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slu7formen · 2 months

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MDNI. luke x fem!reader

you and Luke end up stuck in the same motel room on a mission, but as he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible, he ends up with you sitting on his lap and moaning his name.

warnings: enemies to lovers (?, reader’s godly parent is not mentioned, CLASSIC share-the-same-bed prompt, cussing, clothed s3x, pet names, teasing, kinda virgin!luke, dom!luke for a sec, luke sees reader in her underwear

reminder: english’s not my first language so I apologize for any spelling mistakes

₊˚⊹♡

The groan of the rusty –stolen– car door echoed in the woods like a death knell. You slammed it shut with a wince, the throbbing ache in your shoulder protesting the movement as you placed your bag on it. The vehicle now lay crumpled against a giant redwood, a testament to the gigantic beast you'd just barely managed to outrun before Percy took take of it with Anaklusmos.

And him, ever the optimist, managed a weak attempt at sarcasm. "Well, that went great, don´t you think?" he muttered to you, his voice laced with exhaustion. A fresh cut adorned his cheek, a reminder of his near-death experience, from their recent encounter.

Luke, face dirty and torso sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the exhaustion etched on his face. Dirt smudged his usually perfect features, and sweat plastered his black hair to his forehead, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl at camp. On you, however, it just fueled the simmering fire inside you that made you want to punch his face.

He slung his worn backpack over one shoulder, the weight of responsibility and fatigue pulling him down.

"Remind me not to let you drive again. Ever." he said to you, his voice laced with a mocking lilt.

You rolled your eyes, the familiar irritation sparking within you. "Oh, give me a break" you spat back, hands on your hips. "I'm the only one with a license here, genius."

"Is your license useful when it comes to a stolen car, genius?" he replied, voice lowering to match his mockery and a punchable smirk playing on his lips. He really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both staring down the barrel of another night on the run, another night without a decent meal or a good night's sleep.

"At least I can drive" you countered, ignoring the prickle of annoyance that ran down your spine. "Besides, who else would have gotten us this far? You?" You gestured towards the flickering neon sign of a ramshackle motel in the distance, a beacon of hope in the gathering darkness.

"Enough" Annabeth said, her voice firm despite the tiredness in her tone. "You two can fight later, but right now, we need to find somewhere to stay. I am not spending another night sleeping on a tree"

With a determined stomp, she marched towards the side of the road. You and Luke both took a step forward at the same time, then stopped, locked in a silent battle of who would yield. You mockingly straightened your arm towards Annabeth's path. "Ladies first" you said to him.

He squinted his eyes playfully as he walked past you. “Very mature” he muttered.

The flickering neon sign cut through the twilight like a neon lifeline as you walked. ‘The Sun n' Sands Motel’ proclaimed in faded glory, the letters crooked and the sun sporting a single, sad-looking ray. It wasn't the exactly luxury, but after days on the run, a crumpled car, and a near-death encounter with a creature straight out of your worst nightmares, this place looked like a five-star resort.

"Finally" you sighed, relief washing over you in waves. You could practically smell the promise of clean sheets and a bed that didn't groan ominously with every movement. And a shower. Gods, you craved that.

Pushing open the glass door, you were greeted with a musty scent that hung in the air like a forgotten memory. The lobby was small and poorly decorated, the faded floral wallpaper clashing horrendously with the worn brown carpeting. Behind a chipped counter sat a woman whose age defied easy categorization. Her hair, the color of tarnished silver, was pulled back in a tight bun, emphasizing the deep lines etched around her eyes. She sat engrossed in a beauty magazine, oblivious to the four weary demigods who had just entered.

With a sigh that condensed the exhaustion of your entire journey, you approached the counter. Slamming a wad of crumpled bills onto the counter, you declared, "Rooms for four, please."

Percy shuffled behind you, his eyes flitting around the room with a mix of curiosity and apprehension. Annabeth scanned the lobby for any signs of potential danger, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her dagger.

The woman finally looked up, her gaze lingering on you for too long before flickering to the rest of your group. A slow smile played on her lips, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "One room, two beds?" she drawled, her voice thick with a southern twang that seemed to grate on your already frayed nerves.

"Two rooms" you corrected, forcing a smile that felt more like a grimace. Sharing a room with Luke Castellan, a roof, again, even in this desolate outpost, was an idea so abhorrent you couldn't entertain it for a second.

As if sensing your objection, the woman tapped away at a dusty computer terminal. A smirk played on her lips. "Couple's getaway, huh?" she asked, her eyes darting from Luke, back to you.

Percy and Annabeth exchanged a surprised and disgusted look. "What?" you demanded, your irritation bubbling over.

But before you could react, you felt Luke´s heavy arm slunging casually around your shoulder, his voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Looks like we're gonna have to get a little bit cozy, don't you think, baby?" he drawled playfully.

You gritted your teeth, biting down on the inside of your cheek to keep from exploding. You knew perfectly well he was just trying to get under your skin, and the worst part was, it was working. The thought of sharing a room with him was bad enough, but the idea of him calling you "baby" sent shivers down your spine – not of pleasure, but of pure, unadulterated annoyance.

Faking a sickly sweet smile, you leaned in and delivered a sharp elbow jab directly to his stomach. He doubled over with a groan, clutching his center for a moment. "Call me 'baby' again," you hissed, your voice low and dangerous, "and I'll punch way lower than that."

“Got it, muscles” he wheezed.

The receptionist, clearly enjoying the spectacle, leaned back in her chair and tapped away at the computer again. "Right now, we have one room with a double bed, and another one with two single beds" she explained.

You glanced back at Annabeth, a silent question hanging in the air. She nodded in understanding. Two single beds might not be ideal, but it was infinitely preferable to sharing a room with Luke.

"We'll take them" you declared.

The woman expertly counted the money, her lips pursed in concentration. "Rooms thirteen and fifteen." she announced, handing you two keys. "No smoking inside, and do not break anything, or you'll be charged double" the lady continued, her voice laced with a warning that was clearly aimed at you and Luke.

As you all four walked towards the stairs, you tossed the key to room fifteen at Luke. He snatched it reflexively in the air, a hint of confussion in his face. “Boys, you´ll share a room” you declare.

Luke scoffed behind your back. "What are we? Eleven?" he asked.

"It was a nightmare to drive a car with you in it" you retorted, "can't imagine what it would be like to share a room."

Later, after some questionable inspectioning around the room and re-organizing your bag for when you leave tomorrow morning, you finally had a little time to yourself.

The cool water splashed against your face, washing away the grime and exhaustion of the day. You glanced over at Annabeth, who was meticulously placing her most important things on the floor to clean and organize her bag; her dagger, her cap, a rope, a squished water bottle, and a few maps. Despite the cramped confines of the motel room, a sense of peace settled over you. Even with Luke's irritating presence hanging over your head, it was a welcome change from the constant fear and adrenaline that had fueled your journey.

A sharp rapping on the door snapped you out of your reverie. "Coming!" Annabeth called out. She opened the door just a crack as you peeked your head out of the tiny bathroom door. You were greeted by the sight of a very smug-looking Percy. His cheeks were puffed out, and he was clutching a brown paper bag that seemed precariously close to bursting.

"Uh, hey" he mumbled, his voice muffled through a mouthful of something chocolatey. "I raided the vending machine downstairs” he simply explained.

Annabeth turned towards you. “Dinner?” she asked.

The offer of a snack, however meager, was enough to send your stomach grumbling in protest. The idea of a proper meal sounded heavinly, the food from camp, the meat, the mashed potatoes. Gods, you really wanted to be back. But right now, even the greasiest bag of chips could be enough for you.

Percy shoved his way past Annabeth and into the room. He disgorged his loot onto the small bedside table that sat between your beds. Annabeth, with her usual organizational skills, started to create a semblance of order from the chaotic pile of snacks.

Across the room, you noticed Luke still leaning against the doorway. He had shed his usual polished exterior for a pair of worn sweatpants and a plain t-shirt, a sight that momentarily threw you off balance. He took you in with a lazy glance, his eyes lingering on your tired face and messy hair. "Looking good" he called, a smirk playing on his lips.

One of your eyes twitched in irritation. Grabbing the wet towel you'd been using, you flung it at him with a growl. He managed to snag it out of the air just before it connected with his face.

"Hilarious" he remarked.

Annabeth jumped in before the playful hostility could escalate further. "How about a movie?" she suggested, her voice laced with a hint of forced cheer.

The idea wasn't exactly appealing, but the prospect of some semblance of downtime outweighed the absurdity of watching television in a dingy motel room. You and Luke exchanged a glance, a silent agreement passing between you. You didn't know how much peace you could get in the middle of a mission, or for how long, but the idea of just sitting down and eating calmly while watching a movie was undeniably tempting. Even with the dubious snacks and the cramped quarters, it felt like a small oasis in the storm of your current situation.

The movie selection on the ancient TV was limited, to say the least. After a series of disgruntled grumbles and channel surfing, they settled on a cheesy romance movie with a plot that could have been predicted by a hyperactive squirrel. The acting was atrocious, the dialogue predictable, and the special effects looked like they were created by a bored teenager with basic editing software. Yet, despite the movie's inherent ridiculousness, a strange sense of camaraderie filled the room. Laughter, albeit tinged with exhaustion, erupted at the predictable plot twists and overly dramatic dialogue.

As the minutes ticked by, Percy and Annabeth succumbed to the fatigue of the day. Annabeth curled up by your side on her bed, but her eyelids eventually fluttered shut and her head lolled back against your shoulder. Percy managed to stay up for a little longer with Luke, but his snorting could easily be heard just ten minutes after.

Silence stretched between you and Luke, punctuated only by the rhythmic snores of Percy and the occasional sigh from Annabeth in her sleep. You glanced over at your friend, her head resting peacefully against your shoulder. Despite the discomfort of the shared bed and the dubious snacks, a sliver of normalcy felt oddly comforting.

Across from you, Luke mirrored your posture, leaning back against the headboard with his arms crossed. His gaze was fixed on the flickering television screen, but you knew his attention wasn't on the atrocious movie. He was lost in thought, a furrow etched between his brows.

There was tension in the air, a constant undercurrent simmering between you two. You didn't like each other, that much was certain. He was arrogant, self-serving, and his loyalty always seemed to have a price tag attached. Yet, a grudging respect had grown between you over the years. You both understood the weight of your responsibilities, the burden of protecting those younger, more innocent.

He cleared his throat, the sound sharp in the quiet room. "Hey, Per—" he began, his voice a low murmur.

“Hey” you called. Luke´s head snapped towards your direction. "He's been out for more than half an hour" you interjected softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Don't wake him up."

Luke's head tilted to the side. Confusion flickered across his brown eyes before settling on a scowl. "What?" he hissed, barely louder than a whisper.

"Think about it" you countered, your voice a low murmur that wouldn't disturb the sleeping teens. "Percy's been snoring like a miniature thunderstorm for at least ten minutes. Annabeth wouldn't wake up even if a centaur stepped next to her right now. Waking them up would just cause a monster of a different kind."

You knew Luke understood. You weren't just talking about Percy's physical exhaustion. You were both keenly aware of the burden these young demigods carried. They craved normalcy as much as anyone, and these stolen moments of peaceful sleep, however fleeting, were a precious commodity. Watching them, so vulnerable and carefree in their slumber, filled you with a fierce protectiveness. The last thing you wanted to do was disrupt that.

Luke didn't reply, but his gaze mirrored your sentiments. A flicker of something akin to respect softened the harsh lines of his face. You weren't friends, not by any stretch of the imagination. He mean. Yet, you shared a common enemy and a common purpose – to protect those who couldn't protect themselves.

The silence stretched for a momento before he cleared his throat again, the sound sharp in the cramped room. "So," he drawled, his voice laced with a hint of resignation, "what do we do then?"

You sighed, frustration creeping into your voice. "Guess we're stuck sharing a room after all" you muttered, throwing your hands up in defeat. The idea was far from appealing.

Luke's face contorted in horror. He let out a theatrical whine that would rival any crying toddler. "Oh come on" he whined, stretching the word into several syllables. "Sharing a room with you? Talk about cruelty and punishment."

“Oh, just shut up” you whispered-yelled at him. “Trust me, I don´t wanna sleep next to you either. I´ll build up a wall of pillows before you can even start snoring”

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with your least favorite person. But beneath the surface, you both acknowledged the unspoken truth – the safety and well-being of Percy and Annabeth took precedence over any personal discomfort.

You both rose from your beds, a tense air crackling around you. Picking up your backpack, you hoisted it over your shoulder with a sigh. "Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with."

Luke followed, his movements mirroring yours. The walk down the cramped hallway was filled with an tension. Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching his door, Luke fumbled for the key, his irritation evident in his clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room identical to yours – basic, cramped, and thoroughly unappealing.

Stepping inside, you couldn't help but let out a groan. A single, double bed dominated the room, leaving absolutely no room for separate sleeping arrangements. God, why did Percy have to fall asleep? Why didn´t you and Annabeth pick this room earlier? Everything was going the wrong way for you. You exchanged a look with Luke, the message clear in your burning eyes.

"Snort or drool" Luke began, his voice a low growl as he pointed a finger at you "and I swear I'll throw you out the window"

"Hm, how charming" you replied sarcastically, stepping past him and into the room.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you dropped your backpack onto the nearest chair. Luke began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. You rolled your eyes at the sight. This was so ridiculous.

A glance at your watch confirmed your suspicions. It was not too late to hop on quick shower. Percy and Luke walked down to the vending machine so quickly earlier that you didn´t even have time to wash yourself before they came to your room with the so called dinner. Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. You looked for a clean shirt you were sure you packed before leaving camp days ago. The possibilites of a shower were low in missions like these, but you never knew.

Leaving your backpack open on the chair, you made your way to the bathroom door, silently pushing it open. Luke watched your movements for a fleeting moment, but quickly went back to his pillow fortification once your figure disappeared inside the small bathroom. He didn't think much of it at first. You were just getting ready for the night, whatever your methods.

Inside the bathroom, you began stripping off your clothes, the cool air a welcome sensation against your heated skin. In your state of exhaustion, you neglected to fully close the bathroom door. A foolish mistake, perhaps, but in your defense, the room was tiny and the it wouldn't be winning any awards for spaciousness. Right now, all you craved was a chance to scrub away the road dust and find a clean shirt for the —uncomfortable— night ahead.

A few seconds later, a muffled curse broke the silence on Luke´s side. Luke, realizing he'd left his toothbrush in the bathroom, stopped himself from the pillows task and approached the bathroom door. He was expecting it to be shut. A polite knock, a request for his forgotten toothbrush – that was the plan. But as he drew closer, his steps faltered. The door wasn't shut.

“Seriously!?”

There you stood, completely devoid of clothes except for your underwear, taking off your camp´s necklace and your earrings. The warm glow from the bathroom light accentuated the smooth lines of your shoulders and the curve of your back. Time seemed to freeze for a beat. Luke's breath hitched in his throat.

You whirled around, startled. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw Luke's flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his brown eyes darted around the room as if searching for an escape route.

"Didn't think you'd be so shy, Luke" It was a playful jab, a way to lighten the sudden tension that had filled the small space.

Luke sputtered, his voice barely even a regular tone. "Shy? I'm not-, I mean-…” he kept cutting himself off. “This-, don´t you know what privacy is!?"

His indignation was adorable, you couldn't help but think to yourself. You'd never seen him so flustered, so utterly out of sorts. A mischievous glint sparked in your eyes.

"Oh, come on" you countered, a playful smile tugging at the corners of your lips. "Don't tell me you've never seen a girl in this state before."

The question just didn´t have an asnwer. Luke's mouth clamped shut. His eyes widened for a moment, then darted back down to the floor, avoiding your gaze. There was a flicker of something in his eyes – a memory, perhaps, or a realization – but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

The silence stretched, thick and awkward. You realized you had hit a nerve, a part of Luke you hadn't expected to expose, not in front of you. A pang of unexpected curiosity pricked at your insides. Just what kind of experiences had this arrogant, self-assured perfect golden boy had?

You opened your mouth to speak, to maybe apologize for your teasing, but Luke beat you to it.

"Just shower and get dressed, okay?" he mumbled, his voice tight with suppressed frustration. "I want to sleep."

He didn't wait for a reply, simply turning on his heel and retreating back to his pillow fort. You watched him go, a smile playing on your lips. The encounter had been unexpected, to say the least, but it had definitely shaken things up.

A low chuckle escaped your lips. "You'll wait for me?" you called out playfully, knowing full well he wouldn't answer.

"Shut up!" came his muffled reply from behind the pillows.

The silence in the cramped room was thick enough to spread. You emerged from the bathroom, a clean shirt clinging to your damp form and a towel wrapped around your head like a makeshift turban. You caught sight of Luke burrowed deep beneath the barricade of pillows, a picture of forced nonchalance. His eyes were resolutely fixed on the ceiling, but you could practically feel the heat radiating off him.

A mischievous glint flickered in your eyes. He might have gotten away with a verbal escape route earlier, but you weren't done yet. "Well, aren't you going to say something?" you queried, amusement dancing in your voice. "Speechless, Castellan? That's a first."

Luke remained stubbornly silent, his jaw clenched tight. He could feel the blush creeping back up his neck, a burning reminder of his moment of weakness. How was he supposed to act normal after seeing...well, after seeing more of you than he ever bargained for? The image of your smooth skin and the graceful curve of your back was burned into his memory, a stark contrast to the sarcastic warrior he knew.

You flopped down onto the bed, the makeshift wall of pillows separating you from Luke. You turned off the bedside lamp in silence before removing the towel off your hair, gently brushing it. The silence stretched on, broken only by the soft rustle of your brush. Just as you thought Luke had successfully retreated into a silent sulk, his voice broke through the tension.

"Look" he muttered, whispering "it was an accident. Just forget it, alright?"

You couldn't help but let out a soft chuckle. "Oh, come on" you teased, leaning back against the pillows. "Didn’t expect that seeing a little skin was such a big deal for someone like you."

Luke shot you a glare, but it lacked its usual bite. Someone like him? What the hell did you mean by that? Maybe it was the unexpectedness of it all, or maybe it was the way the dim light had cast your figure in a different light, one he hadn't noticed before. Whatever it was, it had thrown him completely off balance.

A sudden, and quite unwelcome, thought struck him. Just what kind of experiences had you had? He knew you weren't naive, or dumb. But the thought of you with someone else… the possessiveness that flared up within him surprised him. It wasn't jealousy, not exactly, but a strange sense he couldn't quite explain.

He pushed the thought aside, focusing on calming his racing heart. He needed sleep, not a philosophical debate about his feelings for his least favorite demigod. Just as he was about to drift off, your voice sliced through the silence, sharper than any blade.

"Are you a virgin, Luke?"

The question hung in the air, a verbal bombshell that shattered the fragile peace. Luke's eyes snapped open, wide with disbelief. Gods, you were bold. He stared at you in the dark, lifiting his head up just enough to peak from the pillows in between your boides, his mind struggling to process your words.

"What?" he finally managed, his voice husky with disbelief.

A faint blush crept up your cheeks, a stark contrast to the playful glint in your eyes. "You heard me" you countered.

Luke felt a surge of annoyance mixed with a strange vulnerability. He wasn't used to being caught off guard, especially not by you. He opened his mouth to retort, to deflect the question with his usual sarcastic wit, but the words wouldn't come.

His gaze drifted towards the wall, a silent battle raging within him. Should he answer your question honestly? The thought of revealing such a personal detail to you, his nemesis, was unappealing. But then again, a small part of him, the part he kept hidden away, craved a different kind of connection with you.

He took a deep breath, the decision made. "Does it matter?" he finally replied, his voice a low murmur.

You turned on your side, facing him across the wall of pillows, getting rid of some of them, dropping them to the carpeted floor. The moonlight filtering through the window cast an ethereal glow on your face, making your eyes seem to sparkle with mischief.

"Maybe it does" you said, your voice soft and laced with an undercurrent of something else - intrigue? Even in the darkness, you could see the way your words affected him, the way his dark eyes seemed to flicker with a mixture of emotions.

Luke opened his mouth to respond, but before he could get a word out, you cut him off with a laugh that seemed tinged with nervousness.

"Forget it" you said, shaking your head slightly. "Just... hormonal thoughts." The explanation felt flimsy, even to your own ears. This wasn't just idle curiosity; it was something deeper, something you couldn't quite explain yet.

Luke remained silent for a moment, your sudden change in direction throwing him off. Part of him was relieved you weren't pressing the issue, but another part, the part he usually kept suppressed, felt a flicker of disappointment. He wouldn't admit it, not even to himself, but he'd be lying if he said he hadn't found your boldness, your honesty, even your sudden vulnerability, strangely appealing.

"Hormonal thoughts, huh?" he finally echoed, his voice husky. "Does that mean you wanna have sex with me?" He dared to voice the possibility that you might be attracted to him. He must´ve been out of his mind.

The thought was simply impossible. Yet, the way your eyes sparkled in the moonlight, the way you'd turned towards him, discarding some of the pillows as if to bridge the gap…

"No!" you blurted out, as if reading his mind. The defensiveness in your voice surprised you both. "It's not that at all. It's just... I don't know." Frustration laced your words. This whole conversation was turning into a confusing mess. “Just… how far have you reached with a girl?”

Luke stared at you, dumbfounded. This night had taken a turn he hadn't anticipated. Why were you even talking about this? Why were you asking these questions? Why, despite the initial irritation, was he finding himself answering?

Heaving a sigh, he sat up against the headboard, exhaustion finally catching up to him. "Not too far, actually" he mumbled, the words laced with a weariness that surprised him. The words felt strange coming out of his mouth, a confession he wouldn't have made to anyone else. He hadn't meant to dwell on past experiences, especially not with you. He hadn't realized how much he'd carried on his shoulders, the weight of overlooked desires he never truly got to satisfy. Suddenly, the frustration in your voice clicked into place. Was that why you'd asked? Was it because you felt the same way, burdened by an unfulfilled yearning?

But as you shifted in your bed, suddenly sitting up on your knees, he couldn't help but notice the way your silhouette was illuminated by the moonlight. And then he saw it — the lack of shorts beneath your t-shirt, a detail he'd managed to conveniently overlook in the heat of the moment, which didn´t make sense at all.

"What are you—?" he began, the question dying on his lips as you moved closer. You began to dismantle the remaining wall of pillows, clearing the way between you.

His heart hammered against his ribs as you sat down on his lap, one leg on each side of him. You were close, closer than you'd ever been before. A mix of confusion and arousal that left him speechless. You stared at him, your eyes reflecting the soft moonlight, as your hands reached for his.

"Have you ever done this?" you asked, your voice gentle, devoid of the usual sarcasm you wielded like a weapon. You weren't mocking him, weren't trying to pry. This was a genuine question, a moment of surprising intimacy that neither of you could have predicted.

Luke stared at you, his mind reeling. His hands, usually quick and confident, felt heavy and clumsy under your touch. You guided them to hold steady of your thighs, even though you were not moving, not yet.

Luke had never been more confused in his life. His mind raced, searching for a coherent response, an appropriate action. Was this a trap? A test? 'What the hell?' his mind raced.

But as he looked into your eyes, searching for an explanation, all he saw was a reflection of his own thunderstorm. You were just as confused as he was, caught in a moment of unexpected intimacy.

Neither of you knew what to say, what to do next. This wasn't part of the plan. You were supposed to be enemies, rivals forced to share a cramped motel room.

You know, the classic shit.

But this wasn’t it. This was something strange that even though he hated to admit it, he didn’t want it to end yet.

So he trailed his hands higher. Higher, higher, higher. Then placed his hands on your hips. He was breathless, and a sudden feeling of dumbness filled his insides as he stared at you, reading you like a book; you were waiting. And he had no idea what to do.

But you surely did. A slight sway of your hips was all he needed to breath out the amount of air his chest was holding. Then another one, and another; each movement pressed deliciously against his cock, already hardened.

He let out a deep groan, teeth tightening and head falling back slightly.

You placed your hands around his shoulders, pulling him closer to you, almost chest to chest. Your hips kept rolling over him. If this felt good to him, it must’ve feel like heaven to you, due to your lack of lower clothes.

“You’re big, Luke” you whispered, a tiny smirk smudged along your lips. There it was. You again.

He thanked the darkness for hiding his red cheeks, but his state was not going to make him vulnerable again. He gripped your hips tighter, pulling at the top of your ass towards him over and over. “Fuck, just shut up for five minutes” he breathed out.

You didn’t answer. Your mouth hang open over his own. Your lips were dangerously close to touching, to kissing. But it was not gonna happen. As your hips rolled at a fast pace his breath tangled with yours, his moans, his groans, everything was swallowed by your own sounds.

He should feel embarrassed of behaving like this, not only because it is you but because he’s supposed to be in the middle of a mission. But come on, he knew this would happen soon or later.

All those years in which he secretly saved his feeling for himself. He had to hide the fact that whenever he touched your skin, whenever he felt your warm body against his hands, even the slightest and most teasing touch, a bolt of lighting went from the tip of his toes to his head.

He felt drunk in you in just a second and what, because he accidentally saw you almost naked?

He had to thank the gods for his luck.

“Oh, Luke” you moaned, head tilting back as you squeezed your eyes shut. Oh, he liked that.

He audibly chucked, laughed at you. “Who would’ve known?” he asked. “Who would’ve known you’d be so dirty, baby?”

Your eyes sparkled with fire, piercing Luke’s insides as the scar on his face twitched like every time he smiled. Despite the look on your face, your hips kept rolling over his; you couldn’t stop. It felt too good, too hot, too wet, even under Luke’s sweatpants.

“Don’t call me baby” you managed to blurt out, but the sound coming out of your mouth just made the whole sentence something pornographic. Luke didn’t complain.

You removed your hands from his neck. He was convinced you were gonna climb off of him and he would have to apologize repeatedly so he could finally get to cum with you on top of him; but instead, your hands travelled down his torso, and hid under his white shirt, pressing your palms onto his abs, pushing your own body harder against his.

“What should I call you then?” he whispered against your mouth, hands gripping impossibly tighter, finally gripping to your asscheeks. He had to hide a groan from the very back of his throat. “Bunny? ‘Cause you can’t deny you wanna hop on my cock?”

Now that was new.

If you were shocked, your face wouldn’t show it, but your body surely did. Your movements became sloppy, tired, and your chest moved up and down faster than ever. Luke rolled his own hips into yours, moaning uncontrollably at the feeling of his cock being constantly rubbed under your clothes pussy, and at the sight of the small wet patch you had on your underwear.

“Luke. I wanna cum” you moaned out. He liked that you didn’t warn you were going to, but you wanted to. As if you were asking for his permission.

“You won’t get off me until I cum, get it?”

He was a possessed man all of a sudden. His groans, growing deeper with every movement, his hands holding onto you for dear life and his breath twirling with yours as if you were the oxygen he needed to stay alive.

The tight feeling on your belly snapped as fast as you started to feel it. Yet you were obedient, so you kept moving.

The overstimulation was too much already, but when was gonna be the last time you would get to almost fuck Luke Castellan? Probably this time, you wouldn’t want to screw it up.

In fact, you wanted to do so much more. To suck his dick, to gag on it. To let him play with your body as much as he pleased and craved for. To let him take you anywhere and anytime he liked.

It didn’t take Luke long enough to hit his climax too, thankfully. His hips twitched against yours repeatedly as he placed his forehead on your chest. His breath was heavy as if he had run a million miles, his forehead sweaty.

Your hand reached his curls, smoothly running them down the back of his neck as if you were comforting him from the worst experience he had ever had. Little did you know this was his best so far.

“Do we-,” he cut himself off to swallow thickly. He didn’t realize how dry his throat was until he tried to speak. “Do we get to share rooms again?”

“What do you think?”

part two <3

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan #luke castellan smut #pjo series #pjo #luke castellan x you #luke x reader #luke castellan one shot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan imagine #pjo x reader #pjo x you #pjo smut #luke castellan x female reader #luke castellan x fem!reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan imagines

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noosayog · 8 months

Text

[baby fever] ft. kageyama tobio

wc: 300

iwaizumi | ushijima | atsumu | osamu | sakusa

“Have you ever thought about having a kid?”

“A kid?” you echo.

He nods, the sunset light dyeing his face in an orange-red hue.

“Tobio,” you laugh lightheartedly. “Is this what you’re thinking so hard about?”

He looks put out by your laugh, the sure signs of a budding Tobio Tantrum. “Yeah.”

“Tobio, we’re so young! Maybe one day…”

He nods, but you’ve known him for so long, you notice the slight puff of his cheeks and jut of his bottom lip.

“Tobio, are you seriously pouting about this?”

“‘M not pouting. I don’t pout.” he says as he crosses his arms over his chest. Turns his cheek away from you.

Tobio gets like this with you sometimes. And he always gets over it. So you just laugh his attitude off and continue the walk home with a sullen Tobio toddling behind you.

It’s only later that night when the two of you are in bed that he broaches the topic again.

“But the others have them already,” he grumbles against your back.

“What?” you say, turning around to face him in the darkness.

“I thought you were asleep.”

“Nope. What did you say?”

He tucks his chin inward, hiding his face. “Oikawa already has kids. Even stupid Hinata has ‘em.”

“Tobio,” you sputter in disbelief. “It’s not a contest!”

“But I’m ready.” he says, blue eyes clear and sure even in the dark. “And I love you. Don’t you?” He looks at you expectantly.

“I guess I’ve just never thought seriously about it. But… I don’t not want a baby with you.” you offer hesitantly.

He lights up like a christmas tree. “You mean it?”

“Yeah, I mean, I love you and…”

He doesn’t let you finish because he’s already all over you, body flipped on top of yours, hands reaching under your shirt, and lips tracing your face.

“Love you too. Love you so much…” he slurs between kisses.

And you were going to finish your thought by saying that the two of you need to talk it through thoroughly, preferably when you aren’t drunk with sleep, but his kisses are turning you into mush and now you’re feeling drunk on something else and this one’s a secret, but the image of your pouting Tobio gives you visions of a future baby who pouts exactly like their father.

#noos writes #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x you #haikyuu x y/n #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #hq x y/n #hq x you #hq imagines #hq fluff #kageyama tobio #kageyama x you #kageyama fluff #kageyama tobio x you #kageyama tobio x reader #kageyama x reader

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fairyofshampgyu · 1 year

Text

Adagio

pairing: subby gyu x dom! reader

genre: smut, fluff

warnings: sleepy lazy morning sex, soft sex, blow job, riding, titty sucking

word count: 1.4k

song: My Cherie Amour - Stevie Wonder

─── ･｡ﾟ☆*.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.───

You awoke to the sunlight seeping in your bedroom through the windows, nearly blinding you as you squint your tired eyes. Being able to hear the birds that always chirp early in the morning and you watched as a petal from the cherry blossom tree that stood just outside flew onto your window sill from leaving it slightly open last night when beomgyu whined he was too hot. You always loved blossom trees. They were so pretty to look at, the tell tale sign that spring had begun.

You swap your gaze to your sleeping boyfriend who lies next to you, snoring softly looking pretty as ever like he always did especially when he was sleeping. It’s moments like this where you think damn, how did I manage to bag this? Heart swelling up at just how cute he looked with his gorgeous eyelashes you’ll never get over touching his cheeks making him even prettier, hair fanned out across the pillowcase, framing his pretty face, soft lips in a little pout as he slept. Sometimes just looking at beomgyu makes you overwhelmed with emotions you just want to cry. It’s disgustingly cringey, you’re aware. But you’re in the mood to feel disgustingly cringey.

You press a kiss to the rounded tip of his absolutely adorable nose that looks even cuter in the mornings. And then give him one more just for good measure. Beomgyu cutely scrunches his nose and flutters his eyes ever slightly open, humming and grinning at you.

“Good morning, sleeping beauty.” You say to him, giggling and softly rubbing his cute nose with your own.

“Mmhhh… good morning, Prince Charming. I’m just so irresistible that you can’t help kissing me even in my sleep huh?” Beomgyu teases, speaking in his gruffy, sleepy morning voice that never fails to drive you a bit crazy— A lot crazy.

He was expecting you to roll your eyes or tell him to shut up like you usually do but you just hum in agreement this time, cupping his puffy face and giving him a kiss on the forehead, “Yeah. You’re a pretty a sleeper.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that, mouth shutting from the comeback he was planning to use as he does that little pouty shy smile thing he does whenever he gets compliments. “Woah what happened to y/n? Who are you?”

You roll your eyes. "Also you got two fairytales mixed up, you fucking doofus. Prince Charming isn't even in sleeping beauty."

“Ah, there they are.” He chuckles.

“Anyway, get up. We gotta organise your party later on and get everything done for it.”

He groans at that, wrapping his arms around your waist tightly and burying his face in the crook of your neck. “I’m way tooooo tired though. Why don’t we just stay in bed together all day instead.”

“Beomgyu. It’s your party. And I wonder why you’re so tired.” You sarcastically say. “Maybee if you weren’t playing video games all night long with heeseung.”

“It wasn’t all night long! You were playing as well. Horrendously, I must add. I’m never letting you be on my team ever again.”

You grab a pillow, hitting it in his face. “You made this so unromantic. I was trying to serenade you with my love and kisses.”

“Ah, please do then. I want kisses.” He puts his lips into a little kissy face.

You sigh but caress his face again, stroking your thumb against his cheek and peppering kisses all on his face and he giggles, feeling ticklish and all mushy inside. He shuts his eyes, liking the feeling and then he’s already in a deep sleep again. Typical.

But you carry on kissing, drifting to his neck where you start to place little love bites and hickeys, he hums at that, signalling he’s somewhat awake right now. And you trail the kisses to his chest.

You rub your thumb in circles on one of his pretty nipples and suck the other, swirling your tongue around the bud and he gives you soft little whimpers in return. Then, you give his waist and cute tummy you adored so much a massive load of kisses. It was just too cute and soft, heaving up and down in his half awake state.

You moved further down, lifting one of his legs up so you can give all your attention to his creamy, plush thighs. Them not being marked yet a crime. So you suck the inside of his thighs until they’re covered and filled with bruises that most likely won’t go until a while, beomgyu restless and whimpering the entire time, his thighs too sensitive.

You sit back once you’re done to admire your work and the beautiful sight, absolutely covered in hickeys from the neck, chest, stomach and thighs.

“You look so fucking gorgeous marked baby. Should be marked like that all the time.”

“Need you please…” Beomgyu whispers and whines out, sleepily, eyes still closed.

“Yeah?” Beomgyu nods his head fast for you and so you take his hard dick out, slowly wrapping your lips around them and he whimpers continuously as you start to suck him off in his sleepy state, bobbing your head back and forth on his cock which was dribbling little beads of cum. One of your hands, gripping the flesh of his thigh tightly, making him moan even more.

You pull off of him for a second to spit a little bit of saliva onto his tip before you go back to work, thigh twitching and dick jerking as you continue to give him a blowjob.

"You can cum, baby." You tell him when he’s close which extracts the prettiest whines out of him, popping him out of your mouth so you can see him make a pretty mess of himself on his thighs and stomach.

He's even more tired now and so are you but you slowly get on top of him, kissing him in the process and lining up his sticky dick to your entrance. Ever so slowly, sinking down on him, the both of you lifting your heads back and groaning.

You ride beomgyu lazily and leisurely, feeling like you could probably go to sleep again anytime soon. Lips never leaving his as even your mouths moved slow against each other.

"Hold…" Beomgyu whimpers out, extending his hand for you and you intertwine and lace your fingers with his. Hand holding one of his favourite things and it always made you so soft.

You pick up your movements but not very significantly, sloppily and very lazily pumping his dick in and out of you with the slickness of his previous orgasm and your own wetness.

He throws an arm over his head, lips parted, eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut and look on his face pure ecstasy, both of you losing yourself in the pleasure and he elicits the most mellifluous sounds ever. His moans literally the prettiest to your ears, especially right now in the morning.

You reconnect your lips to his, kissing him feverishly, literally devouring every quiet soft moan he lets out into your mouth. His pretty lips quivering and eyes fluttering open and closed, grasping your hand so tight and he draws out the longest, loudest and most gorgeous moan of your name ever to exist before he’s cumming heaps into you, both of you cumming together, eyes rolling to the back of your heads.

Beomgyu pants, exhausted, and then rolls on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist and resting his face in your chest contently. He lays on you like this for a little while, then he looks up at you with big puppy eyes and a pout, “Wanna suck your tits.” Spoilt, but you’ll let him have his way today.

He instantly lifts your shirt up, latching his pretty round lips onto one and groping and kneading the other, eyelids blissfully closed as he sucked and left wet kisses and bruises on your chest, swapping every now and then so he can give both attention, he lets out a little whimper just from sucking your tits.

You move his hair out of his face, giving him a peck on his forehead. Beomgyu’s eyes begin to get heavy and he’s already drifting off to sleep again, mouth still latched onto your nipple and face resting in your chest, you a few minutes from sleep again as well.

“I love you. I’m genuinely being serious, I’m fucking in love with you. You’re like…my favourite person in the entire world. You are my world- okay ew nevermind. I was trying to be romantic and poetic but it didn’t work. But I really do love you. Happy Birthday, gyu.”

Beomgyu hums in acknowledgement with a soft lazy smile appearing on his face, a little incoherent ‘love you’ coming out of his mouth which was still on your tits and you both fall asleep cuddling.

Please actually reblog !! and comment !!!! if you like the fic. It’s really appreciated tysm !<3🙏💕😊 It’s discouraging when fics have such little reblogs 🤨👎Feedback is always appreciated it makes me happy :)

A/n: we love being delusional 😍😍 I never reread this bc I couldn’t bring myself to so if it’s actually bad I’m sorry 😭 ANYWAY ITS BEOMGYUS BIRTHDYAJSND I LOVE HIM SM I HOPE HE HAS A GOOD DAY CRYING CRYING CRYING FIGHTING BLEEDING LOSING I LOVE HIM !!🎉💕🫶

#beomgyu smut #txt smut #beomgyu x reader #sub!idol #sub!beomgyu #txt headcanons #dom!reader #txt scenarios #sub txt #choi beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu x reader #beomgyu imagines #txt imagines #beomgyu fluff #kpop smut #sub idol #sub beomgyu

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violetrainbow412-blog · 9 months

Text

Wishes fulfilled [S. R.] birthday wishes pt. 2

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 7.7k

summary: After an unfortunate event, Spencer questions what he really feels about his childhood best friend.

contains: best friends to lovers, a little angst at the beginning, conflict over feelings, mostly fluff

A/N: A anon suggested there be a second part for birthday wishes and I thought, why not? You can read it as a standalone or as a continuation, tell me what you thought! this makes me very happy:)

The months passed and very soon the Christmas season arrived. There were some allusive decorations courtesy of García and she had even placed a small tree in the meeting room with symbolic gifts under it, one for each member of the team that they could open after Christmas Eve. It was a month full of warmth, love and delicious hot chocolate, but criminals in the United States didn't seem to adhere to that rule so the BAU continued with business as usual.

“She was Abigail Jones,” Garcia began, projecting an image on the conference room screen of a woman who must have been in her thirties. “She was found dead yesterday in her apartment in Las Vegas, in the area of Downtown, with multiple signs of violence, sexual abuse, and a completely disfigured face…” when she said this, she turned away from looking at the photo, with good reason, as it made even the strongest members feel nauseous.

There were two other victims, the same mobile phone and in scattered areas of the city. They were single women, who lived alone and although they didn’t seem to share traits in terms of their socioeconomic level, they were extremely similar physically and that is why Spencer's stomach turned when he realized how much they looked like you. A call to Hotch's phone interrupted the presentation and they all waited for the exchange to end, until after exchanging a few sentences the man spoke.

“It was the police chief. There is a new victim, they just found her in the Summerlin area, in an apartment complex on Pennwood Avenue.”

“At Pennwood?” Spencer asked, turning completely pale as she heard the area where the attack had taken place “Who is she?”

“They haven’t yet identified the body, but she has the same characteristics as the other women”

Everyone was shocked to see the doctor get up from the table and leave the room without giving any explanation, apparently to make a call from his phone. Aaron set the departure time of the jet and after that some members approached the young agent to try to find out what was happening. He seemed very worried, with the device pressed firmly against his ear and his gaze lost.

“What's wrong, Reid?”

“I'm calling Y/N,” he explained, feeling his breathing begin to quicken. “She lives in those apartments.”

The rest of the team seemed to understand, then, the concern that had overcome the man due to the information they had just received. They were also profilers and even with the little that they knew you, they knew that you fit perfectly into victimology, so it wasn’t difficult for them to connect both dots to realize what Spencer's fear was.

The first call had no answer, other than the answering machine, so he called again, again and again until panic took him in its clutches like prey.

“Dude, calm down.”

"She doesn’t answer!" Spencer practically sobbed, feeling like everything around him was spinning and a second later collapsing into Morgan's arms.

"What's going on?"

“Reid fears that the woman they just found is Y/N,” JJ explained to her boss. By this point the entire team was already gathered around the man, sharing the worry that was tormenting him and thinking about the possibilities of everything. The trip to Vegas was longer than usual trips, which didn't help in the least.

Spencer felt a chill when he tried to dial your number again and, just like before, he only heard your pre-recorded voice.

“Okay, listen,” Hotch said firmly, as he approached Spencer and grabbed his shoulders to get his attention. “I'm going to ask the officer to call me as soon as they identify the body, until then I need you to calm down. Do you know if Y/N has any particular signs with which they can tell us now if it is her?”

“Huh, she…” he stammered, struggling to put two coherent thoughts together to answer, “she has a… a mole on her belly, I think. It’s small and red.”

Under other circumstances the team would have mocked him, asking him how he had that knowledge or something along those lines, however, the situation was too delicate to allow for jokes.

“Okay, get your things so we can leave as soon as possible. And again, calm down,” Hotch said firmly, pointing at the agent. “It's not her, Reid. I know it"

Spencer tried to do what his boss had asked, but he kept dialing his cell phone every two minutes hoping to hear a response. He tried to calm down by telling himself that the chances of that body being yours were very low and trying to find in his mind some statistics that would corroborate this, but fear barely allowed him to understand the situation enough to know any information at that moment.

Obviously he was the first to arrive at the jet and he didn't stop trying to communicate with you, until he saw Aaron walk through the hallway with an expression he couldn't decipher.

"She…"

“No,” the man responded immediately. “The victim's name is Olivia Anderson. She’s not Y/N”

Hearing this he let out a breath of air and took a couple of steps until he reached the opposite one, to wrap him in a hug of complete relief. Hotch responded with warmth and a murmur of 'I told you so', which was interrupted by the arrival of the rest of the team.

Even though you still weren't answering the calls, Spencer was able to feel calmer during the flight, enough to analyze various aspects of the case that allowed him to offer valuable contributions for the future. When delegating the commissions, the unit chief was condescending to him and asked him to go to the last crime scene, so that with some luck you could meet and he could make sure that you were okay.

When they arrived in Nevada, the snow greeted them and Spencer adjusted his scarf tighter as he got into the car that Morgan would drive to the crime scene. The walk wasn't long and once there Derek motioned to his partner when the officer arrived to talk to both of them, as if he were permitting him to enter the building instead of staying. Spencer didn't hesitate to practically run inside to look for your apartment, and when he finally found the door with the number 17 he knocked frantically, but when he didn't receive a response he only became more frustrated.

Where the hell were you supposed to be?

He felt a vibration in his right pocket and almost dropped the device from his hand when he answered the call, without even looking at the identifier.

"Hello?"

“Reid, come back here,” Morgan spoke. “Y/N is with me.”

The agent didn't have to say it twice for Spencer to go down the stairs with the same speed he went up them, almost tripping on the way, and when he came out he looked for you in every direction. The snow and the tide of law enforcement personnel blocked the view a bit, but when his eyes finally met yours, you smiled and waved your hand to get his attention. Spencer ran, again, towards you, until he crashed into you in a hug. You were smaller than him and you fit perfectly against his body.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked in an angry voice, separating himself from you so he could look at you, but without letting go of your waist “I called you at least thirty times and you didn't answer, do you have any idea how worried I was?”

“I, huh… I left my phone at home and I'm just getting back from work, I had no idea what happened. Morgan already told me that there was a homicide.”

“Did you know her?”

“She's my neighbor,” you muttered sadly, looking toward the entrance of the building. “Oh, Crash, this is so horrible. She was… she was very good and kind to everyone. She didn't deserve this."

“I want you to go in there, pack some changes of clothes, and come back here, okay?”

"Why?"

“You will stay with me in the hotel until the case is over,” he ruled, with a tone that gave no room for opposition. “I need to work right now, but while you do what I asked of you.”

“But… I can't just leave my apartment like that, and what about my job?”

“I will talk to your boss and if he refuses, I will charge him with obstruction of justice or I will assign you an escort if necessary, but you are not going anywhere alone.”

You knew perfectly well that, although Spencer was a valuable member of the unit, he didn't have the power to do that, but because of the confidence in his voice you doubted for a second if he would be able to ask someone higher up in the bureau's hierarchy for that favor. You had rarely heard him speak like that, with a mixture of anger and concern, and he had never ordered you to do anything in your life. But he was doing it now, he was giving you specific instructions that wouldn't take no for an answer.

“Reid, we need you here” you heard Derek say from the other side.

"What's going on? Why do I have to leave here?”

“I'll explain everything to you later, okay? For now you go and get your things to call a taxi” he said, a little less agitated than he had spoken at first. Then he, in an unexpected act, gently kissed your forehead “Wrap yourself up, it's freezing out here.”

Although you had more questions, you knew that he was working and that you couldn't interrupt him just because, so you went to your apartment and grabbed a small suitcase to start packing clothes. Your phone was, as you expected, on the kitchen counter and you checked that he wasn't exaggerating with the number of calls he made to you.

When you left there was already a taxi waiting for you, so he just gave you the address of the hotel where the team was staying so you could get there. It was a picturesque place with lots of cheerful Christmas decorations, with a friendly guy as the receptionist. He already seemed to be aware of the agreement and after you checked in, he guided you to the room, where your friend would also be staying.

You didn't understand why it was necessary to keep you there and you hoped that he would call you at some point to clarify the situation, but he didn't. Since you had brought your laptop with you, you took the opportunity to continue working and it wasn't until a couple of hours later, you didn't even know how many, that someone knocked on the door. You didn't open it until you asked who it was and recognized your friend's voice, seeing him standing with his briefcase slung over his shoulder and a tired smile.

“Hello,” you sighed in relief, greeting him with a hug and then pulling him inside. You let him put down his belongings and sit on the bed, while you stood in front of him. “Do you want to explain to me what is happening and why I am here?”

“There is a murderer on the loose”

“That seems obvious.”

“There is a murderer on the loose who killed your neighbor, with characteristics surprisingly similar to yours, both physical and personal” he added and it took you a moment of silence to understand where the matter was going “I just didn't want you to be near there because he could come back"

“Do you think I'm in danger?”

“I don't know, but you're the kind of woman the unsub likes. I wasn't going to risk you”

You nodded your head softly, from your position of crossed arms.

“And what does your boss think about this?”

“He didn't know,” he confessed to you and you opened your eyes widely. “But I told him on the way here and he said to just try to stay out of trouble or Strauss would call him out on it. It's just that I... panicked, okay? When the police found Olivia's body they had not identified it and… I was afraid that it was you”

Suddenly all the calls and his face contorting into a grimace of relief when he saw you made sense to you, because at this point you hadn't even realized how much you and Liv shared. But Spencer had done it, that was his job after all.

“But I'm fine,” you said reassuringly, as you knelt in the space between his legs and met his gaze. “I’m safe, okay?”

“Did you see anything suspicious in the last few days? Anything that can help?”

“I don't think so, I spend all day at work” you lamented “I'm sorry.”

“Don't worry,” he reassured you, giving you a tired smile.

You knew your friend and you knew beforehand what stress did to his body, like those horrible migraines he had started to get or the dark circles under his eyes, and now his body language was screaming at you that something was still bothering him.

“You should sleep,” you suggested, reaching out with one of your hands to place it on his cheek. Spencer didn't complain, instead he closed his eyes and turned his head slightly so he could rub his skin against your outstretched palm.

It took you by surprise when, just a second later, he leaned down to grab your waist and help you get up from the floor. You were about to ask what he was doing when he maneuvered himself again until you were sitting on his lap, your legs dangling next to his and his arm wrapped tightly around your lower back.

“So we're cozy now, huh?” you scoffed, trying to mask with a smile the blush that had already spread across your face at the position the man had placed you in.

Spencer was a great lover of physical contact, contrary to what many might think, although this depended a lot on the person he was with. It had taken you months of effort to get a handshake and only as the years went by did, he begin to enjoy hugs with you. But after so much time you had gotten used to it and that's why the man became all clingy with you, after all it wasn't very common for you to see each other, which didn't bother you at all.

However, him holding you like that felt completely different than usual. You had only felt those butterflies in your stomach when, on his birthday, you had been so drunk and tired that you ended up sharing a bed. You had to admit that you liked him more than you should, waking up sheltered by his body, between a tangle of limbs and feeling the rise and fall of his calm breathing; and when the thought of having more nights like this crossed your mind you suppressed it immediately, feeling tremendously guilty about it.

But this wasn’t a product of alcohol or fatigue, but rather Spencer had done this of his own free will. His hair curled at the tips and you took the opportunity to gently brush some pieces off his forehead, while he watched you in complete silence.

“I don't know what I would do if something ever happened to you.”

His confession was barely a whisper that tickled your cheek, said with such sincerity that he took you by surprise. You couldn't measure the fear that had brewed in your best friend's chest that morning and that's why you couldn't understand his need to have you physically close, as he wanted to make sure you were there with him and not brutally murdered on a bed in the morgue.

A sigh of tenderness left you and you immediately pulled him close to you to hug him, feeling your hip fitting into the curve of his stomach and his face close to your neck, like he always did.

“Is that why you are like this? Baby, you don't have to worry about me. I already told you I'm fine."

“I know,” he murmured. “But I can't help it.”

“Well, you'll have to try it.”

“How do you want me to try something like that?” he exclaimed, separating from you so he could look into your eyes, and keeping the minimum distance between you two “I can't. I will always worry about you, you are my…” the words were cut off, because he didn't think there was a word that encapsulated well enough what you meant to him, but also because he was momentarily distracted by your lips; why was he getting distracted by them?

“Best friend in the whole world and sole owner of your heart?”

“Something like that,” he responded, laughing for the first time that night, and as he did so his face only moved closer to yours. He was strangely nervous about your presence and didn't know why, so he didn't help much when you leaned against his body so he could hold you better. Spencer just hoped your ear couldn't pick up the increase in his heartbeat.

“We should be able to stay like this forever,” you muttered absently, and although you didn't mean to be serious the words hit the man worse than they should.

For a moment he contemplated the possibility of actually staying with you forever and then he realized it wasn't an idea he disliked. From an early age every time Spencer thought about his future you were in it, but he hadn't thought about the role he wanted you to play. You had been friends for so long that he didn't believe there was anything more to your relationship, however, he was very wrong.

Was holding you like that awakening something in him that he didn't think was possible? Or was it the fear of losing you that made him realize that he would rather die than spend a life without you? No book or statistical study gave him an answer to what he was feeling and, to be honest, that terrified him.

He knew that you had tried to have a relationship with several men throughout your life, but none of them had managed to progress beyond a few months, due to one reason or another. However, Spencer wondered how long it would take for you to finally find love and if he could stand to see someone become your priority. It's not that he was jealous or possessive, just that he had been used to being someone important in your life for too long to accept the change from one moment to the next. He would always be happy if you were happy, but it made him sick to think that you would end up marrying someone completely unworthy of your affection and admiration; someone who didn't deserve the best woman of all. And as if it were an epiphany, Spencer realized that he wanted to be that man.

He needed it.

“We have to sleep,” he murmured, gently patting your back, because he was afraid that if you stayed like this any longer his mind would travel to some other inappropriate ideas. “Sleep on the bed, I'll sleep on the floor.”

“The bed is big enough”

“It doesn't matter, you use it,” he murmured. You had already stood up and were playing absentmindedly with the long sleeve of your blouse, without stopping to look at him.

"But…"

“I don't want to have this discussion today, okay?” the man had already taken some pillows and was spreading a sheet next to the bed. You, resigned, climbed up to the mattress and remained to kneel on it, watching your friend arrange his place.

“How many days will you stay here?”

"We don’t know yet. With some luck it will only be until tomorrow."

“You should visit your mom,” you murmured. Among so many emotions, Spencer had barely had time to think about Diana, at least until now that you had mentioned her, and he felt a pang of guilt. “It's almost Christmas, it would be a nice gift.”

“I think you're right,” he smiled. Things were ready and although he enjoyed talking to you now he felt extremely tired, so he just wanted to go to sleep. “Rest, okay? We’ll talk tomorrow"

“Good night,” you replied, smiling tenderly at him. An unexpected urge to lean in and steal a kiss grew in Spencer, which he tried to shake off of himself.

Without saying anything else he walked to turn off the light and then came back to lie down on the blanket, trying to sleep. When he was about to get it, he felt your arm fall over the side of the bed and your hand groping for any part of his body you could hold. In the end it was his hand that held yours and he couldn't see your blushing cheeks when he left a kiss on the back of it, nor his mischievous smile.

He knew when you had fallen asleep by the decrease in the strength of your grip, but although he tried to imitate you he couldn't do it. His mind continued to be tormented by the impulses that had invaded him that night, trying to find what reason was behind it, but also wondering how bad it would be to carry them out.

A little defeated, he got up from the floor, but not before carefully placing the hand that was holding you on your chest, and he went to see the landscape through the bedroom window. Snowflakes were falling and the lights of the casinos illuminated the view, reminding him that Las Vegas never slept, adding to these the colorful Christmas trees installed everywhere. In his family Christmas wasn’t celebrated conventionally, as it was just him and his mother having dinner ordered from a restaurant. There were gifts, they were almost always books or objects related to science, but he didn't make sense of the idea of warmth and love that revolved around the holiday. Until one time your family invited him to celebrate, he was finally able to understand that Christmas magic that everyone was talking about and from then on it was his reference for the celebration.

After staring at the window for a while he focused on the vision of you lying on the mattress, sleeping in that strange position that you always used to, and he asked himself how many years it was that he had been in love with you and how it was that he had never noticed it.

He let out a sigh that showed resignation, but also tremendous fear, and finally retraced his steps to pick up the blanket and pillows from the floor. He climbed onto the bed, knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep otherwise, and he lay down next to you, trying not to make any movements that would disturb your calm. The last thing he saw before falling into morpheus’s arms was your peaceful face, and even when he slept his dreams were filled with your smile.

The unsub was successfully caught, just as he had predicted, the next day and that was when he could breathe easy again. You were no longer in danger, outside of the usual danger that a woman from the United States faces, so you could return to your normal life without any problems.

Once you were back at your apartment Spencer said goodbye, promising that he would see you again soon, and heeded your advice about visiting Diana. He asked Aaron if he could stay in Vegas, after all the Christmas holidays were right around the corner and he made the excuse that he could come back if a new case came up. When the boss granted his request he wasted no time and headed to Bennington Sanitarium while the rest of the team headed to Virginia on the jet.

When he arrived good news about his mother greeted him, all referring to the improvement she had with the new medication, and when the doctors' report was finished they took him to the room where she was. Diana was reading to another patient and Reid smiled lovingly at the sight, a smile that was reciprocated when his mother noticed his presence.

“My child, I didn’t expect your visit,” she murmured, while she received the man in her arms.

“There was a case here and I decided to stay with you for a few days, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course it's okay with me, do you think I wouldn't want to see you?” she smiled, patting his face and hearing him laugh.

Both of them moved to her bedroom where they shared stories that she hadn’t read in the letters or that deserved to be deepened now that they were together. Her mother talked to her about how she had been feeling, some workshops she had taught and new people who had joined and she had befriended. He was very happy to see Diana so happy and lively, contrary to other visits where the circumstances had been more unfortunate.

The talk was interrupted by a nurse bringing dinner to Diana and a portion of contraband for Spencer, who was extremely grateful. In the middle of the silence of dinner his mind returned to you and when he looked at his mother, he knew that if anyone could give him good advice it was her.

“Mom, can I talk to you about something?”

“Of course,” she replied, pushing her food aside so Spencer could sit on the bed with her “What is it?”

“Well, huh… I guess you remember my friend Y/N, right? My God, of course you remember her” he answered himself, knowing that he was always talking about you in his letters “The fact is that I… I have felt weird with her since my birthday.”

“Weird how?”

“I don't know, like… different,” he murmured, not knowing if that would be the right word for the nature of his feelings.

“You don't want to be her friend anymore?

“Quite the opposite, actually,” he murmured nervously. He considered it prudent to explain the situation that had arisen from the case and about your stay with him during these days, so that his mother could understand the fear that he had suffered, before continuing talking “And last night when I got to my room and she was there I felt… I don't know, I don't even know how to say it. I only felt enormous relief to see her well and I wanted her to always be well."

“Well, you grew up together. It's normal that you worry about her, you guys are almost like family”

“But I can't see her like that,” he interrupted her. He hated her comparison, because he knew what brotherly love was and it was definitely not how he felt about you “I think I'm in love with her. No, I know I'm in love with her. And I… I'm scared”

Diana's attentive eyes studied her son and Spencer didn’t know how to interpret her silence, until he felt his mother's hand placed on her knee and saw a smile appear on her face.

“Oh, my boy… Why are you afraid to love?”

“I am not afraid to love. I'm afraid of not being loved”

That was. Spencer wasn't afraid of having those feelings, but rather he was afraid that they wouldn't be reciprocated. If he confessed things to you, he risked having the greatest romance in his life or being cruelly rejected by the best friend he had ever had.

Diana cupped her son's face with both hands and gave him a compassionate smile.

“You are, for more years than you can think,” she exclaimed, with complete confidence, and the man frowned in confusion.

"How do you know?"

“A mother notices those things, son,” Diana laughed. “Even one like me.”

Would his mother be telling the truth? He wasn't the best at reading social cues and that was clear, so he didn't know the difference between friendly behavior and one that held another interest when it came to you, but he doubted for a second if Diana was the best person to interpret those signs. He didn't even entertain the possibility that you had feelings for him, I mean, you were so pretty and funny and cool and he… well, he was just him.

“Are you going to tell her?” she added, noticing that he had remained silent.

"I should?"

"Sure! If not now, when will you do it?”

"But I…"

“But nothing,” she interrupted him. “I want you to go find her and tell her.”

"Now?!" Spencer screamed, feeling his mother get up and push him to the exit. “But mom…”

“When will you be in Las Vegas again?” she pointed out “I'm not going to leave here, you can come back tomorrow.”

"But it's too late"

“So what, Spencer? “Do you think I don’t want to see you married before meeting the creator?” Diana insisted and the man opened his eyes widely in a mixture of surprise and amusement. “The sooner the better. Go tell her, come on. And it would be better if you come back tomorrow that she will accompany you.”

Spencer watched her from the hallway for a few seconds and at the woman's security he felt a certain emotion, letting fear be replaced by pure motivation for the first time. He nodded and took a couple of determined steps toward the exit, but then he stopped and turned to wrap his mother in a tight hug.

"Thanks, Mom. I love you”

“I love you more,” she smiled. “Now go.”

Spencer left there completely determined and took the first taxi he saw to take you to your apartment, with his heart beating like crazy all over his chest and his mind busy searching for the words with which he would profess his feelings for you.

Inside your apartment you let out a squeal when you heard the microwave announcing that your reheated food was ready and you rushed there to return as soon as possible to see David Tennant's hottie in a trench coat. You had to admit knowing Doctor Who, at first, had been against your will, but now it was an acquired taste that you quite enjoyed and accompanied you on your sleepless nights. After a few seconds you returned to the living room with your burrito in your hand and just when you were about to play the Christmas special when someone knocked on your door, startling you a little.

“Mrs. Jensen, is that you? I already told you that I haven't seen your cat around here” you half shouted, without opening the door, but there was no response “Hello?”

“It's me,” said a fairly familiar voice. You thought you were wrong so you opened the door just a little and through the chain lock you could see that, indeed, it was your friend.

"What are you doing here?" you asked, opening the door fully. “I thought you were going back to DC.”

“I changed my mind” he replied and until then you noticed that he was holding a bouquet of tulips decorated with a white bow, which he extended in your direction for you to take. That only added to your confusion.

“Wow, I… Thank you?”

“Can I come in?” He asked timidly and as soon as you scooted to the side he walked into the apartment, not looking at you.

"Everything's fine?"

"No. I mean, yeah…” he stammered, looking you up and down. You were wearing thermal pajamas with a Christmas print and you were without shoes, with a messy bun holding your hair. “Did you like them?”

"What?"

“The flowers,” he pointed out.

"Oh yeah. They are beautiful” you smiled, looking at them carefully. There was a good number of red tulips, some open and others were just a small bud. “What are they for?”

“I didn't want to arrive empty-handed,” he lied. “I got them at a flower shop near here, a very sweet old woman sold them to me.”

“Well, thank you, then,” you smiled and he responded in kind, but then he didn’t speak again. You were just observing him, not figuring out what was causing his strange behavior. “Do you want to sit down?”

The flowers ended up in a vase on the counter in the kitchen and when you returned he was already sitting on the couch, legs together and hands on his knees.

"And how are you?"

“Well, I was about to eat something while watching the Doctor Who Christmas special,” you told him. You expected him to start ranting about fun facts or the story or the actors or anything, but he just smiled at you understandingly and stayed silent. “Is your mom okay?”

“Yes, she is. I was having dinner with her a while ago, but... I thought I'd come here because I want to tell you something important."

Oh, you thought, there's the real reason for his nocturnal visit.

"Yeah? What is it about?" you asked, slightly worried about whatever he had to say.

Everything he had thought about in the car seemed to have been erased from his memory and now Spencer didn't even know where to start. He had only confessed these kinds of feelings to two people in his life and neither of those times had turned out well, so he didn't know what to expect.

“Okay, I'm going to tell you, but you have to promise me that you will take it in the best way, okay?” he asked and you nodded. "And this won't change anything between us if you... if you don't agree with what I'm going to tell you."

“Hey, you're scaring me,” you joked nervously, but when you didn't hear him laugh your fear became genuine. “Is something wrong? You know you can tell me anything.”

“It's not a bad thing. Well, not unless you want it to be.”

“Well, tell me then,” you encouraged him kindly, with a smile that provided him with the courage he needed.

You were so pretty and he just wanted to kiss you to death.

“We've known each other for practically our entire lives, right?” he began “I still remember the first time I talked to you. And I don't speak figuratively, but I really remember it, it's one of the things from my childhood that my brain didn't throw away. I had been watching you from the window because you went out to your yard to spread a blanket to play with dolls and cars and all kinds of things. Sometimes you jumped rope and other times you kicked the ball and all I could think about was how you could have so much fun being alone. I mean, I was just reading and studying things with my microscope and you know, nerdy things” he murmured, letting out a short laugh “Until one day you knocked on my window and asked me if I wanted to play with you.”

“My mom told me to do it,” you confessed, “Well, I suggested it, but she encouraged me to do it. It always made me sad to see you there and I thought you were just too shy to come over and play.”

“But no one had ever done that. Include me in some activity, I mean. Everyone made fun of me at school or called me weird, but not you, not even when I deserved it. It made me happy that a girl like that wanted to be with me and even though you had too much energy, somehow I could keep up with you. When we grew up I thought you would just get bored of me, but that wasn't the case and even when I was promoted in grade you stayed in contact with me. You were there when mom got worse and I had to send her to that sanatorium and yet your family treated me like I was your own family. You have always been there for me and you have made me feel less alone in the world, and I don't think I have ever thanked you for that.”

“Oh, Crash,” you smiled, a couple of tears gathering on your eyelids. “You don't need to do that. I have done everything because that is what friends are for.”

“But I don't want to be friends,” he said immediately and your expression changed to a worried one at that moment. The silence between you made you imagine the worst, but it was only because he was gathering the courage to continue “To me you are something else.”

Your face contorted into another grimace, but this time one of surprise and confusion.

"What do you me…?”

“I'm in love with you,” he spat. This time all his years of training were of no use as he tried to decipher your expression. “And it's okay if you don't feel the same way about me, I'm not asking that of you. I just want you to know that the day I got here for the case I... I was going crazy at the mere thought of someone hurting you. I didn't realize that you meant everything to me until that moment and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it since. That night I just wanted to hold you and keep you safe for the rest of our lives and although I don't have much experience, I think that's what love feels like. I have always loved you, only now it is a different love. And I'll understand if you don't feel the same way about me and I just misinterpreted things, but please, if that's the case, just let me stay your friend because I don't think I can handle messing things up. I don't ask you for anything more than that, that whatever you feel, things don't become uncomfortable just because of what I just told you."

There were a few seconds of silence and then he finally dared to look at you. You were stunned, with your gaze lost and your lips parted. Years of friendship passed before the man's eyes, who interpreted your lack of conversation as a rejection of his feelings, and he felt his heart break a little. From the beginning he was aware that this possibility existed, but now that it had materialized, he realized that perhaps he wasn’t ready.

But then your eyes met his and he felt your hand reach out to his, which was already shaking slightly.

“Your hands are cold,” you observed, sliding a little on the couch so you could take both of his limbs. Spencer followed your movements carefully and could see how you brought both hands to your lips to place a kiss on his knuckles.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“I actually have too much to say, I just don't know how,” you confessed.

“You don't have to lie to avoid hurting me. I already told you, it's okay if you don't feel the same."

“Spencer Reid,” you said sternly, thus forcing him to look at you. “Stop saying that.”

“So it's not like that?”

“Of course not, why would you think so?” You mumbled, really waiting for a response that never came. You watched him carefully, trying to memorize all his features, while you reflected on how much he had changed in front of your eyes and how he was still the same scared little boy from the window.

“Because… I don't know, there has never been someone who loves me the way I am.”

“Oh, Spencer,” you murmured condescendingly, “I've loved you since you were an ugly kid with glasses who couldn't stop talking about science, what other proof do you need?”

He definitely wasn't expecting that answer and that's why he started laughing; not like a soft laugh, but a loud, euphoric laugh.

“Why do you call me ugly kid?”

“You were!” You defended yourself, accompanying him in his joy. You had probably ruined the most romantic moment of your life, however, it was worth it to see the man laugh like that. And after all you were still his best friend, it was your job to joke like that “And yet I liked you, you can't imagine how much. Then you grew up and became this perfect prototype of a boy and you were so focused on your studies that I thought you weren't interested in me, at least in that way. But you were my friend and I was happy like that, I always have been. I tried to bury those feelings because I was also afraid of ruining things, but now you come to tell me all this, and I just don't believe it."

"Are you serious?" he asked, trying not to get overwhelmed by the fact that you had just called him perfect and that you were confessing to him that you had been feeling what he was feeling since you two met. When you nodded, another laugh escaped him as he thought that, after all, his mother had been right.

He had to take a moment to digest the situation. You loved him, you really did, and things weren't ruined. He felt foolish thinking about how long you had been keeping this quiet and how he hadn't noticed, but he concluded that if he had found out at another time he probably would have freaked out and things would have ended very differently, a result he would regret for the rest of his life.

Your hands were still joined and Spencer began to rub his thumb against the back of them, feeling the luckiest to see you smile at him that way and knowing the reason for that expression.

“Is that why you brought me the tulips?” you exclaimed in a sweet voice. You should have sensed it before but only now did you realize that detail.

“Yes, I wanted to surprise you,” he replied, quite satisfied with himself. “I thought about them because, in fact, in the language of flowers, tulips symbolize hope, sincere love and prosperity, but depending on their color the meaning can be transformed. Red tulips, in this case, are ideal for a statement and express unconditional love.”

You let out a gentle laugh, feeling nothing but tenderness at his reaction.

“There's my usual boy,” you said with a proud tone, reaching out to leave a loud kiss on his cheek. Something in Spencer stirred when he heard you call him yours and that desire to kiss you returned, this time with more intensity than before.

"And then?" he asked in your direction. With your eyes you asked for a more complete explanation of what precisely he was referring to “Do you accept me? Do you accept my love?”

“Of course I do,” you replied obviously, giving him that confirmation he needed.

“And if I asked you something serious for us right now, what would you tell me?”

You looked at him for a second, looking for a sign of lying on his face, but when you didn't find it, you smiled, your cheeks completely blushing.

“I would tell you that I would have liked to be more prepared. I'm in pajamas and I smell like a burrito, I think I've looked better."

"It doesn’t matter. "I can take you on a date later, in a nice and elegant place, like you deserve," he murmured excitedly, stopping holding one of your hands to place it on your face. "But only if that's what you want."

“I do, handsome,” you smiled, sliding your hand to surround his wrist. “It's the most definitive yes of my entire life.”

You had dreamed of this moment for a long time, but you had never believed it could come true and now that it had, your heart was overflowing with joy. He was smiling from ear to ear and you suddenly realized that his eyes traveled momentarily to your lips. You saw him swallow, undecided about the next move, so you decided to save him a little effort and reached out until your lips collided with his.

You took him by surprise and although at first it felt strange to be doing that with him, almost as if it were wrong, after a couple of seconds the contact relaxed and you knew that you no longer wanted to kiss lips other than his.

With every second he caressed you in a deeper and more needy way, very different from what you had expected, even his hands took you firmly by the waist to keep you as close to him as possible. He tasted like years of mutual longing and mint gum and it had you completely giddy. You separated only when it was vital to take a breath and then you continued kissing, already addicted to a drug you had just discovered.

“You're so pretty,” he sighed against your lips, allowing himself to compliment you now that he knew you reciprocated. “So, so pretty. And so sweet to me” he recited between kisses, each one gentler than the last “You are perfect.”

“Reid, stop it,” you asked him, feeling nervous from hearing him talk to you like that and feeling him kiss you like that.

"Why? That's what I think. I've always thought so” he smiled, separating himself from you just to enjoy the sight of your beauty, and then he gently caressed the side of your head “I love you” he said.

Your cheeks already hurt from smiling so much and yet you managed to give him that vision again, and how could you not? The man of your dreams was telling you that he loved you.

You leaned in again to kiss him, this time more briefly and delicately, and then you looked into his eyes.

“I love you too” you confessed.

And both of you knew that you didn't need anything more than that.

taglist: @navs-bhat @reidwritings @tricia-shifting14 @spencerslove

people who might be interested: @stephsycamore @andiebeaword @tothecar @reiderwriter @babymetaldoll @zuckker-blog

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía #david rossi #emily prentiss #spencer reid x you

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szallejhscorner · 1 year

Note

i just had a thought and needed to share it with you LMAO but chishiya is definitely the type of person to use the whole ‘three taps means i love you’ code cuz he rarely ever says it out loud. so like anytime he passes by you he’ll tap your arm three times and sometimes he even finds himself doing it unconsciously in his sleep :((

Thank you for sharing this with me, my friend ♥

How could I NOT write this for you?

Tap, tap, tap.

Three taps on your upper arm as he passed you, his eyes not even looking up from the article he was reading. Only Chishiya’s smirk hinted at the fact that those taps were intentional, and you moved your fingers to the still tingling skin of your arm.

He always did that. Tapping your arm when walking past you, tapping your fingers when you held his hand, even your head when you snuggled into his side while watching a movie together. You had barely noticed at first, but the more often Chishiya did it, the more you questioned what it actually meant.

You had tried to figure out if it occurred after you said or did something special. Maybe it was to tell you that you were stupid (in Chishiya’s own mocking but loving way of course), or that you should move aside? It didn’t make sense.

One time you had questioned him, and the only answer had been a knowing chuckle. Of course, the cunning blonde wouldn’t give you the answer that easily, since he loved to be the clever one. You had even tried to tap him back, but that only led to an even bigger smirk on his face.

Rolling your eyes, you followed Chishiya into the living room, where he dropped back into the couch and barely made place for you when you did the same. You snuggled into his touch, leaving him enough space so he could continue reading that article about surgical stuff, and looked up to his face. Strands of blonde hair tickled your skin, the scent of strawberry shampoo just a hint in the air as you breathed in.

You searched for his hand and didn’t let go until your fingers intertwined with his, and there it was again. Three taps of his thumb against the side of your hand.

“What does it mean?” you asked again, twirling a strand of blonde hair between your fingers.

Chishiya tilted his head towards you just so slightly, a sign that he enjoyed what you were doing. “Hmm?”

You snorted. “Come on, don’t fool me. The taps! You know what I’m talking about. What does it mean?”

“If you can’t figure it out yourself, there’s no need to explain it anyway.”

That asshole. He knew exactly how much you wanted that answer, and he enjoyed it even more to play with you. This was definitely not the reason you loved him. You punched his side, hard enough so he had to flinch, before you snuggled back into it. “I hate you, ‘Chiya.”

“No, you don’t.” He bluntly stated with a smirk. Of course you didn’t.

Later that night, when the movie was long finished and you both had gone to bed, you still lay wide awake and stared at the ceiling. In the darkness of night, only a few shadows were visible, cast by the moon and the trees outside your window. Three taps. And there was a meaning behind it. Just why couldn’t you figure it out?

Chishiya huffed in his sleep and turned around so he was facing you. His mouth was slightly parted and his hair was tousled all around his beautiful features. You couldn’t resist touching his cheek, and his lips curled into a smile for a second. When you pulled back your arm to give Chishiya the space he needed, his fingers brushed your skin and you felt the soft tap, tap, tap once more.

He even did that while sleeping! But what-

You scanned his features, listened to the sound of his breath, and despite the riddle he wouldn’t solve for you, your heart was almost bursting with love for this man. You loved so many things about him – his voice, his cleverness, the way he was a man of few words who preferred to use tiny gestures.

And then it struck you.

Of course! How couldn’t you have seen it before?

Everything that Chishiya did had a meaning, even the slightest touch was considered.

Tap, tap, tap.

Three taps… three words.

I love you.

You smiled, breathing a kiss onto Chishiya’s lips. “I love you, too.”

#chishiya x reader #oneshot #reader x chishiya #chishiya shuntaro #aib #alice in borderland

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heizlut · 3 months

Note

here for the specific kink event hehe (love that idea tbh)

This will be quite specific but anygays- cnc dacryphilia mixed with slight degrading praises for Dom!Kazuha

Iykwim, like it's cnc connected with tears (dacryphilia) but he's not fully degradation, he's gentle :(

thank you anon!! i completely get what you mean and i can see kazuha acting like this for sure 😩 i love him forever (p.s.: hope you don’t mind i added a little fear-play as well)

The Cries of a Dove

cw: dark content, cnc, dacryphilia, fear-play, slight degradation, public sex (even though they’re completely alone it’s still outside)

tags: sub fem!reader, dom!kazuha, mostly proofread

nsfw under the cut

m!list here

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

Kazuha was the sweetest boyfriend. He always spoke so gently and treated you as though you were his greatest treasure. But there were moments when you just craved something more... Something darker. Your eyes flit to where Kazuha was sitting under a large maple tree, making soft music with small leaf. He always looked so peaceful and you loved him for who he was, but again, you wanted to see another side of him.

The leaves crunch under your feet and you sit down beside him. Kazuha removes the leaf from between his lips and gives you the most heart-melting smile, "Hello, my dove." You smile and rest your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh. His features twist into mild concern, "Is everything alright?" Now was your chance to speak up. Keeping your head on his shoulder, you look up at him, "Promise me you won't think I'm strange for this..."

Kazuha's soft laughter fills the warm air around you, "I would never think you're strange no matter what you told me." You huff out a breath, "So I've been wanting to try something...different." Kazuha waits patiently for you to continue. "Do you think you could... be more rough with me? Like...take me whenever you wanted without my permission first?" He blinks, processing your words in his head. You bury your head in his shoulder from embarrassment, "Say something..."

Kazuha places his fingers under your chin, "Look at me, dove." You hesitantly look up at him and he smiles, "I'll do it." Your mouth hangs open, "You will...?" He kisses your nose, "When have I ever denied you?"

Later that evening, you and Kazuha were walking through the ruins of Higi Village. The red leaves from the trees rustle in the breeze and the wooden ruined houses creak making shiver run up your spine. Kazuha squeezes your hand gently, "Scared?" You give him a pointed look that makes him chuckle. Kazuha pauses which stops you both in your tracks. His finger goes to his lips, letting you know to stay quiet as he whispers, "I think something is here. Stay put."

With that, he releases your hand, leaving you standing there with speechless. Kazuha disappears behind one of the houses and you look around cautiously for any signs of what he thought was out there. Minutes pass by and you begin to pace, lost in worried thoughts that he was taking way too long for your liking. Your thoughts are cut off by the sound of a snapping branch, from behind you. You whip around with wide eyes, your heart racing, "Kazuha?" Silence...

You look around anxiously when suddenly a hand clasps over you mouth and a hard body presses up behind you, a strong arm wraps around your waist. The sound of your scream muffled in his hand, struggling to get of the hold you were in. "Shhhh... You're too noisy", a hot breath against your ear sends shivers down your spine, but the familiar voice makes you begin to calm down. You breathe heavily into his hand that remained over your mouth, unsure of what exactly was going on.

Kazuha's free hand snakes down your body and takes its place on your hip, giving it a squeeze as he rolls his hips into you. "Stop, Kazu...", your voice muffled and also shaky from the adrenaline that coursed through your veins. "You don't get a say in this, my dove...", his voice a husky whisper as his fingers dance along your inner thigh, creeping towards your sensitive clit.

You inhale sharply when Kazuha moves your panties to the side and begins slowly toying with your clit, pinching then rubbing it with the pads of his fingers. You let out a small moan, the sound catching in his other hand that had yet to remove itself from your mouth. Kazuha huffs a small laugh, "You like this? Letting some man play with your little pussy... You haven't been able to turn to see that it's really me yet. I could be anyone right now..."

Your eyes flutter and you whimper at his words. He was right. If you hadn't recognized his voice and knew it was him, you would be helplessly moaning into some stranger's hand as he toyed with you. Kazuha runs a finger through your slick, "What's this? Are you turned on by the idea of a stranger having his way with you?" His tone was teasing, but condescending.

Kazuha slips two fingers into your warm, wet core, pressing them against the spot that had you melting into him. His fingers pump in and out of your pussy, continuously pressing the same spot over and over. The feeling made your legs shake. The whole situation was not one that you expected and it was overwhelming.

You stumble when Kazuha removes his fingers and pushes you forward. Your hands catch you from falling face-first into that ruined wooden wall of the abandoned home in front of you. You hear the sound of rustling clothes behind you and soon feel his hardened cock land on your ass. Your heart races again. You knew it was Kazuha, but his earlier words were really messing with you. He moves his hand from your mouth, only to shove two fingers into it, making you drool and whine around them.

It catches him off guard when he feels something wet run down his hand. Keeping his fingers in your mouth, Kazuha tilts your head back so he could look at your face. Something inside his twists when he sees you had begun to cry, but he wasn't going to stop now, "Really, my dove? Tears? This is what you wanted." You cry out when he slams himself into your pussy with virtually no warning. Your cunt squeezed him so tight, he had to put in extra effort to fuck the way he wanted to.

His voice is hoarse and low when he speaks again, "Look at the way this pussy swallows up my cock~ Such a pretty view." Kazuha bucks up into you switching from fast and hard, to slow drags of his cock within your walls. Drool spills from your lips, coating his fingers and down your chin. The noises you were making were pathetic almost as you whimpered and moaned each time he buried himself deep within you.

Endless praises fell from Kazuha's lips, the feeling of being inside you in such a scenario made him crazy for you, "My little dove takes my cock so well. Squeezing around me like you're trying to milk me for all I'm worth... Such a pretty little thing all helpless just for me -fuck-" Tears spilled down your cheeks, your adrenaline making you feel more sensitive than usual as you cum hard around his cock. Kazuha groans at the sensation and fucks into you hard, chasing after his own release.

Kazuha's body curls against yours as he releasing inside of you. His cock throbbing to the beat of his heart as he comes down from his bliss. A mix of cum leaks out when he pulls away. Kazuha takes his fingers out of your mouth and turns you around to face him. What a sight you were with reddened cheeks and glassy eyes that stared up at him in a daze. He gently rubs his thumb across your cheek, taking some tears with it and gives you sweet smile that held a hint of concern, "Are you alright, my dove?" You nod, trying to process everything, "You scared me a little, but I kind of enjoyed it... So thank you for giving into my request." Kazuha takes your hand in his, pressing a soft kiss to your palm, "Anything for my little dove."

ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*･｡*.｡🍁 ﾟ｡·*

a/n: dear god, when is it my turn

#kazuha smut #kazuha x reader smut #genshin smut #genshin impact smut #kazuha x reader #genshin kazuha #genshin impact kazuha

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bonny-kookoo · 6 months

Note

SOMEONE OLDER IS CUTE. AS FFFFFFFF

drabbles open?? 🥺 because imagine how cute they look baking together for Christmas like newlyweds couple in their new home at jungkook’s house because jungkook also doesn’t know where things are 🥺🥹😔🫶🏻🫶🏻

Of course its open for drabbles!

---

He can't help but laugh to himself how you try and contain your excitement, all the different colored Christmas lights reflecting in your eyes as you look around, constantly checking in with him to see if he's interested in something.

Your hand is around his biceps, as he pushes the cart around the store, nothing in it yet. "You don't have to hold yourself back." He tells you, as you look after a particularly interesting set of decoration.

"I just.. I don't know what you like?" You worry. "Like.. what if I overwhelm you? Or I want something you don't?"

"Then I'll tell you, and we find a compromise." He says, one of his hands gently running over yours on his arm. "I won't hate you just because your thoughts differ from mine. How about we choose a little tree first." He decides, realizing that giving you full choice might be too much right from the start. You're not used to that, after all.

So with the small fake tree in the cart, you're now putting different lights and decorations in as well, Jungkook's cheeks hurting from the way you so caringly place everything in the cart, telling him with everything where you'd like to place it, and how you invision his home to look like. How warm the fake candle lights will make it feel like, bringing some color into his otherwise rather monochrome interior design.

It's then that he spots her.

"Oh, Jungkook?" Evelyn questions, a few things in her arm as she walks up to him, her attempt at a hug however denied by both his warning gaze, and his hand on yours that's resting on his arm holding it there.

As if to tell you to stay- because he'll keep you safe from her.

"Are you helping your friend with her Christmas party?" She smiles, and you feel oddly intimidated- but Jungkook stands his ground.

"No, we're simply preparing for Christmas at home." He politely tells her. "If you'll excuse us-"

"Jungkookie, we have to talk about our apartment though." She says. "But I'll text you sometime later when you're not.. occupied. By the way!" She excitedly says, heels clicking on the floor as she walks over to you, making you press a but closer into Jungkook's side. "I'd love to make use of your.. services as well, in the near future. I have someone who really needs someone like you." She purrs, before she leaves.

Leaving you stunned, and Jungkook questioning.

It's quiet as you pay for your things, and drive to his house- before you speak up.

"Its not.. it sounded like she was-"

"I'm so sorry." He grits out, angry. "She keeps..!" He sighs, parking in front of his house in the designated spot, turning the engine off to run his hands over his face. "She keeps digging, and digging, and scratching at me like some rabid animal-!" He huffs out, when your hands pull his from his face, gentle.

"Then I'll.. I don't know what I'll do, but I'll do something to make it better." You say. "Maybe it's best to try and cut her out?" You wonder, and he sighs, throwing his head back.

"I'm trying!" He whines. "I'm trying." He sighs defeated, while you hold his hand.

"The.. service she was talking about." You say, catching his attention. "I help clean out.. homes. Like, hoarder situations and such." You tell him. "I do it for free. Mostly for friends, or their friends. I do it because I like helping people do what I personally wished I could've."

"..and that's.?" He asks quietly.

"Getting away from who they've been." You confess. "Getting a chance at a new start."

"The apartment she mentioned.. it's sold. Technically- the new family hasn't signed yet, but there's a lot of people interested." He explains. "Evelyn hated the house. She wanted a skyline apartment, high up, in the middle of the city." He shrugs. "So I bought it for her."

"Jungkook.." you say kindly. "You loved her. It's normal you did what you could to make it work." You say, moving his hand to your cheek, where his palm instantly moves to hold it. "But I think it's.. maybe time to disconnect yourself from her." You tell him, averting your eyes. "To.. make room for something new. Someone new."

"Have to bring out the trash, huh." He chuckles, leaning over the middle to kiss your lips, before you both get out the car to unpack everything- but instead, he pulls you close, snow falling down onto the both of you, breaths visible in the cold of the late evening, as he holds your cheeks in his palms, and leans in.

"I love you." He says.

And you whisper it back, over and over again, between every kiss you give him in return for his confession-

Well aware that no Christmas gift he'd get you could ever compare to this.

#bts imagine #bts fanfic #bts fic #jungkook imagine #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagine #bts jungkook imagine #bts jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #bts jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook imagines #jungkook imagines #jeon jungkook fanfic #bts jeon jungkook imagine

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dira333 · 1 month

Text

Love is Love - Sanji x Reader

I am so glad I am finally getting this out of my head (even though I still have so many plotpoints I could have used and I am a little insecure about the ending) But I'm slowly collecting the Straw Hat Crew.

Tagging: @revasserium @jayalmostdied @miyuthehuman @flow33didontsmoke

The sun is beating down on the Going Merry hours, promising for today to be even hotter than yesterday or the day before.

Sanji is alone on the ship, the sudden quiet welcome but unusual, like trying on a former favorite dress shirt.

The smoke of his cigarette curls into funny shapes. That should have been his first sign.

But it’s the clatter of dishes that alarms him, pulls him out of his reverie.

He’s supposed to be alone on the ship.

The door to the kitchen is open, the air still heavy with the scents of their breakfast. He can tell that the kitchen window is open, can feel a soft breeze on his skin. When he twirls around the door, he’s not sure what he expects to find. Luffy maybe, who wanted to sneak in a snack. An animal that thought the open window was an invitation.

Not you.

You’re crouching on the kitchen counter, barefoot, one arm stuck in the cabinet where he hides cookies behind all the boring ingredients. Your other hand is holding one of the bones he set out to thaw, intending to use it for soup later.

Time stills, the air thickens… and then it turns alive.

Sanji’s flung out of the room like he’s being pulled and pushed at the same time. His back doesn’t hit the wall as he’s being dragged down the hallway, but he manages to catch onto a beam, fight back against the invisible attacker. By the time he’s made it back into the kitchen you’re already on the windowsill, ready to leap out of, that damned bone still in your hand.

“Wait!” He yells, “We’ve got food.”

You still.

You’re clearly a girl, hair wild and unruly, moving with a breeze he cannot feel. Your eyes are missing that wildness, instead they are careful as they move over his face, as if they’re looking for something. Whatever it is, you seem to find it, because you turn around and offer him the bone like a peace offering.

By the time the rest of the crew makes it back, he’s fed you three times.

You’re not much of a talker, ask more questions than you give answers in return.

But you’re hungry, that much is clear. And he’s never denied anyone food who needed it.

Your eyes follow every movement that he makes.

“What is that?” You ask when he cuts a vegetable they brought from the East Blue.

“Why do you do that?” You wonder when he starts whisking the eggs.

You’re curious, yet careful, hungry for knowledge and substance at the same time.

He’s not surprised that Luffy takes a liking to you. It’s hard to tell how old you are, mainly because you refuse to answer that particular question.

But you came by a Devil’s fruit much the same way he did, ate it without knowing about the consequences, and the wind has been your constant companion since then, picked you from the island you called home like it meant nothing, blew you past ships and countries.

You’re looking for a way home and as Nami rolls out one of her maps it becomes clear that the only way back is through the Grand Line.

- - -

A window has to be open at all times.

You don’t like the way it feels when the air stills, when there’s no way out and no way in.

It starts with a stiffness, first your toes, then your legs, and finally your upper body. You cannot move, you cannot breathe, you cannot think.

It’s Nami who recognizes it first, who opens the windows wide and lets the rain-soaked air in when you’re gasping for air. You like her and the wind likes her too, from playing with her hair to the taste of tangerine her trees leave behind.

Luffy is funny, twirling you around and around and around until you spin like a spintop or fly through the air like a bird. He’s the best teacher you ever had in the years you’ve spent away from home.

“What if you fart?” He asks one morning, “That’s air too. Would that give you a boost?” Or “Can you push wind into our sails?” Or “Can you talk to the birds?”

The answers are no, yes and no.

Usopp, who practices with you without knowing, cursing the sudden gusts of winds that knock his bullets of course, who tells you tale after tale after tale, until another world is spinning behind your closed eyes at night. You like the world he crafts. It’s one of adventure, friends and family.

Zoro is wary of you. You can see it in the way he watches you, when he’s pretending to be asleep, or how he never seems to be surprised when you turn the corner, soundlessly, two feet above the floor. You wonder if he wants you gone until he opens a window, wordlessly, when it’s your turn to clean and the stiffness has started creeping up again.

And then there’s Sanji.

Does he notice that the wind likes to play with his hair? That the smoke curls into funny shapes above him when he smokes? That there’s a fresh breeze in the kitchen even when the windows are closed?

You like to watch him cook. He seems to like teaching you.

Or maybe it’s just nice to have another pair of hands helping, to make sure that Nami gets her food first, carefully plated. To make sure that everyone else gets a helping before Luffy takes a second helping.

You tell yourself that. It’s your job now. To help cook, to clean, to make sure there’s always wind in the sails.

But it feels different, when his hands touch yours, guiding you to hold the knife or twirl a whisk or just… plate the eggs just right. It feels like… something you don’t want to think about.

“Tell us something about your island,” Usopp asks one night, the sky above you washed clear like a dinner plate, the stars twinkling like they’re telling you the same.

You’re sitting high above them in the crows nest, remnants of smoke wafting around you. If Sanji notices that the wind is carrying it up high, high above his head, he’s not addressing it. But you can tell by the way Nami cocks her head that she’s seen it, yet again.

You think of home, of the rugged shore and tall trees, the tiny houses and their well-loved inhabitants. Longing tugs on your heart like the wind tugs on your bones.

The moon is full above you and maybe it’s that, the sight of his friendly face, that loosens your lips and the locks around your heart.

“The most important day is when the moon is at its fullest, right after you turn eighteen years old. It’s when childhood ends and life begins, when you become who you are meant to be. A hunter, a cook, a musician, or a playwright. You step out of your house before the sun rises and you don’t come home before the moon has shown its face…”

You tell them of all the singing and dancing, the rites of passage one must go through to safely make it back home, as the new person you dreamt of being all along.

It’s a dream of each child, to have this day of their own, where everything is about finding yourself, your own little place on this safe little island.

It’s a dream of yours, ever since you’ve known about it, to walk out in the morning, the hand of your father on your shoulder, and to come back to his smiling face, to the pride shining in his eyes.

“When is it time for you?” Luffy asks a question that’s meant to be innocent for sure, but it misses its goal by a mile. The wind shifts and Nami yelps as it threatens to blow her from her perch on a barrel. Luffy’s hand catches his hat before it flies off but you’ve already turned away, eyes on the horizon.

If they know it was you who brought the wind, they don’t address it.

- - -

He’s not going to address it - yet - but Sanji thinks he might be sick.

Not sick in the way a cold ties you to your bed or a stubborn stomach bug might leave you stuck in the bathroom for a few days until you get better.

No… he must be sick in the head.

It’s been weeks since he’s felt the same joy in teasing Nami, watching the way she rolls her eyes at his attempts at flirting with fond admiration.

Today marks the third day in a row where he’s almost forgotten to make her a special dish, only remembering it when you ask about it.

He’s sure Nami has noticed it, has seen it in the way she grins knowingly when you bring her plate to the table. He’s pretty sure she’s noticed all his other symptoms too.

How he’s unable to sleep without his window open nowadays, which upsets Zoro who wants it closed. Or how he’s skipping cleaning the kitchen for hours in favor of going on a stroll around the deck. He’s restless… and hungry.

But not hungry in the way he’s known since he was a child, hungry in a way he never wants to be again. This hunger has him taste the best dishes and still be dissatisfied, craving something he cannot name.

Until you shuffle into the kitchen one afternoon, approach him with the caution that a stray cat might approach the offer of a piece of fish.

“Can you teach me how to make pancakes? Usopp mentioned them.”

He nods, wiping his hands on a towel. All thoughts of stuffed roasts and baked potatoes go out the window. So what if he’s serving pancakes for dinner? Luffy’s going to devour them anyway.

You move to his side, careful and cautious like you always are, and something in him settles, like a bone that has been out of place sliding into the right spot again.

He bites back a sigh as he relaxes.

Whatever’s wrong with him, your presence is the fix he needs.

“So…”

Nami settles next to him on the wooden planks that are still warm from today's sun. His eyes cut over to her, guilt clawing at his neck with cold fingers. He didn't even hear her coming over.

“”Nami-ch-” he starts, the usual flirtatious tone sticking to the back of his teeth like caramel gone bad. Her face speaks unamused as she cuts him off.

“If you’re interested in her, you should stop flirting with me.”

“I’m not-” he argues weekly, chancing a glance to check if you’re listening. But you're absorbed in whatever you're doing with Luffy, may it be dancing or training or something in between. It almost makes him lose his focus again, the way you move through the air, twirl around Luffy like your limbs are made of the same material, careless laughter ringing through the air.

Almost, because he does notice the way Nami “tsks”.

“I am not interested,” he repeats, with more emphasis this time. “She's way too young anyway.”

Nami snorts.

He glares.

She rolls her eyes.

Eventually, she opens her mouth. Lazily, as if she does not care at all.

“Just because someone dresses and acts younger than they are does not mean they stay that young. She's our age. That eighteenth birthday happened long ago.”

Sanji blinks. His eyes move back to you without him wanting to. He never thought you were a kid, just a few years younger than him, a little younger than Luffy, maybe, but he can see what Nami means, now that she’s opened his eyes to it.

There’s the way you pull into yourself, try to appear smaller than you are. The way you laugh, the way you dress, the way you do your hair. It all contradicts the deepness of your eyes, the stories they tell in the silence of an empty kitchen.

“Hmm,” he makes, holding onto the sound. He’s not yet speechless, he tells himself even though he is.

It’s about a week later that he climbs up to the crows nest, to your feet dangling above him.

Your eyes are wide when he slips into the small space and he tries not to think about the way your body is pressed against his, warm and inviting, or how the wind carries the scent of your freshly washed hair until he feels like he’s swimming in it.

“You know,” he says, tapping an unlit cigarette against his leg, undecided on wether to light it or not, “It could take us some time until we reach your island.”

“I know,” you say, pulling the lighter from his pocket without asking. It flickers open in your hands like it’s never happened any other way. Smoke soon curls above him. He takes a drag and watches as the smoke leaves his lips and forms a perfect question mark in front of him.

You duck your head as he snorts.

“Every one of us has a dream,” he starts again, nowhere closer to how he’s going to go about this. “Did Luffy tell you that?”

You nod, eagerly counting them down on your fingers one by one.

When he breathes out another cloud of smoke you twirl your finger through it, form it into a fish, a sword, a crown.

“What do you think is going to happen first?” Sanji asks, the words heavy on his tongue.

“What do you mean?”

“Whose dream is going to come true first?”

“Well, it depends, right?” You ask back. “We might pass by All Blue on the way to the One Piece, or…”

“If we pass by it, I will not stay there.” Sanji declares it quietly as if that could keep its truth from becoming reality for a little while longer. Your eyes are huge now. Around him, the wind picks up. A clear sign that you’re agitated.

“When I became a part of this crew, it meant that even though I will follow my dream, my Captain’s dream is more important. If we pass by All Blue on the way, I cannot stay there. I cannot rest until Luffy has become the Pirate King.”

“But…” You start, but he’s started it. He has to finish it too.

“You can fly, right?” Sanji asks. He knows it must be true, even though he’s never seen you do it before. “If you wanted to go home, you could.”

The air stills around him. It’s like someone closed the window on a violent storm and it’s hard to breathe, the air almost stale.

You pull your knees to your chest, curl into a ball in front of him.

For a while, no one says a thing.

- - -

“It was the day of the full moon when I left. My path was clear. I wanted to become a hunter and a warrior, so I went into the woods to find a boar and bring it home. I told my father, but he thought it wasn’t a good idea. He’s a cook. My mother is a singer. He told me to bring home mushrooms and fresh fish from the lake in the mountains, to cook him the meal he taught me. To become a cook. I was… I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I went up to the mountain lake anyway and… I found the fruit. It just… I wanted to try it because I was curious, but I never got to go back home. I didn’t fulfill the ritual. I don’t even know what I’m going to be when I come home and I can’t…” Your voice breaks, your fingers twitch, your nose buries itself between your knees.

Warm hands take hold of yours. You don’t dare look up. You don’t want to see what his face looks like right now. But his warmth is soothing, like the heat of a hearth fire on a winter day. You can feel his pulse under your fingertips, slow and steady like yours ought to be.

Your lips open and the last few words slip out.

“I can’t come home before I know what I am. And I can’t… turn too old, you know?”

“And here I thought you were an explorer,” he offers, his voice just as quiet as yours, “The greatest explorer there ever was, who brings home tales of pirates and marines, recipes of the best food, and songs to sing around the fire. Only an explorer would bite into a fruit they’ve never seen before.”

You giggle before you can stop yourself. He’s not wrong.

“What do I do now?” You ask moments later, his hands still warm around yours.

“I don’t know. Let us explore that idea for a little bit, what do you think you could do?”

- - -

Nami’s only a little surprised to find two pairs of feet dangling from the crows nest in the morning.

She doesn’t feel like climbing up herself, not when Usopp or Zoro, or a very hungry Luffy are here to take that job from her hands.

But she does feel a little smug about it when you appear, shuffle into the kitchen right after Sanji, sidle up to him at the stove like you’ve never done anything else.

She doubts that the boys notice it, blind as they are to the affections of a woman, but Nami smirks into her cup of coffee knowingly as she watches you, the way the two of you move as if you’re puzzle pieces or magnets, click together to not come apart.

It’s cute.

The only downside: She now has to come up with yet another strategy to get Sanji to make her favorite food.

But oh well… Love is love.

#my writing #Sanji x reader #black leg sanji #vinsmoke sanji #opla sanji #opla x reader #opla fluff #sanji fluff

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train-wrecc · 1 year

Text

Nobody Gets Me

marcus baker x bestfriend!female!reader

warnings!: hunter-bashing?, a slap?, curse words, I think that’s it…

word count: 6.3k

unedited!

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You and Marcus had been friends since the second grade. You and your family had moved to Wellsbury in the middle of the school year, leaving you to have to deal with the difficulty of making friends.

When you first arrived in the town, your mom instantly became friends with your next-door neighbor, known as Ellen. Your mother had gone on about how her new friend had twins your own age. Your parents let you pick out your own room, you chose the one with a large bay window in it, which happened to be facing another window. Your small eight-year-old self sat on the seat of the bay window, taking in the large tree beside your home.

Suddenly a boy appeared in the window across from your own, he made his way over to the window, now facing you. His face was filled with curiosity and slight annoyance. It was as if he was called by someone, because before he turned to walk away he saluted you, then ran off.

Seconds later your parents called you downstairs as well.

“Honey, our neighbors invited us over for dinner earlier, let’s head over and when we get back we can finish setting your room up.” Your mother explained, gaining a nod in response from you.

It was then that you were first introduced to Marcus Baker.

The dinner was filled with you sitting quietly, Marcus making sarcastic remarks, sign language, and Maxine Baker talking everyone’s heads off.

The following Monday would be your first day at your new school in Wellsbury. Your mom had prepared you a special lunch, filled with your favorite snacks, and paired with your favorite meal.

The day had gone smoothly until recess hit. You had barely grabbed the little race cars you had decided to play with before they were abruptly snatched out of your hand, “Hey! I was gonna play with that!!” You told the person who had rudely snatched the toy away from you. You turned to face them being met with none other than Marcus Baker.

“Give it back, Marcus!” You shrieked at the boy in anger.

“No, race cars are for boys.”

“No, they’re not! Give me it!” You whined, arms crossed.

“Make me!” The boy teased you as he stuck his tongue out at you, running off to the playground.

Of course, you were not about to let some boy treat you like that, so you ran after him. Marcus made you chase him around the playground as you shouted at him, and he laughed continuously until he tripped in the sand of the playground. You took this as your chance to take your toy back. You snatched the little race car from his hands, grabbed some sand, and threw it in his hair before your hand formed a little fist and hit him in the arm.

Marcus let out another annoying laugh, before the following remark left his mouth, “You hit like a girl!”

This caused you to become even more upset at the boy, who had wasted half your recess and stole the toy you were going to play with. Your response was to muster all the strength you had and hit him again. This time he wasn’t laughing, “Ow!” He cried out.

You let out a “Hmmph” as you stared at the boy who was clutching his arm, a satisfied smile on your face. Your dad had taught you well.

The boy looked up at you, and your satisfied smile was returned with a matching grin, causing your own to falter.

“Why are you smiling at me like that?” You questioned the boy, sass dripping from the words you spoke.

“Wanna be friends?” He asked with a villainous giggle.

“I just hit you, and you wanna be friends?” Confusion was written all over your face.

“Well yeah, your second punch actually kinda hurt, so I need you as my friend now.” He laughed.

You thought it over for a second, “Sure,” You shrugged.

You held your hand out to help Marcus up, he accepted the gesture, albeit he pulled you into the sand, causing you to yelp in shock. “Hey!” You shouted at him as he burst into laughter, before throwing sand at you.

“Now, we're even.” He smirked at you, before getting up and helping you up as well.

“Fine, let’s hurry up and play, you already wasted half of our recess!” You told him off as you both walked to a nearby bench.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You were abruptly woken up from your sleep to hands shaking your shoulders.

“Get up loser, or we’re gonna be late.” You heard Marcus say before you had even opened your eyes.

“Shut up.” You responded before turning away from him.

“I got you your favorite,” He told you, as he walked over to the other side of your bed, you were now met with him shoving a drink in your face.

That was all it took for you to sit up. “Alright come on, I do not want another detention with Mr. Peterson.”

“Fine,” You sighed, getting up from the comfort of your queen bed.

You went to your bathroom, quickly doing your daily morning routine, before walking back into your room, Marcus sitting on your bed, back against the headboard.

“Hand me my phone, please,” You said, Marcus handing it to you.

You turned your phone on, and 6:00 was read on the screen. “Marcus you’re fucking with me, we still have like 2 hours until school starts.” You rolled your eyes at your best friend.

“Exactly, you take forever to get ready, Y/n, you can’t even lie. Now hurry up and start getting ready before we really are late.” He waved a hand at you.

You ignored the boy, heading downstairs, and were greeted by your parents in the kitchen.

“Morning sweetheart your mom made breakfast,” He nodded toward the two plates on the island, before he kissed your cheek, which brought a smile to your lips.

“Morning, and thank you, Mom,” You hugged her, before grabbing the two plates and making your way upstairs and back to your room. Marcus practically lived at your house, rather than his own which was a couple of feet away, and your parents knew this. You and Marcus had been attached at the hip since you were younger, nothing being able to break your friendship. You figured Marcus always stayed over at your house because you guys were inseparable, but also because Maxine annoyed the shit out of Marcus with her need to always be the center of attention.

Marcus had already turned on the tv, your guy's favorite show playing as he sat on your now-made bed, one of your bed trays unfolded over his lap, as he waited for his plate.

You placed your own plate on your makeup vanity, placing his on the tray, “Thanks, bub”

You respond with an “mhm” as you took a seat at your vanity nibbling at your breakfast while you apply your makeup, occasionally glancing at the tv.

Once you had finished your makeup, you rummaged through your closet looking for something to wear.

You had shown Marcus the two outfits you had been debating on wearing, “Which one do you think?”

“Mmm, the second one, it brings out your eyes.” He said with a small smile.

“Alright,” You murmured, heading to the bathroom to change.

As you looked at the time it was 8 o’clock.

“Shit, we gotta go.”

Marcus and you made your way downstairs, bidding your parents goodbye, and getting into your car. Marcus had gotten a motorcycle a couple of months ago but didn’t have his license. You were older than him by a few months, so you’d already had your license.

As the both of you got settled into the car, Marcus connected to the Bluetooth, playing the playlist he’d made for you, which consisted of some songs he liked, and a majority of the songs were ones that he knew you liked.

As you drove you could feel Marcus’s eyes on you. When you were stopped at a red light you turned to him, “What?”

“What do you mean?” He questioned you, eyebrows raised in confusion.

“I can feel you staring at me, you weirdo.” You laughed.

“You wish,” He scoffed, a smirk on his face. “No, but I was just thinking about how you don’t even really need makeup, I mean you look good with it, but you also look good without it.” He said with a clear of his throat, before turning to look out the window.

“Oh, thanks…” You said, turning to face the road ahead of you as you felt your heart flutter at his words.

You pulled into the school parking lot, driving around like a crazed maniac as you looked for a parking spot, “I told you we were gonna be late.”

“We still have like 2 minutes,” You said, as you pulled into a parking spot.

“Yeah, and our classes are like halfway across campus.”

“Shut up, we're wasting time.”

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

You met with Marcus at your usual lunch table, which was isolated from the rest of the tables. The table sat right under a big oak tree, whereas the other tables were a long way from it. You walked through the grass field until you made it to the table where Marcus sat scribbling in his sketchbook.

“Hey, what are you drawing?”

“Holy fuck, you scared the shit out of me, Y/n!” His hand flew to his chest, as you laughed at the boy.

“Sorry, you must’ve been really focused,” You murmured before taking a bite of your lunch.

You reached over the table to try and get a look at his sketch but before you could he slammed the book shut.

“Alright,” You said, returning to your spot on the opposite end of the table.

It was quiet for a moment as you both ate, however you interrupted it with a question, “Who was it, Padma?”

Marcus looked up at you, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “What no, it was no one.” He responded and you knew not to press him any further about it.

“And how do you even know about me and Padma?”

“I mean it’s pretty obvious, Marcus, for example, that hickey on your collarbone, I’m not stupid.” You said with raised eyebrows.

“I never said you were.” He responded gruffly.

You bit back a response, “And it’s none of your business either way.” He muttered with a shake of his head.

You purse your lips, unsure of how to respond.

“And me and Padma are nothing compared to you and Hunter.” He said which caused a scoff to fall from your lips.

“You’re insane Marcus Baker. Hunter and I are just friends.”

“Yeah, like me and Padma are just friends.”

You shook your head at his response, “Just like you were ‘friends’ with all the girls before Padma.”

You knew he and Padma had been seeing each other for a while now, but you’d never brought it up because you wanted Marcus to tell you. He had slowly been spending less and less time with you, always running off to do god knows what with her. However today, you’d just been tired of it, you had thought you guys told each other everything but maybe you were wrong. You had seen a glimpse of the drawing but it was clearly Padma. It irked you, and you weren’t quite sure why. Padma wasn’t the first girl Marcus had been with, there had been many before her. He thought he was good at hiding his flings but he wasn’t.

Truly you didn’t even know why he felt the need to hide them from you. You were his best friend.

“Honestly, I don’t know why you hid it from me or why you even felt the need to hide it from me, Marcus, I mean we’re best friends, I don’t understand-” Before you could say anything else Marcus stood up, leaving the Capri Sun that came with his lunch because he knew you loved them, before taking off.

You let out a sigh, using the straw attached to the Capri Sun and poking it in the pouch. You sipped on the juice, you were so deep in thought you didn’t realize Hunter was now standing beside you.

“Hey, you alright?” He questioned, taking a seat beside you.

“Yeah, ’m fine.” You said letting out a soft sigh as you stared at the bark of the tree in front of you.

“Well it’s Friday, Happy Friday, so turn that frown upside down!” He exclaimed, to which you awkwardly laughed, unsure of how else to respond to Hunter’s weird antics.

“You know I think I have just the thing to cheer you up,” He continued.

“Really, what-” You were interrupted by his lips being pressed against yours.

You pulled away once you realized what was happening, “Oh my god, Hunter, what the hell, dude!?”

“What, I thought you- I must’ve read-”

“Yeah, Hunter, you thought wrong, I- I don’t like you like that!” You exclaimed.

“Oh, I’m so sorry, Y/n, I should- I should go,” He gestured, to which you nodded.

You let your head fall into your hands, “What the hell just happened…” You murmured.

The rest of your classes had gone by dreadfully slow, with not much happening in your classes.

You were now seated in your car waiting for Marcus. You looked up from your phone to see him getting into Padma’s SUV.

“Wow, really, Marcus…” You grumbled.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

It had been a few days and Marcus hadn’t talked to you, texted you, or even opened his curtains because your windows faced each other. This had never really happened before so you weren’t quite sure what to do, in the numerous messages you’d sent him you’d apologized about bringing up Padma and all his ex flings. Once a week had passed you were now annoyed.

“You know what, I’m not even gonna apologize anymore, y’know, why should I if he’s gonna ignore me anyways, might as well save my breath.” You ranted to Silver, you were both comfortably seated on a couch which was in one of the numerous hallways of Wellsbury High.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen him like this before, maybe he just needs some space?”

“He’s never needed space before, I just can’t believe he’s acting like this just because of what, me talking about Padma? God, he can be so infuriating sometimes, ugh!”

“What if, what if this is it? Almost 10 years of friendship down the drain over some dumb shit…” You said your eyes began to water, you glanced away, blinking to clear the tears.

“I’m sure he’ll talk to you soon, y/n/n, he’s just being dramatic, don’t worry,” She attempted to reassure you, her hand gently caressing your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You sighed, “Enough about me, what’s happening with you and Maxine?” You questioned after clearing your throat, ridding yourself of the emotion that had been previously heard in your voice.

“I don’t even know, sometimes I think she’s into me and then other times she’s talking about Sophie, I think she’s still in love with her.” She sighed.

“It’s her loss, you’re seriously amazing, Silver.”

“Thanks, if you weren’t so hung up on Marcus, I’d think you’d have a crush on me,” She giggled jestingly.

“What, me and Marcus, psst, yeah right. Like we’d ever be together, I- I can’t even picture it,” You shook your head.

“Mhmm, girl, you are head over heels for him and vice versa.”

“Now that’s absurd, Marcus is with Padma.” You once again shook your head ‘no’.

“Have you ever actually seen them, y’know kiss?” Silver inquired.

“Well no, but when he’s not with me, he’s with her and he’s been spending a lot less time with me.” You countered.

“Well, maybe they’re just friends, like how you and Marcus are just friends.” She raised her eyebrows.

You scoffed not believing for one second that Marcus and Padma were nothing but friends. As you were about to speak up once again, you saw a figure hurry past you, a figure that looked oddly like Marcus.

“I‘ve gotta go Silver, thanks for letting me rant to you, I’ll talk to you later.” You smiled in appreciation at the girl before hurriedly following the form ahead of you.

“Marcus?” You called out to the person, who seemingly began walking faster. It was definitely him. “Marcus! Stop, we need to talk!” You shouted at him, speeding up to grab his shoulder, and turning him to face you.

“What’s there to talk about?” He retorted, a glare besmirching his face.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Marcus.”

“I don’t need to Y/n, I have nothing to say to you.”

“Really? So that’s it. 8 years of friendship down the drain, because of what - a stupid fucking remark I made?” Marcus rolled his eyes, “Wow, I cannot believe this,” You shook your head in disbelief.

“I really don’t understand why you’re so touchy about your relationships, Marcus, but fine if that’s how you wanna be then I won’t bother you anymore.” Marcus stood silently, his face still formed in a scowl.

“I’m not gonna keep trying to mend our friendship if you’re not gonna bother to try either.”

“That’s the fucking problem Y/n I don’t give a shit to fucking fix our friendship, okay? And you, you are a fucking lying hypocrite!” He snapped at you, you took a step back at his accusatory tone.

“What the hell are you even on about Marcus, if you don’t wanna fix our fucking friendship then what the hell are we doing still talking?” You angrily muttered, your eyes beginning to glimmer as tears formed, hurt by your ex-best friend's words.

The hallways that were once filled with students, were suddenly deserted, neither of you heard the shrill ring of the bell, signaling the end of lunch.

You attempted to blink away the tears, turning away from Marcus as he went on, “I saw you and Hunter that day. You said there was nothing going on between you two. You lied to my fucking face, Y/n.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Not even 5 minutes later and you’re kissing him.”

“I-“

“And don’t even try to deny it, Y/n, I fucking saw you both, with my own eyes, okay?”

You huffed, multiple feelings coursing through you, “Clearly you didn’t see everything, or else you would’ve seen me shoving him off of me, you asshole!” You yelled at him, tired of being called a liar.

“Yeah right, Y/n.” He scoffed at you.

“God, I cannot fathom this,” You shook your head tired of this nonsense.

“If you want ask Hunter yourself for all I fucking care! I cannot believe I’m the hypocrite and liar when you’re the one lying about your relationship with Padma while walking around with fucking hickeys from her!”

“It wasn’t a fucking hickey, I fell off my skateboard and ate shit. And Padma and I are just friends, I don’t even have to fucking explain myself to you!”

“Neither do I!” You growled at him, through gritted teeth.

Your screaming match had caught the attention of multiple security guards, resulting in getting written up and sent to the principal’s office for skipping class, profanity, and a long list of other supposed offenses.

You and Marcus sat across from each other in uncomfortable hard plastic chairs that decorated the hall just outside the principal’s office.

“This is all your fault.” He spoke up after the long silence that had followed your fight.

You rolled your eyes at him, choosing to remain silent.

“If you had just left me alone and taken a hint this would’ve never happened.”

“Oh, well sorry for trying to be a decent human being and apologize and try to resolve our problems, oh, I don’t know, fix our fucking friendship.” You sarcastically muttered, words filled with venom.

Marcus was the one rolling his eyes now.

“You were just trying to make yourself feel better. All that lying and kissing Hunter and god knows who else probably made you feel guilty.” He scowled.

You didn’t hear the door of the Principal’s office open too blinded by fury. Before you could stop yourself, your hand was already meeting Marcus’s cheek.

“Ms. Y/l/n! You are suspended, effective immediately!” The Principal demanded in a raised voice.

You pulled your hand away from Marcus, both of your faces wearing nothing but shock on them. A red flush complimented Marcus’s face on the cheek which had been met with your palm.

The same palm stung with a slight pain, making you question how hard you had slapped him. Your eyes watered once again, as Marcus turned to face you, jaw clenched.

Had you really just slapped him? What the hell was wrong with you, you thought to yourself.

Marcus’s eyebrows were pulled together in what you could only assume was anger, however, it wasn’t anger but worry. Were you really telling the truth about you and Hunter? Did he push you too far? Would you guys even be able to come back from this after everything that had been said?

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Throughout your week of suspension, you had done nothing but lie in bed all day. When you went home that day, your parents had called you not long after you had arrived. The school had notified them of your suspension, the actions which led to the suspension, and that they’d sent you home immediately. To say they were upset was an understatement.

They couldn’t believe that you would slap Marcus. They were confused, and you were a little as well, still shocked at the fact that you had really slapped him. You remembered when you were younger and hit him, but that was different, you were a child who didn’t know how to contain themselves.

That evening you did nothing but cry, you felt so guilty for hitting your once best friend. Sad that your friendship was over. Mad at yourself for losing control and getting suspended.

It had been 6 days into your suspension, you hadn’t talked to anyone since that day, not even your parents, choosing to lock yourself in your room. Your curtains had been shut, not bothering to peek out the window and see what Marcus had been up to.

He had been debating going over to your house, and when he saw Hunter pull up in his SUV, anger began to fill him.

He knew it, you were lying and to think he had begun to feel sorry for all the things he’d said to you.

“Hey, Marcus!” The boy called out to him, simultaneously running up to him.

“Y/n lives in this house right?” He questioned as he pointed in the direction of the girl's house.

Marcus shook his head no, “Really? Silver must’ve given me the wrong address by accident.”

Marcus nodded silently, jaw clenched in anger which he tried his best to conceal.

“Anyways how’s Y/n? Did she tell you about what happened? Have you guys even talked since?”

“She didn’t need to tell me, I saw.” He responded by choosing to only answer that question.

“You did? Oh, shit man, I’m sorry, I guess I interpreted things wrong. I really liked her, but I shouldn’t have just kissed her like that, and I should’ve known she didn’t like me like that. I mean with how she looks at you she probably has feelings for you anyways, and she pushed me off her man, I didn’t mean to cause problems between you two.” He rambled on.

Marcus was taken aback by the words Hunter had said, “What the fuck did you just say?” He growled at the boy.

“What? That I kissed Y/n, I thought you said you saw?”

“Not that part dumbass, the part where she pushed you off her.”

“Well yeah man, I was tryna’ cheer her up and I thought we had y’know a mutual liking for each other so I just kissed her,” He shrugged.

“Why the fuck would you kiss her, let alone without asking her.” He spat out at the boy.

Before Hunter could say anything else, Marcus swung at him, hitting him straight in the nose, causing Hunter to stumble back.

“What the fuck, bro!?” He shouted, clutching his now bleeding and probably broken nose.

“I’m not your fucking bro. And that’s what you get for fucking touching Y/n without her consent, dickhead.” He angrily told the boy, before Hunter then took off toward his car.

He couldn’t fucking believe Hunter. Or himself. He should’ve believed Y/n, she had never lied to him before but he was so blinded by anger and his feelings for her that he had refused to accept the truth.

However, it was Padma that made him realize and accept his feelings for his best friend. He was telling the truth about him and Padma, they truly were just friends. Albeit he had intentionally been spending more time with her to try and make Y/n jealous in an attempt to get her to reciprocate the feelings which Marcus felt for her.

He couldn’t believe what a fucking idiot he was. And did Y/n have feelings for him too? Padma, Silver, Maxine, and now Hunter had claimed the girl was in love with him as well, but he figured there was no way a girl as amazing as his best friend felt anything for him.

But maybe they were right. All he knew was that he had to apologize to Y/n, beg for her forgiveness, and attempt to mend their relationship. Marcus had never been one for prayer but now he prayed that he hadn’t fucked up too terribly and that Y/n could find it in her heart to forgive him.

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Marcus skipped school the next day. He knew it was your last day of suspension and he reckoned he’d apologize, however, he figured it’d be better to show up with something rather than empty-handed. Marcus would do anything for you to forgive him, including bribing you with your favorite things.

He had already gotten your favorite flowers, candy, and another stuffed animal to add to your endless collection of them. He had also gotten you some eyebrow thing that he knew you had run out of the week before, as well as a little headband thing the sales lady told him you’d like. He had also created a playlist for you filled with songs he thought you’d like because he knew you had been wanting to find some new music to listen to, getting tired of some of the songs you had been listening to on repeat for a month now. He had drawn the Spotify barcode to the songs and labeled them with various text, like ‘listen to me, when you feel sad,” or “listen to me, when you want to escape reality for a little bit,”. He had put all the codes in a jar for you. The last thing he had gotten for you, was a drawing he’d done of you.

He’d put everything but your flowers in a gift bag in your favorite color. He had decided that it may be best to knock on your front door rather than going through your window, unsure if that would upset you seeing as you were - well he wasn’t sure what the two of you were anymore. If there were two of you anymore.

Marcus swallowed the lump in his throat, his fist met your front door as he repeated his apology in his head like a mantra. The knock on the door was met with nothing other than silence. Which prompted Marcus to knock on the door once again. There was still no response, so he resorted to calling you, albeit you didn’t answer. You left him with no choice. He made his way up and through your window, barely managing to keep your flowers and other gifts intact.

He was expecting to get yelled at as he set foot on the wood flooring of your room, but it was quiet and you were nowhere to be found. Marcus knew if you weren’t in your room you were most likely sitting on your back porch, sometimes you’d sit out there and curl up with the most recent book you couldn’t seem to put down, or just feel the wind kiss your skin as you watched the sunset. If not that, you’d be laying in the hammock that the two of you had begged your parents to get when you were 12. Marcus would often join you out there, only needing each other's company and nothing more.

As Marcus made his way through your house and to the french doors that led to your back porch he immediately spotted you sitting on the loveseat which faced your backyard. He pushed the doors open gently, not wanting to frighten you, he knew you got easily scared.

“Y/n/n?” He gently let your name escape his lips. You slightly jumped at the voice that sounded from behind you. You turn to face Marcus, face set in a stern glare, as you refused to meet his eyes. “Here to call me a lying hypocrite again?” You crossed your arms against your chest, in an attempt to keep your guard up, and not give in to the puppy eyes Marcus was giving you.

“Bub, I’m really sorry,” Marcus apologized, holding the flowers out for you to take.

“I don’t want your apology flowers, Marcus, and don’t call me bub, I’m not your bub anymore. I’m not your anything anymore, you made that clear when you didn’t care to try and fix our friendship.” You spat at the boy, shivering slightly as the wind began to pick up.

“That’s the thing, Y/n/n, I said I didn’t care to fix our friendship, because-”

“I really don’t want to hear it, Marcus,” You interrupted him, hugging yourself to try and get some warmth in the cold of the afternoon.

“Here,” He set your present down, pulled his hoodie off, and offered it to you.

You swatted the jacket away, “I don’t need your jacket Marcus, I’m fine.”

“Y/n you’re shaking. Take the jacket.” He held it out again.

“No, Marcus I don’t want your stupid jacket, matter of fact, I don’t even want to look at your stupid face!” You hissed at him through trembles.

“Y/n come on, stop being stubborn, you’re gonna get sick.”

“No, Marcus, just- just leave me alone, okay? Don’t call me, don’t come by my house, we’re done.”

(A/N: LMAO, did y’all get the reference? I couldn’t help myself, haha)

“No, Y/n, we're not done until you hear me out, okay, and then I will leave you alone if that’s what you really want…” Marcus said, “Now, please, either put my jacket on or let’s go inside and talk about this.”

You glared at the boy, shoving his jacket toward him again and walking inside the house.

You stood, arms crossed, still quivering.

Marcus had your gift in his hand and his jacket in the other.

Instead of trying to get you to put his hoodie on, he walked toward you and pulled it over your head. You let out a sigh, adjusting the hoodie on yourself. “Fine. Talk.”

“I’m sorry. I should have believed you when you said you and Hunter were just friends. I-I talked to him yesterday, and he told me what happened, what he did.”

“Is that why your hand is bruised?”

“Uh, yeah…”

“Does it hurt?”

“A little,”

“Good.”

Marcus laughed, “That’s fair, I guess.”

You rolled your eyes, annoyed that the boy would hurt himself for you. You walked to the freezer, as you two were stood in the dining area beside the kitchen. You grabbed a bag of frozen peas and handed them to Marcus. He exchanged the peas for your gift, placing the bag of frozen peas on his hand to soothe it.

“Well, thanks, for punching him for me, I never even really liked him as a friend, but I didn’t really know how to tell him that.” You said, rubbing your arm, feeling awkward.

“Yeah, he’s a dipshit for kissing you like that.” Marcus shook his head.

“I’m sorry, Y/n I said some shit I didn’t mean because- I, I-” Marcus’s mouth opened and shut repeatedly as he attempted to get the words out. He shook his head, slightly flustered before he gestured to the gift in your hands.

You looked down at the gift bag in your hands, eyebrows pulled together in confusion. You removed the gift tissue from the bag, eyeing the various objects in the bag. You pulled out the various things in the bag, placing them on your kitchen island.

Your eyebrows scrunched up, how’d he know you need this? Or how did he know you had been wanting that plushy? “Y/n I don’t notice the small things you like, need, or do, because I’m your best friend. I notice how you play with your hair when you’re nervous, or how you bite your lip when you’re concentrated, how you rub your arm when you feel awkward, because, I love you, Y/n.”

“When I said I didn’t care to fix our friendship, I said it because, I don’t want to be your friend.”

“What- what are you saying, Marcus?” You gaze into the boy’s eyes.

Marcus steps closer to you, “Y/n, I am madly, deeply, overwhelmingly, in love with you. I want to be more than just your friend, and I’m sorry I ever hurt you, I just got so jealous and let my anger get the best of me. It took me a long time to realize that I’ve been in love with you since that day you punched me on the playground.” He let out a slight chuckle.

“No, you can’t be in love with me Marcus, okay? You’re, you’re with Padma, and she- she doesn’t deserve this. And you and me, we’re friends, that’s it. That’s all we’ve ever been,” You shook your head at the boy.

“Y/n, I swear to you, Padma and I are just friends. I mean she’s the reason I realized I was in love with you…”

You took in a shaky breath, shaking your head as you brought your hands up to your temples.

“Y/n, it’s okay, everything is alright,” He said, his hands placed on your shoulders.

“No, Marcus, everything is not alright, okay. This- this is not alright, this isn’t supposed to happen. We are friends. A relationship between us wouldn’t work, I mean were both too stubborn for our own good, and if we were to ever break up… we’d lose each other as more than friends, and friends. I mean ex’s can’t be friends, and-”

Marcus stopped your rambling, shutting you up by placing his lips on yours. His kiss took you back, literally, as your legs slightly trembled, causing you to take a step back. Marcus remained still, giving you a chance to pull away from the kiss, however, you did the opposite, returning the kiss and pulling him closer to you as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. You both poured all your love into the kiss, his hands cupping your face to deepen the kiss, your own running through his hair. You both pulled away to take a breath of air, foreheads leaning against each other.

“I- I love you too Marcus, since the day you stole that toy car from me.” You sighed in contentment finally being able to get those words off your chest after all these years.

You grinned tears of joy in your eyes. A tear ran down your cheek, prompting Marcus to swipe it away. You both had matching grins on your face, sitting at the island, as you began to really notice the jar and what was in it. The label on the jar read, “ Songs you’ll love as much as I love you.” While you were admiring the jar filled with music, Marcus pulled the drawing of you toward him, holding it in his hands. “This was what I had drawn that day at lunch. It wasn’t a drawing of Padma, it was a drawing of you. It’s always been you, Y/n.”

“Oh my god, that’s why you didn’t want me to see it… wow, you made me look so beautiful...” You murmured in amazement.

“You are beautiful, bub. You’re everything good in the world and more. And I have no idea how you thought I had been drawing Padma. Padma is pretty, but you- you’re ethereally beautiful, Y/n. You mean everything to me, and I never want you to ever think otherwise.”

“You mean everything to me too, bub. Nobody gets me like you…”

。ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ

A/N: This didn’t turn out how I planned, or how I really wanted, but I haven’t posted this week, and I’ve been trying to post every week, so I just decided I’d post it. I might rewrite it and post the other version later, or I might just write another best-friends-to-lovers trope, we’ll see.

Also, how do we feel about the use of you instead of Y/N, I don’t know how to feel about it… this was my first time describing the reader as you instead of Y/n, so yeah!

456 notes · View notes

carlsdarling · 6 months

Text

She-Wolf Part II

Y/N does everything - literally everything - to finally be with Carl… Everyone is 18 or over.

WARNINGS: violence, angst, gore, Yandere!Reader

In the aftermath of this event, Ron spoke to Carl when the two of them were on a tour a few days later. "Carl, I think there's something wrong with Y/N," he said worriedly as they rummaged through a grocery store.

"What do you mean?" Carl asked, uncomprehending.

Ron tapped his forehead. "I don't think she's quite normal." He told Carl about your tantrum.

"Girls," Carl dismissed it with a casual wave of his hand. "It's probably just hormones. Enid is often bitchy too. Martha's quite different," he said.

Ron remained silent. He disagreed, but he realized that he couldn't explain to Carl exactly what had scared him so much: Not the fact that you'd been yelling and throwing the Coke can at the tree, but the intense darkness in your eyes. There was something inside you, something sinister and deathly that sent a shiver down Ron's spine.

"Maybe you shouldn't have let Y/N in," Ron said thoughtfully.

Carl stared at him indignantly. "Now stop that bullshit, Ron," he scolded. "Let's go over to the department store, I want to look for a present for Martha. It's her birthday soon." Ron complied and said nothing more.

Enid also noticed some signs of concern in the time that followed, and although she was still angry with Carl for dumping her for Martha, she took him aside to talk to him. "Carl, be careful," she warned, "I don't like the way Y/N is looking at you and Martha. I think she's obsessed with you."

"Rubbish," Carl fought back. "I'm not even sure if Y/N even has a crush on me, or if Martha just imagines it," he stated. "Either way, she knows I'm in a relationship."

"Just watch out," Enid repeated. "I think you're asking for trouble. Maybe you shouldn't always kiss Martha in public." She had observed that you eyed Martha with hatred whenever you thought you were not being watched.

"You're just jealous," Carl accused her.

"I don't have to put up with that," Enid countered angrily and walked away. "Don't say later that I didn't warn you."

***

Just one day later, you put your plan into action. You knew Martha would be on guard duty that night, and Rick and Michonne were out scavenging for medicine. So Carl would be home alone with Judith, the opportunity was favorable. You carefully chose your outfit - tight jeans and a black, cropped top. Underneath, you wore fiery red underwear, you carefully arranged your hair and spent a lot of time on your make-up. As you applied your lipstick, you smiled at yourself in the mirror. You were a hot piece of shit, irresistible, and Carl wouldn't be able to withstand you. You would seduce him and tell him that you loved him, and he would fall for you, and he wouldn't give a second thought to boring Martha. Before you left the house, you sprayed on your favorite perfume, then floated elf-like through the streets of Alexandria until you reached Carl's house. The first floor was dark, only the rooms upstairs were lit. Bravely, you rang the doorbell.

Nothing happened. You took a few steps back and looked up at the front of the house. Maybe Carl was bathing Judith. You vigorously pressed the bell button again, then you heard a window on the upper floor being pushed open. "Who's there?" Carl called out. He sounded stressed.

"It's just me, Y/N," you shouted.

"What's the matter?" asked Carl in astonishment. "I'm just putting Judith to bed."

"I was only going to talk to you," you claimed. Carl was silent for a few seconds. "Wait a minute, I'm coming downstairs," he then said tonelessly. A few minutes later, he opened the door and gazed at you, perplexed. "What's wrong?" he finally asked. He made no move to invite you in.

"Can I come in?" you asked softly. He hesitated before wordlessly stepping aside. He pointed to the door to the living room. You took a seat on the couch while Carl stood with his arms crossed and eyed you expectantly. He looked so adorable with his messy hair, rosy lips and his usual outfit of jeans, flannel and shirt. Invitingly, you moved to one side of the sofa. "Won't you sit next to me?" you tempted him and provocatively let your top slide down.

Carl turned red and his face showed a complicated sequence of different emotions. His mouth opened and closed a few times. "Umm, Y/N... I don't think this is a good idea," he mumbled, trying to bring more distance between you and him, but you stood up and approached him, playing with your hair.

"We could have fun, Carl," you purred, "I've been dying to tell you - I like you. I like you a lot." You tilted your head flirtatiously, then tried to kiss Carl, but he dodged you.

"You know I'm with Martha, Y/N," he clarified. "This ain't working."

"Oh, forget about fucking Martha," you hissed. Your face had suddenly contorted into a grimace, and Carl winced. "She's ugly, dumpy and boring. Stop letting her constrict you; she's not worth it."

"You've got that wrong," Carl replied in dismay. "I love her. I'm sorry, Y/N, but that's the way it is. I think it's better if you leave now." He pointed to the door.

"But..." you started.

"I won't tell anyone about tonight, but you're leaving now," Carl ordered.

You hadn't expected that and, full of disbelief and anger, you made your way home. When you got home, you shrieked with rage and threw the sofa cushions across the living room. That damn Martha! What did Carl see in her? Maybe she was blackmailing him with something, but you would figure it out. It was an unalterable fact that you and Carl belonged together. His rejection couldn't be meant seriously.

***

During the next weeks, it didn't escape Martha's attention that you still adored Carl, and eventually she decided to confront you. Rick and Maggie had assigned you a job at the stables, since you - like Maggie - had grown up on a farm with horses and knew how to handle them. It was already dawn when you mucked out the last horse boxes. Your hair was in a bun, but sweaty strands kept falling into your face and you impatiently brushed them aside, all the while wondering when and how you could finally free Carl from that dreadful Martha. Little did you know that Martha would make it easy for you.

"Step aside, Starlight," you murmured and pushed against the black stallion's shoulder. The stallion sniffed suspiciously and pricked up his ears as if he had heard a noise. You listened, then you heard it too: footsteps approached the door, then a shadow appeared in the doorway. Outside, the darkness had descended. You blinked in irritation as you recognized Martha, who was slowly coming towards you. As always, she looked inconspicuous; her hair flat, no make-up, completely meaningless and without charisma. Hatred was burning inside you. She simply didn't deserve Carl!

"Hello, Y/N," Martha greeted you coldly.

"What do you want?" you snapped as you closed Starlight's box and leaned the pitchfork against the wall.

"We should talk," Martha began. "I want you to stop prowling around Carl like a bitch in heat. He doesn't want anything from you."

"He really does? Is that so?" you replied with a sneer. "You don't know a thing."

"Carl loves me," Martha said smugly. Her stupid face was adorned with a foolish smile.

"That can be changed, if it's even true," you replied venomously.

"Who do you think you are?" Martha attacked you harshly. "You can't come here and lay claim to my boyfriend! Carl has chosen me and you have to accept it!"

"Your days with Carl are over," you said tersely. "Look at yourself in the mirror."

"I really feel sorry for you, Y/N," Martha shook her head. "It must be hard for you. I'll just tell you one more time: stay away from Carl!" She turned to leave.

"Or what?"

Martha wheeled around. "Or you'll get to know me!"

"Oh, you think I'm afraid of you?" You laughed. Martha actually had no idea what you were like.

"I'll tell everyone how disturbed and pathetic you are," Martha warned, heading for the door. How could she think she could threaten you? She was nothing but a weak, dumb parasite!

You looked around frantically and your eyes fell on a small hatchet hanging on a hook on the wall. You grabbed it in a second and rushed after Martha. You caught up with her before she reached the door, but she must have heard you because she turned around. Her mouth opened in horror when she saw you, your right hand raised high with the hatchet. Martha didn't even have time to scream - the hatchet came down and split her skull almost to the root of her nose. She stared at you with an expression of incredulous astonishment as blood and brain matter streamed down her plain face, then she staggered, rolled her eyes and fell to the ground, where she gave a few last convulsions and then lay still.

Your heart raced. Hastily, you pulled the hatchet out of Martha's head; there was a sickening smacking sound and a pool of blood spread across the floor. What were you supposed to do with the body? That hadn't been the plan, even if it did solve your biggest problem – how to get rid of Martha. But if you were caught now, you would have no future with Carl anyway because you would be imprisoned or banished from Alexandria. You sighed in frustration. Your life was so complicated; it just wasn't fair.

The old well behind the stables came to mind. A deep hole in the ground, covered with rotten wooden planks. No one would look for Martha there. You grabbed her hands and dragged her with a groan out of the building, leaving a trail of blood on the floor. You'd have to clean this place soon. You broke out in a sweat, from stress and also from exertion, because Martha's body was heavy. You fought your way through the high grass, passing a rusty combine harvester, then pulled the lid of the well far enough aside so that you could maneuver the body into it. Martha slid through the hole and, satisfied, you heard her body land with a thud at the bottom. You placed the wooden planks back over the well. Then you returned to the stable, where you poured water on the floor and used the broom to clean up all the blood. You also wiped the blood off the hatchet. Why did murder have to be this filthy? It was so annoying! You had planned to watch a movie tonight, but now you could forget about it because you had to clean up this damn mess.

But Carl was finally yours. You had saved him. He just didn't know it yet.

Tags: @taylormarieee @knochentrocken0808 @tessasweet @loveforcarl @xxcarlswifexx @elisiassideb1tch

#the walking dead #twd #carl grimes fanfiction #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes #carl grimes x y/n #carl grimes imagines #carl fanfiction #carl grimes smut #she-wolf

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renecdote · 10 months

Text

inertia

“Eddie.” He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie. “Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please— For BTHB: vehicular accident

[Read on AO3]

More than anything, Buck remembers the noise: the roar of the engine, a car horn, the squeal of tires, his heart pounding in his ears. Sirens, minutes and seconds later, and someone cursing at him before they got there, “you should look where you’re fucking going, fucking asshole motorbike riders—”

He knows that it hurt, his jeans shredded over bloody skin, his lip split, his arm broken in two places, every inch of him bruised and aching. He knows that it hurt because of course it did, it was probably agonising right up until the morphine kicked in, but he doesn’t remember the pain.

He wonders, now, how he ever could have forgotten it.

****

Eddie reaches out, fiddling with the radio until he finds a station he likes, then turning the volume up just one digit, as if that makes any kind of difference.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

Buck shoots him a grin. “I told you: it’s a surprise.”

Eddie huffs, the same way he did the first four times he asked and got the same answer. “I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t,” Buck laughs. “You just want everyone to think you hate surprises because you get embarrassingly gooey about them.”

The flash of a passing streetlight shows Eddie’s face cast in exaggerated affront. “Gooey,” he repeats. “I don’t—I’m not gooey, Buck.”

He is. Buck has the photos and videos to prove it.

“Don’t worry, Eds,” he says. “I think you’re cute when you’re gooey.”

Eddie rolls his eyes, but he turns his head and rubs at his cheek in a way that means he’s probably hiding a pleased little smile. It’s still new: making Eddie smile like that. Going on dates. Holding hands, and sneaking kisses in-between the engines, and waking up wrapped around each other. Buck wishes he could hit pause on every moment between them, just so he can live in it a little bit longer.

He slows down for a yellow light, coming to a stop as it turns red.

“Can you at least give me a clue?” Eddie tries.

“Nope,” Buck laughs. “Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course I trust you,” Eddie grumbles.

The light turns green.

Buck accelerates into the intersection.

Eddie’s eyes widen in alarm, a shout forming but never making it past his lips, his hand half raised like he can—what?

Buck never even sees the crash coming.

****

The Jeep is still registered in Maddie’s name. That’s Buck’s first thought when the tires skid on the icy road, adrenaline suddenly pumping hard and fast as he grips the wheel. He’s going to end up wrapped around a tree, the Jeep totalled, and it’s going to be Maddie’s problem because the car is still registered in her name.

He has a sudden flash of memory: his mom standing in the doorway, yelling at him not to run, snow cold and wet soaking through the mesh in his sneakers as he ran to the bus stop down the road. She never came with him. It was always Maddie who held his hand while they walked, heavy backpacks bouncing on their shoulders, but his mom stood in the doorway of their house and watched until the doors of the school bus closed behind them.

Buck wonders who will tell his parents that he’s dead. Wonders how they’ll react. They’ll probably be glad, he thinks. And then he feels like an asshole for thinking that. (But can’t stop thinking it.)

The Jeep is slipping, slipping, slipping.

Buck fights the gut-reaction to twist the wheel hard, arms locked tight as he holds it steady, foot off the gas, braking carefully, carefully, carefully.

The road around him is dark. Empty. The Jeep’s headlights reflect off a sign: ICE in bold letters below the squiggly black lines of a skidding car. Hysterical, adrenaline-tinged laughter bubbles in Buck’s chest. Too little too late, he thinks. He turns the wheel left and the back of the car swings to the right and—

Another hundred yards and he would have been sinking into an icy river. Would have been dead, probably, pulled out in his Jeep hours or days later, his body cold and blue. He’s lucky, really, that the snowbank got to him first.

****

His ears are ringing.

There’s a little voice in the back of his head—the same voice that points out emergency exits and fire extinguishers whenever he goes somewhere new—that reminds him that it’s normal, that it probably just means the airbags deployed. But it’s hard to hear anything through the ringing, including the voice in his own head. Buck fights against the disorientation, the pain, the starbursts of light in his vision, the high-pitched whine in his ears and the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. He wonders, for three disoriented seconds, whether he’s back in the tsunami: turned around and upside down, caught in a whirlpool beyond his control, can’t win, can’t breathe, can’t swim.

But there’s blood in his mouth.

There’s blood in his mouth, and he clawed his way out of that ocean, clawed at the muddy ground, and Eddie got shot in the street in broad daylight, and—

“Eddie.”

He feels his mouth form the word, feels the vibration of it in his throat, but he can’t hear his own voice. It’s dark. Is it supposed to be dark? Yes—it was night. He was with Eddie.

“Eddie,” Buck repeats, fumbling one-handed, fighting against the airbag, the seatbelt, the claustrophobia pressing in on him. He has to get out. He has to get to Eddie. He’s trapped. He can’t move—can’t—his leg—nonono, not again, not again, please—

Something touches him.

Someone.

Hand on his thigh, squeezing, pulling his focus. Eddie. Buck’s right shoulder is throbbing—dislocated, maybe, minimum four weeks off work, light duty for another month—and he wants nothing more than to hold Eddie’s hand, to tangle their fingers together and squeeze (I’m okay, we’re okay, it’s gonna be okay), but the angle is all wrong and he can’t get his left arm across his body to do it.

His neck hurts, too—everything hurts—and that little first responder voice is still in the back of his head—don’t move, wait for the paramedics—but he turns his head anyway, searching for Eddie in the darkness.

There you are, Eddie’s smile seems to say.

Blue and red blur across Buck’s vision, pain streaking through his head, and he has to close his eyes against the rush of nausea it brings.

Eddie’s hand squeezes his leg again. Stay awake, maybe. Or I’ve got you, we’re okay.

Buck never should have closed his eyes. Can’t get them open again. Red-blue-Eddie-pain flash behind his eyelids.

He’s unconscious again before the firefighters pull them out.

****

Buck doesn’t remember most of the truck bombing. He watched the news clip twice after he got home from the hospital, pieced together all the comments people made until they formed some kind of coherent picture, guessed at the rest of it from everything else he’s seen on the job. He knows Eddie held his hand. Knows he was trapped there for almost thirty minutes before they got him out. Knows that it’s probably a good thing that he doesn’t remember all the details. The night is all blurred colours, and fear, and the strangest feeling of being weighed down and floating at the same time.

It felt like that in the hospital afterwards too, the cast on his leg bulky and heavy, a weight more than physical, and the painkillers cushioning his mind from all of it.

“You’re lucky,” a doctor told him, scrawling notes on his chart. “Most people don’t walk away from something like that.”

Buck laughed, short and brittle, halfway to a sob. “I’m not walking, doc. I can’t even stand.”

“Yet.” The doctor had the nerve to smile as he said it. “We’ll get you there.”

Buck was only thinking about getting back to work, then.

Now he wakes up in the hospital and he’s back there for one half-conscious moment, his leg his first thought, panic washing through him, his breath sticking in his chest. A doctor leans over him, mouth moving as they ask him muffled questions, his ears aching, head aching, everything aching.

“Don’t take my leg,” Buck begs, his own voice echoing in his chest.

The lights are bright and the doctor is still talking, maybe to him, maybe to someone else, but it doesn’t matter. Buck can’t hear them anyway.

He slips back under.

Wakes up again minutes or hours later to find someone else beside the bed. Short-cropped brown hair, but the wrong shade. The wrong face attached to it. A question catches in the back of Buck’s throat—Eddie? Is Eddie okay?—and comes out as a groan, pain waking up with the rest of him, his body stiff and sore at the slightest movement.

Bobby’s head snaps up, one hand going for the call button, the other for Buck’s arm. “Hey. Hey, easy, kid, you’re okay, you’re in the hospital.”

Buck blinks and finds his lashes sticking together, tears welling up before he even knows why he feels like crying.

“Eddie is okay too,” Bobby adds, reading it on his face. “He’s better off than you are—mostly superficial cuts and bruises, possible cracked ribs, a fractured wrist, whiplash—they’re just keeping an eye on him until they can run some more tests to be sure.”

It should be a relief, hearing it from Bobby, but Buck knows the vice around his chest isn’t going to ease fully until he can see Eddie for himself. Maybe not even then, honestly, since it’s at least half from the broken ribs he’s nursing.

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says, and it’s hard to tell through the fog of painkillers, but it sounds like he’s trying to reassure himself as much as Buck.

****

The wave comes fast and hard, knocking the breath out of him, sending him tumbling. Buck tries to hold onto his surfboard, but it slips away from him, the cord velcroed to his ankle the only thing tethering them together while the ocean does it’s best to tear them apart.

He gets his head above the surface, gets one gasping breath of air, and then the board pops up and slams into his jaw. He goes under. Comes back up coughing and spluttering, his face throbbing. He doesn’t get a full breath in this time before another waves lifts him up and then bowls over him. It’s easier not to fight it. Easier to hold his breath and let it take him.

A hand around his bicep drags him back up. Drags him into the shallows and then further, onto the damp edge of the beach.

“Jesus, Buckley,” Andy exclaims, halfway to nervous, adrenaline-fueled laughter. “I really thought you were dead for a minute there.”

Buck grins, tired and squinting against the bright San Diego sun, because that’s what he’s supposed to do, right? He’s supposed to laugh and shake this off and get right back out there.

“I wasn’t worried,” he lies, and Andy does laugh this time.

“You’re a crazy sonuvabitch, you know that?” he says. Then he’s twisting, turning to yell at someone behind him, “He’s fine, Lila! The asshole says he wasn’t even worried!”

Lila kisses Buck later, her purple nails biting in at his hips, beer heavy on both their breaths. A fire crackles in the backyard and party music thrums in the walls of the house when she says, “I don’t know what we’d do if we lost you, Evan.”

Buck’s chest feels tight, his stomach bubbly, his jaw bruised and aching, but he holds Lila close and kisses her back, gives her everything she wants, even when being kissed on the cheek and left to zip up his pants afterwards feels just like that surfboard popping up out of the water to smack him in the face. It’s supposed to hurt after all. Being wanted. Being loved. It always hurts. Isn’t that how he knows that it’s real?

****

“You’re like a car crash, Buckley,” Jai tells him. “It’s all fast and fun until we end up wrapped around a tree.”

****

“You need to be more careful,” his mother snaps, as close as she has ever come to sounding like she cares. “You’re going to get someone killed one of these days.”

****

“You’re both gonna be fine,” Bobby says.

Gonna be fine gonna be fine gonna be fine.

****

Buck is awake when Eddie sneaks into the hospital room.

Half-awake.

Morning light is pressing in insistently behind the blinds someone pulled down over the window and there’s an itch right near the IV port in his elbow that he’s trying not to think about. Buck’s eyes are closed, but he listens to the shuffle of feet on the linoleum, the plastic groan of the chair beside the bed and the quiet, familiar sigh as his boyfriend settles into it. All he has wanted since finding himself in the hospital is to see Eddie, but now that Eddie is here, Buck doesn’t think he’s ready to face him.

His elbow itches. Buck tires not to grimace.

Eddie reaches out and takes his hand, warmth curling around Buck’s cold fingers. “I know you’re awake,” he says, thumb moving on the back of Buck’s hand.

Slowly, Buck opens his eyes, painkillers cushioning the ache in his neck as he turns his head on the pillow. He has to blink a few times before the room comes into focus: tired eyes, short-cropped hair, right shade of brown this time.

“Hey,” Eddie smiles. “There you are.”

Eddie looks—okay. A little bruised, a little battered, but okay. Buck takes a shaky breath and feels it fill up his lungs for the first time since that car slammed into them. Hey, he thinks, and then he opens his mouth and what comes out is, “I’m sorry.”

A watery laugh; the kind that means something isn’t really funny but the only options are to laugh or cry. “I shouldn’t be surprised that those are your first words,” Eddie says, and his smile is watery too but it’s also—fond. So fond it hurts to look at. “This wasn’t your fault, Buck.”

Buck knows that. Logically, he knows that. But.

“I’m still sorry.”

Eddie lifts his hand and kisses his knuckles, holding Buck there against his lips as he answers, “I know.”

“You’re okay?” Buck asks—needs to ask—blinking through the tears in his eyes. “Bobby said you broke your wrist.”

Eddie lifts his left arm up to show off the cast. “Clean break, no surgery required. One fractured rib. Whiplash. The rest of it is just cuts and bruises.”

Buck has to bite his lip so he doesn’t apologise again.

“We’re okay, Buck,” Eddie adds, soft and steady, and Buck knew they were, he thought he did, but hearing the words puts a lump in his throat anyway.

“The light was green,” he says, and he’d been sure, so sure, but maybe he was wrong. Maybe he was distracted. He knows he can be a reckless driver, but Eddie was in the car and he was smiling and Buck would never—

“The other driver went straight through the red,” Eddie confirms, soothing his doubts as easily as he caresses Buck’s hand with his thumb. “Bobby said it was a heat attack. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

Buck thinks about that sign in Wisconsin: ICE. He wonders whether they’ve moved it, put the warning somewhere earlier on the road. Wonders whether it would have made any difference, seeing that sign before the tires started skidding.

He wants to ask if the other driver made it, but he’s not sure he actually wants to know.

“‘M still not telling you where we were going,” he says instead, fighting against the droop of his eyes. “Being t-boned doesn’t get you out of the surprise.”

“It wasn’t a steakhouse, was it?” Eddie asks.

A laugh catches Buck by surprise, spasming through his bruised chest, and he breaks off with a groaning, “Ow.”

“Sorry,” Eddie apologises, squeezing his hand. “How’s your pain? Do you need more painkillers?”

“‘S’okay,” Buck answers, shifting and feeling all the ways his body protests. “I’ve had worse.”

Edie shakes his head. That’s not a measure of pain, Evan, Maddie would say. Buck can see it on Eddie’s face too, but he just says, “Okay. Why don’t you get some rest?”

He shifts up, slowly and painfully, leaning forward until he can kiss Buck’s forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. Buck curls his fingers into the fabric of Eddie’s jacket, holding him there to kiss him again. Eddie relaxes into it, kissing back easily, his weight a comfortable heaviness against Buck’s tired body.

“I love you,” he murmurs against Buck’s lips.

Buck smiles. “I love you too.”

“I’ll be here when you wake up, okay?”

It hurts to shake his head, but Buck does it anyway. “No, you should go home—you should see Chris—”

Eddie stops him with another kiss. “Chris told me I have to stay with you. Pepa is looking after him, he’s okay.”

That lump is back in Buck’s throat, harder to breathe around this time. He’s not sure what he did to deserve the Diaz boys. He isn’t sure that he does deserve them, half the time, but here they are anyway. They want him—they love him—and it doesn’t hurt. That’s how Buck knows it’s real.

When he sleeps, he dreams of driving across a frozen lake, Eddie smiling in the passenger seat and Christopher laughing in the back. The sunlight is bright and clear and he thinks there’s a monster chasing them under the ice, threatening to break through and drag them into the murky depths, but it never catches them.

****

Buck’s arm flies out on instinct, pressing Christopher back into the seat while the car jerks to a sudden stop.

“Whoa.” Christopher’s eyes are wide behind his glasses. “That was close.”

Buck’s heart is racing in his chest, his hands shaking with the frissons of adrenaline running through his body. He breathes a shaky laugh, more relief than amusement. “Too close. Don’t tell your dad.”

Chris rolls his eyes. “As if you aren’t going to tell him as soon as we get home.”

The kid has a point, but.

“Maybe I’ve decided to start keeping secrets.”

“About almost being in a car crash?” Chris asks skeptically.

The car in front of them inches forward and Buck lets the gap grow before he eases his own accelerator down.

“Almost is the key word there,” he tells Chris, lighter than he feels. He’s still jittery, hyperaware of every sound, every glint of sunlight on metal that might be a car about to t-bone them or rear-end them or cause an accident in a million other ways. Buck knows car accidents. He knows what it’s like to cause them, to get caught in them, to respond to them. He knows that, statistically, it’s likely Chris will be in some kind of accident at some point in his life. He really, really doesn’t want to be the reason that happens though.

“Don’t worry,” Chris says, attention back on his phone, completely unconcerned, “LA has one of the highest accident rates in the country so it probably wouldn’t even be your fault.”

Buck frowns. “Why do you know that?”

“You and dad were in a car accident last year,” Chris shrugs, like the answer should have been obvious. “I looked it up.”

Eddie isn’t in the car with them, but Buck can hear his voice clear as day in his head: he gets that from you, you know.

“Okay,” he says, “definitely don’t tell your dad you’ve been reading about car crash statistics. You know what he was like with the Zodiac killer stuff.”

Chris grins. “He was so mad at you.”

They’re at a standstill again. Buck takes the opportunity to throw Chris a betrayed look. “I seem to remember him being pretty mad at you too, kid.”

He can feel himself relaxing, heart rate coming down and tension draining out his shoulders. Chris is fine. They’re both fine. Another fifteen minutes and they’ll be home. He flicks on the indicator then checks his blind spot twice before changing lanes as the traffic breaks out of the bottleneck and starts moving again. The blue Toyota they almost ran into turns into another street and disappears.

“So,” an impish smile in his peripheral vision, “if I’m keeping secrets from dad, does that mean we can have ice cream for dinner?”

Buck laughs. “Nice try.”

The engine is a steady rumble, its vibration passing through the wheel and up his arms, settling in his chest. Christopher reaches out and skips to the next song on the driving playlist. Sunlight glints off a stop sign. Somewhere behind them, a car honks.

Buck breathes in. Breathes out.

They make it home in thirteen minutes.

#Evan Buckley #Eddie Diaz #911 Fox #fic #badthingshappenbingo

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theelkmaiden · 1 year

Text

So I've been thinking.

If Captain Marvel is the Champion of Magic, does that mean he has to play by the rules of all magic? Demon, fea, pixie etc.? Because if you owe something to one of those, things tend to go wrong. Fae can take your children, pixies can make your life hell, demons can literally take your souls.

So what if Billy Batson, being the sweet boy he is, keeps doing people favours? Now, he'd never take a child or cause someone chaos, as that means actually interfering, but souls? That boy could definitely be having people sign their souls away to him and he has no idea.

The first time he did someone a favour after the wizard granted him his powers, Billy was overtaken by a surge of tingles that tasted vaguely of rotten eggs. The feeling only lasted a second, but he couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the day. All he did was help Old Linda from the block over carry a bag of food to her place of residence. That was it. But after the tingling, Billy felt like he was connected to her in some way, on a deep and intimate level that didn't make sense.

And then it kept happening.

Helping to paint his neighbours room. Helping a girls cat from a tree. Letting a lost child sleep in his abandoned apartment overnight.

And later, bringing Batman a coffee after a long mission. Teaching Green Arrow the basics of pickpocketing. Spotting Flash on his running form.

Anytime someone said "can I ask you a (quick) favour" the tingling and eggs would come and Captain Marvel had no idea what it was or why it happened.

That is.

Until Old Linda died.

It had been a long patrol for Captain Marvel. There was a crime wave almost every year around July, like clockwork. Mainly teenagers getting in with gangs and trying to prive their worth now that school was out (or, at least, that was Cap's theory).

He was just touching down near his building to transform when he felt an entirely unique sensation. The tingling he was so familiar with came crashing over him in a wave so intense the demigod found himself wobbling where he stood, garnering a few concerned stares by citizens. The part of him that had been connected to Linda had snapped into place and, without even having to doue check, Billy knew for a fact that Old Linda was dead.

He also knew where to find her.

Drawing on his magic, Captain Marvel opened a portal to a corner of the Rock of Eternity ans stepped through.

There, on the otherside, stood the kind old woman who would often give him food if she had any left over.

"Excuse me, sir?" She asked, looking rather fearful, "would you mind telling me where I am?"

With eyes already misting, Marvel closed the portal and stepped towards her with his arms out in a calming manner.

"Linda. I'm so sorry. You're in the Rock of Eternity. You shouldn't be here but I think it's my fault you are," he was swallowed thickly, putting every ounce of self control he had to the test to bit show how distraught he was with this development.

Clearly seeing his distress, Linda calmed and gripped the Captains arm in a consoling manner. "I'm sure it's quiet alright, dear. Why don't you tell me what happened and then you can return me home. And then you can explain to me all about this place, hmm?"

Her small smile fell when the captain did not immediately react to her request.

"Miss Linda," Billy tried, not feeling very much like a superhero at that moment I time, "I'm so so sorry! I shouldn't have helped you with the food. But I just wanted to do something good. And now you're stuck here forever and I don't know how to free you and there's so many people that are going to come here and I didn't mean to!"

The hulking form of Captain Marvel was now a kneeling, sobbing mess as the twelve year old realised what he had done. The feeling of rightness that sang in his magic at Linda standing within the Rock of Eternity. The pull of what he now knew to be souls pulling him in different directions. The fact that he had only been trying to help.

"Now dear," Linda kneeled next to him, patting his shoulder in confused concern, "I assure you I have no idea what you're going on about. I've seen you flying overhead and fighting monsters, but we've never met officially past today. But if I'm stuck here forever, then at least I'll have company. Now, come, dry your eyes and get up. You need to explain to me what's going on." The mum of four in her seemed to have taken over as she dragged the massive man up to his feet and the stood on her toes to wipe his cheeks with the sleeve of her cardigan.

Taking a deep breath, Captain Marvel nodded. "Miss Linda. You are dead. I'm sorry. I accidently own your soul and I don't know how to release you to go somewhere better. And you're only the first person that's going to arrive here. This is completely new for me and I'm not sure what to do. This place is my home so you are welcome to explore and make yourself comfortable. But it's not much."

The silence that followed was deafening as Linda contemplated her situation. It stretched on until a look of resolve made its way onto the old souls face.

"Okay."

"Okay? Is that it?"

"Well you are obviously very distressed so it was definitely an accident. But I am not staying somewhere that looks so dull for the rest of Eternity. You and I are going to be doing some redecorating. How big is this place?"

"Infinite."

"Then this shan't be an issue. We can build a lovely garden where we can all stay until you get this figured out. Besides, it'll give me something to do."

So, he did. Captain Marvel (who Linda learned to be Billy Batson) got to work and transformed a large section of the Cave into a garden, with strict directions from Linda.

Over time, more people joined and Linda took it upon herself to greet the newcomers and explain what had gone on. Many people were unhappy, but soon settled into their afterlife and making friends.

After awhile, Billy took Linda aside and granted her a Boon. One of her choosing. She chose "to be the peacekeeper of this little afterlife. I want to help comfort those here who miss their old lives. I try, I do, but a little magical help wouldn't go amiss." And so she became the Peacekeeper.

In the outside realm, when Captain Marvel explained to Batman, Green Arrow, and The Flash that he accidently owned their souls, well, let's just say that shitshow lasted a while.

#billy batson #shazam #captain marvel dc #batman #green arrow #the flash #of course billy doesnt stop helping people #but he does try to be more careful #except sometimes hes tired #he ends up also owning supermans soul and has an existential crisis over it #and he helped a lot of old people before linda died so the rock of eternity slowly fills up with grandparents trying to adopt him #he does eventually learn how to break the bunding magic but some of them decide to stay #so now the rock has a garden full of souls for the next champion to find #which will be fun for them

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aplthree · 6 months

Text

Ugly Christmas Sweater

“Granger? What in Merlin’s name is this ‘ugly sweater tradition’ that Pansy wrote in her invitation?” Holding the letter that arrived earlier at their home.

They are currently in a Muggle Mall looking for a ugly sweater that Pansy requested to wear at the Christmas Party that will be held at Parkinson-Weasley’s Home.

She chuckle. “It’s a tradition from America where people will wear ugly and garish sweater. Quite popular during the holiday season.”

While walking she suddenly stop and disappear into the crowd. “Hermione?” Draco called.

“Here, love!” He then followes where the voice is coming from.

“Where did you go?” He said while approaching.

She hands Draco a green sweater one that boldy declares, “If drunk, please return to wife.” and gets the red one that says, “I am the wife, thanks!”

He eyes the sweater she offered with a disgust look on his face. “Absolutely not Granger! I refuse to be seen with this … monstrosity!”

Hermione raise her eyebrows. “Come on, Malfoy. It’s supposed to be ugly. It’s just for fun.”

“I’d rather be stumped by a Hippogriff,thank you!”

“Don’t be so dramatic, love. How about we do something ‘fun’ later after the Party? Huh Mr. Malfoy?” She whispers sexily on his ear.

“What kind of fun are you talking about Mrs. Malfoy huh?” Draco raises his eyebrows.

“Anything.”

“Anything?”

“Yes, anything!!”

“Okay.” He agreed on wearing this ‘ugly sweater’ that she likes them to wear on the party later that night. “But only because we will have some fun later.” He teases.

At the Christmas Party, all of them are wearing outrageous jumper, but when Draco enters everyone starts to laugh and started teasing.

"Well, well, well! Look what the cat dragged in—Draco Malfoy, wearing a 'return to wife' sign. Where is the wife, Draco?" Charlie says. He wears a green christmas sweater with garlands and christmas balls in it, looking like a Christmas tree.

“Good Merlin, what on earth are you two wearing? I said ugly sweater.” Pansy enters the living room wearing a jumper with red and white christmas trees all over the pattern.

“It is an ugly sweater Pans.” Hermione replied.

Luna, with her usual whimsical air, approached them with a smile. "Oh, Draco, Hermione, what lovely sweaters! They seem to reflect the spirits of joy and humor this holiday season." She wears a red sweater with body of an elf on the shelf that starts on it’s neck.

Theo snickers. "I never thought I'd see the day when you willingly wore something so... bold. Granger, did you have to twist his arm?"

“Well did Lovegood give you those radish for you to wear this old guy’s suit? What do you call them love?” Draco rebutted on Theo.

“Santa Clause.” Hermione replied.

"Well, well, Draco. Your fashion choices have always been... distinctive," Daphne remarked with a grin. She is wears a sweater with big red bow that wraps around her.

Ginny and Harry exchanged amused glances, unable to stifle their laughter. "Never thought we'd see the day when Draco Malfoy embraced the holiday cheer so enthusiastically," Ginny remarked. They both wearing a sweater with a big sock infront

“Okay stop! I don’t want to talk about it now. I’ll go grab firewhiskey.” He said and goes to the kitchen.

Blaise who wear a literal star costume nudge Hermione. “What on earth did you gave to him that allows you to dress hin that monstrosiy.”

“Oh you know..” she grin at Blaise with mischief.

They all started to laugh and get the party started.

As the night wore off, Theo notices Draco is a bit on the tipsier side. He slung an arm around his shoulders.

“Let’s return you to your wife.” Theo teases and he steers him back to Hermione, who is having a conversation with Ginny and Harry.

“Look who I found wandering around. Where is the wife?” Theo announces with a chuckle.

Theo deposits Draco beside Hermione.

"Seems like you've had quite a bit to drink, Draco," Hermione teased, suppressing a smile.

Draco leaned on her for support, shooting her a lopsided grin. "Blame it on the sweater, Granger. It's cursed, I tell you."

Their friends continued to chuckle at the sight, enjoying the unexpected turn of events at the otherwise conventional Christmas party.

#fanart #art #dramione #dramione fanart #hermione fanart #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanart #draco x hermione #harry potter #hermione x draco #dramione fanfic #hermione jean granger #draco lucius malfoy

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sourwolf-sterek32 · 1 year

Text

Broken Without You

Summary: After witnessing the death of your best friend Henry and his little brother, you're close to giving up and ending it all. Until Joel asks you to join him and Ellie on their journey across the country and gives you a reason to keep fighting.

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: language, blood

Previous Chapter

Chapter 2-

"My plan worked. I delivered." Henry announced once you were back topside and walking down the empty street outside the city.

The moon was shining brightly in the sky above you, lighting up the road without the need of flashlights. You trailed behind them, your eyes scanning the old abandoned houses for any sign of movement, but it seemed to be clear.

"So, we cross the river and then what? Where are you gonna go?" Ellie asked, glancing over at Henry.

"Don't know yet."

"Well, we're going to Wyoming." She answered causing Joels head to snap in her direction with a warning look. "What? It's a huge state. It can fit three more people."

"No offence, kid. I think once we're out of here, we go our separate ways. It'll be better for everyone." You responded, eyeing Joel cautiously.

You still weren't sure what to make of him. Sure, he gave Sam his food last night, but he had been nothing but cold towards you. He clearly didn't want you or Henry around, he hadn't been trying to hide it, so it was better that you just went your separate ways.

"No, he'll change his mind. Trust me. This is how it goes. He's like, 'no, Ellie. Never, ever, ever happening.' And then I'm like, 'I'm gonna ask you a million more times.' And he's like-"

A gunshot suddenly cracked through the still night air. The bullet whizzing straight past your head and hitting the tree behind you with a loud bang.

"Move, move!" Joel's voice shouted.

You were already moving, grabbing Sam and Henry and shoving them down behind one of the broken-down cars beside Joel and Ellie.

"The fuck is that coming from?" Henry questioned in panic.

"Shut up." Joel snapped, glaring at him before he slowly peaked out over the hood of the car, but quickly ducked back down when the person fired again.

"Fuck. Let's move. Let's go." Henry said, grabbing Sam's hand and about to run away.

"No! Stay down." You ordered, grabbing Henry's other arm and yanking them both down just as another bullet flew past them. "Are you fucking crazy? You nearly got killed."

You shook your head at him before you peaked around the side of the car trying to locate the shooter before he fired again, and you saw the flash of the gunshot in the upper story of the house across the road.

"Shooter is in the top window of that house." You informed, glancing over at Joel whose wild panicked eyes met yours. "If you give me that gun I can sneak around the back of the house and take him out."

A surprised look flashed across his eyes, but he quickly schooled his expression and shook his head.

"I'll go. You guys stay here."

"What?" Ellie practically yelped.

"If you don't move, he's not gonna hit you." Joel reassured, his voice softer and gentler than you had ever heard it before he glanced over at you. "I'm gonna do what you said. Make sure they stay behind the car."

You nodded, reaching over and grabbing Sam's hand, making sure the boy didn't try and run anywhere, although it was probably Henry you should be worried about running if earlier was any indication.

"But if you go out there, he's gonna kill you." Ellie exclaimed.

"It's dark, and he has shit aim. Nobody's gonna kill me."

"Then he's gonna kill us."

"Do you trust me?" Joel asked, looking back at Ellie who nodded without hesitation.

For someone who claimed not to be his daughter, she seemed rather attached to him and vice versa. But that was something to think about later when you weren't being shot at.

You watched Joel run off, ducking behind any object he could use for cover as the shooter began to fire at him, but like Joel said, he had shit aim. Not even a minute later, there was a very distinct gunshot, different from the single shot rifle from earlier and you knew that had to be Joel. He did it.

"I think it's clear now." You said, slowly standing up from behind the car, ready to duck back down if need be, but there were no more bullets flying towards you. "He did it."

The others all sighed with relief and stood up too, but before you could start making your way to the house, the sudden roar of car engines filled the air.

You spun around to find bright headlights of vehicles speeding down the road towards you. The large reinforced armoured truck charged through, taking out all the broken-down cars in its path and your stomach dropped. It was them.

"Run. Now, go, go!" You shouted, ushering them all in the opposite direction.

The repetitive single shot blast started up again, Joel now shooting at the cars through the window of the house. Ellie pulled her handgun out, firing off a few rounds behind her in the general direction of the cars as the three of you sprinted for your lives.

One of Joel's shots must have landed because when you glanced over your shoulder, the truck suddenly turned left, crashing into one of the houses on the side of the road. Ellie was lying on the ground though, having tripped over and you quickly rushed over to her.

"Are you okay?" You asked, looking at her up and down for any gunshots or injuries, but she seemed to be okay.

The rest of the resistance cars suddenly pulled up, their bright headlights momentarily blinding you. You shielded your eyes just as they all exited the vehicles with rifles and various weapons in their hands.

Shit, that wasn't good.

"Go. Run." You ordered, pushing Ellie forward.

Suddenly the truck caught alight from where it had crashed in the house and exploded. The force of the explosion sent you flying forward, your body tumbling hard onto the bitumen road and head slamming against it.

Black dots clouded your vision and for a moment, you feared you were going to pass out, but you managed to blink them away to find Ellie leaning over you. She was shouting, her mouth frantically moving, but you couldn't hear anything above the loud ringing in your ears.

The girl grabbed your arm, helping you to your feet. You stumbled a few steps, but managed to keep your footing as the two of you sprinted across the street and took cover behind one of the broken-down cars where Henry and Sam were.

"Holy shit, is she okay?" Henry questioned as you dropped down beside him, your back pressed against the side door of the vehicle.

"I-I don't know, man. She hit her head hard." Ellie breathlessly answered, looking over at you worriedly.

You could feel blood trickling down the side of your face from the cut on your forehead, the blood matting in your hair and staining the collar of your jacket. You closed your eyes for a few seconds, willing the world around you to stop spinning.

Hands suddenly cupped your face, and you opened your eyes to find Henry looking at you panic. You still couldn't hear anything between the ringing and blood rushing in your ears, but Henry must have heard something. His body turned tense to the point of shaking before he started to shout stuff over his shoulder and you realised he was probably shouting at Kathleen.

Henry turned back towards you, the panic in his eyes earlier now only heightened as he looked between the three of you.

"Get ready to take Sam and run." He signed while he spoke, realising that you were having trouble hearing after the explosion.

Take Sam and run? What? What was he going to do?

You watched in confusion as he gave you a small reassuring smile before he suddenly stepped out from behind the car with his hands raised.

He was going to hand himself in. That realisation hit you like a truck, and you jumped to your feet in an instant. Ellie tried to grab your arm to stop you, but you were already out of arms reach as you stumbled out from behind the car and stood beside Henry.

Kathleen stood across the road, her army of resistant soldiers beside her while the truck and house burned brightly from behind her. She grinned when she saw you before she raised her handgun in your direction, but she didn't get a chance to use it.

The truck that was imbedded into the house suddenly began to move. Kathleen turned around and you watched the truck slowly sink into the ground, disappearing completely and your blood turned cold when you realised what was happening.

As if on cue, the ground below you began to rumble, and you had to grab hold of Henrys shoulder to keep yourself up right. Your hearing slowly started to come back and all you could hear were the snarls and growls of infected.

Then, within a blink of an eye, a sea of infected emerged from the sinkhole and charged at all the resistance.

You were paralysed where you stood as you stared at the mass amount of infected tearing apart the soldiers. You had never seen so many in your entire life, and they were everywhere.

Henry suddenly pulled you back behind the car before he grabbed Sam's hand and the group of you sprinted in the opposite direction, trying to get away from the infected and men with guns.

Amongst all the chaos, you lost sight of Ellie. The girl was no longer with the three of you and you frantically looked around.

"Where's Ellie?!" You shouted over the gunfire.

"I don't know. We need to go!" Henry shouted back.

Shit, you couldn't just leave her.

"Go! I'll be right behind you." You responded, waving at Henry and Sam to keep running before you turned and jogged back in the direction you had just came from, ignoring Henry shouting your name.

You picked up a rifle off the ground from one of the many dead bodies while ducking and weaving between the infected, most too distracted attacking Kathleen's people to worry about you. The ones that did notice, you shot before they could reach you.

You hated how familiar the weapon felt in your hands. The standard issue AR-15 which you knew inside out. You ignored the feeling and pressed the butt of the gun into your shoulder as you looked through the red dot sight and shot the infected sprinting towards you.

The past was the past. It was buried, and you planned to keep it that way.

Suddenly, something banged against the window of the car to your left and you turned around with your gun raised, expecting it to be another infected, but then your eyes landed on Ellie.

She was inside the car. Oh, thank God.

"Open the door!"

Her voice was muffled inside the car as she frantically pulled on the door handle, but the car door was stuck. She couldn't open it.

You rushed over and tried the outside handle, but the door wouldn't budge, and that's when you saw the child sized infected in the backseat heading straight for Ellie.

"Move!" You yelled, waving her away from the car window before you put a bullet through it and the glass shattered on impact.

You used the barrel of the gun to clear out the remaining shards of glass before tossing the weapon over your shoulder with the gun strap. Ellie practically threw herself out the window, and you grabbed her, helping her the rest of the way out.

"Thank you. Thank you. Thank you." Ellie panted as you looked back at the car to find the infected already starting to climb out the window too. "Shit, Henry and Sam are in trouble."

Those words had your head snapping away from the infected kid and you followed Ellies line of sight and spotted the two of them huddle together under a car while some infected tried to reach them. Shit

You grabbed Ellie's hand, not wanting to lose her again as you began to run towards Sam and Henry. But you barely got a few metres before an infected appeared in front of you.

A bullet suddenly shot out of nowhere, killing the infected instantly and there was no questioning where that single shot had come from. It was Joel.

You glanced over your shoulder towards the house he was still in to find him sitting in the window with the scoped rifle. You gave him a small two finger salute and he nodded back before you took off running again.

Joel continued to take down the infected around you, clearing a path for the two of you before you reached Sam and Henry. You wasted no time, grabbing one of the infected that was holding Sam's leg and yanked it off the boy before Joel had a clear shot and killed it.

"Come on! Come on!" Ellie shouted, reaching down and helping Henry out from under the car before you all took off running.

You reached the side of the house Joel was in, but didn't get a chance to go inside before a familiar voice shouted at you.

"Stop!"

You turned around with your gun raised, moving in front of Ellie and Sam protectively just as Kathleen stepped forward, her handgun pointed at you.

"Drop the gun. I said, drop the fucking gun!" You yelled, finger resting on the trigger.

"No, I don't think I will. Henry turned my brother in, but I know it was you that killed him. So, now you get to watch Henry and Sam die."

"You make a move on them, you'll be dead before you hit the ground." You warned.

Kathleen grinned, but before she could say anything in response, the very same child clicker from the car earlier appeared out of nowhere and attacked her.

You quickly took a few steps back and watched the child unleash at her, tearing her body apart right in front of you. If you hadn't gotten that car door open, that is what would've happened to Ellie.

"This way now! Move!" Joel's voice suddenly shouted.

He grabbed your shoulder, startling you out of your thoughts before he pulled you away and you quickly followed. The group of you ran off into the darkness away from the total destruction happening behind you.

You didn't stop running until you could no longer hear the growls of the infected in the distance and you managed to find an old motel on the side of the road.

After sweeping one of the rooms and barricading the front door shut, you all collapsed on the floor, completely exhausted. Well, minus Ellie and Sam who were sitting on the bed in the other room busy reading a comic book together.

"I don't think it needs stitches, but this is the best I can do." Henry said, kneeling in front of you as he finished cleaning the cut on your forehead with a wet cloth. "How do you feel?"

"I told you, I'm fine." You sighed, not wanting him to worry about you.

"Mmm, yeah. You really think I believe that?" He asked, standing up with a stretch.

"I don't care what you believe. It's the truth."

"The truth? Really?" He asked, raising his eyebrow at you in disbelief. He tossed the wet rag onto the bench before he lifted himself up onto it and sat down, looking over at you. "That is coming from the girl who crashed her bicycle when we were five and didn't tell anyone until her wrist literally turned black. I had to take you to the ER on the handlebars of my bike."

You rolled your eyes at the memory and leant your head back against the wall behind you and closed them. The light coming in from the kids room was ridiculously brighter than normal.

A few seconds later, something hit your chest and you opened your eyes and looked down to find a piece of beef jerky now in your lap. Frowning in confusion, you looked up to find Joel walking past, chewing his own jerky before he glanced over at you.

"Don't fall asleep yet. You might have a concussion." He said, taking a seat against the wall a few metres away.

You scoffed, "why do you care?"

"I don't." He answered honestly, before he tilted his head back towards you. "But, uh, thank you."

"What?"

"I said, thank you. I saw what you did back there. You saved Ellie in that car. So, thank you."

You stared at him for a few seconds and realised that he actually meant it and you simply nodded, "she's a good kid."

He nodded too, looking over at the girl sitting in the other room with a fond look in his eye, "she is."

The three of you once again sat in silence while you ate. The kid's laughter and soft chatter the only noise before Henry spoke up.

"You think they'll be okay?"

You glanced over at Henry before looking back at the kids who were sitting side by side reading the comic book happily. Yeah, they'll be okay.

"Yeah, I think... it's easier when you're a kid anyway." Joel replied, speaking up for the first time in a while. "You don't have anybody else relying on you. That's the hard part."

"Well, I guess we're doing a good job then."

Joel nodded, looking back at the kids, "what's that comic book say? Endure and survive?"

"Endure and survive." Henry repeated before shaking his head. "That shit's redundant."

"Yeah, it's not great." Joel admitted.

"No." Henry agreed, chuckling softly and you smiled, missing hearing your best friend laugh like that.

"Look, I don't know exactly how I'm gettin' to Wyoming and I'm probably walkin'. But... you know, if you want to..." He trailed off, looking between the two of you and Henry quickly nodded.

"Yeah. Yeah. I think it'd be nice for Sam to have a friend. I'll tell him in the morning. New day, new start."

You watched as Henry stood up and walked into the kids' room, telling Sam it was time for bed before Joel tossed you another piece of jerky which you caught this time.

You nodded your thanks, but didn't say anything and he didn't say anything either as the two of you sat in comfortable silence eating your jerky quietly.

Next Chapter

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