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lordprettyflackotara · 6 months

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Mr. Right || Colby Brock || Part two

smut, 18+, minors dni

a/n: colby’s new mustache has got to go😭 enjoy!

Colby wasn’t sure if you were going to show.

He sat anxiously on the end of the hotel bed, tapping his foot. To the left of him was a bucket of ice with a new bottle of champagne on top, one he bought just for you.

It was admittedly expensive, but he wanted to do anything and everything to impress you.

You were a goddess to him, a bite of forbidden fruit he was never meant to taste.

Yet your curves, your whimpers.

They invaded his mind like a plague.

He couldn’t stop thinking of you. All of the filthy things he wanted to do to you.

Colby realized as he pumped his cock to the fantasy of you that all he wanted was to make you feel good.

And tonight he had every intention of doing so.

Your knocking on the door snapped him out of his thoughts, the brunette rushing to greet you.

He opened the door, hardly having a moment to glance at you before you darted inside. Colby raised an eyebrow, leaning out of the door frame. He looked both ways, ensuring no one was around.

You were silently impressed that Colby had such a fine taste for hotel rooms, considering his taste in clothing didn’t depict wealth.

“I purposefully chose a floor with no cameras to put you at ease,” Colby mentioned, shutting and locking the door behind him. You set your purse aside, sliding off your heels. You kept a calm exterior on purpose, not wanting to seem too excited or nervous about the entire ordeal.

You were sure that you weren’t Colby’s only girl and you didn’t want to leave the impression you were too needy.

“Out of context that sounds like you’re a serial killer you know,” You tease sarcastically, unbuttoning your blouse.

Colby’s eyes focused on you, soaking in your figure. A charcoal pencil skirt hugged your hips and a white button up shirt concealed your breast. He watched as your small fingers undid the buttons. You appeared to be just as eager as he was, even if you tried harder to hide it. He almost wanted to question the business get up, since he had figured you were a trophy wife.

He decided to push the thought out of his mind, deciding he would ask you later.

“I’ve been thinking about you all week,” Colby purred, striding over to you. You blushed at his sweet words, shrugging your blouse off and discarding it onto the floor. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he towered over you, meeting his gaze. The energy in the room seemed to shift, your body becoming putty under his mere touch.

“You can do whatever you want to me, i’ll be good for you,” You whispered. Your words made Colby go borderline feral, his lips smashing into yours as his hands found your waist. He picked you up with ease, your legs wrapping around his waist out of instinct. He couldn’t get enough of your lips, your soft pink lips doing charity by dancing against his.

Fuck, you had no idea what you did to him.

His hands snaked down to your ass, readjusting you higher onto him. He lifted up your skirt, the fabric audibly ripping. You gasped and pulled away. “Colby! Those were calvin klein!” You whined, hitting his chest. In a swift motion he tossed you onto the bed, shoving your tattered skirt down your legs. “I’ll buy you a new one. Ten of them in every color if that’s what you want,” Colby panted. His boner was rubbing against the harsh fabric of his jeans, not making his feral thoughts subside any faster.

“But what I want right now, is for you to do as I say. Can you do that?” Colby asked. You nodded shyly, your face a visible light tint of pink. Colby grabbed your legs, dragging you to the end of the bed. He briefly glanced over at the bucket of champagne, forgetting it was there. A light bulb popped over his head, a devious smirk dancing across his legs. “Take off your bra and panties, let me see your body baby,” Colby told you.

You were so obedient it drove him insane, watching you scramble to obey his every command. Your panties and bra were discarded in seconds, Colby quickly taking note of the white lacey matching set you wore for him. He began to undo his tie, your curious eyes watching him closely. “Close your eyes for me,” He whispered, his voice deeper than usual. You nodded and did as instructed without question.

Something about Colby fascinated you. It wasn’t the lustful thoughts or the sinful fantasies.It was the simple fact that despite only having met a week ago, you trusted him entirely. It was as if he could read your mind. He paid close attention to your body and reactions, practically reading your mind. You couldn’t describe the feeling, the notion itself completely absurd.

But as Colby wrapped his tie around your eyes, blindfolding you, you knew these thoughts to be true.

“Lay back for me and stay still, can you do that?”

Colby reached into the bucket of champagne, pulling out an ice cube.

“Yes sir,”

You laid your back onto the soft comforter, spreading your legs.

Colby took a good five seconds to admire your body, before leaning forward. He brought the ice cube to your left nipple, the sensation causing you to jerk forward. “I thought I told you to stay still?” Colby asked mockingly. Your nipple hardened under the sensation of the ice cube, a whimper escaping your lips. “Sorry sir,” You mumbled. Colby switched the ice cube to your right nipple, popping your left breast into his mouth.

His mouth was warm, the sensation making you squirm beneath him as your other nipple hardened. You could feel the wetness growing between your thighs, your cheeks flushing a deeper pink as his tongue swirled around the bud. You were all hot and bothered over an ice cube.

The humiliation had fully crashed down over you as your hips bucked upwards, begging for friction. He released your breast with a pop, the cool air making you shiver. “Needy aren’t we?” Colby teased. He kissed down your stomach, dragging the ice cube after his strip of kisses. “Colby-” You groaned, throwing your head back. He hovered over your cunt, looking up at you.

“Hmm?”

“S-so c-cold,” You stuttered, goosebumps spreading across your skin.

Colby chuckled as he ran the ice cube down to your folds. You whimpered as he ran it up and down your thigh, before opening your folds and placing it on your clit. Your hips jolted forward, his other arm holding you in place. “You can take it, yeah? Wanna be good for me?” Colby asked. He studied your body, ensuring no signs of discomfort were visible.

“Wanna be good,” You babbled, your fingers raking through his hair. You pulled at his roots, the motion erupting a groan from his throat. He tossed the ice cube aside, licking a teasingly slow stripe up your cunt. You moaned loudly as his warm tongue clouded your mind, washing away the contrasting icy cold from moments before.

“You taste so good,” Colby praised, before diving into your cunt. He lapped at your folds like a starved men, determined to please you in the best way possible. Your back arched off of the bed as your thighs squeezed around his head. He brought two fingers to your entrance, slowly pushing them inside of you. Your walls spasmed around his digits, your body craving more than just his fingers.

“Colby, I want you,” You panted, vision still restricted by his tie. Colby smirked as he curled his fingers, pulling away from your cunt briefly. “Be patient, need you to cum on my fingers first,” He purred. He began to speed up his fingers, abusing your g spot as he pleased. He reconnected his lips with your clit, sucking at your sensitive bud.

You had no idea how intoxicating you were, your head thrown back and sinful noises escaping your lips. Your juices coated Colby’s chin and fingers, and he couldn’t care less. You could feel a familiar knot form in your stomach, one you didn’t want to form so soon. Colby made you feel so fucking good. It was beyond anything your husband had ever provided you, your body and slave to the state of euphoria he put you under.

Colby could sense you were about to cum, smirking as your walls tightened around his fingers. You felt your legs begin to tremble, your hips bucking upwards. You couldn’t even give your lover a warning, moaning his name as you came. Colby released your clit with ease, satisfied with seeing you come undone.

He removed himself from you, leaning forward and removing your blindfold. “Hi there,” He greeted teasingly, earning a smile from you. You grabbed his shirt, flipping him down onto the mattress. You straddled him, pulling him by his shirt towards you. “I need you, you fucking delinquent. You’re gonna give me what I want,” You growled. Your hands nimbly reached down to undo his belt and leather pants, shoving them down his legs.

Colby leaned back, cockily putting his hands behind his head. You raised your eyebrows as his cock laid flat against his stomach, looking up at his face. “What’s that face for?” You questioned. Colby shrugged, looking down at your dripping cunt. “Oh nothing, i’m just waiting for you to take what’s yours,” He replied.

You reached down and grabbed his cock, balancing yourself as you sank down lower. His shaft stretched you out much more than your husband, your thighs shaking as you moved your hips downwards. You threw your head back as you bottomed out, gripping onto Colby’s shirt as you adjusted to his size.

“Well would you look at that,” Colby muttered. You looked down, the outline of his cock visible through your stomach. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. “Is that safe?” You questioned, unsure of how to react. You had never been in this predicament, your husband no where near the size Colby was. The brunette chuckled.

“I guess what depends, does this feel good?”

He slowly lowered his hips, before pushing them back up into you. You groaned at the sensation, his cock rubbing against your g spot. “Fu-ck yes,” You answered. Colby grinned mischievously, leaning forward. “Lift yourself up for me, let me fuck you like the filthy slut you are,” He ordered. He traced your jawline with his thumb as you readjusted yourself on his knees.

In a swift motion he grabbed your face, forcing your lips to pucker out like a fish. “The fact you thought you could dominate me even for a second is cute, but don’t ever-” He began, rolling his hips into you slowly. He was going mockingly slow, ensuring you felt every single inch of his cock. “Ever, think you’re in control,” Colby snarled. The two of you locked eyes, your walls milking his shaft with every filthy word he spewed out.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Colby groaned, releasing your face. He hand slithered up to your throat, lightly applying pressure as he picked up the pace. You moaned loudly as he fucked you, the outline of his cock visible with every thrust he made. “Thats right, let everyone on this floor know who fucks you this good,” He growled, relishing in the sweet sounds of your uncontrollable moans.

His fingers tightened around your throat, your airway restricted as he provided you an addictive euphoria. “Colbs, fucking shit-” You babbled, unable to form coherent sentences. The nick name you spewed only made Colby pound into you harder, his thrust merciless. “You’re so pretty like this, you’re going to look even prettier full of my cum,” Colby groaned, testing the waters.

You grabbed his wrist, squeezing it for support as he abused your cunt as he pleased. “Please cum in me, I need it,” You begged. Your words were music to Colby’s ears, an irresistible smile dancing across his lips. He could feel your body tremble at the idea of being bred, the brunette feeling cocky. “Yeah? Want me to breed you? Make you mine?” He purred. You babbled words of agreement, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as he fucked you.

“Please, i’ll do anything,” You begged. Colby smirked as he released your throat. “Go ahead then, ride me. Make me cum and i’ll breed that tight little cunt of yours,” He ordered. His thrust had come to a sudden halt, the knot that was previously forming in your stomach beginning to subside. In a panicked motion you began to ride him, pawing at his chest for support as you bounced up and down shamelessly on his cock.

Colby took the opportunity to grab your ass, squeezing the tender flesh as he guided you. “Look at that, riding me like a bitch in heat. You really are my personal whore, aren’t you?” He asked mockingly, the two of you locking eyes. You nodded, grinding down on his cock. You could feel your orgasm approaching, your grip on Colby’s shirt tightening.

“Fuck yes, i’m all yours Colby,”

“Then cum for me so I can make you mine,”

You lowered your hips one last time, your thighs trembling as your senses went white with ecstasy. Your high only got better as you felt Colby cum inside of you, coating your inner walls. His seed was warm as it filled your cunt, Colby’s cock still buried inside of you. The brunette slowly gripped your waist, guiding you off of his cock gently. You could feel his cum drip down your thighs as you sat on your knees, panting as you tried to catch some air.

Colby couldn’t help but admire you. Your hair was a mess, your lips raw and puffy. Your cunt was dripping his cum, your nipples still perky. You were beautiful. He leaned forward, lightly tracing your jawline with his thumb.

“Let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

You were dazed as Colby carried you over to the bathroom, hardly registered him sitting you down in the bathtub. It was larger than you expected, the warm water beginning to puddle at the bottom. You brushed your hair out of your face, attempting to gain some decency.

“So,”

“So?”

“Does this delinquent know how to fuck or what?” Colby asked teasingly. You rolled your eyes, giving him the middle finger. The tub began to fill quickly, Colby reaching over and pouring a flower scented bubble bath into the faucet. He began to undo his shirt, heading towards the door. “Where do you think you’re going?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. Colby turned around a bit more sheepishly than he would’ve liked.

“I don’t know, thought you’d want space,”

His words stung, a reminder of the fact your dynamic was nothing more than a sex filled affair. You brushed off the stinging, deciding you wanted him to be near you. Even if that meant shoving aside your ego.

“Shut up and get in the tub,”

You had never had intimate moments like this with your husband. You laid against Colby’s chest, your shoulders relaxed as he washed your hair from behind you. He worshipped you, his fingers currently occupied by scrubbing and massaging your scalp. He was so gentle with you, a dramatic contrast from the way he was moments ago.

You couldn’t believe you had put your ego aside enough to be in this position, your eyes fluttering shut as Colby bathed you. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder, soaking in the privilege of your presence. You both had lost track of time in that bath tub, both of you rambling on about your drastically different lives.

Colby, whose last name turned out to be Brock, had a bit of a social media following. You didn’t realize Youtube was such a popular social media platform, your time mostly spent on facebook or instagram. You had a responsibility to support your husband to the public eye, one that couldn’t be ignored by watching internet videos. He told you all about Sam Golbach, a blonde headed friend of his who you learned he’d rather die without.

You couldn’t help yourself, you began rambling on about your own life. The yoga classes, how often you cooked, your current beef with your maids. You liked that Colby listened intently, asking questions and paying attention. You felt like the center of the universe, droning on about your life and useless husband. Time seized to exist, until it came to a halt.

Your eyes opened to see the sun rising over the horizon, the opened bathroom revealing the orange and pink skies. “Fuck, I have to go soon,” You muttered. Your husband would be waking up in an hour or so, undoubtedly going to question your absence. Colby noticed the hint of sadness in your voice as he washed the suds out of your hair.

“Let me finish washing your hair, okay?”

“Okay,”

You would take any excuse to be around the delinquent you couldn’t resist.

#sam and colby #sam and colby smut #sam golbach #colby brock #colby brock x reader #colby brock x y/n #colby brock x you #sam golbach smut #sam golbach x colby brock #sam golbach x reader

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verysium · 9 months

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some hcs abt the bllk boys doing modeling shoots as pro-players? (like what they’d model for and the ways they captivate their audiences and stuff)? ty and love ur works btw 💞💞🫡

idk why but this ask made my brain freeze up and refuse to write anything for 3 days, so apologies if this is late anon:

sae would be so done. i mean....he walked out on a literal interview, so what makes you think he won't walk out on a photoshoot? he probably hates the very idea of plastering his face all over billboards and magazines. but his manager said that he was in desperate need of good publicity, especially after that stunt he pulled with the last commercial endorsement. if sae was forced to model though, he'd definitely be as stiff as a board. no facial expressions whatsoever and always sticks to one pose. oftentimes, this involves him facing the wall and only showing half his face. if the photographer wants a full frontal, he's going to have to deal with sae's "i don't want to be here and i'm being held hostage" face. even if sae does try smiling, it looks more like a grimace. the only redeeming quality here is that he is good-looking. if you look at the official art, he doesn't even have to try to get all of you drooling over him. that face card does not decline. like ever. so the shoots usually wrap up pretty quickly because out of the 100 images taken, at least half are going to be usable. he's photogenic from any angle.

kaiser would strike a pose for everything, even his own mugshot. i picture him as that one johnny depp advertisement for dior sauvage. blue lighting. a silk blouse with the top button open to show off a sliver of his sculpted chest. his hair is slicked back with gel, and his knuckles are decorated with silver rings. the tattoo just pulls everything together. if not a perfume commercial, then i think he'd model for adidas or some other german brand (maybe even a beer company if he's old enough). i don't think he has any trouble with the actual modeling part of process. he knows how to flaunt himself. the only issue is that kaiser is a lazy perfectionist. he would show up late to the shoots and then stays even later just looking through the shots and choosing which ones to include. puts a lot of time and effort into things like this. after all, his image and his brand are important to him.

shidou would be sponsored by an energy drink brand. like red bull or monster. if not that, then axe body spray lol. as for modeling, i feel like he wouldn't be able to sit still. probably pulls out crazy poses that piss the photographers off on purpose. it always cracks me up how one of his first appearances in the manga is him being muzzled and restrained in a straitjacket inside blue lock's time-out zone. he's so chaotic. you would have to hold him down and shove the camera into his face to actually get a good shot. i also picture him wearing lots of black leather, maybe even silver jewelry (eg. studs, piercings). and of course, you can't forget the hot pink accents.

isagi would model for family-friendly brands. if not that, then just japanese brands in general. i imagine him doing skincare commercials for shiseido or maybe even participating in a campaign for UNIQLO. as for modeling, he would be awkward at first but then gradually get the hang of it. always thanks the team afterwards and is very mindful of the photographer's suggestions. everyone says he is a pleasure to work with.

rin would model for luxury watch brands like TAG heuer or IWC. maybe when he grows older and further develops his career, he might even become an ambassador for louis vuitton or bulgari. overall, his advertisements are very elegant and professional. only endorses high quality products. never looks at the shots afterwards because he hates looking at his own face. gets somewhat embarrassed when his mama points out his billboards and makes clippings of his magazine covers. he absolutely flipped when a brand suggested that he do a collaboration with his brother. so when this collaboration actually did take place, it was like a repeat of the whole messi-ronaldo photoshoot. they didn't actually meet on set. they were just photoshopped together into the same frame.

barou models for calvin klein. lots of denim and shirtless photos. all of the staff got nosebleeds, and his fanbase went wild when the issue was finally released. there's this one image his fans worship religiously where he's posing in his boxers and there's a clear shot of his abs and happy trail. (he's so hot wtf) there's also another shot that wasn't used cus a million people would've been deceased. he's standing there with his thumbs in the belt loops of his jeans and wearing nothing underneath his denim jacket. his hair is also down, and his skin is all sun-kissed and golden.

reo models streetwear, and this is canon because he has the drip. honestly, his duality needs to be studied because he can go from high class gentleman to bad boy who wears chains and knuckle rings. he'd try all different sorts of styles, and he'd look good doing it. out of all the bllk boys, i feel like reo gets the most sponsorship deals because of his versatility. he does the styling, hair, makeup, posing, editing, etc. honestly, they need to hire him as a creative director already. nagi would tag along behind the scenes, but he'd end up scrolling on his phone the entire day.

#asks #blue lock #blue lock imagines #blue lock fluff #sae itoshi #michael kaiser #shidou ryusei #isagi yoichi #rin itoshi #barou shouei #reo mikage #nagi seishiro #bllk #bllk headcanons

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blueraineshadows · 1 year

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So.....Leander smut? I don't have a creative prompt. Maybe a little game of spin the bottle. Maybe a heated match of summoner's court. I think he'd be pretty eager to please MC, though.

Bring on the Leander smut.... 😉🔥

Thank you for your request 🙏 💜

It's Not A Date

Leander Prewett x F!MC - NSFW 🔞 🌶

Long fic, smut, oral sex, virginity loss

The sun was warm today, the first real summery weather up in the Highlands, and MC had long since discarded her robe and jumper. She brushed her hair back from her face and aimed at her ball on the Summoners Court board. She was under pressure to nail this turn. She needed the points. If she lost, then she owed Leander a butterbeer.

Her eyes flicked towards her opponent as he stood casually to one side, he too had discarded his robe and jumper, his shirt sleeves were rolled to his elbows and his tie was hanging loose. It was unusual for Leander to look so casual. Usually, he was smart, neat, a little too controlled even. At the moment he looked almost dishevelled, and MC realised that she kept staring.

Had his shoulders always been that broad? And his hands...long fingered, graceful, as they held his wand. She'd never really paid much attention before, but today, she found herself oddly distracted. It showed. She was losing, and she hated to lose!

Clearing her throat and dismissing her thoughts, she concentrated on her aim. She had taken Leander up on his offer of making this game more interesting, she had accepted the bet thinking she had it nailed. Now, she wasn't so sure.

"Accio!" She urged her ball into a roll, it rumbled down the board and as she released the spell, she immediately hunkered down, head in her hands. She didn't even need to look as the ball headed right for her, rolling off the edge with a thump onto the grass and stopping right in front of her.

She heard Leander's chuckle and shook her head. His booted feet appeared within her sight and she looked up, a grim smile of defeat on her face. He was holding out a hand towards her, long graceful fingers slightly splayed. She stared at his hand for a moment and noticed a thin white scar near his thumb. She wondered how he had come by it. She realised that despite being his class mate for almost three years, she knew very little about him.

"I reckon you lost this game on purpose," he said. He couldn't hide the delight from his face at his win. "It's almost as though you wanted to buy me a beer. I'd call that a double win."

She sighed and took his hand, her small one lost in his grip as he pulled her up to her feet. "Well played, Prewett," she said. She poked him in the chest. "And I never lose on purpose. When do you want to claim your debt? Tonight?"

He smiled and nodded. "It's a date."

"Not a date," she said, grinning as she jabbed her wand towards him. She bent to collect her discarded robe. "It's a debt owed."

"Whatever you say, MC," he chuckled. "I'm still calling it a date."

....*....

"I can't believe you're going on a date with Prewett." Imelda looked positively repulsed. "Why?"

MC groaned and threw her head back in frustration. "It's not a bloody date! How many times?!"

Imelda folded her arms and leant against her bed post, one eyebrow cocked, skeptical. She watched as MC pulled another blouse from her chest and immediately discarded it. "You're sure making a meal out of choosing an outfit for this non-date," she said. "Anyone would think you wanted to look pretty for him."

MC ignored her, and she ignored the way her cheeks were growing hot at those words. It wasn't a date. It really wasn't. But none of these blouses looked good enough. She screwed up a perfectly good one and threw it back into her trunk with a sigh. She looked over at her smirking friend. "Help me," she sighed.

"I thought you'd never ask," Imelda said.

....*....

Leander paced along the path of the gardens near the north gate exit. He was clicking his fingers and then slapping his hand against a clenched fist, over and over, a nervous habit. He had teased MC about this being a date, which it wasn't, but he sure felt like it was one. He was so bloody nervous!

When he had made the bet about her buying him a drink, he had fully expected her to tell him to do one, but she had agreed, and with a smile no less. Just lately, she had been around him a lot more, they had actually been talking. He rather liked it, he liked her.

He blew air through his lips and told himself for the millionth time, don't fuck this up, don't be an idiot. Garreth had slapped him on the back and told him to just be himself. That was alright for him to say, Garreth had a knack for making MC laugh. She liked Garreth. He wasn't so sure she even liked him, and couldn't believe this was actually happening. He stopped pacing. Shit, what if she never showed?

Footsteps on the path made him turn, his hands stilling immediately, the palms turning clammy in an instant. He swallowed. Fuck, she was so pretty! Her smile was bright as she headed for him, her step light, almost excited.

Her hair was loose and soft about her face, and she wore a navy blue blouse, the collar open a little. Surprisingly, she wasn't wearing a skirt. Instead she wore dark, tight fitting trousers that hugged her hips. He couldn't help but stare at her curves, soft, sexy...gods this didn't help with his nerves. Eyes on her face, idiot!

"Hi, are you ready?" She asked.

He nodded. "Definitely," he said. "You look lovely, by the way."

A blush swept over her cheeks. "Thank you, that's very sweet of you to say."

Remembering his manners, and trying hard not to stare, he offered her his arm. "I know this isn't a proper date, but what kind of gentleman would I be if I didn't escort you properly. Shall we?"

She immediately slipped her arm through his, and he couldn't help but look down at their linked limbs, still a little amazed that this was real.

....*....

So far, the chat had been about classes, exams, and their mutual friends. Easy, simple. He was nailing this. When she had paid for their drinks she winked at him, her smile making his stomach feel all fluttery and weird. "Consider the debt paid," she said.

"You're not going to turn around and run out the door now, are you?" He asked.

She huffed a laugh. "Don't be daft, of course not. Shall we get a table?"

They found a table and settled into seats, his knee grazed against hers and she glanced down. He muttered an apology, cursing his long limbs.

"Just how tall are you?" She asked.

"About six foot," he said. "I take after my dad. Mum is rather small in comparison. When I was tall enough, I started to pat her on the head and call her cute. She hates it!" He chuckled. "She isn't above giving me a slap on the arm for it either, but I still get away with it the odd time."

MC smiled, and there was something almost wistful about it. "Do you have any siblings?"

"An older brother, George, he is married now. Muriel, my sister, is a 3rd year. She is a right little scamp," he smiled, fondly. "She's a Gryffindor as well."

"I wonder what they would say about you sitting here with a Slytherin," she said. She picked up her drink. "You're socialising with the enemy."

"Keep your enemies close and all that." He gave her a cheeky wink. MC swallowed her beer quickly, her eyes darting away from his. The beer left a frothy line on her top lip, he stared, the unbidden thought of sucking it clean entered his head. She had very kissable lips.

"Erm, you've got..." Leander waved a finger in the direction of her mouth, before pointing at his own, hating how flustered and stupid he sounded. "Foam on your...on your lip."

"Oh," she said. She put her fingers to her mouth, wiping away the beer froth. She then slid her fingers into her mouth and sucked away the froth she had gathered. Leander stared, lips parted as she did so. Why was that so fucking sexy?

He felt heat flooding everywhere, it felt like a complete body flush and the collar of his shirt felt quite restricted all of a sudden. His cheeks were burning. She gave him a little smile that, if he wasn't mistaken, was rather cheeky, flirty. He had the urge to start clicking his fingers again, nerves creeping back in.

"So, tell me about yourself, what do you like to do in your spare time?" She asked. "I feel like I hardly know you."

And so they fell into easy chatter again, and he found himself opening up a little, telling her stories about his family, and she actually laughed at his jokes.

After their third butterbeer, Leander came back with two tankards of a different drink.

"What is that?" MC asked, giving it a sniff.

"Some kind of summer punch," he said. "Sirona called it a cocktail."

MC took a sip and ran her tongue over her lip. She hummed in appreciation. "Oh, that's good."

"I thought it was worth a try. I ordered some shots of firewhiskey too."

MC tilted her head, playfully. "You're not trying to get me drunk, are you?"

"Maybe," he grinned. "Please tell me you're not a messy drunk. Will I end up carrying you back to the castle?"

She leant in to give his upper arm a squeeze, and he immediately tensed, not to impress, but because she had willingly touched him. "I reckon you could handle it."

He looked at where her hand had touched. His smirk was a little naughty, he couldnt help himself, she was riling him up. "Feeling touchy are we?"

She giggled and leant to whisper to him. "Maybe I'm a flirty drunk."

He looked at her, his heart pounding. "Well, tonight just got very interesting."

She held a finger up in front of him, adopting a serious face. "Not a date, remember?"

"How could I forget when I have you to remind of it," he said. He focused on her finger and took hold of her hand. He turned it over, his thumb grazing her skin. He just had to touch her, his fingers ached for it. "You have rather small hands."

"That's only because yours are big," she said. She put their palms together. "See?"

He studied their hands, sliding his palm against hers a little before linking his fingers through hers. "I like your hands," he said, softly. He wasnt lying. He did like them. "Cute, but deadly."

If someone had told him he would be sitting here, rather tipsy, and holding hands with MC, he would never have believed it. But here she was, holding his hand, smiling.

She smoothed her thumb over his skin and he resisted the urge to moan at that simple touch. She had him all needy and he bit his lip, worried he was going to say something stupid and then she would let go.

"How did you get this?"

"Oh, that," he groaned, looking down at the scar on his thumb. "A rather unfortunate incident with a chomping cabbage. Nurse Blainey had to reattach my thumb."

MC slapped her other hand over her mouth as a giggle burst out. "I'm so sorry, that's not at all funny."

"Not at the time, no," he said, smiling. "What about you? Any interesting scars?"

"Actually, loads," she said. "I got most of them in 5th year. I've got Sebastian to thank for this one..."

His eyes widened as she tugged her blouse from her waistband at the side and lifted the material to show off the rather spectacular mark that adorned her waist. The flesh was puckered white in swirls and jagged bolts, but around it, her skin was creamy and smooth. Fuck, he wanted to touch her.

He leant down to inspect the swirl of the scar, it was strangely beautiful. "Sallow did that?"

"Not on purpose," she said. "He was so very sorry, poor guy. We were doing a bit of duelling practise, fucking around, like you do. He caught me with a Confringo spell."

His eyes met hers, envy clenching his stomach. Fucking Sallow, always having to be the best at everything, duelling, spells, flirting. Sallow always had a line of girls waiting to speak to him, and since MC had arrived at Hogwarts, she had been a permanent fixture at his side. Even wounding her to this extent hadn't put her off him.

It made him want to clench his fists.

"You and him did a fair bit of fucking around if the rumours are to be believed." He hated how bitter he sounded, his envy a writhing thing.

MC gave him a secretive smile. "I don't kiss and tell, Leander."

"So, are you still fucking around with him?" Maybe he didn't want to know, the thought of her and Sallow...No, he needed to know. Was it even worth his time trying to flirt with her?

She leant in a little closer, her face inches from his. He could smell her perfume, see the detail in her eyes. He licked his lips. Her voice was low, teasing. "Why, are you jealous?"

Insanely jealous. It made the truth spill from his lips. "I think you are more than aware that I fancy you, MC," he said. "You're very beautiful."

Her gaze dropped to his mouth, something hazy and dangerous flickered in her gaze. She shifted in her seat, fidgeting, and her teeth grazed against her lower lip. Fucking hell, he was getting turned on, he felt his cock twitch in his pants. The danger of getting a boner was very real right now.

Then she sat back in her chair, grabbing her drink and downing the contents. The moment was gone. He let out a breath he hadn't realised he had been holding and twirled his drink on the table top, trying to think about anything else to distract himself from her full lower lip.

"What about you?" She blurted, breaking the stretch of quiet between them. "Are you seeing anyone?"

He shook his head. "Nope, no-one."

"Good," she said. His eyes widened. She blushed. "I mean, its good to keep your options open."

Confused, he studied her for a moment. "Are you alright?"

She put a hand to her head. "Excuse me a moment, I need the little witches room."

He watched her go as she went to the bathrooms, those tight trousers of hers hugging her backside in ways that made his groin ache. He rubbed his face with his hands. He didn't have a clue what was going on here.

Maybe he needed to cool off, take a step back. How many times had he blown it with a girl? Too many times, an embarrassing amount. He always put his foot in it somehow, and he didn't want to do that with her. She was alright, for a Slytherin.

....*....

Her reflection gazed back at her in the bathroom mirror. She wasn't even that drunk. It wasn't the alcohol making her hot and flustered, it was him! Fucking Leander Prewett, with his broad shoulders, and his hands...mmm fuck, she was obsessed with those hands! She pressed her own hand to her lower abdomen, a burning sensation building as she imagined the things he could do with those long fingers.

Merlin, she was hot, too damn hot. She washed her hands and took a deep breath. Time to go back and rejoin him. She needed to calm the fuck down.

He was sitting waiting, two shots of firewhiskey on the table. She eyed them and he grinned. "I figured we could have one more for the road."

"Ready to leave?" She asked. "Was it something I said?"

"It's almost closing time," he replied.

She glanced around the bar surprised, had they been here that long? The customers had certainly thinned out and Sirona had put chairs up on the tables at the far end.

"Fair enough," she shrugged. She picked up her shot and threw it back, relishing the burn as it went down. She banged the glass back into the table and leant towards him. "Your turn."

His gaze never left hers as he did the same. She watched his throat work as the whiskey went down, heat stirring within her. She almost needed to clench her thighs, she was that horny.

They left the pub and began to walk, the night cool, but not cold. Then, MC suddenly stopped. He had been just behind her and he collided with her shoulder. "Oops, sorry...everything alright?"

Her heart pounded. She fucking wanted him! It was eating her up, making her pulse flutter, she spun to look up at him, her breaths quickening.

How had this happened? She realised she didn't care. She grabbed the front of his jumper and dragged him down towards her mouth. She heard his swift intake of breath before she pressed a smacker of a kiss on his lips. He froze, clearly shocked.

She chuckled and flicked her tongue against his lips playfully. "Mmm, want me to do that again?"

His stuttered gasps were fuel to her fire. "Yes, please."

She wanted to jump his bones and kiss the fuck out of him, but there was something very sexy about his nervousness, it was cute, submissive, and it unfurled the mischievous tease in her.

She caught his bottom lip with her teeth, oh so gently, and tugged, oh so carefully. His little whimper was deeply satisfying. Her lips curved into a slow smile. "Oh, I'm going to enjoy this," she whispered.

"Y...you are?"

MC moaned and kissed him again, her hands wrapping up behind his neck. This time he responded, his hands gently touching her waist as a moan of his own sounded in his throat. It was a torture to keep her kisses tame, but she did. She teased the fuck out of his lips, loving every desperate little noise he made.

She smirked and put her hands over his, sliding them downwards until he was holding her arse. She could hear his desperate pants for breath, the stunned look on his face so adorable and sweet. "Do I feel good?" She asked.

His fingers carefully squeezed and he groaned. "Fuck, yes..."

"Want more?" She nipped at his bottom lip again. He nodded, quickly, going in for another kiss.

She giggled and wriggled free of his grip.

"What...MC?" He frowned.

She crooked her finger at him, her eyes teasing. "If you want more, you're going to have to catch me."

Her stared at her, lips parted, eyes wild. She slowly licked her lips, backing up from him. Then she blew him a kiss. "Come get me..."

She turned and ran.

....*....

His mind was actually spinning. When she had kissed him, he had frozen in utter shock. MC, Hero of Hogwarts, one of the best damn duelists in the school, fucking beautiful beyond belief, and she was kissing him.

As she taunted him to come and catch her, her eyes promising more, and oh gods he wanted more, he realised he would literally do anything that she wanted. He was in the palm of her hand.

And she was getting away from him. Run, you idiot! He took off after her, the excitement and adrenaline a heady mix. He could hear her giggles, the tap of her feet on the cobbled path. He caught a glimpse of her disappearing around a corner and sped up.

She was waiting for him. She grabbed a hold of him, shoving him up against the wall, and she was bloody strong. "Fuck!" He gasped. And then she was pressing those delicious curves against him, her mouth on his neck. His eyes rolled back, moans spilling from his lips as she sucked at him. "Oh, gods...fuck!"

All of his blood rushed to his cock, desire making him burn, all thoughts wiped clean except for her and what she was doing to him. She bit his earlobe with sharp little teeth, he hissed, but then she licked it all better. Gods.

"Still want more?" She whispered. Her breath hot against his ear.

He gripped her hips and pulled her real close, she moaned and rolled against him. A gasp escaped her lips and she looked down. "Fucking hell, Leander," she groaned. "It's not just your hands that are big!"

Colour bloomed across his cheeks and he was grateful it was night, even his neck was burning. He couldn't stop the whimpers as she began to grind against him, his cock twitching and fit to burst. He closed his eyes, unable to watch her, knowing that if this continued for much longer he was going to blow his load. Cold showers, history of magic, anything, just don't fuck this up!

Then she was pulling away, giggling, tugging playfully at his jumper. "Now, now, Leander, the fun isn't over yet. I'm just getting started," she said. "That was a freebie, this time you have to catch me."

Fuck! She was running again. He groaned, breathless with want, she was actually going to kill him!

She was fast, and nimble, for such a little thing. Her hair spun out around her as she darted around corners, those trousers hugging her curves distracting him as he tried to make a grab for her. Twice, his fingers brushed against her, but she was slippery, giggling and teasing as she danced out of his grip.

They crossed the river and ran down the path before she disappeared into the graveyard. He came to a stop at the top of the steps, puffing, scanning the graves, there was no sign of her. He frowned. "MC?"

A low hung mist was gathered in the corners, he stepped slowly along the path, listening out for her. This place was bloody creepy at night, he shivered and tried calling for her again.

He felt a tap on his shoulder and bit back a scream, he flinched and spun, drawing his wand on instinct. She gasped, her smile pure wickedness. "Oh, Leander," she said, teasingly. She pushed a finger lightly against the tip of his wand. "Is this you saying you wanna play rough?"

Fucking hell. He actually gulped. MC slowly pushed his wand down and out of the way before stepping up close to him. He was rooted to the spot, unable to do anything but watch as she trailed a hand over his chest, and then down.

His lungs had already been working hard from the running, and now, as her fingers teased a trail along the hem of his jumper, he thought he might get dizzy from how breathless he was. Then she slid a hand up underneath, tugging out his shirt, cool fingers grazing up over his abs.

She swept the palm of her hand over him, making him tremble. "Put your wand away, Prewett," she whispered.

He obeyed, immediately. She smiled. "Kiss me."

He was getting desperately close to losing his mind. He claimed her mouth, hungry for her, he had earned it. She parted her lips and allowed him access, moaning into his mouth. Gods, she sounded so damn sexy. He slid his hands into her hair, loving the silky softness of her tresses. He wrapped his fingers into it, holding her head at the perfect angle to kiss her deeply.

When she pulled back from him, he held her by her hair, determined to not let go. "Don't you dare fucking run again," he said.

She chuckled. "Oh, I'm not going anywhere," she said. "Not until I get what I want."

He panted, staring at the way her eyes glittered in the dark, more turned on than he had ever been in his life. "And, what do you want?"

"I want this brave Gryffindor to come play in the dark with me," she said. She tugged at his waistband and he grit his teeth, cock aching. She leant in to lick his throat. "Come play with the enemy."

"In a graveyard?" Who was he kidding? He'd do it anywhere she asked him at this point.

She grinned, finger tips drawing circles on the sensitive skin of his waist. She started to back up, taking him with her. They left the path, her fingers making quick work of his trouser fastenings. In a deeply shadowed corner, he found himself pressed up against the wall of a mausoleum.

Her kisses were slower, her tongue swirling seductively against his. He was just melting, utterly in her hands, moaning in bliss as she slid a hand into the opening of his trousers. He forgot about the graves, couldn't give a fuck if they were seen by a late night visitor, because she was wrapping those deadly little hands around his cock and stroking.

He shuddered, drowning in the feel of each rub. "Fuck, yes," he whispered. He rolled his hips, pushing his cock harder against her touch. It felt so good. He whimpered when she let go, but she was tugging his jumper up, tossing it aside so she could work on his shirt buttons.

His hands were in her hair again, sighing softly as she kissed his chest, her tongue swirling over a nipple. She went lower, and he began to twitch with anticipation as she got down on her knees.

Now that was a fucking priceless sight.

When her hot, wet mouth slid around his cock, he thought he could die right there and then. Join those in the graves and be the happiest bastard in the world. His moans grew louder, his hips flexing as she sucked and licked, her hand sliding to cup his balls. "Fucking hell...I'm gonna...mmm. Bloody hell, MC."

She sped up, he gave a cry, his head falling back against the stone. He was seeing fucking stars. She took him deep, so deep he could feel her throat constricting around his head. And still she fucked him. His fingers gripped her hair, he didn't want to hurt her, but by fuck, he was losing it.

He groaned, deep and desperate as he came, his cock pulsing madly as he unloaded into her throat. He felt the lick and slide of her tongue, his fingers releasing his hold on her hair as he slumped against the stone wall.

She stood, smiling wiping at her mouth. "Have I been a good girl?" She asked.

He moaned. "Yes, the fucking best."

She wrapped her arms about his waist, her lips gentle as she pressed a kiss to his chest. She ran the tip of her nose upwards, kissing his collar bone. "I'm not finished with you yet though, Prewett," she said. "Still up for a bit more?"

She looked up at him, utterly beautiful. How the fuck had he managed to be in this position? Honestly, he was never this lucky. He was always second best. Tonight, somehow, he was winning, and there was no way he wanted it to stop.

"What did you have in mind?"

....*....

MC moaned, head back, Leander's mouth on her neck. Her blouse was open, marks of passion littered over her breasts and chest. One of her legs was free, the other had her trousers and knickers pooled at the ankle. And, she had been right about Leander's fingers. She bit her lower lip, grinding against his hand as he rubbed and fucked her.

He had wanted to please, asking her what she wanted, and fuck, he was delivering. She was so fucking wet, the edge of her release quivering ever closer.

Panting and writhing she fisted her hand into his hair as his mouth tortured a nipple, the peak hard and sensitive against his tongue. "I love that tongue," she sighed. "What else can you do with it?"

Then he was on his knees, her bare leg over his shoulder. She looked down, eyebrow raised. Fuck, her leg looked pretty good slung over him like that, his face buried in her folds. A deep moan left her as his tongue swirled and flicked. "Oh, yes...Leander..."

She began to tremble, biting back the need to cry out loudly as she came. Leander gripped her bucking hips tightly, his fingers digging into the soft flesh.

He stood up, hastily wiping his mouth. "Gods, let me fuck you," he said. His hands smoothed up from her hips, his eyes glazed as he cupped her breasts. "You're fucking amazing."

She smiled. Oh, she would absolutely let him. She'd already had him in her mouth, and the size of him had her eager for more.

He kissed her, deep, slow, and she felt the nudge of his arousal. She wrapped her hand around it, pumping, soaking up his little groans. He moved closer, fumbling a little as he tried to hold her steady and line up against her.

They wobbled, almost losing balance, and she giggled, clutching on to him. A thought struck her and she put her hand to his face. "Leander, look at me," she asked, softly. He did. "You have done this before, right?"

He hesitated, a conflicted expression on his face. She didn't want him to put a brave face on it and lie. No matter how much she had teased and played with him, she didn't want to hurt him.

"Tell me the truth," she said gently. "First time is a big deal, I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

He let out a quick breath and shook his head. "Believe me, you are fucking brilliant, MC," he said. "As first times go, this is hot!"

She kissed him, softly. She moved to press kisses along his jaw, gentle, moving up to his ear. "Sit down," she whispered. "I'm going to sit on your lap."

Sitting with his back to the mausoleum wall, MC straddled Leander. Her approach was different now, but she was still aching for him, turned on at the thought that she was his first. Grateful for her experience, she took her time, taking his hands to show him as she lined him up and eased herself on to him.

She moaned at the stretch, easing him slowly with gentle thrusts. It was tight, really fucking tight, and she actually felt it sting a little.

Leander was gasping, gripping her hips now, staring at down at where they were joined. "Oh my...fucking hell...I...gods..."

She rolled her hips, her walls relaxing around him, taking him really well now. She risked going a little faster, her hands going to his broad shoulders.

"Does it...mmmph.....fuck....does it...feel good?" He asked. "This isn't going to take long. Gods...amazing!"

She took his face in her hands, kissing him, fucking him, letting him vent his passion into her mouth. "Its okay," she whispered against his lips. "Trust me, it feels good. Come for me, fill me up, Leander. I want to feel it, please. Come for me."

He groaned, and then grabbed her hips tightly, stopping her. "Let me," he said, tightly. "I want to do it."

They rolled over into the grass, MC's open blouse rucked up behind her, her hair splayed out. She opened her legs wide for him, he reentered her himself, moaning as he pushed in deep. She arched her back, wincing as he hit her limit.

He began to thrust, hard. She threw her hand out, clutching at clumps of grass as he absolutely fucking railed her. She couldn't stop the cry that came from her mouth. She was shocked at his intensity, the sheer strength of him, corded muscle in his neck and arms standing out in the distant glow of Hogsmeade's lights.

MC gritted her teeth and took it, lifting her hips to meet him, an intense pressure building rapidly deep inside her. His cock was rubbing against everything, her mind beginning to spin.

A shocked gasp left her lips, her nails dug viciously into the skin of his back. "Oh, fuck!" She gritted her teeth and clenched hard around him, her climax a pulsing, hot throb as he pounded into her. His face was tight as he found his own release, his cock pulsing thickly inside her.

They both collapsed into a sweaty, breathless heap in the grass. She smoothed his ruffled hair back from his face, just staring at him. "Wow," she puffed.

He pressed a quick kiss to her forehead. "Best fucking date, ever," he said.

She grabbed his chin. "Oi, Gryffindor, it wasn't a date."

He grinned and took her hand in his, smoothing his thumb over her skin, pressing kisses to the tips of her fingers. "Don't worry, next time it will be."

"Next time?" She quirked an eyebrow. "Don't count on me losing any more bets with you, Prewett."

"All bets are off," he said. "Next time, I'm taking you out on a proper date, and we are absolutely ending up with you in my bed. Even if I have to chase you around the whole fucking castle to earn it."

She giggled and linked her fingers with his. "I haven't scared you off then, dragging you into a graveyard and taking advantage of you like this. How very Slytherin of me."

"Quite the opposite, actually," he said. He leant his forehead against hers. "I think I fancy you even more than I did this afternoon."

She flexed her fingers against his, bringing their linked hands to her mouth to kiss them. "You know what? Me too."

This one is for all those who wanted a little more Leander on their feed. Thanks for reading! Part Two is HERE

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #mc x leander prewett #leander Prewett smut

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koshkamartell · 1 year

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No One But Me

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chapter warnings: Joel has a panic attack, degrading language, descriptions of injuries, possessiveJoel!, unhinged!Joel.

You stared at the drain, watching the swirls of water and soap suds circle around its rim before disappearing down into darkness. You stood under the shower head and let the warm water cascade over your back. It was soothing, comforting. Until the water hit the throbbing and raw skin of your ass and your wrists.

You bit your lip and grimaced in pain. You had to endure it if you wanted to be clean, to wash away the physical evidence of the shame and degradation of what Joel forced upon you. Using a washcloth you gingerly wiped away the cum that had dried on your backside. You had not been brave enough to assess the damage in the mirror just yet, but when you grazed your fingertips over the area you had an idea of just how bad it was.

Your body felt so weak, so tired. When you were finished washing away Joel's cum you moved the washcloth down to your vulva. You whimpered as you carefully cleaned yourself, the minute tears at the entrance of your vagina stinging. Your walls ached.

When you were done you leaned your forehead against the tiled wall with your eyes closed. You were sure you could fall asleep standing where you were - and you probably would - if not for the shower gradually turning more and more cold. You turned off the taps and stepped out of the shower to dry yourself with a towel, mindful of the angry raised welts on the cheeks of your ass.

Instead of dressing into a new set of pyjamas, you slipped naked into your bed and under the blanket. You positioned yourself on your side so that nothing was touching your back, scared to aggravate your injuries. You pulled your pillow into your stomach and curled up like a ball around it and cried. Eventually you succumbed to the fatigue and fell into a heavy sleep.

••••••

The following morning you somehow managed to wake up on time, get dressed, eat an apple for breakfast, and then arrive for your teaching lesson five minutes early. You appeared fresh faced and energetic, but inwardly you felt as though you were close to dissociating, teetering between numbness and hysteria.

In the classroom you avoided sitting down. You stood for the whole lesson as you taught the children about the lifecycles of insects, utilising the chalkboard and the book Maude had found you at the library. And even though the cuffs of your blouse were rubbing against your hidden wrists and irritating the skin there, you tried hard to focus on the lesson and be present, to adopt the calm, nurturing persona that the children knew you by. It wouldn't be fair to them if you cracked now, if you showed them a chink in the amour, not when they trusted you and loved you as their caretaker and teacher. This job gave you a purpose and sense of stability and you were adamant not to let Joel ruin that for you now.

When it was time for lunch and the school bell rang in the corridor, the children all scrambled out of the classroom to go eat their lunches and play outside. As soon as you were alone in the room you let out a heavy sigh of relief, grateful for the opportunity to unmask.

You tried to sit down in the chair at your desk, gingerly positioning yourself on the edge, half off the seat. You hissed at the dull pain thrumming in the meat of your ass and gripped onto the desk for support. Fuck, you wouldn't be surprised if you were bleeding right now.

You hesitantly leaned forward to rest your elbows on the desk, then cradled your head in your hands. You sighed again and let the muscles in your body sag a little.

You were unable to fully relax as your mind began to project flashbacks of last night; images of Joel's face, the sensations of his body, the sounds of the whip cracking your flash, of his hips smacking against yours, all burned into your memory.

The depth of pain you felt, both physically and emotionally, was unprecedented in your relationship with Joel. Yes, he had always been rough, at times uncaring of your comfort, but the hurt he had inflicted upon you last night was the first time he had ever genuinely frightened you.

You were well aware that he could be ruthless, that he was capable of great cruelty - you'd heard the rumours of his past as an infamous raider. And although Joel never talked about his past you quickly surmised that he had committed some acts of unspeakable violence.

You had heard the snippets of gossip about his barbaric pragmatism as a patrolman, too. The ways he would execute raiders and kill infected without a sliver of hesitation, the sniper like precision of his marksmanship, his ability to kill someone with his bare hands.

His violent reputation was justified and had earned him the respect (and even a bit of fear) of every person in Jackson, including yours. Perhaps the foreboding mystique surrounding Joel added to the allure you felt for him. Maybe you were even drawn to the sense of danger he exuded.

But despite this attraction, you couldn't ever have imagined him directing an ounce of rage or hostility towards you. You had never witnessed the extent of his dark side first hand. Not until you were confronted with his icy glare in your bedroom and the subsequent punishment of his belt. The depraved rage you saw in his eyes last night was now seared into your very core. Your splintered heart was wounded and fearful.

Joel had never been overtly considerate or encouraging of your emotions. He never really asked you what you were feeling or what you wanted (unless he was fucking you in that moment). Early on in the relationship, or whatever it was that you and Joel shared, you had accepted that he was not as expressive or emotionally open as you wished. But you understood it was just who he was, either through natural temperament or from the years of struggle and survival in this world, or both.

There were times when Joel had been tender and affectionate, though, especially in the beginning. Sacred moments that you both dare not openly acknowledge. Like in the middle of the night when you were both snuggled under the sheets and he would pull you close to his chest, wrap you in his strong arms, and kiss the top of your head. The blissful pockets of physical affection were enough to placate you for a while, until your heart could no longer repress it's hunger for more. The yearning for unconditional love, a family of your own, someone to share your life with.

You didn't know if he ever loved you or truly cared about you. But if he had not, why was he so possessive?

You had discovered the jealous streak of his personality quite quickly. The subtle displays of displeasure - the flare of his nostrils, the hard set of his jaw, the flash of anger in his eyes, whenever a man even looked your way. You used to find it sort of endearing. It made you feel wanted.

In a public setting no one would guess that Joel would be stealthily watching you and taking note of who you were interacting with and your body language. No one seemed to realise that Joel was an expert at appearing nonchalant while observing and absorbing every thing in his surrounding environment, constantly vigilant. Protecting what was his.

If he saw a man, regardless of age, had struck up conversation with you at the Tipsy Bison or the cafeteria, Joel would be sure to chastise you later on. It didn't matter that you weren't interested in anyone but him. It didn't matter that you only politely responded in a way that indicated you weren't interested. That wasn't enough for Joel.

As you became more attached to Joel and more expressive with your affection, it seemed Joel became more aggressive with your body. What started as light dirty talk during sex progressed into an exercise of control and sacrifice, with Joel fucking you mercilessly and covering your body with hickies and bruises with an almost obsessive need to stake his claim.

He hated anyone being too close to you. He would have preferred you to be completely isolated from everyone else, focused only on tending to he and Ellie. He dislikes your dedication to your duties and your preoccupation with your friends, who he disapproved of. Joel criticised them for being too loud or opinionated, accusing them of being too promiscuous. You knew he genuinely considered a couple of them to be bad influences just because they talked about sex and dating.

But how could Joel be so jealous when he didn't want to make your relationship official? Was it just sex to him? Why did he want to control you so much yet refuse to publicly assert his ownership? His greed only reinforced the validity of that tiny niggling belief that had been buried inside your heart since the day you lost your family. The notion that you would always be alone. That you did not deserve to be happy. That you were worthless.

And what was worse....you still loved Joel. Despite the agony he had inflicted, you still fucking wanted him.

Maybe you were just fucking broken. Irretrievably broken.

The flurry of thoughts and questions circulating in your mind was making you feel dizzy. You groaned and dug your palms into your eye sockets. You willed yourself not to start crying again.

Fuck fuck fuck I feel like I'm going crazy.

Then a knock at the wooden classroom door suddenly shattered your thoughts. Your head snapped up, startled to find Oscar standing at the door. He was wearing jeans and a slightly tattered dark blue sweater, a hand clutching the strap of a satchel slung over one shoulder. His eyes peered at you behind his round spectacles with a curious concern, his thick eyebrows knitted together.

"Hey," he cooed. "Mind if I come in?"

"Hi," you nodded and cleared your throat. "Yes, ofcourse."

You winced slightly at the croakiness of your voice and hoped Oscar didn't notice how fragile you sounded. You looked away and smoothed your hands over your blouse before sitting up straighter in an attempt to appear more composed. Oscar approached your desk with cautious slow steps, one leg limping slightly, the soles of his boots thudding across the floor.

You braced your hands on the desk and rose up from your chair, your lips pursed with anticipation of the painful sting of your flesh. You saw him open his mouth but you spoke before he could.

"Why are you here? How can I help you?"

"Well," Oscar came to stand at the desk but stayed a few steps away from you, a clear attempt to respect your space. He swung his satchel off of his shoulder and plonked it ontop of your desk. "I found something for you, actually."

You looked at him with an eyebrow raised quizzically. He looked back and grinned, his brown eyes shining with warmth. Your eyes flickered down to the bag as Oscar flipped open the satchel and reached in. From it's confines he retrieved a hard cover book. You instantly recognised the tiny pictures of different insects decorating the spine of the book, and your mouth fell open in surprise.

"Oscar, is that--"

"Kids Bug Science Volume III," Oscar announced proudly with a chuckle, holding up the book with both hands for you to see the cover. It was the next installment of the insect series you had been using to teach with, a resource you hadn't thought you'd ever be lucky enough to find.

"Oh my gosh, no way!" You laughed, a hand shooting up to cover the large smile you were unable to hold back. Your eyes looked from the book to Oscar in wonderment. "Where did you find it?"

"Well, I was rummaging around the storeroom crawl space, trying to fix a wire, and I found a bunch of books up there." Oscar held the book out for you to take. "This was one of 'em."

You accepted the book and held it in your hands, your thumbs tracing over the cover. "I can't believe it,' you whispered.

"I'm sorry I couldn't wait until your next shift at the library," Oscar said, sounding slightly sheepish. "Got excited when I saw it and wanted to give it to you straight away."

You looked up from the book and met his gaze. There was a gentle expression in his beautiful brown eyes now, a mix of shy affection and sadness.

"Thank you," you said softly as you clutched the book to your chest. "Really. I appreciate this so much."

Oscar nodded once and looked down before adjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

"You're welcome." He collected his satchel and hitched it back over his shoulder. "I know it means alot to you. And for the kids."

You put the book down on your desk and chewed your bottom lip, unsure what to say next. You were worried that he could somehow detect what had happened with Joel, like there was some visible sign on your face that announced how much of a slut you were, how Joel made you cum so hard after abusing you, how disgusting you were to still have feelings for a man who degraded you. Your cheeks blushed involuntarily.

Suddenly the thought of Joel somehow seeing you right now, alone with Oscar in your classroom, pierced through your mind and filled your stomach with dread. You tried to swallow but your throat felt so dry. Oscar noticed the change in your expression and leaned in closer towards you immediately.

"Hey, are you okay?" He asked, his tone soft but serious.

"Yeah, I'm okay," you replied in a small voice, avoiding his gaze. "I'm just a bit tired."

"You can tell me anything, like if something's bothering you," he said quietly. "Only if you want to, ofcourse. I'm here, if you would like to talk."

Oscar placed a tentative hand on your shoulder. The unexpected contact made you stiffen a little and your face turned up to look at him. He was looking down at you, his hooded brown eyes studying your face, both his orbs shifting between yours, as if searching for something. The tender concern in his expression made you feel like lunging into his arms to feel him hold you and comfort you.

"Okay," you whispered. "Thank you, Oscar."

You remained staring at one another with Oscar's warm hand on your shoulder, the silence between you feeling increasingly intimate as each second passed. You were sure Oscar felt it too; it was evident in the way his eyes bored into yours, how his mouth opened slightly and his tongue darted over his bottom lip.

Without warning a loud knock at the classroom door came crashing through the private bubble surrounding you and Oscar, making you both step back from one another with instinctive haste. It was one of your students, a little boy, who suddenly began to ramble loudly about one of the soccer balls deflating again.

"Whoa, slow down little man. I'll be there in a minute with the pump," you replied.

He nodded enthusiastically and then ran back outside to the yard. You and Oscar glanced back at each other and breathed a small laugh together, the tension relieved between you.

"I better go," he ran a hand through his curly black hair. "Sorry for interrupting your day."

"Why are you saying sorry?" You turned your body to face him and smiled. "Thank you. For thinking of me and coming by and to give me the book. It'll be so useful in my next few lessons."

Oscar returned your smile. "Anytime. Well then...I guess I'll see you at the library sometime?"

His thick eyebrows raised and there was a slight inquisitive lilt to his voice, as if he was wanting confirmation that he would actually see you again.

"Yeah, ofcourse. My next shift is in two days," you replied, reaching up to tuck a stray hair behind your ear.

He turned on his heel and you watched him walk back to the door, his limp slightly more prominent now because he stood taller, his posture more straight, prouder. When he disappeared through the threshold you looked down at the book and traced the cover with your fingertips. Although you had only spent a short time with Oscar, you had never known a man to be so considerate, so caring.

"Great," Oscar said, his eyes roaming over your face and hair for a brief moment, his own features unreadable to you. "I'll see ya then."

It was new. And it felt good.

It was only when he was gone that you realised you could still smell the faint cinnamon scent around you, the smell that you would eventually come to associate with Oscar.

After finishing at the school that afternoon you walked across the townships to visit Maude at her cottage. You sunk into the cushion of an armchair in her loungeroom while her housemate, another elderly lady, served you cups of tea. You spent an hour listening to them detail Maude's sickness and the type of medicine the doctor prescribed her, how her housemate tended to her day and night, and how caring Tommy and Maria had been. It was close to dinner time when you said goodbye and left to go home.

You tucked the science book into the crook of your arm as you strolled through the back streets toward your cottage, consciously avoiding the busier sections of the streets in order to reach home quicker.

You weren't in the mood to eat dinner in the mess hall this evening. You did not feel energetic enough to socialise with anyone or to continue masking the force of emotions plaguing your insides. You had no appetite, anyway. The girls would probably wonder where you were but that didn't matter. They knew you were more introverted, more content with retreating into your own world than socialising unnecessarily, especially at meal times.

You could visualise yourself curled up in bed under the comforting weight of your blanket with a favourite book in your hand. It was exactly what you needed.

When you arrived at your home you were surprised to see Ellie sitting on your porch, her legs crossed. She was tossing a pocketknife into the air and catching it in one hand with practiced ease. You always secretly enjoyed seeing her relaxed like this, so carefree and youthful. When her face was pulled into her large, charming smile and her eyes sparkled mischievously.

"Hey," you greeted her, trying your best to sound upbeat as you trudged up to the porch. "What're you doing on my property, kiddo?"

Her heart flooded with great affection for Ellie when you were reminded of just how soft she was inside. She could always make you laugh with some silly joke or her vulgar humour. You were always pleased to see her, except today was different. She reminded you too much of Joel.

"Hey!" Ellie grinned at you. She scrambled to stand up and jammed the knife back in her jeans pocket. "Wanted to know if you wanna get dinner together. I needa pick your brain about some comic ideas I got going on."

You pinched your eyes shut and sighed.

"Oh El," you murmured quietly. "I'm not really up for hanging out tonight, I'm sorry."

You swallowed the lump that had formed in your throat immediately after the words left your mouth. You should've known this was coming. The inevitable first time you would disappoint Ellie because you couldn't face being reminded of Joel.

"Oh," Ellie mumbled. "You okay? You look kinda pale."

You looked at her and mustered a weak smile.

"Yeah, I'm just super tired. Busy day at school."

Ellie puffed her cheeks and exhaled a breath of air then looked down. Her disappointment was evident.

Seeing Ellie look so dejected made you feel even worse. You knew she had struggled for so long - struggled to fit into the community, to adjust to life outside the QZ, to grow into a young woman without the guidance of a mother. You understood that she craved connection and acceptance more than she would ever willingly admit. Ellie had come to trust you and respect you enough to let her vulnerability occasionally peek through. You couldn't let her down like this, not when she wanted to share something or part of herself with you.

"'Kay," she kicked at some sawdust on your porch. "Maybe next time, I guess."

You sighed and reached out to grab her hand. Her eyes shifted up to meet yours.

"El," you squeezed her small hand gently. "I'd love to. Just let me put this book inside first."

Ellie's face instantly lit up.

"Cool." She glanced at the science book you were holding and scrunched her nose. "The fuck is bug science?"

******

As you walked side by side through the mess hall doors, you were attentively listening to Ellie describe the new character she had created for the comic book she was working on. It was only after collecting a meal tray from the serving counter that you noticed the group of rangers already seated across the hall.

Their loud conversation, which was occasionally punctuated with booming laughter, compelled you and Ellie to turn and look in their direction.

"Geez, who the fuck is being so loud?" She muttered in annoyance.

You spotted the five men sitting at a round table near the back of the hall, their broad shoulders and thick arms occupying the space with You recognised them as being the senior patrolmen of Jackson, including Troy, Tommy and Joel.

Joel.

When your eyes found Joel you saw he was already watching you and Ellie, chewing the inside of his cheek, the expression in his eyes unreadable. He was the only one of them not talking or joking as he absentmindedly poked at his food with a fork.

"Ugh, nevermind, it's just Joel and his girlfriends." Ellie said with a roll of her eyes. She jerked her head towards a free table nearby. "Come on, let's sit."

Your pulse began to race and your cheeks flushed. You gripped your fingers around the dinner tray tightly and quickly lowered your gaze in submissive humility, the depressing mixture of shame and fear once again engulfing you whole. You wanted so badly to run away and hide. But you knew you couldn't. You felt frozen, like a deer in the headlights. You shouldn't have given into Ellie so easily, you should've just run inside the house and--

When you didn't move, Ellie bumped your hip with hers playfully. "Hey, hurry up, before someone steals our table."

You suppressed the panic induced bile rising in your throat and followed Ellie to a table, the cutlery on your tray clanking from the jittery shaking of your hands.

••••••

Goddamn, you look pretty today.

Joel watched you take a seat at one of the tables with careful deliberation. You were positioned sideways from his line of vision, your face obscured by a section of hair that had fallen loose from the purple ribbon you had tied around it. He could see how your body tensed up, your back stiff, as if bracing for pain.

A sense of pride then bloomed in his chest and he wished he could see your face clearly. The memory of you positioned on your knees below him, your wrists bound, your whipped ass jiggling as he assaulted you, flashed through his mind. It made Joel's cock twitch in his jeans.

Well, you must be in pain, after what he did to you last night.

Fuck, he wanted to have you again, right now.

Troy leaned forward into the table and clicked his fingers quickly to get the attention of the other men. Joel and the others looked at Troy.

"Hey," he hissed, "see that pretty little mouse with Joel's daughter, over there?"

Troy nodded his head toward where you sat with Ellie. The other rangers, including Joel, shifted their gaze over to you. You toyed with your fork, your head nodding at something Ellie was saying. You were totally oblivious to their stares.

"Estrada was eatin' with her the other day." Troy murmured slyly. "Ya think he might be screwin' her?"

Always so innocent.

The lewd question caught Joel off guard, making his breath catch in his throat. Hearing someone talk about you in such a crude way provoked a boiling rage to course through his veins. He clenched his jaw and flexed his fist under the table discreetly. He was ready to punch Troy in his stupid fucking face.

A few of them sniggered before they all turned their attention back to their trays of food.

"Estrada?" One of the patrolmen, Harry, scoffed. "I thought he was gay."

"He ain't gay," Tommy interjected, rolling his eyes. "Fuck sake, man."

"Since when does Estrada get pussy like that?" Harry grumbled.

Joel listened closely to what was being said while stabbing his food with his fork, feigning disinterest. The muscle in his jaw ticked. Tommy glanced at him.

"Since he stopped workin' patrol, I guess. He must have more time to waste chasin' tail now," another of them guffawed.

"Hey now, enough of that talk," Tommy ordered firmly. "They just work together, is all. So give it a rest."

Troy held up his hands in front of him in a pose of surrender. "Alright, alright, el capitan, just shootin' the shit is all."

Joel couldn't take it anymore. He dropped his fork down onto the tray with a clang, then pushed his chair away from the table and stood up unceremoniously.

"Hey, where you--" Tommy began.

He stalked out of the mess hall without another word, shoving the door open and stepping out into the starry night. Joel shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and trudged down the street away from the mess hall. His senses felt heightened, as if he were close to imploding, as the fury seethed throughout his body.

"Finished," Joel grunted.

He fucking hated anyone talking about you like they did. Like you were some piece of meat. Like you could ever belong to anyone but him. It pissed Joel off so much that he had to leave; he couldn't trust himself not to beat the shit out of Troy or Harry or any of the others. Tommy would kill him. Joel stormed on towards his house with his chest heaving from impotent rage.

Fuck what anyone else thought. You were his. He knew it, and you knew it. He had made sure of that. That's all that mattered.

And he was giving you time to come back to him on your own accord, to get over this little phase of insolence. You would learn your lesson and realise where your rightful place was. You would come crawling back to him - willingly.

Wouldn't you?

You couldn't just leave. No fucking way.

Yes. Ofcourse. You needed him. Just as you needed Ellie and she needed you.

He was almost home when Joel became aware that his heart was pounding and his breathing was becoming more rapid. His throat felt dry and his chest felt constricted. He managed to make it to his house in time to lurch against his front door and let his weight stabilise against it. His eyes screwed shut and he pressed his forehead against the wood. He inhaled a deep breath, then exhaled, then repeated the step, all the while waiting for the panic to dissipate. He was grateful for the dark of the night, the privacy it allowed.

After a few minutes Joel was able to regulate his breathing and calm down. The tightness in his chest loosened. He calmly unlocked the door and ambled inside the living room. He had already decided he was getting drunk tonight. And he would be paying you another visit.

taglist - @sofiparallel @harriedandharassed

#joel miller #joel miller dark #the last of us #joel miller dark fic #dark!joelmiller #joel miller x reader #oscar isaac

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roosterbruiser · 1 year

Text

𝐂𝐑𝐔𝐄𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐄𝐑 — 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓

—𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍: 𝐍𝐎 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐎. —𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐒: 𝟕.𝟏𝐊 —𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 —𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐀𝐑𝐃 —𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐔𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐀𝐊𝐒, 𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐀𝐌𝐏 𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐈𝐀 𝐉𝐔𝐋𝐘 𝟐𝟏𝐒𝐓, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟕

“What the fuck do you mean?” You spit.

It isn’t even that you’re trying to be vicious, even when you’re spewing the words at Phoenix as you wrench her wet hands away from your cheeks. Your face is hot from her touch, from the blood rushing up, up, up your throat and into your cheeks.

Phoenix blinks at you, the tips of her fingers numb and her eyes full of salt. She stutters, tries to speak, chokes on her spit, then falters--running her hands down her face as she whimpers softly.

“What’s going on?” Bradley asks, flushed at the thought of Phoenix walking in on the two of you after doing something so intimate. Instinctively, he wraps an arm around you, eyes flickering to the blankets to make sure you’re covered decently enough. You’re rigid in his arms. “What’d you say, Nix? Birdie--what’d she say?”

“She said she thinks Bob is dead,” you say, brows furrowed.

There’s an edge to your tone--a hard, hard edge. And as you rip the blankets off, exposing your naked body to Phoenix and Bradley and the cool night air, you move with a distinct sense of purpose and poise. You fall into this rigidness easily at the scent or sight of blood, at the scent or sight of vomit, at the sound of crying or screaming.

You’re foggy, but something is undeniably wrong. Phoenix doesn’t get shaken up, nor does she pull pranks the way Coyote and Hangman do. She’s covered in blood and it’s real blood that has left wide and wet handprints on your cheeks.

Something’s very, very wrong at Camp Arcadia.

Bradley starts to scramble, pulling the sheets around himself as he gets on his feet, his mouth ajar and his heart racing.

Phoenix is just watching the two of you in a state of dysphoria. She hasn’t been able to feel any part of her body since she found Bob by the water.

At first, when she realized that Bob had gone to the restroom over thirty minutes ago and not come back, she’d felt a prickle of panic at the base of her spine. But then when she found his crumpled form face down in the mud by the water, she was so chock-full of panic that it nearly burst out of her in one choking scream. But instead, she’d fallen to her knees in her pajamas, grabbing onto Bob’s arm to pull him up.

And that’s when something peculiar happened.

The arm that she grabbed, the one that she’s hooked hers into all summer long during games of Red Rover, came clean off his body. It made a sound--something akin to a pop and similar to a squelch--and then she was holding Bob’s arm and Bob’s body was not attached to it.

There were a few moments where she scrambled in the dark, too scared to scream and too horrified to leave Bob there alone. He didn’t stir when she fell backwards against the mud and he didn’t stir when she looked in the lantern light with her eyes wide and crying and found that the mud was a puddle of his blood.

Now she doesn’t know what to do except watch you.

Bradley is just standing still beside the bed, still blinking himself awake in the dark as you and Phoenix look at each other.

Part of him wants to hold his hands up, call a timeout, and ask what the fuck is going on.

But the other part of him is watching how diligently, how resolutely you’re readying yourself to head outside. He can imagine you in the hospital when you’re like this: all furrowed brow and flat lips, edged tone. It’s a stark contrast from you only a little while ago: soft curves, breathy moans, whispered voice, open-mouth smiles.

“You need to show me where Bob is,” you tell her very seriously, slipping into a random white blouse and stepping into your dungarees. “Is it his blood?”

“Yes,” Phoenix manages to utter. “It--I was pulling on his arm and then it-it…I couldn’t get it to…”

You pause, bent at the hips as you slip your socks on. You look her in the eyes, straining in the dark, and nod at her.

“You’re alright,” you tell her. “Sit down.”

And because she doesn’t know what else to do or how to tell you that she pulled an arm off her best friend, her Bob, she just sits right where she is. She has the obedience of a Golden Retriever right now--keen to just watch you, listen to you, obey you.

“I’ll go check it out,” Bradley says softly, moving to grab his crumpled clothing.

“No. I’m going,” you tell him, hooking your dungarees and stuffing your feet into your tennis shoes. “Go wake the others. Have Jake get the shotgun and stay with all the campers.”

And just like that you’re leaning down and grabbing the emergency flashlight you keep beside the dinky dresser, then stepping out into the night. Phoenix and Rooster look at each other, dumbfounded. She’s sitting on the floor covered in Bob’s blood and he’s still naked except for a sheet.

“What happened?” He asks cautiously.

All the other nurses at the hospital like to tease that you wear horse-blinders in emergencies. You see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing when you’re working if it has zilch to do with your current task. You hear doctors ordering epi and heart monitors crooning, but you don’t hear the squeak of your tennis shoes on the tile or the music playing at the nurse’s station down the hall.

Right now, you don’t hear the crickets and cicadas nor the owls or the wind through the oak trees that surround you. You don’t see the moonlight reflecting off the lake so perfectly that the water appears black and white--serene. You don’t hear gravel crunching under your soles and you don’t hear the buzzing of the flashlight. You don’t see the fireflies or the open door to the latrine.

“Bob!” You yell--your voice echoes across the entirety of camp. It’s so loud, so booming, that across the lake a few bats fly out of the trees and haphazardly flap around. “Bob!”

There is no response.

Jake wakes up to the sound of your voice--Bob! Bob! Bob! He sits up slowly in his cot, still dizzy from nearly fainting a few hours ago. It’s so dark in the cabin that he has to blink a few times to let his eyes adjust--and when they do adjust, he sees Coyote swinging his legs out the side of his cot and peering out the window.

“That Gale?” Coyote asks, voice drenched in fatigue. “Christ, what could that girl be screaming about at four in the motherfucking morning?”

“That’s a bad word,” Martha says, yawning and rubbing her eyes. “Who’s screaming? Is something the matter?”

Jake sits up--a pit in his stomach.

“Nah,” Coyote answers, standing up. “We’re all good, Martha. Go back to sleep, alright? We’ll check it out.”

Coyote yawns again, glancing at Jake.

A look of deep, deep concern is etched on Jake’s features. He doesn’t like the tone of your voice--the way it’s so loud and serious. It sears his eardrums.

“The fuck happened to Bob?” Jake mutters to Coyote, standing also.

But before Coyote can answer, Rooster is pounding on their door. Not a regular, casual knock. Not even an asshole-ish get fucked knock. It’s panicked and severe. Coyote can’t get the door open fast enough.

“Cheese and rice, man! Trying to wake all my campers?” Coyote asks, wrenching the door open.

Rooster can hardly breathe from running so fast to your cabin. Phoenix’s story is still ringing in his ears, everything else in the world muted and dull.

“Jake, get the gun,” Rooster says immediately, not even taking the time to step into the cabin. “Gather all the kids--all of them--and put them in the mess hall, alright? And don’t-don’t fucking leave ‘em, alright? Stay with ‘em. Coyote, Gale needs our help.”

“What happened to Gale?” Jake asks, voice hard and brows furrowed.

Rooster doesn’t answer--his mind is racing, spinning, crashing, burning.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Coyote says, holding his palms up, glancing over his shoulder at all his campers rustling themselves awake and sitting up with wide-eyes and wicked bed head. “The Hell’re you doing, man? You’re freakin’ the kids out.”

Rooster swallows hard--is throat is warm and thick with bile that he keeps swallowing down.

“Bob’s in a bad way, man. And it wasn’t no accident either.”

“Hey. How do we know that, huh?” Coyote warns, shaking his head. He’s never been one to fall into his role in mass hysteria. His voice is even and deep even though his heart is starting to pound. He glances back at Jake--who is wide-eyed and staring at Rooster with his face entirely paled. “You’re freaking my Jake out, too.”

Rooster swallows hard, ignores Coyote.

He looks Jake in the eyes--really, truly looks him in the eyes. Man-to-man. Man-to-whatever-the fuck-Jake-thinks-Bradley-is.

“Get the gun.”

And with that, Rooster’s off. He’s racing towards his cabin with all the littles there--all the littles he left behind, all alone, totally defenseless. There’s a rock in his gut, one that is sinking further and further until he feels like he’s running with led shoes on.

He doesn’t know what he’s waiting for or what he’s about to run into when he opens the door to his cabin. He doesn't know what he’s going to do if he finds all his campers slashed--if they didn’t have him there to protect them from whatever, from whoever, hurt Bob.

“Hey!” Rooster screams as he opens the cabin door.

There’s no thick scent of blood. There’s not a single camper with so much as a scratch. They’re all there, awake, huddled together like little chicks in the corner.

“Is Mister Bob okay?” Susie asks softly.

Bradley, standing opposite them with his chest heaving and his eyes wet, swallows hard.

“We’ve gotta get outta here, chicks,” Rooster says. “Grab your blankies and line up pronto.”

When the bright white beam of your flashlight slices through the night and lands on Bob, you break out in a sprint. His form is crumpled--he looks like a pile of stained laundry. You feel like your feet aren’t moving fast enough, like your flashlight isn’t bright enough.

But almost instantaneously, you’re on your knees beside Bob in the bloodied mud, pressing two of your fingers to his throat. You have a hard time at it--all the hot blood making his smooth skin slippery.

“Bob, it’s Nightingale,” you say calmly. “I’m just gonna feel for a pulse, alright, buddy? Just hold still.”

He doesn’t so much as twitch.

For the first time tonight, your heart sinks. A thought flashes across the forefront of your brain, caressing the backs of your aching eyeballs, settling somewhere between your brain and your skull: I didn’t have a nightmare and then someone died. No, not someone. Bob. Bob died.

But then the thought is gone, dead, faded when you feel it against your two fingers: a pulse, right on his jugular where it should be. Not strong, but nothing he can’t come back from.

“Oh, good. Good job, Bob. Good, good,” you whisper softly to Bob. Your heart is swollen suddenly, which usually doesn’t happen to you during triage. But you’ve never worked on Bob before. You’ve never worked on anyone you love before. And there’s no doctor here to order you around, to tell you what to do next. Fuck. “Hey! I need help!”

With the flashlight tucked between your knees, Bob’s form all shadows and blood and placid skin, you begin to inspect the bloodied stump where is arm once was. It’s a clean cut, one solid hack straight through the flesh and fat and veins and bone. Blood is pouring out of the wound and pooling around your bent legs.

He’s so heaped up that you cannot see his face at all--just bits of pale skin here and there, scraps of his shirt and his broken glasses. So, you very carefully but firmly hold onto both his cheeks and turn his face towards you. He’s covered in mud, bits of blood.

“I’m going to clear your airways,” you tell him. His eyelids twitch. You stick your fingers into his mouth, hook them, and scrape all the mud off his tongue. The breaths puffing from his nose are short and labored. “Good job. Good, good job.”

You hear a noise--running on gravel--and don’t turn to see who it is.

“Oh my fucking God!” Fanboy shrieks, stopping dead in his tracks.

Paybacks stops, too, his mouth wide open and his eyes glassy.

“Fuck,” Payback whispers, blinking rapidly as you press your bare hands to Bob’s wound and press down hard. He bends over, holding onto his knees, and reels as his head spins. “I’m gonna hurl.”

Snapping to attention, you glance over at them. In the thin beam of their flashlight, you almost look monstrous. There’s blood all over you, two handprints on your cheeks like war paint, and your face is serious and hard.

“I need a belt,” you tell them. Then you swallow hard, shaking your head. No one’s gonna have a belt. Everyone packs shorts and t-shirts. “I need--I need something, alright? I need one of you to go and look for something that we can tie around his arm.”

Fanboy has gone pale. Payback’s eyes are shut tight.

“His fucking arm’s gone,” Fanboy says softly, brown eyes wide. “His fucking--his fucking arm is gone, man!”

Your heart is hammering in your chest as more blood pours down your arms.

Scrambling for something, anything, you hold tight to Bob’s already-torn shirt and rip until a jagged shred comes off into your hands.

“I need help,” you tell the two men still staring at you. Behind them, the camp is starting to come alive with alarm. Campers hurrying with their counselors into the mess hall, counselors running around doing headcounts and carrying lanterns and flashlights. “Like, now!”

Fanboy finally comes closer and falls to his knees. He’s trembling when you roughly grab his wrists and force his hands over Bob’s wounds. It’s a feeling that Mickey immediately knows he will never forget: the hot, torn flesh of one of his best friends right there in the palms of his hands.

You make very quick work of tying a tourniquet around Bob’s wound, just above the cut. You pull the t-shirt so tight that it begins to rip again. The blood is already slowing--thank fucking God.

“What the fuck happened?” Fanboy mutters to you.

“Someone cut his fucking arm off, man!” Payback calls out, spitting into the dirt when his mouth fills with water. “Oh--oh, God…do you think they’re coming back?”

Fanboy’s heart is in his belly. He’s never heard Payback like this before: scared. Genuinely, actually, thoroughly scared.

You interrupt the frenzy.

“We need to get him to the mess hall,” you say decidedly. It’s closest to where you are now--no chance you’re gonna make it to the nurse’s cabin. “Now.”

“I’m freaking, Gale,” Payback tells you, choked with tears. “Oh my God…Bob…”

Fanboy turns to you, eyes wide with panic. You’re staring back at him, eyes wide and serious.

“We’re gonna lift him on three, okay? I’m gonna take his head so you don’t have to worry about his arm. I’ve got it.”

Because of the way you’re speaking to him--calm, even, serious--and because of the expression on your face--placid, severe--Fanboy nods instantly. You’re a lighthouse right now, shining light on his face, pulling him in towards land during a storm. You’ve got this. He knows that you do. And all he can do right now is listen.

Payback is beside himself, sobbing into his palms, frozen in his spot, on the verge of vomiting. Any other time, you would be there beside him, offering him ginger candy and a cold compress. But right now you have to worry about Bob.

The mess hall is crowded with kids in their pajamas, clutching secret teddy bears and asking their counselor for the millionth time what’s going on.

Jake is standing by the door with the shotgun, making sure it’s loaded as he waits to hear from you. His fingers are trembling and every time he looks over at Phoenix, who’s sitting at one of the wooden tables, his head fills with cotton.

She’s covered in blood--all down her arms, her hands, the front of her pajama shirt, her shorts, her legs. Phoenix is sitting silently, very still, where she is. She can’t stop thinking about the sound that Bob’s arm made when it came off his body. And, more than that, she keeps thinking that everyone here is going to die. It’s gnawing at her like a rat with an electrical cord--it’s bound to blow up, end in flames.

Coyote is doing another headcount, his brows furrowed. All the kids keep fidgeting and it’s making it hard to keep count, but he’s somehow doing it. Everyone’s here. It’s okay. He stands before them with his hands on his hips, chewing his bottom lip.

Bradley comes into the mess hall later than everyone else, haphazardly dressed and with a string of little chicks following him blindly, all trying to clutch his shirt at the same time.

“Everyone got their headcount?” Coyote asks as Bradley settles his kids beside all the others.

“Yeah,” Bradley answers. “We’re all here.”

Jake is just about to say something, anything, whenever Payback comes into the mess hall. His hands are on his face and he’s bent at the hips as he dry-heaves. Everyone watches in utter silence, shocked, when he cuts across the wide-plank floors and to the kitchen.

“The fuck is the matter with him?” Coyote mutters.

But then they hear it--you. You’re carrying Bob’s upper body, straining with all your might, exhaling with a grunt as you and Fanboy get closer to the mess hall door.

You’re close, you remind yourself. Almost there. Just a little more.

“You okay?” Fanboy asks. He’s straining too.

“Yeah,” you answer through grit teeth.

But your arms are shivering with defeat, your body vibrating with exhaustion. You feel like you aren’t going to make it the rest of the ten paces to the entrance of the mess hall. You feel like you’re losing already and you don’t know how to stop it.

You aren’t strong enough to hold Bob. You’re going to drop him here on the gravel. All hope is draining from your body like blood--pooling around your knees. You won’t be able to save him.

Then, in the very dark night, someone calls your name. Not just one voice, but two--it’s Coyote and Bradley. They’re rushing towards you and Fanboy and Bob.

“Help!” You call out desperately, tears suddenly pouring down your face. “Help us!”

“Fuck,” Coyote mutters when he sees Bob for the first time. And he suddenly understands what the fuck was from with Payback. His belly turns but he hooks his arms beneath Bob’s torso anyway and pulls him up. “I’ve got ‘im!”

Bradley comes to take your spot, carefully but hastily hooking his arms around Bob the way you had been. When you let go and Bob doesn’t fall and they’re carrying him to the mess hall, you have to stand still for a moment to breathe. They’re a few paces ahead of you, ushering Bob inside. And then they will be waiting for you, looking at you for guidance.

Panic is licking at your heels like a hungry dog. You kick it away, wipe your face of tears, and then turn towards the nurse’s cabin.

“I--I have to go get supplies!” You call out. “I’ll be back in a jiff!”

That’s when Jake suddenly comes out of the mess hall, very carefully maneuvering around Bob and everyone else. In his cropped baseball tee and his shorts, holding that shotgun with all the authority of an outlaw, he shakes his head at you. He would never let you go alone.

“I’m coming with you,” he says, already making his way towards you.

“I’m covered in blood,” you tell him, sniffling.

Fuck. You wipe your face again. No more crying.

He chews his bottom lip.

“It’s dark. I can’t see you,” he says. “Let’s giddy on up.”

He wishes, more than anything, that the world would stop for just a second. Just so he could look at you, just so he could help put your hair up, just so he could hold your cheeks and look for injury, just so he could look into your eyes and see their color and let all the feeling come back into his toes.

“We’ve gotta go quick,” you tell him. “That t-shirt tourniquet ain’t gonna last.”

The two of you run to the nurse’s cabin together, your tears fading the closer you get to the door of the cabin.

“The fuck is happening?” Jake says to you. “What happened to him?”

You shake your head, panting, flicking the lightswitch on in the nurse’s cabin. Jake, who had been watching your shadowed form, has to look away from you. He stands in the doorway, his back facing you, and aims his gun at all the nothing out there before him.

He listens to you--all those human sounds you’re making. You keep sniffling and wiping your face. He knows you’re crying, which to him seems to be a very natural response to what’s happening here right now, but he knows that it’s bothering you, too. Your footsteps are heavy and rushed as you grab gauze and medical tape and first aid.

Jake just listens.

He’s waiting, almost, for something to materialize in the dark and come rushing towards him. A man, a beast, a creature, a monster, a ghost. He isn’t sure what--he just feels like it’s coming. It is going to come. Quietly as he knows how, he flicks the safety off. Just in case.

“Is he gonna die?” Jake asks.

Swallowing hard, your arms full of antiseptic, you shake your head.

“No. But we can’t stay here. We’ve gotta--we’ve gotta get the fuck outta here.”

“But the tree,” Jake says. He can feel you nodding, even without looking at you. “And the phones are out.”

“I know,” you tell him, shaking your head. Brain pulsing a mile a minute, you strain to remember if you need anything more than you have on the table. “I know.”

“What are we gonna do?” Jake whispers.

You swallow hard.

“Survive,” you tell him.

♀

It’s strange that the sun is shining. It’s strange that birds are calling and the lake is rippling. There’s not a cloud in the sky, just vast baby blue that stretches on forever and ever. And the air is suddenly perfumed with irises--which seemed to have literally bloomed overnight in spurts of violet and deep green.

Really, it’s a beautiful day.

But everyone is still huddled inside. The campers are itching to get outside, to return to some normalcy, but not one of them is brave enough to ask about it. Jake’s been sitting by the door all night with the shotgun, eyes narrowed and laser-focused. Phoenix, Fanboy, and Payback are all sitting at the picnic tables, saying nothing to each other, their eyes drooping and their chests aching.

Bradley and Coyote are in the kitchen with you and Bob, each of you sitting around him. It was a long, long night. The worst night of your life, probably. There are no windows in the kitchen so you cannot smell the irises in here--all you can smell is burnt flesh from where you held a burning frying pan to Bob’s wound to cauterize it.

“It’s almost ten,” Coyote sighs, running his hands down his face. His fingers are stained with blood. “What are we gonna do?”

“Stick it out,” Bradley answers. His shoulder is just barely grazing yours and it’s keeping him going right now--those brief and accidental grazes. You two didn’t get to live long in the afterglow so this is as much as he gets now. “What else are we gonna do?”

“Investigate,” Coyote answers. “Look around. See what we find.”

“What would we find?” Bradley asks.

It’s quiet for a moment. Coyote readjusts on the tiles and shrugs.

“A weapon,” he asnwers. “The weapon. A fucking…I don’t know. A clue?”

Bradley scoffs.

“Look, we all know how much you love Scooby Doo, but this isn’t Mystery Inc., alright? This is real fucking life and Bob is really fucking hurt and we’re fucking stuck here,” Bradley spits. “Whatever the fuck is happening here is real and we’re living it and there’s not clues to find.”

The tips of Coyote’s ears burn with rage.

But then you clear your throat.

“Coyote’s right,” you say softly. “Maybe we should go in shifts. Let the kids stretch their legs. We’re gonna go crazy if we’re cooped up in here all day.”

Rooster scoffs again, shaking his head.

“What, the killer only comes at night?”

“Appears that way,” you whisper back.

You look at him--the one who’s been your right-hand man all night and into this beautiful morning. He didn’t hesitate at all. He held onto Bob’s arm, checked his pulse, didn’t gag. He handed you the right items when you called for them--gauze, tape, cotton, syringe, alcohol. After everything you did last night, the love that he shared with you and the body you shared with him, and this is where you are now. Those big, brown eyes pouring into yours, lips twisted in exhaustion, blood thick on his hands and arms.

And he’s looking at you, too. He watched you work all night--really, really work--and not once did you stumble. You did some of the most ugly and life-saving things for Bob and you didn’t so much as flinch when you did it. Head-to-toe, you’re covered in blood. Bradley’s sure you probably have some in your teeth, too, after the night you’ve had. But here you are all the same, beautiful and looking at him gently.

“We need to make a plan,” Coyote says.

You nod at once. Bradley nods, but doesn’t look away from you.

Looking down at Bob, his flaxen face and his fluttering eyelids, you sigh. He’s alive. He’s alive and that’s all that matters right now and you’ve done all you can do and that’s that. Part of you wishes he would wake up and tell everyone what happened. The other part of you, the more sober and logical part of you, is glad he isn’t awake to feel the pain.

“He’ll be arlight,” Bradley whispers to you. “It’s Bob. Bob can’t die.”

You sniff again, shake your head.

“Let’s get everyone in here, huh?”

Everyone does squeeze into the kitchen--which is far too small. Jake stands at the door, his back turned to everyone, and keeps the shotgun aimed for the main entrance.

“He’s…alive?” Fanboy asks from beside Payback, glancing down at Bob’s body splayed on the tiles.

“Yes,” you whisper. “But he won’t be if we don’t figure out how to get out of here.”

Phoenix sighs, sniffles, rubs the tears under her eyes.

“What about the bus?” She asks.

“It’s older than us,” Jake says, shaking his head soberly. “Besides, I’m sure the gas is bad.”

Coyote nods.

“He’s right. Ain’t no way that bus is getting us out of here.”

“Well, even if it did work, we couldn’t get out of here,” Bradley says.

“The tree,” you follow.

A lull falls over the group. Everyone is picking their skin, blinking, rubbing the toes of their shoes against the tiles.

“So, what are we gonna do?” Payback asks. “Do we just…wait until Mav and Pen come for the next supply run?”

Coyote exhales long and hard through his nose.

“That ain’t until the first week of August,” he says softly. “No way we’ll be alive by then.”

Phoenix snaps up, staring hard at Coyote.

“Is that some sort of joke?” She asks, brows furrowed. She wraps her arms around herself as her heart races. “‘Cause no one’s laughing.”

Coyote blinks at her.

“I wasn’t joking,” he says.

Another lull falls over the group.

“Listen, we aren’t gonna die,” Bradley says, sighing. “Two bad things happened, okay? And whoever or, like, whatever did ‘em couldn’t even finish the job. So, I’d say we’re gonna be fine.”

Now Fanboy scoffs loudly--it echoes off the tiles.

“Fine? You think we’re gonna be fine? Bob’s arm is fucking gone! Phoenix pulled it off!” Fanboy says, gesturing wildly. “We don’t have enough food to last us until August and we can’t go trotting on down the trail and cut the fucking tree down ‘cause someone’ll cut us down! We’re fucked, man. We’re totally fucked.”

Jake shakes his head. And before anyone else can speak, Jake starts.

“When did we all become such pussies, huh?” He asks. He turns so his profile is visible. He makes a point of not looking into the room because of the blood, so he just stares atraight ahead at the doorframe. “Why the fuck are we sitting around in here when we should be using the daylight to our advantage? Shit, how many of us are there? Seven?”

“Six,” Phoenix answers, nodding to Bob. Her heart aches--genuienly aches--when Bob doesn’t turn to her and roll his eyes. “There’s six of us, really.”

“Fine. There’s six of us. And whoever is out there--shit, there’s gotta only be one of them, right? ‘Cause they didn’t get the job done both times.”

“But we don’t know that,” Fanboy says. “There could be a bunch.”

“I’m willing to bet there’s one fucking freak out there, alright? And one fucking freak isn’t gonna herd us into the fucking mess hall, are they? We need to get out there. Figure this all out.”

You’re shaking your head softly.

“There’s nothing to figure out,” Payback says. “We’re fucked, man.”

“Stop saying we’re fucked,” Coyote says. “We don’t even know what we are yet.”

“Okay, fine. We’re not fucked yet. But Bob is,” Fanboy says, glancing down at Bob. “Shit, I bet these kids are fucked, too.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Phoenix hisses suddenly, turning towards Fanboy and shoving a finger in his face. “Don’t fucking talk about Bob like he isn’t here! He’s right here!”

“But is he?” Payback says. And he doesn’t say it to be a dick. He says it because he means it, really has to ask it.

Phoenix sniffles, shaking her head.

“Yes,” you answer for her, voice very quiet and calm. “Yes, he’s right here.”

It’s quiet for a moment. The campers are starting to whine about being hungry.

“What about Paul?” Bradley asks.

Brows furrow.

“What about him?” Coyote asks. “Like, you think he’s the killer?”

Bradley shakes his head.

“Nah, man. He’s too old. But he’s--he’s still out there. Maybe he has a truck or a radio or-or something we can use, right?”

Everyone nods slowly.

“But then who’s gonna go there?” Fanboy asks.

“Yeah, that’s a trek through the woods,” Payback answers. “Count me the fuck out, man.”

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Jake spits.

“Knock it off,” you whisper--it’s only just loud enough for everyone to hear. “We’ve gotta be on the same page or we really aren’t going to make it, okay?”

“I just…I don’t even know what we’re up against,” Phoenix whispers. “I’m so confused.”

You pat her knee softly.

“I know,” you whisper. “None of us do.”

“I know whatever we’re up against is too much of a scaredy cat to come out during the day,” Jake says. “Which is why we would be taking advantage of the sun.”

“You don’t know that, though. You really don’t. You’re just guessing,” Bradley sighs. “We need to all agree on one plan.”

You subtly let your fingers fall on Bob’s throat--the pulse is still there. No change.

Phoenix carefully slips her hand into Bob’s--he’s still warm. She squeezes hard.

“I don’t wanna leave Bob,” Phoenix whispers. She begins to weep all over again, face contorting in agony. “I really don’t wanna leave Bob.”

“Okay. Phoenix and I stay with Bob,” you say, nodding. “We should get the axes and, like, any other weapons we can find. Lock the cabins up so no one can surprise us.”

Everyone nods slowly.

“Then what?” Fanboy asks.

You sigh. Your legs are cramping from having them bent all night, but you don’t stretch out.

“We’ll sleep in shifts. Armed escorts to the latrine. We’ll wait.”

“For what?” Jake asks quietly. “A miracle?”

“Help,” you whisper. “We’ll wait for help.”

Bradley nods rapidly, peeling his eyes away from your tired, bloodied face.

“She’s right,” he says. “We should just wait for help.”

Coyote sighs deeply, running his hands down his face for the millionth time today.

“I feel like we’re bait,” he says. “I don’t wanna be bait, man.”

“We’re not bait,” you answer. “We’re not. We have the…the mean to protect ourselves. We’ve got the campers to think of, too, okay? So, we just need to keep our heads.”

“Yeah, or they’ll be cut off…” Fanboy whispers.

Coyote nudges him.

“Enough with the doom and gloom, alright? She’s right. We’ve gotta keep our heads.”

Everyone starts to move after that.

You and Phoenix stay right there with Bob, your hand on her leg, her face buried in her own shoulder as she weeps. Coyote offers to clear our the rooms of necessary items and lock them all up. Payback and Fanboy start lining the kids up to go to the latrine and stretch their legs. Bradley and Jake start for the bus barn to look for a final time, just to confirm what they already know.

Finally, it’s quiet in the mess hall. So quiet that you can hear the swallows chirping outside and the wind blowing through the trees. You can hear Bob breathing--very faint and very quiet.

Phoenix turns her wet face towards Bob finally, her throat constricting. She smooths a hand through his hair, sniffling hard.

“Does he…does he hurt?”

“No,” you whisper, shaking your head. “He’s in shock. And, besides, I gave him a morphine tablet.”

Phoenix nods. It makes her chest feel less tight than it did before.

“What could even cut through like that?” Phoenix whispers, shaking her head. “I mean, not a knife, right?”

“Definitely not a seashell,” you whisper.

A sad smile tugs at her lips.

“An ax?” She whispers. You say nothing. She knows she’s right. “What’s happening, Gale?”

Again, you sigh.

“I’m not sure,” you answer. “I just don’t know.”

Phoenix stares down at Bob again. He almost doesn’t look like himself because of all the blood and mud. It bothers her because she knows it would bother him--being so entirely covered in grime. He’s the cleanest person she knows.

“He’d hate being so dirty,” she whispers to you. She carefully strokes his cheek. “He showers twice a day.”

And because you don’t know what else to do and because you’re choked up and because you’re so exhausted and because you’re so scared, you stand on wobbly legs. And then you move to the sink and turn the tap on and wait for it to warm. Your knees are trembling and your undereyes are pulsing, but you keep your fingers beneath the stream anyway. Then you wet a few rags, fill a small container, and slowly come back to Phoenix.

Neither of you say anything, choked on the humanness of the situation, as you both begin to diligently wipe at the dirt and gore that covers Bob’s skin. It’s very quiet except for dripping water and occasional sniffles.

If anyone else were to walk in this room right now, Bob’s body without an arm and cauterized with a frying pan and you and Phoenix drenched in his blood, they would think that you are preparing him for his funeral. They would think that in this time of crisis, when there is someone out there that wants to hurt everyone else and no one knows who they are or where or what or why or how, you and Phoenix are doing what you can. You’re being as human as human can be, washing the blood off Bob even though he isn’t awake to feel it or see it.

You wring a rag in the bucket--it’s color is that of red clay.

Across camp, Jake and Bradley are standing before the bus now. Their hands are on their hips and they’re squinting beneath the sun, chewing their bottom lips.

“Fuck,” Bradley whispers.

“I was gonna say that,” Jake whispers.

All the tired are slashed. Whoever is at Camp Arcadia was here, too. Maybe standing right where Bradley and Jake are now.

Jake sighs.

“What now?” Bradley asks.

“We listen to Gale,” Jake answers.

Rooster nods, swallowing hard.

“Alright,” he says. “Yeah.”

Maybe it’s Jake’s fault for bringing you up right now. Maybe it’s Bradley’s fault for agreeing. But now both of them are sitting uncomfortably in the thick of their feelings for you, shifting their weights from one foot to another.

And for whatever reason, Jake thinks about Bradley coming to his cabin early this morning. He thinks about the direction he came from--your cabin--and the direction he went--his cabin.

“Hey, man,” Jake says, wandering forward to run a finger along the dusty bus. Rooster watches from the doorway, still taking it all in. “Why weren’t you in your cabin last night?”

“Now isn’t the time, Seresin,” Rooster grumbles. “We need to go grab the axes. Let’s go.”

Jake doesn’t move.

“Where were you? Bathroom break?”

Bradley stares at him. His jaw is squared.

“You’re really doing this right now?” He asks, incredulous.

Jake just nods.

“You know where I was,” Bradley says softly. “Can we go now?”

Jake swallows hard. He doesn’t know why he’s getting into this--he isn’t dumb, he knows right now isn’t the time. But he’s so exhausted and he hasn’t been able to look at you all day and all last night. He almost fainted because you had a fucking bloody nose. He doesn’t know what’s going on and he’s scared and worried and stressed, but instead of feeling all of that he’s decided to just feel angry. Angry at Bradley.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

Bradley turns his back, scoffing loudly.

“Grow the fuck up,” Bradley spits.

And that’s when Bradley hears it--very faint, like it was supposed to be a secret. The clicking of the safety on the shotgun.

Rooster whirls around, eyes wide. Jake is staring at him, shotgun in his hands and aimed towards the ground.

“Did you just turn the safety off?” Rooster asks. The tips of his ears are bright red.

Jake’s face screws up as if he’s been insulted.

“Are you fucking mental? Of course I didn’t,” Jake spits. “But I bet you made it with Nightingale last night, didn’t you?”

Bradley takes a step forward, eyes narrowed.

“Yeah. I did.”

Jake’s jaw drops.

“You’re lying,” he seethes.

“She really goes electric when you kiss her thighs,” Bradley says, the hint of a smirk tugging on his lips. “But you already knew that, right?”

“Yeah, I did,” Jake whispers. “I made her cum. Three times.”

“And then never again,” Bradley says. “We’re together now.”

“Bullshit you are!” Jake says. “Fuck you, man. You think you’re such a macho guy, huh? Making all the decisions for her!”

Rooster barks out a laugh.

“I think she made her choice last night,” he tells Jake. “So, while Coyote read you a bedtime story, Gale and I made it official.”

“You don’t get to just date whatever you fuck,” Jake seethes. “Then every tubesock in the world would be lawfully yours.”

“Fuck you,” Rooster spits.

He shoves Jake’s shoulders. Jake stumbles only slightly, the gun tight in his grip.

“Fuck you, man,” Jake returns, slamming the side of the shotgun into Bradley’s chest until he stumbles back, too.

And because he’s so fucking pissed that he didn’t get to wake up basked in sunlight beside you, fresh and clean and without hurt and without incident, Bradley steps back to Jake until they’re nose-to-nose.

“Lay a hand on me again and you’re gonna live to regret it, you fucking pussy.”

It’s the nastiest thing Bradley’s ever said to Jake.

And because Jake is so drunk on you and the thought of you and Bradley touching each other makes him feel like a suffocated bottlerocket, he scowls at Bradley.

With all the commotion, Coyote wanders over to the bus barn. He doesn’t know who the fuck decided Bradley and Jake should be paired off together, but he’s cursing it now as he approaches and sees the two of them nose-to-nose.

“Nothing to say, you fucking bitch?” Bradley whispers. “Still thinking about Gale riding my cock last night? I know I am.”

Coyote steps into the barn.

“I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Jake screams.

He starts to wind up his arm, but then Coyote has his arms around him and he’s choving the gun away from Jake and pulling him back.

“Knock it the fuck off!” Coyote demands, shoving Jake to the side. “You, too, Bradshaw! Keep your fucking heads. Now isn’t the time to play tug-of-war, alright. Don’t be fucking idiots.”

Bradley and Jake are still staring at each other. Each of them are thinking about how good it would feel to let their fists come down on the other’s face over and over again and then leave them face down in the dirt.

“He’s right,” Bradley says. “Someone probably should’ve stayed with the girls anyway. Just in case.”

Jake spits--it lands right near Bradley’s shoes.

“Stop,” Coyote demands. “Get outta here, Bradshaw.”

And then Bradley is gone and Coyote is staring at Jake, disappointed but not surprised. It was bound to boil over eventually. Coyote knows how Jake feels about you. He knows how much it hurts--how much it’s going to hurt.

“You alright?” Coyote asks.

Jake is standing with his back on the bus, facing the ground, his eyes narrowed and his lips twisted. His fists are clenched and his cheeks are red.

“Is anyone fine?” Jake asks, voice quiet and angry.

“You know what I mean, man,” Coyote says. He sighs, runs his hand along his curls.

They don’t say anything for a long moment.

They’re both just looking around, trying to think of anything to say other than they’re fucked and they’re pissed. Coyote’s searching the room, taking in all the dust and the dirt. He sees the slashed tires. But then something catches his eye--something bright red and small. It’s stuck in the tire, planted there like it belongs.

“The fuck is that?” Coyote whispers.

Jake glances up, follows Coyote’s gaze.

Their mouths go dry identically when they realize what it is.

“Fuck,” Jake whispers. “It’s a Swiss army knife.”

𝐅𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄: HI GUYS..........

𝐌𝐘 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑

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blankiebloo · 1 year

Text

I'll try.

I do realize that I have some things I'm already working on, but this popped into my head and felt a little bit more important to me-

Characters: Childe x Gn!Reader, Venti x Gn!Reader

Warnings: Mentions of depression, cutting, slight mention of a eating disorder

Venti

You two used to hang around each other almost everyday, but recently, he's noticed that you've started to hang around people less and less. He's noticed all of the changes in your behavior: he's noticed that on your days off, you don't seek anyone out anymore, you're actually not seen at all. And when you are around, you look skinnier than before like you haven't been eating; and your eyes are all red too.

He caught you leaving your house on one of your days off for the first time in a while, he was so happy that you left your house that he followed you, he followed you all the way to Starsnatch Cliff and watched as you sat down close to the edge..too close to the edge.

"You know, it isn't safe sitting that close to the edge," he spoke, finally making himself known as he stepped closer to you. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you sat that close on purpose.." his voice was quiet and somber unlike his normal cheery tone.

You turned your head to the side as you watched him sit next to you. He looked at the sky in front of you, his gaze soft and worried. He didn't need you to tell him what was wrong, and he figured that you didn't wish to speak by how quiet you were.

He turned his gaze to your stiff and saddened expression, you looked so tired. "Do you wish to talk to me, my friend? I know I'm no professional but, I'm sure it's better to finally get your feelings out there instead of bottling them up, hm?" He tilted his head, waiting for you to speak or not.

You nodded and looked in front of you, gazing at the horizon but also gazing somewhere far away, some place no one could touch. You opened your mouth, and the words that you spoke instantly made Venti's heart drop, "Venti, I don't want to live anymore." Your expression was so cold and unbothered, it was like what you said was something so normal, something everyone says.

"[Name], what-" he reached out and touched your shoulder only to pull his hand back when you hissed in pain at the touch. "[Name]. Could you show me your shoulder."

His voice sounded so serious, you looked at him and your eyes started to tear up, your lip quivered as you started crying. "Venti, I-I can't do this anymore! It's getting so hard now, I don't want to live like this anymore!" You hid your face in your hands as you continued to sob.

His gaze softened as he continued to look at you, he reached out and pulled you into him and caressed your head. "Live like what?"

"Live how I am!" You yelled into his blouse, grabbing onto it. "I don't want to live hoping that tomorrow will be better only for it to be the same! I want to be happy and be able to calm myself down when I panic, not cut myself to calm down! It gets so hard to continue on living just for the sake of living, what's the point of living if I'm just going to die in the end?"

Venti's heart sank as he held you closer to himself, "[Name], I may not know everything about you and everything that happens in your life, but I promise you, that your life is worth every breathe I have."

His hug got tighter, but it didn’t hurt; you moved your face to look at his and he was already staring at you. "You deserve to live a life full of happiness, [Name]. Promise me that you'll live, promise me that you'll try?"

Tears started to fall faster as you nodded and buried your face into his chest again, sobbing your emotions out as you tried your best to stable yourself.

"I'll try, Venti. I'll try to do it."

He smiled as he kissed the top of your head. The wind had started to pick up as he sat there with you in his arms, slowly swaying back 'nd forth, he need not play any music to calm you down, for the winds played the song of his heart, and it sang out to you, begging for you to hear it and give your life a chance.

You two sat in silence except for your sniffling. You felt him squeeze your arm twice before he says, "I'd still really like to see your shoulders though, [Name]. I need to make sure those cuts don't get infected."

"Alright." You sit up and loosen your shirt a bit so he can check your shoulders, and as he does so you continue to look up and watch as the sun sets, focusing back on that place you see somewhere far away where nobody else can go.

Childe

Usually when you two spar, he'd barely hold back, but you weren't really sparring back with him. You were more like, slowly dogging and practically hitting him very lightly.

"Comrade, are you okay? You don't really seem to be in the sparring mood today," he stopped fighting as soon as he spoke, not wanting you to get distracted and get hurt.

It's like that question just broke you, and you started crying and sniffling. Childe rushed up to you worried, "Hey, hey, it's okay, whats wrong?" He asked as he pulled you into a hug.

"Childe, I...I want you to kill me."

His eyes widened and he pulled away and stared at you, concern, shock, confusion, it was all over his face as he started to question you fairly loud, "Kill you?! Why would I kill you?! Comrade, whats wrong? Why would you ever ask me to do that?"

You started to sob as your fist hit his chest, "Why won't you?! Why won't you just end my suffering already?! You were so willing to before when you mistook me for the traveler! Why not now?!"

He grabbed your wrist with one hand and your chin with the other as he forced you to meet his gaze, "Because I care for you! I don't want you to die, I want you to live out your life to the fullest and make memories!"

He stepped back and took your hands in his. "I want you to take care of yourself."

"But why should I?" Your tone was bitter. "We all live just to die anyways, why not make it go faster?"

Childe looked stunned. His brows furrowed as he spoke again, "You should live because the world always has a place for you to be happy and free. And you just haven't found it yet, and I don't think you should give up, not yet not ever."

"Promise me, that you'll live, that you'll go out and make your mark on peoples lives and make yourself smile. You deserve to be happy."

You wipe your tears off and look to the side. "I can't promise you that. But I'll promise you that I'll try."

"Try?! But, [Name]-"

"I don't like to make promises that I know I'll go back on, that is why I can't promise you anything other than the fact that I'll try. I'll try because you asked me to." You stare into his eyes, your gaze serious and pained.

He sighs and places a hand on your shoulder, "Fine, at least try. Thank you." He kisses your cheek. "Go home and get some rest, Comrade, all that crying can make you tired." He smiles and walks away with a wave.

You place your hand on your shoulder as you watch him walk away, a pitiful and numb smile lays on your face as you speak, "I'll try."

A/N: I know that this won't fit for all people, but this is how I have felt and I took all of the things that reader has said from my own head.

I get that it's hard, and I was just struggling when I came up with idea to write this, but please, at least try. We're all trying and so am I, try because you never know when it might get better.<3

#blank writes!♡#genshin fluff #genshin comfort #genshin x gn!reader #genshin x reader #genshin x you #Childe fluff #Childe comfort #Childe x gn!reader #Childe x reader #Childe x you #Venti fluff #Venti comfort #Venti x gn!reader #Venti x reader #Venti x you

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tenpintsof-sundrop · 2 months

Note

Please say more about Titans’ costumes 🥺

(if you want to)

I literally always want to talk about Titans. Always

There is so much I could say about the costuming alone omg

One thing I absolutely fucking love about the show - specifically about S1 and S2 (and kind of into S3?) - is that each character really has their own distinct style. Each character is so, so well defined by their visual style and it helps add so much to their characterization just by looking at their clothing.

Even side characters like Hank and Dawn (and fuck, I love Hank and Dawn so much) - Dawn's clothing has so much feminine elegance.

I fucking love that Dawn is a character who absolutely reeks femininity without going down the route of styling her in the typical feminine way - and I am not at all bashing traditional femininity when I say this, I just fucking love how Dawn is an example of how femininity can be so obvious without having to use girly pinkness and bows and skirts. She is so clearly meant to be a hyper feminine girly character who loves her femininity, especially with the styling of the apartment that she shares with Hank, but her clothing really drives it home. Even before it's revealed that she was a feminine, light, ballet dancer, you can see it in what she wears - a flawless light blouse, clothes that are so perfectly tailored, light fabrics, everything so well fitted. Wearing heels that are of practical lengths but still making it a point to be flattering and elevated, wearing done-up hairstyles and having her hair brushed over one shoulder in a very princess way.

And I love how all of her clothing falls under the light grey/taupe/steel grey/steel blue palette of the Dove costume and they don't stray from that with her. The only time they do is when they are hinting at her wearing Hank's clothing - like when she wears the heavily oversized black and red letter jacket in 2x02 (that I think Hank was wearing in his college flashback? I think that jacket was literally his college football jacket if my memory serves me correctly)

Speaking of Hank - again, I love how he has his own colour pallet. They often stick to the brick reds, the warmer tones with him - they make his colours very warm and inviting even if his personality isn't always the most warm. But what I fucking love about his clothing is that right from his introduction - his clothing feels grounded. His clothing always feels very working class. He is almost always seen wearing jeans and some kind of flannel, the timerland 'worker' boots, a heavier practical jacket.

I fucking love how he and Dick contrast the two ends of men's low effort, 'casual' clothing. Dick is also seen wearing jeans throughout the show, but Dick's clothing is not at all working class or approachable - even if it's just small touches, like the expensive watch that he's almost always wearing, Dick's clothing is expensive. His jacket's are more tailored (and clearly made out of more expensive materials), he wears button up shirts that are made out of more expensive cotton - and rather than being casual flannels, he wears darker, more serious colours - his shoes are often more expensive and clearly not mean to be 'worked' in.

You can look at Dick and Hank and immediately recognise the wealth gap - the fact that Dick is comfortable with wealth, and Hank is comfortable with the working class and grew up in poverty.

Going back to the colour thing - something I LOOOOOOVE about S1 specifically is the fact that you can clearly see them borrowing each other's clothes. You can see the abrupt disruption in Rachel's black uniform because of the introduction of Dawn's soft grey sweater. Gar's lighter colours are broken up by the introduction of Dick's uniform-like militant grey. Toward the end of the season, Kory's colourful bright wardrobe is broken up by her borrowing Donna's effective purposeful black catsuit - and again, this goes back to my theory about Kory regain her memories but losing her identity, and how she leaned on Donna a lot during this time, and her wearing Donna's clothing immediately after entering this identity crisis to me feels like her using Donna as a safety net when she was in emotional turmoil.

Speaking of Dick's militant colours - in S1, DICK HAS AN OBSESSION WITH UNIFORMS. I was going to make a separate post about this but I accidentally deleted the draft lmao. He goes from wearing his detective uniform to wearing an outfit that is almost military-esque (the grey henley style shirt and the cargo pants) - an outfit that is clearly meant to be practical rather than express any personal style, but it inadvertently expresses a heap of emotions from him: he feels like he does not have an identity outside of who he was with Bruce.

When he talks about his time with Bruce to Kory, Gar, and Rachel - he calls it 'military training'. And it's clear that's what he thinks of it now - not a family, not a father figure - he thinks that he was being trained as a weapon, and now that his training is over, he doesn't know what to do with himself. So he puts on his uniform to go into work and be a detective, and when he's not doing that, he wears a uniform because he doesn't have a sense of self otherwise.

BUT in S2, when he feels more comfortable returning home to Bruce (after he's confronted his demons through the Trigon hallucinations), he is wearing a very nice outfit that is more representative of wealth. Likely something that Bruce would have dressed him in - and this is the kind of clothing we see him wearing for the rest of the show that seems a lot more indicative of his personal style through the rest of the show. As if he was previously afraid to gravitate toward this kind of style because he was afraid that he was becoming too much like Bruce, he was enjoying the wealth too much - that Bruce was never a true father to him because he 'paid' for Dick's affection (as we see in the flashback with the closet full of expensive clothing that is waiting for Dick when he arrives).

It's a very interesting thing to breakdown.

Anyway, that's all my brain has for now lmao. But I always loooooove talking about Titans and analysing it. Not just the costumes but any aspect of the whole show. This show is like - my house

#beginnerblueglass #interactions #sundrop answers #dc titans #dick grayson #hbo titans #titans #hank hall #dawn granger #nightwing

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bullet-prooflove · 1 year

Text

Surprises - Brian Zvonecek x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @justmeandanoverdrive @cosmic-psychickitty @shay-o-fiction @k-k0129 @brianbabygirlzvonecek @ikbenplant @ortega29 @crazy4chickennuggets @neapolitantoebeans @cixrosie @bradshawsdarlin @horny-and-sad27 @gummybabey @mysoulisasunflower @luckyladycreator2 @kabloswrld @persage @whoreforhondo @anime-weeb-4-life @issac918 @99-reasons-to-live @witches-unruly-heart @infinity-mars @cupids-lover @upsteadlogic @genius2050

Brian was grinning when you stepped inside your home. He discarded your bags instantly, dropping them by the door before he strode towards the bed and flopped down upon it, hands behind his head as he starred up at the ceiling. You had missed him, his ability to make everything that little bit brighter. Two weeks, back home with your parents was almost long enough to send you demented.

It filled you with contentment as you watched him prop himself up on his elbows, a mischievous grin spreading across his handsome features as those eyes fixated on you. He patted the cream-coloured bed sheets beside raising his eyebrows in that manner that showed every one of his intentions.

"So, we're having one of those moments are we?" You asked as you slinked up towards your husband with slow purposeful movements.

Your fingers were already undoing the buttons of the blouse you were wearing until it hung open revealing a lacy scarlet red bra that extenuated every single one of your assets. It made your skin glow in the fading light from the orange sunset as you stripped the material from your shoulders, letting it flutter to the floor.

"I haven't seen that before." Brian commented, shifting on the bed as his erection sprung to life within the confines of his jeans.

You placed your hands on his knees as you leaned in close enough to kiss his finely sculptured lips. The air was rife with anticipation as you stared into Brian’s intense dark eyes, your hand cupped his arousal through his jeans, stroking over his stiffening cock through the denim. Brian arched into your touch as you watched his facial expressions closely, judging how every single ministration affected him.

"There's a lot of new things you haven't seen." You whispered, your lips brushing his with the briefest of touches as you spoke. "I went lingerie shopping and bought all sorts of new and interesting things."

"I would like to see all of them." Brian told you hissing in relief as you unzipped his fly, releasing his throbbing dick.

"You’re the only man who'll ever get to see them." You promised, the light tickle of your breath in his ear causing a long hot thrill to chase through him.

Your fingers curled around his demanding cock, creating a tight ring around the base. Brian let out a low groan of approval as your hand began to move up and down his shaft.

"It turns me on seeing you like this, knowing how much you want me." You told him, your teeth grazed his earlobe, sending his blistering flesh into a delicious frenzy.

"I haven't even seen the panties yet." he breathed as you nuzzled the curve of his throat.

He whined as you withdrew. You grasped his wrist, guiding it down towards his leaking dick, before you wrapped his own fingers around it

"I want you to show me how much you like what you see." You told him.

Your eyes were bright with excitement as his lips quirked up into that deviant smile. That was the thing about Brian, he made you feel so confident and erotic. You had never been an exhibitionist before but Brian made you feel beautiful and empowered in ways you had never considered possible.

Brian had never seen something so tantalising as he watched you undo your zipper before shimmying out of those clinging black jeans. The matching scarlet thong barely covered anything, leaving his imagination rampant at all the possibilities ahead of him. He was jerking his cock already, his body was flushing with heat as he arched into his own rough hand.

You turned your back upon him, casting a sultry glance over your shoulder. Your smouldering gaze was enough to make him want to reach out and touch you but he didn’t. This was your game, he played by your rules.

That gorgeous ass of yours was on display, another one of his favourite assets. The thong made it look even more enticing and Brian bit down on his lower lip to stifle the moan that escaped his throat as he imagined running his hands over that firm, smooth flesh. Your fingers curved around the tiny waistband before you removed the panties in the risqué manner he had ever seen.

His breathing was hitching, and it was music to your ears as you removed the bra too before turning to face Brian completely naked.

"Get undressed."

It was a simple command, one that Brian obeyed as quickly as he could. His shirt was barely off his shoulders before you were pushing him onto his back your thighs straddling his waist.

This was you at your finest. Inventive, dynamic, all self-assured.

Brian let out a loud hoarse cry, his head tipping back into the sheets in rapture as you sunk down on his aching cock in one fluid motion. His hands enclosed on your hips as you began to rotate them keeping him taut deep inside her. His features contorted in ecstasy as your hands swept all over his firm chest, nails raking lightly over his skin. You rode him harder, driving his throbbing cock into your tightening wetness with short, rapid thrusts. His fingertips were gripped your waist as he ground his teeth together, struggling to fight off the overwhelming tingling in his lower back as it threatened to consume him. He was so God damn close, it killed him.

You exploded like a star, blossoming before his eyes. Your head tilted back, hair tumbling down your naked back as you called out his name in a haze of sheer euphoria. Just the sight of you at the height of orgasm tipped him straight over the edge and into oblivion. His whole entire body jerked from the force of the release as it tore through him like a rogue firework popping and sizzling over every single one of his synapses. He said your name like a prayer before you swooped down to his level and stifled his wanton noises by kissing his delectable mouth.

His hands were on your skin, caressing down the length of your spine and gracing your body as your tongue dipped into his mouth. He could feel his heart beating against yours as your head came to rest on the muscular curve of his shoulder. He gathered you up in his strong arms, your bare legs entwined, your feet rubbing against Brian's in that familiar reassuring gesture.

"You've been holding out on me." he breathed against your hairline.

Your laugh vibrated against his chest causing him to smile at the symphony in his ears. You had no idea what it meant to him to hear that sound.

“Oh Brian, I’m full of surprises.”

Love Brian? Get added to his tag list!

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#brian zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek imagine #brian otis zvonecek x reader #brian otis zvonecek #brian zvonecek #brian zvonecek x reader #brian zvonecek x you

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1rsoldiersince2012 · 9 months

Text

Bound by Law (Matt Murdock x Reader)

One last chapter of 2023! Grateful for this journey and hopefully I'll get fresh ideas for the upcoming chapters🫶🥳

42. Field Day

"Oh, what are you wearing today?" Matt asks as he leans on the threshold of his bathroom, standing half naked, only in his sweats. You look at him in the mirror as you put on your mascara, eyes falling on the bright white bandages. Matt listens to the subtle soft brushing on your eyelashes and a soft smile appears on his lips.

"Uh, nothing special, a skirt, blouse and jacket." You reply, as you fix your pearl necklace that you brought with your fresh clothes to Matt's place last night. You rarely wore pearls, but today seemed like a good day for showing them to the world. By 'world' meaning a tiny interrogation office in the FBI headquarters downtown.

"What color?" He doesn't hesitate to ask, coming next to you.

"Well, my skirt is black, as is my jacket..." Matt touches your clothes, sliding his fingers along the cut of your blouse. From the soft feeling of it - silk. "And what you're touching... Is red." You reply with a deep breath, and your skin gets covered in goosebumps from his delicate touch on the exposed skin of your chest.

His finger hooks up on your pearls, and he tilts his head to the side. "Huh, this wasn't there last night."

You smirk, "A lot wasn't there last night, Murdock."

Matt laughs, burying his face in your chest and kisses just below the necklace. "You better get going, or I'm gonna leave you with nothing on right now."

"Shut up," you laugh, pulling his face away and softly kissing his lips. "Do you want me to change your bandages?" You ask, turning your head to the mirror to watch him engulf you into a hug. His hands were your heaven, and his chest pressed to your body made your heart flutter. Matt shakes his head negative and gives you one last peck.

"Go, kick their asses."

"Yeah, sure, I'll do that." You grab your stuff from the bathroom and drop it into the bag, taking your jacket and your coat with you. "I'll call after the session. Probably. Take care!" You hurry out, suddenly weirded out by the situation. It wasn't weird to spend the night with Matt and tend to his terrible wounds, that were still questionable, and it wasn't weird to leave his apartment with fresh clothes that you've brought last night. On purpose. Yet, it felt weird to have such a domestic interaction with someone after such a long time... Maybe you've forgotten what it was like being in a relationship. Is this what it is? Relationship? With the man you're sharing the office? Anyway, this wasn't important now, not when you were already heading to the building filled with feds.

***

You watch Dex fix his gun in the holster, but quickly it becomes hidden under his jacket. It felt strange to see him in a formal suit rather than a windbreaker, and for some reason it looked as if he actually put effort in dressing up today and styled his hair as well. Is he trying to impress someone in the interrogation room?

"Care to join me for a coffee after the session?" He asks, looking at you intently, waiting for any kind of twitch of muscles in your face, yet you remain standing with your best poker face. "I'm pretty sure that this will take the whole day and more than one break."

"That depends, agent." You blink slowly, "On how frustrated with the FBI I will be."

He smirks, looking down at you - your red silk blouse, oh how he wanted to feel it sliding between his fingers... And your pearls. He didn't notice them yesterday. Or maybe you put them on only for him? Dex was quick to assume the wrong things. Although, he was even quicker to become obsessed with someone new. And currently, your crimson red lipstick was stirring something in him.

"It's strange seeing you without the FBI jacket." You comment, sparing Dex a brief glance but mostly keeping your eyes up front.

"Why?" He asks, pushing his hands into his pockets, and escapes from being caught staring just by pure luck.

"You look... Less of an asshole."

He laughs, this time the sound leaving his chest sounds more genuine. "The nicest thing a lawyer has ever said to me."

"Well, that just proves that others had no chance of winning against the FBI." You shrug, finally noticing the interrogation room, your only salvation.

"And you think you're going to win?" He ridicules, nodding to a nearby standing officer.

"I think luck is on my side today, Agent Poindexter." You step inside first, noticing your client already sitting at the square made of many tables pushed together. The distance between one side and the other were only a few steps, but it was enough to see the opposition's legs under the table. Smart move if you want to know when someone's nervously tapping their legs.

***

The first session went terribly. The FBI obviously worked overnight to gather all the evidence against Michael, and you could only sit there and listen to one of the agents talking. Agent Nadeem, you recalled his name. His soft tone was enough to put someone to sleep, yet you had no time to think about sleep. He asked a couple of questions, including "is this correct information, Mr Teneke?" and "am I right, Mr Teneke?" To which you had to respond, "my client will refrain from answering, Agent."

Dex was staring. A lot. It helped a bit that you and Teneke sat side by side, so he could defend himself and say that he was watching Teneke, not you. The scowl on your face wasn't pretty. No, it made you look older and ruined your soft appearance, it contrasted with your voice. You were gripping the pen tightly, and Dex could only think of how it would feel to have you gripping the collar of his white shirt like that. He was losing his mind, but now he liked being on the opposite side, watching you struggle. Yet, he wanted to sit there close to you, instead of that scumbag thief Teneke. Oh, how he wanted to inhale your perfume, mixed with a faint smell of cigarettes. He hated smokers in general, but for you, he'd make an exception. You cross your legs under the table, and he looks at them lustfully. Oh, how he wanted to grip your thigh and squeeze the flesh until his hand would leave an imprint there forever-

"Dex, are you coming?" Ray asks, tapping Dex on the shoulder.

"Yeah." The latter answers, not particularly happy about his train of thought getting disturbed.

"You should've told me more than what you did in the office." You scold Michael outside in the corridor, crossing your arms.

"I didn't know it was this serious, y/l/n."

You almost grunt out of frustration. "Okay, okay, we can still solve this. We can ask for a review... Tomorrow. I'll have the main points written down today and... We'll get you out."

"We?"

"Yeah... I guess it's time to bring the band back together. I'll just have to make a call... Excuse me." You leave Teneke alone, walking a couple of feet away.

Dex and Ray emerge from the corner, passing by you and Dex overhears your last words, "great, I'll transfer the money as soon as possible. Can this make it to today's issue? Oh, amazing, thank you!" You say to whoever is on the other side and turn around just in time to meet Dex's chest, yet he's quicker and stops you by your shoulders. "Oh, sorry, didn't see you... Agents." You step away from Dex's hands, foreign and cold, looking at Ray.

"Busy day?" Ray smiles kindly. A guy like him didn't belong to the FBI.

"Well, you certainly are not making it easier." You turn on your heel and leave, typing Matt a message.

"You're going to ask for a review, aren't you?" Ray rubs his chin in thought, making your movements come to a halt.

"Is it that obvious?" You scoff slightly, turning back to look at the two men. Dex's eyes feel like lasers piercing through your bones. "Perhaps if you're not asking the FBI for a review, you don't really care about your client. And I care about my clients."

Agent Nadeem smiles, crossing his arms, "hey, didn't you work at Chao's? I think I can certainly recall your face on one of the billboards," he turns to Dex, nudging his arm, "wasn't there some words written?"

You feel your face getting redder with the rising anger; Dex thinks for a second, then his face lights up, "Yeah, something 'Here for your truth. The team of the people.', right?"

"Wait, weren't you the one who got attacked by that freak in a suit?" Nadeem chimes in, and you scrunch your nose in the disgust of the memories.

"Today isn't about me, gentlemen, now if you'll excuse me, I must speak with my client." You make your way to Teneke, exhaling with a relief when Ray and Dex disappear from the corridor.

"Bad news?" Teneke asks, thinking that agents told you something about him, but you shake your head.

"No, don't worry. Come on, we'll have to work on something for today so they won't eat you alive."

***

"Matt, I don't know, the feds want to pin everything on him, but I know that he was just frightened by the Russians and had to help them launder the money." You slump in Matt's chair, and look at him sitting in yours, wearing a black hoodie and tracksuit trousers. He was gripping his folded walking stick in his hands tightly, listening to every word you've read and said about the case. Your voice was calm and slightly hoarse since yesterday...when you were screaming his name into the back of your hand...

Matt shakes his head, shaking the dirty thoughts away. "I don't know, there are no documents to prove his innocence, the Russians must've threatened him verbally."

"Well, the Jury isn't going to believe him, because no one fucking talks about the Russians out loud. We could try-" you get interrupted by the sound of the swinging front door of Nelson and Murdock.

"What the hell, y/n? Is this your-" Foggy barges inside, holding a wet newspaper in his hand, and stops in front of your office when he notices that you're not alone.

Matt shifts in the chair uncomfortably, furrowing his eyebrows. You lean back in Matt's chair, folding your arms on your knee. "Good evening to you too, Foggy."

"What is the meaning of this?" He waves the newspaper in the air again, then drops it on your case documents, surely making them wet. You don't move a muscle, casting one look at the open page. 'Nelson and Murdock Attorneys at Law are offering justice at an affordable price? We guarantee you a fair and safe deal?'

"It sounds nice, doesn't it?" You smile slightly, proud of your work. "Would be good to hang that sign outside, don't you think?"

"Y/n, I don't know what do you think you're doing here but I will not step in here when this liar is in the same building." Foggy bites, giving Matt a pained look.

Matt jumps from his seat, "You say that again-"

"Hey!" You raise your voice slightly, standing up as well. "I don't care about what happened between the two of you, but we have work to do. And will continue to get more, but now I need your help with my case. So if you could make truce for this one evening, I will... Gladly accept your help." You finish awkwardly, slumping back in the chair.

Foggy hesitates to say anything, instead, Matt begins, "I didn't know it was her plan to get us here tonight. Clever move." Your lips slightly twitch, but you don't smile, not yet. "But if you want me to stay... You're gonna tell Foggy what you told me yesterday. About Fisk." You open your mouth to object, but Matt beats you to it, "Every detail."

"Fine. Take a seat."

***

"You're mad at me, aren't you?" You say, walking side by side with Matt to your car. The rain has stopped long time ago, the city was quiet and empty. After all, it was past 2 AM. You glance at Matt and pull out a cigarette.

"Maybe." He responds, but then sighs loudly. "I understand your intentions... But I don't think I'm ready to go back to work... With Foggy."

"You know, Foggy will come around. I'm like a 90 percent sure you will too." You puff out a cloud of smoke. "You two can't be separated for long."

Matt smiles slightly, then touches your shoulder, "I have to go. Good luck tomorrow... Today I mean, it's already after midnight."

"I'll see you, yeah?" You close your eyes when his hand gently squeezes you.

"Yeah." He whispers and pulls away, disappearing into the night.

"Yeah, he's not going to forgive that one." You scoff to yourself and get in your car, driving home.

#matt murdock #marvel daredevil #foggy nelson #matt murdock x reader #bound by law #netflix daredevil #matts superhearing complicates things for you #lawyers #daredevil #marvel #benjamin poindexter #ray nadeem

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prescottsgirl · 1 year

Text

DRESS

sidney prescott x fem!reader

summary: sidney can’t take her eyes off that new dress that you’re wearing. she was soon to find out that you only bought it for the sole reason of her taking it off you.

warning: heavy making out and a little bit of sensual talking but that’s as far as it goes sorry babes

note: a songfic of dress by taylor swift :)

Sidney couldn't believe you were dressed like that. You weren't someone to that much skin unless you were in the comfort of your own home with her. It, if she were being honest, turned her on that you looked that good for everyone to see but only she could have you.

Little to her understanding, you only bought this dress for the sole reason to impress her. You knew she always thought you were beautiful, even with just a sweatshirt on. She always made sure to show that.

The dress was tight fitting and black, highlighting the best parts of your body. It stopped mid-thigh with a slit on the side. Sidney couldn't stop staring at your chest; how low the cut of the dress was.

Sidney didn't even have an appetite for her meal in front of her. The dim lighting of the restaurant highlighting your jawline made her want to just throw herself across the table and start marking you as hers right here, right now.

Made your mark on me, a golden tattoo.

But she noticed the way that you purposely took your time eating, letting her eagerly wait for you. You watched her fingers wrap around her wine glass, slowly taking as sip as she maintained eye contact with you. She was clearly trying to tease you right back.

When the check finally came to the table, she whipped out her cash and placed it down on the table. To call her fast would be an understatement. She probably overpaid too, but she was too occupied to count all those bills.

You both rushed into the car, and she would've took you right here, but she wanted to take her time with you, as impatient as she was.

Her knuckles turn white from her grip on the steering wheel. You smile at her, and she can feel your gaze, so she takes one hand off and places it on your thigh.

As soon as you make it in the house, Sidney's pinning you against the closed front door. She leans forward to kiss you. It's so hot, you could've melted from the heat boiling between you both. Her antsy hands against your waist channel every bit of anticipation.

"God you look so fucking beautiful," she says messily, drunk on you already. Your hands wrap around her body and slip her coat off of her shoulders, throwing it down onto the ground.

She takes this as the time to grab your hand and bring you into the bedroom. Even though nobody else lives here, she still shuts the door. "That dress is so gorgeous on you," she says, just observing your body under the dimmed light.

Your cheeks burn a bright shade of red and you feel a little dizzy from this all. "Oh baby, are you blushing? my pretty girl wore this just to impress me, didn't she?"

You get closer to her, bringing your lips up to her ear, enough to brush against the flesh there as you spoke, "mhm. I only bought it so you can take it off."

Now she's the one feeling hot. She kisses you again, full of desire and excitement. And all of a sudden her hands are on your back, unzipping your dress. Goosebumps arise all over your body as her cold hands merely brush against you skin.

She sneaks her fingers under the thin straps and lets the entire piece fall to the ground in a pile at your feet. The cold air touching your bare skin makes you shiver but then her body's rubbing against yours again as she kisses you and you're not so cold anymore.

You tug at the hem of her blouse a couple times before ripping it off above her head. She lightly pushes you back until you fall onto the bed. She looks down at you as she rips her jeans off, climbing back on as quick as she can. Neither of you can get enough of each other.

You reach your hand up to squeeze her covered breast and she throws her head back, mouth wide open. "Fuck, y/n," she says breathily, craving more of your wandering hands.

Carve your name into my bedpost.

But instead, she pins your hands above your head and stares down at you, right into your hazy eyes, her face only mere inches apart from yours. You're not sure if the wine you're smelling is off of her or yourself, you just know it's completely going to your head.

"Staring problem?" you tease and tuck her hair behind her ear so you can see your favorite face better.

She bites down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood but she doesn't even realize it. "I can't help it, you're so pretty like this.” You’re sure your hairs all messy and tangled at this point, your makeup’s most likely smudged, but even in your worst times, she sees the best of you.

She moves down your body, kissing from your chest right to your belly button, lightly dragging her nails along with her on your sides. “My gorgeous girl. All mine.”

As you look down at her, leaning up on your elbows, you realize that buying that dress wasn’t such an awful idea.

#sidney prescott #neve campbell #scream #wlw #scream 1996 #scream 2 #scream 3 #scream 4 #scream 5 #lesbian #sidney prescott x reader #neve campbell x reader #scream fanfic #sidney prescott fanfic #songfic #dress taylor swift

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

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Miss firefly, could we have a snack peak to the next part of OFTM? Pretty please, I'm so damn desperate and excited 😭😭😭 it's the only thing keeping me alive atm....

PLS HAHAHA well since you asked so nicely and since we absolutely do want you alive...

“Show me,” he repeats. “Let me make sure they’re healing right.”

A ruse if you’ve ever heard one, but you can’t deny the small inkling of intrigue as you reach for the buttons on your blouse.

You pop them free, slow, and deliberately as he watches. The office is quiet but the tension in the air is palpable.

When you get to the last one, something in his expression shifts.

“Peach…” he begins slowly, almost as if warning you.

Your smile is innocent.

His large hands outstretch for the silky shirt, gingerly pushing it back and down your shoulders until your torso is revealed to him.

The air is cool against your bare chest, your nipples even more prominent now with the delicate jewelry catching the light outside his large window. It sends yet another shiver rippling across your nervous system as you twitch beneath his touch.

He hums. “Think you forgot something,” he muses, steady palms ghosting over your ribcage.

“What? Oh, yeah.” Your voice is nonchalant and blasé. “Well, you said loose fitting clothes. Thought wearing something so…tight would defeat the purpose.”

He’s amused. “So you came into my office with no bra, hm?”

“Seems like I did.”

He begins to pull you closer, legs parting to create the space you need to stand. “And how do they feel?”

#harry styles #harry #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles blurb #one for the money #ceo!harry

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ranchracoon · 6 months

Text

CH. 5 The Summer Festival

Every day since the incident you've had this odd feeling of someone or something hovering over your shoulder; the first day after the Dimitrescus left you were jumpy over every sound. It wasn't the same feeling that you had before, it didn't feel threatening or off, it was as if a shadow was following just outside of your vision. It was always at inconvenient times too; just as you would get sucked into your duties you would feel your watcher. Once you were convinced that nothing was going to happen, you tried to sing, hum, anything to distract yourself but Angie would only yell at you to be quiet. Instead, you decided to make it a game; you would search every nook and cranny for where the lord could possibly watch you from: including the bathroom but thankfully you never felt uneasy in there. When you felt the familiar eyes on you, you would purposely get yourself into questionable positions to try and lure them out.

You groaned with your latest failure as the pain shot through your body. You weren't a clumsy person but you had hoped if you fell from a chair or something, that would work. Every attempt over the week failed, you started to think you actually became clumsy. Now it was Friday and you were no closer to your goal and it was starting to frustrate you greatly. Creaking above your head caught your attention, you glanced up toward the stairs not seeing anyone and you growled under your breath.

"If you're going to spy on me you might as well show yourself like a man!" You snapped.

"Last I checked I wasn't a man, but I'll accept it either way."

Angie rounded the corner and scowled at you, you cleared your throat and held your hands behind your back. You tilted your head at her and saw she was dressed in a bright blue dress with flowers braided into her hair. Her scowl turned upwards into a smile, something you rarely saw, as she clapped her hands together.

"Are you ready to go?" She asked.

"Go?" You replied.

"To the festival! My you're dense." She mumbled.

"I'm not going."

"Oh yes you are. Now get changed and come along before I drag you by your ear."

You groaned loudly in protest but you placed down your supplies and went upstairs to change out of your sweaty clothes. You came downstairs in a flared blouse tucked into trousers and some hand-me-down boots that Angie graciously threw at your head. Angie looked you up and down then reached into the bag hanging from her arm. She took out a wreath of sunflowers to place on top of your head then tapped your shoulder in approval. The walk to the festival was quiet, the air was sweet and carried a cooler bite with it that breezed through your hair. As you approached closer to the center of the village, music faintly swelled to your ears, and you lifted your nose to smell the aroma of food. Your stomach growled loudly as you licked your lips and hurried your pace toward the gate.

Angie was close on your heels as you caught the scene of the festival, lanterns lit the walkway all the way down to the maiden statue. Stalls decorated each side of the road with people surrounding them, your eyes widened at the sight and your mouth watered at the smells. The village looked completely different, whilst it was usually dull and gray it now bloomed with vibrant yellows, oranges, and life.

"Wow! This is amazing! Look at all the food and vendors." You beamed.

"Have you ever been to a festival?" Angie asked.

"No.." You whispered.

Three familiar squeals caught your attention as you looked over at the Dimitrescu sisters who ran over to you. Daniela and Bela looked gorgeous in their green and red dresses that had long trails of feathers behind them, Cassandra wore a dashing golden suit of similar design. Daniela hugged you tightly and you chuckled as you hugged back then looked at the other two. Bela and Cassandra walked with Angie as you and Daniela chatted toward the stalls. Angie tapped your shoulder and placed some lei in your palm, you eyed her before giving her a soft smile. You waved at the Duke who had a line around the corner, he smiled and waved back while you nodded your head to the music. Angie left the four of you alone to go do whatever she usually did. Daniela shared a cloak she had on with you so that you also looked dressed up.

"Hey Y/N!"

"Uck." Responded Cassandra.

You groaned in annoyance.

"Why won't he leave me alone?" You complained.

"He didn't leave us alone for a long time until mother threatened Mr Moreau that he wouldn't have an heir anymore." Snickered Daniela.

Salvatore approached you with his hands in his pockets, he had on a bright green suit with a yellow vest and his house crest pinned to the lapel. He must not own anything that isn't green, you thought. He cleared his throat and fixed his vest then ran a hand over his slicked back hair.

"Evening ladies. Good evening Y/N, I'm glad you could make it. I thought Lord Beneviento wouldn't let you come?" He pried.

"I said they wouldn't like it. Never said they wouldn't let me come. Maybe you should listen better." You retorted.

Cassandra snickered which earned a glare from Salvatore but it quickly turned back into his creepy smile.

"Well, care to join me in a dance and some food? I'd be honored to have you as my evening partner." He bowed and attempted to take your hand but you pulled it back before he could.

"Actually, I'm here with someone already." You replied.

He stood upright and furrowed his brows and pursed his lips, "yeah? Who?" He challenged.

"Bela." You said quickly as you grabbed her arm.

Bela looked down at you then Salvatore before she leaned into your side, her hips pressed against yours. The lines on Salvatore's forehead pulsed, his jaw clenched, and his face turned a light red. He looked like a child about to throw a tantrum.

"Okay then...maybe we could go on a date some other time. Could we do that? I'd love to take you out on my boat." He said forcefully.

"I would never get on a boat alone with you. Besides, I have duties to Lord Beneviento and I can't leave whenever I want." You muttered.

"You can't use him as an excuse for everything. You're your own person, he doesn't own you! You just work for him, and must have a day off at some point to come out with me. What's the problem?" He yelled.

"Back off Salvatore. If I had a sickle I would slice your jugular and watch you bleed out." Threatened Bela.

"I thought Daniela was the crazy one." He spat.

"Who do you think gave her the idea?" Daniela added.

Salvatore growled under his breath before he turned on his heels and stomped away. You sighed relieved and released Bela's arm as you thanked them for getting him away from you.

"No need to thank us, Salvatore has always been a creep. Then again, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. His father had been trying to woo our mother for years despite her being out since forever, even Mother Miranda had to intervene." Bela sighed.

"What happened to his mom?" You asked.

"Mr Moreau killed her and dumped her body in the bay." Cassandra answered casually.

Bela smacked her arm, "that's not true and you know it." She turned to you and her voice softened, "she disappeared one night and no one has seen her since."

"She's definitely at the bottom of the lake." Whispered Daniela as she nudged your arm.

An announcer tapped the microphone to get everyone's attention. The feedback whistled and whined loudly before dying out.

"Good evening everyone! Please put your hands together Lady Dimitrescu!"

Everyone clapped as Alcina walked up the stage, you gasped softly and your jaw dropped. You didn't think she could get more beautiful but she proved you wrong. She wore a feathered dress where the mixture of colors made it look as though she dragged fire behind her. Her shoulders were exposed, and her neck was adorned with pearls that drew attention to her defined collarbone. Her black hair was curled and framed her face perfectly. Alcina took the microphone in her hand, her smile radiated and dazzled like the lanterns above her.

"Thank you all for being here, now for the official opening of the summer festival so please find your dancing partner and meet on the dance floor."

You glanced over toward the sisters as Cassandra left and greeted a young brunette woman dressed in a yellow dress with sunflowers braided into her hair. Daniela took off running through the crowd and when she returned she was dragging a woman with black hair that looked lightly blue. She wasn't dressed up and covered head to toe in flour, but she smiled brightly behind Daniela. Daniela winked at you as she embraced the woman close to her, Bela remained by your side.

"Mind if I have this dance?" She asked politely.

You smiled brightly and nodded, you took her hand and followed her to the platform as her mother started singing. Her voice echoed throughout the entire village, it was smooth but raspy and deeper than her talking voice, very clearly a trained singer. Bela and you swayed to the music, she pushed you out and spun you around then back to her. You smiled and laughed when you returned to her, she wrapped her arms around your waist and you rested yours on her shoulders.

"So Bela, why didn't you have a dancing partner?"

"What do you mean? I have one right now." She answered.

"Before me." You rolled your eyes.

"Well....I never really cared for courting or dating. People have tried but, I've never felt any kind of attraction toward them. It wouldn't be fair to drag someone along if you're not fully committed. It's a blessing in disguise I suppose."

"Why do you say that?"

Bela chuckled humorously, "I'm to take over the Dimitrescu winery once my mother steps down. I've only seen a sliver of how much work she does so I wouldn't have time to date even if I wanted to. I don't mind though, I only hope my sisters find someone who treats them right.."

You hummed in thought but remained silent for the rest of the dance, goosebumps rose on your skin and you shivered. You glanced around until you caught Salvatore glaring at you and Bela, you furrowed your brow and turned back to Bela, trying to ignore the shivers of discomfort. The song ended and everyone clapped again, your stomach growled loudly which made Bela laugh and offer to go get something to eat. After looking at each stall you decided on a large bowl of noodles with meat and vegetables on top. Bela got the same, and the two of you stood next to a table to eat, Daniela and Cassandra joined shortly after; each of them had their own food as the music shifted again.

"So...tell me about your dancing partners." You started as you wiggled your eyebrows.

"Oh.." Daniela blushed, "well, that was Ina. We've been seeing each other for sometime now, I think it's getting serious." She sipped her drink.

Cassandra rolled her eyes, "they've been dating for two weeks. She always thinks it's serious."

"Well, who were you dancing with then Cassandra?" You smirked.

Cassandra coughed into her hand, "oh that...that was Johanna. She works with the blacksmith."

"And, Cassandra has had the hots for her since they were in elementary school but won't ask her out officially." Bela chided.

As the evening progressed you laughed with the sisters as they told you stories about them and you returned with stories from home. The bell struck eight times and you decided to searched around the non-food stalls located down one of the village streets. Jewelry, home brewed alcohol, potted plants, toys, you name it and it was there. You stared at the plants for a long period of time then glanced at the remaining lei in your hand, after a long time deciding you picked a bright red flower. You paid the woman some lei then tilted your head at some seedlings.

"You wouldn't happen to have something viney? That could climb up some wooden structures?" You asked her.

The woman tapped her chin before she snapped her fingers and searched near the back of her stall. She came back with two little seedlings with a picture of purple flowers attached. Out front of the manor were a few tent-looking structures made from wood, these would look perfect growing around them. The woman handed them to you but you refused, you had no more money. She insisted and you thanked her profusely until you heard Angie calling you. You trotted off until you found her and accompanied her back to the manor with the plants hugged against your chest.

Back at the manor you placed the seedlings in the backroom where they would get plenty of sunlight. You eyed the red flower, a thought crossed your mind and you smirked to yourself as you picked up the flower and walked to the elevator. At the bottom you walked through the kitchen and stopped in front of the lord's bedroom, hesitantly you knocked on the door and awaited some kind of response. Of course, nothing came, so you sighed heavily and placed the flower in front of the door.

#resident evil village #re8 #alcina dimitrescu #cassandra dimitrescu #daniela dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #bela dimitrescu #dimitrescu sisters #donna beneviento #donna benevento x reader #alternate universe

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