#or else he's gonna climb up to your window and knock on it

[suncakeartcive]

I may or may not selfship with Eugene but that's probably not surprising 😳😳😳🤦🤦🤦

op your lover boy is outside your house with flowers blaring songs from his jukebox why are you IGNORING HIM, GO

[vivwritesfics]

Set The World On Fire

Chapter Eleven

Lando Norris had been incredibly angry when they met. Incredibly angry, but sweet enough to help her. Turns out he just needed somebody to talk to, somebody to be there for him.

He was easy to fall for, and that put her in a world of danger

Warnings:

Mafia AU

1.4K

Series Masterlist

A yawn left her lips. The television was playing in front of her, but she was hardly paying attention. How could she when she was this tired?

A knock at her door didn't even wake her up. Her eyelids were drooping, the world around her completely tuned out. The knock came again, but this one was more insistent.

This one had her jumping out of her seat and rushing to the door. "Coming!" She shouted quickly before a yawn could escape her lips. She didn't bother to check through the peep hole before she pulled open the front door of her apartment.

"Lando."

There he stood in his suit, but the jacket was missing. Sweat drenched his skin and his curls were stuck to her forehead. His chest was heaving as he stared at her.

Immediately she grabbed him and pulled him into her apartment, now fully awake. "Holy fuck," she whispered as she shut the door. "What the hell happened?"

Lando let out a breath as he leaned against the door. He took a moment to stare at her, a moment to breathe. She was okay, and that was what mattered. Lando reached towards her and pulled her close, pulled her against his sweaty chest. He pressed his nose against her neck and breathed in.

He released her and turned around to check the locks. And then he was rushing around her apartment, checking her windows were locked and pulling her curtains shut. He grabbed a chair from her kitchen table and placed the back of it beneath the door knob.

His fingers began working on his shirt, unbuttoning it. "I'm gonna shower," he said, his voice far away and dazed.

But he didn't make it very far before she grabbed a hold of him. "Wait," she said softly, her fingers around his bicep. "Lan, what's going on?" She looked up him, her eyes full of worry. "Come on, talk to me.

Lando sucked in a breath. His lips were parted, ready to speak. But he changed his mind and shook his head. "Let me shower first," he mumbled.

She let him go, but Lando grabbed a hold of her hand. He laced his fingers through her own and pulled his hand up to his lips, eyes shut as he kissed her palm. "Fuck," he whispered, voice shaking. He kept a hold of her and pulled her towards the bathroom.

The shower wasn't big enough for the both of them, but neither of them cared. They squeezed into the tiny cubicle, bodies pressed together as they huddled beneath the water. She squeezed shampoo into her hands and reached up to run it through his curls.

It was a silent exchange. Lando stared at her as she washed him, ran the loofah over his tanned skin. In that moment, it was exactly what he needed.

She climbed out of the shower and grabbed a towel to wrap around his body. "Have you eaten?" You whispered as she dried her own body. Lando shook his head as he wrapped his towel around his waist.

She left him to get changed into sweats and a t-shirt while she got started on dinner. Something easy. She hummed to herself while she the pasta boiled.

Lando walked through the apartment, his footsteps light. He anxiously looked at the windows, bottom lip pulled between his teeth as he turned to the door. "Lan," she mumbled as as she leaned against the counter, back to the boiling pasta. "Talk to me, tell me what's going on."

He sucked in a deep breath. Lando didn't want to tell her what was going on, didn't want to tell her that he had been lying to her. There was no way she would ever forgive him once he told her. But what else could he say?

"Do you know how I ended up owning a night club?"

It was a simple question, one designed to ease into the conversation. A conversation Lando never wanted to have. He watched as she took her head and walked over to the couch to grab a blanket. "I thought your family was just really rich," she said as he stuffed the blanket against the bottom of the door, blocking out any noise.

The laugh that escaped his lips was dry. "Oh, baby," he said. "You're right, my family is rich. But there's more to it than that." He released a breath and sat back in his seat. "The world is run by families, crime families. And you've met the leader of almost every family that runs the world."

A small gasp left her lips.

"My sisters wedding. It joined my family to one of the families that runs Spain. You couldn't come to my dad's funeral because that was the day I became the head of my family and I didn't want you to see me like that." Lando sucked in a shaky breath. "We own properties and offer protection. Before I became the head of the family, if people don't pay their rent or protection fees, it was my job to... take care of it. We shipped... things internationally, to the other families to distribute and sell."

Her arms were folded over her chest, refusing to meet his eyes. "Drugs?"

His jaw was tight as he nodded. "Yeah," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Just look at me, please! He just had to know she didn't hate him. He cleared his throat, biting back tears (mafia bosses didn't cry) and continued with his story.

"Someone broke into my house. A whole group of people, actually. I heard gunshots, so I hid myself up on the roof. As soon as I could, I got down and I ran to you."

The pasta was boiling over, but she didn't much care. At the sounds of hissing from the stove, she turned around and turned it off. "What did you mean by take care of it?" She asked, voice so quiet Lando barely heard it.

"What?"

"If people didn't pay their rent or protection fees, how would you take care of it?" The way her heart was beating, she thought it was going to burst right of her chest.

Lando swallowed. "Please don't make me say it."

That was all of the confirmation she needed.

Sitting at her kitchen table was a man with the blood of others on his hands. She mixed the spaghetti with the source, plated it up and placed it in front of him. "Baby-"

"Don't, Lando." The man who had killed people, her boyfriend, stared at her, eyes shining with innocence. But he wasn't innocent, was he? "Why did you come here?" She asked quickly. "Why not go to your mothers apartment?"

Lando let out a breath. "I had to know that you were okay."

Silence settled between them. Her chest ached as she watched him, watched how his hands shook when he stabbed the pasta with his fork. There was a part of her that wanted to kick him out of her apartment, that wanted to wash her hands of this.

But she couldn't. Somewhere along the way she had fallen for him. She had fallen for him and she wanted nothing more than to keep him safe.

Lando, her Lando, the man who was always so sweet to her, was a murderer. He'd murdered people, murdered them because they didn't pay. What kind of people were after him? Would they come here?

Lando finished his pasta and put his plate in the sink. "I need sleep," he mumbled as he walked over to her, ready to wrap his arms around her and breathe in her scent.

But she stepped away from him, pressed her back against the door of her fridge. His heart sank. "I," she began, but then she took a moment to breathe. The breath she sucked in was a shaky one, her entire body shaking. "It might be best if you sleep on the couch," she said.

Of course, Lando wanted nothing more than to wrap her in his arms while he slept, to know she was there, his body pressed against hers.

He wouldn't make her sleep in the same bed with him, though. If she wanted him sleeping on the couch, he'd sleep on the couch. He'd give her all of the space she needed. "Okay," he said with a nod. Whatever she wanted. She could have asked him to leave, and he would have.

"I'll get you a pillow."

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[squoxle]

“Fuck Him, Let’s Play” ~ Felix ff 18+

👾pairing: Lee Felix!bf x Reader!gf | 👾wc: 1.7k | 👾summary: All you wanted to do was spend some time with your boyfriend, Felix. But when your little "Netflix and Chill" session is interrupted by his best friend, Chan, you must find another way to get what you came here for. No matter what. |👾cw: profanity, swearing, alcohol consumption, drunk sex, oral m. receiving, fingering f., creampie, facial, voyeurism, exhibitionism (basically porn with a plot: read at your own discretion)

link to part 2

You were over at your boyfriend Felix's house to spend some time with him. What you didn't expect was for him to be whisked away by his best friend Chan for an all night gaming session.

You sat idly on Felix’s bed as the two of the tapped away. You watched for a little while before you couldn’t take it anymore. You tried entertaining yourself on your phone but it was useless. You came over for your boyfriend not your phone.

“Felix~” you whined.

“Yeah, babe. What’s up?” He said with his eyes still fixed on the screen.

“How much longer are you gonna play the game?” You pouted.

“Uhhh…this’ll be the last game okay,” he said before getting back into the game.

You only sighed in response this was the third time he said that. He and Chan had been gaming for almost 3 hours straight now without a break. Unless you count pausing to laugh or change the game.

You were so annoyed by Chan right now. Most of the time you didn’t mind him being around, but he literally barged in.

Before he came over, you and Felix were laying on the couch together getting ready to watch a movie. You both knew that the movie was gonna end up watching itself after a while. But all sexy, freaky, horny thoughts went straight out the window as soon as you heard that knock on the door.

Chan had a special little knock. You immediately knew it was him before your boyfriend even got up to open the door.

“Hey bro!” Chan smiled as he walked in, dapping Felix up.

“Hey, what are you doing here? I told you to come over tomorrow,” Felix said as he ruffled his hair.

“Yeah, I know. But I need to take my mind off of a situation,” Chan raised an eyebrow.

“Situation?”

“Yeah. Remember that girl I was telling you about?”

“Yeah. What about her?”

“Well, today I met her boyfriend.”

“No way…” Felix’s jaw dropped.

“Way. And then she was all like ‘Why are you getting so upset bro? We’re just friends.’ I felt like such an idiot standing there. I couldn’t even hang around anymore. So I cooled off and came over here.”

“Damn. That’s insane. I’m surprised she never mentioned anything about him.”

“Exactly! I mean she could’ve at least told me that. Then I wouldn’t gotten myself so hung up on her y’know.”

“Yeah, bro. I get it,” Felix said placing a hand on Chan’s shoulder. "I think I know exactly what you need right now," Felix smiled.

"To get completely wasted and game till I pass out?" Chan tilted his head.

"You got it," Felix chuckled before walking over to you.

You were still sitting on the couch wrapped up in Sonic the Hedgehog blanket. Before he said a single word, you already knew what was coming next.

"Raincheck?" He smiled nervously. "I'm really sorry, babe, but this is kind of an emergency. I promise I'll make it up to you," he said before placing a kiss on your forehead. "Just a few games, okay. And then we can spend the whole night together."

"Go ahead," you sighed before following him to his bedroom and plopping yourself on the bed. And that's exactly where you've been this whole time.

Since talking to him wasn't working, you needed to try something else. You were desperate, and at this point, you were willing to do whatever to get what you wanted.

You climbed out of bed and walked over to sit on Felix's lap while he played the game. As expected, he happily allowed you to sit between his legs.

His chin rested on your shoulder as he continued gaming, ignoring you as if you didn't even exist.

It was time for the second part of your plan, casually turn him on to get him in the mood. "God, I hope this works," you thought to yourself as you began to slowly move your ass around on his lap.

He sat back at bit, assuming you were trying to get comfortable. That was until you started to do an up and down movement. Almost bouncing, but not quite. Chan was still sitting next to him and you didn't want to divert too much attention to yourself.

"Ngh," Felix grunted as you reached between your legs to graze his dick through his sweatpants with your fingers. "What are you doing?" he whispered to which you only mischievously smiled in response.

Felix wasn't pissy drunk yet, but he was getting there. And you knew once that happened, you could do almost anything to him. Chan on the other hand was a lot drunker than Felix.

Chan reached for the beer bottle that sat on the dresser before tipping his head back to catch the last drop on his tongue.

"Damn...I'm all out," he said looking at the empty bottle. "Did you want me to get you another?" Chan asked as he stood up.

"Ummm, sure. But they're none left in the fridge. You'll have to go out to my car and get the other case," Felix hiccuped as he guided you off of his lap. "Wait. Lemme get the keys for you," His words were slightly slurred together.

You watched as he staggered over to the closet to grab his car keys out of his jacket pocket. "Here ya go, mate," he said placing the keys in Chan's hands.

Felix plopped back down in the chair as Chan left the room. You were standing up near the TV, but instead of sitting back down on his lap, you crawled between his legs.

You took both of your hands and pressed them up against Felix's semi-hard-on. He was staring at the ceiling until you did that. "Woah, babe. What are you doing?" he said as his eyes widened.

"I'm doing exactly what I came over here to do. Have a little fun with my boyfriend," you smirked as you reached into his pants and pulled out his dick.

"Babe, we can't do this right now. Chan's still here. Can you please wait just a little bit longer?" he pleaded.

"Uh uh. I've waited long enough. I want it right now," you pouted before spitting on his tip and wrapping your lips around him.

He threw his head back as you began sucking on his tip. You bobbed your head up and down as your boyfriend gripped onto the arm rests.

"Mmm," he moaned softly as you looked up to meet his eyes. You knew that nothing turned your boyfriend on more than the lustful way you looked at him while sucking his dick.

"Hey, I got the drinks--" Chan stopped in the door frame as he came in to see you sucking his friend off.

"Oh shit!" Felix immediately snapped out of the seductive trance you had put him in and tried to cover himself.

"Umm...should I go?" Chan asked as both of you looked at him standing there in shock.

"Uhhh...I...umm" Felix stammered as his eyes darted back and forth between you and Chan.

"You guys can keep playing the game. I don't mind," you shrugged.

"What? Are you sure?" Chan asked while Felix sat speechless in the chair.

"Yeah. You two can play the game while I have fun down here," you smiled.

"Seriously?" Felix gasped.

"Yeah," you giggled.

"Umm...okay," Felix stuttered as Chan came over to sit next to him while you got back to sucking his dick.

You stroked up and down on his dick as he tried to stay focused on the game in front of him. However, you felt another set of eyes on you. It was Chan, he was almost drolling while he watched you suck his friend off. You looked down to see the growing bulge in his pants.

"Dude! What the fuck? This is my girlfriend," Felix spat as he caught Chan getting turned on by you. "Look, babe. We're gonna have to do this later. I don't wanna see my friend drooling over you right in front of me."

"Sorry, man it's just--"

"Fuck him, let's play," you said cutting Chan off as you started sucking your boyfriend's throbbing dick again. Before he could even argue with you, you moaned with his cock in your mouth. The vibrations from your throat were just what you needed to distract him.

You pushed your head down trying to fit as much of him in your mouth as possible.

"It's okay just this one time baby," you cooed as Felix nodded in response.

You caught Chan palming himself in your peripheral vision. Noticing that you were also getting him turned on, you really began performing. You started to suck harder and faster as you reached your hand between your legs to finger yourself.

Chan pulled out his dick and began stroking it up and down as he watched you sucking dick while moaning and fingering yourself.

You sat back to suck the wetness from your fingers before wrapping your lips around Felix's dick again. You could feel him getting more turned on as he pushed your head down and grunted loudly while he fucked your throat.

You could feel every inch pumping in and out of your throat. Every so often he would pull back to allow you to get some air, but at this point, he was using your throat like his own personal fleshlight.

"Keep playing with that perfect little pussy of yours," Felix groaned as your head bobbed up and down. Your body quivered as you were nearly about to cum.

Felix watched as your face contorted and pulled his dick out of your mouth as you came all over your finger. Your moans were so sexy that Chan nearly got off at that very moment.

Felix aggressively grabbed your head and forced it down as he filled your throat with his cum. He noticed that Chan was getting close too and motioned him to move closer to you.

It wasn't long before Chan came all over your face, streams of white fluids ran down your neck as he finished.

❀ Thank you all so much for reading! Make sure to check out other works on my masterlist!

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[eiightysixbaby]

the boy is mine (leah’s edition)

my little slice of input for @carolmunson’s writing challenge 🩵

cw: best friend!eddie x fem!reader, kissing, a couple flirty comments, nothing else really just fluff! (1.9k)

prompt rules: the scene: a romantic night in at the trailer. props included/mentioned (in passing or can hold bigger meaning): a throw pillow, vanilla frosting, a small notebook. dialogue included (can be manipulated slightly if needed, can be placed in any order): "i ran out of like, nice cups, is this okay?" // "aw, don't be like that. that's not even true." // “and you like that?" // "if you don't stop, we're gonna have a problem."

Your heart is thrumming excitedly in your chest before you’ve even thrown your car into park. The sun is just starting to set, blanketing the trailer park in a cozy golden hue. The air is sweet when you step out of your vehicle, and you take a deep inhale to calm your giddy body.

You don’t need to be inside the trailer to hear Eddie’s guitar. The melodic sound of his acoustic’s strings dance in the summer evening’s breeze, carried right out of his window and into your waiting ears. You smile to yourself, looking down at where your sneakers flatten the grass with each step you take. Climbing the front steps and nearly knocking, then deciding you never need to knock at Eddie’s, you swing open the trailer’s door with a gentle pull. There’s a squeak of its rusting hinge, a sound you’ve grown entirely used to, and it protests once more as you close the door behind you just like you knew it would.

“Ed?” you call out, toeing off your shoes in the doorway.

He doesn’t hear you, which doesn’t surprise you. Knowing him, he’s completely lost in whatever song he’s trying to learn. If you’re lucky he’ll have actually remembered your plans tonight, and you won’t walk in on him butt-naked or something.

The trailer is bathed in warm lighting, the lingering scent of a cigarette hanging in the air. You trail down the hallway, fingers fidgeting with each other as you go. His door is already open a crack, but you give a gentle knock anyways.

The smile he gives you when you appear in his room is radiant, his eyes so fond and eager to see you. He sits cross-legged on his bed, hair pulled loosely off of his face. He looks beautiful, as he always does.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greets you, a pet name you’ll never tire of hearing from his lips. “Sorry, I promise I didn’t forget you were coming, I just kind of got distracted playing—”

“It’s okay, Ed,” you cut him off, sitting on the floor at his feet. Your chin rests on his knee, looking up at him. “What’re you practicing?”

“Well, uh,” he starts, reaching a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. “It’s new. Something I wrote.”

“Oh?” you perk up, curiosity peaked.

“I haven’t perfected it yet, though. Honestly I’m not sure if it’s even any good,” he continues, his face reddening slightly. You notice him reach out to grab the notebook that sits beside him, holding it protectively. That’s his lyric book, you know it is, because he usually lets you flip through it whenever you like.

“Hey, don’t be like that. You’re good at songwriting, Eddie.”

“You just say that cause you’re my best friend, ‘n you have to,” he rolls his eyes, smiling fondly at you despite it.

“That’s not even true!” you defend. “I mean, yes I am your best friend, but no I’m not saying it because I have to.”

You look at him so earnestly, your voice so sincere, it nearly makes him crumble. You stare at each other for a moment, something hanging in the air between you, before he clears his throat.

“You, uh, you want anything to drink? It’s been hot as tits out there all day,” he says, standing up and laying his guitar flat on his mattress.

“Did Wayne make any more of that lemonade?” you ask, looking up at him hopefully.

He laughs, a bright little sound. “Yeah. Knew you’d want some, so I asked him to make another batch. C‘mon,” he says, holding his hand out for you to take.

He hoists you up from your spot on the carpet, not letting go of your hand on your journey to the kitchen. You can’t help but yearn for the warmth back when he eventually lets go, opening the fridge and pulling out the pitcher. Perching yourself on the countertop, you watch as he rummages around for glasses.

“I ran out of like, nice cups. Is this okay?” he asks, presenting you with a red plastic cup with a Care Bear on it. Somehow, after coming to this trailer weekly for over a year now, you’d never seen this.

You snort, accepting the now-filled plastic kid’s cup. You rotate it in your hands, marveling at it. “I didn’t take you for a Care Bears type-a guy,” you wiggle your eyebrows, taking a sip of the sweet and sour liquid.

“Oh, fuck off,” he says, though there isn’t a hint of anger in his tone. He smiles while he says it, pouring his own lemonade into a coffee mug.

“Listen, I’m just saying. They’re very like, sunshine and rainbows! Happiness and love!” you say, pitching your voice higher and waving your hands as you speak.

“Okay? And?”

“And you like that? Forgive me for being taken aback that you, Edward Munson, lord of all things dark and off-putting, are a Care Bears enjoyer.”

That glorious laugh leaves him once more as he moves to stand beside you, his back pressing against the counter and his side brushing against your thigh. You flush at the contact, trying to keep your composure.

“Okay, well, first of all,” he starts, looking at you with a tilt of his head. “It’s not all sunshine and rainbows. There’s literally a bear called Grumpy Bear. Y’know, he’s got the rain cloud? He’s always like, super pissed and mopey.”

“One angry bear doesn’t take away from the overall happiness of the show,” you inform him, earning a scoff from him. “And, the bear on this cup is literally Tenderheart Bear. You own a cup with the leader of the happy bears on it.”

“What’s wrong with Tenderheart Bear?” he asks, holding a hand over his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded. “He initiates all of the new bears, makes them feel welcome. Tenderheart Bear is to Care-A-Lot what I am to Hellfire.”

You laugh, nearly spitting your lemonade all over the kitchen floor. “I know you did not just use that analogy.”

“Oh, I so did,” he says, raising his eyebrows so they’re hidden behind his bangs. Setting his cup down, he moves to stand between your thighs, palms gripping the counter on either side of you; caging you in. “And if you don’t stop dissing the Care Bears, we’re gonna have a problem.”

You’re probably meant to laugh, to shove him away or keep mocking him or just anything that keeps the mood playful. But instead your focus goes entirely to the warmth of his body pressed right up against yours. Your lips part, attempting to get words out but failing, your gaze moving between his gorgeous brown eyes to his mouth and back again.

He scoots in a little bit closer, you feel it, and you watch the way his tongue wets his lips. His eyes don’t leave your face, neither of you saying a damn thing as that unspoken something once again hangs between you.

He speaks suddenly, then, his cheeks pink. “You know, uh. You know that song I was working on?”

You nod, still utterly unable to pull words from your brain.

“It’s about you.”

Your eyes soften, your heart pounding inside your chest. “What?” you ask gently, seeking out more.

“It’s about you. I wrote a song about you. Because I can’t stop fucking thinking about you, every second of every day. And not in the way friends think about each other, this is like, so totally breaching the lines of friendship—” he rambles, no longer making eye contact, gesturing with his hands as he goes on.

“Eddie,” you interrupt, yet he keeps talking. You giggle to yourself, speaking louder this time. “Eddie!”

He stops. He almost looks… scared? Like if he stops talking, if he leaves room for you to respond, you’ll make fun of him or get mad or leave. Or all three.

“I think about you, like, every second of every day.”

“Not in the way that… friends do…?” he asks, his eyes so full of hope it makes you want to scoop him up and never let him go.

“Not in the way that friends do. Definitely not in the way that friends do. I wore this top today hoping you’d think my tits look good in it, so,” you joke, admitting some of your own vulnerability to take the pressure off of him.

And he laughs, softly at first, then a booming, wonderful sound. “Your tits do look good in that top. I thought that the second you walked in,” he grins, covering his eyes with his fingers, peeking through two of them.

You start to laugh with him, until tears are coming out of your eyes, your foreheads pressed together. His hands reach up to cup your face, noses touching.

You smile, getting out the last of your giggles as your lips nearly brush so many times. Up close he’s prettier than ever, you can’t even count how many times you’d wished you could pull him this close and kiss him breathless.

He makes your dreams come true when his mouth meets yours, so tender and warm as your lips move together. It feels like your heart stops for a moment, only to immediately restart when his fingers card themselves through your hair, deepening the kiss. You wrap your legs around his waist and he takes the hint, scooping you off of the counter and walking you over to the couch. Your head rests on the plush throw pillow, the one you know to be embroidered by one of the neighbors who has a little thing for Wayne.

His weight presses on top of you, your body dipping into the cushions beneath you. It feels surreal, kissing your best friend. It also feels right, like maybe you should’ve been doing it all along. You can hear the crickets chirping in the grass outside, the ambient summer sounds waltzing in through the window. It all makes you feel so safe, being here with him on this cozy evening. There’s no doubt in your mind that this is where you should be. That this is how things should be.

His tongue parts your lips, slipping into your mouth as a content sigh escapes you. Your hands tug his hair out of its ponytail before your fingers tangle themselves in his curls, swirling your tongue around his. He tastes like vanilla frosting, a guilty pleasure food that he’ll eat by the spoonful when no one’s looking. You know he’s always got a tub in the pantry, and it makes you smile into the kiss to think about him indulging in his secret snack.

When he finally pulls back for air, his eyes hold so much adoration. You both just stare at each other for a moment before bursting into what feels like your millionth fit of giggles.

“Eddie?” you say finally, your voice soft.

“Yeah, sweets?”

“Can I hear that song? I don’t care if it’s not done yet. It’ll be perfect, no matter what.”

“Yeah. I’ll play it for you. Come on,” he says, pressing one last peck to your lips before he’s dragging you back to his room.

You grab your forgotten cup of lemonade on the way, smirking to yourself as you do. “I’m totally telling Dustin about your Care Bear Hellfire thing, by the way.”

“No you are not!”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Every Day After

Requested Here!

Pairing: David "Deacon" Kay x fem!shy!SWAT!reader

Summary: You are Deacon's best friend, and when you're poisoned and nearly killed, his protective tendencies make an appearance as he stays by your side to help you heal.

Warnings: angst to fluff, depictions of benzene poisoning, references to drug use and distribution, mention of character death, poisoning scene loosely based on 1x19 "Source"

Word Count: 6.6k+ words

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Being shy and being a member of 20-David don’t always mix well. Some days, you can talk with them without any problems; other days, they push you a touch too far, and you’re more comfortable being quiet. But no matter what kind of day it is, your team is your family, and they have your back.

One member of the team, however, you consider to be your best friend. David “Deacon” Kay is one of the best friends you have ever had, and when he jumps in to defend you and protect you, it’s easy for the rest of your team to see why you’re so attached to him.

“Where’s Deac?” Hondo asks as he enters the locker room.

“Not here yet,” you answer after closing your locker.

“You mean you didn’t carpool? Deacon was okay letting you out of his sight for that long?”

“He’s my friend, not my probation officer,” you reply softly.

Hondo smiles at your comment before explaining, “I just mean you’re usually together. Don’t see you separated much these days. Is there a reason for that?”

“Not whatever you’re thinking,” you answer, your voice weaker than it was a moment ago. “He’s my friend.”

“Who’s your friend?” Deacon asks, using the other door to come in.

“You,” Hondo answers, winking at you. He chuckles when you turn your chin away from him and steps toward the door as he calls, “We’re rolling in twenty to serve a warrant, so do your thing.”

“You alright?” Deacon asks, placing his backpack in his locker.

You nod, reaching down to tie your laces and take a moment to breathe. Your job is stressful, so finding quiet moments whenever you can helps you be a better S.W.A.T. officer.

“Here,” Deacon says, gently knocking your hand out of the way as he ties your laces.

Standing up straight, you watch Deacon double knot your laces and ensure your safety before tapping the side of your boot. He stands and meets your eyes.

“You good?” he asks, looking into your eyes as he rolls his shoulders.

“I am. Are you?”

“Always,” Deacon answers with a smile. “When you’re around, at least.”

“Thanks,” you murmur, gesturing toward your boots.

“That was adorable,” Street says.

You look over quickly, surprised to see him standing in the doorway. His smile grows when you lock eyes with him; you immediately drop your eyes to avoid his pleased look.

“A little Cinderella-esque, but cute. We just got a tip that our guy’s gonna try to run, so we’re rolling now. Unless you two need a minute?”

“We’re good,” you reply, while Deacon says, “Let’s do it.”

Deacon spreads his hand across your upper back, sweeping his thumb over the base of your neck in a comforting motion. You know he has your back, and the rest of your team is there for you, too, but physically feeling Deacon at your side makes you feel prepared to take on anything.

Climbing into Black Betty, you sit in your usual seat beside Deacon and listen to Hondo explain the warrant and the layout of the house you’re breaching.

“This guy will be armed, but we don’t know what else he may have goin’ on in there, so stay liquid,” Hondo concludes.

Deacon nods once as Black Betty stops. You follow Deacon to the west side of the house, waiting for Hondo’s signal to shoot a flashbang through a window before using the new opening to enter the residence. Deacon moves in first, clearing the room before you cover the hallway so you can move deeper into the house.

Tapping Deacon’s shoulder, you let him know you’ve got his back before he enters a bedroom.

“Closet only,” Deacon alerts, stepping back into the hallway before you.

Something hits the floor in the closet, but before you can turn back to check, the door slings open, and someone steps out. The suspect appears to be male, but you can’t tell much about his physical composure as he slams you into the wall behind you. You raise your arms to his neck, attempting to push him off of you. He grunts as he pushes harder, raising you so your feet are off the floor. Deacon moves in your peripheral, but you use the suspect’s momentum to kick him in the torso, falling onto him as he tips back.

“You’re under arrest,” you pant, flipping him onto his stomach and removing handcuffs from your belt.

“Get down!” Deacon yells.

You don’t hesitate to obey his demand, dropping to the floor beside the suspect as someone opens fire.

“30-David, we’re taking fire in the west hallway,” Deacon radios.

Looking over, you don’t see Deacon and assume he has taken cover in one of the bedrooms.

“One suspect in custody, one armed but not visible. Likely barricaded in the back room at the northwest corner,” Deacon continues.

You feel a hand on your ankle but immediately recognize the touch. Twisting, you confirm your suspicion when you see Deacon gesture for you to stay quiet. He raises to his knees in a doorway, and you move your weapon to your back just before he pulls you into the bedroom.

“Thank you,” you whisper as he closes the door.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he replies, matching your volume. “Nobody else even got in, we’re trapped in here.”

“We need our cuffed guy. At the least, maybe we can trade him to get out.”

“I’ll get him, but if he makes noise, I’m pushing him back out.”

You nod and help Deacon pull the man you just fought with into the room. He pants as the door closes but doesn’t fight against you or Deacon.

“Yo, this dude is crazy,” he says, though you suspect he’s talking to himself. “I’m just try’na buy some dope fo’ ma cousins and he tell me to get in the attic and get the 5-0 off his trail.”

You furrow your eyebrows as you listen. The story may not make sense to everyone, but being a cop in Los Angeles quickly teaches you just what people are willing to do to score drugs.

“Did he offer to trade you drugs for getting the police away from him?” you ask.

“Sure did. ‘N’ then he dipped.”

“That’s not him in the back room, the one that was shooting at my partner?”

“Nah, that the guy who stay here. He bad, too, though. Ain’t nobody on this street mess with him.”

“Hondo,” Deacon radios.

“Are there more people coming?” you ask quickly.

“Is you a cop?” the man asks sarcastically.

You turn toward Deacon, and he nods to answer your unasked question about getting out of here. He will get you out of this, and you trust him, but you don’t want to imagine what he’d do to save you. He may be protective of you, but you care about him too and don’t want him to risk his safety, or worse, his life, to keep you out of harm’s way.

“Deac,” you whisper.

He looks at you, and you point to a loose piece of flooring beside the wall.

“This house may have a crawl space,” you explain, moving toward the corner.

You begin pulling pieces of the floor up quietly, smiling when you reach a spot without a subfloor. Deacon sees the opening above the small crawl space and drags your apprehended suspect toward it.

“I’m going to uncuff you,” Deacon says. “But there are dozens of officers waiting out there, so if you try to run you will fail and rack up more charges than you’re already facing.”

“Man, just get me outta this psycho’s house!” the man responds.

Deacon lets him go out first, not trusting him to be behind you. Helping you into the hole, Deacon waits until you’re moving toward the access panel on the south wall to slide into the opening. He pulls a few pieces of flooring back into place, hoping that if the “psycho” owner of the house manages to get in the room faster than expected, he won’t realize how you escaped.

When Deacon stands after army crawling the entire length of the house, you immediately hug him. His arms wrap around you without hesitation, glad to see you safe and out of the house. When a shot sounds from the other side of the house, Deacon wraps an arm around the back of your head and rushes across the yard, ushering you to Black Betty.

“Thanks for keeping me informed,” Hondo chides when he sees you.

“Radios don’t work when they get crushed,” Deacon argues, pointing to your destroyed radio. “You can thank this guy for that.”

“Man, my name’s Randy. Please take me to jail and don’ let these fools fin’ me,” your radio destroyer and previous enemy interjects.

“New warrant just came through,” Luca alerts. “We can hit his stash house, try to draw him out.”

“Fantastic,” you grumble.

Deacon pats your back, a reminder that you’re not alone, and the team now has an idea of what you’re up against. While Luca drives to the stash house, you take a mental note of your new injuries. For the most part, you feel fine, but you know there will be bumps and bruises tomorrow, and you’ll feel them when the adrenaline wears off.

“You need to get everything checked when we’re done. He hit you hard,” Deacon says quietly, ensuring no one else can hear.

Nodding, you agree to whatever he says. Deacon saved your life and though you don’t think you need a doctor, you’ll do anything he wants right now.

“We’ve got intel that this place is empty but stick together anyway. The call was right before we left, so it could be full now,” Hondo alerts. “We’re not here for the drugs, narcotics’ll deal with all that later, we’re just trying to catch a rat.”

“By becoming the cheese,” Street complains.

“We’ll be fine, playboy,” Luca promises.

“As long as you stick to the plan and listen,” Hondo amends. “Let’s get to it.”

You lead Deacon inside this time, using a small lock bypassing device. As you clear the first floor, you don’t see any sign of anyone using the building, and there isn’t as much as residue from drug use.

“Looks like he moved,” Deacon muses.

“Maybe our tipster made more than one call,” you agree.

“We don’t know that,” Deacon reminds you. “Stay vigilant.”

You nod, letting Deacon take the lead as you climb the stairs.

“This level looks just as empty,” Deacon says into his comm. “Second floor appears to be a code 4.”

“Something ain’t right,” Hondo replies.

“Deacon,” you call.

You don’t attempt to conceal your worry, and he turns quickly.

“Don’t move,” you add. “This place is rigged.”

“Rigged how?” he inquires.

“Hondo, you need to get everyone out,” you radio. “Watch the floor and don’t step on anything that isn’t flooring.”

“Copy that,” Hondo responds before commanding the team to exit cautiously.

“Why?” Deacon asks.

“You too,” you demand. “You need to go but be careful.”

“I’m not leaving without you.”

You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, biting it harshly as you look down. There’s a small button under your boot, and you’ve already depressed it. The moment you move off of it, something will happen. It doesn’t appear to be a landmine or any other kind of explosive, but that makes you more concerned because you don't know what it is.

“Deacon, please,” you beg, your voice a whisper as you look at him. “Just give me a minute to try to figure this out.”

“No,” he answers. “I’m going to take a few steps back, and you decide what you want to do, or we can wait for a bomb squad.”

“It’s not a bomb.”

“Then do what do you need to do. I trust you.”

You want him to leave but don’t want to be alone if this is the end. You tap the wall beside you and quickly realize that whatever this detonator is connected to is probably directly to your side, hidden between the studs.

“Can you- can you back up, like a lot?” you request. “I want to try something, but if I’m wrong, you can’t be this close.”

Deacon nods, taking about ten steps backward. He stops, his complete focus on you as he keeps a hand on his gun. Whatever happens, he’s prepared to rush toward you. Feeling helpless is something Deacon hasn’t felt in a very long time. He realizes you wouldn’t be in this position if he had done a better job protecting you and tries to find a way to take your place. He steps forward, but you raise a hand to stop him before speaking.

“I’m going to move backward, really fast,” you explain. “Last chance to leave, Deac.”

“Wait-“

You move your foot up, stepping back, your movements fast but not fast enough. Something sprays from the wall beside you and into your face. As you gasp for air, Deacon runs toward you, pulling you over his shoulders as he watches the floor. Rushing through the stash house, Deacon radios for Hondo to get an ambulance.

Bursting through the door, Deacon lowers you to the concrete and watches you. Your breaths are short gasps, and a bright red rash spreads across your chest and face. Deacon pulls your Kevlar vest over your head and tugs your shirt down, giving you more room to breathe and removing any pressure from your chest.

“What’d she get hit with?” Hondo asks, kneeling beside your head.

“I don’t know!” Deacon answers, not meaning to take out his fear on Hondo but failing to hide it. “Whatever it was came from the wall and she immediately started having trouble breathing.”

“This isn’t good,” Hondo adds. “Her airways are closing; we only have a few minutes to figure out what this is and counteract it.”

“We don’t have time for an ambulance,” Luca says. “Get in, Betty and I will get you there.”

Deacon nods and pulls you into his arms again before laying you on the floor of Black Betty and pulling your head into his lap.

“St. Stephen’s is the closest hospital,” Luca tells Street. “I need you to call ahead and give them as much information as you can. They’ll need to be ready.”

“I’m on it,” Street replies, moving into the backseat beside you and Deacon. He talks quickly and quietly to the doctors on the other end of the line, but when your gasps turn to strangled wheezes, he yells, “Just be ready!”

Luca pulls into the emergency room ambulance entrance a moment later, rushing to the back to open the doors. Several nurses take you from Deacon, put you on a gurney, and run into the hospital. Deacon runs behind them, leaving the rest of the team outside.

“How long has it been?” Hondo asks. “She only had eight minutes, tops.”

“Six since they came out,” Street answers, looking up from his watch. “If it’s too late, Deacon…”

“Will never forgive himself,” Luca finishes. “And we won’t either.”

Hondo’s phone chimes, and he looks at it before shaking his head, his jaw clenched as he makes a half-sigh, half-laugh sound. “Our guy just turned himself in. And Deac’s buddy Randy lied to them about who was in the house. They knew where we were the whole time.”

“We have to leave her?” Street asks.

“For a bit. We’ll get updates and come back later,” Luca answers. “She’ll be fine.”

As Street, Luca, and Hondo leave to return to HQ and question Randy and the original suspect, Simon, you’re surrounded by nurses and doctors. As you near the eight-minute mark, the doctors decide to run down a list of possible treatments.

“Symptoms align with benzene poisoning by inhalation,” someone comments.

“Intentional overdose?” a young woman in bright pink scrubs asks.

“Get her out of here!” a doctor snaps, glancing toward Deacon with an apologetic look.

“That explains the skin irritation, irregular heartbeats, and lung irritation may be the cause of the shortness of breath,” the first person continues. “That would have been an incredibly high, concentrated dose.”

“Whatever she got hit with was thick enough that I could see it standing five yards away,” Deacon offers.

“I’m calling it,” the chief doctor says, “benzene poisoning by inhalation. Get her on oxygen, clean her eyes and skin, and get these clothes off. We need to remove the outside traces and get her breathing regulated before we move on.”

The nurses jump to action, and Deacon steps back as you’re wheeled into a room. The doctor who sent the Barbie lookalike away opens the door to your room a few minutes later, gesturing for Deacon to step inside.

“Her breathing is regular, heart rate has returned to a stable, though slightly elevated, number, and we’re running some tests right now to check for long-term damage,” he explains.

Deacon keeps his eyes on you as he listens to the doctor, letting the steady rise and fall of your chest prove that you are okay, that you are alive. No thanks to Deacon. Immediately upon hearing that you may have long-term damage, Deacon lets himself remember that it is his fault you are in this hospital bed, on oxygen, and possibly in danger of losing your career. He should have been more careful, he thinks, done more to protect you.

“Sergeant, I’m unsure if it’s my place to say this, but you saved her life, so don’t allow yourself to think otherwise. I’ll be back in a bit to check in on her, but if you need anything, press that call button.”

“Thanks, doctor,” Deacon replies, his eyes still on you.

Deacon takes a seat in the chair beside your bed, forcefully tearing his eyes away from you to text Hondo and Luca that you’re stable but unconscious. They reply quickly, saying they’ll be back soon and asking for more updates as Deacon gets them. He hopes he won’t have to tell them about any permanent damage.

“Deac?” you mumble, your voice quiet and distorted by the oxygen mask covering your face.

“Hey,” he answers, dropping his phone into his lap as he leans toward you. “Let me tell someone you’re up.”

“Deac, wait,” you request. When he sits back down, you say, “Thank you. You saved my life.”

“I should’ve noticed that it was a trap,” Deacon argues.

“The doctors said it was benzene. That doesn’t kill you unless you have prolonged exposure or inhale an incredibly large dose. I would’ve died if you hadn’t been with me.”

“I think that’s the most you’ve ever said to me at once,” Deacon replies, hoping to lighten the mood.

“I- I’m really dizzy, Deac.”

“I’ll get the doctor,” Deacon replies, pushing the call button before he walks to the door and stops a nurse.

“Hi, I’m Doctor Grayson,” the doctor says as he enters your room, looking at your chart on a tablet. “You seem to be one lucky officer.”

“I’ve got a good team,” you answer, looking at Deacon’s hands rather than any of the faces in the room.

“Well, I understand you’re feeling dizzy and have a bit of a headache, so I’ll make this quick. Those symptoms should go away, but it may take up to a few weeks to see improvement there. Other common symptoms of benzene overdose include nausea, and the breathing difficulties you experienced was caused by lung irritation which may cause shortness of breath. Weakness is the only other symptom I’d expect to see. Since your exposure was so concentrated and delivered so quickly, I don’t think you’ll experience any of the more intense effects, but I’d like to keep you for observation for, let’s say 36 hours just to be sure we found everything.”

“Will I get completely better? Where I can go back to work at S.W.A.T.?” you whisper, even though you are terrified to learn the answer.

“Oh, I have no doubt you will be back in uniform within a month. Again, there’s only a few symptoms that may last, and at the most they should pass within a month.”

“Thank you.”

The doctor nods and hands Deacon a piece of paper before he leaves. Deacon returns to his spot beside you and looks at the paper before passing it to you.

“When you’re up for it, you’ve got some bed-bound exercises you can do to stay in fighting shape,” Deacon explains.

“Where are Hondo, Street, and Luca?” you inquire.

“They got our guy, so they went to interview him and Randy.”

“Randy lied, didn’t he?”

Deacon nods, and his jaw clenches as he realizes that Randy probably knew about the benzene trap and may have even been the one to set it up, yet let you go, knowing you were headed for a death trap.

“What happens when I get discharged?” you ask, looking at the blanket as you keep your head down.

“They’ll probably want you to take it easy for a few days, be around someone in case something happens, and then you can ease back into fieldwork. With your record and how much Hicks and Hondo trust you, you probably won’t have to wait long after you get medical clearance,” Deacon explains, smiling as he thinks about you getting back to work as soon as you can.

“I don’t have anyone,” you whisper.

Deacon doesn’t catch it, leaning closer to look at your list of exercises. When it’s time to go home, they may not let you because you live alone and don’t have any family nearby. You grow sad at the idea of going to a rehab facility or staying in the hospital longer just because you don’t have any family nearby to take care of you. Suddenly, your head begins pounding, and the room seems to spin. You raise your hands to your head, putting pressure on your eye sockets to ease the pain. Deacon’s hand jumps to your back, pressing against the top of your spine as you ride it out.

“I don’t like that,” you murmur, moving a hand to your stomach as it churns. “It’s going to be a long few weeks.”

“We’re going to make Randy and Simon pay for it, though,” Deacon whispers. “And we’re all here for you.”

You nod, and when Deacon leaves to answer a call from Hondo, your nausea worsens.

“Tell me they’re talking,” Deacon answers.

“Oh, they’re talking, just not giving us enough to put it on either one of ‘em,” Hondo answers. “I need you to do me a favor though.”

 “Anything.”

“You and Randy had some kind of connection, however brief it was. We’re thinking if you come in and tell him she didn’t make it, he’ll give something up.”

Deacon looks back into your room, but you’re turned away, curled into the fetal position, and, unknown to Deacon, fighting to keep your bearings as the dizziness causes nausea and worsens your headache.

“I’ll be there in twenty,” Deacon replies.

“Sergeant, I’ve got her test results here,” Doctor Grayson says as he walks down the hall. “Everything looks good in the long-term, so we’re just going to have to wait out the side effects. I’m going to discuss continued care with her now, would you like to join?”

“I’ve got to get down to the station, but if you’ve got a-“

“Complete list of recommendations and necessary actions,” Doctor Grayson finishes, passing Deacon a paper. “Along with a few more low impact exercises, since she is clearly ready to get back to work.”

“Thank you, doc. I’ll be back in a bit.”

Doctor Grayson watches Deacon leave before knocking and entering your room.

“Sergeant Kay had to return to the station for a moment, but I have good news for you,” he begins.

You sit up against your pillows, giving him your full attention. Your mind wants to think about Deacon, curious about what he’s doing.

“I could use some good news,” you reply.

“Your test results look good, and I see no indications of long-term damage or complications. So, once these initial symptoms pass, you should be as good as before. What symptoms are you experiencing now?”

“Headache, dizziness, and nausea. Every once in a while it feels like my chest gets tight, but the dizziness is the worst.”

Doctor Grayson nods, pressing a button on his tablet. “I think you’re going to be ready for discharge tomorrow evening, as I said originally, I’d just like to observe you a bit longer and make sure nothing changes. You will need to have whoever you will be staying with complete the discharge paperwork; having someone nearby will be crucial to your recovery and ensuring those symptoms don’t get out of hand.”

“Yeah, I, uh, I don’t have any family nearby and there’s no one I can ask to take me in for who knows how long while I recover,” you explain softly.

“We’ll discuss this further in the morning, but my team and I will make sure you have somewhere safe and comfortable to stay, I promise that. I’ll be back once more before the end of my shift, but you know where the call button is.”

While you try to fall asleep, hoping it will help you heal faster and move on from the intense dizziness and nausea, Deacon is lying to criminals and hoping it will help you heal by getting some answers.

“Randy, remember my partner? The woman you helped me get out of the house this morning after you tried to kill her?” Deacon asks.

“Yeah, nice lady, but she can kick,” Randy replies.

“She died fifteen minutes ago. From an involuntary benzene poisoning. You know what that means, Randy? That someone poisoned her, murdered her, and is going to prison for a very long time.”

“Ooh,” Hondo adds, tilting his head in disbelief. “Cop killers never do well in prison, but when it’s one of our own? A S.W.A.T. officer? You’re dealing with a whole ‘nother set of problems in this room alone.”

“Benzene ain’t kill people after the first time,” Randy argues.

Deacon slaps the table as he leans over it. “You put enough benzene in that wall to kill me, Hondo here, and yourself, and you’re the only routine drug user in here.”

“Man, she really dead?”

“She is,” Hondo answers. “And now we have to tell her family, even though we’re grieving too.”

“I only did that ‘cause Simon told me to. He said it wouldn’t hurt nobody, just confuse ‘em or some’in. I ain’t mean’a kill nobody, specially not no cop!”

Deacon nods at Hondo before they walk out of the interview room, and Randy is left to wonder why they seemed so happy after learning that he set the trap that killed you. Across town at St. Stephen’s, you do feel like you’re dying just because you’re refusing to take more than anti-inflammatory pain relievers, unwilling to use anything stronger after years as a cop.

“Sergeant Kay will be back soon,” your nurse says. “He called and asked about you a few minutes ago. You must be very close.”

“We are. My team is the only family I have, but they’re also my best friends.”

“I didn’t mean your team. How are you feeling? Is the dizziness any better or worse?”

“It’s about the same,” you answer, forgetting her first point.

“Well, that’s good, at least it’s not worsening. We weren’t expecting a miraculous recovery this quickly, but Doctor Grayson wants us to give you as much time to sleep as we can, so you won’t have many, if any, middle of the night pokes and prods from us.”

“That sounds nice,” you answer with a small smile.

“I’ll leave you to rest until your friend gets back.”

You fall asleep before Deacon returns, and when he sees you resting, he texts Hondo an update and makes himself comfortable for a night at your side. There is a folder with Deacon's name on it on the small countertop in the corner of the room. Deacon opens it and finds a list of rehabilitation centers and a note that you can’t go home alone tomorrow before he decides to do something while you sleep. Deacon has been restless since the moment you alerted him to the traps set in the storehouse, but he finally has something to do that will help you.

“Excuse me,” he says, approaching the nurses’ station with a kind smile. “I’m Deacon Kay, I came in with-“

“My favorite patient,” the nurse finishes. “What can I do for you, Sergeant?”

“Doctor Grayson left this list of rehab clinics for me, but I’d like to take her home with me tomorrow. I don’t feel right sending her somewhere when I’ve got plenty of room.”

“And I have no doubt you will attend to her no matter what. If you fill out the discharge forms, she’s free to go with you when the doctor signs off. Doctor Grayson comes in at four, so he’ll be the one signing off.”

Deacon accepts the clipboard holding the discharge paperwork and takes it back to your room to complete it. The nurses watch him with smiles, able to tell that he’s more than a friend and protective as more than a teammate, even if he’s unwilling to admit it.

You whimper in your sleep, pressing your face into the cushion to relieve your headache. Deacon moves a hand onto your bed, only pulling it away from your side to flip to the next page of paperwork.

“When did you get back?” you ask into the pillow with your eyes closed.

“Not long ago. How are you feeling?” Deacon replies, smiling when you take his hand.

“The headache is getting worse.”

Deacon brushes his thumb over his knuckles as you curl tighter around the pillow.

“I’m sorry,” Deacon whispers.

“It’s not your fault, Deac. You saved my life,” you reply.

“Shouldn’t have endangered it.”

“Deacon-“

You get dizzy before you can say anything else, gently squeezing Deacon’s hand as you clamp your eyes shut. Deacon stands, laying his other hand on your shoulder as you wait for the dizziness to pass. You know now to expect the nausea that follows, but each time it happens, the nausea is less intense.

“Do you think it’ll really take weeks to feel better?”

“No,” Deacon answers. “You’re strong – and stubborn – so you’ll fight to get back in fighting shape.”

“It hurts.”

Deacon frowns but doesn’t apologize again, though he’s blaming himself for everything. Maybe having a soft spot for you, as the team so lovingly puts it, made him blind to certain dangers of working together. He trusts you and would do anything to protect you from the risks of being a S.W.A.T. officer; now, he wonders if being distracted by you made him stop thinking about what he could do for you.

“You should go home,” you say. “It’s getting late.”

“I’m not leaving you. I’ll be right here when you wake up, or if you want to stay awake.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Deacon doesn’t add that despite how much he wants to, he needs to stay by your side and do what he couldn’t do earlier today: protect you and be there for you through all this pain and recovery.

When you wake again, the sun is up, and Deacon is no longer in your room. You can hear him talking, though, and when the door opens, he steps inside with Doctor Grayson.

“Good morning,” Doctor Grayson greets. “Are you ready to get out of here?”

Shrugging, you don’t want to bring up how sad you are to go spend the next few weeks alone in a rehab facility, which is arguably no better than a hospital.

“You did well last night, so I’m comfortable sending you home now, given that your discharge situation has changed.”

“It has?” you ask, looking at Deacon rather than the doctor.

“I’m taking you to my house,” Deacon explains. “Not for you, for Hondo. He needs hourly updates and none of the rehab places do that.”

You duck your chin, hiding from Deacon’s teasing as you smile. Part of you wants to insist Deacon doesn’t have to do this, but the other part desperately wants it.

“Are you sure?” you whisper.

“Positive.”

Deacon sets a backpack on your bed, gently taps your leg, and walks out to complete the discharge. You open the bag and smile when you see some of your clothes and a blanket. Standing carefully, you change into the clothes and wait at the edge of the bed for Deacon to return.

“Let’s go,” Deacon murmurs as he takes your hands.

Pulling your backpack over his shoulder, Deacon keeps a hand in yours as he walks beside your wheelchair. When you reach the hospital entrance, Deacon’s car is waiting, and he helps you into the passenger seat before setting your bag in the back and getting inside.

You close your eyes, your stomach churning and your head spinning as the car moves. Deacon offers a hand over the console, and you hold it as he drives through Los Angeles and to his house. Releasing a shaky breath as he parks, you squeeze his hand in thanks.

“It’s going to be a long few weeks for you,” you mumble.

“You’re wrong, but we’re not worrying about me. Our top priority is you and getting you healthy again. That means that you need to talk to me, even if you don’t want to, okay?”

You nod, and Deacon smiles as he argues, “That’s not talking.”

He gives you a break from his teasing and helps you inside before carrying a few bags in from the car. You recognize them and realize he must have gone to your place last night to get everything you’ll need over the next few weeks.

“Deac, why’d you go back to the station yesterday?” you ask, reclining on his guest bed while he unpacks your bags.

He points to the water bottle beside the bed, waiting until you start drinking to say, “Hondo had an idea to flip Randy, and it worked. He gave up his boss, and they found enough evidence to charge both of them with a long list of felony charges.”

“What was his plan?” Deacon doesn’t answer, so you ask, “You told him I died?”

“Yeah,” Deacon says softly.

You nod before you move to the edge of the bed. Deacon rushes to your side as you stand and wobble slightly. As he grips your arms, you lean your head against his shoulder, taking deep breaths as your heartbeat pounds in your ears.

“Do you still get nauseous after this happens?” Deacon whispers, rubbing his hands over your shoulders.

“No,” you reply. “That passed after the first few hours. Now I just have a headache that won’t go away and get really dizzy. It’s random, so I don’t know when to expect it.”

Deacon nods and makes a mental note to keep a very close eye on you, especially when you’re up and moving around. Deacon's heart breaks as he watches you be affected by something he should have never let happen. Watching you be poisoned, being helpless in the hospital, and feeling like he can’t do enough to help you is weighing on Deacon, but he can’t worry about himself when you’re struggling because of him.

“Stop,” you demand, so softly that Deacon barely hears it.

“Stop what?” he asks.

“You’re blaming yourself. I could tell from the moment you turned around in that house. There’s nothing you could have done, Deacon, to keep this from happening, but you saved my life. So, please stop blaming yourself and thinking about what you could’ve done differently.”

Deacon thinks about everything you said, and his mind lingers on how your shyness was nowhere to be seen as you asked him to stop blaming himself. You read him with no effort, and the realization makes him smile.

“I’ll try. But only if you promise to talk to me, really talk to me, and let me know what’s going on,” Deacon offers.

“Deal. Right now, the floor is kind of spinning, but I need to walk around because everything is stiff.”

“I got you,” Deacon murmurs, letting you hold onto him as you walk around his house. You know he means it in more than the obvious way; he’s always had you and always will.

“Why’d you stay?” you ask. “In the hospital, I mean. And then you brought me here. If you did it just because you blame yourself-“

“Not at all. I was blaming myself, you’re right about that, but I did this because I care about you. That soft spot that the guys tease me about… that’s you. So, when I get overbearing and protective and everything else you’re going to see over the next few weeks, just know that it’s because I care about you.”

“I’m your soft spot? Because we’re friends?”

Deacon smiles, letting you lead him toward the patio door. “Something like that.”

Your breathing catches, and you stop to take a few shaky breaths before returning to your normal breathing patterns. Deacon rubs his hand up and down your spine as he waits, hovering nervously beside you.

“The headache is a little better,” you tell him. “Either walking around or your touch is curing me.”

“Why not both?”

You smile before looking away from Deacon. He walks you back to the bedroom and digs through one of your bags before handing you a piece of paper. While you look at the exercises depicted on the therapy list, you lean back against the pillows, tired and experiencing the worst headache of your life.

“Don’t rush anything,” Deacon says. “You’re already getting better, but don’t risk that trying to heal on your schedule.”

“What does ‘something like that’ mean?” you murmur. “About why we’re friends and I’m your soft spot.”

“It means that you’re my soft spot because we’re friends for now.”

“You don’t want to be friends forever?”

Deacon chuckles and sits on the edge of the bed as he answers, “Not really. I’ve always wanted more.”

You sit up quickly and wince in pain. You don’t hesitate before asking, “You do?”

“Are you okay?” You shrug, and Deacon answers, “Yeah. You’re my friend, but, c’mon, you couldn’t tell?”

“I thought you were just being nice, protecting me because we’re teammates.”

“That’s part of it. But even if you left S.W.A.T. today, I’d still be right here.”

“If I didn’t know you, I’d think that’s why you’re so upset,” you muse. “But you’re just a great man.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

You shake your head and look away from Deacon.

“Could we- could we try to be more? After I’m back in fighting shape?”

Deacon smiles, leaning closer to you as he promises, “Yes. Just tell me when.”

You lean back, huffing when your headache worsens suddenly.

“I thought the Hondo-induced headaches were bad, but this makes them seem easy.”

“I’m telling Hondo you said that.”

“No, you aren’t. You know I’m shy and injured.”

“You haven’t been acting very shy.”

“Because I’m disoriented and have a crush on you,” you mumble as you drift to sleep.

“I’ll be right here when you wake,” Deacon whispers.

“And every day after?”

“And every day after,” he promises, smiling as you fall into a restful sleep.

Deacon has no doubt you’ll be back to yourself in a few days, meaning his advances will make you shy, but, for now, he’s happy waiting on you hand and foot, doing everything he can to help and keep you comfortable.

[hellfirecvnt]

Light my Fire

Lee Russell x Fem!Reader pt. 5

Summary: Your plan goes awry. Tensions are high. What's everybody gonna do about it? Ooh.

Warnings: sex, edging, creampie, quickie, crime makes him horny, low-key fluff at the end (idk how to end stories????)

Notes: EW this chapter is so short, but it's only bc this is the end of this series and I'm about to do another Lee Russell series I'm really excited about. Stay tuned!

Read part one here. // Part two here. // Part three here. // Part four here.

The night air is brisk as you park your car in the far-off lot behind the school. You're swift and careful sneaking inside, unseen. You beeline straight for the principal's office where Neal and Lee wait for you.

"'Bout fuckin' time, Y/L/N," Gamby barks, holding the door for you and scanning the surroundings as if you've been followed. You haven't. That's just how he is.

"Shut up, I forgot we were even doing this until Lee texted me."

"Both of you shut up, this is serious," Lee takes a seat at the desk and Gamby enviously joins him on the other side as if an audience of just you is enough to require them to validate their seniority.

"Why're you so serious? We're just scaring her a little," you laugh, unable to imagine anything going wrong with a plan that's meant to knock a vase or two over.

"Might have something to do with it being a felony." Neal arches his brows.

"You know what else is a felony? Doing hallucinogens on the school campus during a football game. You're already in it, Gamby. I hope you look good in orange," you taunt, earning a pair of narrow eyes from him.

"Will you two fuck sticks shut up for five goddamn seconds?!" Lee bursts, his voice hitting that cracked note it does when he's stressed. You and Gamby look at each other, confused. It seems the two of you have underestimated how much pressure Lee is holding right now.

"Damn, dude. It's alright, calm down." You place a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Let's just get in there and get out. Easy." Your pep talk seems to do the trick and all three of you file out to the bus lanes to hop in a rented white van.

The trip is silent and eerily long. You and Neal exchange tense glances, but Lee stays stone-focused on the road. He's not even driving, Gamby is. Lee's just unwavering his attention from the asphalt, deep in thought, you assume.

The van pulls up to a house in a small neighborhood, stopping out front. It's a little bold for your tastes, but you don't plan to be in there long anyways.

"Oh shit, is this where she lives?" You ask.

“What a shit-hole.” Neal adds, laughing.

"This is my house, motherfucker." Lee looks at him with wide, angry eyes. "It’s a mid-century sea ranch!"

"It's a... It's a great sea ranch, Lee." You attempt to talk down his stress, but he just shakes his head as he climbs out of the van, promising to be back after he grabs something from inside. When he comes back, his hands seem empty, but you don't question it.

The act continues and Neal pulls the large rental van into the nearby cul-de-sac and parks, turning off the headlights. You stare out the window, scanning for any movement inside the house.

"Looks still to me," you whisper.

"She's gonna be at that game all night," Neal mumbles, unbuckling his seatbelt.

The three of you pile out of the van quietly and make your way up to her back porch. Neal begins to wrap his tie around his fist.

"Are you seriously gonna punch out that window?" You ask, concerned about the risk factor. Gamby only raises his eyebrows.

"Oh, fuck you. No you're not," Lee's laughter is cut off by the shattering sound of a small window in Dr. Brown's back door.

"Oh, shit!" You and Lee exclaim at the same time.

"Bitches first." Neal holds out his arm, welcoming Lee inside. The three of you scramble to find things of value to knock around and stage a thorough break-in. Suddenly, you hear the sound of a loud crash.

"A little much, Lee, don't you think?" You hiss, annoyed by the monstrous volume of the crash.

"Gamby broke the fuckin' window," he protests.

"Yeah, so we could get in. It's a fake robbery, you think they're not gonna break a fucking window?" Neal's sass only amplifies Lee's.

"Darlin', smash this mug and we'll leave right now, I promise." The look on his face tells you loud and clear that he's lying to you.

"You're a lying piece of shit, Mr. Russell," you huff and he shrugs with a "shy" grin.

"And yet, you're gonna do whatever I say, aren't you?" His eyes twinkle and you know he's right. Your expression is one of defiance as you snatch the mug from his hands and slam it on the ground. The tiny shards of porcelain explode in every direction against the polished hardwood floor.

"Well, look at you, hardened criminal." Lee grins, breaking out into a damn near rampage. Gamby seems to have caught whatever enraged bug bit Lee and the two of them tear through the house like maniacs.

"Oh, no..." You stare in horror as the two buffoons tear Belinda's home to shreds. You're watching Neal in horror as he wrecks her china cabinet. The only thing that can tear your eyes away from the mess is the unmistakable stench of burning synthetic fabric. "Lee?!"

"Don't look at me like that, sweetheart. We need her gone," he says with an emotionless face. He tilts his head to the side, still looking at you as the flames get higher. It's like he's someone else for just a second, and while you know you should be off-put and even scared, you can't stand how much you want him right now. The two of you are frozen in a stare-off as the house fills with toxic black smoke. Gamby's yelling something, but everything's muffled as all your attention belongs to Lee.

"Y/N, come on!" He screams one more time before cursing aloud and grabbing your arm. Neal drags you out of the burning abode and shoves you out the back door onto the lawn where you land with a thud, only then being knocked out of your lusty trance. Gamby hacks and coughs from the amount of smoke that filled his lungs while he waited for you to get out of the house.

"Neal?! What the fuck? Where's Lee?" You scramble to your feet, blackened by the tarish nature of the soot. You look around frantically for your third other superior, but he's nowhere to be found. "Gamby!" You snap at him, demanding answers.

"Hey, motherfucker. Let's not scream each other's names out here while the place is burning down," Lee appears from the bushes like some sort of Halloween trick. You roll your eyes, relieved to see him.

"Let's get the fuck out of here!" You whisper harshly, leading the men to the van. The drive back to the school is silent. You're unsure what everyone else is feeling now that the heat of the moment has cooled. Have you all gone too far? Did anyone see you? Your mind races with anxiety. You've just been an accessory to arson just because the man behind the lighter looks a little too good in his silly patterned suits.

The van pulls into the school lot and Gamby drops the two of you off by your cars.

"I'm gonna... Get this thing off the road. Return it tomorrow." Neal drives off, leaving the two of you alone in the parking lot. Mr. Gamby is clearly distressed and dissociating from the reality of what he was just a part of, but Lee? Lee's calm. More calm than you've ever seen him. So calm, you wonder if it's an act or if he truly did find that much release and relaxation in destroying another person's home for his own gain. It's disgusting behavior, and the way he's carrying it makes your knees weak.

Lee Russell looks you up and down with a flat face. His lack of readability makes you nervous and excited. His eyes trail back up your body and to your eyes, inviting you to follow him inside the dark, locked school. You can barely stifle an excited squeal as you trail happily behind him. He's uncharacteristically silent, bubbling at the brim with adrenaline and desire. The feeling of conquering his enemy is almost as orgasmic as fucking you senseless in the principal's office.

He opens the door and you giddily trot inside, taken aback by how dark it is in here at night. You're attempting to let your eyes adjust when you hear the door close and feel Lee's nimble, needy hands groping roughly at your chest from behind.

"You looked a little scared back there, darlin'." He kisses and nips at your neck, whispering with warm breath in your ear.

"Lee, we could get in so much trouble," you speak through small gasps.

"But we won't," he chuckles against your skin, tightening his grip around your breasts. "I'm fucking invincible." He suddenly spins you around, almost like dancing, before he guides you backward toward the desk, laying you back on it so he can lift your legs around his waist. Neither of you pays attention to any of the small ornaments and stationary that fall off in the process.

He crashes his soft, balmed lips against yours, moving his head back and forth in sync with yours. It was unclear to you until now how touch-starved you were before he had his hands on you so roughly, never mind having him only a few days ago.

"Lee-" you huff his name, hoping to speed this heated affair along so you can feel him inside you.

"Shh, sweetheart," he whispers, placing a thumb on your pouting lips. "Let me savor this." He tilts his head back, hands gripping your waist, pulling your clothed cunt to his growing erection straining against his slacks. You lie back on the desk, accepting each of his sexual prods and squeezes. Primal groans of pleasure rumble lowly from his chest as he slides his palms up and down your body, studying every inch of you, mesmerized.

It feels like he's toying with you forever. Pressing your breasts together and slipping his hands under your bra. He catches you off guard when he finally slips a hand up your skirt and skillfully slips your lace and silk panties off your legs. You gasp, suddenly fully exposed to him yet again.

"I really don't give a shit if they bring in a new principal as long as I've got a claim on this tight fucking pussy of yours," he sighs, jaw hanging slack as he slips a well-manicured finger up and down your throbbing clit. "Fuckin' Christ."

You release a string of hearty moans, desperate for more and more. He smiles a big, white smile as he plays you like an instrument, filling the room with the sounds of your pleasure. Lee's lips part as he focuses intently on his fingers scissoring inside you, bringing you closer and closer to your climax. Just as it seems you're going to give, he pulls away without so much as a kiss.

"Lee!" You whine, quickly replacing his fingers with your own. That's not part of his plan, though. He grabs your wrists and holds them in front of you, staring into your face in the very dimly lit office room. He holds your wrists in place and watches your shifting, desperate face. "Please!" You arch your back, attempting to run against him like you're in heat, but he doesn't let you reach. Your climax quickly dwindles away and your knees feel like they're made of gelatin.

"Shhh," he whispers, but it turns into a taunting chuckle. He's laughing at you. Laughing at the puddle of a woman you turn into for him. He truly feels invincible. "Do you want it, sweetheart?" He asks with the same emotionless face and tilted head he had in Belinda's burning home.

"I need it, Lee. Please," you moan, hoping so badly this is finally it. Lee reaches for his belt and unfastens the metal and leather painstakingly slowly.

"God, look at you, begging for me to fuck you after what you helped me do." He frees his throbbing cock, positioning his pre-cum soaked tip at your awaiting cunt. He hovers there, hanging his mouth open and tilting his chin up as he looks down at you, taunting. "So close..."

You do all you can to meet him halfway, to feel him inside you, and to dismiss this erotic display of dominance. Lee slaps the head against your sensitive slit a few times, collecting your arousal with his before sinking his tip into you. You release a filthy, guttural moan that makes him shudder as he slips in all the way to his hilt.

"Fucking, god damn it," he groans. "All I've been fucking thinking about..." He slowly slides out, nearly withdrawing completely, but then he slams his hips against yours. This brutal thrust defines his rhythm and he begins to fuck you like he hates you. His bucking hips slam into you hard and fast as ravenous moans pour from his lips.

"You're... Fucking insane," you giggle between rough thrusts.

"This pussy's fucking insane." Lee quickens his pace, throwing his head back in ecstasy. He quickly removes himself from you, only to yank you off the desk and spin you around. Once you're facing the desk, he bends you over and roughly lifts your pencil skirt to expose your round ass. He repositions himself at your pussy and slams his way in. The room is an echo chamber of the two of you expressing your pleasure through loud, sensual moans.

"Lee!" You gasp, arching your back to better present yourself to him. He fucks rhythmically as you're quickly pushed closer and closer to your orgasm.

"Come on, darlin'," he whispers, chasing his own high. After a few more minutes, a vulnerable groan escapes Lee's lips, and the two of you climax at nearly the same time. He finishes inside you as you flood his desk and pants. The two of you hold still for a moment before he slowly slips out of your sensitive entrance and allows the rest of the mixture of cum to pour out of you.

"Lee... That was-"

"You're coming home with me tonight, Y/N." Lee smiles warmly, almost as if he's waiting for you to accept or decline. You're still fuzzy-brained and dripping with the evidence of his violations.

"Oh, yeah. I'd, um, love to," you accept shyly, confused and aroused by this new genre of dominance from him. Lee stands next to you where you lie face down on his desk, knees buckled beneath you. He gently strokes your hair as he speaks.

"I don't wanna go scaring you off or anything, but" he pulls your hair away from your face. "We don't have to call this anything-"

"I wanna call it something," you say, quickly. He grins.

"I don't care what you wanna call it. I'm calling you mine."

End.

•••••

Taglist: @therest-stillunwritten // @its-in-the-woods // @justme12200 // @sixx-writes // @littlenosoul // @itsyellow // @blackwoodtree // @hiddlebatchedloki // @ivyinthesun // @alastorsw1f3 // @sexy-monster-fucker // @writtenbyhollywood //

[heartz4shauna]

thinking about art as ur hunger games mentor.. (is this too niche)

it was unexpected, obviously, your name being called at the reaping. “it could be anyone,” your mother told you, trying to soothe your nerves. and of course that anyone had to be you.

you let out a sound of discomfort as you walked out of the rows and rows of girls, your grey dress suddenly feeling too tight on you and laces of your boots coming undone, you climbed up the stairs onto the makeshift stage where miss effie trinket stood, her extravagant outfit, covered in rhinestones and feathers, shining under the hot sun.

you couldn’t really process anything else that happened up until effie escorted you and the poor boy chosen from your district into the justice building.

being from district five, you had little survival skills. sure, you knew what to look out for if there was an electrical fire, but that was about it. you hoped and prayed that you had a good mentor and well…

art donaldson was popular to say the least. strutting around the town square without a care in the world as if he wasn’t a victor.

he worked in the power plant alongside your father. which was odd, you thought. he’s a victor, he lives in the victor village, he shouldn’t need to work. and you’re right. he doesn’t. he does it out of “the kindness of his heart.”

you didn’t believe that. you’ve peeked in the windows and seen him, bent over on rails talking to some poor girl like she’s not really there.

you caught her outside the plant one day just as she was about to go in, “how often does art come in?” you asked her and she replied sighing, “maybe twice a week? he talks to a few girls and then dips. barely works.”

and just your luck. he was assigned to be your mentor. yay. you and the other tribute got a minute or two alone with close family before being introduced to your mentors.

he knocked on the door to the small room near the entrance of the building. he poked his head into the room and saw you sitting on a velvet couch looking awfully glum. he entered the room and walked over to you. he wore

“hi, i’m Art. i was assigned to be your mentor,” he told you, looking down at you with a slight smile on his face. you looked up at him and nodded, the sun shining in through one of the windows and lighting up his almost golden hair. “i wasn’t told a lot about you, d’you wanna tell me about yourself?”

so, you told him your name, when your birthday was, which he did the calculations to and it turns out you’re 18, what you can do and what you can’t. also what would probably be helpful to you in the arena.

he quietly jotted most things that you said, frankly they were all summarised, on a piece of paper he had in his pocket. you assumed it was for girl’s addresses.

“well, it’s nice to meet you. i can tell we’re gonna get along,” he said, slipping the paper into his pocket again. he turned and was about to leave the room when you called out to him, “wait! you should.. probably tell me about yourself, too, you know.”

he chuckled to himself and plopped down on the couch, next to you. “where to begin?” he breathed out, “my name’s Art Donaldson. i’m 27 years old, i was the victor of the 59th hunger games at 16 years old.”

“wow. must’ve gotten lucky, then,” you theorised to which he nodded. “i was popular with the capitol. thanks to my ravishing good lucks and charming personality,” he jested with a laugh.

“but, seriously. how did you win?” he sighed at the question, upset with the answer he had to give you. “i used my ‘ravishing good looks and charming personality’ to win over the capitol. i was sent things in the arena that helped me to keep going. i,” he let out another sigh, “i wasn’t very skilful. i almost waited out the entire game, hiding up somewhere. our district isn’t poor, per se, but it’s poor, victor-wise, skill-wise.”

you nodded, having acknowledged the amount of tributes from your district coming home was very little.

he cleared his throat and tried to calm your nerves as he could see the look on your face was not one of excitement, “but, hey. i’ll try to help you as best i can in that arena. i’ll train you good, i promise.”

ugh i hate this. let me know if i should continue or nah okay ty bye

[ikatella]

Russian roulette

Dabi x reader

4.4k words

Noncon, stalking, gun kink, fear kink, breeding kink, reader is immune to Dabi's quirk

Summary:

When a civilian fails to die to his quirk, Dabi quickly finds himself both pissed off and obsessed. He needs to make you feel fear, to drag you down to his level, or else the thought of you threatens to suffocate him. He soon finds just the way to do so.

You have a shadow and you don’t realize it, not yet at least. Cerulean eyes watch you from outside your window as you sleep peacefully.

You don’t even bother to close the curtains, a naive little thing, seemingly blissfully unaware of the fact that people like him exist. Bad men who are all too eager to devour a pretty little thing like you whole, to consume you entirely.

Maybe that was why Dabi was so obsessed with you, couldn’t get enough of you. He first came across you during a league attack in a busy part of the city, you were just a normal civilian caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Maybe you could have gotten away alright, but you stayed and attempted to stick up for the weak sniveling nobody that Dabi was ready to reduce to ash. His lip curls into a sneer as he thinks of how heroic you seemed to be, your own knees knocking together in fear, your body shaking like a leaf but still, you stood your ground. He was ready to make quick work of you, but to his own disappointment and surprise, his flames didn’t so much as scorch you. A fire resistance quirk?

Dabi didn’t like that, he didn’t like being caught off guard, he didn’t like being shown up in any way, and he didn’t like feeling like he was powerless against someone. Especially not a weak little thing like you. Before he could do anything else, before he could wring you by the neck as he would have, heroes diverged on the scene and the league had to concede this fight and escape.

Ever since then, he couldn’t get you out of his mind. The thoughts of you threatening to suffocate him like a blanket over a fire, depriving it of oxygen until the flame snuffs out. No, he wouldn’t let an insignificant person like you have this sort of control over his mind. It was easy enough to find you again, he memorized your schedule, watching your every move, slowly developing an obsession.

It would be easy to kill you, his quirk be damned, he could strangle you, he could cut you up til you bleed out, there are more ways to kill at his disposal but where was the fun in that? No, he wanted to knock you down to his level, grab you by the neck roughly and pull you to hell with him, show you that you should fear him.

Besides, killing you would be such a waste. You are admittedly attractive, soft, and cute, almost innocent. So naive to the fact that a villain has been stalking your every move. You sleep soundly, your hair spilling across your pillow, your nipples poking through the thin fabric of your nightgown. He knows you’ll be so much cuter when you’re looking at him in fear, trembling in his grasp.

Just the thought of the things he wants to do to you has his cock hardening in his pants and he hisses at the tension. Delicate breaths fall from your soft-looking lips, fuck he wants to destroy you in the best possible way.

He doesn’t want to wait any longer, he slid your window up with ease, not for the first time. He broke in before while you weren’t home, tsking at the fact that you didn’t even bother to keep your bedroom window locked. Oh, he was gonna have so much fun showing you why you should be more fearful. He had rummaged around your home, taking note of all the cute plushies and decor you kept, went through your underwear drawer, and cooed at your lacy panties, tempted to steal a pair.

This time he slides the window up silently, moving like a shadow as he pulls himself up, climbing into your room, his suffocating presence invading your space. He knows his quirk won’t harm you but if his demeanor alone isn’t enough to intimidate you into submission, he has other ways, his hand on the cold hilt of the revolver in his pocket.

You’re immune to his fire, but you wouldn’t be immune to a bullet to the head. Not that he plans to kill you, not now when there are more fun ways to get you to cry and beg for his mercy. Regardless, it could help keep you in line if you think of acting up.

He creeps over to where you sleep peacefully, not yet aware of the danger. His tall frame looms over your resting form, and he lifts one knee onto the bed, the mattress creaking under the sudden shift in weight.

You must be a light sleeper because your eyes open immediately, snapping up his face as they widen in shock. He senses what your next move will be because his rough and warm hand quickly covers your mouth, smothering your sounds.

“Shhh shhhh, don’t scream, baby.” Dabi speaks in a low voice, with a dangerous glint in his eyes.”This is your only warning.” He says darkly.

He thinks he would like the sounds of your screams very much but this makes things easier for him, he plans to take his time with you, and he doesn’t want anyone getting in his way.

He leans over you, the sheets rustling at the slight movement, and you look up at him, eyes wide with unbridled fear. Fuck, what a beautiful sight to him. Seeing the terror on your face causes Dabi’s heart to race, his excitement rising.

“I won’t hurt you too badly if you behave. Be good for me and I'll make you feel good.” His voice is quiet and rough, as he speaks.

You look up into his eyes, you see the intensity in his eyes, the obsession, and desire. There’s no incertitude to what he wants, you know what he means and what he plans to do. You recognize him as a member of the infamous League of villains, you remember him from the villain attack not too long ago. Your head is reeling, still trying to process everything right now.

When he feels certain you won’t scream, he removes his hand from your mouth, instead going to grip your chin, holding your head in place. You feel your pulse quicken, the anxiety causing your stomach to rise. He smells of smoke and fire, his presence in your bed is oppressive.

As he leans in further, his lips curled into a devious smirk, you feel the panic in you rising, you act suddenly, smacking his hand away and flinching away. In a quick movement, before he can even react, you nimbly flee from the bed, quick on your feet.

You scramble for the bedroom door, your feet moving across the cold wooden floor with haste.

Dabi swears under his breath as you dart through the hallway, towards the living room. You’re not sure what you’re going to do, maybe flee out the front door, or call out for one of your neighbors? You just know you have the gut instinct to run.

Before you can do anything though, you feel a gust of wind behind you and a strong arm suddenly snakes around your waist, pulling your feet up off the ground. Dabi was able to make it to you in quick strides, his long legs moving quicker than you could hope to outrun.

He pulls your body to his chest, holding you against him tight as you feel his warmth, his arms around your waist are iron-clad.

“No!” You shout as you fight against his hold, scrambling for any purchase, any way to break free.

“Oh yes, baby.” He says darkly in your ear, breathing into your neck heavily as he pulls you back away from the front door, your feet dragging across the floor helplessly.

Chasing you, listening to you protest and try to fight against him has his cock throbbing. Still though, as much as a turn-on it is, he can’t have you trying to escape on him. If you somehow did manage to get someone else’s attention, that would be more of a hassle, someone else he would have to kill, and he doesn’t want to complicate things right now.

You feel his erection along your backside and it makes your heart beat so hard it feels as if it’s going to burst. Dabi wasn’t going to stop until his cock was stuffed inside you.

One hand goes to tweak one of your nipples through the fabric of your gown and you gasp at the sensation, the other hand wraps around your neck, heating up against your skin. Still though, no matter how high he seems to turn up the heat, your smooth, soft skin is completely unaffected.

“That little quirk of yours pisses me off so bad.” He says into your ear, his voice rough. “Oh it was over for you the moment you thought you could stand up to me, like I wouldn’t come back for you.” He holds you in place tightly, his voice now bordering on something dangerous as the hand on your neck reaches for his pocket.

“Luckily there’s more ways to hurt someone other than with quirks.” You hear him say this as you feel him press something cold and metallic to your jaw. A gun. He has a gun pressed to you. Your vision starts to blur as you shake uncontrollably, fear overwhelming you right now as your breath quickens. “Don’t worry baby, luckily for you I like you.” His hand continues to fondle your tits through your dress as he groans into your ear, his teeth nipping the skin there. “And as I said, if you behave I won’t hurt you.”

He drags you to the couch, your body now limp, not wanting to piss him off with a revolver pressed to your skull. He chuckles as the fight leaves your body, pushing you roughly down onto the suede fabric and settling himself in between your legs, the gun still in his hands. The couch is soft under you, and it creaks as Dabi clambers over top of you. Your chest is rising and falling quickly with each panicked breath.

“You’re so cute when you look up at me like that, all fearful. So adorable, really.” His eyes meet yours and you can see the mirth and dark pleasure he’s taking in your fear right now, drinking it in. ”But I do think you need to be punished for trying to run, don’t you agree, baby?”

As he says this he presses the barrel of the gun to your chest, slowly running it down the middle of your torso, you feel the cool metal through your nightgown.

“Wait please don’t-” You protest in a trembling voice as your legs shake but Dabi gently shushes you.

“I’m not going to shoot you…hopefully not at least.” He says with a quiet and menacing laugh. He kisses your exposed knee where your skirt has risen up your thighs. “Open up your legs for me, baby.” He says in a soft, husky voice. You obey without protests, not wanting to anger him.

His hands are oh so warm, and rough against your smooth skin as he slides your dress up your thighs, the fabric bunching around your waist. He coos at the sight of your lacy white panties, with a cute little bow on the top.

“Fuck, were you expecting me, doll?” He says with a throaty groan. He doesn't fail to notice the wet spot forming there either. He presses a finger to spot, pressing the fabric against your puffy lips as your hips nearly buck at the sensation.”You’re so sensitive down here, you getting wet for me, baby? For me holding you down and pressing a gun to you?”

You shake your head in protest but he barks a laugh, like he sees right through you. In truth, the fear you feel has you dripping, as much as you wish you weren’t.

He trails the gun lower and lower, until it’s resting against your pelvic bone. He continues to bite the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he speaks. “You know what I’m gonna do with this gun?” He asks quietly, when you shake your head nervously, he opens up the barrel of the revolver, and removes all the bullets, all but one, placing the rest in his jacket pocket. He spins the barrel and presses it against your wet spot.”I’m gonna fuck you with it.” He says in a simple but lust-filled voice.

“Wait- wait please-” You try to plead, as you try to rise up on your elbows, your anxiety spiking again but he silences you with a finger pressed to your lips, quietly shushing you once again.

“Begging won’t stop me, doll. Besides, I think you’ll enjoy this as much as I will.” He says, gripping your shoulder and pressing you back into the couch.

He pulls your lacy underwear to the sight, his cock twitching in his pants at the sight of your wet, peach-like lips. He presses the cold barrel to your clit and holds it there, and you jolt at the feeling of cold metal against it. He begins to rub against it slightly, an up and down motion that has you letting out a small gasp. “Keep making those noises, baby.” He speaks as he moves the gun lower, pressing it against the opening of your hole.

His other hand grips your hip tighter, making sure to keep you in place as he slowly presses the tip of the gun inside. You let out another shaky noise as it enters your unstretched pussy. He starts out slow, pushing it in an inch and pulling it out, pushing it in another inch with the next motion of his hand, as he slowly works you open.

The metal is cold, as it presses against your gummy walls with each back and forth motion. You bite your lips to try and stifle the whimpers you’re making.

“I can tell how hard you’re clenching around my gun, baby, look how good you’re being for me right now.” He says with a groan. You can see his cock straining against his pants, and as he continues to slowly fuck you with the gun, he undoes his belt with one hand, pulling his cock free.

As the metal glints in the low lighting, you can see the piercings he has running up and down his cock. He hisses at the feeling as he takes himself in his hand, jerking his cock slowly in time with his movements with the gun.

He moans over you at the feeling, at the sight of your pretty cunt clenching around the weapon, as you tremble from a mixture of fear and pleasure. He needs more of your fear, needs it like he needs to breathe, needs to see the terror in your eyes.

“I’m gonna pull the trigger.” He says simply, as he watches with delight as your eyes fill with fear once again.

“No, don't! You’ll kill me!” You can only imagine the slow painful death you’d have if he shot you right now, as you plead with him, but he doesn’t listen, chuckling darkly. His eyes are filled with hunger as he plays with his cock, getting off to your alarm and fear.

“Shhhh, relax baby, there’s only one bullet in the chamber, let's take a gamble, eh?” He grips you tighter, trying to control your squirming. You weren’t getting away from him, not ever. His index finger moves to the trigger as you continue to panic. He pulls the trigger back slowly.

A soft click sounds through the room.

You clench around the gun, a moan leaving your lips as some of the tension drops from your body, breathing heavily as he continues to thrust the gun inside you.

“I think you like that, you get off on the fear.” He says with a manic grin. “Maybe you’re just as twisted as I am.” He clicks his tongue in mock shaming.

You try to protest but he presses the gun harshly against a spot that has you moaning loudly. You try to cover your mouth with your hands, but he grabs your wrists roughly, yanking them away.

“No, lemme hear you, baby.” He says, his voice so low with desire now. “Don’t you fucking dare hide your moans from me.” He gives another sharp thrust with the gun and you let out a keening noise.

“Two more times, how about that?” He says and you don’t have to ask to know what he means. “Let's test our luck again, hm?” He says as you start to feel a deep sense of fear pulling in your gut, along with something else.

He doesn’t even give you time to protest, pulling the trigger back again, as heat builds inside you, your breath quicking.

Another soft click sounds, and you let out another moan, heat rising in you even more, starting to make your spine tingle. You’re dripping at this point, the gun is soaked in your juices as it drips down your ass, onto the couch, each thrust making a sloshing noise. Dabi almost cums right then and there at the click of the gun, and your resulting moan.

“One more time baby, one more time.” His voice is rough, as he loses himself to his own arousal, his dick hard and dripping precum already.

The tension is so thick it threatens to suffocate you both, this really could be the one that ends you, leaving you a splattered mess on the couch, and both Dabi and you seem to realize that. He’s tempting fate right now, pushing his luck, and he seems to be so turned on by the fact, and maybe you are too.

His other hand goes to your clit, rubbing the spot roughly as the heat pulls inside you even more, you can feel yourself nearing the edge. He pulls the trigger back as you hold your breath, everything seeming to stand still for just a moment. You hate how turned on you are by this, by this moment, and by what this man is doing to you. Each thrust of the gun, each pull of the trigger, Dabi’s rough voice, and his rough hand on you, all of it takes you to new heights of pleasure.

The gun clicks again, and all the tension spills from your body at once, as you come hard all over the gun, your hips bucking and your body spasming as you let out a cry. “Fuck! Fuck!” You moan out as Dabi continues to thrust the gun as you orgasm.

“Fuck baby, look at the mess you made.” He says, as you start to come down from your high, he pulls the gun out with a wet squelch. You feel completely boneless, your whole body covered in a sweaty sheen as you breathe heavily. The gun is completely covered in your slick, glistening as gossamer strings drip off.

Dabi’s not done with you yet though, his cock is still stiff and red, twitching in his hand. He settles in closer to your hips, bringing his cock to your swollen lips as he collects some of your arousal on the engorged tip. He sighs deeply at the feeling of your warmth, tilting your hips upwards some.

You shake your head weakly, not sure if you can handle anymore but Dabi just strokes your side in a gesture that would almost be comforting if it weren’t for the current circumstances. “It's okay baby, you did so well, so good, it’s my turn now though.” He says it in a softer voice but it’s clear you have no choice in the matter.

As he rubs the tip of his cock against your entrance, not yet pushing in, he brings the gun to your lips and gives you a simple command, “Suck, clean it off.”

You consider for a moment refusing, pursing your lips tightly and refusing him entry, but you don’t want to risk pissing him off. After just a moment of hesitation, you part your lips slightly, as he presses the gun inside. You can taste yourself, along with the metallic taste of the gun as it slides across your tongue.

He makes a throaty noise at the sight. “That’s it, baby, just like that.” You can’t help but feel your stomach flutter at his praise, as you begin to suck in earnest, hollowing out your cheeks as you do. You don’t understand why you do, but you like the sound he makes as you do as you're told.

“You’re a natural cockwhore, huh? Look at you listening to orders so well, I should have you suck my cock like that, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?” His depraved words are doing things to your stomach, making it flip as your heart starts to race yet again.

As he continues to let out a litany of filthy praise, he begins to press the swollen head of his cock inside you, the slide made easy by his work with the gun earlier. You gasp around the barrel as he thrusts in, moving until his hips are flush with yours and the head of his cock is pressed firmly against your cervix.

He’s bigger than the gun, and his piercings press against your walls in a way that has you tingling, you’re still sensitive from your orgasm and your body starts to twitch slightly at the overwhelming feeling.

His hips still, needing a moment to calm down before he prematurely blows his load. He pulls the gun free from your mouth, putting it back into the pocket of his jacket. “I don’t have to tell ya that I’ll pull that back out so quickly if you start acting up, do I?” He says in a firmer, more threatening tone.

You shake your head. “No, you don’t” You speak in an almost meek voice, not wanting to risk his ire again.

Your submissive obedience right now is only fueling Dabi’s arousal and his growing obsession with you. “Good, so good for me.” He speaks, as he begins to thrust in and out of you, hanging his head back and letting out a long moan at the sensation.

He pushes your nightgown up to your collarbones, one of his hands trailing up your stomach, going to grope your chest. “That’s right, baby, lemme see those pretty tits.” He pinches one of your nipples, and you let out a whine at the sensation. This is how he wanted to see you, weak and pliable under him, too afraid to try and stand up to him anymore, or disobey him. He feels a deep satisfaction that goes beyond just the feeling of fucking you right now.

He presses in closer to you, to the point where you can smell the smoke and ash on him, his dark hair filling your field of vision. His other hand grips your hair and he pulls your head back as he sucks a line kisses up your neck, to up under your jaw.

His voice is right in your ear as he speaks about how good you feel around his cock, letting out low grunts with almost every thrust of his hips.

“Fuck, you feel so good, so fucking good. I’m gonna have to cum in you, fill you up.” His hips pap against your ass now, the coach squeaking under your movements, and each thrust has you sliding up and down slightly, the ceiling bobbing in your view as he fucks in and out.

You’re letting out wanton moans now, shaking under him as he uses your body to get off. You can’t help but cling to him as your arms and legs tremble.

“Gonna come in you, breed you, really make you mine then.” He seems to lose himself in his own filthy talk, as he talks of impregnating you his thrusts become shallower, humping tightly against your cervix as his pace becomes more erratic.

You feel like you’re on the precipice of another orgasm and you worry this one will kill you, you can’t handle any more stimulation. You shake your head weakly at his words, but if he notices, he doesn’t care. Your stomach tightens and with each thrust, it feels like you have to pee. You start letting out louder moans, and he notices your increasing pleasure.

“Right there?” Right fucking there?” He says in an almost growl as he moves roughly, the head of his cock thumping against your cervix with every thrust, his piercing brushing against your inner walls.

One of his hands moves down to your clit, fingering against it quickly, and before you know it, you’re coming again, falling apart underneath the villain. You feel a rush of wetness as you cry out, and Dabi swears as he feels it too.

“Fuck did you just- fuck, fuck I’m coming, oh fuck! I’m coming, I’m coming inside.” He groans out as he fills you with his hot, virile, seed.

He holds you tightly in place as he fucks you through his orgasm, fucking his hot come into you, keeping you on his cock like his life depends on it, the overstimulation makes you cry as tears begin to form in your eyes.

After a moment, he collapses on top of you, completely spent. His weight is almost crushing, as you both just lay there in the aftermath for a few minutes, as your breathing slowly returns to a normal rate. He’s hot and sticky above you, and you don’t miss the way he presses his lips to your neck one last time.

You feel tired down to your bones, your body feels like jello, and you’re weaker than you’ve ever felt. You can feel your eyes already drooping as Dabi pushes himself up off of you and tucks his cock back into his pants as he redoes his belt.

“That was fun, baby. Maybe I should come around more often.” His voice sounded like a promise and a threat at the same time. You don’t have the energy to reply, or really do much at all but let the edges of sleep creep up on you. He looks at your prone form for a moment, before pulling your nightgown back down to your hips wordlessly, and turning to leave, undoubtedly leaving the way he came in.

As sleep starts to take you, you realize this will certainly not be the last time you see Dabi.

I hope you all enjoyed this, this has been the first fic that I've written and posted in about six or seven years, so I was a little nervous about posting this one. I may continue this fic if people are interested, as I am into the idea of a reader who's resistant to Dabi's quirk. As always, comments and feedback are always appreciated!! thank you for reading <3

A/N:

[echobx]

broken heart (3) - a JJ Maybank blurb

summary: JJ goes to apologize to y/n

warnings: swearing, JJ being a little shit (just a tiny bit), lowkey fighting, angsty vibes (?)

word count: 1.5k

author's note: fact is,,,, idk what I'm doing because I have never written like this but I hope you guys like it (also is somehow longer than I intended)

part 1 | part 2

A simple knock against your window before it was pushed open and JJ climbed inside like he had done so many times before. 

You were in the shower, and he could hear you sing along to your music like you always did, but this time it felt different. It wasn't as much background noise to him as it had been most times. 

He kept listening as he settled on your bed; shoes off because he knew how much it annoyed you when he made your bed dirty. 

All the while you had no clue about anything that was happening in the room next door and kept humming while wrapping yourself in a towel and walking back to your room. The small house had thin walls, but just this one time you were blessed with your parents being out on their monthly date night. You could be as loud or as quiet as you wanted without anyone saying anything about it. 

You walked in, not turning on the light and therefore not taking notice of the boy in your bed, who was eyeing you carefully.

But JJ took notice of every little move you made. How you seemed to dance towards your closet. How you dropped your towel before pulling the long shirt over your body. Especially, how you hadn't put anything else but the old shirt on. It wasn't like he didn't know you were hot, but he had also never told you that he did think it, too scared of crossing a line. But he couldn't stop the heat that was rising in him as he thought of all the things he could do if he was of the lesser decent sort. 

You walked over to your bed, phone in your hand and not paying any attention to your surroundings while sitting down. 

“I'm not gonna text you first, dumbass. It's your fault, not mine,” you muttered to yourself before slamming the phone in the pillow next to you and letting yourself fall back. 

You screamed as you jumped back up after having fallen backwards into someone who shouldn't even be there. Turning around and switching on your nightlight you looked down at the boy in your bed and huffed. “Jesus! JJ, what- Why are you here?” 

“Am I not allowed to?” he asked, maybe a bit too cocky considering the fact that he had snuck in and was still lying in your bed. 

“No. Your privileges got revoked for an indefinite amount of time,” you snarled, and he sat up, pulling his legs up and placing his arms on his knees while looking straight at you. 

“You gonna kick me out?” he was still smirking, and it was making your blood boil a bit.

“How long have you been in here?” 

“Not long, cute ass tho,” he chuckled, and you couldn't help the fact that you turned crimson. 

“Leave,” you said trying to regain composure, but he knew you too well, knew you wouldn't actually kick him out. 

But he did eventually get up, walking over to you and brushing a strand of hair from your face; something he had never done before, at least not like he did now. He was careful and gentle and nothing like the teasing ass who usually just destroyed your hair in passing. 

“I came to apologize,” JJ whispered.

“Good, tell me what you are apologizing for?” you taunted him, because you were aware that he had never picked up on it. On how much more you liked him than he liked you. 

“For being an asshole,” he replied. 

“Lukewarm. Take another guess,” you glared at him, at the blue eyes that seemed so much prettier than any others you had ever looked at. 

“For nearly getting myself hurt.”

“Warmer, but still not it.”

“Then tell me,” he asked, and you stepped back, shaking his hand off, that had remained close to your face just to twirl some of your hair. 

You huffed before looking back at him. “Why should I? That's always been it. You don't see me, not even when it's important. You always look past me, and I'm not doing that anymore. I'm not waiting around anymore. I'm not gonna do it. And it's so dumb, so incredibly stupid of me to think you'd ever look at me like that.” 

“Like what?” JJ was a little confused again, because he hadn't expected this. He had played the scenarios in his head. And each time you had forgiven him, and you moved on together, best friends again, like it had always been. 

“I'm- You hurt my feelings, JJ. I'm your best friend, I think that should mean more to you than it does. And I don't need to have to want more from you than that just to care about you. And I care so much. Too much, maybe.” You shook your head, clawing at your scalp as you tried to not lose yourself in the new wave of heartache that was rolling in on you. 

“I'll try to not get hurt again. Is that it? Is that what you want?” JJ asked and stepped closer again. 

“Yes,” you said firmly. 

“Then why did you shake your head just now?” His eyebrow was lifted as he nodded towards you, but you hadn't even caught yourself doing it. It was a subconscious decision, a bad one at that.

“I don't know,” you whispered, and he stepped even closer. 

“I think you do.” His warm breath was fanning over your lips, and you had to gulp. 

“I’m not your girlfriend or whatever,” you hushed, and a small smile slipped over his face. 

“No, you're not.” 

“And I'm not a side piece either. I'm not to be thrown away. I'm to be handled with care,” you kept your voice low, heart racing and feeling the heat rise in you, filling your head and heart and more delicate parts that you didn't even want to think of.

“You're worse than a girlfriend,” JJ laughed silently. “Girlfriends usually don't know this much bullshit about their boyfriends.”

“Keeping a few secrets is supposed to be healthy in a functional relationship,” you said and absentmindedly wet your lips while doing so. 

“I bet you got some for the both of us,” JJ replied, leaning in closer, but you stopped him before he could do something that would ruin your friendship. 

“JJ, no,” you held him at an arm's length. 

“What do you mean no?” he furrowed his brows. 

“I'm not going to destroy years of friendship for a quick fuck.” Your words felt like a slap to his face. 

“What then? Tell me what you want, woman!” he begged, tugging at his hair, and it was truly the first time you had seen him actually desperate. 

“I want to not get my heart broken just because you're pissed. I want to feel admired and not have only ever one date and be ghosted for no reason. I want to be loved, JJ. I want all of that and I don't think that should be too much to ask for.” The words flowed out of you before you could even register them, but it didn't matter because it was the truth and that's all he ever asked of you. 

“But you already have all that,” JJ replied almost inaudibly, feeling his throat close up on all the feelings coming up, ones he had suppressed for years.

“Where?” you huffed, and his face contorted with a type of pain you had never seen on him before. It was like he was fighting himself over it. 

“Me, all right. I-” he turned and looked away. “I do, I mean- Fuck, okay. I love you, y/n.”

“I know, we are best friends. You love me and JB and Pope and Kie and Sarah and Cleo. It's what we do. It's nothing special.” 

JJ turned to look at you again. There was no doubt that you truly believed the words you had just uttered. That the only way you thought he could ever love you, was as a friend. What he hadn't expected was that it would hurt as much as it did to hear it. His heart was squeezing in his chest like it hadn't in a very long time, and when he clawed at it, you came to help, like you always did. Wrapping your arms around him for comfort was like second nature to you both. 

And as you stood there, his head buried in your neck, hearts beating against each other. He finally found his courage again. Because it didn't matter how hurt you were, you'd always come back to him, and he'd always return to you, no matter what. 

JJ pulled away just enough to hold your face in his callused hands, the cold rings softly indenting your cheeks. “I love you,” he whispered and connected his lips to yours without asking for permission, because he was too scared that you would start turning his words around again. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

part 4

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @kys4-20

PS: yes I intend on writing a fourth part, but only cause I ended on a cliffhanger to make myself feel like I actually need to write it and not leave you guys hanging

[mattsturniolosmuse]

You need help?

Anthony Vaughn x Reader

Summary: You and Chook are neighbours, and he often finds himself needing out of his house. He climbs onto your roof, like he always does, to get comfort, but catches you masturbating. You notice, letting him in, and notice his boner and decide to help him out.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected sex, missionary position, fast sex, loving sex, mutual masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, spitting

"Yeah, well you need to shut the fuck up and get out of my house." Ant's mother shouts at his father. A singular tear leaks out of Ant's eyes as he tries to drown out the sound of his parents shouting.

He looks out his window to your house. He knows you told him to let you be for a few hours, but he needed to see you, and no one else.

You two had never done anything sexual together, but he imagined it. He would be lying if he said he didn't want it. He sneaks out his window, climbing your eavesdrop and heaving himself onto your roof. He approaches your window, hand ready to knock, but what he sees makes his heart stop.

You, in a lacy pink bra, no bottoms, your little hands in between your legs and pumping in and out of you at a fast pace. Your back arches off of your bed, your mouth falling open as you release over your fingers. He looks down and notices his hard cock.

"Shit." He says, trying to hide it.

You notice him, eyes wide, as you scramble to put on your clothes. You stop, noticing his hard cock. You sigh, stop dressing yourself and open the window for him.

"You cannot tell fucking anyone, you hear?" You say.

Ant's breathing is heavy, and his pupils are so dilated you can't see anything else. His cock is pulsing. He nods, agreeing.

"You need help with that?" You ask, pulling him inside by his shirt and pushing him onto the bed.

"Fuck, yes." He moans as you straddle him and push your lips against his. Your slick is staining his sweatpants, but he couldn't care less.

You attach your lips to his neck, sucking hickeys into his soft skin. He whimpers, pulling you impossible close to him.

You pull away from him, satisfied with the hickeys you left. He smashes his lips against yours again, flipping you over and taking off your bra. He groans when he sees your chest, his cock threatening to break any moment.

He pulls down his sweatpants along with his boxers, and takes off his shirt. He kisses you, lining up with your entrance.

"Hey, I thought you needed help?" You say, wanting to have sucked him off. Usually, he would be into a bit of foreplay, but he could not wait any longer or else he would physically explode.

"Not today, princess." He says, pushing into you.

"H-holy shit." You moan, wrapping your arms around him. He begins to thrust in and out of you, and he buries his face in your neck, biting, sucking, licking and kissing the skin.

"Faster, Ant, please!" You moan, digging your nails into his shoulder blades, surely drawing blood. He obeys, pistoning his hips into yours faster. His balls are slapping against your ass, and his eyes are squeezed shut.

"Ant! Fuck!" You moan, urging him to go even faster.

"Open." He moans. You somehow understand what he means, and you open your mouth. He spits in your mouth.

"Hold it there, swallow it when you cum." He says, his thrusts getting sloppier by the second.

"Gonna cum." You mumble, clenching down on his cock. He nods.

"Me t-too." He moans. You cum around his cock, swallowing his spit at the same time. You open your mouth to show him. He nods with a moan, shooting his load into you and collapsing on top of you.

"Thank you." He pants.

>>>><<<<

You walk through the hallway, with Ant by your side. People cat call towards the two of you, and you know it's towards the hickeys on your guyses necks.

"Hey, atta be Ant!" Cash says, clapping him on the back. Ant nods.

"I know." He says. Spider approaches you.

"Well, you finally boned the school's golden girl. What did she taste like, goldfish?" He says.

"Shut the fuck up, Spider!" You yell.

[sserpente]

A/N: Billy Hargrove and a mistletoe. There was no way I wasn’t going to write this.

Words: 1014 Warnings: mentions of bullying

The way to the kitchen was blocked. Well, not really. But there was someone leaning against the threshold that you, under all possible circumstances, whatsoever, were keen to avoid.

All you wanted was some more mulled wine. You’d need an awful lot more in order to get drunk on the hot beverage but you were determined and you were thirsty.

So get it together. High school is over! Mentally slapping yourself, you shook your head and fought yourself a way through the partying crowd in the hallway. Push past, don’t look him in the eye, ignore him, pretend you didn’t see him… it should have been easy. With your heart in your mouth, you turned sideways to fit through the door—a significantly hard task when two people were casually conversing right in its middle—until you were stopped by a strong arm stopping you from entering the kitchen like a bloody human barrier.

“Whoops.”

The nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach only intensified when he spoke up. He was taller than you, of course, looking down at you with an amused expression on his face. His outfit… not only was it unsuitable for the current weather conditions but also direly inappropriate for a Christmas party. And who wore a leather jacket without a shirt on anyway? And why did he have to be so shredded? You knew he worked out but Jesus H. Christ… up close, that six-pack looked even more defined. Why was it always the arseholes who were this attractive? Why couldn’t it be the nice guy next door, the one who took your mail in when you weren’t home?

No, it had to be Billy fucking Hargrove, your own personal high school bully who’d tried to make your life a living hell. Well… more or less. In fact, you were pretty certain he was the very reason you were still single. If Billy Hargrove told you not to date a girl… you didn’t. That’s just how Hawkins worked since the fucker moved here from sunny California.

“Let me through, Billy.”

“You didn’t follow the rules.”

You rolled your eyes. You had no idea what he was on about but you were already getting annoyed. Should have climbed through the bloody window instead.

“Seriously, all I want is some mulled wine. I won’t let my festive mood be spoiled today, least of all by my school bully.”

“Are you kidding me?” He added your name at the end, making you swallow. He never used your name. It’d only ever been nicknames—teasing nicknames that’d had you seethe. “I wasn’t bullying you.”

“Of course not. What else would you call it then, huh?”

“What, are you that daft? I wanted to get with you so bad the whole fucking school knew.”

You blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh yeah. You embarrassed me quite a bit, doll. You were the only girl at school who resisted my charms.”

“Charms is a strong word.” You didn’t believe him. Not a word. Or did you? You bit your lower lip. You’d seen him bully others. He’d gotten into physical fights more often than you could count. He’d never… insulted you either, just… teased you relentlessly? The closest you’d come to a physical attack had been when he’d knocked your books from your hands on Halloween. Come to think of it, he’d said the exact same word he’d said to you just now back then when—

“Whoops.” Billy’s shit-eating grin grew wider when you tried to slip past him again. Without any effort whatsoever, his arm came up to block your way yet again no matter how hard you pushed against him.

“Whatever. Should have treated me nicer then… if that was true.” But part of you couldn’t help but wonder… if it was. You thrust forward yet again, eager to escape the situation.

“A-ah. I’m afraid you’re still gonna have to follow the rules, doll.”

“What rules?” you spat, refraining from rolling your eyes at him. Billy smirked with his mouth slightly open, his gaze travelling up above your head. A fucking mistletoe. Of course.

“After all, it’s Christmas.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Why?” He grinned. “Are you afraid it could be…”—he leaned in closer, lowering his voice—“…good?”

“I have absolutely no desire—and I mean no desire—to kiss you.” And that was a fucking lie. You’d wondered often enough if he really was as good as the girls whispering about his many talents in the bedroom said he was.

He didn’t listen to you anyway because before you could turn away and flee, his lips were on yours. It wasn’t just a quick peck. Hell, you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to. Billy wrapped his arms around you in an instant, his palms resting on your hips dangerously close to your bum, keeping you close. Much to your dismay… your eyes fell shut. The sucker knew what he was doing—and he made it so easy for you to kiss him back.

It was a combination of the cheering that got loud around you with a start and his tongue that teasingly slid against your bottom lip that made you break the kiss before it could escalate.

“Looks like she wasn’t immune to your charms, after all, Hargrove!”

You raised an eyebrow, bending back to create some distance between you. “You’re gonna have to do an awful lot more than kiss me underneath the mistletoe if you want to convince me.”

Billy grinned. “Shall we say eight, then? Tomorrow? There’s a nice restaurant just outside of Hawkins I’m sure you’ll love.”

You considered it for a moment. What could possibly go wrong? A, this could be a terrible prank. B, he could kidnap you and chop you to pieces in the woods, or C… he meant it. You sighed.

“Fine. Don’t make me regret this.”

“That’s what I’m talking about, baby. Wear something pretty. I’ll come pick you up.”

“Uh-huh.” You pushed past him again and this time, he let you through. Yeah. You definitely needed more mulled wine after this.

[dollfaceksj]

6 missed calls?? let’s not turn back until it’s 7 besides jokes when they see jungkook and oc’s post-car sex state how’ll they react i’m so curious abt that 👀

🤭 here you go (small update bc i literally posted #15 a few hours ago but i felt bad about not posting consistently for a few days. i quickly wrote this so its not like the others but i hope you’ll still enjoy?)

taste of a poison paradise | jjk (m) #16

masterlist

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jungkook dives into all compartments in seokjin’s car before handing you some tissues

you glance at them and wait a moment before taking them and cleaning yourself up

“do you need help?” he quietly asks, making you glare up at him

“just get in the front seat and drive back,” you mumble after throwing the used tissues out the window

you climb into the passenger seat as well

ughhh u feel so GROSS

he helps you get in the front before crawling back into the driver’s seat

“are you okay?” he asks again as he buckles his seatbelt

“just drive,” you tell him as you reach for your phone and check your missed phone calls

6 missed phone calls. from taehyung.

fuck

you quickly dial him back

he picks up after the first ring

“y/n, where the hell are you?”

you blink a few times in order to collect your thoughts. “we’re on our way back, why?”

“shit, we wanted to ask if yall could bring back some oil too cause we ran out. are you far from the store?”

oh… relief. y’all weren’t taking too long or at least they didn’t notice

they just urgently called you for some more stuff

good good

“turn back, we need something extra from the store,” you tell jungkook

he rotates without any obstacles and heads back to the store

“okay, oil. anything else?” you ask, trying to ignore the soreness in your thighs

“no, not for now. thanks!” and with that he hangs up

the ride back to the store is quiet and short cause yall weren’t that far

he scans the area to see if there are any men

“stay here and lock the doors after i get out,” jungkook quietly says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car

you huff in defiance but he’s already gone

so you listen

you scroll on your phone and check your messages while you wait for him

after a few minutes, a knock on the car window makes you flinch

fuck it’s just jungkook😭

fight or flight instinct was activated

thought it was abt to get real dark

you unlock the doors for him

he gets back in the car

hands you an energy drink

you tear your eyes away from your phone to the can of energy drink

you cock your eyebrow at it before at him

he grumbles, “you look fucked out. just drink it and don’t be difficult for once.”

asshole

“i’m your sen–”

“yeah, yeah.”

you huff as you snatch it out of his hands and crack it open, bringing it up to your swollen lips

“so bad-mannered. i should teach you some manners.”

AAAAAAA

can he STOP

his words knock the air out of your lungs

“you’re literally forcing me to drink it, it’s not out the goodness of your heart,” you quip quickly

he shrugs his shoulders. “do you want them to know you just got fucked in the back of seokjin-hyung’s car when all you had to do was pick up some bread?”

what a little SHIT

you tell him, “i’m sick of your back talk.”

“you shouldn’t make it so fun to push your buttons.” his words instantly shoot heat down your body

fuck FUCK

why are you so attracted to his arrogance

you shake your head and chug the energy drink, letting it burn down your throat

the drive back is rather quiet, some random r&b track in the background

once he parks the car, you tap his arm

he turns to look at you and a soft hum leaves his mouth in response

“this isn’t happening again, you know that, right?”

silence

now that the engine has been turned off

it’s pure

and utter

silence

he frowns for a moment and glances down at the can in your hand in deep thought

you start, “it’s just th–”

he cuts you off. “why?”

you sigh quietly and gently shake your head

“jungkook, if we get caught–”

“we’re not gonna get caught.”

“we’ve shared a tent once and we already fucked in the back of tae’s friend’s car when we were supposed to get necessities.”

“okay? that just means we’re sexually compatible.”

“jungkook, drop it.”

he sighs and doesn’t say another word as he unbuckles his seatbelt

“jungkook–”

“don’t worry, i heard you.” he gets out the car after that

you quietly sigh and make it out the car too, throwing out the empty energy can on the ground (don’t litter!)

you follow behind jungkook up to the others

“oh, thanks for…” tae trails off once he makes eye contact with you. “damn. what the hell happened to you?”

HEART DROPS STRAIGHT INTO YOUR ASS

how do you look???

why did jungkook not say anything about your appearance!!!

“what?”

“i don’t know. you look sick. are you feeling okay?”

that damn scoundrel. did he really put a number on you?

you nod your head. “i’m just cold and tired. i think i’ll head to sleep.”

taehyung squints his eyes at you suspiciously

and it makes your heart beat out of your chest

“okay.” taehyung doesn’t say another word

you don’t wait for anything else as you head back toward your tent

well..

jungkook’s tent.

WHATEVER

you make your way inside and change clothes

cleaning yourself up using wetwipes and whatnot

you’re never going camping again. HOW GROSS!!!

you’re paying that bathhouse a visit first thing in the morning!!! YUCK!!!

you get into your pajamas and glance at jungkook’s sleeping bag

should you?

No.

don’t

he invited you in last night out of the good of his heart

don’t just do shit now

get in your own sleeping bag and SLEEP.

sleep.

doze off.

sleep….

“y/n.”

hmm…

“y/n.”

hmmmmm….

“y/n!”

“what?” you groan, eyes still closed

“you’re shivering. why didn’t you wait for me?” his voice is soft and quiet from right next to you

you reply, “was i supposed to?”

he sighs quietly and tugs on the zipper of your sleeping bag. “get in here.”

“no.”

he freezes. “why?”

“you know why.”

he sighs in exasperation. “i’m not gonna touch you. jesus. how horny do you think i am?”

you shake your head. “still a fuckboy,” you mumble quietly

you can’t see him with your eyes closed but if you could, he’s definitely clenching his jaw. “suit yourself,” he mumbles before turning over

ah

were you too harsh on him?

you shouldn’t have said that

he’s told you numerous times he doesn’t like being called that

but!!!!!!

you can’t be growing soft on him

it’s jungkook for fucks sake

but your heart won’t let you

be mean

like that

after a few minutes of silence,….

you slowly start to unzip his sleeping bag

when you think you’ve unzipped it far enough for it to go undetected, you slowly scoot closer and–

“what do you think you’re doing?”

AAAAAA

“uh,” you close your eyes and exhale deeply. “i’m cold.”

he doesn’t say anything but keeps his back turned to you

“do you mind?” you whisper

he replies, “i said, suit yourself.”

you bite down on your lip. he sounds mad

sounds pretty sexy though…

you’re still his senior tho!!! asshole. and he calls YOU bad-mannered???

you slowly crawl into his sleeping back, sighing in content when his bodyheat already warms you up

you quietly hum in delight. “you’re so warm.”

he stays quiet

huff. asshole

you scoot a bit closer to him and finally allow yourself to sleep

quiet

sleep

he’s so warm

warm…

you stir

and check the time

it’s only been 40 minutes since you fell asleep

you’re facing the other way though

and you can’t tell whether jungkook is facing your back or not

but that question is quickly answered when his breath hits your neck

goosebumps

fuck

you scoot further back, cuddling your back up into him

you’re basically glued to him now. he’s asleep anyway

but he’s so so warm

and you just want to fall asleep

so just close your eyes and–

“you’re really close.”

FUCK

HE’S AWAKE

holy shit

WAIT WAIT

okay. pretend ur asleep

no reply

“y/n, i know you’re awake. you just checked your phone.”

well fuck.

you sigh quietly. “it’s cold.”

“and that requires you pushing your ass into my groin?”

HE’S SO?

what a little shit HELLO?

clearly there wasn’t any other way to get warmed up by him!!

after a few moments of silence you say, “does it bother you?”

more silence

“it doesn’t. it may bother you, though.”

fuck

fuck

calm down

are you in heat or something? why are you ready to pounce him any second of any day CHILLLLLLL

And ur the one that told him you should leave it as a one and done thing?

ur dumb.

very dumb

because his proximity and his breath hitting your neck… it has you in a chokehold

“it doesn’t bother me,” you say, quietly. “on the contrary, i like knowing the effect i have on you.”

he doesn’t say anything to that but you know he’s awake

but it’s quiet again since he didn’t respond

very quiet

maybe it’s for the best

if he talks again

you’re sure you’ll let him do whatever he wants

so just

sleep.

don’t think about anything else.

just.

sleep.

“can i touch you?”

okay 😂😂😂😂

how long did that take? 3 minutes? 5?

you slowly nod your head

“i need you to say ‘yes’, y/n. i need confirmation. tell me you want me to.”

fuck

his low voice in your ear

his breath on your skin

his proximity

oh shit

SHIT

“touch me, jungkook.”

he doesn’t waste any time, hand sliding over your waist and moving up to cup your breast under your shirt

you quietly sigh in pleasure, allowing him to fondle you

fuck what the hell happened to you?

if you would’ve told yourself in drabble #1 that jeon jungkook would be groping you in a tent on a camping trip with tae and co and you LIKED it you’d have declared yourself insane

and maybe you are

cause why are you enjoying this right now

“fuck.” his swearing gets your body tingling

you keep yourself quiet, occasionally humming when he squeezes you

“shit, you’re gonna drive me crazy,” he whispers in your ear as his teases your erect nipple through your bralette

“like why am i already glued to your body? i had you exactly how i wanted a few hours ago and yet i can’t stop,” he says, more to himself as he presses soft kisses to your neck

you merely hum in response cause the moment you try to form a coherent sentence it’s just not happening

but shit this feels good

his hand squeezing you

his crotch against you

lips on your neck

“you have no damn idea–” he whispers as he kneads your breast. “tell me to stop.”

you shake your head in response

he repeats, “tell me to stop, y/n.”

“i don’t want you to.”

he shakes his head. “you don’t get it.”

“get what?”

then, he presses his erection into your ass and this snaps you out of your trance. “see how hard the thought of that pussy of yours makes me.”

wow

uhhh

welcome back to earth

“you drive me insane,” he says as he squeezes your breast again. “and i need to stop but i can’t. tell me to stop.”

fuck

he sounds serious too

you know that you two will actually fuck in this tent, right now

while everyone’s asleep

if you don’t stop him (and yourself)

and you’ve already had 2 orgasms today!!! damn that jeon jungkook

this is the last night you’re spending here

meaning the last time sleeping in a tent with him

you’ll be leaving to go back home tomorrow evening aka sunday

meaning back to life as you know it

meaning… this might be the last time you even spend this much time around jungkook

cause back home you’re joined at the hip with taehyung

and for the time being you don’t want tae know. at all

so what’s it gonna be?

to be continued

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[certifiedlovergirlsstuff]

girlieee your spiderman!ethan landry fics are literally my most favourite thing EVER!! I know you already made a fic like this but could you do a fic where it’s pouring rain, reader is sleeping and she hears a knock on her window and it’s Ethan🧍He’s got rips on his suit and some rips on his mask and he’s like scratched up and bleeding a lot so reader lets him inside to help patch him up? It’s all angsty but fluffy too (hurt/comforttt)😁 tooootally understand if you can’t write this, I have too much respect for you and your work to be upset haha!! ilyyy🤍

you know always helps to see if i could write similar scenarios in different context (i didn’t write any of the actual patching up, i hope that’s okay🫣). i hope i did your request the justice you deserve. and thank you so much for enjoying spider-man!ethan just as much as me and everyone else💗💗💗 (not proofread or spell checked, forgive my messy words)

used the prompts “let me explain-“ and “can you calm down?” from @urfriendlywriter

pairing: spider-man!ethan landry x fem!reader wc: 1.3k

masterlist

it was a gloomy day, morning to night, on this friday night in new york. luckily you only had one class in the late afternoon on campus so you were able to stay home the rest of the night. you cooked some grilled cheese for dinner, ate some ice cream, caught up on your show. then you showered, did some homework, read about two chapters on your new book as you laid in bed before sleepiness coated your eyelids and they fell shut.

you weren’t sure how long you were asleep, maybe thirty minutes to a few hours, you couldn’t tell. you smacked your lips a few times that were aching for gulps of cold water, so you made the short walk to the kitchen and chugged the water bottle in your hand.

with sluggish steps you made it back to your room ready to throw yourself back into bed. but then a noise caught your attention. you thought you were imagining it, brain working slower while rain beat against the side of your building harshly, but it came again. and again this time louder with urgency. you thought it was coming from your front door somehow, but movement by your window stopped you in place.

slow and small steps carried you closer and closer to the dark window until you could see someone sitting on your fire escape, someone colored in blue and red.

they waved when you were in view and you noticed all the cuts on his suit and mask. so you pushed the window up fast and yelled into the roaring wind, “spider-man!” and he yelled back, “hi! sorry i just need some place to wait out the storm and i stumbled here. i swear it’s me!” and he shot a web to the other side of the building to prove it.

so you moved aside and he climbed through the window then stood to his full height with a slight sway to his body. you held your hands out hesitantly, “uh, you wanna sit down?”

“if- if i can, that’d be great.” he sounded winded and tired. you grabbed his wrist and guided him to your desk chair and he sank into the seat, leaned his head back with his eyes to the ceiling.

your eyes followed the slow up and down of his chest, “i think i already know this answer, but are you okay?” wringing your fingers together with your teeth biting into your bottom lip.

spider-man took a deep inhale that was followed by a shaky exhale. he did that two more times before adjusting his seating, his palms resting on his thighs as his bug eyes stared at you. “i’m gonna take off my mask-“ “wait, what?”

he continued, “i don’t want you to freak out, y/n.” now you were even more nervous, “how do you know-“ and before you could finish your sentence spider-man yanked his mask off and underneath sat a pillow of sweaty brown curls along with watchful brown eyes.

you couldn’t speak, your lips parted but no sound came out. hands moved to cover your mouth while frantic pupils took in this new development. ethan landry was spider-man. the boy you sit next to in your shared english class. the boy that causes your heart to beat faster than normal at just the mention of his name.

it felt like your brain went through five stages of emotions in five seconds. confusion, worry, upset, butterflies, then finally anger.

eyes that were wide as saucers now narrowed as you dropped your hands to your sides and stared down the superhero boy as you yelled, “what the fuck, ethan!”

he held his arms out like you were a dangerous animal. “okay, i know it’s a lot-“ you scuffed at the words, “a lot? yeah it’s a lot! your fucking spider-man and haven’t told any of us!”

he cringed and brought a hand to his neck while looking away. “actually… chad knows…”

a beat before- “get the fuck out.” stone cold face and voice. ethan jumped from the chair on unsteady feet, “y/n, just calm down and-“ “don’t fucking tell me to calm down! i’m pissed at you and your telling me to calm down?”

ethan sighed before sitting back in your chair. you stayed standing with your arms tight across your chest, nostrils flaring and wishing you had laser eyes. though your mind was worried about ethan’s health and his injuries, but you had to hold your ground.

“y/n,” he said with a plea, “just- just let me explain. or whatever you want the answer to, i’ll give it. just… please y/n.”

a clench to your jaw before moving to sit on your bed, arms still crossed over your heart. “fine, but i just have one question?” ethan sat up straighter, eyes alight. “anything.”

“why didn’t you tell me?” body slumping and face softening. “do you not trust me? i wouldn’t have told-“

“no, no. it’s not…” ethan moved from the chair to beside you on your bed. your knees knocked together and you dropped your arms to sit in your lap, fingers picking at your pajama pants.

“the only reason chad knows is ‘cause he’s my roommate. and he walked into my room before i could hide the suit.” ethan hesitated before setting his left palm on your thigh just above your knee. your eyes staring at the red fabric and ethan watching the side of your face. “i didn’t tell you because i don’t want you involved.”

looking away from his hand and to his face, his scratched and bruised face. “oh, ethan,” reaching out to cup his cheeks.

his gloves hands fell atop yours, “people that know about me being spider-man… it puts a target on their back. and i didn’t want anyone to know, but when chad found out i tried really hard to make sure spider-man wasn’t seen around him. but with you especially… i could never forgive myself if something were to happen. i need you in my life.”

“i just… you could’ve told me and i would help you with all this.” referring to his damaged skin. “do you do it yourself or does chad help?”

ethan glances down, “i do it myself. unless it’s some place i can’t reach i’ll ask chad for help. he kinda says the same things, wants to help me.”

your thumbs stroked his cheeks, “it’s cause we care about you, ethan. we don’t like seeing you in pain and we don’t want to think about… losing you.” throat constricting from the emotions growing.

ethan grips your wrist, “hey, hey. you won’t lose me. i’ve been doing this for three years now. i can handle myself.” making sure his eyes look directly into yours to convey his words.

a tear drops, “doesn’t mean i won’t worry about your safety all the time now.” eyes zeroing in on a cut along his lip, “now, why don’t i clean you up. seems you’ve had a stressful night.” and ethan huffed a laugh at that, “you could say that.”

you guided ethan to lay on your bed, his grunts and groans twist your insides. you smooth a hand over an unmarred spot on his chest, “i’ll get some bandages and rubbing alcohol. best we can do for the night.” and you moved to leave, but ethan wrapped his hand around your wrist keeping you close as he whispered, “thank you. i owe you.”

a scrunch of your brows at his words, “no, no you don’t owe me. i’m here for you always. and i know you’ll be here for me. that’s all we need.” nudging a knuckle at his chin, sharing a special smile.

“just rest while i take care of you, bug boy.” leaning down to press puckered lips to ethan’s temple, just below his curly bangs. pulling away, ethan smiles dazedly, “bug boy?”

you pulled away from his touch and shrugged as you walked to exit your bedroom, “gotta give you a new nickname. can’t keep letting the title spider-man get to your head.”

-

ethan landry taglist: @astrxq / @websterss / @teenagedramaqueenlisa

[natashaslesbian]

Anchor (pt. 2)

Summary: you’re starting to settle in at the avengers compound when an attack on the building has you spilling more about your past

Word Count: 1.3k

Parings: (Natasha x Y/n) (Bucky x Y/n)

Warnings: fighting, slightly disordered eating

————

You followed a single raindrop from the top of the window all the way to the bottom, it fell so slowly. “Come in” you said after a light knock on the door “only me” Natasha said as she peeked round the frame “how are you finding your new room?” She asked, you decided to stay facing the window pane “it’s a big change I know” Natasha empathised, having a conversation with your silence. “It’s the bed isn’t it?” She said “what?” You whispered as you turned your attention to the red head. “It’s too soft right? You should try taking the mattress off it’s-“ “how could you possibly know what this feels like?” You cut her off. Natasha didn’t take offence to your remark, after all how could you know about her past “sleeping on the mattress on the floor really helped me, when I first came here, from the red room” your eyes grew wide “you were in the red room?” You asked, the bile rising in your throat as you said the words “yes” Natasha said with a tone of surprise, opening her mouth to ask another question before you cut her off “I’m tired” you said as you turned to face the window once more “I’ll let you get some rest” Natasha said as she closed the door behind her. You pushed open the bedroom window and reached your hand out to feel the rain. It was cold outside but you didn’t mind, it was nice to feel the air and the water as it fell off your fingertips. You thought about the look in Natasha’s eyes, the suspicion she held. You thought about telling her, perhaps she was someone you could trust? You wondered why you had never met her. A loud roll of thunder broke your gaze, the edge of your hand getting caught on the open window as you jumped. You hated storms, so you quickly closed your window and climbed into your bed, pulling the sheets up over your head, blocking the world out.

Downstairs, Bucky was talking to some of his teammates about the possibility of a Hydra attack. He didn’t like to cause panic amongst the avengers but they needed to know that you were a target and you were living under their roof now. “We’ll protect her Buck” Steve said, placing a supportive hand on Becky’s shoulder “so we’re just gonna risk our lives for this girl because Bucky said so? She’s a complete stranger to us, she could be dangerous” Sam spoke up from the corner “you used to say the same about me Wilson” Natasha remarked “she’s not dangerous, she’s afraid. We can’t just send her out into the world to defend herself” she continued “you don’t know her like I do Sam, we have to keep her safe, please?” Bucky pleaded with Tony “we’ll set up extra security measures, make sure she stays in the compound and I’ll have Jarvis alert you or I if she’s in any distress” Stark said “Natasha too” Buck answered “I think she trusts you” he said to the redhead “ok Natasha too” Tony said as he settled on the couch “is there anything else we can do?” Asked Clint, Bucky thought for a moment but shook his head. The conversation began to fade and one by one people left for bed. Soon it was just Natasha and Bucky left, sitting in comfortable silence. Nat was the first to speak up “you think she trusts me?” She said “I do” Bucky answered “she might not show it and maybe she doesn’t even know it yet, but I see that look in her eyes. She knows you won’t hurt her” he finished. Bucky excused himself for bed and made it half way to the door until Natasha asked “has she said anything to you, about that mission, and what happened to her?” Buck stopped in his tracks, he had asked you about it but could tell you weren’t ready to talk about it yet “No” he sighed “ok, goodnight” Nat said, avoiding eye contact “night” Bucky said back as he left the room.

The next few days were slow. So slow that you couldn’t even remember how much time had passed. You stayed in your new room, not wanting to be around all these strangers. But there was Bucky, he would bring you fresh meals and sit with you even when you told him to leave. Bucky was the only person you allowed to check your wounds and on occasion, Natasha would stop by to say hello. No one had told you that the rest of the team were hard at work, watching Hydras every move taking turns to monitor the security cameras. There hadn’t been a whisper of movement since you arrived four days ago and Bucky was starting to think that maybe Hydra weren’t after you. Tonight, you were at the compound with Natasha and Bucky, the rest of the team had been sent on an overnight mission under Fury’s order. The widow and the soldier had convinced you to join them for dinner in the dining room, and as there was no one else around you eventually agreed. You pushed most of the food around your plate but did manage a few mouthfuls, much to Nat and Bucky’s appreciation. After dinner the three of you settled on the couch for some movies. You stayed silent while the pair conversed about the things they did and didn’t like about the film.

You were just starting to drift on when suddenly alarms blared throughout the compound. The sound rang through your ears as you jumped to your feet. Bucky begged you to go to your room and hide, but before he could finish his sentence you were following Natasha down the hall. “Y/n, you need to keep hidden!” Nat said “I can help. Let me help” you begged. The widow passed you a pistol and a dagger for your waist belt. The two of you sprinted back to the living room where Bucky was already fighting three masked guards. You caught a glimpse of their selves and the hydra logo sent chills down your spine. Gunfire rained down as fists were flown towards faces and stomachs were kicked. Natasha took a hard hit to the face and was knocked to the floor, Bucky was still preoccupied with taking down the last guard attacking him. It took you only seconds before you decided to dive for the agent who had hurt Nat, taking down the guard fighting you as you went. You through all of your weight at him as you swung around his shoulders to wrap your legs around his neck. Your body was so sore, you still weren’t fully recovered from your injuries. You fell backwards, aiming for the floor, and the guard caught between your grip came crashing down with you.

Bucky came sprinting back over when he had finally overpowered his attackers. “Nat, y/n!” He yelled “are you okay?” He said as he came to help you both to your feet. “Is that all of them?” He finished. “I think so, just the five of them” you said as you looked around you at the bodies scattered on the floor. “They must’ve thought you were alone” Bucky said as Natasha finally found her feet. She was slightly out of breath and was wiping the running blood from her nose. “How did you do that?” She said “do what?” You shyly asked “the way you took that guard out. Where did you learn to do that?” Natasha said, fearing that her assumptions were right and she already knew the answer. You mumbled for a moment, fidgeting with your fingers. “Y/n?” Bucky said with a voice laced with concern “did you learn it with Hydra?” He asked, not really understanding the silent conversation between you and Natasha. “No” you whispered. “Then where did you learn it?” He asked again. “In the red room”

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[d-dixonimagines]

can u do enemy to lover prompt five

Prompt: "Don't touch me!" "How am I supposed to bandage you up if I can't touch you?"

I don't know what to really label this as. It's mild angst? If you wanna call it that? Reader is more moody than I originally anticipated them to be. Also, I clearly don't know how to clean wounds or how they would do it in the show, so the way it's described here is probably wrong.

Right from the very start of the day you and Daryl had been at each other's throats, bickering and yelling like you'd been married for 50 years. So it was beyond you why Rick thought it was a good idea to make you two go on a run together. Surely he knew there would be a chance that only one of you came back, and not because of any walker. The run wasn't supposed to be that big a deal. A quick day trip scouring for supplies and literally anything that would be of use and that you could carry. Everything had gone surprisingly well until you were making your way back. There was a run-in with a small hoard of walkers that happened to wander through where you were at; too many of them for just two people to deal with. You both made your way towards an abandoned house, killing off as many of the walkers as you could, focusing only on the ones that were a higher risk. If you had tried to pock off every single one, it would become too easy to get overwhelmed and ambushed as they all crowded together. So your only goal was to retreat to safety.

"Over here!" You heard Daryl's voice over the commotion of the moaning walkers. Yanking your knife from one of their skulls, you turned in Daryl's direction and made your way over. You both were almost at the house, eyeing it just beyond the tree line. There were scattered walkers wandering the property, making it difficult to make a direct run for it. "We should just keep moving. See if there's another place further down." You suggested, not seeing any other option. Daryl just shook his head. "Nah... we don't know how far the next place could be. This could be our only option. We jus' need'a plan." "We don't have time for a plan," you rolled your eyes, using every will power you had to not raise your voice and draw more attention. "I can see that, that's why we ain't gonna waste our time lookin' for somethin' else." Daryl growled back. "There's gotta be about seven or eight up there.. if we clear 'em out, go 'round either side of the house, there's bound to be a way inside." Glancing behind you to see the other walkers closing in, you let out a frustrated groan, getting yourself ready to run. "Gah!" If we make it out of this, Dixon, I'm gonna kill you myself!" You yelled, running off towards the house before he had a chance to sass you back. Clearing out your half of the yard, you quickly checked the front door to see if it would open but had no such luck. You continued round to the side of the house, killing off any stragglers. Finding a window above a pile of old wood, you attempted to climb up it to get a better grip of the window. When it didn't budge, you went to smash it but was interrupted when you felt hands grabbing at you, knocking you unstable. You let out a startled yelp as you struggled to keep the walker at bay, fighting to hold it back so you could reach for your weapon. It was just out of your reach, you could feel the tips of your fingers grazing it, scrambling to get some kind of traction to get a better grip. Daryl rounded the corner, stabbing the thing in the head and throwing it off you. "Finally you show up," you snapped at him, standing up quickly and grabbing your gun. "That's a funny way of sayin' thank you fer savin' yer ass." You just scoffed, holding your arm, not having any time to check the damage. "Did you find a way in?" "'Course I did, Princess. This ain't my first rodeo." You ignored his comments and followed him to the back door, barricading yourselves inside. After checking the rest of the house, you allowed yourself to relax just a bit once you knew it was cleared. Daryl set his things down on top of the counter and looked around the kitchen, checking to see if there was anything edible to eat. You wandered off in search of a mirror to tend to your arm. Raiding through the medicine cabinets and drawers, you didn't find much that would help. Just a tolerably clean cloth and some gauze. You started cleaning around it, as best you could, wadding up the cloth, dropping it, getting frustrated with... just... everything.

"Need help?" Daryl's voice brought you out of your head. You only looked at him for a second, getting a glimpse of him leaning against the doorframe before looking at your arm again. "I got it." He scoffed. "An infection is what yer gonna get if ya don't clean it right." "It'll have to do until we get back, won't it? I don't exactly have a lot of options here." "Water might help at least." "You see any water lying around?" "Yup..." Daryl stated simply, holding up a half filled jug. You kept your gaze on him, your eyes narrowing at him in irritation. Snatching the jug from his hand, you set it down harshly on the sink. You struggled with getting the cloth wet, not really able to use your injured arm. "Let me help." He pushed himself from the door frame. "I said I got it." Daryl didn't accept that answer, knowing you were just being stubborn. He reached over and grabbed the cloth from you, getting it damp before raising it as a silent request to keep going. Without saying anything, you contemplated for a long moment before slightly turning your body so he could get at it better. "This'll sting a bit," Daryl spoke gently, taking the water and pouring it over the wound, causing you to let out a hiss and jerk your arm back. "That hurts!" "I told ya! Ya can't get mad at me after I warned ya." You just huffed, turning back so he could continue cleaning the wound. After setting the rag down, he grabbed the gauze and gently gripped your arm, but before he could place it, you jerked out of his hold again. "Don't touch me!" Daryl let out a breathy sigh of frustration. "How am I supposed ta bandage ya up if I can't touch ya?" You stared daggers into him but he just stared back. The longer you stared at him, the more realization set in that being angry wasn't going to help anything. You weren't even really angry, you were just frustrated and overwhelmed. Daryl was only trying to help and you needed to calm down. Going back to where you were, you turned your body so he could fix you up, letting him do what he needed to. He placed the gauze on your arm and wrapped it as neatly as he could, tucking the end piece in to the rest of the material. "There... now ya have a better chance of yer arm not rotting off." There was a faint hint of smirk at the corner of his lips that you would have missed if you weren't looking at them.

You glanced down at your arm as you pushed off the sink. "My hero," you responded sarcastically. There was a beat before you looked up at him again. "Thanks..." There was another pause as you examined his face, that playful smirk vanished. "I mean it. Thank you," Your voice was softer, more relaxed. Daryl gave a soft nod before leaving the bathroom and heading towards the kitchen. "I'm starvin', I think I saw an opossum on the back porch." The moment was gone. You let out a loud groan as you followed behind him, revving up to give him an earful!

[pokkomi]

8:21 am - pavia

you’ve always been fond of rainy days. the calming and somehow nostalgic scent always lingering in the air as you’re comfortably snuggled in your pile of blankets.

recently, you’ve discovered that pavia enjoys them as well. so now, it’s a routine every time to stay in bed just a little longer to appreciate each other’s presence in the weather. however, today was definitely not the day for lying in, given vertin’s reminder yesterday about the strategy meeting today for future missions.

“pavia, we have to get up soon or else we’ll miss the meeting-!”

you struggled in his embrace with a pout on your face—he’s not tricking anyone with the fake sleep. knowing pavia, he’d probably already woken up hours prior. a few more gentle hits to his chest earned a mischievous grin from him as he rolled you over and buried his head into your neck.

“just a few more minutes, amore mio~”

“vertin’s going to scold us again, love.”

he smirked, “don’t be so uptight, cucciolo, what’s she gonna do? kick us out?”

you give up any further attempts to escape; arguing with him is futile. never once have you ever won—he would always look at you with love in his eyes while wearing a smug face against your complaints.

“uah! whatever, if you get hurt during the next mission it’ll be your problem,” you grumbled.

pavia grinned as you conceded to his persuasion. he rose from your neck and gave you a peck on your forehead. “as if you won’t be the one patching me back up.”

you gave him a warning look. “i’ll leave you bleeding to death the next time you come back all beaten up.”

“mmh, sure you will~”

the light tapping of the rain along the window panes accompanied the playfulness in his voice, and you feel your eyelids drooping. rainy mornings with him always gets you like this. the comfort of his grasp wraps around you with safety. you were just finding yourself slowly drifting back to sleep when-

bam!

“i knew you two would be here,” the abrupt slam of the door and vertin’s reprimanding surprised you and you sat up quickly, almost knocking out pavia while doing so.

“a-ah, uhm, hey vertin! good morning?” you peeped, now fully awake.

pavia grunted at vertin’s interruption to what could’ve been a lovely morning with you. “ah, our great heroine,” his tone dripping with sarcasm, “what’s all this now?”

vertin sighed and pinched her nose bridge, “i knew you would pull something like this. meeting’s in 10 minutes, so get yourselves ready.” she gave pavia a look and nodded politely to you before shutting the door.

pavia growled and rolled his eyes before turning back to you—or where you were just sitting. embarrassed after vertin’s interruption, you had quickly gotten out of bed and tried to get dressed as quickly as possible, hoping not to add any more fuel to the fire.

“c’mon, pavia, we cannot be late to the meeting after that!” you exclaimed, red at the ears.

pavia sighed very audibly for you to hear as he climbed out of bed as well. one of his wolves nuzzled its snout against his leg, content that its friend finally got out of bed. “good girl, andrea,” he pets her head, “looks like someone is in a hurry, huh?” you glared at him, nearly shouting at him to get. himself. ready. you can feel a headache rising from the amount of times you’ve repeated yourself.

“alright, amore mio~” he walked over to you and kissed you on the neck before also getting dressed. “you have to promise me a bowl of gelato later though, ‘kay?”

“yea, yea, strawberry flavoured per usual, boss.” you huffed, face flustered from his kiss.

tagging: @kitorin