyes. 

A still second passes before you’re sprinting to the front door—locking it and snatching your phone. Heart pounding, you make a dash to the bedroom, dialing Johnny with fear-tight pupils. 

He had told you if there was ever an emergency to call him right away, he’d get there faster than any police officer; for the record, you believed that wholeheartedly. Johnny was more loyal than a dog in a pack, once someone raised the alarm the Sergeant was locked in. 

Rushing into the bedroom, you trip over the tossed covers but right yourself as the dialing tone sounds out, heavy breathing making your lungs hurt. You open the nightstand table and dig under a collection of books, hand meeting the smooth metal of an M9 pistol. 

Putting the phone on speaker, you throw it onto the mattress.

Legally, you shouldn’t even have this—while Johnny had been teaching you to shoot, you didn’t have a license for it yet. But he’d insisted on leaving you behind with something to defend yourself with.

The confused voice of your lover sounds over the open space. “Jesus, Bonnie, you miss me that much? It cannae ‘ave been more than ten minutes—”

“The car from yesterday is outside the house.” You throw the books to the floor and hear them make a clatter just as you pull out a box of ammunition. Taking out the gun’s magazine, you load bullets with a violently shaking hand. Some hit the ground with a metallic ping, but you pay little attention, just blinking back anxious tears and a harsh focus on the sounds of the front door handle being jimmied.

“I…what?” Johnny’s voice gets heavier, demanding with a snarl trapped in the back of his throat. 

Standing stationary in the doorway Base—about a twenty-minute drive from home, the man’s heart suddenly jumps in his breast. Did he hear you right? Behind him, Ghost slows to a stop at the now blocked opening, watching with narrowed eyes; a large rifle slung over his shoulder and a carry bag in his arm. Johnny’s shoulders wind tight, feet parted as he suddenly turns on his heels and takes off back the way he came in, the phone still at his ear where the Lieutenant knew you were on the call.

“What the fuck?!” Ghost’s skeletal head follows after and pointedly notices the Scots lack of care for how his bags hit the ground but keeps the pistol holstered at his thigh and the combat knife strapped to his upper shoulder. 

“Johnny?” He calls out, but only the wind answers him. “The hell are you off to?!” The gargantuan man sends a glance over to Price who was watching just as intently, lids narrowed. Gaz cleared his throat.

“....Shouldn’t we follow him? Sounds pretty serious.” 

Price sighs, taking a moment to watch Soap sprint to the main building and shove past other soldiers and staff. He grunts.

“Move light.” 

The phone call was filled with heavy breathing and hurried orders. 

Your boyfriend was running you down the basics of firing at a moving target as the sound of pounding at the front door became more hurried.

“It’s not like a stationary target—when someone’s runnin’ at ya, they're gonna be moving quick and you’re not going to be able to fire if you don’t mean it!” 

“Okay, okay,” you mutter with a shaky inhalation, loading the M9’s magazine and clicking off the safety. “What the hell do they want with me?” The whispered question is more for you than it is for anyone else, but the answer from the sprinting Scot startles you. 

At that exact moment, the pounding of a fist stops completely.

“It doesn’t matter. You’re gonna fire at the first bastard that comes down that hallway. We’ll ask the questions later.” You hear a car door opening and a yell from Johnny’s side, soon the clammer of grunting breaths an exclamation of ‘hurry the fuck up!’

“I—”

“If you need to, leave through the window and go to the neighbors. Take cover in the foliage and slip away to the back alley.” Johnny never spoke like this to you—clipped and deathly serious. But now that you think about it, as you stay frozen and barricaded in the bedroom, if he spoke any differently you’d probably break down. “Do you copy?”

This was Sergeant MacTavish, and damn him if anything came between that man and the people he cared about. 

He barks your name, “Do you copy?!” 

“Yeah,” the gun shakes in your grip, but nonetheless you hold it at your hip and turn your eyes to the window. It would be easier to leave, you think. You’re not trained for this! “I–I think I’m going to—”

The front door’s window is broken with a shattering of glass. You rush to the phone and turn off the speaker, afraid that the sound would immediately tell these people where you were. Loud shouts flow into the foyer and spread like venom under the crack of the thin barrier separating you and the intruders. 

“Spread out and find her!”

“Yes, Sir!” 

Sir? You ask, eyes snapping this way and that as Johnny is dead silent on the other side. You think you hear the slam of a foot to the pedal, but you can’t be sure. Fuck, there was so much going on, you didn’t know what to do.

“Screw this, I’m going out the fucking window.” You gasp out, lungs tight and skin sweaty, you turn on the safety on the gun and stuff it into your belt. 

One-handed, you unlatch the lock and strain your ears, hearing feet getting closer. Grunting, you shove the heavy frame up and try to stop the ringing in your ears. Whoever these people in your house were—they were professionals. They had patience; studied your intellect with the trick in the parking lot and followed you home so they could mark your postbox number as a reminder of your address. What the hell was happening? 

Just as you’re about to make the small drop into the flower bed, a creak echoes from behind the bedroom door. You freeze in place, one foot dangling into the backyard. 

Breathing slowly, your eyes lock to the deep shadow that spreads like two distorted poles as the large feet face the very place you’d holed up. As delicately as you’re able with an award-setting tremor in your gut, you place the phone down onto the window sill; Johnny’s loud and worried voice dims as all attention moves to self-preservation. You’re just about to reach for your gun when the door busts off its hinges. 

Starling, and before your hands can find purchase, you’re tumbling backward—out of the house entirely with a stifled shout of alarm. Slamming to the ground and crushing flowers in the process, you have no time to think about the pain going up your spine or at the base of your skull before you’re scrambling for the M9. 

Just as someone peeks out from the window, face covered and holding an assault rifle, you’re firing three shots in rapid succession as you don’t even remember flicking off the safety. 

Two shots miss entirely, but on the last and final press of the trigger, as your arms catch the recoil, it connects. 

A comment is cut short as blood explodes in a great wave of velocity, coating the house upwards almost to the shingled roof. The body slumps, weight bringing it down to hang limp over the frame.

Wide-eyed, you still hold the shaking gun in the air, muzzle smoking, breathing fast through your mouth. Had you just…

Your stomach bunched, acid traveling up your throat to pool under your tongue. Perhaps you would have thrown up at that moment, the setting reality that you’d just shot someone in the head like an anvil in your pounding skull. But the barking voices from inside the house snap you back. 

Gasping down the breaths you realized you hadn’t been taking, your wobbly feet dart to shove you up like a newborn deer as sprinting bodies close in on the porch’s sliding door. God, you could only imagine what Johnny was thinking. 

Bolting out of your backyard fence, you remember your lover’s orders and run as fast as you’re able to the neighbor's open yard, using the darkening sky to help cover you. Cursing under your breath and thinking over all of the ways this should have already gone wrong, you wipe at the tears cascading down your cheeks. 

Don’t think about it—just get away.

It wasn’t long before you were down the alleyway, feet weak and lungs burning. There was a stickiness to the back of your scalp, blood, undoubtedly, from an injury caused by the fall.

It’s a damn miracle I didn’t break anything. 

What would you have done then? Just let those people take or kill you? You shiver at the idea and force yourself to go faster. Darting around a corner, your feet skid to a quick halt. 

The barrel of a gun was pointed directly at your face. 

“Had a feeling you’d be slippery.” It was the voice of the man from the parking lot—the man with the blue cap. Your face jerks to an imitation of confined horror and unease at the same eyes boring into you. He was dressed in gear like the rest of the men now exiting your house to hunt you down. The stranger shifts his feet and you flinch. “Drop the gun, Sweetheart.” 

“Who the fuck are you?” You find your voice, hissing out. The pistol clatters to the floor as it slips from your grip and you hate how you flinch at the sound. 

“Your boyfriend and his buddies are hard to track down.” Blue Cap huffs, and the tall stature of the man makes you incredibly nervous. Backing up a step instinctually, he follows and smirks. “But I figured the best way to meet him was to find his little bird first—he’d come right to me. Cliche, I know, but you can’t fault me. Works every time.” 

What did this guy want with your Johnny? Gritting your teeth, your fingers shake at your sides, hips tense and ready to run.

“He’ll kill you.” You level, not keen to show this man how disgusting you felt being near him. 

He shuffles up next to you, grabbing the meat of your arm. Trying to jerk away, the barrel of his weapon is shoved into your ribs; gasping, your body goes rigid.

If your heart goes any faster, it’ll break.

“Not if I threaten to kill you first.” Forcing you forward, you glare and feel the urge to spit in the man’s face. “C’mon, hun.”

“Don’t fucking call me that, freak.” 

“Ooo…fangs. Can’t be surprised, you did shoot one of my men, after all. Not a bad trigger finger, but you do need decent work on your accuracy if you wanna make anything out of it.” Your eyebrows pull in as you’re corralled back out of the alleyway, barrel bruising your skin and blood dripping down your neck. The man’s grip hurts as a strangled whimper falls from your bitten lips. 

Feet scraping over concrete, you’re brought out into the street as neighbors peak out of windows with drawn curtains; phones to their faces. Did these intruders not care about the police? If anything, that made you sweat more. 

“Ride’s waiting.” 

“I’m not getting into that.” Grunting, your eyes are stuck on the black void of the car parked in the street. A menagerie of other armed men stands all over. “Hell no—you can just shoot me now if that’s the case.”

“Don’t tempt me, I can still go after the Sergeant’s dear old mom,” your lungs chill as the man chuckles to himself, looking down at you through dark lashes. “He has a cousin, too, am I right?” 

Rageful tears spark behind your lids as you blink. 

No way it was going to go like this. Where’s Johnny? 

The gun was taken from your ribs as you’re shoved forward. 

“Get in. Now. We’re already behind schedule.” You stare into the interior and clench your fists, lips quivering but jaw clenched. Your Lover’s voice comes to you, sure of himself and laced with stubbornness. 

If you’re ever in trouble, you wait for me, Dearie. I’ll be there ‘fore you know it, ready to defend your honor like the knight in shinin’ armor I am, eh? Why are you laughing…?

Turning back around with every ounce of courage you can muster, you splay your feet and cross your arms.

“No.” The gun is raised to your head, and you want to flinch back in terror but restrain yourself. 

“Get in.” 

“No.” How your voice wasn’t breaking was a question in and of itself, but Johnny had always said you were stubborn like him. Best time to prove him right was with a barrel to your face, apparently.

The stranger’s eyes light with anger, hands clenching over the body of the weapon as the rest of his men stare on in shock. A growl meets air.

“I’m not asking for a third time, Sweetheart—” One loud boom later and you’re ducking down with your hands over your head, ears ringing and body unsteady; a great weight hits the ground right next to you.

The sound of gunfire rattles the world all around the once quiet street, and you think that you and your Lover will have to move after this. No way the neighbors could let all this slide. Looking up, your eyes jump from the corpse spasming near you to the running men, chaos breeding in the lines between shouts and dropping bodies. 

A hand latches into your waist, and you’re being lifted into strong arms moments later. Squealing, your head snaps to the size and meets cerulean blue inlaid in a strong brow line. 

“I’ve got ya.” Your body loses all tension at the accent that you would know anywhere, even in death, a strong grip picking you up and keeping you close to his broad chest. 

Johnny carries you away in the midst of battle as the rest of the 141 get involved, making quick work of the remaining men. Breathing in his scent, you force your face under his chin, feeling the stubble scrape as your fingers dig into flesh. 

He’s here. He’s—he’s right here.

“Don’t worry, Dearie, I’m right here. It’s nearly over, now.” You try to bring him closer as he takes cover behind a wall, pressing his shoulders against the grating stone as he shields you closer to him. Sliding down to the ground.

His eyes snap back and forth, heart rapid. God, he was nearly too late. Johnny presses his nose into your hair as he breathes deeply, watching bodies fall and feeling you shake. Feeling you shiver; now finally able to let everything sink in. 

“Shh,” the Scot mutters, pressing you closer as you whisper his name in a hoarse breath. “You’re alright. I’m ‘ere, Bonnie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” His hands filter over your skin, checking for injuries and feeling over growing bumps from under-the-skin abrasions.

His teeth clench together in hate, hotheadedness taking over for a moment as part of him wants to rush out and pick a few of these bastards off himself. But it’s just not that simple. 

Looking out into the street with serious eyes, the radio attached to his vest sounds off as the last of the firefight ends almost as quickly as it began. 

“Clear.” It was Price. “How is she?” 

Johnny sighs, looking down at you in his hold as he whispers comforting words in quick succession.

“Shaken, but alright…” The reply is muttered as you sniffle, your fingers going to wipe away tears. “She’s—she’s alright.”

Johnny beats you to it as he tries to calm down, large digits tilting your head to the side and studying intently as he swipes them away with a firm thumb and a careful frown. 

“Johnny—” Your eyes stay locked on him as the Scot gets rid of any trace of fear or sadness, calluses burning your skin just as they always did. His gaze flickers to you; lips pulling tight. None of you choose to move, too content with being this close to one another and safe, even if the situation was serious. “I…”

You trail, not even knowing what to say as the wetness of your eyes blurs your vision, body hot, and the back of your skull aching. Your hands go to cup his cheeks. It’s all the words he needs. 

Eyes soft, the Sergeant attempts a weak and worried smile. “I’m so proud of you, Dearie, y’know that? So damn proud.” Your lips quirk, a strained laugh echoing out. A finger pokes the side of your nose. “Hey, I’m serious now. Stop your foolin'.” 

Johnny’s fingers run deep circles into your temples as you trace the lines of his cheeks. 

“Shut up.” You huff, straining against a wide smile. It was easy to push all of this behind you when you were looking at him. He made everything better.

“Hm,” He moves forward and presses his lips to your forehead, quickly going to lay kisses all over your face until giggles spill out from the alleyway to the waiting three. 

Gaz smiles to himself, Price grunts lightly, and Ghost gazes off. 

“I’ll just have to prove to my Bonnie Little Lady that she’s a prime piece of work, then, eh? Smarter; more quick than a fuckin’ recon team,” he leans close and you have to try and shove him away playfully when he starts to squish you against him. Your laughter grows as his scratchy chin nuzzles your neck. “And don’t mind me sayin’ now, but a proper fine pair of tits and arse to go along with the brains of ya, Dearie.”

“MacTavish!” you squeal, “I should call your mother up and explain how you speak to me—that’s vulgar! I know for a fact she didn’t teach you that.”

“Teach me? Oh, now, then, no one could teach me a thing when you’re around. Cannae think a bit; better off talkin’ to a pile of stone.” You punch his solid chest and laugh so hard your face hurts, breath fanning against his neck as his roaming praise continues as if his mind was a bag of water punctured by a knife. “I’m always thinkin’ ‘bout you, my Little Bonnie.” 

The last sentence is quietly muttered into your temple, a kiss pressed tight. He pulls back slightly and feels at the dried blood on your locks, fingers separating to find the scalp. Johnny’s chest rattles in a sigh, hand shaking slightly when he sees it. 

He’d also seen the body on the window sill, though he knows not to mention it.

Christ, you’d had to kill someone. 

The prospect of taking a life was easy to the Scot—some days he felt like he had been born and bred to do just that. It became simple. Elementary. Like his mother could memorize a recipe, he could memorize the position of arteries; what shot to take at that instant, and which to wait on based only on past missions that resonated like past lives.

But for you…

Oh, it was never supposed to happen to you.

“Are you alright?” Johnny breaths, humor gone and left with guilt. 

He feels your lips on his raging pulse and lets his eyes close, content to feel you move against him as your head remains in his neck. Shifting his body into a more comfortable position, he cages you in protectively. Never again would he allow this to happen.

“I shot someone.” The man’s lips quivered, heart hurting at the blatant shock in your voice. It hadn’t hit you yet, and, hell, Johnny still remembered his first kill like it was yesterday. It wouldn’t be good when all this calmed down. He’d thrown up for two days straight, himself.

“Aye.” He breathes.

“His blood’s all over the house.”

“It is.”

“Is…is that,” you’re shivering, so he massages your spine soothingly until you find the words. “Is that a good thing?” 

He should say no, tell you that the situation that you’d been put in was never supposed to happen and it was just an unfortunate reality. Death wasn’t a good thing, per se. But the man had broken into your shared home—busted down the bedroom door with the intent of using you as a bargaining chip to get to him. So, to the Scot, the answer is clear.

No one messed with his family and lived.

“Yes.” Taking down the air of a dusty alleyway as sirens wail a street over, you weren't surprised that your boyfriend had managed to get to your home far faster than the police could. He said he always would, didn’t he? 

The bills for the speeding tickets and the running of red lights were going to be atrocious.

“Okay.” Your answer is muttered as you peel back, pressing a kiss to the corner of Johnny’s lips. You believed him. Always would. “Thank you.” 

“Don’t thank me.” His bright teeth show off a smile as your mirror. He kisses you heavily on the lips. Whispers against your lips, a promise. A vow. “As long as you put up with me, I’ll always keep you safe.”

“Soap,” Price yells, snapping the two of you out of it. “Get on with it!” 

The Scot raises a shocked brow and smirks down at you as you tilt your head and listen in happy confusion. 

“Y’know, those shots weren't half bad back there. ‘Specially after takin’ a tumble into the flowers.” Your expression freezes in denial as you’re lifted bridal style into the air. Speaking over the calls of police and firemen as they come to the scene, your voice monotones as your legs swing.

“...I missed two out of the three, you dork. That’s failing.” Johnny gapes in mock surprise and you refrain from snorting at the boyish glint in his eyes.

“Jesus, is it really? Hell, you’ll be comin’ for my job in no time, won’t ya? That’s one better than me!” 

You kiss him and feel the grunt through your lips.

TAGS ||

@blueoorchid, @jxvipike, @revrse, @shuttlelauncher81, @bruhhvv, @kittiowolf210, @aerangi, @spikespiegell, @ghost-with-a-teacup, @1234ilikecowsthanyoumore, @uberraschungg, @neelehksttr, @shoe1412,@jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet​, @pukbadger, @omeganixtra, @nanialis, @gills-lounge, @voidinfernal, @sukunas-left-nut-sack, @untoldshortsofthefandoms, @batmanunicorns523, @icepancakes, @copiasratscheese, @besas-stuff, @marytvirgin, @misfne, @halfmoth-halfman, @lothiriel9, @anna-banana27, @jade-jax, @cl0wncxre, @emerald-valkyrie, @michirulol, @330bpm-whiplash, @lora21, @bespectacledhuman, @wolfyland07, @dilfsaremyfavourite, @astronaunt2009, @shmaptin, @levietc, @kk19pls, @semieitabby, @thriving-n-jiving, @cringe-kats, @n1choles, @gaychaosgremlin, @johnpricesprincess, @haleypearce,

[dandelions-143]

Do It For Me

Part 3

Part 1 & 2 can be read here: Chans Master List

Other members Masterlist

Pairing: tattooed Bad Boy/non-idol Chan x bratty bitch f!reader

Wk: 2632k

Warnings: 18+ ONLY, MDNI, smut obviously, rough sex, angry sex, biting, spanking, let me know if I’ve missed anything.

NOT EDITED - I’m currently sick so I hope this is good 😊

Summary: Chan isn’t giving up on Y/n. He isn’t going to back down, but will y/ns harsh mouth get her in trouble?

A/N: Currently working on a playlist for this series so stay tuned! Also if you have already read this just ignore!! Adding all saved tags to all of my works. If you wish to no longer be tagged just let me know.

“Are you seriously going to be pissed off at me over this?” Changbins orotund voice boomed through the car. Chan glanced over at him as he drove down the empty highway, Minho, Jeongin, and Hyunjin were silent in the back seat. “You’re the one that gave me the advice to tell her how I was feeling. So yes, I’m very pissed off at you.”

Sulky Changbin pouted as he looked out the passenger side window. “Well I didn’t tell you to scare the girl off. That’s all on you.” Jeongin was annoyed by their petty bickering. “Can you two stop for once? We are here to do a job. So can you kindly shut the fuck up. Deal with your women problems later.”

“Yeah I’m kind of sick of it too.” Hyunjin chimed in. Chan looked in the rearview mirror, “Your one to talk.” A muscle twitched in Hyunjins jaw and he sat back staying silent the rest of the ride.

It didn’t take long for the men to arrive at their destination. Jeongin, Hyunjin, and Minho got out of the back and rushed to three different cars all parked on the street. They had been in the business of jacking cars for a while now. Selling the entire vehicle or for parts at the auto shop that Felix and Jisung ran. They also sold some high end drugs on the side to Chan’s father’s acquaintances.

Chan and Changbin waited to make sure the guys got into the cars safely without any trouble or cops showing up before they left. Jeongin and Minho were the first to leave, following Chan then Hyunjin finally came along. They drove fast, cutting down back ally’s and side streets to avoid people and potential cops.

They all finally made it back to the shop where Felix, Jisung, and Seungmin greeted them. Once the cars were pulled in to the garage and the doors closed Jisung noticed someone was missing, “Where the hell is Hyunjin?”

You sat crossed legged at a bar, a dirty martini in hand. Your black dress fit every curve just right, your hair fell in waives over your shoulders, tattoos on full display. You looked great and you thought if you went out instead of being cooped up in Hyunjins barely lived in apartment that you would also begin to feel great, but all you kept thinking about was Chan.

Why.. why him? I hate him..right? You thought to yourself as you sipped on your drink. While your thoughts had you consumed a man came and sat next to you. “Hello, mind if I sit here?” The man asked. It startled you out of your thoughts and your eyes glanced over at him. He was handsome, tall and thin, dark short hair fell over his forehead a little.

“Why ask when you sat down anyway?” You turned your attention back to your drink, hoping if you didn’t act interested he would go away. The man turned towards you a little more and stuck out his hand, “I’m Jin and you are?” You huffed in annoyance, just wanting to be left alone.

You looked at his out stretched hand then his face, he had a pleasant enough smile, but you were not interested. “Listen, you seem like a nice guy, but I’m not interested in anything you have to offer. So just stop.” As you turned back towards your drink you heard the man begin to laugh softly. “I was just offering my name and someone to talk to. You seem…troubled.”

His gentle words and the fact that someone (even a stranger) was willing to listen to you made you soften just a bit. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe you were just feeling vulnerable, but you began to talk and he listened to it all.

Jin seemed to be a really nice person and he wasn’t over doing it with his flirting. You were actually having a decent time and the best part…. Your mind was not on Chan. Jin raised his hand for the bartenders attention and asked for another beer for him and another dirty martini for you.

The bartender placed your drink in front of you, but as he was placing Jin’s beer on the bar a very familiar looking hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. Your eyes widened then you slowly turned your head to see Chan standing behind you. His dark hair falling across his forehead and his full lips wrapped around the opening of the beer bottle. “What are you doing, man? That wasn’t your drink.”

Chan continued to kill the beer until it was empty and only then did he put the bottle down and aknowledge Jin’s presence. “Well this is my girl, man.” He put an emphasis on the last word then turned his attention to you. “Get up, y/n. Let’s go.” He demanded, but you weren’t having any of it.

You took your time lifting your glass and sipping from it. “Y/n” you heard him growl under his breath. This made you stand up and turn to him, your face inches from his. “I’m not going anywhere with you.” Being this close to him made your heart beat faster and your skin prickle.

God.. he was so gorgeous.. especially this close. Those deep brown eyes of his stared angrily into yours, never moving even when you chuckled softly knowing you were pushing every button he had. “You heard her, now leave.” Jin said trying to sound confident and confrontational, but had yet to actually stand up and face Chan.

Chan rolled his eyes in annoyance, “For fucks sake.” He muttered under his breath just before he lifted you up over his shoulder like he had done before. You gasped and struggled just a bit in his hold but, that quickly died down once you two were outside.

Chan shifted you into his arms, cradling you. You looked up at him, the alcohol you had consumed made your head a little dizzy, but you still had your senses. “Where are you taking me? Didn’t I make it clear I don’t want to go with you!” You raised your voice a bit and tried to wiggle out of his grip.

Chan effortlessly held onto you until he reached his car. “Stop!” He harshly said and put you back on your feet, but he still had a grip on one of your arms. “Get in the car, y/n. You don’t have a choice.” Chans voice was low and harsh. His eyes were darker than before and his cheeks were a little red. You got in the car with a pout on your lips, you felt like a child being scolded for being out too late.

You watched as Chan got into the drivers side snd leaned over to buckle your seat belt. His eyes met yours for a moment and they seemed to soften a tiny bit. “I hate you.” The words passed your lips before you could really even think about what you were saying.

Did you truly hate him? You loved the way he fucked you, but you hated him. right? The words ran through your mind the instant you said them.

With those words Chans eyes hardened once again and he settled back in his seat. He started the car and headed in the direction of his house. “Taking me to daddy’s house?” You scoffed and looked out the window. “When are you ever going to grow up, Chan?! Why can’t you just leave me alone!” You let the anger bubble up inside of you.

You wanted to hit him.. to scream at him for making you feel all of these things that you didn’t want to feel.. that you didn’t know how to process. You kept bar-rating him and asking him why he wouldn’t just go away. Chan kept quiet and allowed you to rip into him the entire way back to his home.

You could tell all the while he was growing angrier and angrier, but you didn’t care. You wanted him mad.. maybe then he would leave you be. As Chan pulled up into the driveway you were yelling, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! It’s clear I don’t want you! Why do you keep coming back?! Why, Chan?! Why-“

“Because I’m in love with you!!” Chan yelled over you, turning his eyes to meet yours. They were no longer rage filled, but sad…soft… vulnerable. Silence fell over you both.. it was thick and suffocating. At first you didn’t know what to say. How to response or even react to that. You couldn’t run away this time. So you said the one thing you could think of that would hurt him.

“I don’t love you.. I can’t love anyone, Chan.” You said so calmly, but you could feel the tears welling up in your eyes. A muscle twitched in Chan’s jaw as he looked down at his lap for a moment and then he was getting out of the car.

He never once uttered a word as he walked around and opened your door. “What are you doing?” You asked softly. You were calming down from the screaming match you two just had. Chan still said nothing as he reached in and grabbed one of your wrists, pulling you out of the car and lead you into his home.

The moment he shut the large wooden door Chan had you pushed hard up against it. You hit it with a soft grunt as his hands gripped your wrists and held them pressed to the door by your side. His hard body was pressed against yours as well and Chans lips were on you.

Kissing your skin, leaving teeth marks on your exposed neck. Your skin was hot but had chill bumps all over it as he did whatever he pleased and you let him. You were putty in his hands the moment he began to touch you. “You’re so soft..” Chan mumbled as his lips found their way up to your ear, nipping at the sensitive skin there.

You let out a low hum, your body instantly responding to him. Chan let go of your hands and began to tug at your clothes, yanking them off you, piece by piece. Soon you stood in nothing, but your bra and panties. He stepped back and eyed you, “You’re such a bitch.” His words were harsh, but you couldn’t deny them either.

“Take the rest of that off.” He commanded. You hesitated at first, “Are you sure or will you tell me you love me again.” You stepped forward, inches away from him, “Do I make you that weak, Chan?” He cocked his head to the side, his stare making you a bit nervous as the silence seemed to fill the room.

A beautiful smile fell across his full lips as if he were laughing at what you had just said, “That’s cute you call me weak when you’re the one that falls to your knees every time I touch you.” His words pissed you off not because it was a lie, but because you knew just how true they were. “You asshole.” You raised your hand to slap him, but Chan caught your wrist. His eyes boring holes into you.

Suddenly his lips were smashed into yours, hot and urgent. He kissed you as if he could devour you right then and there and you were pressed against that damn door again. You kissed back, your tongue sliding against his. Tangling deliciously together as you kissed. He picked you up and you wrapped your thighs around his waist.

All the while your lips never leaving his. You weren’t sure how he was able to carry you into the kitchen, but you ended up on the cold counter top. He grabbed a fist full of your hair and yanked your head back, you yelped out in shocking pain. “Don’t worry, I’ll never say those fucking words ever again.” Chans words were breathy but very clear.

He pulled you off the counter and ripped your panties off you, leaving you in just your bra. Grabbing your shoulder he spun you around so your bare ass was exposed to him. Pushing you down with his large hand splayed out on your back you felt his lips on your round cheek. He was gently kissing your skin there, licking over his soft bites.

After he had his fill of tasting your skin he slapped the plump mound hard causing you to screach out. You turned your head to look at him, but he grabbed your jaw and made you look ahead of you. “You stay just like that.” His deep voice was raspy.. strained.

You couldn’t see what he was doing, but at some point he had pushed his pants down. You felt Chans cock press against your wet little hole. Instantly he was pressed all the way in. Stretching your walls deliciously. You let out a surprised gasp, not expecting him to enter you so quickly.

Chan wasted no time, he didn’t allow you to adjust to him. He was angry at you and you could tell by the way he was fucking you. Fast and hard thrusts, pushing himself so deep you felt like he was in your lower stomach. He kept fucking you this way, his hands on your shoulders for leverage at first. Pushing deep inside every time. His balls slapping loudly against you along with the smack of his hips hitting your plump ass.

Your pussy was dripping at this point, wet and slick, allowing him to fuck you as rough as he wanted. Chans low moans only turned you on even more. In this moment he could use you as he pleased and you would be happy with it. “Fuck, y/n.. so god damn tight.” You whispered through grunts of pleasure. There was no way you could talk with how fucked out you were right now.

Chan grabbed a fist full of your hair again, yanking hard enough to pull your head back and his other hand was slapping and kneading your ass. “Fucking take my cock” he groaned out. While you were crying out with every hard buck of his hips. Your knees were buckling under you as your orgasm took over unexpectedly.

Chan let go of your hair to wrap his arm around your waist so he could hold you up. He was fucking you dumb, not a single thought going through your mind, his sex was so good. Your muscles trembled as you tightened your smooth, warm walls around his throbbing cock causing Chan to let out a deep unrestrained groan as his body stiffened around you and his hot cum squirted deep inside you.

It took a while for you two to finally come back to your senses. You both spent and panting loudly. You both were covered in sweat, but his heavy body leaning onto yours was oddly comforting. Chan finally pulled out of you leaving you feeling suddenly empty. You managed to turn around using the counter for stability.

You watched as Chan pulled his boxers and pants back up while you stood there shamelessly naked. “This right here.. it will never be anything more than this.” You said as you ran your fingers through your tangled and sweaty hair. Chans eyes dragged up your body until they reached your face, “Never say never, babe.” That soft smile creeping back onto his lips.

You couldn’t help the next sentence that tumbled from your mouth, “I’ll never be your baby.” It took a second and Chans strong hand was gripping your lower jaw, making you look up at him. He leaned in real close and growled, “You’re whatever the fuck I call you, baby.”

Taglist open:

@cashtonsbetch @katsukis1wife @hyunjinhoexxx @ihrtlino @breezy-simp @vixensss @yaorzu-blog @tirena1 @whatdoyouwanttocallmefor @chuuyaobsessed @doohnut @babigriin @kpflyn @rylea08 @sheerfreesia007 @tsunderelino @cookiesandcreammy @rockstarkkami @moonchild9350 @syedazarintasnim @myflowercloud @143hyunes @luvyblossom @shecheatedwithme @antisocialties @akaligogrrr @thisaintredwine @rose-w-00-d @jisuperboard @velvetmoonlight @kayleefriedchicken @skzfelixlove

[blingblong55]

The end is here...right?-Simon "Ghost" Riley

photo credit @ave661 middle pic Not edited at all!! ---- F!Reader, angst? idk, cheating ---- A/N: honestly, don't even ask me what this is, I felt the need to write this very late at night...so I'm sorry

"I love you." Oh, what a miserable way to begin the end of this love story. How did it end? How did his smiles, kisses and most importantly those eyes that shined when they looked at you end? Why must love be this evil? Soon, after this funeral you and he will walk away and be strangers once more.

One more glance, maybe one that explains why he fell out of love. Maybe it is a hopeful word for a fool like you. If only love was a joke, at least one you understood but it isn't and now you're dying in a room whilst the walls scream at your foolish heart. Can you pretend he never existed? Can you call him and have him there as he holds your lifeless heart? This book that you made wasn't one for the weak. This book was made for those who needed a reminder that they needed to leave. Was it toxic to have him love you that much and then rip it away from you just before you told him the dreams you wanted to have with him? Was it evil that you had already planned a life with him? or was it vile to have you this in love with the idea of a man who couldn't love you like you wanted?

There will be a day when he fades but today isn't that day for he tattooed his name on your heart for the next millennia to see…to whisper about when they hear the chapel weep for a love that it never got to seal. Oh, what a cruel man must Simon but to have you in bed, to kiss your body like there was no other woman for him. Wise men do say death is best when it isn't by the hand of the lover. If only he warned you about him.

His smile will forever be engraved in you just like his lips will be left with scars that once were butterflies on you. "I'm not a good man, love," he once told you and oh what a fool were you when you didn't listen. Did the weeping willow tree not warn you? "You're in terrible danger." it once said but you brushed it off.

His things are still there, his jacket on the chair like the night he came home and hugged you. Did you know it'd end with you waiting for him to come home again? He was here to destroy you and what a job he did.

Maybe someday, in an alternate universe, he hadn't left you for her. Maybe he would have stayed and completed the dreams you once had. And just perhaps you'd be religious to thank whatever is out there for him.

Tonight you curse whatever is out there.

He was never to keep, maybe he should told you that.

Does he love her like he did you? Maybe he kisses her shoulder but does he move the furniture so he can dance with her in the middle of a drunken midnight? Midnight…hm..what a time to be dead and buried with his memories on your headstone.

He was yours.

He was meant to be yours.

Will you one day confess you left the front porch light on in case he needed a guide back home?

"Forgive me, I have sinned. I committed murder, not literal murder but of my own heart," you whisper to the altar you never got to say your vows to. And maybe she'll hear his vows but you swear yours are sweeter than hers.

As the midnight falls, you aimlessly walk to the haunted chapel. The rain pours as you look at the windy sky. You sigh and maybe that should've been your last one for what is life if not with him.

You don't need much, just need him. Maybe you can sacrifice anything…for the love of all hell… sacrifice anything to get him back.

As you sit on the stairs of the chapel, you look dishevelled. There is a ring on your hand. The one he gave you one Christmas when you mentioned you liked the design of one. What a cruel idea that must've been. Your thumb runs over the designs and tears cascade down your face but it's oh so beautifully covered by the rain. "I love you, Simon. I…I fucking love you and it's killing me." you say before you break down in sobs. There's this feeling, the feeling when you cry too much your chest begs you to stop, where your head aches and your face begs to stop this pain.

You hold onto yourself, maybe this way you'll heal some of the love he took with him but it won't until you have him there.

Is it idiotic to want him back? Yes, but damn does it feel good to want him. So what if he broke your heart? Maybe no one understands this feeling. Maybe the poets were right.

You must let him go, it is killing this aching and weak heart of yours.

You do just that. The ring is left on the steps of the chapel and walk away. What an awful way to mourn the loss of his love. The rain will cover your tracks and maybe you can disappear for a little while.

Once you disappear, there is a shadow man who also mindlessly walks to the steps of the chapel. He sits down on the same steps you did. In his heart, there is a funeral that is happening. He lost something…someone. This man is bitter. There is a sour taste he leaves wherever he goes. Does he know the sour taste he left in you?

There is a story that goes around about him and you know it better than those that tell the story.

As he sits there, he looks at his hands. Did he kill his lover? Not physically…well…yes and now but he killed her heart. He is the doctor that collects hearts and he has yours in a golden jar.

As he looks down, he finds the ring he gifted you. As his eyes wander around the area, you are never to be found at least not anymore and maybe he will find you in his dreams. That's the last place you haunt with that ever-lovely smile he oh so adores.

Those who love are fools struck by Cupid.

He holds the ring and lets his thumb run through the designs he will never craft for another lover. He hums and shuts his eyes. If angels were real, they'd pity him and put him out of his misery.

There was a film about this kind of love out there and maybe you two are fools recreating it but adding real emotions into the mix.

"I love you, even if you'll be the end of me," he whispers as he sighs and lets the tears fall.

The end is here…and it wants to sweep you away but Simon clings to you. Was there another woman? No, he lied and it was a damn good lie so he'd let you live the life he can never give you. He is a bump, a major one at that, in your life and maybe one day, you'll forgive him when you sit down with the actual man of your dreams.

Love, what a stupid word.

A/N: not tagging anyone because I don't even know what this is anymore

[kiddiewrites]

First Post

Sooooo this is the first fanfic I write, the current obsession is Call of Duty. Have I ever played the game?? No. Am I gonna play the game? Yes, I've downloaded the mobile version :D. Do the characters match their game personality? Probably not, the only source I have of them are other fanfics and edits I saw on tiktok JAJAJAJA.

Angst, T.F.141 x reader, Platonic!T.F.141 x reader, HURT, bit of OOC T.F. 141, pining!reader, bit of a sad ending, drunk confessions, overheard conversations, PAAAAAAAIIIIN (maybe I’m just projecting Enlgish is my second language so please be kind xd

PART 2

∞ Command me to be well ∞

“There is no sweeter innocence, than our gentle sin”

In all honesty, you weren’t supposed to be there. You should’ve been in the med bay, you should’ve been filing reports on the last mission and updating medical records.

You’ve been assigned to Task Force 141 as their base doctor, having no experience in the field you remained back in HQ until they came back from deployment. You quickly realized they didn’t fully trust you as a doctor, whether it was due to your civilian background or a misjudgement of your abilities, you never knew and frankly you didn’t want to. You tried not to be a bother, you knew their job was hard as it was, so you tried a friendlier approach, making sure to try and interact with them if even at a minimum. 

Instead, you were faced with a hard cold truth, one that you hoped had vanished with a few friendlier words in your direction… you weren’t wanted.

Time seemed to move slower as the last few minutes replayed in your mind. 

The guys were sharing a much needed drink after a rather difficult mission. Letting the façade fall down for a bit, the whiskey loosening tongues and bringing to the surface feelings that could no longer be held down.

You were walking down the hallway that led to Price’s office, a bit of a pep to your walk and a container of baked goods in one hand and the files that needed his signature on the other. You knew they’d be a bit peckish after their mission so you thought ahead and brought some pastries that you knew they liked, even though Simon always said that those were more sugar than bread. In an instant the door to the Captain's office was at reach so you balanced the files over the container. 

-She’s jus so fecking annoying, y’know ?-

You stopped right when you were about to knock on the door, hand midair. 

-I ge’ tha’ we’re suppose to get along seein tha shes the fecking doctor- 

What?  Your breathing stopped and your body shivered

-Bu’ I jus can’t seem to tolerate’ er- the voices seemed a bit muffled by the closed door but still the volume was loud enough for you to hear… Listening as you stood there frozen, wishing that you couldn’t. 

-C’mon Johnny, she can be a bi’ annoying, sure.- Ouch 

-Bu’ she does ‘er job properly and at the end o’ the day, tha’s why she’s ‘ere fo’. - 

Kyle seemed to try and reason with him but even his own voice sounded strained. 

The beating of your heart going wild with every second that passed, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. They couldn’t refer to you right? Maybe, maybe it was someone else on their mission…

-Y/N does a good job, lads.- That’s the captain’s voice… Fuck…

-I get tha’, is jus… she keeps sticking t’ us like feckin glue everywhere we go- Oh no…

The tears were freely flowing now, not wanting to believe what you were hearing, sure you weren’t the most serious person but you never thought that would be a problem, specially after everything you’ve done with and for them. 

-Maybe you’ should stop inviting ‘er everywhere with us then- 

-Is no’ like I want to, Lt.  Bu’ she jus… pops ‘ere everytime I try and talk to all o’ you .- 

“Maybe I should go… But… my legs are not moving” 

-S’ your fault for flirting wi’ er when she came roun’ the firs time- Kyle was annoyed, months of interaction helping you to recognize the tone in their voices.

-Y’kno tha’ he does tha’ to everyone.- Simon sounded so sincere that you couldn’t help to feel stupid, as if you were just a joke. Another one of the bunch… 

-Lads, c’mon… She’s jus’ doin her job- Price was tired and he could already feel a headache starting to form in the back of his head.

-She’s a nice girl, ‘sides you kno’ tha’ i couldn’ stop Laswell for saddling ‘er with us- 

That was it, you never thought that they didn’t want you. They were a bit standoff-ish in the first few weeks or so but that was because they didn't know you… right? They were a tight-knit group, it was perfectly natural to not trust an outsider with their health, right? 

They became friendlier in the last weeks, actually letting you patch them up rather than doing it themselves when you weren’t in the med bay. The first one that apparently seemed friendly to you was Johnny, making you blush with his flirtatious ways but at least making you glad that he was starting to open up a bit, Kyle and Price being a bit on the quiet side but at least no longer just completely silent while you fixed them up and Simon… well he was still not talking to you or acknowledging you.

Knowing that all of your efforts were for nothing made you feel useless, it had nothing to do with your job, you knew you were good otherwise you wouldn’t have been assigned to the 141. 

So with a deep breath and a new goal in mind,  you turned away and left files in one hand and a slightly crushed box of pastries.

“In the madness and soil, of that sad earthly scene”

You didn’t sleep a wink since that moment, pouring yourself over the medical files that needed your approval for final submission.

You were so deep in thought, that you didn’t hear the knocks at your door, only looking up when you heard a cough to get your attention. 

There stood your captain, looking very tired and you already could see the headache seeping into his usual calm demeanor. 

The urge to offer him a tea cup or a mild remedy for his head crossed your mind, he looked really tired but after what you heard last night you just couldn’t bring yourself to do so. 

- Is there something you needed, captain?- your voice came out a little bit tired and sharper than usual, something that didn’t went unnoticed by the captain

-Yeah, kid. The reports from the last mission, do you have’ em?- He narrowed his eyes a bit at you, as if trying to figure out what happened. 

-Sure, let me get them for you- you stood up and moved to the cabinet next to your desk, there you took them off next to where the box of pastries remained intact and went ahead to give the to  the captain. 

- Here, all of the medical procedures and recent injuries are already stated. All they need is your approval so your medical history can be updated in due course- 

You handed him the files and turned to look at him, his face was a mix of confusion and slight annoyance. This side of you was new to him and he didn’t quite like it, where once you were all smiles and cheerful disposition now stood a sad look and a blank face, as if the very sunshine was taken from you. 

-Is everything all righ’, kid?- he found himself asking, you sighed loudly and headed back to your desk.

-Don’t worry about me, captain. Is just a rough patch, that’s all- You sat down and started to go over the files laid out before you.

-Alrigh’, if you need anything…- he watched you for a few seconds and then turned away and left.

A sour mood was felt across the base and from the interaction each of them had with you over the course of the week … there was definitely something wrong. 

Johnny tried flirting with you, but instead of being all giggles and blushing mess you just looked at him with a tight lip smile and continued as if he never talked to you, even when Kyle came in to your office for a quick fix up of his most recent stitches you remained completely silent, only talking to give him instructions on how to take care of his injuries and when to take his pain meds. Price’s office was a bit quieter than usual, without your usual self trying to warm up to him with an equally warm cup of tea or coffee in hand to help him through his headaches, even Simon felt the shift in your behavior, when crossing in the hallways or the break room being greeted with nothing more than a call of his rank and quickly leaving. 

The boys went into the cafeteria that same week and were surprised to see that while to the other soldiers you were still friendly and smiley, to them you were nonchalant and seemed almost way too professional. And that was upsetting everyone, so when you finished your lunch and went back to your office, files and coffee in hand they all decided that enough was enough.

You hadn't even finished entering your office when the four men burst in right behind you. You turned around with a scared look and a squeak of surprise at the sudden intrusion, the coffee almost falling from your grip and the files clutched to your chest. The boys all looked at you with a mix of annoyance and betrayal and you felt small, very very small. 

-What the hell is wrong with you?- your voice was a bit raised from the fright you were still recovering from, as you walked to your desk to leave the files and the coffee, Johnny spoke up. 

-Us? Wha’ e’ ‘ell is wrong wit you?- You turned around with a very deep frown etched into your face. 

-What are you talking about? You’re the ones that burst into my office like a pack of wild animals.- A very annoyed Johnny stepped right up until he was face to face with you. 

-Johnny calm down, mate.- Gaz’s voice was heard over Johnny’s loud breathing. 

-No, no’ until she���s told us jus’ wha’ in the living fuck is wrong- His voice was dangerously low, and it was fucking terrifying. 

-First of, back the fuck off, sargeant. I may be just a bloody fucking nuisance but i’m a doctor and I will break every bone in your body while naming them- A surprised look flashed through everyone’s faces, you’ve never talked to them like that before, and when Johnny didn’t seem to back off, you pushed with all your might and managed to make him to stumble back a bit. 

At that moment Ghost approached him and held him before he could fall, but the look he gave you, was right down murderous. A chill ran down your spine and your instincts screamed at you to run but your legs didn’t seem to work. Price at seeing the angry look on both of your faces quickly stood in front of everyone and yelled at both of you to cut it out. 

-Y/LN, you’ll apologize this instant or you’ll be subject to a reprimand for assaulting a ranking officer.- Price knew at the moment those words left his lips… he’d fucked up. 

-Excuse me?- You turned to look at him, furious. The nerve of these men…

-You think that you can burst into my office, to then demand an answer for which I do not know the fucking question to and THEN reprimand me for protecting myself against a man that got way into my personal space?- 

Your voice was raised, you were very very pissed off and the boys knew it, they knew they weren’t the best when it came to you, almost neglecting your care due to years and years of trust issues. They knew it wasn’t fair to you, but still when the only ones taking care of them were themselves, they just couldn’t trust you completely.

- I have tried SO hard to have you guys to trust me, GOD KNOWS I’VE TRIED and you won’t let me.- You felt the tears well up in the corners of your eyes and the faces of shock in the squad just made you feel worse. 

You hated yourself for crying, but the anger in you, the betrayal and the sadness were all out there now, so might as well just tell them everything. 

-I know I’m pathetic to you, I know that you think I’m… how you put it, Sergeant MacTavish?- At the mention of his name he looked up at you - “so fucking annoying”, I think was the term used.- His eyes widened, he knew exactly what you were talking about and the others seemed to remember the conversation they had a few days prior. 

-You’ eard o’r conversation?- Gaz seemed a bit angry and confused, how the hell could you have heard them if you weren’t supposed to be in the building. 

-Yes… I know it was wrong… I needed the captain’s signature on all of your files so your medical records could be updated..- The realization dawned on the captain, that’s why you were so down the next day… You heard everything. 

- But… I guess it was ultimately for the best- Your voice a whisper as you looked at them. 

-If you’re that unsatisfied with my care, I’ll ask the brass for a transfer.- The determined look on your face was like a slap in their faces, you were really going to leave them. They needed to fix this but neither of them said anything, you took a deep breath and left the office, leaving the four men standing dumbfounded in your office.

“What in the actual fuck just happened?” a thought, accompanied with the memory of utter anger and sadness in your face that will hunt the squad for the rest of their lives. 

They needed to fix it… soon. 

“Only then I am human, only then I am clean”

SOOOOOOO this was my first piece, i'm really sorry if it’s not the best so please forgive me jajaja.

If you liked it please like and reblog, I would like to keep writing and knowing you like it will make me very happy.

Jejejeje feedback is appreciated <3