#she can’t see what her friends are saying because you’re HARASSING HER

[killsaki]

i hate how uncool social media has become in the way that everyone is trying to be cool. why do people need to “boycott” perfectly good products that could be donated to people in need—by mass buying them and destroying them on video, or why do we film strangers in public, harassing them and then getting angry and painting them to be a horrible person online for millions of people to see when they just wanted to be left alone. in public. but this also includes the platforms themselves. kinda wish that they would just shut up and make their apps function. make them easier to use, add more settings for how we want to navigate our time on the apps. why does twitter come out with a new “feature” every week? why does instagram and facebook to copy every single other app in existence? why do these people think that fucking pinterest and tiktok are so popular? because they keep the same format, they keep their apps usable, and they don’t add unnecessary shit every 5 seconds.

[steviebbboi]

Good For It

Pairing: Ari Levinson x F!Reader

Word Count: 8.1k~ (no idea how this happened) 🫣

Summary: Ari was deeply misunderstood by everyone except you. What happens when someone tries to hurt the one person he cares about the most?

Disclaimer: This is my submission for @stargazingfangirl18 writing challenge, "Siri's Birthday Bonenanza"~ Thank you to Siri for hosting this, and hoping that you all enjoy this as much I loved writing it :)

***I don't give any permission for this to be reposted anywhere! Pls do not steal work, plagiarism isn't demureeee~~~~

Warnings/Triggers: 18+ Minors DNI; Mentions/threats of violence, mentions of drugging reader (not by Ari), mentions of sexual harassment (again, not by Ari), explicit language, explicit smut, oral sex (f. receiving), p in v, angst, fluff, mentions of trauma, PTSD-like symptoms, Lumberjack!Ari, Veteran!Ari.

Prompts: Ari Levinson x F!Reader feat. Bryce Langley (not involved with Reader at all) + "The moment you or babe realize you’re in love with the other" + "Scary!babe is in love and a simp for you" + "Playful trolling/banter"

Quote Prompts: “Why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” + “Goddamnit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” + “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. + “Can you just…hold me, please?”

Trope Prompt: Scary, dangerous!babe who is only soft with you

Kink(s) Prompt: Size kink + Praise kink + Squirting + Manhandling +soft!dom (ish) + Possessive!babe + breeding (ish?)

Other kinks: mild choking, spanking, overstimulation (if I missed any TW, feel free to lmk)~

Rowdy laughter and the clinking of glasses came into earshot as you pushed the bar doors open. You greeted the bouncer as you usually did and gave a quick scan of the back of the bar. Once you found who you were looking for, you felt your lips quirk into a small smile as you headed toward the back.

Ari Levinson, the local town recluse with only four friends (including yourself and the bouncer-ish). He’s a retired military veteran and is known as “that weird, scary dude who lives alone up in the mountains.” To be fair, the town’s whispered descriptions of him were not entirely inaccurate.

You could feel the regular, daily stares coming in hot as you continued walking toward the back booths. Although you were used to it at this point, you could feel yourself becoming more tense as the whispers started to creep through.

A tired sigh escaped your lips as you passed by one woman in particular who seemed to always let out a muttered comment under her breath—all synonymous with criticism that you never took lightly.

“Poor girl doesn’t know what she’s doing. She’ll end up in the morgue someday.”

“He just has her wrapped around his finger, huh? Someone should say something.”

“You know he almost beat a guy to death a year ago. What is a sweet girl like her doing with a guy like him?”

“Nobody told her to leave the undesirables alone.”

Any and all comments surrounding Ari’s character felt crushing every time you heard them. In the beginning of your relationship with Ari, you used to cry yourself to sleep every night because some of the comments were so scathing. All these people were just judging you because you were with a person that you deeply cared about.

Ari would be there every night to soothe you (he didn’t care as much about what others said). He would wipe your tears by holding your face in his big hands and kiss you until you couldn’t remember what you were crying about in the first place.

See, there are things that people don’t know about Ari. They judged him based on his background and one incident at the mill. He was hulking over everyone at 6'5", his stature and demeanor a bit more closed off and quiet. When people tried to say hi to him, he would give them a small grunt and continue on his way. He wasn’t a small man by any means, emotionally or physically (of which, your size difference is something you both indulge in, in many ways).

The problem was that they only saw and perceived things from the surface. They didn’t see all of the qualities underneath that make him so desirable, wanted, and valuable to you. With Ari, you felt protected, safe, and secure in ways that you had never experienced before. You never felt disrespected by him in the slightest. People didn’t see that, even through his dark aimless stares or quiet mumbles and grumbles, he still cared and was incredibly kind.

One day, you were working furiously on your laptop as you sat on Ari’s couch. Your work was demanding, and more often than not, you would work your remote 9-to-5 job straight through without taking care of yourself. Ari only ever gazed at you with curiosity and never said anything about it. Although you could tell from his stare that he disapproved of your self-negligence. The next time you sat working, Ari placed some dinner on the coffee table in front of you. The smell of the hot, homemade food made your tummy rumble as you stopped typing after four hours of working nonstop to look up at him with surprise.

“Eat,” Ari said simply and reached out to stroke the exposed skin peeking out from underneath the blanket on top of you before heading back to the kitchen. You usually wouldn’t let anything get in the way of your work, but his act of care was so wholesome and precious that you stopped and ate the whole thing.

Ari came back once you were finished to sit down next to you under the blanket with a book. He made an effort to get comfortable by placing his large, calloused hand on your inner thigh underneath your now-shared afghan before getting back to his reading. You could only stare at him, astonished by how this beefy, quiet giant of a man managed to not only get you to pause your work but also make you eat (disrupting your chain of focus and habits was not an easy feat, just ask your ex-partners). He let out another deep grumble when you kissed his bearded cheek with a soft thank you as you put away your laptop and leaned into his shoulder to read with him.

It was then that you realized Ari, depicted as this scary, violent, tainted, isolated person, was deeply misunderstood.

It was also the moment that you realized you were deeply in love with him.

Coming out of your reverie, you let out the tension that had been carried in your chest as you saw your man start to turn as you finally approached the booth. Your soft smile turned into a genuine grin when your eyes met his. You greeted Sammy (his third friend) as you went to scoot next to Ari. You put an arm around him to give a gentle rub on his large back while giving him a quick kiss on his cheek. As usual, he gave you a quiet, deep mumble of acknowledgement but proceeded to put his muscular arm around you protectively, giving you the opportunity to place the hand that had been shoved to your side around his thick, jean-clad thigh.

“What are we talking about?” You engaged Sammy first, knowing that Ari would likely be more of an active listener, as he usually was.

Sammy and Ari were in service together, along with Rachel (the bartender and the fourth friend, completing the group). Ari was noticeably relaxed with them, as he was with you, but you had no idea how they got the man to talk. You heard stories of their time in active duty, but they never went beyond surface-level details. You knew Ari had done some dangerous work during his time in the military; he never really talked about it, but you could surmise that he was still recovering from it, especially since that incident a year ago.

“Oh, you know, same old, same old. Rachel threw beer on a guy who was trying to score free drinks by hitting on her,” Sammy said with a smirk.

You laughed freely. “Man, I wish I had been there to see it! Some newbie at the office messed something up, and who has to fix it? Me, of course.” You rolled your eyes and put a hand to your forehead to rub away the fatigue.

“Did you eat, baby?” Ari cut in quietly. You turned to meet his concerned gaze and gave him a soft smile with a rub to his knee. “Yes, honey. I was able to have my assistant run out to grab some grub. Don’t worry.”

He gave another affirmative grunt with a nod and shifted to hand you a beer that was hidden at the end of the table. You huffed out a quiet laugh before giving him one last squeeze on the knee before reaching for the drink gratefully. Of course, Ari had already gotten you a drink but only gave it to you after you gave your daily report. He was always looking after you.

“When are they going to gear up and give you that promotion?” Sammy asked, shaking his head.

You gave a despondent shake before sighing. “You know, they’re a small company. I think we’re understaffed as it is right now. That’s why these new hires keep making these small mistakes.”

“Aaaand that’s why they need to promote you to manager, to teach some sense into ‘em! Ari’s always sayin’ you’d be a great supervisor.” He replied with an encouraging smile.

Now you were the one letting out a small questioning mumble while looking down at your drink bashfully. You felt Ari stroke the back of your arm with a firm gentleness, and you knew it really meant, “Yes, you do deserve more.” 

This kind of touch was often a reminder for you to believe in yourself and that you deserved better things (a tough job for your ex-partners, you might add). Ari had seemingly broken a cycle for you, helping you genuinely care about yourself in a way you hadn’t before. (All the ways he protects you are just sickeningly cute, aren’t they?)

Bringing yourself back to the present, you gave Sammy a stronger “hm” in response and said, “I know. I mean, when will these bastards just wake up?”

Sammy gave a shout of laughter and a “hell yeah”  before giving you another supportive response. You turned to Ari briefly to give him another smile of appreciation, only to notice that he was already looking at you. But the glint in his eyes… you hadn’t seen that before. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you registered Sammy announcing he was going back to the bar for another drink.

The two of you were now alone, just observing each other. A shiver ran down your spine at his piercing gaze as you asked quietly, “Everything okay, honey?”

At your reserved tone, Ari gave you a subtle, tilted smile. “I love you,” he said simply.

Your breath hitched, and you felt your eyes widen at his surprise revelation. You knew that you loved Ari, maybe even before you realized it yourself. There were many ways the two of you showed your love and care for each other—from cooking food for each other to gentle caresses during more intimate moments. However, this was the first time either of you had ever said it out loud.

Now you were the one stumbling over your words, struggling to respond, swallowing thickly as you tried to say it back. It’s not that you felt you couldn’t, but the man had just revealed that he loved you, in a bar no less! The guy was usually full of grumbles, deep hums, and mumbles. You never would have expected him to reveal something so vulnerable and intimate in an environment like this. You figured your actions would be proof enough, and that was okay with you. You accepted that about Ari—you never expected him to actually say it.

At your floundering, Ari had a full-on smirk on his handsome face. He seemed to appreciate how the tables had turned. You stopped your mumbles once you saw his reaction to your shock and squinted your eyes in fake indignation. His smirk only grew wider, the glint you noticed earlier now turning into an affectionate mirth that you knew Ari reserved just for you.

“Damn him and his sexy, lumberjack hotness,” you thought to yourself. You and Ari both knew you loved it when he teased you like this. You pretended to be upset, but it was all part of how well the two of you bantered throughout your relationship.

Most of your relationship involved speaking in a language your friends couldn’t quite understand, which only played into the image of how polar opposites you two were. But you and Ari reveled in it, just like Ari was now. You were more embarrassed at being caught stumbling on your words, and felt the need to beat him in your little game. The man hadn’t even said anything in the past minute, and he was already winning. He knew how you felt about him; it was just fun for him to see you all flustered.

“HA– alright, Mr. Grumbles. I’m going to get us some more drinks. Did you want anything else?” you said begrudgingly while gathering your glasses to bring back to the bar.

“No, baby. Sammy said he was going to get us some, though.” Ari conceded his smirk (and victory). Speak of the devil, and he shall appear—Sammy came up behind you to slide back into the booth, but with only one drink in his hand. You and Ari stared at him and then looked back at the beer with questioning eyes.

Sammy got comfortable and noticed both of your stares only when he realized that nobody was talking. Glancing down at his own drink, then toward your empty glasses, and back to your amused stares again, he muttered abashedly, “You didn’t say I had to get you another drink too.”

You let out a small giggle and looked back at Ari again to repeat, “Did you want anything else, baby?”

Ari responded with the same amusement in his tone. “No, love.” He grinned back at you as he said the endearment, which only furthered your fake ire. You pouted your lips in playful anger and met his beguiled stare with your own before standing up from the booth.

As you gathered the empty glasses again, you saw Ari attempting to grab them from you as he also stood up from his seat.

“No– don’t worry, Ari. I’ve got it,” you reassured him, but he ignored you and responded only with a grunt. He proceeded to scoot out of the small booth, hunched over the table.

Letting the glasses go, you pressed down on Ari’s shoulders hard to shove him back into his seat. His eyes widened in surprise at the forceful touch as he sat back down, but you knew you hadn’t hurt him. If anything, he lurched back from you since he didn’t want to bump into you while attempting to get out.

“Goddammit, will you just fucking let me do this for you?” you scolded him in feigned anger. You grabbed the glasses quickly and scurried away before he could respond. You only heard him and Sammy laughing at your retreat before the chatter from the other end of the bar became more prominent as you approached.

Setting the two glasses down on an empty section of the bar top, you leaned over slightly to catch Rachel’s perceptive gaze. She nodded with a smile on her face as she made you two new drinks. Glancing around the rest of the bar with mild interest, you couldn’t help but reflect on Ari’s intimate reveal.

A smile spread onto your lips, and you let out a small laugh to yourself. You were in love with a man who communicated with short hums and grunts, and with only three words—he had unraveled you. You felt so happy in that moment to be with someone who could meet you where you were, for once.

At first, you were intimidated by the looming lumberjack, but as you got to know each other, you grew to understand that he didn’t need big, fancy words to connect with you. Ari was the kind of partner who was straightforward with you and never hid anything maliciously while still respecting the integrity of your relationship. You felt grateful to be a part of each other’s lives.

Floating mindlessly in your thoughts, you didn’t notice the man staring at you across the bar. You also didn’t notice him approaching until you heard him say, “Hey there, what are you smiling about, sweetheart?”

Glancing over, the giddiness you felt thinking about your relationship with Ari was now interrupted by feelings of annoyance and suspicion. “I’m good, thanks,” you responded dismissively, not even bothering to answer his question.

“Aw, c’mon—just wanna talk a bit. Hey, are you with anyone right now?” the guy persisted.

Looking at the intrusive person, you could tell he was a bit younger than you. His polo shirt was disheveled, and his demeanor seemed careless. If his side-swept hair wasn’t an indication of his immaturity, it was the way he reeked of alcohol and weed. A smug smile lifted on his face as he assumed you were checking him out, when in reality, you were trying to piece together how to shut this down and walk around him on your way back to the booth.

“Uh, I am. Just waiting for our drinks,” you answered shortly, hoping your dismissiveness would be enough to make him go away. Heckling men never seem to take the hint when you’re not interested, and it seems like telling them off only riles them up more.

“Well, if I were your friend, I certainly wouldn’t have let you come up here by yourself. There are some weirdos out here, y’know?” He leaned onto the bar and into you, his body too close for comfort. You leaned back and crossed your arms defensively.

“I’m sorry—let me? Listen, kid—you got one thing right: there are weirdos out here. Almost like some weirdos just don’t seem to get the hint when they’re harassing women who only want to be left alone by the bar.” You couldn’t hold in your snark as this misogynistic asshole seemed to only smile wider at your reactions.

“Right! That’s why you’re lucky I’m here, sweetheart. Considering that I’m being so helpful by giving you this piece of advice, I think that now makes us friends.” He laughed, ignoring your irritation.

“Everything okay here?” You looked up to find Rachel putting down the newly made beers while looking the stranger dead in the eyes. You could see him squirm a bit, and you stifled a giggle—you were always amused to see her put men in their place.

“It’s okay, Rach. I’m heading back to those two dummies, anyway.” You left some bills on the counter. Rachel gave you a look since she always insisted drinks were on the house for you, but you never really listened. She took the money anyway, gave the guy one last daggered look, and made a small dismissive sound before leaving to attend to other customers.

Ignoring Rachel’s reaction, he turned to you and said, “Well, where are these two dummies you speak of? Are they cute like you?” He looked over at the general crowd of women lingering behind you.

You cleared your throat at his blatant ignorance. “Actually, my two dummies are over there.” You pointed to the back where Sammy and Ari’s profiles could be briefly seen.

He followed your hand to see the two men sitting there and let out a surprised “ah.” He looked back at you after seeing the men but couldn’t help but do a double take once he recognized one of them.

“Wait, you’re that guy’s friend?” he asked incredulously, looking at you expectantly.

You gave him a warning look and made an affronted sound. “Careful. ‘Friends’ don’t talk to their friends like that. Now, if you’ll excuse me.” You gestured to take your drinks, which seemed to snap him out of his shock.

“Hey, hey—wait! Relax, relax. That just took me off guard, but… I mean, you do know what he did, right?” He gave you the same look others would give you, almost disgusted, as if he couldn’t believe a ‘girl like you’ would be with a ‘guy like him.’

Your eyes narrowed and you huffed an exasperated breath, preparing to retort, but were interrupted by a voice yelling, “Yo, Bryce, hurry up!” You looked to the end of the bar to see another young man in a polo (god, these entitled kids are a dime a dozen) looking over at you. They wore the same cocky, smug smiles, and you were immediately done with this interaction.

Letting out a scoff, you replied, “Well, Bryce, it’s been real. Now, please, leave me alone.” Not mincing words nor your mocking tone, you started to grab your drinks when you froze in place, frowning as you noticed one of your drinks had an abnormal fizz on top.

“Are you kidding me? Did he just…?” Your thoughts felt scattered as you realized that your drink had been spiked. Your frown persisted as you looked back at Bryce in disbelief. “Did you really just do that?”

Bryce looked nonchalant at your question and, almost innocently, responded, “What are you talking about, sweetheart?” He had a dopey look on his face, but he couldn’t even hide his rising grin at your growing outrage. You knew you weren’t overreacting and you knew what you saw in your drink.

“You just spiked my drink—what the fuck is wrong with you?!” You accused and turned to catch Rachel’s attention. A strong grip twisted your arm back to Bryce as he looked at you with something completely vile in his eyes. He leaned in close to whisper in your ear with venom as you leaned back and attempted to get his hand off you. “Stuck-up bitch. You know you would’ve been asking for it if you didn’t have your killer boyfriend to cover you.”

Feeling his hot breath in your ear made you panic even more, his unrelenting grip getting tighter by the second. You shouted while trying to push him off you, “Get the fuck off of me! LET GO!”

You flailed your limbs more in your attempts to make a scene. You heard a barstool crash to the ground loudly, and all of a sudden Bryce’s fingers were no longer around your arm. The only thing in your vision was a person’s vast back.

Ari.

Catching your breath from your panic, the sounds of the bar that had seemed to mute during your thrashing suddenly tuned back in. You registered pained groans and the utter silence, yet concerned murmurs scattered across the room. Looking over from behind Ari’s back, you saw Sammy putting a hand in between Ari and Bryce, who was now on the floor, clutching his nose with blood spilling out rapidly.

“You fucking prick! I’ll press charges!” Bryce shouted from the ground as his friends crowded around him, trying to get him up.

Rachel raised her voice to be heard amidst the chaos and said, “I saw what happened, asshole. I’d be happy to call the cops and let them know about you and your buddies’ attempts to sexually harass my customers.”

Bryce, now being held up by his friends, looked over at Rachel menacingly. Rachel didn’t back down and walked towards the phone on the wall. “Shall we?”

Bryce hissed in pain from his new injury and looked back to meet Ari’s stone-cold eyes. Sammy turned to face Bryce and his friends with a look of caution, almost ready to get into a fight if it came to that.

Bryce took a heavy gulp, attempting to stare Ari down with bravado. He then locked his jaw and scoffed, “Whatever, I’m out of here.”

The bouncer suddenly appeared behind you, making you startle slightly, and pushed the group toward the exit. As they got closer, you hid yourself behind Ari’s back and gripped his shirt tightly for comfort. You could feel Ari’s hand reach for your waist, and you assumed he could sense your shaking and wanted to offer you more protection and ease.

In your peripheral vision, you could see and feel Bryce’s eyes staring at you, almost as if he wanted to say one last thing. But Ari’s grip on your waist tightened as he turned to face Bryce directly, orienting you with him and blocking his gaze from you. Though you couldn’t see it, Ari looked deadly in that moment, removing any access Bryce had to your presence.

“If you ever come back in here, and if I ever see you near her again, I will hurt you,” Ari said quietly, but his warning reverberated across the large space. “And you know that I’m good for it.”

Bryce, still clutching his nose, averted his gaze and continued moving toward the exit.

As the group exited, people still looked over but gradually returned to their tables and muttered conversations. The jukebox came back on at a lower volume, and people eventually resumed their activities.

You were still clutching Ari’s back as you released a sigh of relief. You leaned into him, your forehead resting between his shoulders. The adrenaline had left you with residual energy, and it was noticeably hard for you to regulate your emotions. Ari heard you release one more exhale in an attempt to calm down before he turned to meet your tight grip with his strong hands.

“Hey, hey, you’re okay, baby.” He released your hands with one last squeeze and cupped your face sweetly. He whispered more reassurances as he pulled your face close to his and leaned down to give you a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Sammy, we’re gonna get going.” Ari glanced at the teary-eyed look on your face and knew you couldn’t stay. He wouldn’t have expected you to, either—he was accustomed to chaotic and loud environments, able to regulate during scary situations. Ari knew this was exceptionally jarring for you, and he desperately wanted to protect you from any feelings of unsafety. His priority since you entered his life was to preserve your softness, and if his hard exterior could help do that, he would go to any length to ensure you felt secure with him.

“Of course, check in and get home safe.” You also turned to give Sammy and Rachel a soft smile and a quiet ‘thank you.’ If there was any effort to expend, it would be that.

They returned your smile with reminders to be safe while driving home, and Ari took your small hand in his to lead you to the exit. You both passed by the bouncer, who returned Ari’s thanks for earlier with an affirmative nod and also gave you a parting “feel better.” You muttered your appreciation and clutched Ari’s forearm with your other hand still in his. You felt that if you weren’t right by his side, if he weren’t touching you, the panic would rush back in.

On the car ride back to Ari’s place, you kept yourself as close to him as possible. The truck’s seats facilitated closeness; Ari wrapped his right arm around you protectively while driving with his left.

Ari appreciated that you felt safe with him. Unbeknownst to you, his own panic about losing you crept in whenever you weren’t by his side.

His arm wrapped around you tighter, and his caress provided comfort for him as well during the rest of the ride home.

Later that night, after Ari got out of the shower, you noticed cuts on his knuckles from his punch earlier.

“Ari, why didn’t you say anything earlier? Come here.” You scolded him as you led the giant of a man (a very half-naked, still wet giant of a man—okay, focus) to sit on the toilet seat.

“Baby, it’s fine—” Ari began to say, but you interrupted him, “Honey, let me do this—why can’t you just let yourself be loved?!” Ari let out a rare scoffed smile at ​​your dramatic flair before acknowledging you with his usual grunt. You returned his smile and gave him a kiss on the forehead.

Ari watched you as you ventured over to the bathroom counter to gather the first aid kit. You were already in your sleep clothes—simple camisole and shorts. Though he remained silent, you could feel his eyes roaming over your newly exposed skin. You glanced up at the wide mirror and caught him in the act as his gaze lingered a bit too long on your ass. You stifled a small laugh, and his eyes met yours unashamedly.

You turned to walk back over to him, and his eyes never left yours as you took his palm gently between your hands. As you cleaned the small wound, you could feel his gaze burning on your skin. You took your time patching him up, and with the last bandage, you brought his burly hand to your lips, planting a meaningful kiss on his knuckles. Continuing to brush your lips against the back of his hand, you left more kisses until you reached the underside of his wrist.

Ari’s gaze darkened with every peck of affection you left on his clean skin. As you raised his hand to rest it on your cheek, Ari’s other arm wrapped around the low of your waist, pulling you in closer. Deciding you weren’t close enough, you straddled his towel-clad waist. Enjoying the intimacy, you both savored the simplicity of feeling safe in each other’s embrace. Your arms wrapped around his neck as you softly caressed his wet strands of hair away from his face. Tucking your face into the crevice of his neck, you closed your eyes and hummed contentedly, feeling his large hands rub up and down your back. You felt so small enveloped in his arms.

“Look at me, baby,” Ari whispered softly. He laid a calloused hand on your cheek and stroked it gently with his thumb. His other arm remained wrapped around you to support you, and he said, “I know that we don’t talk about this often enough, but I want you to know that I would never hurt you. Ever.”

You gave Ari a confused look. “I know that, Ari. I trust you. I always feel safe with you.” His eyes were full of concern as you rushed to reassure him. Your own hand rested on his bearded cheek. “I know that what happened at the mill last year has lingered a bit.”

He turned his gaze downward until you cooed at him, making him look back at you. “Hey, I know you. I know that you were only doing what you thought was right. At that moment, it was about protecting Sammy. The guy was making threats against you both. It made sense that you went to defend yourself.”

Ari was quiet for a minute. You continued stroking his cheek to let him process. This was a vulnerable conversation for Ari that his usual grunts couldn’t explain.

He broke the silence by saying, “I lied to you.”

Your heart froze, and you felt even more confused. Your hand dropped back down to grip his bulky shoulder. “What do you mean?” you asked tentatively.

Ari met your curious gaze with an ashamed look. “He wasn’t making threats against Sammy… he was saying things about you. Us. How a woman like you shouldn’t be with someone like me—‘damaged goods.’”

Lines formed between your eyebrows as you tried to register what Ari was saying. Leaning into your silence, he continued, “Then he started saying that he would be a better fit for you. He talked about all the ways he would treat you better, and then he shoved me and… I just lost it.” Ari’s mouth twisted grimly, and his eyes held a weighted look. “I just… didn’t want to lose you.”

Swallowing thickly, you reflected on that time in your relationship when you heard about Ari being involved in an accident at the mill. It wasn’t until you saw him that you realized there had been no accident, and that Ari had put his co-worker in the hospital. Of course, you worried about the implications of his actions and what it would mean for the two of you. At a certain point, you did question your safety with Ari.

But you remembered meeting him at the station when the police let him go due to it being self-defense (and many of Ari’s co-workers, including Sammy, vouching for the incident). He had the same look that he had now—fear.

In that moment, despite what he had done, you knew there was something so strong and willed behind his reaction. He was so protective and gentle with you, and you believed him. You believed that that was the man that you were falling in love with. You just never would have guessed it came from the fear of losing you.

Realizing you had been quiet for a while as you processed your feelings and what you wanted to say, Ari didn’t move from his position. He licked his lips nervously, waiting for your response.

Releasing a slow breath, you cupped Ari’s face in your hands and looked him in the eye. “You protect, Ari, that’s just what you do.”

Ari exhaled in relief and felt a dark weight lift off of his shoulders, his stomach no longer churning, while putting his forehead to your chest. He moved his arms under your butt and lifted you slightly to do this but you embraced him openly. You stroked his hair again as he started kissing your exposed skin above your breast until he was laying a series of soft kisses up your neck. You both knew what his kisses really meant: “I’m sorry, I love you.”

You hummed out a soft moan as his lips found that spot under your ear that felt extra sensitive to his touch. Turning his face to meet your cheek, he tilted his head slightly so that he could finally reach your mouth. You allowed Ari to control the pace of the kiss and moaned when you felt his tongue softly caress yours. 

The tension in the air quickly thickened into something more primal and electric from Ari’s confession. There was something about this huge, strong man protecting only you that made you feel so worshiped and desired. These feelings start to overcome you and you move to sit on top of Ari’s towel-covered erection only to grind yourself down on him. Ari groaned sensually into the kiss at the feeling of delicious pressure sitting on his hard cock. Your mouths continue languidly meeting each other when you let out a squeak from Ari suddenly gripping your thighs tightly to carry you back into the bedroom. 

You released a squeal as Ari threw you on top of the bed before dropping his towel on the floor. Breathing heavier, you backed up on the bed to get a better look at his glorious sculpted figure and Ari only smirked at your hooded eyes gazing all over his body. Standing at the edge of the bed, Ari decided that you were too far away and he gripped your ankle to roughly tug you back towards him. Letting out another brief squeal and giggle, you quickly sought into his rhythm as he kneeled onto the bed. 

His bulking mass overshadowed you as he leaned forward to place more deceivingly gentle kisses upon the exposed skin of your stomach where your tank top rode up. Your stomach fluttered as you could feel his kisses getting wetter, and were leading down towards your cotton-clad pussy. You whined in anticipation as Ari gently tugged off your shorts to reveal your soaking core. 

Ari let out a deep groan at the sight of your pussy weeping for his touch. Using his hands to spread your legs open to make space for his massive stature, you gasped for air even though he has barely touched you. You stroke the hands holding you down and beg, “Ari, please. Please do something.” 

At your begging, Ari released a louder groan this time. “God, baby. Look at you just creaming for me, and I haven’t even touched you yet. You want me to take care of you, sweet girl?” 

He used his forearms to hold your already squirming legs down as he used his thumb to cut through a string of wet and reveal your thrumming pink clit. Not being able to resist his own yearning, he gave a firm lick up your cunt and released a deep groan at the first taste of you on his tongue. “Oh fuck, you taste so fucking sweet.” He groaned and went back into your cunt for more. 

You sobbed your pleasure at the feeling of his tongue caressing your wet folds, “Yes, please, Ari– please!” His tongue continued licking all over your pussy while he released his own small moans at the taste of you. He made sure to thrust his tongue into your soaked opening before licking his way back towards your now puffy clit. 

Your moans steadily increased in volume and small, short-bursts of whimpers fell out of your mouth as Ari devoured you. Feeling his lips suction at your clit, you mewl and feel his thick finger start to breach your entrance. Your head fell back on the bed, your mouth agape at the sheer pleasure you were receiving from your man. One hand tightly gripping the sheet next to you and the other wrapped in Ari’s hair as you kept him in place, your hips started to thrust back into his mouth and fingers. Not expecting for you to turn so wildly, Ari’s mouth left your clit unwillingly. Letting out a whine at the loss of warmth, you press down on the back of Ari’s head to get him back into position. 

But all of a sudden, you felt a sharp smack on your ass and you let out a yelp. Ari was still thrusting his finger, and inserting a second one, at a slower pace when he looked up at you. His lips and beard glistened with your wetness when he said darkly, “You move an inch, and you’ll be sorry. Do you understand me, baby?”

You could only respond with a soft whimper before letting out another cry as he slapped your ass again. “I said, do you understand me?” 

“Yes, Ari, I understand.” You responded with a glazed look in your eye at the combination of pain from his smacks and pleasure from his domineering words. 

“There’s my sweet girl, so good for me.” Ari said before he kissed his way back to your sopping cunt, his fingers thrusting faster now as his mouth created a suction on your clit again. Releasing out a louder cry at the transition, you could feel Ari’s fingers start to push deeper and curve inside of you to find your g-spot. You let out a sharp gasp once you felt him start to stroke that spongy spot over and over again while his tongue started to softly create a rhythmic pattern on your throbbing bud. 

The other thing about your relationship with Ari is that he was the most vocal when you were fucking. He always let you know how you felt around him and freely praised you as you gave each other the most visceral and intense experience. Anticipating more from him, your body rolled with his fingers to get him even deeper inside of you.

Only squeaking out sounds now, your high-pitched tones of pleasure were music to Ari’s ears. Your wet starting to squelch around his fingers and spurt out of you, Ari knew you were almost there. His fingers thrusted faster into you and curved in deeper with each thrust. He groaned, “Hmm, yeah baby? Is this the spot right here?”

You couldn’t conjure up a response as you were only experiencing the immense pleasure that he was giving to you and almost animalistic groans started leaving your throat. Ari looked up to see your head thrown back on the bed and your upper body contorting, your tanktop having ridden up and was now showing your beautiful perky, round breasts. Nipples peaked in heightened pleasure. Witnessing you like this was a privilege for Ari and he never thought you looked more beautiful than when you were writhing for him in the bedroom. 

A deep desire to witness more of you, Ari increased his efforts by pushing down on your tummy just above your mount. “Yeah, that’s the spot. Be a good girl for me, and let me have it. Let go for me.” He breathes against your slit while giving you one last intentional suck and rapid licking at your clit. 

Inhaling sharply, his words were your undoing as you felt that tight knot inside of you tear in ecstasy. Your head tossed back in euphoria as you cum hard, your pussy clenched around his fingers. Though, Ari didn’t stop thrusting his fingers deep inside of you. Whispering good girl and so sweet against your thrumming folds as he continued to coach you through your release. 

You let out a satiated whimper at experiencing your orgasm but Ari wasn’t stopping. If anything, his fingers curved into your g-spot faster and his tongue licked harder at your humming, swollen clit. You did thrash at the overstimulation. Your disobedience resulted in Ari slapping your ass once more. Even though it was served as a punishment, it seemed to only end up heightening your yearning for a second release. Noticing that your juices were spurting out excessively now, Ari kept slapping your ass as your pussy gripped tighter onto his large fingers. 

Letting out a myriad of whimpers and desperate moans, you sobbed out, “Ari please, please…I can’t do it, please!”

“Yes, you can baby, you can. Don’t you want to be good for me?”

You couldn’t answer him other than your random babblings– you couldn’t even think as you felt so consumed by the pleasure that he was giving you. You felt like you were being consumed by him and adored at the same time. 

A cry left your lips as he slapped your ass harder. “I asked you a question, are you my good girl?”

“Yes, yes, please, let me cum, please!” You sobbed out. 

Ari grunted deeply, “Your pussy is begging for it– you hear that?” He quieted only for the sounds of your own wetness slopping out of you to fill the space. “Mmm, see, I know you can do it, just one more, love.” Ari went back to suckling on your clit while he rubbed and grabbed at your now pink-colored flesh. 

Hearing him use this endearment again as his lips never left your body made your eyes roll up and you inadvertently held your breath as you let go for the second time. You register Ari’s moans and praise against your clit as you squirt your cum into his awaiting mouth. 

All you could let out were quiet mumbles of satisfaction as Ari’s fingers slowed. Your body was still jerking as it carried out aftershocks of your release, and you let out another sharp breath as Ari left one last kiss on your velvety folds. 

You were attempting to catch your breath as Ari kissed his way up your body, spending some time on your nipples by taking one in his mouth while his hand caressed your other breast. Ari brought up his fingers that were just inside of you to stroke your nipple and groaned as you glistened with your own cum. Leaning down, he took your nipple in his mouth again to suck it clean. You moaned softly and arched your back to give him more access as your hands stroked affectionately through his hair.  

Working his way back towards your bite-ridden lips, Ari slanted his wet mouth over yours as you taste yourself on his tongue. The both of you moaned as you continued making out leisurely. Ari pulled back to lick your lips sensually before dipping into your open mouth one more time for his tongue to meet yours in a passionate, sloppy dance.

Ari stroked your hair away from your face. “You ready for my cock, baby?” 

You whined and nodded as he leaned down to give you another wet kiss. You feel him reaching for his cock, hard and resting on your clit heavily. You mewled at him again as he slapped your clit with the wide mushroom head of his cock and he pushed in slowly. 

Groaning together at the feel of his thick cock bottoming in you, Ari lets out a strained moan. “Fuuuck baby, your pretty pussy is just sucking me in. Agh, so tight.” 

He withdrew until he was almost out of you before thrusting back into you deeply. Your eyes rolled back in your head and your mouth fell open as you could feel the veins on his girthy cock graze your inner walls. 

Ari leaned his head back in ecstasy at the feel of you clenching around him. He squeezed his eyes shut and groaned out your name, “Yes, take it, baby. Take my fat cock.” 

You felt like you could barely breathe as his thrusts became faster and harder. He was sinking in so deep and you were gasping for air at all of the sensations your body was experiencing. Besides your mutual groans and moans, the sounds of your union could be heard as you only became wetter at the stimulation. 

“I’m so full, so full…so big, Ari.” You mumbled out, your eyes crossed in ecstasy. Ari let out a condescending laugh, “Aww, look at you. Can’t even speak, can you? Just continue taking my cock, honey, you’re so good at it.” 

Ari leaned up and thrust out of you, despite your desperate whining, only to turn you on your stomach. You feel him kneel outside of your thighs that were clenched together, and only had time to hold onto the pillow in front of you as he thrust back in. You gasped out a high pitched moan and small, repeated sounds of pleasure came out of your mouth as you felt his long shaft pit up against your g-spot with every thrust. 

“There she is, yesss. You’re so fucking tight when I take you like this, baby. Your pussy is gripping me like a vice, goddamn.” Ari groaned louder as your warmth enveloped him. Tension started brewing again deep inside your belly as he thrust faster into you. 

Leaning down, his chest was damp and his hair grazed your smooth skin as it met your back. He lifted you slightly to wrap his right hand around your neck and squeezed. He whispered harshly in your ear, “Don’t ever forget that you’re mine. This pussy is mine, your body. I’ll always protect you, you hear me, love?”

Gripping onto the pillow in front of you fiercely, you couldn’t contain your moans that were now resonating in the room. His possessiveness, his fingers gripping your throat so protectively, and the passion in his words made you feel so hot, you felt that coil in your belly about to snap. The sensation pulling at that area inside of you that felt so full and relieving when released. “Ari, yes, I’m yours! You’re gonna make me cum again!” 

“Yeah, I am, love. Soak my cock, make a mess with my pussy.” He released the grip on your throat to lean back up and take your hips in his hands for full control. His thrusts were consistently hard and deep. It twisted that coil inside of you so delightfully that you finally snapped and cried out your orgasm. 

Ari’s thrusts became sloppier as your juices squirted around his cock. He bellowed out a deep and low groan from his strained throat and followed you as you rode out your orgasm against him. You moan at the feeling of his dick throbbing inside of you and feeling him cum so deep in your pussy made you feel like you were being claimed. His dick was still buried deep inside as you gyrated against him. At the overstimulation, Ari thrust out of you with a sharp hiss and a mixture of your cum with his started to spurt out of you. 

“Fuck, so pretty, baby. Here, let me help you.” He breathed out heavily while his hand left your hip to use his finger to push your combined cum back into your quivering pussy. You moaned out at the sensation of his thick finger thrusting his warm spend further into you and mewled in content. 

Ari kneaded and squeezed your ass one last time before attempting to get off the bed to get a towel to clean you up but you clutched his hand before he could fully leave and pleaded, “Wait baby, stay. Can you just…hold me, please?”

He picked up the hand that you were holding to kiss the back of yours softly and collapsed on the bed next to you as you leaned into his outstretched arms. Cuddling him as your head rested over his chest, you felt him graze his fingers soothingly on your arm. You both were satiated in your passionate release, and after the day that you had, you both were starting to feel the effects of it. 

Embracing you in his arms, the warmth of your body and the softness of your skin felt like heaven against him. Before his sleepy eyes shut completely, you gave him a gentle tap above his heart to get his attention one last time. He peered down at you and gave you a relaxed grin. With his familiar grunt, his eyes questioned your touch. 

You gazed into his blue eyes that were filled with such affection, the same glint that you saw earlier at the bar. A familiar burning in your eyes started to come on at his stare, but you blinked them away to smile back fondly at him. 

“I love you too, Ari.” 

A/N: Welp! We made it -- I'm hoping ya'll enjoyed Ari and reader on this one. Something about Lumberjack!Ari being protective and only having eyes for you makes me feral and that can be the only explanation as to why this is so long lol. I would love to know what ya'll thought! Speak soon, lads~

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[obsessedelusional]

Your Pretend Boyfriend

paring ✦ Eddie Munson x reader

summary ✦ You back from college, visiting during thanksgiving break. Jason Carver has always liked you the feelings not mutual. So when you catch him harassing Eddie you pretend to be his girlfriend. What happens with your pretend boyfriend? CONTAINS SMUT

word count ✦ 3,200ish

authors note ✦ BRO I’m almost to 300 followers and 5000+ likes omg y’all are tooooo sweeet to me hope y’all enjoy this

masterlist ✦ PART TWO

FEEDBACK AND REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!!

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

The sound of your someone calling for you takes your gaze away from your phone. Looking up expecting to see your best friend. The two of you had plans to meet at this restaurant to catch up. You were in town visiting during thanksgiving break.

To your dissatisfaction it’s none other than Jason Carver. You groan annoyed knowing where this was headed. You’re parents were close and they always rooted for the two of you to end up together. Not a single part of you wanted anything to do with him. He was a few years younger than you. Also the worst human being on planet earth.

“You visiting for break?” He smiles leaning on the wall where you’re standing.

“Yup.” You say with no emotions, giving your full attention on your phone. Not wanting to give him the satisfaction of giving him any attention.

“What brings you here?”

“Meeting someone.” You answer eyes still on your phone, scrolling on something random. Pretending to be busy.

“Who?” He ask curiously.

“Can we skip to the part where you say something nasty, I tell you to fuck off and then you leave me alone?” You spit out, disregarding his previous question.

“We should hookup while your in town, give you some good ol dickin’ down. I’m sure those college boys can’t fuck you like I would.” There it is.

“For the millionth time that will never happen.” You respond, desperately waiting for your friend to arrive.

“Sheesh have you’ve always been such a bitch?” He laughs. When you don’t respond Jason walks off deflated.

You pray that is the end of that. Only for him to find his next victim. A curly headed boy you definitely remember, Eddie. It’d be hard to forget someone like him. Jason hated him, for whatever reason which made you gravitate towards him. You two were never all that close only exchanging hellos in the hallways. Occasionally bonding over your hatred of Jason. More than once telling Jason to leave their group alone.

Just as your deep in thought, thinking about Munson your phone dings. It’s the friend you were waiting for, she’s canceling on you. Her two year olds sick and can’t make it. You sigh out loud annoyed but understanding, typing a quick response.

You’re attention goes back to Eddie and Jason. Eddie was sat by himself, probably waiting for someone. Jason is giving him shit for being at a restaurant all by himself. It crosses your mind for a second and before you can realize how bad this idea is your on your way to Eddie’s table.

“Hey babe,” You smile greeting Eddie, confusion immediately spreads across his face. You mouth ‘just go along with it’ as you sit down next to him, careful so Jason doesn’t see. You plant a small kiss on his cheek, his confusion turns to a grin.

“Hey princess,” His arm slings around your shoulder. The pet name sends a heat through your body, you quickly push that away. You look up to Jason who’s slack-jawed.

“There’s no fucking way.” He whines.

“What?” You ask playing dumb.

“There’s no fucking way you two are dating.” Jason responds.

“We’ve been dating for six months, right babe?” You ask nuzzling yourself deeper into Eddie’s embrace.

“Almost seven.” He smiles, proudly.

“We actually have you to thank for that. Bumped into each other, bonded over our dislike for you. Been inseparable since.” You laugh because Jason looks pissed making this so worth it. He goes to speak but can’t get anything out, obviously frustrated.

“We’re gonna have a quick little lunch. Then head back to his place so he can give a good ol dickn’ down. That��s what you called it right?” You watch as Jason’s eyes go wide, full of pure disgust before running out of the restaurant. Once he’s out of hearing range you start erupting out in laughter, Eddie joining you.

“That was amazing. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so speechless.” Eddie talks catching his breath from laughing so hard.

“I can’t stand him. He’s been up my ass for as long as I can remember. Saw the opportunity and took it.” You respond, looking over to Eddie’s who’s arm still rests on your shoulder. He notices you noticing and pulls away.

“You don’t have an actual girlfriend right? Otherwise this’d be kinda awkward.” You ask.

“Yeah actually I do.” Unknowingly your face falls, upset that he does.

“We met six months ago been inseparable since.” He teases, you roll your eyes realizing what he means. A silence falls over you two and you can’t help but feel like you’ve overstayed your welcome.

“I’ll leave you be. Thanks for participating in my antics.” You smile standing up from the table.

“I just got myself a girlfriend I ain’t letting you so quick.” You turn to face Eddie.

“We’ve been dating for all of five minutes and it’s the best relationship I’ve ever had.” He smiles, motioning for you to sit back down. Your intrigued so you sit down, this time on the other side of the booth.

“Are you sure? Someone’s not gonna show up and be upset I’m here?” You ask, seriously not wanting to impose.

“Don’t worry about it. Plans canceled.” He shoots you a smile before pulling his phone out, typing away for a moment.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Hang out with my beautiful older college girlfriend? Whom I only see during school breaks. Or hangout with my friends I see everyday at school? Uhhhh I think I’ll choose my girlfriend.” His words bring a cheesy grin to your lips.

“Okay I guess I can stay and enjoy lunch with my boyfriend.” You sigh, pretending like it’s an inconvenience for you. In reality your happy, your plans fell through and now your sat across from a long haired tatted hottie.

“How old are you? Not trying to catch a case.” You tease almost positive he’s of legal age. Better safe then sorry.

“19.” He responds between laughing at your joke.

—

Lunch with Eddie was amazing, part of you grateful your friend canceled on you last minute. You feel an instant connection, not wanting the date to end quite yet. The two of you are walking out of the restaurant, hand in hand. Your brain scrambling for an excuse to prolong this date.

“So what was that comment you made about a good ol dickin’ down about?” Eddie asks and almost immediately it’s like a light bulb goes off your head.

“Jason’s been trying to make the moves on me since forever. Just before I joined my boyfriend our date he offered to do that me.” You laugh, you’re not sure where you two are headed just following Eddie’s lead.

“You and Jason, you never?”

“Never ever.”

“That’s crazy. I remember rumors went around about the two of you dating all the time.” He says, processing this new information. Jason Carver wanted you yet you were her with Eddie. He was excited by that thought but at the same time puzzled.

“Started by him. He made my high school experience hell.” You admit.

“Same here.” He sighs, you two reaching his van. Realizing this is where the date either continues or ends.

“Should we keep our story going?” You ask. Noticing Jason sat in his car with his friends, he’s watching the two of you. If he wants to watch, you’d give him a show. Mostly for own selfish desires.

“What?” He asks so you nod in the direction of Jason car full of jocks, watching Eddie’s gaze move from you to them.

“I told Jason we’d have a little lunch and then go your place where’d you give me a good ol dickin’ down.” You cringe at the usage of Jason’s phrase. Eddie’s attention whips back to you because of the words coming from your mouth.

“Gotta make it believable, right?”

“Yeah.” He says. Eddie is hesitant not because he doesn’t want to but because he can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic. You push him towards his van, his back hitting it makes a loud thud. If they weren’t looking they are now.

You get closer, closing the gap between you two. Reaching for his hair, running your fingers through it. You had been wanting to do this since you sat at his table. Wishing he’d call you princess again.

“Is this okay?” You ask to which Eddie nods eagerly. Without missing a beat you kiss him. Softly at first, testing the waters. Eddie melts into your touch, his hand reaching around sliding his hands in your butt pockets. He pulls you closer into him, squeezing your ass in the process. Causing you to let out a little gasp surprised by his bravery. He smiles mid kiss only making you want more. The kisses becoming more aggressive, the wetness starting to pool in your panties.

“Get a fucking room, freaks!” Jason yells and then the sound of tires screeching past you two startles you momentarily. You pull away, grinning. Eddie’s eyes are closed, the biggest smile on his face.

“Still don’t think it’s believable enough.” You say, sighing your tone suggestive.

“Really?” Eddie asks, sounding confused.

You roll your eyes, “Your beautiful older college girlfriend wants a good ol dickn’ down.”

“You.. want me to-” He stutters, stopping before you finish for him.

“I want you to fuck me.” His dick twitches in his jeans because of the six words that came out of your mouth.

“Do you want that?” You ask.

“Yes.” He gulps, excited for what’s coming. Hopefully him soon. He opens the car door for you, you climb inside disregarding the fact that you drove yourself here. Your horny brain fogging your mind deciding in the moment you’d figure it out later.

This wasn’t like you, you never hooked up with someone so shortly after getting to know them. You couldn’t help but feel like something about this situation was different. Eddie was different, like a good different.

It’s a very short but also painfully long drive to his home. Eddie’s never been so thankful for his uncle to be out of town, couldn’t of picked a better time to leave him home alone. The drive is mostly silent, filled with music and stealing glances at each other.

As soon as Eddie parks at his home he’s out of the car running to your door, letting you out. He grabs your hand leading you to the front door. Where he struggles for a few moments to find the right key. Once inside, he shuts the door behind you before facing you. His hands press firmly on your ass to lift you, your legs straddling his body. This time he’s the one to initiate the kiss, carrying you to wherever. You didn’t care as long as Eddie was there.

For a moment your startled when he drops you on his bed. Your allowed a quick glance around his room, taking it in before you look up to see Eddie. He’s shirtless now and his shoes are missing. So you follows in his steps ripping your shoes off. When you go to take your shirt off he stops you with a intense kiss before doing it himself, then unhooks you bra exposing your bare chest.

He pulls away to take in the view, “Fuck you’re beautiful.”

Eddie smashes his lips on yours pushing you back into the bed before kissing down you neck only to stop at your nipple. The sensation is enough for you to let out a sweet moan slightly arching you back into him. Mouth still attached to you while his hands are busy unbuttoning your pants, pulling them down quickly along with your panties.

You curse your self for not wearing something sexier but you had no idea this where’d you be today. Part of you embarrassed you haven’t shaved in a while. Your worries are immediately put at ease when he spreads your thighs, letting his head rest between them.

“Beautiful.” Her murmurs before placing a sugary kiss on your clit, sending a shockwave through your body. His tongue begins rubbing against your bud. Without thinking your hands find his hair, pushing him deeper between your folds. Your head falls back, moans leaving you lips. When you think it can’t get any better, he slips a long strong finger in your pussy. Pumping into you the same pace as his tongue that is still toying with your clit.

“More please-“ You whine and Eddie listens adding another finger, stretching you out. Your a mess under his touch. Never once has a man prioritized your pleasure. You’ve become masterful at giving yourself orgasms. The feeling of it being at the hands of someone else unfamiliar. A good unfamiliarity.

“Fuckk- Eddie I’m..” Your words turn into strangled moans, a tightness growing in your stomach. Your breath hitches as you pulsate on his thick fingers, your eyes rolling back as you come undone. Your busy riding out your high but the feeling of his fingers leaving you brings you back down to reality. His laps up your juices one last time before speaking.

“Mm so sweet.” Eddie purrs sucking on his own two fingers that were covered in your juices. They leave his mouth with a popping sound as he sits up in the bed.

“My turn.” You say barley audible sitting up reaching for the button on his jeans. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your lips around his cock. He stops your hands causing you to look up to Eddie, you cant help but pout.

“I don’t think I’ll last long with your pretty lips sucking me off right now. Next time, okay?” You nod smiling at the thought there’d be a next time. Eddie kisses you pushing your head back onto the bed. Only pulling away to pull his pants off and grab a condom from his bed side table. You watch intently as his pulls down his boxers, revealing his cock. You let out a gasp as it hits his stomach, never once had you seen one this big. Eddie smiles at your reaction while unwrapping the condom. Slowly rolling it over the tip of his dick and down the entirety of his hard length.

Eddie gets back on top of you, spreading your legs. He lets the tip rest on you swollen clit before dragging it down to your hole. Slowly, inch by inch you adjust to his size. He bottoms out, you let out a whimper because you’ve never felt fuller. He uses his hands to lift your thighs up so he can get better angle before starting a slow motion. Pumping in and out of you at a painfully slow pace, only making you desperate for him to pick up the pace.

He leans down to your level, his head resting in the crook of your neck. Your chest being flattened by his. One hand rests at the back of his neck, tightening in his hair and the other hands digs into his back as he bucks his hip harder into you. He’s thrusting harder but you desperately need him faster.

“Faster- please.” You say and it comes out as a whine. You get exactly what you want because he pushed up so he can see you before recklessly pounding into you cunt faster than before. He guides your hands so you can hold your own legs up, using his free hand to find your clit running circles around it sloppily.

“How does that feel princess?” He grunts between thrusts, his finger still playing with your bud. You can’t help but smile at the pet name. He finally said it again. When you don’t respond he rocks his hips harder and you start feeling that tightening in your stomach again.

“Fuck.” You cry out, knowing you’re about to cum for the second time. The sensation of your pussy throbbing on his cock as you get closer to finishing nearly sends him over the edge but he’s determined to make you cum again. His fingers work more tactically on your clit which is just enough to have you gushing on his dick.

“Good girl.” He groans. Not even a second later he’s cumming inside the condom, inside you. Suddenly wishing that thin little layer of latex wasn’t there so you could feel his seed coat your inner walls. He kisses you sweetly one last time before pulling out and falling next to you. His chest heaving up and down as he tried to catch his breath. You rest on his chest, listening to his heart beat.

“Was that believable?” He asks, out of breath.

“What?” You ask confused to drunk on dick to comprehend.

“Was that a good ol dickin’ down?” He laughs. You roll your eyes before nodding your head, yes.

—

The next two weeks we’re spent under and on top of Eddie Munson any chance you got. Dreading the fact that when break came to an end you’d have to head back to school. It was a three hour drive from Hakwins. You just got Eddie and couldn’t imagine having to let go so soon.

Eddie was so grateful Wayne left for the two weeks during thanksgiving break. He had a whole two weeks of uninterrupted time with you. He tried hard no to think about the fact you’d be leaving him in a short time. If he thought about it too much he’d upset himself, usually pushing the thoughts away focusing on the time he did have with you. So to say he was surprised when you invited him to have thanksgiving dinner with your family would be an understatement.

When you found out Eddie would be spending thanksgiving day alone you didn’t hesitate to invite him. Your heart felt for him when he admitted he never really celebrated holidays with Wayne always working. You were determined to make it perfect.

Explaining to you parents why this random dude was coming over on thanksgiving dinner was the hardest part. Only for Eddie to introduce him self as your boyfriend of seven months. They look at you like ‘what the fuck’ to which only caused you to laugh. Cursing yourself for not get your stories straight. More than happy to continue the bit but wished you could of prepared better.

“So how’d you two meet them?” Your father asks curiously. You both say different answers. You blurt out high school and he says you two met at a restaurant.

“We’ll we went to high school together, knew of each other. Ran into each other at Danny’s Dinner and hit it off.” You explain further, their faces telling that they don’t believe anything coming out of your mouth. They never question any further, thankfully.

—

Todays the dreaded day. The day you leave for college. You had already said your goodbyes to your family. Deciding what time you had left would be spent with Eddie. The two of you had just finished fucking for possibly the last time. Your brain had been heavily worried about what would happen when you left. It’s now or never, you need to ask him.

“I’m gonna miss you.��� Eddie sighs. You sit up to face him, he’s laid in bed looking at the roof.

“I’ll miss you too. What are we doing?” You ask, trying to read his reaction. He looks at you with a smile.

“I don’t know about you but I’ve been faithfully committed to you for the last seven months.” He teases.

“I’m being serious Eddie.” You groan.

“Me too, princess.”

“So we are-?” You start to ask and he interrupts.

“Yes we are. Your all mine.” He kisses you.

“All yours.” You melt into his kiss, fucking one more time.

[angelyuji]

yandere headcanons :0

across the spiderverse characters: peter b parker, miles, gwen, miguel, hobie, pavitr

warnings: the usual yandere stuff (kidnapping, manipulation, stalking)

(imagine miles, gwen, pavitr like college age) (gender neutral reader)

peter b

literally so in love with you

he’s not the type to sit and stalk you from a far, but he’s also not straight up kidnapping you

he’ll watch you, find out your interests, find your social media, everything he needs to figure out how to be your perfect lover <3

he becomes your friend and integrates himself into your life

if you like him, he has no reason to separate you from your family or friends becuz he’s the perfect boyfriend. no one has anything negative to say abt him

if you don’t… he’ll do anything to make you like him.

convince you your whole family is evil and he’s the only one really looking out for you

he’s awkward and sweet and kind and so funny and it’s hard not to believe him

wants the American dream life: white picket fence, house in the suburbs, marriage, kids

that’s his dream for the both of you and he doesn’t really care if you don’t have the same dream

“you’re my dream, (y/n). everything i do, it’s always been for you.”

miles (aged up!)

miles is similar to peter b but like also not

very stalker but like without knowing, he’d pass your place over and over during his patrols around the city without realizing

he’d never kidnap you or do anything reallyyy morally wrong

howeverrr he’s absolutely in love with you, so like small little things

stalking, stealing small things from you, finding out the shampoos or different things you use or eat.

he feels closer to you, knowing he knows you better than anyone else.

after a long time, he’ll work up the courage to talk to you (“accidently” bumping into you at a coffee shop or a place you visit frequently) miles (albeit awkward) is a charmer, so you’re instantly smitten.

plus! he loves all the things you do, so you’re a match made in heaven :)

“hey, (y/n)! we meet again!”

gwen (aged up!)

gwen doesn’t try to interact with you much

she’s definitely afraid of putting you in danger or losing you just because you got close

she’ll watch over you and protect you from danger tbh like

for example, sayyy someone was harassing you at work and/or school, you’d probably successfully get that off your ass or at least they leave you alone for the day, butttt gwen would not feel satisfied.

gwen would find where they live and absolutely beat the living shit out of them

seeing someone bother you makes her vision go red like

basically your guardian angel

she would never bother you really just protecting you from afar

you’ll never notice tbh

unless some big bad guy found out that ghost-spider has been following around a random civilian…

well then, she’ll have to keep you safe

she’ll keep you safe in her apartment, whether you want to be there or not.

“every single thing i do, i do it to keep you safe.”

miguel (won’t be writing in spanish cause i don’t know spanish srry guys) (but he def calls you cute nicknames in spanish)

HEHHEHEHEE (my bad im just literally in love)

gwen but like 10000000 times more intense

the moment he lays eyes on you, babes you’re FUCKED

he’s snatching you up

however! the first thing he’ll check is if you’re super important to the “safety” of the timeline

no offense but ur not at all important saurrr FREE GAMEE

he’s definitely kidnapping you and keeping you hostage at HQ

he doesn’t bother with the whole stalking thing or becoming friends or anything like that

he doesn’t care if you don’t want to come with him, your opinions do not matter to him at all

he believes that he’s your protector, that everything that he’s doing is for your own good

you don’t know what’s best for yourself, only miguel knows what’s best for you (at least that’s what he thinks)

his only goal is to keep you with him, he wants a family and he believes that with you… he can achieve his dreams

if you’re a part of the Spider Society, Miguel can’t really do anything to you without other people noticing or disrupting the timeline

but yk… it’s better to be a rando from whatever universe to have miguel’s attention (but that’s just my opinion i suppose)

“you are mine. you will never leave me.”

hobie (will not be writing his british accent sorry im bad at accents)

i love him he’s so funny

you’ve been friends for a long time, he was in a band with you before he quit

he doesn’t really stay in one place for long

he’s a lot like a mix of gwen and miles

he believes keeping you safe is by staying close to you, but he also watches over you when you’re alone

he falls for you because of how positive you are, you never talk badly about anyone, but you’re always down to do anything.

you always join him for every protest, at his every show

he flirts with you constantly, loving how you blush away at the attention

constantly giving you attention and love, but a little manipulative about it at the same time

he never wants to kidnap you or keep you hostage, it’s against everything he stands for

he knows that if you didn’t like him, you’d never be by his side

so he believes that keeping you free is what keeps you near him

“we’re free birds, (y/n). with you by my side, we’re unstoppable.”

pavitr (aged up!) (this is gonna be very non-yandere tbh) (ILOVEHIM)

my little cutie pie i love him

i can’t really imagine being a yandere type character but he would be similar in miles and hobie

no kidnapping or stealing tho

slight stalking, just watching over you all the time, making sure you’re safe

he’s my little cutie pie moroenfakds

he’s flirty and funny

you’d be classmates when you meet him

you’d click very quickly tbh he’s just so easy to get along with

he’s absolutely terrified of your parents, very respectful tho so your parents love him

very passionate about how much he likes you, would quite literally shout it from the rooftops (and he does every day)

ugh i love him

"you're my world, (y/n). i love you so much."

[redstarwriting]

hobie brown with a pink gf

hobie brown x badass pink!fem!reader hcs

request?: yes

request: “HI RED!!!! idk if you’ve done this already but i really wanna see what hobie would be like with a badass pink!gf. like she wears pink demonias nd stuff but can like hold her own yk? i hope this makes sense LMAO”

requested by: anon

warnings:  language, mentions of stealing, alluding to s*xual harassment from men, cops

a/n: omggg the only person i could think of with this request is chrissy chlapecka wearing her all pink outfits and telling everyone to hit men with their cars LMAO thank you for the request, anon🖤

───────────────────────────────────

- givin me chrissy chlapecka vibes - he loves it - listen - if you have any type of distinct style or attitude going against what most people believe - or one that challenges any type of authority or societal beliefs - Hobie immediately respects you - doesn’t necessarily mean he will be best friends with you - but he respects people who he can see have that kind of rebellious “fuck the patriarchy” attitude - so when he saw you - all pink outfit - pink makeup - pink accessories - pink boots that look like they could kill a man - exactly what you intend with said boots btw - he respected it - especially since you seemed to be taking the stereotypical “girl color” (whatever the fuck that means) and putting a spin on it they wouldn’t like - and girl when he saw you kick some man’s ass - all pretty in pink? - he was like ooh yeah - oh she’s the one - he loves to steal anything and everything pink that he sees - all for you - and he does - this style you have is the definition of him saying “Wear whatever you want, I can fight.” - and in response - you just scoff - “I’ll wear whatever I want, I can fight.” - he loves it - he loves that you’re always ready to stomp someone’s face with your pretty little boots - the amount of time he’s actually had to hold you back is amazing - and he doesn’t hold you back because he thinks you won’t beat the person’s ass - or because he wants you to be the ”better person” or whatever the fuck that is - but because he doesn't want the piggies getting any ideas when it comes to you - he knows you can hold your own - but he can’t help but be a little protective of you - and he just doesn’t trust cops - they’d see you looking all pretty and try something - not on his watch - he’ll take over if there are cops around - but if it’s just a slimy man? - he’ll still be there, ready to step in and kill the guy at any time - but you can handle yourself - so he lets you handle yourself - he loves when you paint his nails for him - he has so many shades of pink nail polish now - and you’ll paint his nails all pink all the time - at first, he was kinda like hmmmmm am i gonna like this? - spoiler - he did - he still paints his nails black all the time but when you ask to put some pink in there he’s all for it - he doesn’t realize his flat is slowly becoming more and more pink as you start to move in - because he doesn’t necessarily care all that much - he really likes the color now - but when Gwen comments on it he’s like… oh yeah - “Hobie? Have you found a new love for the color pink?”   “What?”   “Your place. There’s so much pink in here.”   “Oh… (Y/n) and I are gettin’ serious. She’s been movin’ in. But yeah, I do fancy the color pink, now. What of it?” - he does have a favorite shade of pink that you wear - but he loves when you wear all pink - so he acts like he doesn’t have a favorite - but he’s bad at it - cause the minute you wear a bright obnoxious shade of pink? - he’s gone - he’s simpin - he’s in love - he will compliment you more than he already does - which is a lot - and have his hands all over you - needless to say you’ve incorporated that color into your wardrobe a lot more - he just loves your style - and your attitude - the two of you are the government’s worst enemy honestly - and even though you’re a badass - you don’t need a man or anyone for that matter - you have a soft spot for your anarchic asshole - and sometimes you just like to see him be the badass - cause he sure can be - you’re a “don’t fuck with us” couple - a “fuck around and find out” couple - and the two of you wouldn’t want it any other way <3

───────────────────────────────────

[fluentmoviequoter]

Speak Up

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x shy!fem!reader

Summary: Your shyness makes it hard to speak up for yourself. Your boyfriend Deacon makes it easy.

Warnings: angst?, reader is belittled and harassed, fluff and comfort!

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon Kay is unlike any other boyfriend you’ve ever had. Though you are used to disappointment and broken relationships, many of which you blame on your shyness, you know that what you have with Deacon is different. Your relationship is fairly new, you’ve been together less than a year, yet you survived the honeymoon phase and the weeks that followed. Perhaps the most incredible part of Deacon and the relationship you’re building with him is how he treats you. From the beginning, Deacon acknowledged your shyness but has never abused it or treated it as a flaw. He supports you, talks for you when you struggle, and has never shamed you for being shy or falling into quiet moments.

As you move around your home, getting ready to meet Deacon, you realize that Deacon doesn’t know the full extent of your shyness. He knows that you have trouble talking to strangers and look away when he compliments you to hide your warming cheeks. The other part, the one that leads you to be quiet because you know people won’t listen even if you did speak, the one that drives you to watch videos on how to stand up for yourself, is the side that Deacon hasn’t seen. Your phone buzzes and you forget about your struggles being shy as you see Deacon’s name appear on the screen.

You smile at his text, a simple message that he’s looking forward to seeing you. Once you’re ready, you slide your phone into your bag and exit your home. Deacon often runs late for dates, but you don’t mind waiting for him. You’d wait forever for a man like Deacon.

At the restaurant, you linger by the door for a moment. There was no sign of Deacon’s car in the parking lot, but it’s so busy tonight that you wouldn’t be able to see him even if he was here. You consider asking the hostess if Deacon’s here yet, but there’s a crowd around her stand.

“Are you in line?” someone asks behind you.

“No, sorry,” you answer softly as you step out of the way.

“What was that?” the woman asks.

You shake your head this time, and she laughs in your face. There’s nothing to say in response to that, nothing you want to say at least, but when she turns and calls her friends over, your eyes drop to the floor.

“Aw, she can’t even talk,” one of her friends says over their laughter.

“Did you get stood up, honey?” the first woman adds. “I can see why.”

With your eyes on the floor and your bottom lip pinched between your teeth, you don’t see Deacon walk in. You also don’t see him stop to watch the high-school-level bullying you’re facing just for being quiet. He wonders how often you deal with this; how many people have treated you like a doormat that can’t argue rather than the amazing, beautiful woman you are.

“Hey,” Deacon says as he walks to your side.

You close your eyes and sigh in relief when his arm circles your shoulders. However, you tense when you realize what he just witnessed.

“Go back to your table and harass each other,” Deacon tells the woman.

“We were just having a little fun, handsome,” she argues.

“I’m not.”

She rolls her eyes and leads her friends away, whispering about you even as they leave. You want to take Deacon’s hand and thank him, but he steps back before you can.

“Come on,” he urges kindly.

You allow him to take your hand and follow Deacon to your table. Rather than sit across from him, you slide into the same side of the booth and look toward Deacon. He smiles at you, his eyes nothing but caring and loving. Nothing like the judgemental look of the women earlier.

“Thank you,” you murmur. “But it’s fine. I’m used to it.”

“It’s not fine,” Deacon argues firmly but kindly. He takes your hand and presses a kiss to your knuckles. “And you shouldn’t be used to it.”

You shrug, and Deacon raises his other hand to your jaw. He cups it gently as he repeats, “It’s not fine. And what they said wasn’t true. You’re not different or undesirable.”

You nod; the only reason you believe him is because he shows you daily.

“You deserve better than that,” he continues. “I’m not going to convince you to stand up for yourself if that’s not what you want. This isn’t about becoming someone you’re not to stop that from happening, okay?”

“I know,” you assure.

“Besides, you don’t have to do anything about people like that when I’m here.”

You chuckle as he puffs his chest, then lean against his shoulder as you examine the menu before you. Speaking up for yourself won’t be easy any time soon, maybe never, but you know that Deacon will always be here to tell you the truth.

Deacon thinks that he can read you well, and after what he witnessed at the restaurant, he’s convinced that he is getting even better and knowing what you need and want without asking. As you sit on his couch the next evening for movie night, he gets confirmation.

Your legs are folded underneath you, but your shoulders are rigid as you toy with your fingers. You need something, Deacon thinks, and though he’s told you everything here is as much yours as it is his, you struggle to help yourself to what you want. And sometimes, you can’t bring yourself to ask.

“Are you okay?” Deacon inquires during a lull in the movie plot.

You nod and send him a small smile in reply.

“I’m going to the kitchen for a refill. Do you need anything?”

Your eyes drop quickly, but you answer, “No, thanks.”

“You can talk to me, you know that, right? Anything you want to ask, I’ll do it,” Deacon adds.

“I…” You pause as you try to find the right words to say. “Thanks.”

“For?”

“Most people, in the past, I mean, tried to force me to talk. When they thought I needed something, they kept pushing, but that makes it worse. So, thanks for inviting me to ask.”

Deacon’s jaw clenches quickly. He gets angry for you sometimes, and upon hearing that people have pushed you to talk when you are obviously shy angers him tonight. There’s no reason to force you to talk, Deacon thinks, because you’ll ask when you’re ready. And the more comfortable you get, the quicker it comes. Last week you left his side to get a snack and he’d never been so happy to be abandoned on the couch. But right now, rather than letting his anger show, Deacon pulls you into a hug. You happily wrap your arms around one of his and lean closer to his side as the move continues.

Deacon can’t help but smile when you ask, “Do you have more popcorn?” ten minutes later.

“Can you help me with something?” you ask Deacon.

“Of course,” he answers without hesitation.

“You don’t know what it is yet.”

“Of course,” he repeats firmly.

“Okay… I want to learn to speak up for myself. If I can.”

“You can.”

“Online it says to be prepared, identify your feelings, be assertive, set boundaries, and be confident. I don’t know if I can do all of that all the time.”

“You’ve researched this?” Deacon asks.

“Is that weird?”

“No, no, and it’s good advice, but a lot to remember. Maybe that’s just my brain getting old.”

You laugh and gently shove Deacon’s shoulder. He grabs your wrist and uses it to pull you closer.

“What if, next time someone says something you don’t like, you ask them to stop? Not much to remember and it would be over quickly.”

You nod as you lean against Deacon’s chest. “What if they don’t stop?”

“Walk away.”

Before you can ask if Deacon has any advice on what to say, he kisses you, and you forget about the question. With Deacon beside you, you feel like you can do anything. Even learn to stand up and speak up for yourself.

“Can I have another kiss?” you ask boldly after he pulls back.

Deacon smiles and rewards you with several kisses instead of the one you asked for.

Waiting in the police station isn’t something you do often. Deacon usually meets you in HQ, but he’s in a meeting, so you take a seat in the lobby.

“Hey, aren’t you dating Sergeant Kay?” an officer asks.

You look up and nod, surprised that anyone can recognize you as Deacon’s girlfriend.

“Yeah, you’re the one that never talks. How can you think he actually loves you if he doesn’t even know you?”

“I’d rather not talk about my relationship with you,” you respond.

Your soft and polite version of asking him to stop only spurs him to continue. As the officer continues making inappropriate and unwelcome comments about how unhappy Deacon must be with you, you stand. Deacon once told you that you were welcome to come into HQ if he was running late. So, you’re taking his advice to leave the situation because the person you spoke up to didn’t listen.

“Who will do all your bidding when Deacon gets tired and leaves you?” he asks, following you into the hallway.

“Stop,” you demand.

“Or what? You’ll give me the silent treatment?” the officer taunts.

“Officer Duncan!” Deacon calls as he enters the hall. “Sounds to me like you’re interested in armory duty.”

“Sergeant Kay,” he replies quickly. “No, sir, I was just talking to your girlfriend here.”

“Really? Because it sounded to me like you were pushing her after she told you to stop. Do you do that often, Duncan? I’m sure IA would love to make an inquiry into your treatment of women on and off the force, if so.”

“I’m sorry,” Officer Duncan tells you. “Excuse me.”

Deacon smiles once you’re alone and hugs you tightly.

“You did so well,” he applauds quietly.

You duck your chin to hide against his shoulder, but the truth is that you’re proud of yourself, too. The shyness inside you won’t disappear, but with Deacon teaching you to speak up for yourself and helping you when you can’t, it’s not so bad.

“I love you,” you say against Deacon’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Deacon replies.

He proves it with a kiss, and you find that you’re not shy about the public affection. Deacon is good for you, and he always will be.

[minustwofingers]

exoplanet p.1

masterlist

ellie williams x fem! reader (ur kind of a girly girl in this one sorry)

summary: you’re one of the luckiest people in the world as one of the few families that managed to gain entrance to the most exclusive safezone on earth. after living 19 years of your life in a soft and forgiving world, a lab accident sends you across the country to jackson, wyoming, entirely unprepared and unaware of what awaits you in the real world. its a good thing u run into a hot lesbian wink wink nudge nudge

a/n: now listen now hear me out i know this plot sounds kooky asf and im sorry i literally thought this shit up in a covid fever dream. but anyway i basically blacked out at the keyboard and have about 6k words to show for this weekend and no completed hw. i can’t believe im writing. this im so sorry

warnings: ellie is mean asf at first, reader is clueless and cannot do a pushup, you’re also a little bit of a snob and have a fixation on etiquette.  i promise it gets better just bear w me lMAO. she/her pronouns for the reader, v vanilla violence and explicit language. kinda enemies to lovers vibe

im so sorry u guys idk what got into me this is the goofiest au i’ve ever written ok but i just want ellie to get to learn abt the stars and shit after all she’s been thru she deserves it ok enjoy part 2 coming whenever i finish it.

wc: 6k

It wasn’t that you didn’t know that something bad had happened to the rest of the world. You did. Of course you did. You’d have to be a special kind of stupid to not realize that there was maybe something else going on when no one was allowed outside of the walls and anyone who returned told hushed stories of decimated buildings and piles of corpses.

It was just difficult to grasp the idea of the world you knew no longer existing outside the bounds of the city. To anyone before the pandemic, you’re sure that you lead what seemed like a normal life for any privileged kid.

You had two parents, both of whom loved you very much. You went to an elementary school, then a middle school, and then eventually high school and university. You went shopping with your friends. You watched movies and ate shitty junk food and had first kisses and went on ice cream dates. You studied what captivated your interest the most—space—and threw your soul into learning about the physics of the universe.

You laid on your dorm bed, playing with the edges of your pink comforter as you gossiped with your roommate, Irena, about the professor that she thought was hot and the boy who tried to harass you for your number after you’d finished up getting lunch.

You lived a normal life, which is pretty ironic, because the only reason you got to say that was because you were born to not-normal people who had been at the right place at the right time when the world fell apart.

You see, when everyone got sick, some areas got hit harder than others. And your parents, who were vacationing in some swanky exclusive Canadian resort that only the elite knew about, happened to hit the jackpot.

Not only was their vacation spot the one area in North America with a significant metropolitan population that managed to get enough time to adequately prepare, they happened to be traveling with some big-wig execs that knew a guy who knew a guy who was in the process of evacuating and putting the final touches on a safe zone, Terranova, intended for only the highest rungs of North American society.

So, there you were. Some 25 years or so after the world as your ancestors knew it fell to shit—and you were sipping cappuccinos and getting facials without a care in the world. All because of a lucky vacation.

And, for the record, it’s not that you were ungrateful. You knew that you were lucky to be living in the last place on earth with a semblance of normalcy. What you didn’t know, however, was just how lucky you were, and you didn’t find this out until you made that one stupid mistake in Gunther’s lab.

~

“Morning, Y/N!” called out Professor Gunther, a short, squatty man with a receding hairline so impressive that his forehead now ended halfway up his scalp.

“Morning, Professor,” you said, setting your bag down on the desk, winding your long scarf from around your neck and running a hand through your hair to get the tangles out. The wind outside had been especially fierce for February, which was not ideal given that you'd forgotten your hat at home.

“Guess what I’ve got?” Gunther was smiling, his teeth perfect white squares.

You gasped. “No. It’s already here?”

He said nothing; instead, he pushed forward a slightly battered box with dents and various smudges and marks that were telltale indicators for outside shipments.

“No way,” you said, pulling it into your hands. For a moment you debated using your nails to open the seam, but you’d just gotten them done, so you reached for a pair of scissors on the table.

“This is even more than we need,” you told Gunther, reaching in to pull out a spool of wire that shimmered under the lab lights. “Can I just hook it up now? Or is there something else I should do?”

There was, in fact, something that you should’ve done before going with your pliers and wire. Something about your model wasn’t quite right, but you’d figure that out a little too late.

You see, you and old Professor Gunther were attempting to build a prototype that would enable travel at the speed of light. It did sound insane—and you should’ve known that it was a pipe dream—but you were a space nerd with nearly limitless funding and support from one of the most famous surviving professors in the world. It had been Gunther’s pet project, one that you joined as a research assistant in your first year at the university. Once you’d caught wind of it, you couldn’t stay away, and you two quickly began to form a connection only understood by lonely and isolated academics.

“Go for it,” said Gunther, waving his hand dismissively.

Excitedly, you approached the table, your hands almost shaking as you held the wire. It was a fairly new invention, first used in the creation of Terranova and its walls to effectively make it invisible to the outside world. It boasted a variety of properties that made it academically fascinating and functionally useful. Gunther had had a suspicion that it would be useful in stabilizing the process of disseminating atoms to make light speed travel possible, so you’d placed the order for a couple of spools.

“And I think that’s it,” you said, using your pliers to shape the blunt edge that you had just clipped and plugging it into the circuit board. A purple sheen seemed to vibrate around the bundle of wires and boxes.

Gunther leaned over your shoulder, peering at everything through the spectacles perched on his pudgy nose. “Well done, dear. Say, before we turn this thing on and start running some preliminary tests, would you mind grabbing us some tea from the caf? My treat.”

“Of course,” you said, standing up and brushing your hands off. “Lapsang?”

He nodded. “And anything you’d like.”

You pulled my scarf back on, pulling it snugly around your neck and snatching your bag from the table. The walk to the cafeteria was short, but it was cold enough to require suiting up again. You ordered, paid with Gunther’s card, and sat quietly as you watched the snow fall outside.

It was a beautiful morning. The wind had died down, leaving the snow to fall from the gray skies in fat, puffy flakes. The city outside was quiet, with only the gentle hum of the occasional car to break the silence.

“Y/N! A Lapsang Souchong and a Jasmine Green?”

You leapt up and grabbed the two disposable cups, smiling widely at the barista. “Hey, would you mind throwing a bag of coffee in too?”

“Anything specific?” he asked.

“I don’t know anything about coffee,” you admitted. “Anything that isn’t decaf. It’s for my roommate.”

He nodded and rang you up for the coffee, and you were back on your way.

“My dear!” boomed Gunther when you came back, throwing the lab door open and nearly floating off the ground in excitement.

“Lapsang with a spot of honey, as always,” you said, passing the cup into his hands. The bite from the heat slowly faded from your palm—the barista had forgotten to put a sleeve on his cup.

“Lovely,” he said, setting it down next to you. “I’m just going to go ahead and flip the switch…keep your wits about you! Haha.”

“Ha,” you said, though suddenly you were getting more nervous. The longer you looked at the wires, the less sense they made. And was that two uncovered wires touching? ”Hey, wait, actually—”

Click.

A hum filled the room as the power flicked on. The bright white overhead lights flickered once, twice, and then went out. Something that smelled suspiciously like smoke filled the room.

“Fuck!” Gunther fumbled for the switch. You, similarly, lunged forward to see if you could manually disconnect the wires from the input. “It’s short circ—”

As soon as you made contact with the input wire, you heard the sound of a cup tipping over seconds before the splashing of hot tea.

Then everything went black.

~

When you awoke, it was because you were shaking so hard that your teeth were clicking painfully together.

Slowly, you pulled open my eyelids to see a brilliantly blue sky without a cloud in sight, wide and unimpeded by any skyscrapers. This was definitely not Gunther’s lab.

You groaned as feeling began to return to your body, along with a thudding headache and soreness in every joint. Gently, you pressed your weight into your fingers and slowly sat yourself up, making observations as you went.

You were not dead. Your heart was still beating and your nerves still functioned as usual. You had no idea how long you'd been lying on the ground, but it had to have been at least an hour given that the sun was almost in the middle of the sky.

Another observation: you were nowhere near Terranova.

Instead, you were in the clearing of a forest, surrounded by trees with unfamiliar trunk patterns and leaves. A thick bed of white snow coated everything in sight except for you.

You were well and truly fucked. There was nowhere even remotely nearby the city that you knew was in a fully forested area.

Though at least now you held the title of the first person alive to travel at light speed. It was a small comfort, but it was something to cling to.

A shriek sounded behind you, and you spun around, still seated on the ground. The forest line was clear, but you could hear rustling. For a moment you considered that it could be an animal, but it didn’t sound like any woodland creature. It sounded unmistakably human.

“Hello?” you called out.

The shriek came again, accompanied by more crunching—both much closer this time.

“Are you alright?” you asked, hoping your voice would carry to whoever it was. “Are you hurt?”

A mangled man suddenly came into sight as he fell into the clearing from a lopsided sprint, barreling right towards you. One of his knees was bent outwards as he went, so badly it looked broken, but it wasn’t enough to slow him down as he ran towards you.

You screamed, a real and proper one that pierced the frigid air. There was no time for to run as the man closed the gap and rammed into you, his filthy hands gripping your arms through your heavy jacket as his snapping teeth and rancid breath lunged for your neck.

Bang!

A single shot rang out. The man fell limp, slumping on top of you as you frantically snapped into motion and scrambled out from under him.

“Who the fuck are you?”

You whipped back around to see a girl standing at the other side of the clearing, a revolver in her hand and an incredibly cross expression etched into her features. She must’ve been around your age, and she had short auburn hair that barely brushed her shoulders and was being tossed about by the wind. There was a spattering of freckles across her face, muted against the backdrop of her cheeks reddened from exertion.

“Hi,” you said, your voice small and pathetic. You couldn’t stop shaking. “I’m Y/N.”

The girl just stared at you for a few more beats before turning back. “Jesse! Dina! Some help?”

You pulled your knees into your chest as you waited for whatever was to come. Now that the man was off of you, you could see that there was blood trickling from his gaping maw. Something that looked almost like shards had sprouted, like little spring buds, in little areas around his face. Even his normal, unshard-ed skin was a pallor that looked like death. Something wasn’t right here.

“Okay,” said the girl, gruffer this time. “Listen, I don’t know who the fuck you think you are just waltzing in like this, but this isn’t open to the public, alright? You’re trespassing.”

“Sorry,” you said, shrinking further into yourself as you thumbed the edges of your scarf. “I didn’t know.”

“Get the hell out of here,” she said, grabbing your backpack from the ground near her feet and throwing it at you.

Two other people emerged from the trees, another girl and one guy. They all seemed roughly the same age—early 20s, maybe—and were all carrying various weapons ranging from guns to knives.

To say you were on edge would be the understatement of the century.

They spoke in hushed tones as they approached the first girl.

“I don’t understand,” the other girl said, long black locks escaping from her ponytail. “We literally just patrolled this area. There’s no way to get here without either going through the town or going over the pass, and no one’s done that.”

“And you’re sure you didn’t see her then?” The boy looked curiously at you.

“Fucking obviously,” snapped the first girl. “I think we would’ve noticed.” Then, directed at you: “Hey. How’d you even wind up here?”

“Uh….” Your mouth became dry. “Where am I again?”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re telling me you don’t even know?”

“Ellie,” warned the other girl. “Maybe she’s been out here for a while. Hypothermia can make you think crazy things.”

“She doesn’t look like she’s been out here for long,” pointed out the first girl, presumably Ellie.

“You’re right outside Jackson,” said the other girl helpfully.

“How close am I to Terranova?”

“The fuck is Terra-whatta?” Ellie frowned at you.

“Where I live,” you said. “I—I’m a student there. I was working on a project and something went wrong and then all of a sudden I woke up here and—what is that thing?” You gestured frantically at the limp body of the man beside you, the shock slowly subsiding as reality set in. “He almost killed me!”

Ellie gaped at you along with her two friends. “What do you mean, what is that thing? Have you never seen a runner before?”

“A runner?” You stared back. “These things are normal enough for you to have a name for them?”

“Oh my god,” said Ellie, pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers. “Have you, like, never been outside before?”

“No,” you said, honestly. “I’ve never left the city walls.”

“We have got to take her back with us,” said the other girl.

“Dina.” Ellie scowled. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Dina’s right,” said the guy, finally chiming in. “We can’t just leave her out here. She doesn’t even know what a runner is. She’s gonna be killed like that.”

Ellie considered, gnawing her lip. “Fine. Consider this your lucky day, Y/N. Get up.”

The first thing you did upon reaching your feet was faint once again.

~

“I told you, Joel, we just found her like this! Lying on the ground, with nothing but her bag.”

A man said something that you couldn’t quite catch.

“Yes. I went through it. No weapons, just…weird things. Like this.”

Your eyes snapped open to see Dina rooting around in your backpack, pulling out your laptop. You were laid horizontally on a table in some warmly lit home.

“Hey!” you said. She turned around, along with a tall, buff man at her side. “Be careful with that. That has all my homework on it.”

“See?” Dina whispered. “Do you think she hit her head or something, Joel?”

Joel frowned, picking up your laptop despite your protests. “I haven’t seen one of these in…I can’t even remember how long. And I’ve never seen one this slim before. Where’d you say you got this, er…”

“Y/N,” Dina supplied.

“From my university,” you said. There was a fire that crackled somewhere behind you, and it sounded comforting. “They provide all students with laptops. That’s how we do most of our schoolwork.”

“Let me guess,” said Joel. “You from the North? A place called Terra Something?”

“That’s a real thing?” Ellie came from around the corner, standing with her arms crossed. She’d changed out of her heavy winter coat and was instead wearing a dark gray hoodie with the strings tied into a bow.

“Never been there myself,” he said. “But when I was doing supply runs back in Boston we always heard whispers of a safezone in Canada. For rich assholes who had some even richer survivalist friends. The Fireflies attempted to break in for years, but they could never find it.”

“So, like a QZ?” asked Ellie, looking genuinely curious.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. No one acknowledged it.

“Not quite,” said Joel. “No FEDRA. With no military presence, I’m sure it was a hell of a lot cushier living there. Wasn’t it, Y/N?”

“I don’t have anything to compare it to,” you said. “But, yeah. I guess it was nice. It was just normal, I guess. Nothing extraordinary.”

“You’re wearing a cashmere scarf,” Joel pointed out. “That’s not what I’d call normal in the apocalypse.”

You blushed, pulling at the fringes of said black scarf. The fabric was thin and soft, impossibly warm against your bare neck. “It didn’t—it doesn’t feel like the apocalypse in Terranova.”

“And how’d you make it all the way out here?”

“I’m a research assistant for a professor attempting to invent travel at the speed of light,” you said. “We just hooked it up to a different wire today. It short-circuited and when my professor and I rushed to shut it off, he spilled his tea on me and the prototype. Next thing I knew, I woke up here.”

Joel blinked. “What now?”

“I know it sounds crazy,” you said, defensively pulling your knees to your chest. “But I’m telling the truth, honestly. Plus, look at me.” You let go of your scarf and held out your hands, letting the glow of the fire catch the immaculate pearl polish on your fingers. “Do I look like someone who’s traveled from Canada to wherever I am now?”

“She’s got a point,” said Dina, nodding thoughtfully. “It really must be nice where you come from to have hands like that. It doesn’t look like you’ve done a day of work in your life. Reckon you could take us back with you?”

Joel sent her a stern look. “What did you parents do to gain access to a place like that? You the daughter of the president or something?”

“No. They just got lucky,” you explained. “They were summering in Canada and happened to befriend the founders of Terranova right before outbreak day.”

“‘Summering’,” repeated Joel. “It’s been a while since I heard someone use a season as a verb. Somehow it’s not been long enough.”

You cringed.

“I’m not gonna lie, it’s a little disappointing to hear that folks like your parents are still living in the lap of luxury, even after the world ended,” said Joel. “A part of me hoped that karma would get ‘em.”

“I didn’t realize how bad it was out here,” you said defensively. “They didn’t even tell me about…what was that that tried to kill me out there? Walkers?”

“Runners,” Ellie supplied. She watched you quietly from her position leaning up against the couch.

“You ran into one?” asked Joel, another wrinkle appearing in his forehead. “Ellie, have you checked her for bites?”

Ellie’s freckled face paled as she swore. “Fuck. No, I forgot. I should’ve done it in the clearing.”

“Well, better now than never. Listen, I gotta meet up with Tommy. You check ‘er. You got a gun ready, just in case?”

“Excuse me?” you scoffed, looking thoroughly scandalized. “What do you mean, just in case?”

“I’ll be outside,” said Dina, following Joel as he left the door.

“How come it’s my job?” Ellie called after them. “No one asked me how I felt about this!”

The door banged shut in reply. She turned back to face you, her lips set into a firm line. “Fine. Take your coat off. Let’s make this quick.”

“I didn’t feel anything bite me,” you said, grabbing your knees tighter to your chest. Ellie was intimidating and scary, and you rather liked how you currently wore an extra layer of protection.

“Yeah, yeah, that’s what they all say.” She walked over to you, grabbing your scarf and unwinding it from your neck. “Shit. Is this what Joel called cashmere?”

“Yeah,” you said, watching as she stared at the fabric pooled in her hands. “It’s nothing special, really. Everyone wears them in Terranova.”

Ellie stared at you. “Can you stop saying Terranova? I swear it’s every third word that comes out of your mouth. I honestly couldn’t give a shit about whatever fantasyland you grew up in while the rest of us dealt with the real world.”

You opened your mouth, then thought better of it and closed it. It was discombobulating to hear a stranger swear so often at you.

Ellie knocked your hands from your knees and stared down at you. “Are you actually gonna make me take off everything myself? Do they have hired help to unzip your coats in Terra Novella?”

“Terranova.”

Ellie let out a sharp sigh, then lunged for the zipper near your throat.

“Okay, okay, fine,” you said, yanking yourself away and pulling your zipper down to reveal your standard lab outfit—a satiny button up shirt tucked into slacks. You pulled the rest of your puffer off, letting it drop in a pile next to you.

“So,” you said as Ellie grabbed your arm, gently rolling up the fabric of your blouse and turning your forearm back and forth, “Is this, like, a normal thing? To have deranged people in the woods attack you like that?”

“They’re not people,” she said quietly. Satisfied with your left arm, she moved to the next and let your unbuttoned sleeve fall. “Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

Ellie’s fingers encircled your right wrist as she fiddled with your sleeve. They were warm as they brushed across your skin, just barely touching you. “You really don’t know? I thought you at least knew about outbreak day.”

“Of course I know about outbreak day,” you said defensively. “I’m not stupid.”

Ellie arched a brow.

“They told us that it was a virus,” you added. “That it was lethal and incredibly infectious. Is that not what happened?”

“It’s not a virus, it’s a fungus,” corrected Ellie, letting go of your sleeve and stepping back as you redid the buttons at your wrist. “And it doesn’t just kill. It turns you into—into something like what you saw today. You lose your mind. The only thing that matters to you is biting everyone and spreading the infection.”

“Oh.”

“I saw you get tackled. Did your legs get scratched up at all?”

“No,” you responded, feeling thankful that you wouldn’t need to take your pants off. In that moment, literally nothing seemed more embarrassing. Your hands had begun to shake again.

“Didn’t think so.”

“If it had bitten me, would that mean that I…I would get sick too?”

“Nice going, Sherlock,” said Ellie, returning to her spot against the couch. “Really stellar reasoning skills there.”

You pulled your knees back into your chest, the gravity of the situation sinking in. All this time you’d thought it was just a virus—a measly virus that killed. That it could be anything else had never occurred to you.

“Keep shaking and I’m going to start to think that you were bitten.” She smiled thinly at you from across the room.

“I’m sorry,” you said, your teeth bouncing against each other once before you clenched your jaw. “Please cut me some slack. This is just a lot to take in. If you’ll recall, I’ve just been the first person in history to undergo atomic dissolution and reassembly. It’s a wonder I’m still alive.”

“Welcome to the club,” said Ellie, her eyes narrowed. “It’s a wonder any of us are alive.”

Your lips pressed tightly together as you sat, trying your best not to lose it at her. You’d always been brought up to be kind, to be forgiving and sweet and polite. After all, there was never any reason not to be. Terranova’s culture put a heavy emphasis on keeping the peace no matter what. Your parents rarely ever raised their voices. Your professors kindly and respectfully asked their pupils to settle down if they were too noisy, but since you were all brought up with impeccable manners, such instances were few and far between. It just wasn’t a thing to chew strangers out. Such behavior was only reserved for extraordinary situations of the like you’d never experienced. Speaking of manners…

“Thank you,” you said, finally. Yeah, you could be the bigger person.

Ellie’s gaze snapped up to you, her brow furrowed. “Huh?”

“For saving me,” you clarified, avoiding her eyes. They were uncomfortably piercing. “Sorry. I should’ve thanked you earlier. That was rude of me. And I’m also sorry for just barging in here. I promise it wasn’t on purpose. Trust me, I would do anything to be back home right now.”

“I bet you would.” Her eyes dropped briefly to your hands, unblemished and smooth as they clutched your knees. Not even a cuticle was out of place, a result of your weekly manicures and daily lotion habit.

“Sorry,” you said again, feeling heat rise in your cheeks once again. “I probably sound so insufferable and spoiled to you.”  

“Just—” She paused, frowning. “Just stop apologizing. It’s fine. It’s not your fault, or whatever.” The words seemed to pain her.

“What’s a QZ?” you asked. Now that you’d had a moment to draw in a few deep breaths, your hands were steady once again.

“Quarantine Zone,” said Ellie. “Established by what was left of the government for those of us normal people. There are a couple scattered around the country in the big cities.”

“Did you live in one? What’re they like?”

She was about to answer when the door banged open.

“Ellie!” Dina’s voice was breathless. “Joel wants me and you to go out and finish the patrol route together. She alright?”

“I’m fine,” you said quickly, hanging your legs off the table and reaching for your puffer.

“God, I fucking love that shirt,” said Dina. “Can I touch it? It looks so soft.”

You had a feeling that you would get on well with her. “Sure.”

“It’s not that soft,” said Ellie from the couch.

“Shut up, Ellie!” Dina walked over to you, grabbing the dangling fabric from your loose sleeves and letting it thread through her fingers. “Sorry about her, Y/N. She’s just like that sometimes.”

“Dina!”

Dina ignored Ellie’s protests, giving you a look full of mirth as she stepped back. “For the record, it was that soft.”

“You couldn’t wear it anywhere,” argued Ellie. “It looks ridiculous. Infected would just snag right onto the sleeves. That’s only if you didn’t get tangled up in a tree from all that loose fabric first.”

“There’s not an abundance of trees or sick fungus people in my research lab,” you said awkwardly. “So that’s not really something that crossed my mind when I got ready this morning.”

“Ha!” Dina’s eyes scrunched. “Ellie, be nice. Maybe she’ll claim us both as her long-lost sisters and get us into wherever she came from, but she’s not gonna if you keep acting like this.”

“It’s okay,” you said, shrugging. “I get it. I can’t even begin to imagine how much different your lives are out here. And, I mean, I probably could if you wanted. I’m pretty sure that all you need is a connection and a negative test for whatever the fungus is called.”

“See?” Dina gestured towards you. “Listen to her. She’s so wholesome.”

“I’d be wholesome too if I led the kind of life where I didn’t know about the infected and got to wear dumb shirts like that all day.”

Dina huffed. “Listen, Y/N, Ellie and I are gonna finish up with patrolling. I’m assuming you want to stay in Jackson until you figure everything out?”

You nodded. “If that’s alright. I don’t mean to impose.”

“We’ll talk to Maria and Tommy once we get back and see about getting you set up somewhere temporarily,” said Dina. “For now, you can just stay at Ellie’s until we finish up. Sound good?”

“Dina!” protested Ellie. “You’re just gonna leave her here unattended without even asking me?”

“What’s she gonna do? Ransack the town? With what weapon, Ellie? Her bare hands? She looks like she’d be blown over if I breathed too hard in her direction.”

You flushed. Sure, you’d never really seen much of a point of bulking up and working out when you were nothing but a student who spent all of her time goofing off with wires and telescopes, but it was humbling to have it pointed out so blatantly.

“She wouldn’t make it a day outside,” continued Dina. “I don’t think she’s stupid enough to try anything. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

You blinked. “I mean, yeah. I’ve never spent a day without electricity and hot running water, so I’m not really clambering to leave and live in the woods.”

Ellie sighed sharply. “Fine. Cool. Whatever. Just stay where you are, okay? And don’t even think about touching anything.”

~

By the time that she returned with Joel, you were sitting at the table, 2 chapters deep into the one textbook you’d brought along with you for one of your courses.

“Glad to see the house still standing,” Joel quipped as he worked his heavy coat off his shoulders and pulled his boots off. Ellie trailed behind him, hanging up her coat and pulling off a pair of black gloves. “Ellie was concerned you’d raze the whole town.”

“I’m honored that she thinks me so capable,” you said in response, wincing as you had to dogear your textbook, your bookmarks and sticky notes tucked safely in your dorm desk far away.

Ellie sent you an irritated look before her gaze dropped to the textbook in your lap. It lingered for a moment, just long enough for you to know that she was reading the title Exoplanetary Systems.

“Tommy and Maria have decided to let you stay until you get back on your feet,” said Joel, oblivious to the hostility coming from Ellie. “There’s a cottage down the street that’ll be ready for you to move into soon. For now, you can stay with us. There’s an extra room across the hall from Ellie’s.”

“That’s too kind of you,” you said, your voice smooth and gracious after years of having your manners picked apart by your parents.  

Joel looked mildly uncomfortable. “Uh, yeah. Don’t mention it. You know how to ride a horse?”

“Yeah, a little.”

“Good,” said Joel. “Can you shoot, too?”

You stared. “Uh, shoot what?”

“A gun,” said Ellie slowly. Her arms were crossed tightly over her chest, her mouth contorted into a scowl. She did not seem overjoyed at the prospect of a new housemate.

“No,” you said. Your ears felt like they were on fire. “There’s, uh, a strict ban on guns in Terr–where I grew up. There was no reason to shoot anything.”

Joel whistled. “Well, imagine that. So maybe we won’t put you on patrol just yet. We’ll find something else for you to do. Got any other skills?”

Before you answered, Joel picked up your bag and peered inside of it. “Say, is this a bag of coffee?”

He pulled out the bag of coffee grinds that you’d picked up at the cafe.

“Yeah!” you said. “Before the, uh, accident, my professor sent me to get him tea from the cafeteria. I ended up picking those up since my roommate and I were out. You drink coffee?”

“Not much anymore,” said Joel, picking up the bag and weighing it back and forth. “It’s hard to come by out here. You have to pay an arm and a leg to get just a bit. I haven’t seen a bag like this since before the outbreak.”

“It’s yours,” you said quickly. “I don’t even really like coffee. I just drank it because my roommate would make me a cup.”

Joel shook his head and placed it back in your bag. “No, I couldn’t do that. I’d probably have to trade my whole arsenal plus a horse to get something this big.”

“Please, I insist,” you said. “It’s the least I can do. It’s just going to sit in my bag anyway. You’d appreciate it more.”

“Well…” Joel gave you a considering look. “I s’pose this could cover your work for a few weeks until either we find another job for you or Ellie teaches you to shoot.”

“Joel!” Ellie interjected. “I have my own shit to do.”

“That’s really generous of you,” you said, smiling at Joel. “But you could honestly just take the bag—no need to offer any reimbursement.”

Joel grunted and picked the bag up again, slinging it onto the counter behind him. “Maria’s never gonna believe me until she sees this. Full bag of monsoon malabar…didn’t even think they had that shit anymore…” He continued to mumble to himself as he shuffled around, opening and closing cabinets behind you.

When you looked back up, Ellie was staring again at your book, a line in her brow.

“You can borrow it, if you’d like.” You pushed the book towards her as a poor attempt to call a truce between you two. “It’s not like I actually need to do the reading anymore. I’m already missing lecture.”

You winced at the thought of getting behind in your classes. In the very likely case you weren’t getting back in the next few days, you’d probably need to take a gap semester and return in the fall, delaying your graduation date another 4 months. Your parents were going to kill you. This was going to create an unfillable hole in your resume. “Shooting a gun” and “riding horses” were not acceptable activities to explain away why you took a whole season off.

“No thanks,” said Ellie, pushing it back to you. “Keep it. I don’t want it.”

“It’s about solar systems outside of our locale,” you continued. “There’s a bunch of them. It’s actually really interesting.”

“It doesn’t really sound like it,” she said, but there was no venom behind her voice—just something that sounded like exhaustion.  

“Maybe not.” You sighed, deflated. So much for a white flag. “I guess it must seem pretty ridiculous to you.”

Ellie stood there, her arms still crossed and her frown deep. “Joel,” she said, speaking over your shoulder, “I’m going out. I’ll see you later.”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” said Joel. You could hear him bustling around in what you assumed was a kitchen, filling a kettle with water and lighting the gas top stove.

When you turned back around, Ellie was already out the door, coat slung over her arm as she shut it.

Before the door closed entirely, her eyes snapped up to meet yours like she knew you’d been watching her.

She was gone before you had the chance to lift your hand to wave goodbye.

again apologies for this if you’ve made it this far. please confiscate my laptop. part 2 coming soon (?) if u want also im not an astrophysics student im a thickheaded cs student who barely survived ap physics so im sorry if i’m doing a disservice to the academic field of astronomy idk shit about it 

[s-ublimewrites]

writing sonnets (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: your students tease you relentlessly and melissa can't help but to join in

words: ~1.4k

warnings: none i think? wholesome borderline crack

note: im not sure i ever actually gender the reader here? but f!reader to cover my own ass<3

Don’t get it twisted - you love the inquisitive nature of your students, you really do. It’s something every eighth grade English teacher longs for. But your fourth period class has a certain knack for getting you off topic with their curiosity. On this particular day - a Friday, so blissfully close to freedom - you have relinquished all control and let them fall down the rabbit hole of fanfiction, of all things. Leave it to middle schoolers. 

They had only been learning about first, second, and third person narration - so innocuous, you didn’t see how you could possibly be derailed. Maybe you’d make it through the lesson, and you could relish in the four minutes of silence you get between periods, and-

“Where is second person narration used?” Angel doesn’t bother raising his hand, and you don’t bother admonishing him.  

You think briefly. “Honestly, not many pieces of published works use it - not that I’ve seen, anyway. We don’t talk about it much. I’ve really only seen the second person used in one place.”

You intend to leave it at that, but of course, Angel pushes. 

“Where?” he asks. 

In the second you use to inhale before tackling the question, Kennedy takes the liberty of answering: “Fanfiction, duh. That self-insert stuff.”

You can’t help it - a laugh bubbles out, and this is the moment everything begins to spiral. 

“Yeah,” you collapse into your desk chair, “Kennedy’s right. Fanfiction.”

Kennedy takes the opportunity - it’s been presented to her on a silver platter, really. “You know about fanfiction, Y/L/N?” 

“Sweetheart, my generation invented fanfiction. And I’m a writer. This was my game before you were even born.”

Angel is on his feet, his hands slamming on his desk and his voice rising with excitement, “WHERE CAN WE READ YOUR FANFICTION?” 

“Oh, my God, no. You can’t. It’s not on the internet or anything, I’d just, like… send it to my friends, or whatever,” you insist, hands coming to cover your red face as you laugh. 

The class, buzzing with chatter and giggles, continues to harass you. “So, what, Ms Schemmenti reads your fanfiction?”

Your hands are still covering your face. “No, Ms Schemmenti most certainly does not!”

“That’s because the fanfiction is about Ms Schemmenti. Y’all see how Y/L/N be looking at her in the halls,” someone says, and several others voice their agreement. 

“She’s down bad for real.”

“What?!” your head snaps up, eyes searching for whoever made the comment. The bell rings before you can get your answer. “Get out of my room, you absolute little monsters. Have a good weekend, please read chapter th- oh, okay, you’re gone. Cool. Awesome.” 

You look at the camera. It zooms in on your red, deadpan face. You drop your forehead onto the desk. 

-

When you walk into the lounge at the end of the day, you slump into the chair beside Janine, who’s engaged in a conversation about a scrabble tournament (sober scrabble - boring) with Jacob and Gregory. Barbara listens, not contributing, surely stockpiling the information so she can tell Melissa later. Melissa, who is thankfully not in the room at the moment. You think you would burst into flames. 

Janine halts her conversation about triple word scores when you throw yourself down into the chair by her. 

“Rough day?” Janine asks tentatively. 

“Long. The kids were focused on literally anything other than The Outsiders.” 

Janine nods. “I get it. Fridays, y’know? It’s always hard to keep them on task.” 

“Well, Y/N,” Jacob starts with a smirk, “my students were actually pretty interested in the topics of your class today. It’s all they could talk about when they sat down for seventh period.” 

You glare at him hard and warn, “Jacob. Do not.” 

Janine looks back and forth between you both and turns to Gregory. “Is there something I’m missing?”

“No,” you say sternly. Your eyes don’t leave Jacob’s shit-eating grin. “Not a thing.”

Jacob, it seems, has exceptionally few survival instincts and carries on giddily, “Y/N’s students found out she writes fanfiction-“

And, oh, good, Barbara is listening now, too. “Fan-fiction?” 

“Why is everyone saying that word today? It’s all I’ve been hearing in the halls since, like, fourth period.” Melissa asks, striding into the break room and taking the seat next to you. 

“I’m going to have to transfer schools,” you say, closing your eyes. 

Melissa pays this no mind. “All the older kids keep looking at me, too. It’s weird.”

You glare daggers at Jacob, whose face must hurt from the width of his smile. 

“So weird!” Jacob says innocently. 

Melissa narrows her eyes. 

“Why are you being weird? And not normal Jacob weird,” she questions, turning to you. “Why is he being weird?”

You slam your boot into Jacob’s shin under the table. “He’s not. No one’s being weird.” 

Melissa’s eyes flick back and forth between the two of you suspiciously. “Okay, someone tell me right now - what the hell is a fanfiction, and what does it have to do with me? And, apparently, Y/N?”

“Melissa, I am so glad you’ve asked, allow me to explain-“ Jacob starts, leaning across the table toward Melissa. 

“Oh my God,” you cut him off. Time to swallow your pride. 

You explain the situation… sort of. You explain in a watered-down way that incriminates you less. 

“So, yeah, they found out, and because I said ‘friend’ they connected it to you, and they misconstrued the whole thing, and it’s literally not a big deal-“ you're rambling and she knows it. 

“Wait,” Gregory stops you, “so this is why I heard Angel say ‘Y/L/N be writing sonnets about that red hair’ during lunch?”

Janine raises her eyebrows. “‘Sonnet?’ Pretty good vocab word.”

“Thank you, Janine! And thank you for focusing on the important part of the matter at hand: my impeccable teaching skills.” 

“So,” Barbara chimes in, “do you or do you not write these little stories about Melissa?”

“Barbara!” You’re mortified. “No! I do not!”

At long last, Melissa speaks. You don’t need to look at her to know there’s a smirk on her lips. “She doesn’t need to. Clearly, the material writes itself.”

“Melissa,” you plead. 

Melissa laughs that laugh, the one that makes the corners of your mouth turn up despite your discomfort. 

“Maybe that could be your end-of-the-year writing project for the kids - make them write that fanfiction,” Melissa teases. 

“You’re just as bad as Angel!” You laugh incredulously and let your hand smack Melissa’s shoulder. The others don’t miss the way Melissa doesn’t break your fingers at the gesture. 

In fact, Melissa's eyes soften as she bumps your shoulder with her own. “No, no, I can see it - newbie woos the Philly Eleven. There’s potential there.” 

You roll your eyes. “Well, I am pretty charming.”

“I’m going home,” Barbara stands up with a polite (if somewhat exasperated) smile, “Very glad we got this out of the way. Have a good weekend, everyone. Y/N… call me later.”

Barbara pats Melissa’s shoulder with a pointed look toward you, and takes her leave rapidly. 

“Uh,” you stare after her. “Yep. Bye, Barb.” 

Melissa’s eyebrow quirks up. “What was that?”

“Dunno,” you reply. “I’m sure you’ll know everything approximately five minutes after I hang up with her, though, so don’t worry.” 

Janine butts in (ah, yeah, the nerds are still here), “You guys call Barbara? Can I have her cell number? I always want to ask her but-“

“No,” you and Melissa say in unison, and Janine sighs heavily. 

You heave out a sigh of your own. “I need to go home - moreover I need to be somewhere no one is asking me about my nonexistent fanfiction habits.”

You stand, and Melissa stands with you as you both gather your belongings. “Impossible. I have your phone number.”

You “accidentally” smack Melissa with your purse, and Melissa “mistakenly” shoves her chair into your leg in a way that makes your knee buckle, and the rest of the Abbot crew watch the scene in morbid fascination. Because the cold hard truth is that if anyone else had dared to do… well, any of this, Melissa would be shoving her earrings into her pocket and removing her heels. Fight or fight instinct, y’know? 

Instead, though, she just swears at you in Italian as you head for the door, grinning widely when you return the sentiment in plain english. 

Ava entering the lounge halts you in your tracks. 

“Y’all will never guess what Angel just emailed me,” Ava exclaims, holding up her phone. “Did you know he knows the word ‘sonnet’? Proud of him.”

“Forward me that?”

Another smack from you. “Melissa, stop!” 

[damiansgoodgirll]

can u write abt jude defending the reader and also comforting her

jude bellingham x reader

tw : angst? not a main character death but still…

no one can compare

dating jude bellingham took a big change on your life. you went from having 45 followers to have more than a million. you went from being no one to being someone. you went from posting normal selfies to posting professional photos that photographers took of you. you went from working underpaid jobs to work with important brand as nike and gucci.

you knew that everything you had was because of jude and you couldn’t be more grateful. he didn’t mind about you getting important deals because everything he wanted was too see you happy and so if being the face of an important brand made you happy he would tell you to go for it.

he was your number one supporter and you were his. he always reposted everytime you got a deal done and you attended every single one of his matches.

you were like the “it” couple and fans loved you.

well, not all jude’s fans.

a big part of his fan base was made of teenage girls who absolutely hated you and they wanted you to know that.

you couldn’t even post a normal picture on instagram that you would receive comments like “she’s so ugly” “why is jude dating her?” “he could have better” “she was nothing before him” “she only uses him for money”…

the thing was, it wasn’t a normal picture. you posted a picture for your best friend who passed away a few days before. you thought people would understand the situation but that didn’t stop them from saying mean things on you.

that’s how you found yourself laying on the bed and all covered in blankets, drying your tears away while you were going through the comments.

jude was in the bathroom next door and he definitely heard you sniffling. he knew about the comments, he read those comments on the pictures he posted with you and even if he asked his fans to stop the harassment it felt like they wouldn’t even care and that made him ten times angrier.

he carefully opened the bedroom door, not trying to upset you more and went to sit on the bed, in the spot right next to you.

“hey love…” he gave you a sad smile when he saw your red eyes “please…give me your phone baby” he slowly went to get the phone out of your hands and you simply let it fall.

“why are people so mean? my best friend just passed away and all these people can say is how i look fake to their eyes” you cried “i couldn’t care less about what they say about me…but saying things under my best friend’s post? where is the respect everyone is preaching?” you let yourself cry in his arms.

“i know baby…i know you’re hurting” he kissed your head while his hands went on your back.

“it’s not only that…it’s just…everything i do seems to upset them…i know they’re your fans but what have i done to them for make them hate me so much?” you sniffled a little.

“absolutely nothing baby…you’re so perfect and beautiful and they wish they were you…they wish they were here with me instead…they’re jealous and insecure so they feel the need to hurt you and make you feel like they feel about themselves” he told you “they’re jealous because i chose you, not them” he kissed your cheek “and they’re jealous because they can’t compete with you…you’re so kind and beautiful and god, i love you so much darling…no one can compare to you, i love you and only you…” he wiped your tears away and gently posed his lip over yours “you’re my everything…”

“i love you so much jude…thank you”

“you don’t have to thank me baby, it’s the truth…that’s the whole reason i chose you and not them…you’re ten thousand times better” he said and you smiled a little.

he then let you snuggle on his chest while his hands held you closer to his body, gently stroking your hair as you both ended up watching some stupid show on his laptop.

[ladykailitha]

Never Hold Back Your Step... Part 2

Hey, hey! I told you you'd see more this story soon.

In this one, Nancy and Steve butt heads, and Eddie and Steve talk about having to hide their relationship. Then it gets a little spicy.

Part 1

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @emly03

****

Going to regionals proved to be a sticking point between him and Nancy. Every time she got within speaking distance it was all she would talk about. Even sweet, patient Jonathan was starting to get annoyed.

That strange limbo of a week after state and a before regionals it all finally came to a head.

“All I’m saying is that the money could go to the arts,” Nancy said when Eddie, Steve, and Jonathan all rolled their eyes.

“The swim relay team going to regionals is a big deal,” Steve huffed. “It’s unprecedented. A school of Hawkins’ size has never made it to regionals. In fact Couch Hall was saying that we might even have a chance at nationals. Like a really good chance. We could break records. Lyle, Nick, and Ezra have good chances of being scouted to college teams. Hell I have a good chance of being scouted.

“But I’m talking specifically about them because they need the scholarship to get into the nicer schools. Why can’t you let this little vendetta against the swim team getting to go to regionals go? I’m sorry funding was cut to the newspaper. I am. But stop blaming the four of us for it.”

He slammed his locker and strode away leaving a very stunned trio in his wake.

Eddie licked the bottom of his lip. “Look, I’m not going to pretend I understand why he’s still friends with either of you,” he turned to Jonathan with a nod, “no offense, man.”

Jonathan scoffed. “None taken. Honest.” He held up his hands to show he meant no harm.

Nancy stomped her foot. “It’s none of your business.”

Eddie leaned over her. “Now that’s where you’re wrong, Steve will always be my business and if you can’t let this sports thing go, maybe avoid him until it’s over.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you care about sports anymore than I do.”

“You’re right,” he said with a menacing growl. “I don’t care about sports, but I sure as hell care about Steve. He wants to be happy about making it to regionals, but you won’t let him. Knock it off.”

“Fine.”

“You’re a smart girl, if you want more money funded to the arts,” Eddie said, “you’ll find a better way then by harassing your ex.” He turned on his heel and went off to find Steve.

*

If Steve avoided his locker for the next week, with Eddie or Jeff getting his stuff for him, his friends wisely said nothing. Eddie wasn’t sure if Nancy had taken his advice or if Steve was successfully dodging her, but it didn’t matter because he feel the change come over Steve like a warm welcoming blanket. He was focused on the upcoming meet and practicing every day after school with relay team and was happier then in had been in a long time.

Eddie also tried to push down the jealousy that boiled up in his stomach every time he saw Nick or Lyle sharing a joke with Steve as they walked out from practice to him waiting for them in the parking lot.

The only thing that kept Eddie from marching over there and staking his claim was that Steve would say goodbye as soon as he spotted Eddie. They could be in the middle of the greatest discovery known to man, but as soon as Steve saw Eddie in the parking lot, he would say his goodbyes and trot over to where he would be standing outside his van.

Once they were on their way, Eddie asked, “What do you tell them about me picking you up from practice?”

Steve took a deep breath. “I told them my car wasn’t working and that I had to wait until my parents were home again to get it fixed.”

“And when it suddenly works again next week?” Eddie asked with a raised eyebrow.

Steve grinned. “Miraculous!” He waved his hands in the air.

Eddie huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, okay.”

Steve took his hand. “I know this is hard for you and I want you to know it’s hard for me too.” He played with the singular ring on Eddie’s right hand.

“Yeah?” Eddie breathed.

“I don’t know if you ever had to witness the trainwreck of my relationship with Nancy,” he murmured, “but I’m super touchy-feely boyfriend. I Iike kissing by my locker, I like picking them up and spinning them around as a greeting, I like touching them in some way, like all the time. And that I can’t with you is killing me.”

Eddie pulled off to the side of the road. “Sweetheart, why didn’t you say something?” He had been feeling like he was alone in his fears, but hearing Steve’s confession cracked open something in him. A protective instinct to hide this boy away from every bad thing in the world.

Steve continued to play with the ring. “I didn’t want you to think I was being too clingy.”

Clingy.

That word. That horrible little word. It was final. He was going to go over to Nancy’s Wheeler’s house and forcibly make her apologize to Steve for every little thing he could think of. She took the sweetest, goofiest little dork and broke him to the point he lost all confidence in himself.

Steve had been firm that there was bad blood on both sides of his former relationship with Nancy Wheeler, but Eddie still had a hard time seeing that scales were anything but unbalanced in favor of Steve coming up roses. Like literal fucking roses. Steve had said that he had gotten sidetracked by Dustin when he went to apologize to her for their fight, and he had bought actual fucking roses. That girl did not deserve Steve in the slightest.

Eddie grabbed Steve’s hand and held it tightly in his. “Baby, have you met me? I make literal koalas look standoffish. But it is going to be way harder for you then for me. I’m used to people thinking the absolute worse about me. I don’t like it, but it’s a fact of my existence.” He brought Steve’s fingers to his lips. “You, on the other hand, went from...”

Eddie closed his eyes. “I don’t want to say being able to get away with anything. Because even I know that’s bullshit. But it was pretty damn close. And now you’re off the basketball team and they didn’t even make it to district finals much less state because you weren’t there. You’re still making waves with the swim team–”

Steve giggled.

“Laugh it up, smart ass,” Eddie snarked. “You knew what I meant.”

Steve ducked his head. “I know, but listening to you always makes me happy inside and that was too delicious a pun to pass up.”

“I make you happy, baby?” Eddie murmured, leaning across the center console.

Steve nodded, his blush tinting more than just his cheeks red. The flushing skin went from the tips of his ears all the way down that delicious column of throat.

“You make me happy, too,” Eddie breathed. “But the point I was trying to make is that I’m used to sneaking around, even if I don’t like it anymore then you do. It’s going to be a lot harder for you, and it’s something I’m going to have be reminded of once in a while, okay?”

Steve smiled, his eyes sparkling with warmth.

“Now come on,” Eddie said, pulling back into traffic. “I need to get you to my place, because Uncle Wayne isn’t home and I would really, really like to hear all the pretty sounds you make when you’re in my bed.”

Steve ducked his head.

“I need to see how far down that blush goes,” Eddie growled.

“Then you better step on it,” Steve whispered, lowering his eyelids and looking up at him through his eyelashes.

Eddie hit the gas and prayed to the traffic gods that a cop didn’t pull them over as he shifted in his seat to try get his erection to shift so it wasn’t so painful against his zipper.

*

They were barely through the door when they fell all over each other. Hands and mouths seeking their favorites spots on each other’s bodies. They grasped at the clothes that became a barrier to their want. By the time the backs of Steve’s knees hit the edge of Eddie’s bed, Steve was only wearing one loose sock and Eddie was completely naked.

“Baby,” Steve whispered. “I need you.”

Eddie let out feral growl as he bullied Steve onto the bed, tossing the sock over his shoulder. “Thinking of you in that skimpy little Speedo, water dripping down your toned, tan chest as you exit the pool, gets me so hard baby.”

Steve grinned. “You like that?”

Eddie grounded his cock into Steve’s and Steve let out a breathy moan. “It’s why I haven’t been able to actually watch you practice, Stevie. You’re practically sin on legs when you look like that.”

“If I’m sin, Eds,” Steve whined, “then you’re the devil himself.”

“Sap,” Eddie teased. He pecked a kiss on his boyfriend’s lips. “God, I love you so much.”

Steve wrapped his hand around Eddie’s neck, slipping underneath the curtain of curls. He pulled him closer. “I love you, too.”

Their bodies moving in time with their breath. Hands clasped together as Eddie continued to make the most delicious sounds come out of Steve. Breathy moans, little gasps, his name bubbling from those kissable lips. Eddie devoured each one. And then with one final shuddering gasp Steve came. Eddie swallowed that one, too before his own release came with a grunt.

Eddie got up and cleaned them off. He then slid into the bed next to Steve.

Steve pulled him close, so they were cuddling, Eddie’s head resting on his chest.

“I’m sorry you can’t be as affectionate as you want in public, sweetheart,” Eddie murmured. “Does it ever...I mean do you ever–”

Steve squeezed him tightly. “Never. You keep saying how hard it is for me and while that’s true up to a point, there is no doubt in my mind that this is worth it.”

Eddie raised his head. “Yeah?”

Steve kissed him deeply. “Always.”

****

Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16

Just a little heads up for this story, the first part of this story is NOT Nancy friendly. She feels vindicated about cheating on Steve because he is gay and really takes it out on him. Nancy and Jonathan also don't know that Steve wrote that comic book for Eddie and Eddie is more aware then they think he is.

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @danili666 @goodolefashionedloverboi @val-from-lawrence @i-must-potato @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @justforthedead89 @vecnuthy @irregular-child @bookbinderbitch @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @yikes-a-bee @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten @genderless-spoon @counting-dollars-counting-stars @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @dragonmama76 @scheodingers-muppet @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt @useless-nb-bisexual @angels-of-hades @mugloversonly

[slut4thebroken]

Hear me out: Dominant Neil Lewis saying this to his best friend “I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” Because Neil is so the type who hates it when someone’s attention isn’t on him like he’s possessive and desperate for it.

Barely proofread lol but enjoy <3

I’m trying to get better at being able to post fics that don’t have a difinitive start and end lol. That’s the main reason it takes me so long to write :,)

“Dude, you look like you’re gonna blow a blood vessel or something.” Lucian said, making Neil huff. 

“She’s letting some random dickhead feel her up!” He said defensively, throwing his arms around in a wild gesture at the appalling sight. 

“She’s a grown adult… She can do what she wants.” Jonathan spoke carefully, not wanting to set him off even more. “And he’s barely even touched her..” 

“You know what? If she’s gonna act so careless, it’s only right that I look out for her.” He said, now sounding more determined than angry. 

“Neil… don’t do something stupid.” Lucien’s warning fell on deaf ears though. 

“He’s definitely gonna do something stupid..” Jonathan said to the other man just as Neil started storming over. 

“Finding everything okay?” He gritted with a forced smile, practically glaring daggers at the douchebag who thought he could come into his store and touch his friend like some fucking pervert. 

“Yeah, man. Thanks…” He replied, sounding a little confused. You gave Neil a questioning look, but he ignored it and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. “Oh.. Sorry, I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.” He said to you, his tone almost making Neil feel guilty because the man genuinely seemed like he felt bad about this whole thing. 

“I don’t.” You said in a low voice, looking up at Neil and glaring at him.

“Yeah well she’s not interested in dating right now anyway.” He said definitively, making your eyes narrow even more. 

“Yes I am.”

“You’re not even her type.” That made you scoff, even though.. he was technically correct. “If you’re not planning on renting a movie you can see yourself out.” Neil said sweetly, giving the man a saccharine smile. 

“Uh… okay then.” He said awkwardly, giving you another look before finally walking out. 

“What the fuck was that?” You hissed, gently elbowing him in the stomach to get him off of you. 

“Sexual harassment is not tolerated at Gumshoe Video.” You stared at him for a moment, trying to read his tone, but you quickly realized that he wasn’t joking. 

“You can’t be serious.” You scoffed, crossing your arms over your chest. 

“He’s not even your type anyway, I don’t get why you were talking to him in the first place.” 

“It’s called making a friend. If you tried that every once in a while, you might have more friends than just the three people in this room.” You were quickly getting more frustrated and annoyed with him. 

“That’s what friendship is? So I can start feeling you up then?” You rolled your eyes at his immature response. 

“God- Neil, you can’t keep doing this!”

“I don’t like people touching what’s mine.” He said in a low voice as he took a step closer, bringing a light blush to your cheeks.

“We’ve been over this,” You sighed. 

“Yeah, we have. And yet you seem to keep forgetting.” He snarked. Knowing this conversation wasn’t going to get you anywhere, you rolled your eyes and walked over to flop down onto the couch next to Jonathan. He gave you an apologetic smile and you laughed quietly in response. Honestly you were surprised Neil didn't have a problem with you interacting with his friends. Maybe he just knew that they wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and make a move on you. 

“You're welcome by the way, for saving you from that creep.” He called out, making you roll your eyes again with an exaggerated huff. You’re not going to ever admit it because he’d start using it as an excuse for acting like this, but you were a little uncomfortable with the way that guy was touching you. Sure it was a playful hand on your shoulder, but you felt embarrassed and awkward, especially because you could practically feel Neil’s eyes on you throughout the whole interaction. 

“I was fine.” You grumbled, sinking into the couch a little and sulking. Truthfully, you kind of liked his protective nature. It made you feel wanted. But the longer this went on, the stronger that feeling became, making him even more overbearing to the point where you wondered if you’d ever actually be able to get a boyfriend while you were still friends with Neil. 

[wordsbyrian]

Not So Secret Girlfriend - Ona Batlle x Reader

Summary: Another Polyglot fic. In which everyone is suddenly very concerned with R's love life.

A/N: This was requested by someone months ago (I forgot to write down who it was because it wasn't an anon) and I finally got around to writing it. The ending isn't exactly what I wanted but alas.

The international break is something that you have conflicted feelings about.

On one hand, you get to see and play alongside your national teammates and represent your country at the highest level.

And on the other hand, you have to make two 9+ hour flights in two weeks and jet lag can be a real bitch.

At the beginning of your time with the national team, it was especially bad because not only were you jet lagged but you were also really nervous which affected the amount of sleep you were getting.

Now, more than three years since your first camp, you’ve got your place pretty locked in (even if you don’t start every game)  and some of your friends from the youth teams are here too.

You had previously thought it would be fun. Yet, you find yourself rethinking that considering you’re currently being harassed by Ashley Sanchez and Sophia Smith before you’ve even finished your coffee.

The source of the teasing is your phone which has chimed with a new text every 45 seconds since you’ve placed it on the table.

“Sophia, can you believe that Y/N/N just abandoned us to go play in Spain and now she’s too cool to even talk to us at breakfast,” Ashley asks in a tone that you are more than familiar with, it’s overly dramatic and you smile a little hearing it.

 “It’s crazy,” Sophia agrees. “Our little nerd is all grown up. Seems like just yesterday we were in France trying to get her to show off her language skills for the locals.”

“They grow up so fast,” Jaelin pretends to weep as she joins the three of you at the table.

Sighing deeply, you shake your head at them and reach for your phone only to end up glaring at Ashley when she snatches it away.

“Sanchez,” you say warningly, “It’s too early for this.”

“It’s too early for your phone to be blowing up like you’re the plug,” she responds before looking over her shoulder. “Naomi,” she shouts, “hurry up, we’re going through Y/N’s phone.”

“No, we’re not,” you say.

“Yea, we are,” Sophia and Jaelin say in perfect unison.

Sighing once more, you sit back and let it happen, focusing back on your breakfast.

It’s hard though because you’re practically forced to listen to their running commentary on the contents of your phone.

“All of her texts are in Spanish.”

“Makes sense, they’re all to her Barcelona teammates.”

“Nah, she texted us and Press too, those are in English.”

“And this one is from ‘Red Heart Emoji’ aka long-term secret girlfriend, but that’s in Spanish too.”

“It can’t be a secret if you four know about her,” you say not looking up.

“And yet, we know nothing about her except that she has brown hair and for some odd reason is attracted to you,” Naomi says, “Super cute, secret contact photo though.”

“Woah,” you say, slightly offended when the others chuckle. “I’m a fucking catch.”

“I’m sure mystery girlfriend thinks that,” Sophia starts, “But we’ve known you since you were 13 so we know better.”

“I should’ve found better friends when I had a chance.”

“You’d never get rid of us Y/N/N,” Jae says, “Here’s your phone back.”

Just as you reach for it another hand reaches out and grabs it.

You follow the hand until you see the face of the person it belongs to, and you can only shake your head when you see Kelley.

“Sup Baby Genius,” she says, “What’s this I’m hearing about a secret girlfriend?”

Standing up, you roll your eyes before taking your phone back from the veteran player and walking away.

“We’re not having this conversation,” you say, “See you at practice.”

“We will eventually Y/N,” Kelley shouts after you.

“No we won’t you,” you respond, making your way out of the room.

By the time practice comes around that afternoon, your love life has become a popular topic of conversation.

And much to your chagrin, it doesn’t seem like the other women plan on letting up anytime soon, every free moment sees you peppered with questions.

Luckily, or unluckily rather, your friends are more than willing to answer any that they can.

Their answers aren’t very satisfying considering they don’t actually know that much but it does get the others off your back for a bit.

The one question you do answer yourself though is because you’re slightly offended when you hear it.

“Do Christen and Tobin know,” someone asks.

And it hurts your feelings. The idea that you wouldn’t tell something this important to the two women who have become almost like surrogate parents to you.

“Of course they do,” you respond, “And before anyone asks, Mal does too, why do you think she isn’t asking questions?”

After that, the team mostly gives up on trying to get you to tell them who your girlfriend is.

Even Kelley leaves it alone although she does still make a show of moaning and groaning whenever she sees Sanchez and Sophia, upset once again that they didn’t tell her something.

But even that is nothing more than her usual playful whining which is great because it means that you can go back to focusing on how you're supposed to play against your girlfriend and club teammates at the end of the week.

You’ve played against them once before but that was years ago and you were only on the field for maybe three minutes.

Now though, you’re more experienced and Vlatko has already all but told you to expect to play the full 90.

This is why you’re not surprised when he asks you to share what you know about the Spaniards in the final meeting on MD-1.

“Well,” you say, looking at how the coaches think your opposition will lineup, “The most important thing is that they play a pretty positionless style, so don’t be surprised if you’re not marking who the lineup says you will be, hell, don’t be surprised if Mapi pops up as the CAM. And I know you think that stopping Alexia is paramount but Patri and Aitana can dribble around or through you with just as much skill if not more.”

“Thank you, Y/L/N is there anything else you care to tell us,” Coach asks.

“Athenea is fucking annoying,” you say plainly, much to the amusement of your teammates.

Vlatko, on the other hand, just rolls his eyes and continues with the meeting.

When it’s done and you’ve been released, you do your best to leave the room quickly but without drawing any attention to yourself.

It doesn’t work though because you’re stopped by the head trainer Mary.

“How are you feeling,” she asks.

“Good.”

“Jetlag gone? Sleeping well?”

“Yup, I’m ready to go,” you tell her, bouncing on your toes.

“Alright,” she says with a smile, “I’m done bothering you, go call your girlfriend.”

That stops you in your tracks and leaves you staring at the trainer with your mouth open and eyes wide.

“How did you know that,” you manage to stutter out.

“Well, one, this team can’t speak softly to save its life, and two,” she says, “I was 21 once too. Now go on.”

Shooting the trainer, you smile and rush off.

The next day, your pre-match routine goes off without a hitch. Morning meditation, headphones, and a vow of silence, sees you in the best possible headspace for the match.

You’ve done everything you possibly could to prepare for this but still, as you stand in the tunnel across from your club teammates, you can’t help but to feel slightly off.

It doesn’t matter though because before you know it, you’re in your spot on the field and the first whistle is blown.

You don’t touch the ball much in the first 15 minutes but in the 16th a quickly played pass from Sully sees you breaking down the wing with the ball at your feet.

It’s easy enough to get going at what is nearly full speed for you, your opponents not having expected you to take off rather than completing the give-and-go with Andy.

One of the people you get past is Athenea and you can’t help but toss an ‘adios’ over your shoulder on your way.

It’s a great run if you do say so yourself, but as you go to make the final cross into the box, you find it blocked by someone you are very familiar with.

You let out a curse as you trudge to take your place for the resulting corner but you can’t help but smile slightly as you see your girlfriend smirking at you.

No goal comes from the corner and the game continues.

Your next major involvement doesn’t come until the 25th minute and it’s because Patri tries to send a long ball over the top to get Athenea in behind. You manage to get the first touch to it, bringing it down softly. You even get a pass off sending it up to Sully but less than a second later, you’re laying on the pitch clutching your foot as the result of a late challenge from Athenea

It hurts really fucking bad but what it does more than that anything is piss you off. So you just get up and shake your head at her,

You know what face you’re making and your teammates on both sides of the ball know what it means: Athenea is going to be in for a long day.

For the rest of the half, you do your best to make her life a living hell, putting a little more force into your tackles and being slightly more annoying with your trash talk. And the ref, well she either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care because you manage to keep it clean even if you are toeing the line.

 Vlatko definitely notices though and at halftime, you get a very stern talking to about your aggression and making slightly better choices since some of your tackles put the ball right at Spanish feet.

You only sort of listen to him.

Your battle against Athenea continues into the second half but it’s not the only thing you have to deal with.

Part of Vlatko’s halftime talk included him wanting you to get forward more, putting the team in a 3-4-3 while attacking but keeping your standard 4-3-3 when you get back on defense.

This meant that you were doing a lot more running and that you had a lot more encounters with Spain’s right back, Batlle, in your attacking half.

It’s a lot of back and forth, especially with the game remaining scoreless. And the two of you can’t help but trade a few verbal barbs as well.

She tries and fails to body block you off the ball and you make a quip about how that might work against the WSL players but not you.

You over-hit a cross and she asks which of your veteran teammates taught you that.

In the 69th minute, when both teams go to make substitutions, you mouth the words ‘game over’ to her when you see that Sophia is coming on. She just shakes her head and points back to the sideline where you see Pina and Lucia Garcia standing by the 4th official.

Those subs do mean the end of your battle against Athenea but you don’t actually care about that since you’ll have plenty of time to annoy her during the next Clasico match.

The subs do have the desired effect though because, in the 79th minute, you manage to send in a through ball that finds Sophia’s feet before it hits the back of the net.

Unfortunately, the lead doesn’t last long because, in the 84th minute, Batlle gets an assist of her own by cutting the ball back to Aitana who rockets it past Naeher.

And the game ends that way, a 1-1 draw.

Immediately after the final whistle, you find yourself shaking hands and being pulled into hugs by your Barcelona teammates. 

There are a couple of jokes cracked and Mapi repeatedly asks what you kept saying to Athenea to piss her off but you refuse to tell her. Both Pina and Patri ask for your jersey but you tell them it’s already been promised to someone else. They ask who and you don’t tell them.

20 minutes later, you’re leaning against a wall somewhere in the depths of the stadium holding said jersey in your hand and waiting for someone.

You don’t wait for long, no more than five minutes before someone launches into you like a heat-seeking missile.

“Long time no see, Onita,” you greet, looking down at your girlfriend who has already buried her face in your shoulder.

Her response is grumbled into your shoulder and since you can’t really understand it so you just chuckle softly and hold her tighter.

The two of you stand there for a while holding each other and engaging in soft conversation. Nothing important is said, it’s just the two of you enjoying a quiet moment.

It lasts a while but not nearly long enough because suddenly there are voices coming towards you from both sides of the hallway.

From the left, a loud American you instantly recognize as Sanchez is trying to convince someone to make a bet with her about what you're doing. And from the right, another group, you vaguely recognize one voice as Leila, shouting in a mixture of Catalan and Spanish. That group is too hectic for you to make out what’s being said.

“Time’s up,” she whispers to you, trying to take a step back but failing when you don’t let her go.

“It’s fine,” you tell her, “Although Leila might give you the kicked-puppy look for a couple of weeks.”

A few seconds later, both groups stand in front of you with various looks of shock on their faces.

From the US, it’s exactly who you thought it would be, Sanchez, Sophia, and Mal, who barely waits half a second before pulling out her phone and texting who you assume to be Christen and Tobin. The Spanish search party consists of Leila (obviously), Pina, and Patri, who bursts out laughing like this is the funniest thing she’s ever seen.

A moment passes…

And then an explosion of noise as they all begin to speak at once, the languages mixing and overlapping in a way that’s impossible to follow.

Taking a deep breath, you separate yourself from Ona, giving her a quick kiss and passing her your jersey. Once no longer intertwined, you take a step forward, hold a finger up to your lips, and wait for the group to quiet down before speaking.

“I will be taking no further questions. Thank you,” you say once they do, immediately turning on your heel and walking away.

There’s another explosion of noise as everyone protests that and just underneath it, you can hear Ona laugh before she calls your name which makes you stop and turn back to her.

“Y/N/N, aquí, toma esto,” she says, tossing you her Spain jersey.

Catching it, you smile at her before turning back around and continuing to walk away.

You get maybe 15 steps away before you hear what sounds like a herd of bulls coming up behind you as your teammates catch up.

“Kelley is going to be so mad that we know who your secret girlfriend is and she doesn’t,” Sophia says, falling into step with you.

“It’s going to be great,” Sanchez grins.

“Just do me a favor and wait until I’m back in Spain to tell her that you know,” you respond, “I can’t deal with that backlash in person.”

“What do I get in return?”

You take a moment to think about it before answering, “A favor in return, no questions asked.”

“Deal.”

“Y/N,” Mal shakes her head at you, “You just made a deal with the devil.”

“Too late now.”

[youthereader]

Gator catches you.

PAIRING: gator tillman (fargo) x teenage fem!reader

SUMMARY: 2.4k. Gator finds you on the edge of town after he lets you get away.

RATING: e; NONCON, mentions of underage drinking and drug use, reader is an 18 year-old high schooler, unprotected anal sex, vaginal fingering, public sex, gaslighting, angst, dead dove do not eat

A/N: this took a much darker turn than the first part. I didn't plan on writing more for this character but a couple people wanted more. this is a dark fic, so if it's not your jam, turn away now.

Part 1. (Gator blackmails you.)

You sense that your friends are suspicious after Gator Tillman caught you and not them that night. They ask about what happened and you lie, saying you managed to talk your way out of it, he let you go with a warning.

They’re thankful, initially, because you never ratted on them, though they deserved it for ditching you. Then you feel them start to pull away from you, especially after you blow a couple of your male friends at parties. It’s not like you, and that’s the point. You’re chasing a high you can’t get from guys your age. You blow them, and they enjoy it, but what makes you a target from then on is how quickly it happened. Two guys in the space of forty-eight hours.

Rumors start around school and it eventually gets back to you, that you’re a slut now, and random guys that have never spoken to you before ask for your Snapchat and harass you in-between classes about hanging out on weekends. The attention is weird, and so obvious. You’ve never been known for anything before, and now you exist.

The emptiness you feel from hooking up since Gator frustrates you, but nothing is worse than how unsatisfied you feel every time you make yourself come. The relief is so fleeting, that within seconds of finishing you need more. No fantasy is enough, and you’re at it night after night, not sleeping enough.

Your grades aren’t suffering yet but your homeroom teacher asks to see you, expressing their concern. They say you’re not yourself, you don’t seem as happy. Honestly, you’re not. Things felt less complicated before. You used to not search the main road of town for anyone. You used to want to be invisible.

To let off steam, you go to a party with those same shitty friends, but this time some college guys are there with weed and pills. You smoke a little, but drink more, end up under one of them but don’t remember much of it. The next morning, a friend pulls you aside, a smirk barely hidden as she asks:

“You know we heard you begging that guy to choke you, right?”

The humiliation hits you and you shake your head. “Fuck off. I’m not into that weird shit.”

“Your kink’s your kink, dude,” she retorts, shrugging. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Shut the fuck up, because it’s not my kink,” you snarl, and her eyes flash with irritation.

“Whatever.”

The anxiety you used to feel when you thought you might have upset one of your friends doesn’t come on as strong this time. You don’t care if they decide to exclude you, not if they’re going to make fun of how you want to fuck.

All you care about is trying to find a way out of this funk, by any means necessary. You hang around one of the guy friends you blew, doing dumb shit that culminates in some light graffitiing. Not exactly your area of expertise, as it turns out.

You realize too late that you’re caught, your friend yelling to run away. In your defense, you’re a little high from a joint you shared earlier, so when the spray can you’re holding is knocked out of your hand, it plays in slow motion. It clatters across the ground in the alley you still occupy, and you turn around, fingers wrapping around your neck as you’re pulled to your feet.

Gator lifts you up, shoving you against the wall, knocking the wind out of you. You cough, hands going to his wrist. His gloved hand doesn’t budge when you try to scratch him off.

“You fuckin’ bitch,” he hisses, his eyes alight with amusement.

You can’t breathe, feet kicking him, but he’s stock still as he stares back at you, then glances at your handiwork.

“What the fuck,” he adds, sounding a little amazed. “Since when are you doing this petty shit?”

You can’t reply of course, and he pays you no mind, letting you go. You tumble, your knees breaking your fall, as he moves closer to the wall to inspect it. On the ground, you cough and hold your throat, sure you’re going to puke, but you don’t. The world spins regardless, righting itself in time for you to see him stalking you again. You scamper backwards, and Gator stands over you, hands on hips.

“If I find you by yourself again, you’re dead.”

You wonder what he means, because he’s not threatening arrest this time. Your eyes slip down his front and you spy the outline of his erection. Your fear enticed him again. The thrill that runs through you is like no other, and your chest heaves some more, the air not quite filling you enough.

“Gator –”

He walks away, and in a way, you’re grateful because you don’t know what you would have said to him. You lean against the wall, closing your eyes, your neck still aching.

-

You’re past caring. You can be friendless now, it’s not as if they were helping you to begin with. You go to school, you go home. You do nothing on weekends. You get isolated quickly, predictably. It would be sad if you were your younger self.

You walk alone everywhere when your house feels cramped. You don’t want your parents to worry, they’ve never been particularly invested in your social life to begin with. You slip out one afternoon and find yourself walking along the road Gator drove you down.

You think about him almost constantly, like a low hum in the background you can occasionally ignore, but it’s always there. The sun is starting to set later in the afternoon, the worst parts of winter are over. It’s not snowing anymore, but the air still is fresh, making your of your face tingle.

In your own world, it’s no wonder that a car pulls up by you. The road is otherwise empty, and you know who it is before you even look towards it.

Gator rolls down his window, calling out your name. You  glance his way, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter, your face burning.

“I’m not doing anything wrong,” you call back, not stopping.

You’ve been waiting for him, for what feels like weeks. Maybe months? Years, if you’re truly honest? You didn’t know you needed him until now. This darkness.

“I told you you’d regret walking alone…”

You stop abruptly at that, glaring at him, and the car rolls to a stop. He gives a grin, takes a long drag of his vape. You say nothing.

“How come I heard you’re fuckin’ random guys for weed?”

“Why would you care?” you throw back. You cringe. “I mean, you’ve got no evidence-”

He smiles again. “I am the law, baby. But I mean if you’re doin’ shit like that, I might need to get checked.”

“You’re disgusting,” you snap, and turn your heel.

You hear him open his door but you walk on, not sure what you want. If he takes you to the station now, your reputation is hardly worth saving at this point. Must have been one of your so-called friends that started the rumor he heard. If he wants to blackmail you again, is there any point fighting him? You miss him, he fucked you up.

You can’t stop the anger that boils over, when he grabs your arm and jerks you back.

“I’m talkin’ to ya-”

He kisses you on the lips and you bite him on the lip, Gator pulling back with a yell, his fingers going to his lips. You freeze, terrified by your own stupid impulse.

“What the fuck? You fuckin’ bit me?!”

He grabs you by the neck and marches you back, shoving you against the hood of his car. His hips meet your ass and you can’t move, he’s way too heavy though you struggle against him. Whatever desire you have for him, when Gator is angry he is fucking terrifying. You have no idea what he’s capable of. He has a gun, for fuck’s sake, and you’re just some kid sister of his friend’s.

His hand is down the back of your pants and you shriek, his gloved fingers invading your cunt without preamble, the tears springing in your eyes. You grip him back, his low chuckle behind you.

“Fuck me,” he murmurs. “You’re over-complicatin’ this…”

You close your eyes, trying to reel it in, the fear… the pleasure beginning to coil in your stomach. You hear the harsh squelches of your cunt being worked, you hear his belt unbuckling–

“Gator, please…”

You blubber, your legs shaking as he yanks your pants down, ridding you of his fingers, only to pin you back down against the cold metal beneath you. He keeps your arms pinned behind you, and you can’t see what he’s doing, you’re forced to listen, to wait.

Everything careens forward as you feel him take a swipe of your juices and move further up, up, up to between your cheeks. You start to sob louder.

“Shh. Shut up!”

“Gator, wait. Wait, please, wait – wait – don’t -!”

He rubs at your puckered hole, the sensation making you whimper and plead. You’re not ready, you’ve never done this before. Your bare ass exposed to him, you’re completely helpless, and you know that’s what gets him off.

“You’re worth freezin’ my balls off,” he whispers, and you know what’s happening next, but you can’t quite believe it.

Not until the first push of the tip of his cock against your asshole, and you tense, whimpering as you squirm beneath him.

“Just relax. Relax!”

You grit your teeth, tears streaming down your face as you feel him push past the first ring of muscle. The pain is like nothing else in your life, and you go still, succumbing to it. He groans, chuckles in awe.

“Holy shit. Holy shit…”

He fills you up, then starts to move back and forth, slow at first. You feel stretched beyond comprehension, like at some point you’ll break. Like he’ll literally tear you open. It burns, until it doesn’t, your body turning lax Gator fucks you hard, but slowly. With each knock of his body against yours, you hear the slap of your skin, your cheek rubbing the hood of his car.

His hand on your ass cheek slips under, and you yelp at the feeling of his hand covering your pussy, brushing the folds as he never stops.

“I gotta-”

He replaces his hand again, having tugged off his glove with his teeth, and he starts to chuckle again, low and a little breathless.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You don’t bother arguing, because you know you are. There’s no turning back, from how your body just won’t cooperate for you when you need it most. You feel wound tight, Gator on your throbbing clit as his hips smack against your ass.

He unexpectedly tucks his fingers inside your cunt again, the sensation making you tense up again. You wail as he works you, he’s no longer pinning you against the car to stop you from escaping. He dedicates himself to pleasure, yours and his, his thumb rubbing against your clit as he reaches the deepest parts of you.

You feel the sudden urge to pee, panicking. If you struggle, but even with your arms free, you can’t shift his weight, your hands blindly trying to reach behind to shove him off.

You give an almighty shudder and come hard, losing your vision. Your orgasm is long and intense, and like nothing else you’ve managed before. It almost hurts from the intensity of it. You blink back the world as you recover, your empty cunt twitching as Gator wrings his hand.

“Made you squirt…”

He takes hold of your hips and bears down, speeding up his thrusts. He doesn’t stop, and it’s hurting more, with your thighs soaked, his cock working in and out of you without reprieve.

“Can’t get ya pregnant, this was the only way-”

He makes a choked sound and goes still, half falling on top of you, and you know he’s come inside you without checking. You feel him pull out and you wince, and then there’s a trickle down your crack.

He steps back and you take the opportunity to pull your pants up again, panting like he is, leaning on the hood of his car. You’re still in shock, not pulling away when he grabs your chin and kisses you, tongue slipping into your mouth.

A beat later he changes his mind, taking hold of your front and pulls you towards the backseat. He opens it and puts you inside, goes to his door and slips back in.

He takes deep a lungful of air, sighing. You stare at your legs, your damp pants. Everything feels warm and sticky, and you’re sweating.

“You okay?” he asks, and you glance at him in the rearview mirror, perplexed.

“What?”

“You came, right?”

You look away. You know why he’s saying that. It’s to make it seem like he’s not guilty of anything. You swallow hard.

“I would’ve… done those things if you’d asked me to,” you say.

He frowns. “What are you talking about?”

You go quiet, and you see he’s driving you home. You can’t believe this happened in broad daylight, thinking that would make a difference at all. Apparently not to Gator.

“Hey, I’ve been followin’ you. It was bound to happen sooner or later to you, since you’re actin’ so dumb and reckless. It’s better it was me than some other guy you don’t know-”

“But I don’t know you,” you retort, your voice hoarse with tears. “I don’t.”

“Yeah, you do. And stop cryin’. It’s a real turn-off.”

“You’re… fucking evil,” you whisper.

He looks at you, turning his head to glare at you through the partition this time.

“Hey, you got off.”

He turns back, and you travel in silence back to your house. There’s no car in the driveway, no-one is home yet. He doesn’t move to get out of the car, your eyes meeting in the mirror.

“You tell anyone, I’ll kill ya.”

You believe him, but you deflate with a kind of weariness instead of turning still with fear like he hoped.

“Yeah, I figured.”

He lets you out, and you walk to your front door without looking back. The kicker is that once he leaves, you take a long time to clean yourself up. You peel off your clothes, smell his come and yours all over you when you stand in the bathroom, the shower running already.

You savor each step of it, seeing pink water in the bottom of the shower. He hurt you, badly, and yet you feel that longing again.

He’s that high you need to chase.

if you're still here, thanks. 🖤 if you want more, hmu.

[morganbritton132]

Hi I love EMTTS. Regarding the post about Steve getting harassed by “fans” I don’t see anyone actually confronting him in public. because people on the internet only have that much confidence because they’re anonymous . which in this case is great because a physical confrontation from a stranger is terrifying, let alone a stranger who think they know you and your husband . poor Stevie, poor Eddie <3

Thank you!!! And I agree!

I also don’t see someone actually confronting Steve in person either and when I tried to write it, it just never felt like a natural progress in the story. I also agree that people are more confident on the internet because of the anonymity of it. People are a lot bolder behind a keyboard than in person.

Also, Steve doesn’t drive. If he’s out in public, he’s typically with someone or he’s meeting someone. But I do think that the paranoia would sit in the back of his mind when he is out.

Steve often got coffee with Robin on Wednesday before the start of her late class and then he stopped. The last time they sat in the little coffee shop on the campus she teaches at, all he could think about was someone trying to hurt him and hurting her instead. Every time the bell over the door rang, it was a guy with a gun and a hatred for Steve so deep that they’d kill his best friend, and he couldn’t do it anymore.

He couldn’t sit in a coffee shop and pretend like he wasn’t scared to death, so he stopped going. He started texting her that he wasn’t feeling well or that he had a migraine, and he started just staying home.

The day that Steve leaves his lunch, his house keys, and half of his students’ graded exams on the kitchen table, he remembers the news story about Lady Gaga’s dogs being kidnapped. He remembers reading the story with mild interest, and then he can’t take Ozzy on a run that night.

He can’t even get out the door and he’s so distressed about it that Ozzy has to comfort him.

He can’t sleep. Every noise sounds like a person that hates him.

“Hello, Earth to Steve,” Eddie says, waving a hand in his direction. Steve startles and blinks at him as Eddie says, “Ground Control to Steve Harrington. Do you copy?”

“I copy,” Steve says, stabbing at his breakfast. His pancakes are soggy. “What?”

“You’ve been checked out for like, ten minutes, babe. I was about to break out the Springsteen,” Eddie grins at him. It’s a joke, and Steve feels like he should apologize but Eddie’s already moved on, “What’s got your brainwaves all tied up, huh?”

“Just thinking.”

“A dangerous thing,” Eddie jokes, wiggling his eyebrows. “Thinking about me?”

Eddie’s trying to get a smile out of him so Steve gives him one, but it’s small and it’s fleeting. He doesn’t feel like smiling when he stabs at his pancakes again and says to the plate, “I’m, uh. I think. I’m thinkin’ of retiring.”

Eddie drops his fork, “No shit, really?”

Steve meets Eddie’s eyes as best he can and he gives a smile that feels like there’s weight behind it, and then he looks away. He clears his throat.

He doesn’t say that he can barely speak to his students anymore. He doesn’t say anything about how he sees their young faces and he feels guilty. He feels shame and afraid because he never said anything about that first letter.

He looks at their faces and he thinks about all the good they can do, and then he thinks about the type of people that send hate in the mail, and what happens when that isn’t enough. He’s scared because every time he walks to the principal’s office to say something, he can’t find the words so he has to – “I think it’s time, Ed. To just – to get out of there.”

“Babe, you can go on tour with me,” Eddie says, eyes all bright with possibilities. Steve likes the look on him, and he nods alone even if he stops hearing the words. He only tunes back in when there is a hand on his cheek and Eddie looks concerned instead of happy, “Steve, you’re crying.”

“It’s just a lot,” Steve says.

Eddie strokes the side of his face and gives him a more subdued smile, “Yeah, it is. I think you should think more about it, babe. See if it’s something you actually wanna do, you know. That sound like a plan?”

Steve nods and his voice is a little tight when he says, “Yeah.” 

[goldenseresinretriever]

False Confidence: Chapter 2

Pairing: Javy “Coyote” Machado x Reader

Part of the San Diego Dogfighters universe

Summary: The Athletic named Javy Machado the fifth sluttiest player in the NHL last year. He’s a known playboy who leaves every game with a different girl. As far as he’s concerned he’s living the dream, playing his dream job with the dream lifestyle. Unfortunately his friends and bosses don’t agree. At 33, they think it’s time for him to settle down. You’re a kindergarten teacher at an esteemed private school. You don't expect much when you finally accept your colleague’s invitation to attend her husband’s hockey game but when you accidentally get separated in the post-game rush, you find yourself in a compromising situation with the last person you’d ever expected to meet. When his PR rep suggests a mutually beneficial agreement, your hands are tied. How long will you have to keep up the act? And how long will you be able to?

Series CW: 18+ ONLY, swearing, angst, fluff, fake relationship, suggestive language, mentions of sexual harassment, anxiety, school system inaccuracies, hockey inaccuracies etc. There will be individual chapter warnings. No use of Y/N.

Word Count: 4.7k

A/N: This is a repost from my series, False Confidence. It was originally posted in March 2023, and was lost when my blog was deleted.

Previous Chapter // Series Masterlist // Next Chapter

Everyone’s waiting for your answer but your head is spinning. The silence stretches for just shy of too long before you finally clear your throat. “Can I have a minute?” You stand, shakily, pushing your chair back and making for the door. You curl your fingers around Josie’s wrist as you pass her, tugging her after you. No one tries to stop you and when you exit into the hallway, it’s empty. You glance in both directions, find them unfamiliar and then just pick one, dragging Josie behind you. Once you think you’re out of earshot of the office, you round on Josie who’s regarding you calmly. Your hands are still trembling but you can’t hide your anger anymore and you snap. “What were you thinking!” You snap and Josie’s eyes widen in surprise. Your voice trembles but the bite is still there. “First you tell me to sue him for sexual assault and now you want me to date him?!” Josie sighs, rolling her eyes.

“You really think that little of me, Roadie? Look, what he did was fucked up, and I knew you wouldn’t want to press charges because you’re well, you, but I want to support you if that’s something you really want. Either way he deserves to pay for what he did. If you don’t want to take this to court that’s fine, but why not benefit from this? You said it yourself, you’re worried about Dan’s rule, so play the system. Also, I didn’t say you should date him because I wouldn’t wish that fate on my worst enemy, I said to fake date him. It’s just a game, like playing pretend. It’s January, Dan makes his decisions on renewals by April at the latest and then maybe you stick with it until the end of the year and then you can say you broke up over summer break and it’s over. Plus it’s perfect, just have him show up to a few school events. It doesn’t have to be every one since he has a career that has him traveling most of the year, so you have a good reason when you don’t bring him to something. And since he’ll be gone most of the time anyway, you don’t have to put much effort into the ruse.”

“Plus,” she gives you a rueful smile. “As much as it pains me to say it, Javy’s not such a bad guy. I don’t approve of his choices but I know from seeing him with the guys and Zam especially, he’s got a good heart. When he says he’s sorry and that he didn’t mean to hurt you, I think he means it. The guy has three sisters for heaven’s sake. I wouldn’t even think of suggesting this if I didn’t trust him in some capacity. And like I said, it’s not like you’re actually dating him.” She shrugs again.

“I couldn’t do something like that. Using someone that way? It’s not right.” Your heart squeezes as you force the words out and you try your best to ignore the way your voice shakes. Josie gives you a pointed look.

“He’s using you too, remember? Zam needs him to fix his reputation. A steady girlfriend is exactly what he needs, or at least the illusion of one.”

“Does he need it, or does the team?” Your words have more bite than you intended and Josie regards you curiously.

“He is the team. It’s his job, the way your teaching position is yours.” She says coolly. “I’m not going to force you one way or another, but I’m just saying, an opportunity like this isn’t going to come around again.” Your stomach is a tangle of nerves as Josie goes back inside and you consider her words. It would be mutually beneficial for both of your jobs, and he clearly wasn’t attracted to you, so perhaps some kind of agreement wouldn’t hurt. You can’t believe you’re actually considering this but you think about your kids, your classroom, and your job that you really do love. If this was what you had to do to guarantee that you kept it, you could play the game. Your kids are everything and you take great pride in your work. As a kindergarten teacher, you’re the kids’ first impression of the school and you take that job very seriously. The idea of having to hand that over to someone else makes your heart twist painfully in your chest. You can do this for them.

“Hey,” a voice breaks through your train of thought and you jump in surprise. Javy holds his hands up in front of him, backing up a step to give you space. “Easy, I didn’t mean to scare you, I’m not going to hurt you.” He says, brown eyes widening at your terrified expression. You feel your body curl into itself instinctively and see a flicker in his eyes that you can’t read. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He says slowly, eyes running over your figure but not in a scrutinizing way. If you didn’t know better, you’d think he was checking you over. “So,” he says, posture relaxing as he leans a shoulder against the wall as he regards you. “How are you feeling about this agreement?”

You pick at the fabric of the skirt of the dress, averting your eyes so you don’t have to look at him. After it’s been a little too long without you answering you give a slight shrug before you force the words out, your voice quiet. “I really love my job. I don’t want to lose it.” It’s not an answer, not really but he nods slowly as you chance a peek at his face to see his reaction. He catches your gaze and gives you a small smile. It feels like the first peek of the sun through an overcast sky after a storm. It sends an unexpected droplet of warmth plummeting straight into your stomach. You find that you don’t want to escape his gaze nearly as much after seeing that soft quirk of his lips. Cautiously, you turn to face him fully and watch as the corners of his mouth slowly tick up in tandem. The clouds move apart and as you’re bathed in his warmth, you wonder what it would feel like to experience the full force of his smile. You think it might destroy you.

“What about you?” You don’t recognize your voice when you find it. You clear your throat and try again. “How are you feeling about the agreement?” He shrugs his broad shoulders.

“There are worse things.” You suppress the urge to flinch at his casual words that send a slice of cold down your spine. “Zam’s been on my ass for months about settling down, that’s true.”

He pauses so you ask, “And you wouldn’t rather have an actual girlfriend? A real one, I mean.” He gives you a curious look.

“I could ask you the same thing,” he points out and you feel your cheeks heat as you avert your gaze from the intensity of his.

“No,” you answer softly. “I wouldn’t.” You don’t offer any additional explanation so he just nods.

“Well, I wouldn’t either.” He says and you realize you’ve unintentionally placed the two of you at a stalemate. “So, that’s it then?” He asks, finally breaking the silence. “We’re doing this?” You swallow hard before nodding firmly.

“We’re doing this.” He nods back before extending a hand into the buffer of space he’d left between the two of you. You stare at it for a long moment before extending one of your own. He holds his hand still, leaving it to you to wrap your digits around his larger ones. He curls his around yours then and you’re reminded of how they felt on your hips, pressing into the flesh like a potter molding clay. When he shakes your hand you watch the muscles flex in his arm and wonder if you’ve unknowingly thrown yourself into the deep end, condemned to a death by drowning.

“Hi, I’m Javy, nice to meet you.” Even though he’s told you his name once before, this feels different. You introduce yourself as well. It feels odd. You’ve known him before ever being introduced. This feels different, almost like the air between the two you had shifted. He lets go of your hand as quickly as he grips it and holds out his hand back towards Zam’s office.

“Shall we?” He asks and you nod, turning to go ahead of him. You feel the ghost of fingertips against the small of your back and you stiffen instinctively at the unexpected contact. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologizes instantly, pulling his fingers away. “I’m a naturally touchy guy. It’s a bad habit, I’ll try to be more aware of it if it makes you uncomfortable.” He sounds genuinely apologetic and maybe a tiny bit embarrassed. He holds the door to the office open for you as you both enter and you square your shoulders, willing them not to shake as you approach Zam’s desk.

“I’ll do it.” Zam looks surprised but nods before turning to Javy.

“Javy?” You don’t turn to look at him but the pause before his answer tells you he’s nodding.

“I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Zam says, not sounding very convincing before she tries again. “Good. I’ll draw up something official that the two of you can sign. In the meantime, the two of you should get to know each other. Javy, I’ll arrange a press conference at which you’re going to address the photos and ask the press as well as your fans to respect your girlfriend’s privacy. After that you’ll need to start appearing together in public: dates, Roadie you’ll need to start attending home games and maybe even an away game or two where your schedule permits.” Your brain starts getting hazy as the weight of what you’ve just signed up for settles onto your shoulders. Zam’s still speaking but your brain is louder as it gets heavier and then Zam’s dismissing everyone.

You feel Josie’s hand on your shoulder, steering you towards the door. You file out of the office with everyone else and follow behind Josie, your mind still so busy that you don’t hear the calling of your name until a hand curls around your wrist and you jump, letting out a squeak of surprise. The hand retreats instantly and Javy gives you a guilty look. “Sorry, but you weren’t answering.” He scratches the back of his neck. You give him a shy nod, twisting your hands in front of you. “I don’t have your phone number. I figured that’s probably important.” You fumble to extricate your phone from your purse, tapping at the screen with trembling fingers before handing it to him. He inputs the digits with ease before handing the phone back. “Cool, well I’ll be in touch.” He says before giving you one last smile before turning to jog down the hallway in the opposite direction.

Once he’s gone you look down at your phone, and your eyes widen as you see what he’s done. Your texts are open to a new conversation with a contact named “Big Sexy ;)” with a single bubble from your side of the chain reading “How’s dinner sound?” Your phone chimes and a message pops up from the opposite side of the screen.

“It would be my pleasure.” Followed by an unfamiliar address. Your breath catches in your throat. Not for the first time today you wonder if you’re in over your head.

***

Your kitchen looks like a hurricane’s gone through it. The result of the storm perches on the corner of the counter, prompt seated in a frilly baking dish. The lemon-blueberry loaf fills the space with a delicious aroma as you frown at your reflection. You’d finally invested in a full-length mirror at Josie’s behest and you’re still getting used to using it. You smooth your hands down the surface of your light-wash jeans, resisting the urge to tug at the sweater you’re wearing as you regard your reflection. Your eyes shift to the sliver of the kitchen that you can catch in the mirror and frown at the mess. You’re a stress baker and so far today you have the loaf you’re taking to Javy’s along with muffins for your class tomorrow and another tray for the teachers. You glance at the clock on the wall and grimace. If you don’t leave now you’ll be late and you don’t need that extra stress on top of everything else on your mind tonight. You begrudgingly grab your purse and the loaf pan, heading out as the sun starts to paint the sky with the warm pallet of sunset.

***

You googled the apartment complex before you left but that doesn’t stop you from craning your neck up at the impressive reflective surface of the luxury apartment building. It’s smack in the middle of downtown San Diego and you’d passed a packed highway of commuters heading in the opposite direction on your way here. As you step into the opulent lobby, you feel severely underdressed, especially as you approach the front desk. You’ve never seen an apartment with a front desk but then again you’ve never had reason to interact with the extremely wealthy aside from teaching their children. The woman at the front desk doesn’t look much younger than you but she could be older. It would make sense that a job like this would age you less than corralling elementary schoolers all day.

“Can I help you?” She asks with a nasal voice that has everything to do with her pinched expression of thinly veiled disgust as she gives you a once-over that’s definitely not in her job description. You give her a tight-lipped smile in response.

“I’m here to see Javy Machado.” You consider calling him Mr. Machado but if he’s supposed to be your boyfriend you need to sound comfortable around him. Especially since this probably won’t be the last time you have to interact with… Emma. You find her name tag as she finishes her silent assessment of you, a pitying smile on her lips.

“Oh honey, you’re not going to need that.” She nods at the loaf pan in your hands. “It’s not the kind of cake he invited you over for.” She smirks like she’s won some sort of game and you wonder exactly how many girls she’s seen come through here. You plaster your polite smile on even harder, imagining her as one of your students’ mothers. You’re not sure where your confidence comes from but maybe Roadie, fake girlfriend to superstar hockey player Javy Machado is braver than Ms. Roadie, kindergarten teacher, because you respond coolly.

“I’d appreciate it if you let my boyfriend know I’m here, please, Emma. We have dinner plans.” She looks like she’s about to snort but then her expression changes completely and you don’t understand until she addresses someone who must be behind you.

“Mr. Machado! Good evening!” She chirps cheerfully and she reminds you of a baby bird. Desperate. You steel yourself and turn to face Javy, keeping your brave face in place as best as you can.

“Perfect timing, sweetheart.” The words sound clunky and unfamiliar in your mouth and you see Javy’s eyes widen almost imperceptibly before understanding fills them.

“Hey beautiful, ready for dinner?” He leans in then, eyes watching you carefully as if trying to convey his intentions before his warm lips meet your cheek in a chaste kiss that sets your skin ablaze in its wake. You give him a simple nod, words failing you as you turn over the casual term of endearment in your mind.

Emma’s watching your exchange with barely contained shock. Javy doesn’t even pay her a moment of attention, nodding to the left in silent instruction and you follow him to an elevator bay. You register then that his hands are full of takeout bags and you immediately wrestle one from his grasp as he juggles them to free a hand for the keypad to the elevator. “Thanks," he says and you arrange the bag in your arms. “I hope you like Cajun.” The smell escaping the bags hits your nose then and your nostrils fill with the rich, spicy scent and you feel a little of the tension slip out of your shoulders even though the smell is entirely foreign to you.

“I’ve never had it.” You admit as the elevator arrives and the two of you board it.

“Never?!” He looks surprised before it melts into a grin that knocks the air out of your lungs. “Well, then this is the perfect place to try it for the first time. Well, other than New Orleans.” He amends and you nod along. The two of you fall into silence as the elevator climbs. You notice then what he’s wearing as you stand on opposite sides of the elevator. You’d felt underdressed in the lobby but he’s dressed in a faded ASU shirt and athletic shorts over socks and slide sandals. He notices you looking and gives you a rueful look. “I was banking on having time to change before you got here.” He explains and you shake your head, dismissing his half-apology.

“It’s fine. It’s your house after all.” He smiles again and the silence is back before the door slides open onto an entryway. You’ve arrived straight into his apartment and you let your eyes explore the beginning of his home. The entryway is sparse and undecorated. It looks stiff, devoid of personality. There’s a hallway that turns out of sight to your left and a closed door to the right.

“That’s the spare bedroom.” He explains as he slips off his shoes and you follow suit. “It’s a weird layout but it suits my needs.” You’re not entirely sure what he means until you follow him down the hallway. Once it opens onto the living room you think you understand Javy Machado just a little bit more.

The living room is a complete 180 from the entryway. The furniture looks expensive and the floor-to-ceiling windows overlook a breathtaking view of the city but the end tables are littered with picture frames and the space has a distinct lived-in feel. You get the feeling that his overnight guests don’t make it this far into the apartment. He makes a beeline for the kitchen and you hurry to catch up with him. You manage to catch sight of at least one of the frames’ contents and a soft smile quirks at your lips. A younger Javy and Jake grin back at you. Their arms are slung over each other’s shoulders, faces sweaty, wearing red and gold hockey jerseys that you assume are from ASU given Javy’s shirt of the same color. You make your way into the kitchen where Javy’s opening the bags and accounting for all the food. He looks up when you come in, depositing the extra bag next to him and the loaf pan beside it. He snatches it up, groaning as he takes a deep sniff of the contents.

“Roadie, this smells delicious.” He remarks before excusing himself to his bedroom to change leaving you in the kitchen. Once you’re alone, you feel the nerves start to creep back in. You worry the hem of your sweater as you wait until a faint jingling reaches your ears and you turn just in time to see a wary black snout make its way around the corner into the kitchen. Of all the things you’ve seen so far in Javy’s apartment, this is the biggest surprise. The tiny dachshund regards you curiously and you do your best to manage your nerves, knowing the dog can definitely sense them and squat down.

“Hi there,” you whisper cautiously and the dog approaches carefully. You reach a hand out and she sniffs it suspiciously before licking at your fingers and you can’t help the giggle that escapes your lips. You catch sight of her collar as you scratch her head gently. “Roxie” it reads and you smile wider. “Hi there, Roxie, it's nice to meet you.” Roxie seems equally pleased and rolls over onto her belly to encourage further scratches and rubs. You’re so consumed with her that you don’t notice Javy return until Roxie squirms into your grasp to face her owner, giving a playful yip. He’s gaping at the two of you and you’re instantly nervous again. You stand quickly, dusting your hands off on your jeans.

“S-sorry I didn’t mean to intrude I just- She came in here so I just- I’m sorry.” You sputter but he’s still staring at Roxie before he slowly moves his gaze to you. Something unreadable passes through his eyes and then he shakes his head.

“No, it's fine I just, she was supposed to be in the laundry room. And I…” he trails off before continuing. “She doesn’t usually like other people, especially strangers.”

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” he says, looking back down at where Roxie’s sitting, regarding him with a cocked head on the floor. He looks back at you, expression unreadable. “Should we eat?” You nod and follow him to sit at the countertop. He pulls two bowls out of the cabinets and opens up some take-out soup containers. “How do you feel about seafood?” Your stomach drops as nerves twist your gut. He looks up and must see your expression because he just nods and grabs one of the containers, dishing the hearty-looking stew into a bowl before passing it to you. “That one’s just sausage. I didn’t know where you stood on seafood, so I got both.” Your heart aches slightly as you thank him and take the bowl. He fills his bowl from a different container before taking a seat next to you. “So, Roadie,” he says after taking a few bites in silence, “tell me about yourself.”

You squirm slightly in your seat. You’ve never been one to talk much about yourself so you decide to stick to the basics, and treat this like a job interview. It kind of is a job interview, except you’re interviewing for a position after taking it instead of before. “I’m almost thirty. I’m a kindergarten teacher at Acacia Academy. That’s how I know Josie and Reuben. Josie and I are colleagues and their daughter Skylar is in my class.” Javy nods, before asking.

“Do you like it? Teaching?” You nod vigorously and you think you see a ghost of a smile on his lips.

“My kids mean everything to me. I can’t imagine doing something else.” You admit and he nods again.

“What do you do other than work?” You give him a confused look so he clarifies. “What are your hobbies?”

“I’m an artist,” you answer easily. “It’s not in any way professional by any means, but I like doing it.” You shrug.

“What kind of art?” He asks and you shrug again.

“I work with lots of mediums, I don’t like being limited to just one.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Painting,” you answer easily.

“Why?” He rests his chin on his hand and you feel pinned under his casual gaze. It feels odd, and unfamiliar, being the sole focus of his attention. It’s like walking to your car on a cloudless day and feeling every inch of your cool skin prickling under the unyielding warmth of the sun.

“It’s so versatile,” you explain, dropping your gaze to where your fingers pick at the napkin pinned under your bowl. There are so many styles and techniques and nothing is clear-cut. You’re not limited by the colors you have in front of you, everything can blend. Anything’s possible. The only limitation you have is your creativity.” An unreadable look passes through his eyes but then he’s back to normal. You don’t get long to dwell on it, though, before he’s back to asking you questions.

***

“So, you said your principal doesn’t care about making illegal rules because it’s a private school, so why not teach at a public school?” You fidget with your spoon, looking away from him before answering.

“Public schools aren’t really a good fit for me. I can’t get comfortable.” He doesn’t push and you’re thankful.

“Speaking of comfort, we should talk about how we’re going to do this.” At your confused expression, he elaborates. “Pretend to be in a relationship, I mean. For starters, if we’re really going to sell this, you can’t be jumping out of your skin every time I touch you. People are going to expect at least a little PDA.” He must see the wide-eyed dread on your face because he holds up a placating hand. “I’m not saying we have to make out every time there are cameras around, but holding hands, hugs, and the occasional kiss here and there are going to have to be something you’re comfortable with.” You nod, weakly. “That being said, if there’s anything specific you don’t want me doing, tell me. I don’t want you to be scared of me. We’re on the same team here. This doesn’t work if we’re not working together.” You nod, nervously. It wasn’t like this last time, this is all new territory for you. “If it’ll help you loosen up, we could just have sex. No strings attached, obviously, but if it’ll make you more comfortable-“

“NO.” Your voice comes out with more force than you intended it to, laced with terror as your heart hammers in your chest. What are you doing here? What were you thinking, agreeing to this? Of course, he’d expect you to have sex with him. He’s used to having a new girl every night. You’re losing the battle with your thoughts when Javy breaks right through them.

“Hey, HEY, easy Roadie, it was just a suggestion, we don’t have to.” He looks like he’s fighting the urge to grab your hands in his.

“Please,” you hate the way the word sounds. You want something to feel real. One first to be yours, truly yours. Clearly, he hates the way it sounds too because his face contorts into something unfamiliar before he nods.

“No sex, done.” He hesitates for a moment before he opens his mouth again, choosing his words carefully and you see a flash of rage in his eyes and you bristle in fear. “Roadie… I know I’m probably the last person you want to talk about this with, but I just,” he shakes his head, pushing forward. “Did, did someone hurt you?” You realize what the rage in his eyes is now. Not anger at you, for turning him down, but protectiveness. Because he’s taken your vehement refusal as something else. You faintly remember Josie mentioning that he has three sisters. Of course, that would be his first instinct. You shake your head quickly.

“No, no, it’s not that.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you and thinks you just don’t trust him as the fire in his eyes doesn’t dim.

“If you ever need someone to talk to, all the girls on the team are really sweet and would be willing to-“

“It’s not that.” You insist and you can tell he’s still unconvinced.

“Not that you have to talk to someone but I’m sure it might help-“

“JAVY, I’m a virgin.” You squeeze your eyes shut before blurting out the words, hiding from the shame that coats your throat in their wake. The silence between the two of you stretches long enough that eventually you crack open an eye to see his reaction, but there isn’t one. He’s just sitting there, waiting for you. You wrench your other eye open, struggling to get comfortable in the silence. Your fingers twist together in your lap as you wait for him to say something.

“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” He says, finally and you can see the gears turning in his mind as he follows his new line of thinking but you shake your head.

“No, I, I’ve been kissed before. It’s just… it’s been a while. I’m a little out of practice.” He nods, contemplating something unspoken before he nods again and looks you straight in the eye.

“Roadie, can I kiss you?”

[fluentmoviequoter]

Favors and Broken Promises

Requested Here!

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x journalist!fem!reader

Summary: When you begin receiving death threats while writing an article on a dirty cop, Deacon Kay reluctantly agrees to protect you. He makes the situation worse before it gets better.

Warnings: angst to fluff; non-descriptive fight scene and injuries. the detective and dirty cop's names are a somewhat obscure book reference

Word Count: 3.0k+ words

A/N: I didn't proofread this, but I'll be back soon to do so!

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist Directory | Deacon Kay Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

Deacon is attempting - and failing – to enjoy his day off. When his work phone rings, he sighs before answering.

“Sergeant Kay,” he greets, hoping this will be quick.

“Deacon, this is Detective Jeff Sherman.”

Smiling, Deacon is pleased that it’s not a SWAT call.

“What can I do for ya, Sherman?” he asks.

“I need a favor.”

“Anything for an academy classmate. Couldn’t have survived without you,” Deacon replies.

“It’s a big favor, Deacon. Big enough that if you say no I don’t have anyone else to ask.”

“What have you gotten yourself into? This LAPD business?”

“Yeah. It’s for a case I’m investigating. Dirty cop working in the academy.”

“LAPD academy? For how long?”

“Started around the time we were there.”

“We would have seen it, wouldn’t we? Is there any truth to the claims, Sherman?”

Sherman sighs, and Deacon isn’t prepared to hear, “You didn’t know to look, Deac.”

“Tell me what you need.”

“I’ve got a friend, a journalist investigating the cop, and she needs protection. She started receiving death threats last week, and she was being blackmailed before that.”

“Why call me?”

“It would be off the books. Our history and your time in private security make you the perfect choice to keep her safe while we find this guy, get to bottom the threats.”

“Of course. Like I said, Sherman, anything for you.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Investigating a dirty cop in the Los Angeles Police Academy isn’t as easy as one might think. After years in investigative journalism and a brief history in the criminal justice field, you found yourself drawn to telling the stories of the people who need justice the most but can’t get it for themselves. This particular story caught your attention because you know exactly what these young women are dealing with.

Walter Greener has been harassing, blackmailing, and assaulting female recruits since you were in the academy years ago. His history of mistreating women and the fact that he’s still at it with no record of any reprimands makes you eager to expose the truth.

You were likely one of the first. Greener harassed you constantly, and when he grew bold enough to assault you on numerous occasions, putting his hands on you or getting rough in the locker rooms after training, you began considering dropping out. Letting the actions of one man dictate your life seemed ridiculous, and you vowed not to quit without good reason.

When the first letter demanded something in exchange for your safety, essentially asking for a piece of your soul to keep your life, you knew you couldn’t keep going on the track you were on. You pulled away from your friends and family before dropping out and moving. During this time, completely alone, you began studying to become a journalist, refusing to let other women’s stories go unheard. Your classmate, Jeff Sherman, tracked you down and demanded to know what happened, able to see something that no one else could.

Years later, when you learned that Greener was not only a cop but was working in the academy, you had to return to the heart of Los Angeles and find the entire story; the good, bad, and ugly. Now that you have enough evidence, both past and present, you’re ready to write your article. There’s more than enough to get him fired and charged with harassment and assault if anyone else is willing to testify against him. The moment you began preparing the story, a death threat appeared in your email inbox. Within a few days, they were being delivered straight to your door.

The only relationship that survived your forced exit from the academy was with Jeff Sherman, so you called him and told him everything. He jumped to action, promising to find him and keep you safe. Believing him, you continue working on the story, unwilling to let Greener scare you away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“This woman have a name?” Deacon asks.

“You’re not gonna like it,” Sherman says before telling Deacon your name.

“Are you kidding me? No way, Sherman.”

“You already agreed, Deac. C’mon, man, do it for me?”

Deacon pinches the bridge of his nose, wondering how he went from being suddenly abandoned by you to being responsible for your safety. While you were in the academy, you dated Deacon for several months. He was happy, and things were getting serious, and then, out of nowhere, you started pulling back before disappearing completely. You dropped out of the academy, and Deacon had to accept that he’d likely never see you again. You broke his heart without giving him any idea about what happened. Even today, he is hurt and angry that you didn’t talk to him about the unknown issue. 

Unaware of how you were forced to pull away from him and the career of your dreams, Deacon has remained clueless about the blackmail and harassment that targeted your personal life. Each threat included your family and friends, including your cop friends and Deacon himself.

You and Detective Sherman only stayed in touch because he realized something was going on with all of the women and found you, cornering you for answers after your disappearance. 

Deacon already agreed and won’t go back on his word, but he really doesn’t want to see you again. Doesn’t want to be that close to you, responsible for you, any of it. He was pissed when you left, and he’s still so angry and hurt that he can’t imagine letting you walk into his life, his house, without at least providing a few answers. The idea of someone threatening to kill you, however, makes it harder to say no (if he could).

“You said death threats?” Deacon asks. “Are they bad?”

“They weren’t at first. Progressively, yeah, they’ve gotten graphic and detailed. The blackmail was rough too, though. Greener knows a lot about her.”

“Wait, Richard Greener? From the academy?”

“Right, you didn’t know, I’m sorry. That’s who the article is about. He’s still harassing and assaulting young girls in the academy and she’s trying to get to the bottom of it, get him fired or indicted.”

Deacon wants clarification on the ‘still’ aspect of Sherman’s statement but decides that getting close to this is a bad idea. It’s a job, nothing more, so he can’t let you get under his skin. The anger and hurt are as powerful as they were years ago, so Deacon will keep you alive and then watch you walk away again.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Why won’t you tell me who my bodyguard is, Sherman?” you ask, approaching a back door.

“Because you wouldn’t have come,” he admits while knocking.

The door opens, and you find yourself face-to-face with Deacon Kay.

“Hi,” you whisper, shocked to see him.

He ignores you, looking at Sherman instead. “Check for trails?”

“Of course, Deac. We weren’t followed. Thanks for your help.” He looks between you to add, “Don’t kill each other.”

Sherman walks away, and Deacon enters the house, leaving the door open for you to carry your bag inside.

“Guest room is the second door on the right,” he says, his back to you.

“Thanks,” you reply. “I’m sure you didn’t want to do this, but I appreciate it.”

“Oh, yeah, I just live for protecting people who intentionally piss off the wrong people with their second career choice of journalism. Because writing will change so much.”

You try to ignore his hurtful jab, opting to find the guest room instead of staying close to Deacon. He’s already forgotten this is supposed to be a job, letting his emotions control him. When you reemerge a few hours later, he wordlessly slides a plate of food to you.

“Thanks.”

“Feel free to throw it away if you suddenly decide you don’t like it, since you seem to enjoy that,” Deacon snaps, taking his plate into his room and closing the door.

“I think I might prefer the death threats,” you say to yourself.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Luca, you don’t get it. She left me, took part of me with her,” Deacon says quietly, pacing as he asks for advice.

“Sounds like she may still have it,” Luca offers. “Maybe give her a chance to explain. Have you talked to her yet?”

“Um- sort of. Nothing civil though.”

“Deac,” Luca sighs. “You can’t attack her for something she did back then and expect her to feel safe, for one, but that’s also no way to move on, man. At some point you just gotta let go and find something else.”

“You’re telling me to forgive and forget?”

 “I’m telling you to remember that neither of you are the same people you were back then. Give her a chance, and maybe be a little respectful of the fact that the man who destroyed her life is threatening to take it.”

“Thanks, Luca.”

Deacon ends the call and exits his room, noticing your door is closed. He sees your shadow move in the light under the door and decides that Luca’s advice can wait a day because his hurt feels brand new.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is that wise?” Deacon asks, walking into the kitchen the following morning. “Isn’t writing what got you into this?”

“Not exactly,” you answer, completing your outline.

“Well, it’s what got me into this, and it’s not my dream vacation, so maybe don’t do anything to make the situation worse, if you can manage that.”

You nod slowly, sad that Deacon seems stuck on what you did in the academy. If he can’t move on or at least give you a chance to explain after all this time, then it’s probably not worth trying, you think.

Deacon notices the sad, misty look in your eyes as you continue typing but exits the room before anything else happens. He’s not in the mood to give you pity or feel empathetic toward you; you got yourself into this situation, but you also drug Deacon into it.

Throughout the rest of the day, you don’t even react to Deacon’s jabs and outright mean comments. Whenever he sees you, you jump as if you didn’t know anyone else was around, are lost in thought, and ignore him, or stare longingly out the window. Even after stumbling upon you crying at two different times, he keeps pushing you, letting the past impact his current treatment of you. Deacon thinks you don’t seem to care, so why should he?

By the end of the first day, you refuse to meet Deacon’s eyes and try your hardest to avoid him. Deacon notices, of course, and realizes that something in your past must be affecting you, maybe even the same thing that made you leave him. Everyone seems to think Deacon needs to move on, but he’s not the only one.

✯✯✯✯✯

A few days into your nightmarish stay with Deacon, he wakes up in an especially bad mood, which shows in his snarky comments and low-aimed insults.

“Couldn’t make it as a cop so you sit behind a computer and judge those of us that answered the call to serve and protect,” Deacon mutters.

Tired and unable to take Deacon’s – for lack of a better word – verbal abuse for a moment longer, you snap. “Well, I am so sorry that I was harassed and assaulted so often that I didn’t feel safe anywhere, not even with you! Dropping out and pulling away from everyone I cared about was my only choice, and it hurt me just as much as it hurt you, Deacon, but I’m not trying to make you feel like a monster for letting me leave and not noticing that Greener was putting his hands on me every time you looked away!”

Deacon’s eyes are wide as you continue, “And if the panic attacks and trust issues get to be too much, I’ll just leave again, because I think anything would be better than sitting in this house, with the man who is supposed to be keeping me safe but instead is making a bad situation a whole lot worse.”

With your emotions raging, you can feel the panic attack building in your chest, and you storm away before Deacon can witness that level of vulnerability.

Once he’s alone in the living room, Deacon begins piecing together all of the little signs he missed before, growing more and more determined to make it up to you. From the academy to this moment, he has a lot of hurt to mend, but he can help you now, even if he didn’t back then. Your situation requires a reminder that there are good, trustworthy cops; despite his recent behavior, Deacon is one of the good ones.

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon knocks softly on your door, and you harshly rub the tears off your cheeks before answering.

“I’m so sorry,” he says when you come into view. Staying in the hallway, Deacon holds his hands before him, his genuineness evident in his gaze and body language. “I’m here with you and I will protect you, I promise.”

You nod, and he sends you a small smile before retreating into his room. Your heart feels a bit lighter, and Deacon’s does, too.

✯✯✯✯✯

Over the next few days, Deacon’s heart begins healing. He’s casually protective, gently moving you out of the way when you’re blocking something he needs, calmly asking you to stay away from the window, and refusing to let you out of his sight for too long. When you spend too much time in the shower, Deacon knocks and asks if you’re okay. Your responding laugh makes Deacon smile for the first time in too many years.

Deacon does more than a bodyguard should, with evident kindness and concern underlying each of his movements and commands. When he speaks, his words are nearly parallel to his previous comments.

“What are you writing?” he asks when he finds you curled on the couch with your laptop perched on your knees.

“Working on the article,” you answer carefully.

“I’ve read some of your pieces. You write on important topics in a way that makes them relatable. That’s admirable.”

Later the same day, he encourages you to keep writing when you mumble that it feels pointless.

“Even if you help one more girl, isn’t that enough?”

He even walks you to bed, holding the door open as he apologizes again. “And I didn’t mean what I said – any of it – but especially the part about you not being able to be a cop. We both know you were on track to be the best of us. But what you’re doing now is just as important.”

“Still can’t help but feel robbed,” you admit. “He took everything I loved.”

Glancing up at Deacon, you think he understands your meaning when he smiles.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Sergeant Kay,” Deacon says, answering his phone. “I’m off this week… How bad is it?... Yeah, I’ll get right back to you.”

“You should go,” you say, looking over your laptop. “Sounds like they need their best.”

“It’s a major hostage situation, and they only called because it’s urgent. I shouldn’t leave you, though, they can find someone else.”

“Deac,” you call. “I’ll be okay for a little while. And I will call if anything happens, or I get worried or just want to talk. I promise.”

Deacon reluctantly agrees, gathering his things as he calls his team back and tells them he will meet them at the scene. As he leaves you, he feels like something is wrong, out of place, but maybe that’s just because he misses you after spending so much time together.

✯✯✯✯✯

Something scratches across the front door, and you’re immediately alert. It hasn’t been long enough for Deacon to return, so you rush to his room, but the front door slams against the wall before you can escape behind another locked door.

“An article about me?” Greener asks. “I’d be flattered if I didn’t know exactly what kind of woman you are.”

“Now, I’m the kind of woman that you can’t intimidate.”

“Intimidate?” Greener laughs as he cracks his neck. “We’re way past that, don’t you think?”

You step back as Greener lunges, glad you continued training after dropping out of the academy. You’re still a good fighter, and Greener underestimates you because you’re a woman. While Deacon deals with a tiring afternoon of saving hostages, you win a tiring fight.

Car doors close in the neighboring driveway, and an exhausted and injured Greener rushes out of the broken front door. You don’t want to call Deacon, not because you don’t trust him but because you know he will blame himself. Regardless, you dial his number and lean back against the wall.

“Hey, what happened?” Deacon answers.

“Uh, Greener broke in. I’m okay… mostly okay. We fought but he got scared off,” you answer softly.

Deacon hangs up, rushing home and patching you up. He covers your scrapes and bruises, apologizing as he goes.

“I will never put you in this situation again,” he promises as he secures the last bandage over your split knuckles.

“Stay by my side?” you ask, offering your less bruised hand.

Deacon takes it with a soft touch as he answers, “Through it all.”

✯✯✯✯✯

Deacon keeps his promise, staying by your side through the trial, the mixed backlash and praise over the article, and perhaps most surprisingly, your sudden fear of being alone again.

Standing by his door with your bags in tow, you can’t cross the threshold.

“You don’t have to go,” Deacon repeats. “Stay as long as you want. I’m by your side, remember? There’s nothing to worry about here. Other than me getting attached to you and clingier.”

You smile, glancing at the door before stepping closer to Deacon as he pulls you into a hug, and you wrap your arms around him before pressing your cheek against his shirt.

“I’m never leaving you again,” Deacon vows. “I lost you once, and after everything we went through to find each other again, what I put you through, I’m not losing you again.”