#stack x black plus size reader

[mrsknowitallll]

Nobody Else But You

Elias Moore (Stack) x Black Plus Size Reader

Summary - You’re done with Stack, for good this time… or so you thought.

Warnings - Fighting, cursing, i think that’s it?

A/N - Had to write something for Stack’s fine ass too. May or may not do a part two.

You stormed toward the club, fist clenched at your sides.

“Move cornbread.” You huffed staring up at the larger man.

“You know i can’t do that girl, last time you came up in here stirring up a whole bunch of trouble and we can’t have none of that tonight.” He stood his ground, crossing his arms.

“It’s gone be a whole lot more if you don’t get yo big ass out my way, move!” You shoved past him causing him to stumble.

“Where Stack at?” You questioned narrowing your eyes at Slim.

“He in the back with Smoke.” The older man held his hands up in surrender not wanting any issues with you.

You burst through the door causing Smoke to grip his pistol, easing up when he realizes it’s just you.

“Hey baby what you doing he-“ Stack’s words get caught in his throat as you slap him, his head whipping to the side dramatically.

“That bitch can have you!” You snatched off the necklace with his initials on it he had given you, throwing it in his face.

“What the hell you talking bout? What bitch?” He looked puzzled as he chased after you, following you down the road.

“The bitch that you fucked last week in the joint, right on top of the bar after hours? Yeah she told me all about it, how you told her you loved her, how you told her you was gone leave me and run away with her.” Tears began to spill down your fat cheeks, your lip quivering as you spoke.

“I don’t know what lying ass huzzy done got into yo head, made you believe all that bullshit but i ain’t fuck nobody last week in the joint, i ain’t been fucking nobody else but you!” He raised his voice slightly getting frustrated.

“Don’t lie to me Stack, I can put up with a whole lot but cheating THEN lying bout it? Oh yeah i’m done, like I said that BITCH can have you.” You spat marching down the road.

“Y/N! Y/N! GET YA ASS BACK HERE!” He screamed stomping his foot like a child.

You bit your lip, sobs wracking through your body, this was the last time he’d play with your heart.

You got up early the next morning, despite your heartache life goes on and you had shit to do.

You stopped by Bo Chow’s shop grabbing some supplies that you needed to patch up a hole in your roof.

Usually you’d have Stack do that but you no longer needed him, you’d do just fine on your own.

“On the house.” Bo waved a hand dismissively as you attempted to hand him cash.

“Nu uh Bo, take my money, i don’t want no handout.” You shook your head shoving the cash into his hand.

“You family, take that and get on up outta here girl.” He shoved the cash back into your hand closing it into a tight fist.

“Alright just this once, but next time don’t pull that shit again.” You grinned playfully.

His face broke out into a smile and he shooed you away, handling the next customer.

As you walked down the desolate road back towards your home a car pulled up beside you, a familiar voice calling out to you.

“Get in the car girl.” Stack commanded.

“I ain’t getting in a motherfucking thang, take yo ass on somewhere man.” You snarled.

“Y/n stop playing round and get yo ass in this car!” He growled slamming the door, marching over to you.

“Or what nigga?” You challenged.

You knew he’d never hit you, despite all the bullshit he loved you and he wouldn’t dream of laying a hand on you. You just liked to push his buttons, it was easy when he had such a short fuse.

“Or imma put yo ass in there.” His voice softened, tone teasing as he pulled you against him.

“I’ll slice ya ass with my blade before you even get the chance, try me.” You leaned into his face, eyes daring.

“You’d cut me?” He chuckled biting his lip.

“With no hesitation.” You smiled faintly.

“Get yo ass in this car and let me talk to you.” He sent a harsh slap to your ass causing heat to pool in your gut.

You finally obliged placing your things in the back seat.

“You know i ain’t been with nobody else since i’ve been back right?” He questioned as you passed him the hammer.

“I don’t know what to believe anymore Stack, i mean you’ve done it before.” You looked away from him, tears welling up in your eyes.

He paused looking down at you.

Hurt flashed across his face at your expression, he never ever wanted to make you feel that way again.

He stepped down from the ladder grabbing your forearms and pulling you flush against him.

“I was younger then, stupid as hell, wreck-less, foolish. I’m a man now and i realize that while i was finding temporary bliss in the little gemstones around me I was too blind to see that i had a diamond right in front of me.” He held your face gently, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss.

“And i didn’t fuck no bitch in the joint last week. Whoever told you that shit is a damn lie, they just tryna get me caught up, tryna come between us.” He placed his forehead against yours pecking you on the nose.

“I believe you baby, i’m sorry i let other people get in my head.” You sighed softly, eyes fluttering closed.

“It’s all good oh and one more thing.” He reached into his pocket pulling out the necklace that you threw at him the day before.

He placed it around your neck again, securing the clasp.

“I don’t wanna see it off of you no mo’, gotta let these niggas know who you belong to.” He spoke gruffly.

[melancholymetropolis]

“Stop pretending that you hate me,” Stack said with a smug grin.

“I’m not pretending.”

I let the words fall upon his ears like a cracked glass on the floor. His face dropped. The smile was long gone and a look of pain flashed across it. Stack looked as though I shot him in the chest. A shaky breath fell from his lips as he flicked the cigarette bud from his fingertips. He closed the distance between us in three long strides. My back was pressed against the brick wall of the shop before I could blink. The pain on his face morphed into anger so hot it made his skin burn. 

“You don’t mean that,” he spat, looking me dead in the eye.

 Stack tried to make himself bigger, more intimidating. A lackluster attempt to scare me, but it hadn’t worked. Not only were we a few inches shy of the same height, but I could see right through him. I knew Stack before he was Stack. 

When he was just Elias.

“Y/N,” his voice was a warning. Danger in his tone, but it didn’t phase me. “Tell me you don’t mean that.”

“Get out of my way, Stack,” I said, in a low tone. A desperate attempt to hide the pain in my voice. The stitches of an old wound was beginning to reopen. “I have work to do.”

His eyes poured into me just used to. Filling my head with stupid assumptions that only left me heartbroken in the end. I thought about how he set my dislocated shoulder in place; it must've meant he liked me. How he acted as my left hand for weeks until the pain went away; that must've meant he cared about me. The way he hunted down the man who did it and made him pay… must've meant he loved me. Only me.

But, that wasn't the whole truth.

“So that's why you never replied to my letters,” Stack replied, eyes still searching my face. “Still angry about Mary, huh?”

I dared to stare back at him. My gaze like cold rain to his heated gaze. I refused to slip the mask and embarrass myself in public like she did. He wasn't worth that. Not anymore. Not after seven years. 

I was better than that.

“Not really,” I said with an air of indifference. “I was a little preoccupied to hold a grudge.”

As if summoned, a squeaky little voice cut through the tension. Making Stack freeze on impact. Something he hardly does.

“Mommy?”

My sweet baby girl tilted her little head up at us to assess the situation. Her deep brown eyes searched the potentially dangerous stranger before flicking back over to me, in a caged position. A look of irritation, or disgust briefly graced her face. She narrowed her eyes at Stack and crossed her arms against her chest. Madeline was not afraid of anything. She was always the kind of child to look danger in the eye and laugh.

"Is that ugly man bothering you?" She said, staring directly at Stack. "Should I call daddy?"

An orchestra of emotion appeared on Stack's face. He seem to be both deep in thought and confused at the same time. Like he working out something profound. It took him several seconds before he came to.

"How old are you?" He asked Madeline, jumping right into the conversation.

"I don't talk to strangers," she tilted her in defiance, earning a smile from me.

Good Girl.

Stack, then, turned back to me. A desperate look in his eye; silently asking me the same question. Though he couldn't bring himself to the vocalize it. A look a true fear and hope on his face.

I used his trembling expression to my advantage and slipped from his arms. I took Maddie's hand and steered her away him.

His eyes drilled into my back, but he didn't dare move a muscle. He couldn't. He didn't to make a scene, or worse, alert everyone else of an open secret.

My baby survived, while my cousin's, Annie, didn't.

-----------------------------

a/n: watched sinners and I had to whip something up. let me know if you would like a part two! drop a comment if you would like to be on the taglist, if this becomes a series.

@lov4gor3

[notapradagurl7]

His Woman.

Black Fem! Reader x Elias “Stack” Moore.

Summary: After one night of drunken sex with Stack, he couldn’t let you go. He was possessive in the worst way, and ready to kill any man who tried to talk to you. But that slick mouth of his was surely a sin and had him crawling back to you.

WC: 2,637k.

Warnings: angst, praise, choking kink, cursing, spanking, possessive!Stack, use of the n-word, dirty talk, consensual intimacy, violence, unprotected sex, murder, doesn’t follow the flim’s timeline, AU where Stack doesn’t even meet Mary, protective!Stack.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1 @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @secret89sblog

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereinawrites @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @wanderingrein-blog @kindofaintrovert @marley1773

—————

Your deep brown eyes remained intently fixed on the polished bar top, meticulously wiping down every nook and cranny with a black washcloth. The warm amber-orange glow from the ceiling lights spotlighted the sheen of your melanated skin.

On the small stage, a soulful black band filled the air with a sweet, melodic harmony, while a plus-sized black woman with rich, dark brown skin stood confidently before a gleaming silver microphone. Her hand grasped the slender stand as she swayed gently, her hips moving in time to the rhythm.

Around you, black men and black women gathered at sturdy brown tables, their laughter and spirited conversations blending seamlessly with the music.

Many held beer glasses high, some spilling a mix of hard and light liquor onto the polished brown hardwood floor, causing their shoes to click rhythmically with every animated gesture.

The moonlight poured through large windows, casting a silvery glow on their melanated skin.

Adorning the walls, pictures of joyful black couples and legendary black singers, juxtaposed with a mounted Moosehead.

She sang a sweet song of love, and having a hold on the person she talked about, it was as if she was speaking from your perspective and Stack’s.

“Don’t you know that love I had for you? Ain’t I the one the you chose? I’ve got a hold on you,” Lucinda sang sweetly, the subtle rasp in her voice.

It was as if you tried to wash away the remnants of the lustful night with Stack, you were telling yourself and him that it was a one-time thing.

But Stack couldn’t let you go, hook, line and sinker.

His touch, the way he treated you, and the passion behind his kisses lingered in your mind.

Stacks had a dangerous charm that could lead to his demise, yet he had evaded death repeatedly. He was prepared for violence, making death wary of him and Smoke.

He made it clear to you that his woman, he didn’t want any confusion on your parts but you tried to tell him at least twice since he was a pimp.

His woman, his girl. Beloved one.

“Hey there, sweetheart, can I trouble you for ‘nother drink? I’m out of liquor…need a refill, and who knows, maybe I can take you out after,” the old man called out, his voice a harsh rasp that cut through the hum of conversation.

As a bartender, you learned to navigate the unpredictable ways of the bar, where the cocktail mixing was often paired with the unwelcome advances of patrons.

Catcalls and crude remarks came with the job, like an unwanted haze. Each time, you brushed off the advances with practiced ease, reminding them, and yourself, that you were spoken for—Stack was your anchor in this chaotic sea.

The mere mention of his name usually silenced the rowdy men; his reputation was enough to keep unwanted trouble at bay. You only said his name to keep these men away from you, as far as possible.

Your face twisted up in disgust at his remark, “No, there’s a drinkin’ limit, and I’m taken. I’m Stack’s woman, Go on about your business, now,” you shot back, wiping the glass in circular motions.

“Hey! You ain’t talkin’ to me, girl? I said that I need a damn drink,” The old man yelled in a harsh tone, his voice was raspy, breath reeked of cigar smoke.

The heavy brown lumber door swung open with a creak, revealing Stack as he strode into the bar.

His crimson red tailored suit clung to his form, the confidence radiating from him. The scene shifted abruptly; bartenders paused mid-pour, patrons halted their conversations, and even the band’s melody came to an abrupt stop, replaced by a tense silence that hung in the air.

Gasps of fear rippled through the crowd, but you remained unaffected, just as the old man sitting at the corner table did.

Stack walked in like he owned the place, each step deliberate and echoing authority.

He closed the door behind him with a deliberate, eerie creak that punctuated the stillness.

With a fluid motion, he pinched the thin fabric of his fedora red hat and tipped it toward you, revealing the intensity in his deep brown eyes.

They locked onto yours with an electrifying gaze that sent a jolt through you, compelling you to look away.

But the moment was short-lived, as his focus shifted to a foolish man trying to push his way too close, igniting a flicker of irritation in Stack’s face.

Stack dashed to the bar table swiftly, his face etched possessiveness and fury. He couldn't permit any man to touch you or speak to you; just the idea of it made him seethe with rage.

Before he could touch you, his hand was yanked and twisted behind his back. A bone cracking noise fills the bar. A gut-wrenching scream left the old man's lips, and hissing in pain.

A gold grill glistened in his evil grin, “You deaf, nigga? She’s my woman,” Stack barked at him.

The old man’s eyes wide in fear, body quaking from Stack’s southern twang, and rasp in his deep voice, everyone in Mississippi feared the twin brothers and when their names were heard, they could have sworn that demons escaped from the depths of Hell.

“S-Stack?! I’m sor—“ The old man tried to apologize but Stack cuts him off immediately.

It always seemed like eveytime you were trying to move forward, Stack was pulling you back. The vicissitudes of life were always there to strike without warning, you need to get away from him.

“Now you sorry? When a man steps up but don’t a nigga ever listen to a woman? Bitch ass nigga, Back the fuck off my woman, who the hell you think you talkin’ to?” Stack yelled back, smacking the back of his head.

Stack’s hand yanked the man by the back of his collared tee shirt, pulling him back and threw on him on the brown hardwood floor with a loud thud, he grunted in a pain.

“No! Please! I ain’t mean no harm!” The old man pleaded in softened voice, holding his hands up in defense.

Stack snatched his pistol from his back pocket of his pants, switching his gun off safety as his evil grin curled upon his face. “Now you wanna beg for your lil life? When mess with her, you do!” He darkly chuckled, shaking his head in disapproval.

“Stack! You’re causin’ trouble, take that shit outside!” You called out to him, pointing to the door.

Just as you told him, he carried the old man outside to the vast forest with the other two men walking beside him, you sighed in disapproval.

You briefly spoke to your boss, as she gave you a glare, and you ran outside to see Stack aiming a gun at the old man, your breath caught in your throat.

“Tell the devil I said leave me and mines the fuck away, Satan don’t want no problems with me or my brother,” Stack declared with authority, aiming his gun toward the man.

Stack’s finger squeezed trigger twice, the gunshot echoed in the night sky as the bullets pierced his heart and skull, and blood splattered out as the men picked up the body, and cleaned up the mess. As they walked away, you approached him.

Stack turned to you with that sinful smirk of his, while you gave him an unfazed glare.

“Elias, I’m glad that his weird ass is dead, but I told you that it was one night?” you replied back, your tone calm.

Now it was his turn to remain unfazed by what you said, even though you called him by his real name which meant that you were serious. He stepped closer to you, towering over you.

“So you ain't feelin' the same way? You tellin’ me that you found ‘nother nigga that can beat up that pussy like I do? Take care of you like I do?”

Your cheeks flushed from his smooth words, and your clit pulsed in response. You tried to speak, but nothing emerged from your lips; instead, images from that night overwhelmed your thoughts, quickening your breath.

He simply took your arms and drew you in, bringing your bodies together so closely that you could sense each other's heartbeats.

“Y-you’re a pimp and I'm not one of your hoes, I'm a workin’ woman, and I don't people thinkin’ any kind of way, Elias,” You said, looking away from him.

Stacks shook his head disagreeing, dipping his head to meet your gaze and brought your face to his, “You’re mine, and I'm yours, fuck what folks say or think. You feel that? Our hearts are in sync, baby,” he whispers to you.

Your breath shudders from his voice, as your hands grip the fabric of his tailored red suit. “You fell in love with me that fast?” you asked him, looking up at him.

“It’s been damn near two weeks since that night, I don't plan on givin’ you some dick and dippin’ Y/N. I'm all in,” He replied back, sincerity in his voice.

You couldn't believe that you were falling for this man, you told yourself you wouldn't be like this. But Stack was in the same boat as you, sailing along the same ocean. You weren't alone at all.

“That slick mouth of yours is gonna get you into some trouble, sweetie. Don't you think?” You flirted playfully, smirking at him.

“If it’s you then I don't mind it, you're worth that trouble. Do you want to make up and go back to my place or yours?” he asked, smirking back.

“How about my place as always?” You spoke up, biting your lip.

Those words from you made him smile, crashing his lips into yours, you responded by kissing him back, lips latching onto his. Tongues battling for dominance, as you moaned softly. “Mmm..”

After that, he was back nestled in your cozy creaking bed. Clothes littered across the floor, the sound of lips colliding and skin-to-skin slapping filling the room, your loud moans in between.

Your back leaned back on the soft bedsheets with Stack’s hips thrusting into your pussy forcefully, as he hovered over you. “You always take dick this good?” he mewled, peppering kisses, his hands gripped your hips tight, drawing out uncontrollable moans from you. You were too busy drooling on the pillow to even remember what you were angry about, your mind was blank. “Fuckk..Elias!”

He clenched his lip, attempting to keep the sounds at bay. Flipping you onto your side, he pushed his dick in further and slapped your ass. "Don't wanna talk no shit? I told you that I'm yours…” he groaned, his eyelids closed tightly once your wet walls gripped around him. You couldn't respond back.

Elias had to be the one to remind you with every relentless stroke, his dick was coated in your cum ever so completely, and he wanted to get every drop. “Damn, tell me what you want,” he grunted, his hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a kiss.

His pace quickened, and you felt the delicious friction build as he hit all the right spots. “More, please… harder,” you pleaded, your body craving more of him, more of this connection.

With a grin, he obliged as his hips snapping against yours, sending you spiraling deeper into bliss. “You’re beautiful, too good for me,” he murmured, admiration and desire lacing his words.

He was right, you were too good for him. You didn't pay much attention to his words, but you could do was moan his name. As he thrusts into you, he gripped your asscheeks to keep you still and for his dick to keep hitting that spot, your mind was hazy, tears falling from your eyes, “Elias…c-can’t take it..” you mumbled off.

The bed creaked underneath both of you with the your nails digging into his back as you felt your climax approach quickly. “I know, baby,” he reassured, his breath warm against your ear as he continued to drive into you, relentless and passionate. Something felt so right with him, why could you try to let him go?

Knots tightening in the pit of your stomach on cue, eyes rolling back. You felt him push even deeper to hit that sweet spot that made you twitch, you loved it. “Cumming!”

You came undone on his dicm without warning, your body shaking underneath him as your back arched, he followed suit by pulling out of you, releasing his thick jets of cum onto the bed sheets. “Fuck,” he groaned raspily, holding your hand gently.

After that, you slowly rose from the bed, the gentle warmth of the covers replaced by the cool air of the room.

Stack, ever attentive, offered his hand to help you up, his touch reassuring as you found your footing.

You made your way into the bathroom, where he guided you beneath the cascading water of the shower, helping you to wash away the remnants of sleep and your night together.

Once you were refreshed, you slipped into your soft purple nightgown, its fabric delicate against your skin. A yawn escaped you, You leaned in and pressed a gentle kiss against Stack's cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin as you bid him farewell.

As he prepared for the night ahead, Stack stood before the mirror, carefully adjusting his tailored suit. He caught your gaze through the reflection, his eyes sparkling with love.

"Would you like to go out with me tomorrow night?" he asked, his voice steady as he met your eyes in the mirror.

You raised an eyebrow, a flicker of skepticism in your tone as you responded, "Like a date?"

Stacks chuckled lightly, nodding his head. "It is a date, and I want everyone to know that I belong to you, and we’re a couple,”

A warm smile spread across your face as those familiar words floated through the air, your lips gently biting in anticipation. “So, it’s a date then! But where are we headed?”

With a playful glint in his eyes, he replied, “It’s a special surprise. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

“Agreed! I can't wait,” you responded, your heart racing with excitement.

He leaned in closer, his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss. As he pulled back, he tipped his hat with a charming flourish, a playful grin crossing his face.

Stepping out of your house, you watched him glide to his car, adding a playful wink as he hopped inside and revved the engine.

A pang of longing swept over both of you as he drove away, leaving you both with a sweet ache of seeing each other for the evening to come.

—————

[lionizingheathen]

Masterlist By Character - Updated 8.21.24

I DO TAKE REQUESTS

Draco Malfoy

Miscommunication

Edging Sub!Draco after you catch him flirting with someone else in public

Precious

Draco finding release after a day in the office

Request

"Domdraco smut please??? I mean maybe with handcuffs and some kinks?"

Ginny Weasley

Take It Out On Me

Helping Ginny unwind from a stressful quidditch practice

Ron Weasley

Take it

"Are you sure you can handle it, baby?" Ron visiting his long distance girlfriend

Request

Hey, can you do an scenario with you and Ron Weasley under a blanket around your friends watching a movie and Ron decides to finger you quietly without anyone knowing?

Sirius Black

Quickly Now

Sirius hooking up with his best friend

Prove It

Sirius eating out his FWB

Just for You

Giving Sirius a handjob in front of friend

Request

"I really need jealous fwb Sirius after that last fic, I NEED it"

Request

"hey im new to your blog but I LOVE the way you write sirius, could we have more sirius content pLEAES (soft, dark, fluff, smut, ANYTHING you can give us pleaseee🥺🥺🥺)"

Request

"Anything with FWB!Sirius Black PLEASE!"

Request

"This is my first time making a request but can you do more of fwb Sirius x reader pleaseee I love your writing btw!! Thank youu"

Hermione Granger

Quietly

Fucking Hermione in the stacks of the library

Lily Evans

Roses

Eating Lily Evans out

Relax

Strapwarming Lily Evans

James Potter

Everything

Making boyfriend James Potter be rough with you for the first time

Think About It

Giving James a blowjob

Request

"james potter smut!! i love ur writing sm"

Request

"Please I need to see you writing something with dbf!James Potter (I would be so happy if you add some size kink too)"

Request

jealous fwb sirius but what about jealous fwb james???

Request

"love ur writing!! can I request riding james potter plssss"

Remus Lupin

We Always Have Time

Remus taking you against a wall

Agreement

Giving your flatmate, Remus Lupin a blowjob to help him relax

Request

"can you do a part 2 from Flatmate!Remus Lupin? Thank you <3"

Request

"Angsty request. Post! James and Lily’s death, reader/oc was Sirius’s girlfriend/fiancé but feels lost after his arrest. All she has left is Remus and they… uh… work off post-war stress with each other."

Regulus Black

Request

"you are the best smut writer i’ve ever come across im literally speechless. can you write more about sirius fwb or maybe even regulus i will take anything you write omg."

Pansy Parkinson

You've Earned it

Sub!Pansy Parkinson x DomFem!Reader

Harry James Potter

Request

"if you write for harry potter can you do harry potter smut? i love your fics :)"

Request

"umm face riding with harry?? pleaseee"

Luna Lovegood

Love me

First time sleeping with Luna Lovegood

Group

Request

"OK NOW I CANT STOP THINKING OF REMUS ACTUALLY LETTING SIRIUS (plus james maybe) HAVE A GO WHILE WATCHING HHHNGGGF??!??"

[scarluna]

Y/N, a gifted but self-conscious graphic designer, lands a job at Jeon Enterprises, a powerhouse ruled by the sharp and controlling Jeon Jungkook, whose ruthless perfectionism hides behind an enigmatic façade. Though admired and feared, Jungkook targets Y/N’s insecurities, using them as weapons against her.

Beside him stands his best friend, Min Yoongi, a sly and unpredictable force whose hot-and-cold behavior leaves Y/N questioning his motives.

Tangled in a web of cold authority, teasing games, and unspoken desire, Y/N must navigate a dangerous love triangle where ambition and emotion collide, threatening to unravel everything.

Pairing: Jungkook x Fem!Reader x Min Yoongi

Genre/Tags: plus sized reader, enemies to lovers, ceo!jungkook, graphic designer!reader, mafia!yoongi

Link to the other chapters: ACT II / ACT III / ACT IV / ACT V / ACT VI / ACT VII / ACT VIII

Chapters: 1 / ?

Chapter Warnings: mature language, bullying, slow burn, enemies to lovers

ACT I.

I adjusted my blazer for what felt like the millionth time, catching my reflection in the mirrored elevator doors. It wasn’t like me to fuss over what I was wearing, but this wasn’t just another job. It was Jeon Enterprises, one of the most prestigious companies in the world, and I was walking straight into the lion’s den.

The blazer was professional, fitted just right. At least, I hoped it was. The material hugged my body in ways that made me overly aware of every curve, but I had told myself over and over this morning: You’re here because you’re good at what you do, not because of how you look.

The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. I stepped onto the executive floor and immediately felt small. Everything screamed luxury. The floors gleamed, the walls were adorned with minimalist art, and the light streaming in through floor-to-ceiling windows made the space feel impossibly big.

“Greetings,” the receptionist greeted me with a perfect smile. Her sleek ponytail and impeccable outfit made me feel like I’d rolled out of bed. “Mr. Jeon is expecting you. His office is straight ahead and to the left.”

“Thank you,” I managed to mutter under my braeth, clutching my portfolio like it was a shield. 

Every step down the hallway felt heavier than the last. I’d heard the rumors about Jeon Jungkook. Everyone had. The man was a genius, sure, but he was also ruthless, arrogant, and an unapologetic womanizer. He had the kind of power and charm that let him get away with it, too.

I knocked on the massive wooden door at the end of the hallway, my heart pounding like a drum.

“Come in,” came a deep voice from the other side.

I pushed the door open and stepped into a room that felt like the command center of an empire. Jungkook sat behind a sleek glass desk, flipping through a stack of papers. For a second, he didn’t even look up. 

When he did, I nearly forgot how to breathe. Okay, Y/N, you got this. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

Jungkook looked like trouble in the most devastating way. His jet-black hair was perfectly tousled, his sharp jawline seemed carved from stone, and his dark eyes locked onto mine like they could see right through me. The tattoos peeking out from the collar of his white button-up shirt only added to the effect.

“You’re late,” he said, leaning back in his chair. It was as if he was seeing right through me with his eyes. I felt uneasy.

I blinked. “I… I was told the meeting was at nine.”

“It’s 9:01.” His lips curved into a lazy smirk. “I don’t like people who waste my time.”

I swallowed the sharp reply rising in my throat. Instead, I forced a polite smile. “I’ll be sure to set my watch ahead next time, Mr. Jeon.”

His smirk deepened, and he gestured to the chair across from him. “Have a seat. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

I sat down, carefully placing my portfolio on the desk. The tension in the room was suffocating, but I opened the folder and spread out the designs I’d spent days perfecting. “These are the concepts I’ve prepared based on the rebranding brief.”

Jungkook didn’t even glance at the papers right away. Instead, he leaned forward slightly, his eyes sweeping over me like I was part of the presentation.

“You don’t look like the typical designer we hire,” he said, his tone casual but cutting. His eyes roamed over my blazer, and then focused back to my eyes. I wanted to hide so bad.

My jaw tightened, but I kept my voice steady. “And you don’t look like the typical CEO.”

For a second, something flickered in his eyes—surprise, maybe—but then he laughed. A low, quiet sound that sent a shiver down my spine.

“Touché,” he said, finally picking up one of the designs.

The silence stretched as he studied my work. My heart was beating so loudly, I was sure he could hear it. This job wasn’t just a step up for me—it was a chance to prove that I belonged here, even if every glance from him made me feel like I didn’t.

“This one’s decent,” he said at last, holding up one of the logos. “But it’s missing… something.”

“What kind of something?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his gaze.

“Danger. Boldness. It needs to make people stop and stare.” He set the paper down and leaned back again, his smirk returning. “Think you can deliver that?”

I straightened my shoulders, even as my palms felt sweaty. “I can deliver exactly what you need.”

His smirk widened, but there was something darker behind it now, something that made me feel like he enjoyed the challenge. “We’ll see, Y/N. Welcome to Jeon Enterprises. Try not to disappoint me.”

As I left his office, my hands were still trembling. Jungkook Jeon was everything the rumors said and more—arrogant, sharp, and utterly infuriating. I was here for a week already and this was my first time meeting him. I noticed he didn't introduce himself, and it was probably because he knew the influence he had on others and he was aware that people knew him.  Here I was, being delusional that this company was treating their employes with care. How much I was lied to at that damn job interview? I had to get this through. It was my dream job.

Jungkook himself had an intimidating aura. But he wasn’t going to intimidate me. Not yet, anyway.

My first day at Jeon Enterprises started like any other, with a carefully curated outfit and a bundle of nerves. But by noon, I’d already realized that fitting in here would be like trying to squeeze into a size too small—it wasn’t going to happen smoothly.

It began with Tina.

Tina was my direct manager, the person who would oversee my work and, apparently, my every move. I hadn’t been in the bullpen of the design department for five minutes before she sauntered over, heels clicking against the polished floor like a countdown to doom.

“Y/N, right?” she said, her voice oozing faux warmth as her sharp blue eyes scanned me from head to toe.

“Yes, that’s me.” I smiled, trying to come across as approachable.

Tina didn’t return the gesture. Instead, she crossed her arms, her fitted designer dress emphasizing a figure that belonged on a billboard. Her blonde hair was swept into an effortless bun, and her makeup looked flawless, like she’d just stepped out of a high-end commercial.

“Cute,” she said, her lips curling into a smirk. “Well, welcome to the team. I’ll be honest with you—Jeon Enterprises isn’t for everyone. Things move fast here, and we don’t have time to coddle anyone.”

I nodded. “I’m ready to work hard.”

She raised a perfectly sculpted brow. “Good. Because I won’t tolerate sloppy work or excuses. If you can’t keep up, you won’t last long.”

Her words stung, but I forced myself to stay calm. “Understood.”

“Great,” she said, clapping her hands together. “I’ll let you get settled. Just make sure you don’t need too much hand-holding. Mr. Jeon has a thing for perfection, and I’d hate for your mistakes to reflect on me.”

Before I could reply, Tina turned on her heel and strode away, her confidence practically leaving a trail behind her.

A few hours later, I realized that Tina wasn’t just sharp with me—she was sharp with everyone. But when it came to Jungkook, her demeanor shifted.

The first time I saw them interact was during a brief meeting in the design area. Jungkook had stopped by unexpectedly, his presence sucking the air out of the room. Conversations died, heads turned, and people suddenly looked very busy with their screens.

Tina, however, wasn’t fazed.

“Mr. Jeon,” she said, her tone smooth as silk. She pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, a move that felt almost rehearsed. “What a surprise. Did you come to check on our progress?”

Jungkook barely glanced at her. “Just passing through,” he said, his voice cool and detached.

But Tina wasn’t deterred. She stepped closer, her smile turning brighter. “If you have a moment, I could go over some of the new concepts we’ve been working on. I’d love your input.”

I watched from my desk as Jungkook’s gaze flicked to her, then to the designs she held out like an offering.

“No need,” he said, his tone as dismissive as it was polite. “That’s what I hired you for.”

Tina’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second, but she recovered quickly. “Of course. I just want to make sure everything aligns with your vision.”

Jungkook didn’t respond. Instead, his eyes scanned the room, landing on me. For a moment, his expression was unreadable, but I swore there was a flicker of amusement. Then he turned back to Tina.

“Carry on,” he said, already walking away.

Tina’s smile vanished the second he was out of earshot. She tossed the papers onto her desk with a huff, muttering something under her breath that I couldn’t catch.

She caught me watching and raised an eyebrow. “Something on your mind, newbie?”

“No, just…” I hesitated, unsure how to phrase it. “It seems like Mr. Jeon has high expectations.”

Tina snorted, crossing her arms. “High expectations? Please. He’s impossible to please unless it’s on his terms. But don’t get too comfortable, Y/N. He has a way of making even the most confident people feel inadequate.”

Her words felt like a warning, but I couldn’t help but notice the frustration laced with something else—something personal.

She wanted him. That much was obvious. And judging by the way Jungkook hadn’t given her more than a passing glance, it was equally obvious that he didn’t want her.

It wasn’t comforting, exactly, but it did make me wonder: What did Jungkook Jeon want?

I had a feeling I’d find out soon enough.

I left the executive's floor in haze, my head spinning from everything he’d said—and everything he hadn’t said. The moment I stepped out of the elevator and into the main lobby, the weight of the building seemed to come crashing down on me. I had just had my first meeting with him, the infamous Jeon Jungkook.

I couldn’t decide if I should be excited or terrified. Maybe both? I certainly wasn’t expecting him to be so… blunt. But that was Jungkook—no pleasantries, just cold, sharp efficiency wrapped in a dangerously attractive package. He hadn’t even tried to sugarcoat it when he said, ��Try not to disappoint me.”

I shook my head, trying to shake off the sting of his words.

I could already feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on me, the quiet murmur of the office that seemed louder as I made my way through the hallways. I just needed to breathe.

Lunch. I should grab lunch.

But even as the idea of food settled in my mind, the thought of stepping into the cafeteria was daunting. The last thing I wanted was to deal with the cafeteria crowd, with their subtle stares, quiet judgments, and the inevitable whispers.

I paused for a moment outside the cafeteria door, my nerves tightening in my chest. What if people noticed? What if I was the topic of the next office gossip? I wasn’t ready for that.

Sighing, I turned to leave. That’s when I spotted two people standing near the entrance of the cafeteria, chatting quietly.

“Y/N?”

I froze. It was Hoseok, the Marketing Manager Rya, the Social Media Specialist in my Team. They both looked up at me, smiling warmly. I was being trained by Tina during the past week and I hadn't had the chance to meet anyone on my Team, everyone was busy with their job and I was busy not to cry at how dismissive I was being treated by Tina.

“Hey!” Hoseok called out, his voice friendly and easy-going. “Are you coming in? We’ve got a couple of spots open.”

I hesitated. They didn’t look like the typical crowd who’d pay attention to me. But still, my nerves gripped me. I wasn’t ready to be the center of attention.

Rya noticed my unease, her eyes softening as she flashed me an understanding look. “It’s okay. You’re not the only one who gets the cafeteria jitters.”

I let out a soft laugh, though it sounded awkward. “I… I was thinking about just grabbing something quick and heading back to my desk.”

“You’re not getting away that easily,” Hoseok teased, motioning for me to come over. “Trust me, the food here isn’t so bad. And we’re cool. You’ll be fine.”

Something about Hoseok’s warm smile and Rya’s welcoming attitude made the anxiety that had been eating at me for the past few days ease just a little. “Alright, fine. I’ll join you.”

I made my way over to their table, trying not to look at anyone else. The last thing I wanted was to feel like I was on display.

As I sat down, I noticed they were both already halfway through their meals, and the conversation seemed casual, almost like we had known each other for ages. Hoseok leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he gave me a sympathetic look.

“You’re probably wondering what it’s like working here, right?”

I blinked. “A little. I’m still figuring things out.”

“Well, don’t let it get to you,” Hoseok said with a grin. “You’re probably gonna hear a lot of rumors around here, especially about our wonderful boss.”

I froze. My stomach did a flip.

“You’ve probably heard some stories about him, huh?” Rya asked, her voice lighter than I expected.

I nodded slowly. “Yeah. A few.” I have heard whispers amongst the other employes at how he had slept with someone from their department and whatnot. How good he was in bed, bla bla bla. It was the usual gossip I tried not to pay attention to.

Rya exchanged a knowing glance with Hoseok before turning her attention back to me. “Well, we’ve worked here long enough to know the truth behind the gossip.”

Hoseok raised an eyebrow, giving Rya an amused look. “Don’t go spreading too many secrets now, Rya.”

Rya grinned. “Oh, I’m just telling her the truth.”

I couldn’t help but lean in, intrigued. “What’s the truth?”

Rya grinned, leaning in slightly as if sharing a secret. “Well, first of all, Jungkook isn’t as terrifying as people make him out to be.”

“Really?” I said, surprised. “He seemed pretty… intense in our meeting.”

Rya laughed. “He’s definitely intense, that’s for sure. But he’s also complicated. It’s not like he’s always angry or anything. He’s just… cold. Detached. He doesn’t let people get too close.”

“He’s got a reputation for being a heartbreaker,” Hoseok added with a slight roll of his eyes. “And he definitely doesn’t tolerate mistakes. But don’t take it personally. He’s just obsessed with control. It doesn't matter if it's a job related or a person related.”

I let out a slow breath, still processing. “So, all the rumors about him being a womanizer… are those true?”

Hoseok shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips. “He’s not exactly the type to settle down. But that doesn’t mean he’s out there dating every woman who walks through the door. He’s selective, you could say.”

Rya’s lips twitched, her eyes gleaming mischievously. “Selective is an understatement. He doesn’t seem interested in anyone but himself. Though, a certain someone might argue differently…”

I furrowed my brow, not entirely following her meaning. Hoseok picked up on it immediately and chuckled. “Rya’s just a little bitter. She’s been crushing on him for years.”

Rya’s face flushed slightly, but she didn’t back down. “I wouldn’t say crushing. Just admiring from a distance. He’s got this way about him that’s hard to ignore. But trust me, you won’t get anywhere with him. He’s not the type to let anyone in.”

I wasn’t sure if that made me feel better or worse. The idea of Jungkook being so emotionally unavailable seemed like a blessing and a curse at the same time.

“But hey, if you can get past his walls,” Hoseok said with a teasing grin, “you might find that he’s not as bad as people think. Just don’t go expecting him to hand out compliments like candy. He’s got a… very unique way of showing he’s impressed.”

“Yeah, by barely acknowledging you, if you’re lucky,” Rya added, her tone dry.

I couldn’t help but laugh at that. The tension that had been gripping me finally loosened.

“Thanks, guys,” I said, feeling a bit lighter. “This helps a lot. I didn’t expect such an… honest view of him.”

Hoseok gave me a wink. “We’re here for the truth, Y/N. Don’t worry too much about him. Just do your thing and keep your head down. You’ll be fine.”

Rya smiled warmly. “Exactly. And remember, we’re here if you need anything.”

I smiled back, the warmth of their kindness making my nerves a little easier to handle. Maybe, just maybe, I could survive this place after all.

-

It had two weeks since I’d joined the team, but it felt like I’d been here forever. Between the pressure of trying to meet everyone’s expectations and dealing with my own insecurities, the past few days had been a blur. But today? Today felt different.

I was sitting at my desk, trying to finalize a design for a new client, when I got an email: Urgent meeting, 2 PM. I glanced at the clock— it was nearly time. The butterflies in my stomach immediately turned into a storm of dread.

I didn’t know what the meeting was about, but something told me it wasn’t going to be good.

By the time I walked into the conference room, my heart was pounding. The entire team was gathered— Tina, Hoseok, Rya, and even some of the higher-ups were sitting around the long conference table. At the head of the table was Jungkook, looking every bit the part of the cold, calculated CEO he was. He barely even looked up as I entered, though the slight tension in the air made it clear something was wrong.

“Y/N, sit,” Tina said, her tone cool as she gestured toward an empty chair. I sat down quickly, avoiding eye contact with anyone.

“Alright,” Jungkook finally spoke, his voice sharp and commanding. He stood up, moving around the table like he was preparing to give a speech. But his gaze locked on me as he began.

“The client is not happy with the design.” His words felt like a slap to the face. “And do you want to know why?” He didn’t wait for a response, his eyes boring into me. “Because, Y/N, you thought it would be cute to add your little personal touch.” I saw him take the folder I had given to Tina to give to Jungkook. He slammed it on the table which made me flinch.

I felt my face flush as the room fell silent. I knew exactly what he was talking about—the last-minute design changes that had been added against my protests. I had tried to convince Tina not to add them, but she insisted. The change had been pushed through her decision, not mine.

But here I was, in front of everyone, being blamed for something I had no control over.

I opened my mouth to speak, to explain that the changes were not my idea, but Jungkook didn’t give me a chance.

“Look at this,” he continued, “It’s amateur work, Y/N. It’s embarrassing. This,” he said, pointing at the screen, “is what you think a professional design looks like?” His eyes narrowed. “It’s no wonder the client doesn’t want to move forward with us.”

I felt my chest tighten, every word hitting me like a ton of bricks. The weight of his insults pressed down on me, but I stayed quiet. I couldn’t speak.

Then, his voice grew colder, mocking. “And what’s this?” He pointed at the screen again. “You decided to add this ridiculous pattern—what, you thought it would make it look more ‘fun’?”

I wanted to sink into the chair and disappear. The whole room was watching me, waiting for me to respond. But how could I? What could I possibly say when Jungkook was tearing my work—and me—down in front of everyone?

“And don’t get me started on the layout,” he continued, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “It’s all over the place. I mean, do you even have a vision of beauty?” he paused for a moment, "Because It's obvious you have absolutely no idea how beauty feels like. I mean, look at you. . . " he trailed off.

The words hit like a physical blow. I froze. The way he said it, so casually, made it feel like it was the least important thing to him. But to me? It felt like the world had just fallen apart.

“Maybe if you spent less time making things look good and more time doing your job, we wouldn’t be in this position,” he mocked, his eyes cutting into me. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I could feel my heart racing, my breath shallow. The sting of his words—those last few—made my entire body feel cold. My hands clenched into fists at my sides, but I didn’t say anything. I couldn’t.

I just sat there, the weight of his words crashing down on me, feeling more exposed than I ever had in my life.

Jungkook turned away, finally seeming to lose interest in me, as he went on to talk about other aspects of the project. But I was no longer listening. The room felt like it was closing in on me.

I couldn’t look at anyone. I didn’t even want to be here anymore. But all I could do was sit in silence, my eyes trained on the table, willing myself not to cry.

-

The meeting dragged on for what felt like hours, but when it finally ended, I barely heard the chatter around me. I just stood up quietly and walked out, my hands trembling at my sides.

I didn’t know where I was going, but somehow, my feet carried me to the nearest bathroom. I locked myself inside one of the stalls, pressing my back against the door as the tears I had been holding back finally broke free.

I slid down the wall, hugging my knees to my chest, the words from the meeting echoing in my head. “You really think you deserve to be here?”

I didn’t know how long I sat there, crying silently, but I couldn’t stop. Every insult, every mocking tone he’d used to tear me down, was running through my mind on repeat.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, I heard a soft knock at the door.

“Y/N? You in there?”

It was Rya’s voice.

I wiped my eyes quickly, trying to get myself together, but it was no use. I couldn’t hide the sobs that kept coming.

“Y/N, let me in,” Rya said, her voice soft but insistent. “It’s okay. Open up.”

I stood up and unlocked the door, only to find Rya standing there, her eyes full of understanding. Without a word, she stepped inside, closing the door behind her, and wrapped her arms around me.

“Hey,” she said quietly. “It’s okay. He’s an asshole. Don’t let him get to you.”

I buried my face in her shoulder, the tears flowing freely now. I didn’t care anymore. I just needed someone to tell me it wasn’t my fault.

“I… I didn’t even want to add those changes,” I whispered between sobs. “It wasn’t my idea. Tina—Tina pushed it. But he—he…” I couldn’t finish. I couldn’t bring myself to repeat what he’d said about my weight, about me.

Rya held me tighter. “I know. I know. And it’s not your fault. Tina did that on purpose, and Jungkook? He doesn’t have a clue what he’s talking about. He’s got his own issues.”

I sniffled and pulled back slightly, wiping my eyes. “But… the way he talked about me—”

“Forget him,” Rya interrupted gently. “He’s an idiot. A rich, spoiled idiot who doesn’t know how to treat people. You’re a damn good designer, Y/N. Don’t let him make you doubt that.”

I nodded, though it didn’t feel like it was enough. My mind was still reeling, but Rya’s words were a small comfort.

“I don’t know if I can go back in there,” I confessed. “I don’t think I can face him again.”

Rya gave me a small smile. “You don’t have to. But when you’re ready, we’ll be here. Just remember, you’ve got this. Don’t let one asshole ruin your day.”

I took a deep breath, nodding slowly. It didn’t fix everything, but it was a start.

Rya squeezed my shoulder before leaving the bathroom, leaving me to gather my thoughts. As I stood there, I realized one thing: Maybe it wasn’t about winning Jungkook’s approval. Maybe it was about not letting him—or anyone else—define my worth.

-

It had been a long, draining day at the office. My mind was still tangled with the aftermath of the meeting, Jungkook's biting words still echoing in my head. But I didn’t want to think about it anymore—not right now, at least.

“Come on, Y/N. You need a break,” Hoseok said with that signature grin of his as he tugged me away from my desk. “We’re going out for coffee. You’re coming with us.”

“I… I don’t know if I should,” I replied, glancing at the clock. “I still have some work to catch up on.”

“You’ve been working non-stop for hours,” Rya chimed in, appearing by my side. “It’s one coffee. We’ll keep it short. Besides, you deserve it.”

Reluctantly, I grabbed my bag and followed them out of the office. My shoulders were still tense from the meeting, but I figured a little break wouldn’t hurt.

We walked to the nearby café, a cozy little spot that seemed like the perfect place to relax. The warm scent of coffee beans and pastries filled the air as we stepped inside, and I immediately felt my mood shift. I could finally breathe.

“Alright, get whatever you want,” Hoseok said, waving a hand at the menu. “My treat. You need something sweet after today.”

I gave him a small smile. “Thanks, Hoseok. I’ll just get a latte, I think.”

Rya raised an eyebrow at me. “You sure? You’re not gonna go for something stronger? A double shot maybe?”

I laughed nervously. “No, I think a latte is good for now. I don’t need to be jittery today.”

We ordered our drinks, and as we waited for them, I found myself staring out the window, trying to calm my nerves. There was a weight on my chest that I couldn’t shake. The insults from the meeting were still gnawing at me, and it made my hands shake a little.

Hoseok and Rya must have noticed, because they both came to sit beside me with their drinks, offering me a sense of calm just by being there.

“So,” Hoseok started, his voice light, “how are you really doing? After the meeting?”

I sighed and rested my chin on my hand, glancing down at my latte. “I’m fine, I guess. It just… feels like everything is my fault. I didn’t want to change the design like that, but Tina pushed it through, and then Jungkook…”

Rya shook her head. “I told you, don’t take it personally. That was a power play, pure and simple. Tina wants to prove herself that she is the best one in front of Jungkook and Jungkook thrives on making people feel small.”

Hoseok agreed. “Exactly. Actually, now that I think about it, both of them  got a way of tearing people down just to get what they want. You’ve just gotta learn to take it with a grain of salt. Jungkook’s an asshole, but he’s not the be-all, end-all."

I nodded, though the pit in my stomach didn’t entirely go away. I had always hated confrontation, and Jungkook's words felt like more than just critique. They felt like personal attacks, especially about my appearance. It was one thing for him to dismiss my design choices, but his mockery had stung in a way I didn’t know how to process. "Now that I think about it, Tina and him are more alike, I am confused he hasn't seen that yet.” Hoseok muttered and Rya slapped him on the shoulder in pure realization. "Holy shit, you are right!" I frowned. Were they actually? I wasn't here long enough to know that for sure.

Before I could respond, Rya spoke out, as if sensing my discomfort. “So, have you heard anything about Tina and her little antics?”

I frowned, looking between Rya and Hoseok. “What do you mean?”

Rya leaned in, her voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Tina’s been all over Jungkook lately. Ever since you started, she’s been trying to get his attention, especially at meetings.”

Hoseok smirked, taking a sip of his coffee. “I think we all know what’s going on there. She’s not exactly subtle about it. But Jungkook? He doesn’t seem interested. He’s just… indifferent, which drives her crazy.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? I thought they were close.”

Rya snorted. “Close? They’re business partners, that’s all. And Tina’s obsessed with the idea of him.”

Hoseok laughed softly. “He’s too much of a cold fish for that, honestly. I don’t think Tina’s figured that out yet.”

Just as I was about to respond, the door to the café opened, and a tall man stepped inside, scanning the room briefly. I didn’t pay him much attention at first, but then I noticed Hoseok’s eyes narrow and Rya stiffen beside me.

“Uh-oh,” Rya muttered under her breath. “Look who's here.”

Hoseok sighed, shaking his head. “Great. Just what we needed.”

I looked over at them, confused, and then turned to follow their gaze. The man I’d barely noticed at first was now walking toward the counter to order, and I couldn’t help but notice the aura of confidence he exuded—he had a way of moving that made people take notice. He was tall, with brown, disheveled hair and a piercing gaze that didn’t seem to care about anything or anyone. He was the type of guy who could make the world feel like his playground.

“You’re staring,” Hoseok commented, his voice amused.

“I’m not staring,” I muttered, feeling my face heat up. “Who is he?”

“That’s Min Yoongi,” Rya answered, her tone cautious. “He’s Jungkook’s best friend and his right-hand man.”

I blinked, surprised. “Oh? I’ve never seen him around before.”

Rya nodded. “He doesn’t usually come by the office unless something important is going on. But when he does show up, you’ll know.” She gave me a sly look. “He’s a bit of a troublemaker. A playboy. But don’t let that fool you—he’s got a mind like a steel trap.”

Hoseok snorted. “He’s definitely a sly fox, that one. Flirts with anything that moves, but doesn’t really care about anyone’s feelings. Except Jungkook’s, of course. They’re close. Too close, if you ask me.”

As Min Yoongi made his way over to a table near us, his eyes casually flicked over our group, lingering for just a moment longer than necessary on me. His gaze was sharp, but there was something playful in his expression as he took a seat. He didn’t speak to anyone, just settled in with his drink, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that he was the type to draw people in without even trying.

I couldn’t help but feel a little out of place—Yoongi had an air about him that seemed to demand attention, and I was suddenly aware of the fact that I was sitting here, sipping a latte, with two people I barely knew.

“Don’t get any ideas,” Rya warned with a smirk, noticing the direction of my gaze. “He’s not someone you want to get involved with. Trust me.”

I almost choked on my sip. "Are you crazy? That's inapropriate, firstly and secondly . . . he gives off Jungkook's aura so no thanks. Besides, he'd never notice me." I muttered, my shoulders slumped a little. There was something magnetic about him, but I wasn’t sure if it was the kind of attraction I needed to get mixed up in right now.

Hoseok’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. “Don’t worry. Yoongi doesn’t give a damn about anyone unless they’ve got something to offer him.”

I glanced back at him, still unsure of what to make of the situation. Min Yoongi was definitely intriguing, but not someone I was looking to befriend—especially not with everything going on with Jungkook and Tina.

“Let’s just focus on you for now,” Hoseok said with a wink, nudging me gently. “You’re our priority.”

Rya added, “And remember, we’re here for you. If you ever need anything, just say the word.”

I smiled at them, grateful for their kindness. The world felt a little less heavy with them around. But as I glanced back at Min Yoongi, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

And that was probably just the beginning.

-

A month later since that fateful coffee break with Hoseok and Rya, and in the days that followed, everything had changed. The office felt colder, the walls seemed to close in tighter, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong, even as I kept pushing myself to get through the day.

The worst part? Jungkook hadn’t said a word to me since that horrible meeting. Not a single word of apology, explanation, or even acknowledgment. He continued to pass me in the halls, his eyes cold, his expression distant. It felt as if I was invisible to him now—just a nameless face in the office. I was truly deluding myself that this man actually had morals at all. I was slowly starting to get to terms with that.

Meanwhile, Tina was thriving. Her behavior toward me had grown more insufferable. She’d openly paraded around the office, flaunting her "success" in getting the design changes approved and the "good work" she was supposedly doing with Jungkook. I could see the way she watched him, practically throwing herself at him every chance she got. Jungkook, of course, barely gave her a second glance. I was nor surpised that eventually, after Tina's involvments in my designs, something would happen with me and my position. This woman was jealous of anyone Jungkook paid the slightest attention to and it was pathetic. I was determined to focus on my improvement and work and not let anything distract me.

The office was particularly busy that day. There was a big client meeting happening, and everyone was on edge, scrambling to finish last-minute details. I was still trying to make sense of the mess I’d been handed—new tasks, new responsibilities, but all of them felt like punishment for something I hadn’t even done. I sat at my desk, my fingers hovering over the keyboard, unsure where to begin. Every time I thought about how things had turned out, my stomach twisted.

“You okay?” Rya’s voice startled me, and I looked up to see her standing by my desk, her arms crossed.

I smiled weakly, forcing myself to sit up straight. “Yeah. Just… busy.”

She raised an eyebrow. “You sure? You’ve barely said anything since the last meeting.” Her tone softened, and she dropped her arms. “You’ve been keeping your voice down, and honestly, it’s a little concerning.”

I sighed, glancing around the office. Everyone was too focused on their work to notice what was going on with me. I had to keep it together. “I’m fine, really. Just… a lot on my plate right now.”

Rya studied me for a moment, clearly not buying it. “Listen, if you need to talk, you know I’m here, right?”

“Thanks, Rya,” I muttered, though I couldn’t bring myself to tell her the full extent of how I was feeling. I wasn’t sure if I had it in me to talk about everything—about Tina, about Yoongi, about Jungkook and how they were all acting like I didn’t even exist.

But before I could say more, there was a knock on the door, and Tina’s voice echoed from the hallway.

“Y/N! You’re needed in the meeting room right now.”

My chest tightened. I didn’t have a good feeling about this. But I forced myself to nod and get up, trying to ignore the flutter of panic in my stomach. As I walked down the hallway toward the meeting room, I couldn’t shake the feeling that something big was coming. Something that I wasn’t prepared for.

When I entered the meeting room, I was met with the usual suspects—Tina, Jungkook, and, to my surprise, Yoongi, who was standing at the front of the room, leaning casually against the table, a smug smile on his face.

“Y/N,” Jungkook said flatly, not even looking up from his laptop. “You’re late. Again.”

“I’m sorry,” I said quickly, feeling my cheeks flush. I didn’t need another reprimand today.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, observing me for a moment before turning his attention back to the laptop. “Tina, let’s move on,” he said, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. “We don’t have all day.”

Tina nodded, a little too enthusiastically. “Right. So, Y/N, we’ve been looking at the latest design you’ve submitted. It’s… disappointing.”

I blinked. Disappointing?

I swallowed hard. “What? I—what do you mean?”

“We reviewed it carefully.” Tina flipped through a stack of papers on the table, not meeting my eyes. “And frankly, it doesn’t fit with what the client wants. I think you’ve really missed the mark on this one.”

I felt the sting of her words, but something inside me snapped. “That’s not true,” I said, my voice steady despite the growing panic in my chest. “I made the changes based on the client’s feedback. If there’s an issue, it’s with the last-minute adjustments—those weren’t my ideas. I didn’t want to change anything in the first place.” I glanced at Tina, who had her eyes glued to her papers, avoiding my gaze. “But you pushed for it.”

Tina’s eyes flicked to me, but she didn’t respond. Yoongi, on the other hand, didn’t look surprised at all. He raised an eyebrow and leaned back, his gaze never leaving me.

“You really think you can blame others for your mistakes?” Yoongi’s voice was calm but laced with sarcasm. “Nice try. But the bottom line is, you didn’t deliver. And that’s on you.”

I froze. This was what was happening? Everyone in the room had already made their decision. I could see the smug satisfaction on Tina’s face, the cold indifference in Jungkook’s eyes, and the subtle amusement in Yoongi’s expression. They were all waiting for me to crack, to fold under the pressure.

But I wasn’t going to give them that satisfaction.

“I did my job,” I said quietly, my voice unwavering. “I did exactly what I was told. If the design didn’t work, it’s because it wasn’t my choice to change it in the first place.”

There was a long pause. Yoongi’s smirk widened, as if he’d been waiting for this moment. He leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. “Tina’s right about one thing,” he said, voice low. “You’re not cut out for this job, Y/N. And after the client’s response, I think it’s time to make a few changes.”

My heart skipped a beat. Was I being fired?

Without giving me a chance to respond, Yoongi stood up. “Effective immediately, I’ll be taking over your responsibilities.”

I opened my mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I felt small, helpless, trapped in a situation that seemed to be spiraling beyond my control.

Then, just as I thought the world was closing in on me, Jungkook spoke, his voice cold and distant. “You’ll be working with him now. I’ll make sure you’re briefed on the new tasks later.”

I turned to Jungkook, but he didn’t even look at me. His gaze was focused on his laptop screen again.

I couldn’t breathe. I’d tried. I had really tried to keep my head above water in this toxic office, but now it seemed like it was all slipping through my fingers.

[mjolnirswriststrap]

Not My Type

Bucky Barnes x Plus Size!Reader x Steve Rogers

Word Count: 2,329 Masterlist Part 2

Summary: Bucky is dumb.

Warnings: Fatphobia.

A/N: something short, sweet and simple because I’m starting to feel guilty about not posting 😭

Steve watched, as his friend searched around the club with his eyes. He could assume Bucky was just waiting on the rest of their coworkers to get there, but he knew better. “She’ll get here soon enough, relax.”. Steve leans his back against the booth and takes a long drink of his beer. “Who?” Bucky asks, unconvincingly.

“Y/N.” He says like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Bucky scrunches up his face “As if, man.” He ignores the look of disbelief Steve gives him. “Why deny it? I’ve caught you staring her down more times than I can count.”. Steve stands up and waves to signal Natasha to where they sat. “There’s nothing to deny, she’s not my type, leave it there so no one’s feelings get hurt, okay?” Bucky puts the bottle to his lips to shush himself when he sees you approach the booth.

“You guys look.” Steve’s speechless as he takes in the silk nighties the girls adorned. They all wore semi matching babydoll dresses. Color coded fishnets and heeled slippers adorned their long legs. Their hair was high and teased, makeup adding to the sultry bedtime look they were going for.

“You’re gonna catch flies.” Wanda remarks, leaving to find Vision having the time of his life with the DJ. Steve’s reaction to their costumes did nothing to calm your nerves. You went with the housewife costume too. Just a different approach entirely. Your hair sat in victory rolls atop your head, a thick stack of curls laying on your shoulders, a knee length dress with three quartered sleeves covered you. You’re painted your eyebrows on thinly, just to over line your lips, filling them in with your favorite red Mac lipstick. You were the most modest in your costume, but the most accurate.

You couldn’t wear a see through nightgown to the club. You would die of embarrassment, your rolls would be everywhere. At least in this thick cotton dress, no one could see the layers of shape wear you wore. You slid into the booth and sat beside Steve, getting sandwiched in when Sam finally arrives, late with no costume. “What took you so long, huh khakis?” You tease him, feeling nothing but comfort in his presence.

“You ever had to tell a 10 year old his idea isn’t good enough.” He laughs, “, You should go as yourself Unc!” He recalls the boys words over the phone. “Oh, of course, looks like a superhero to me!” You giggle, loving the thought of his nephews building up his self esteem. He was new to the team, no super strength or speed. Just courage, you admired Sam.

You finally take the chance to look around the booth. Steve wore his vintage Captain America suit, claiming it still fits like a glove. Bucky didn’t wear a costume, just his regular black t-shirt and leather jacket, no effort, even for Halloween. It helped Sam not look so out of place, so you just rolled your eyes at him. He tried way to hard to act like he didn’t care about anything, or anyone. You hate people like that, too self absorbed to carry on a conversation with someone who doesn’t benefit them.

You had been on the wrong side of his attitude before. Bumbling up to him after your first meeting. Stretching out your hand for a shake, he barely touched your hand as he shook your fingers, nodding at you with a curt “Welcome.” You didn’t think much of it till he sat beside Yelena, who got recruited the same day as you, and sparked up a lively conversation with her, telling her if she needs anything at the compound to come ask him. That was the first time Bucky hurt your feelings, and it wouldn’t be the last.

“Y/N!” Someone yells at you from the dance floor. It’s Yelena dancing alone, “You promised me a dance.” She says, holding her arms out for you. You nudge Sam on the shoulder and do the most embarrassing scoot out of the booth you could imagine. Your dress rode up in the time you’d been sitting there, causing your thighs to stick to the old leather. Your face grimaces and you peel your skin away, hoping no one noticed.

“I’m on the dance floor, as promised.” You say, holding her hands while she dances on you. “You’re gonna need to do more than stand there if you want him to notice you.” She remarks, not skipping a beat. Yelena knew you too well, she knew you picked the 40s for a reason, not going with their free spirit 60s slumber get up.

Giving her a wide eyed look, as if he heard over the thumping music. “We both know I have no rhythm, stop that.” You giggle when she presses her back against you and slides down into a squat. She goes behind you and grabs your hips, forcing you against her chest. She grinds you into her pelvis, using her hands to guide your hips in sync with hers. You never moved that way before, and the sensuality of it had your heart racing. Yelena could be anyone, tightly holding on to you, you closed your eyes and threw your head back on her shoulder, just to imagine it was him for a moment.

You feel Yelena’s lips tickle your ear and she’s whispering “Look who can’t take their eyes off of you.” You tilt your head down and open your eyes to lock them with Bucky’s. He looks angry, like you pissed in his cheerios. You turn your body around to face Yelena, “I think he’s upset I’m blocking his view from you.”. That causes her to laugh out loud, grabbing your shoulders to shake you. “You’re mad woman! Look at what’s right in front of you.”. You laugh and look behind you to see Bucky staring down his beer now, instead of you.

“Yelena, I don’t know how to put this, he probably doesn’t even go for girls like me, skinny blonde seems more his type. You, you seem more his type.” You plead with her. She just shakes her head, “He doesn’t like me, I promise, Y/N.” You nod your head, trusting the closest friend you had.

•••••••

You make your way to the bar, grabbing a drink to cool yourself off. You’re walking back to the booth to get off your feet when you overhear Steve and Bucky’s conversation.

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“You look like a helpless puppy, just make your move.”

“As if I’d need to, she’s probably never had male attention, that’s too easy.”

“Just admit that you’re afraid of rejection.”

“From her? Never in a million years would fatty have a chance. Like I said she’s obviously not my type.”. Bucky instantly regretted the words as they came out of his mouth, he didn’t mean it. But Steve wouldn’t stop accusing him of having a crush on you.

Tears threaten to spill from your eyes, but you push them down. You knew better, Yelena didn’t, you shouldn’t have let her give you false hope. You choke down your pride and turn the corner, sliding into the booth as if nothing happened. “I think this is my last drink guys, I’m getting tired, and winter training starts tomorrow.”.

An echo of ‘boos’ and a “noooo why.” Almost tempt you to stay. But you know you’re not wanted here, by the one person that mattered. Steve catches your attention, “Are you sure? The nights still young.” He wiggles his brows. You give him a tight lipped smile, knowing he tried to get Bucky to make a move.

“Yeah, there’s really not much for me here. I came for Natasha.” He nods, giving Bucky a death glare. You finish your drink and when you stand up the previous shots you had with Wanda hit you. You quickly sit back down, grabbing the table for stability. “Are you alright?” Steve rests his hand on your lower back, scooting closer to you.

You shake your head, not being able to form words. You think you’d faint if you didn’t focus on breathing. “Let me help you home.” He can see the unsure expression on your face. “Wouldn’t be respecting the suit if I didn’t make sure you got home safe.”. With that he convinced you.

When the cold October air hits your face, it sobers you a little bit, taking away the dizzy feeling, leaving you with a thumping head. Steve takes a few minutes to join you outside, you left him in a heated whisper match with Bucky.

You’re leaned against the side of the building when he finds you. “Ready to go?” He offers you his arm but you shake your head. “No need to be such a gentleman, it’s just me.” You say, knowing he’s doing it just to be nice.

Steve cocks his head to the side. “Why shouldn’t I be a gentleman towards you?” He asks. You press your pounding head against the brick wall, closing your eyes to think of the right words. “The only reason a guy needs to be a gentleman is for good impressions. I highly doubt you feel a need to impress me.”.

He scoffs at you, “What gives you the impression that you’re not worth impressing?”. Even though you were tipsy, Bucky’s words seared your frontal lobe. You suddenly are at a loss for words. How do you tell him you were eavesdropping on their conversation.

“I just don’t get much male attention I guess.” You let him in, his eyes widen in realization that you heard Bucky’s harsh words. “I’m sorry about him, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” He says, stepping closer to you. You roll your eyes at him.

“No, he knew exactly what he was talking about. Fatty is no one’s type. No one looks at me and thinks “woah, the most beautiful woman in the world just walked in the room”.” You push yourself off the wall. “I understand that you wouldn’t get that, since you’re so perfect Steve. Women lay down at your feet, your options are endless. But not for someone like me.”.

Steve’s face had turned into a stone. His jaw clenched tightly. He let you vent out your frustrations. “The way you looked at the girls, the way half the club looked at the girls, I’ll never have that.”. You look at your feet and notice him take a step closer to you. You look up to see your faces not too far apart.

“I was looking at you too.” He reaches out, letting his hands hover over your waist. He rests them on your hips when your don’t push him away. “I don’t care what he said, he’s just insecure, he can’t admit that he thinks you’re hot.” You scoff at him this time.

“Steve whatever you’re doing, I get the whole nice guy thing. But just stop.” You say, pressing your hand against his chest. The thin polyester did nothing to conceal his smooth muscles. You feel him squeeze your sides tighter, his thumbs pressing into your belly. “He doesn’t speak for me.”.

You look into his dark eyes. “What are you saying?”. You’d never even humored yourself by considering Steve. You now had to rethink every encounter you ever had with him. “Forget him, let me show you how a real man appreciates a woman.”

He slides his hands down, letting them grasp as much of your ass that could fit in them. You gasp, he wasn’t afraid of your body, he knows what it has to offer. Judging by the way he gripped on to your ass like his life depended on it, he liked it.

“What if someone sees?” You say, pushing his hands off of you. He replaces them “I’m not afraid, why are you?” He leans down, connecting your lips, you’re frozen for a moment. How do you kiss him back? Before you could find out you feel a hand on your shoulder, ripping you away from Steve.

“What are you doing?” Bucky is talking to his friend, ignoring your existence. “Excuse me, we were in the middle of something.” Steve steps between you and Bucky. “You shouldn’t be out here hooking up with a random coworker.” Bucky says, trying to convince himself.

“Y/N isn’t a random coworker, Jesus Bucky, what’s your problem?” Steve asks, letting his anger show. He knew what he was doing, if Bucky wouldn’t admit it on his own, jealousy would work just fine. Bucky balls up his fists at his side “You know what my problem is.”.

You’re staring at Steve’s back, you don’t know what Bucky’s talking about. Is he so repulsed by a plus size woman, he doesn’t even want his friend with one? You were done, you’d never done anything to Bucky besides exist. He had an imaginary problem with you.

You stepped around Steve, crossing your arms in front of your chest. You don’t know where the boost of confidence came from, probably Steve’s lips and hand placement. You look Bucky up and down, truly taking him in.

He was perfect, and he knew it. It was starting to disgust you. “Just because ‘fattys’ like me have no chance with you, doesn’t mean that I’m not worthy of another man being attracted to me.” You take a step back, pressing yourself against Steve. Just to show Bucky, you meant business.

Basing it off of the hard indentation on the front of Steve’s spandex, he liked watching you tell Bucky off. You turn your body around to face him, throwing a look over your shoulder at Bucky, “Take me home Stevie.” You sing song in his ear.

A smirk falls on his lips, “Let’s do that princess.” He says while leading you out of the alley. Bucky is stuck in place, having an internal war with himself, that you weren’t gonna stick around for.

[bluesidez]

Hi! I saw your opening requests!

I was hoping for Miguel O’Hara x plus-size reader. Reader is a regular waitress who meets both Miguel and Spider-Man. Knows Miguel because he’s become a regular and Spider-Man because the diner gets robbed, but Reader manages to save herself. Also if the reader could have glasses that would be awesome!

It’s up to you! You’re the writer.

Also I just wanted to say I love your Gym rat Miguel series! 😁❤️💙❤️

[Dual]

lab taster: Anonymous Participant 🩻

pairing: Miguel O'Hara x PlusSize!Reader

summary: There's something strange about that guy in the corner...

content warning: fluffy, definitely suggestive at parts, I kind of take a bit from the comic books, but it's still the ATSV Miguel, Kasey Nash is here + a certain someone for like a millisecond, talks of violence, guns, and threats (but nothing too terrifying), also LOTS of mentions of food. like lotsssss

word count: 3.6k, halfway proofread

a/n: I started writing this as if she worked at a fancy restaurant, but then I realized you said diner, so I had to backtrack. ALSO THANK YOU FOR THE LOVE ON GYM RAT MIGUEL!!! 🩵

“I’ve never seen one man eat so much.”

You looked to where your coworker was staring, eyes landing on the man that frequents the corner of the dim dining room.

“He’s a big guy. He probably needs it,” you flipped through your pad in order to avoid looking at the person who’s been wrapped in your thoughts for a few months now.

He always comes in just when the afternoon is turning into evening and the sun kisses his skin through the window. Most days he looks a little tired, lost in thought as he waits for his food.

His order is usually the same: a double-stacked burger with a large fry and a black coffee. Sometimes, he’d substitute the meal with a heavy breakfast, pouring syrup over everything. Other times, he’d order pork chops and gravy with a slice of apple pie to take home.

He always looked a bit sheepish when he asked for a meal to-go, as if you would judge him openly for being a working man.

On the contrary, you wondered why he always came here. From the shine on his watch to the material of his clothes, you could tell he could afford better establishments to eat at.

“If you’re done ogling at him, you can bring him the check,” Kasey snickered at you. “He keeps looking over here and it’s freaking me out.”

“You just don’t like anyone but that flying bug guy.”

“That’s Mr. Spider-Man to you,” Kasey moved so that you could print out his receipt. “And he does something useful with his time like save civilians. That guy just comes in here and looks at you like he wants to eat you for dessert.”

“What?”

You turn to him again and he quickly looks out of the window, plastic cup pressed against his lips.

“I don’t think he even sees me like that,” you mumble, ripping the paper from the machine and placing it onto the clipboard. “He’s just a man who enjoys comforting meals and ambiance.”

“Yeah. An ambiance that starts and ends with you and your ass, maybe.”

An affronted “hey” goes ignored by Kasey who disappears to go serve another table.

She really shouldn’t have put that thought into your head, because now you’re more hyperaware of your actions than usual.

You wipe at your apron and pull your dress down before you head towards his table, steps a bit hesitant.

As you get closer, he looks back at you. Maybe he is interested, but maybe you’re a bit delusional.

“Here’s your check, sir. I hope you enjoyed your meal,” you placed the clipboard on the table. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No, thank you,” he holds up the check up with a small smile. “Maybe a name so I know who my tip is going to.”

Your fingers press against the frames of your glasses, pushing them up a little.

Did you forget to introduce yourself to him when you sat him down?

When you say your name, your confusion must have carried over to your face because the way the man brings his hands up is quick.

“Ah, it’s fine Mr.-“ you take a glance at his card, never mind that you’ve already memorized his name, “O’Hara.”

“Miguel is fine.”

“Mr. Miguel.”

“Just. Miguel is fine.”

You nod and smile. Miguel was fitting for a face like that, and your heart felt the same way as you completed his transaction and handed him his receipt.

The thought of him being interested in you was cute to imagine, but you didn’t want to get your hopes up.

Kasey taps your shoulder as she carries a coffee jug back to the machine, “Go clear your table. There’s a tip.”

With a routined step, you start to stack his empty plates. Napkins get thrown into the bin, and utensils are gathered.

A gasp leaves your lips as a stack of 20s reveals itself. A note wrapped around it says your name and “Thank you for always making my nights.”

Maybe Kasey was right. She could never know that, though.

It’s about a week or so before Miguel comes back.

Oddly enough, too much happened at the diner within that time.

Your boss was on your ass about splitting your tips with a manager that was never there. Creeps kept lingering around the corner during closing time. Your schedule was insane and you’ve hit your monthly limit of rude customers.

When Miguel comes in, it’s almost as if white angel wings were attached to him.

“What can I get you today?” you ask with a smile.

“I think just a black coffee to start off,” he looks over you. “New uniforms?”

You glance down at your dress, the neckline of it plunging severely low.

“Yeah. The boss thinks it’ll bring in more customers,” you yank at the back of the dress, still a bit nervous about how high the skirt is on your body. It’s tight in places that no uniform can should be, hugging your curves, and exposing your chest and legs. “I think he’s full of it.”

Miguel is silent for a while, eyes roaming in a way that you couldn’t quite discern.

“He definitely was onto something.”

You blink.

“Uh, is he- He’s not causing any problems for you, is he?”

“No. It’s all good. For now.”

He stumbles his way through his order, corned beef on rye bread with swiss cheese and sauerkraut along with some homemade potato spirals.

“Will that be all for you?”

“Yes, thank you,” he hides behind his coffee mug as you walk away.

While you wait for his order to be done, you watch Kasey run around and chat with some of your regulars. Despite how grumpy she could be, she was a natural at keeping the customers entertained.

Refilling the drinks for a few people at the barstools, your mind drifts to what Kasey is saying to one of the old geezers who’s keen on superstitions.

“I’m just saying, there has to be a motive for why he only strikes in the afternoon!”

“Are you sure he’s just not an idiot desperate for attention?” Kasey removes his empty plate and tops off his water. “Leaving notes with riddles? That’s so been-there-done-that.”

“Kase, I don’t think you get it, doll. His attacks have gotten more and more severe. He’s starting to target a specific demographic.”

A shout and a ding by the window lets you know that Miguel’s order is ready. You place an extra pickle on his plate just because.

Rounding the corner of the bar, Kasey is still bickering about the city’s most recent villain.

“Listen. If I’m ever in dire need,” she turns and sighs dramatically at a news segment featuring Spider-Man flying across buildings, “I know who to call for.”

The old man clicks his teeth and throws a hand at the screen, “What a bunch of rubbish. That prick isn’t worth a hoot. The Fly-Boys are your best bet.”

“As if those douchebags can do anything for me. Hurry up and pay, mister.”

You place Miguel’s food in front of him, mouth moving before your mind.

“Spider-man seems like a nice guy.”

“What makes you say so?” Miguel reaches for the ketchup.

“Oh, I don’t know. Kasey is always going on and on about him, so any doubts I had, she’s already debunked.”

He’s silent, turning over his sandwich.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he’s pretty cool. He must be stressed out from everything, though. I couldn’t imagine taking on so much. What about you?”

He coughs, “What about me?”

“What do you think of Spider-Man?”

“He’s practical, always gets the job done. Maybe a bit too ambitious for his own good.”

“You talk like you know him.”

“I’ve never met him,” Miguel hums. “ Just taking a wild guess.”

The clip switches to Spider-Man throwing a car right at a villain camping out in a park resulting in immediate flames.

“That’s practical, alright.”

Miguel clears his throat, “He’s probably had better days.”

It’s been raining a lot which meant slower business and slower tips.

You’ve spent most work hours folding and refolding the towel in your apron pocket or flipping through the songs on the jukebox to fill the stillness of the diner.

A few lone stragglers were enjoying their meal, keeping quiet to themselves.

The chefs in the back were roughhousing and Kasey was ticking down when she could clock out.

Two more hours and thirty until you could fight through the rain to get home.

The bell to the door rings, opening up to a drenched Miguel.

A smile comes to your face as if you won a cash prize.

“Hey, stranger,” Kasey says as she turns and starts up a pot of coffee as you round the corner. “Glad to see you here. She was worried sick! You haven’t come in for a while.”

“Kasey, hush!”

“No, no, let her speak,” Miguel taps against the counter. “I’d like to hear what she has to say.”

You elbow Kasey before she even thinks to respond, “Would you like your regular seat, Miguel?”

“I would love that. Had a long day.”

“That you should tell her all about over some coffee,” Kasey smiles. “Go ahead, I’ll cover you.”

You sigh as Kasey follows you to wear Miguel usually sits, and gets Miguel’s order down. She fights silently with you over sitting down across from him. Her eyes saying something along the lines of “we can split the tip,” “here’s your chance,” and “that old fart isn’t going to fire you.”

So there you were, sitting across the guy who you anticipate to come in every so often. The guy who loved simple, American-style meals. The guy with the nice build and a pretty face.

The guy who can’t stop looking at your chest right now.

“You said you had a tough day?” you peer at him from over your glasses, a little unsure of what his steady eyes meant.

“Um, yeah,” he stutters. “There’s been some changes in positions at my job. Some higher ups are giving me trouble, but I think they’re scared they’re about to lose their seats.”

“Oh, you didn’t tell me you were a big-shot.”

“I wouldn’t say all of that,” he grins as he bends his head down. The way his hair falls is dreamy and it’s no fair that he still looks this good despite the rain dousing him. “I’m just in an interesting spot.”

Kasey plops down a hot plate of chopped steak and mashed potatoes smothered in gravy with some steaming broccoli on the side. There’s a heaping amount of food on the plate and you give her an incredulous look before she whips out an extra pair of utensils.

“The guys in the back a closing up shop. They want as little dishes to wash as possible.”

“We don’t close until-”

“As little dishes as possible!” Kasey sing-songs, leaving you shifting in your seat.

Miguel picks up a fork, “I hope you like beef.”

He starts to cut into the meat and you’re slow to follow, watching his arms bulge through through his sweater.

You wonder if he could hear your heart rattling in your chest.

The conversation continues and you learn that Miguel works at Alchemax working as a head lab technician.

“Miguel, that’s amazing! I’ve seen old classmates nearly go to war for that position.”

“It’s not all that it’s chalked up to be.”

“It’s still astounding that you got to that level,” you push your fork through some potatoes and take a bite, “You should be proud. And if not, I’m proud of you.”

“Thank you,” he looks up at you while you continue to chew. “You’ve got something here.”

“Oh,” you quickly take your fingers to your lips, embarrassed.

“Here,” Miguel reaches across from you and wipes he corner of your mouth with a napkin. “All better.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

Time is lost as you two exchange words, Miguel making you laugh over the smallest things. He’s as sweet as ever, his compliments make you ecstatic, and he listens when you go into your own stories. Your cheeks hurt from how much you’ve been grinning.

“Hey, so, I’ve been thinking,” Miguel starts.

“About?”

He takes a deep breath, shoulders tensing up.

“I would love to take you on a date. Somewhere nice and exciting. That’s if you would want to, of course. I don’t want to pressure you.”

“Miguel,” you stop his ramblings with a hand on his wrist, “I would love to go on a date with you.”

His shoulders relax, and his smile is wide.

The chime of the door rings, signaling another customer coming inside. His hands are in his pockets and his hoodie is pulled tight around him. Not an uncommon sight, but the diner was set to close soon.

You followed his steps as he sat in Kasey’s side of the diner, his leg bouncing repeatedly.

“For our date,” Kasey meets your eyes before she goes to his table. Her hospitable tone switched on. “Where were you thinking of going?”

Miguel begins to answer, but you continue to stare at the other side of the room. The guy is jumpy and from what you can tell, snappy. Kasey looks antsy as she walks back to the counter to grab a cup and a picture of water.

Miguel turns around to look where you’re watch and turns back, “Is something wrong?”

“That guy is making Kasey nervous. She’s hiding it well, but she’s freaking out.”

You both watch as he scans that side of the room, body rocking in the still chair.

It was daunting and quiet. The sound of the rain drowning out the idle noises of the dining room.

“Something’s not right,” you whisper.

From how Miguel gets up, you can see that he can feel the uneasiness, too.

Kasey walks over to him, a slice of thick chocolate cake on a small plate in her hands. She places it on the table, ready to ask if he needs anything else.

Time stops as he grabs her arm and yanks her towards him, the few customers left stopping to watch the scene. Kasey pulls her arm back, ready to put up a fight.

The man pulls something out of his pocket, Kasey’s voice reaching a shriek. You gasp as you see him point it right at her head, nerves nearly failing you. People scramble to corners of the room, some falling to the floor.

Miguel grabs your arm and drags you to the bathroom, your hands covering your mouth as you fight the urge to scream.

You can’t feel anything as he shoves you into a stall, your limbs trembling. Tears are running down your face as you try to think, but Miguel is holding you up to keep you from falling.

“Stay in here, and lock the door. Don’t come out.”

“But Miguel, he has a gun! We, we should call someone. You can’t go back out there!”

“I’ll be ok. I promise.”

“How do you know that?”

“Look at me,” Miguel takes your hands as you slide to the floor. He makes the trip easy, arms solid. “I’ll meet you when this is over, ok?”

“Ok,” your vision blurs as Miguel leaves, face worn with sorrow.

You don’t know how long you’ve been sitting on the gross bathroom floor, sobbing into your hands.

You could hear shouting and screaming, the yells of the man telling everyone to shut up. A few bangs of his gun went off and you bit your wrist in order to give yourself away. It didn’t feel right to be the only one to make an escape, but maybe you would be next to die, too.

The rain continues outside, a loud strike of thunder echoing off the tiles as lights flicker off. Your heartbeat picks up as you try not to make a sound. The lightning illuminates the room for a second, and the noise from outside stops.

You can’t tell what’s going on, the pit of your stomach falling with every second.

The door bangs open, and you feel like passing out. It sounds like the ocean is roaring in your ears as you try to listen for footsteps.

One second turns into two, two turns into ten, and you lose count of how long you’re holding your breath.

Your stall is pried open as the lightning shines through the window. Even as you see the masked hero, your throat lets out a weak cry.

“Come on,” he says, eyes on his mask squinting. “It’s safe now.”

With your eyes refocusing, you see Spider-Man standing tall and proud, with Kasey latched to his back like a koala.

Your hand moves across the stall before you feel yourself falling forward.

Spider-Man catches you with ease, lifting you into his arms.

“Thank you, thank you!”

“It’s what I’m here for.”

He carries you both back to the dining room where the robber is beaten black and blue, tied up in neon red webbing. People are huddled up together as policemen ask them questions.

Spider-Man places you in a seat and grabs a blanket from the pile that was brought in. You thank him with a soft voice.

“You can get off of my back now,” he tells Kasey. “He won’t hurt you any time soon.”

“No! I think I want to stay here,” she says. Her eyes surveying the side of his head. Her hands rub the side of his mask, “You really are as sturdy as they say. And this suit! It’s so cooling. What’s it made of? Silk?”

“No, it’s- Will you get off of me, please?”

Kasey jumps to the floor, face filled with glee, like she didn’t just get held at gunpoint.

“Where’s my phone? I have to get a picture. Look here! Say ‘whiskey’! Oh, wait, you can’t really smile can you? Can you sign something for me? My friends are going to be so jealous.”

Spider-Man stiffens up as Kacey flits around him like an excited puppy.

You try to be happy for her, but you can’t find Miguel. He said we would be ok.

There’s an old couple by the window, a mom and her son by the bar, a truck driver talking to the police. No Miguel.

“Shock, can you give me a second?” Spider-Man barks as Kasey tries to climb over him again, squealing like a schoolgirl.

“Excuse me,” you tug at his hand that Kasey doesn’t have a grip on, “Have you seen a man, about 6’8 or so? Sweater, khakis, and a lanyard. He- he was with me before the robber came. I don’t see him anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, this is everyone that was here when I came. Maybe he went to get help.”

“Oh, god,” you take in a watery gulp of air. “What if something happened to him out there? He told me he would be ok!”

“Hey, I’m sure wherever he is, he’ll be alright. No need to panic. Everything from here and a few miles out is taken care of. No one else is coming out here in this weather.”

The guy starts to wake up and fight against the webbing.

“I gotta take care of this,” he pulls Kasey off of him. “See you around, ladies.”

“But Spider-Man-”

Oranges, blues, and reds flash before you, Spider-Man flopping the man over his shoulder as he walks through, stoic silhouette disappearing before you.

You sit in horror as everything weighs down on you.

Something, no, someone, was taken from you before it even had a chance to begin.

Kasey’s hands are rubbing on your back as you cry into the blanket in your lab.

You had no idea where Miguel was.

“I’m sure he’s alright,” Kasey whispers to you, “And if not, I’ll kill him.”

A chuckle comes out of you, a bit half-hearted.

The lights of a car beam through the windows, doors slamming as people came rushing through the door.

You look up to Miguel and a man that looked almost identical.

“Miguel!” you run to him, his arms nearly taking you off the ground. “Oh my god, are you alright? Are you hurt?”

Your hands shake as you touch across his face. He’s all intact, although still drenched.

“I’m ok, I promised you I would be. I went to go get help.”

“Hot help at that,” Kasey whistles as she looks at the man behind Miguel.

“Are you alright?” Miguel covers the hand you have on your face. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“I’m better now,” you practically melt into him. “Is that date still on?”

“It was never off. I just need your number now. And we can get out of here, yeah?”

You nod and lean onto his chest listening to his heart sing to you.

It feels familiar.

As always, if you enjoyed, please like, reblog, and COMMENT! It felt very mysterious to write even thought I didn't really mean for it to be.

[nanamincreampie]

Quiet choso

Choso Kamo x Black plus size reader

Warning: 18+ mdni, Choso expriencing puppy love

( part 2 ) (part 3)

Quiet Choso who’s always been on the sidelines, keeping to himself but never missing a single detail when it comes to you.

He’s seen you in class so many times, always effortlessly put together. Your soft 4c hair, styled in a neat bun today, draws his eyes whenever you walk in, and your rich, deep skin glows, accentuating every curve of your plus-sized frame. It’s not that he’s staring, at least not in an obvious way, but his gaze always seems to find its way back to you, the way your dress hugs your hips, the soft outline of your waist, and the fullness of your thighs that press against the seat when you sit. He notices everything about you without trying.

He never says much, but he’s always listening, especially when you speak in study groups. The soft, calm tone of your voice commands his attention in ways that the professors never could. Even when you greet him in passing with a gentle "Hey," he only responds with a quiet nod or a brief “Hi,” his voice barely above a whisper. He’s not used to talking, especially not to someone who stirs him up like this.

Today, though, it feels different. You’re sitting in the library, the same place he often studies, and your presence is impossible to ignore. The fitted dress you’re wearing perfectly hugs your curves, and from his spot across the room, he admires how effortlessly beautiful you are. Every time you shift in your seat or tuck a curl behind your ear, his eyes linger just a second too long.

As he flips through his notes, his mind isn’t on the pages in front of him it’s on you. He tries to focus, but when he glances up, you’re smiling at him, soft and shy. His heart skips a beat.

You catch him watching, and with a soft laugh, you tease, "Choso, are you even studying, or are you just people-watching?"

His throat tightens, and he clears it, turning his eyes back to his notes. “I’m studying,” he mutters, though even he knows it’s a lie.

You stand up and start to make your way toward the stacks of books nearby, and his gaze follows you, admiring how gracefully you move. There’s an ease in the way you walk, your dress moving fluidly over your curves, every bit of your figure making his mind race. And when you bend slightly to grab a book from a lower shelf, he can’t help the way his breath hitches, eyes drawn to the way the fabric clings to your hips and thighs.

It’s then that another guy walks up to you, trying to make conversation. Choso clenches his fist under the table, feeling a sudden rush of jealousy as the guy leans in too close, his eyes wandering over your figure. He watches the interaction from a distance, his jaw tight.

"Come on, don’t you want to grab a coffee or something?" the guy presses, a little too eager.

You smile politely but shake your head, clearly uninterested. "No, I’m good. I’ve got a lot of studying to do."

Choso feels the tension in his chest ease a bit as you turn the guy down, and when you return to your seat, your eyes meet his again. There’s a playful glint in your gaze, as if you know he’s been watching.

"You alright, Choso?" you ask, your voice soft, genuinely curious.

He nods stiffly, trying to keep his cool. "Yeah, I’m fine," he says, though his tone betrays him.

You tilt your head, eyes narrowing slightly as if you’re figuring him out. "You sure? You seem… distracted."

Choso doesn’t answer immediately, unsure how to respond without giving too much away. Instead, he lowers his eyes to his book, biting the inside of his cheek.

You laugh softly and shake your head. "Well, don’t let me distract you too much. We’ve got exams coming up." You give him a teasing smile before returning to your notes.

And Quiet Choso, who sits there, unable to shake the feeling growing inside him, is left wondering just how much longer he can stay quiet about how he feels. Because every time you walk by with your curves, your soft voice, and that smile, it gets harder and harder to keep his thoughts to himself.

[cherryredstars]

OKAY OKAY but IMAGINE

A reader who owns a cafe and this grumpy ahh Miguel always orders one specific item which usually no one buys. Reader notices the small details about this regular guy cuz well it’s MIGUEL reader has a tint crush.

One day spiderman saves the reader from thieves or something. Basically he ends up in her cafe and as a thank you the reader offers food and he just sighs instinctively picking the same dessert and muscle memory doing a trick.

Basically WHAT IM SAYING IS imagine the reader next time Miguel orders at their cafe puts a lil spider themed candy

They somehow signal him that: HAHA I KNOW WHO YOU ARE GRUMPY >:3

(Using >:3 to tell you the reader has chaotic energy.)

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of Attempted Mugging

Summary: It simply can’t be a coincidence.

Word Count: 1.2K (Not Edited)

There’s something mysterious about that man. 

Yes, it may have to do something with his gigantic size and almost too wide shoulders. Or the fact he always looks like he’s a second away from shoving the next person out of the way. Oh and how can you forget the part where he has only said the same seven words to you since he’s been here. Medium coffee, black. Add one of those. Then he proceeds to point at the display at the one pastry you can never sell out. No thank you’s, please’s, how are you’s. He quite literally only says those seven words and then grunts at any of your questions. He’s only ever said one extra word to you, which was his name the first time he visited because he paid in cash.

Honestly, you find him very intimidating. He’s the only reason that non-selling pastry is still available. Usually, you’d have it removed and replaced with another item. But you absolutely dread the idea of him being pissed at you for removing the only other item he gets daily. Plus, you don’t want your existence to be reduced to three words. So, it’s here to stay. You just make it in the smallest batch possible and then give the extras, along with other leftover pastries, to the local soup kitchen to give out the next day. Even then, you’re pretty sure they end up throwing away the pastry at the end of the day since no one wanted it. 

Nonetheless, it’s only right to give back to the community around you. No matter what gets eaten or not. At least they get the choice to decide if they want to try it. It’s better than throwing out all the food when you know there are people who could need it. Mondays are always the busiest days, so you make sure to make a little extra pastries and food to be able to give a pleasing amount to the kitchen. As you stuff the last of the remaining pastries into the box, you close it up and stack it on top of the first box. You pull on the handles of the bag under everything, having them securely supported for easy carry. You grab your canvas bag from the backroom, checking your prep in the fridges and freezers one last time before getting ready to leave. You grab the bag of pastries as you make your way to the back door, once again thankful that you don’t have to lock it since it’s not accessible from the outside. 

As you begin to walk down the small stone steps and out of the small indent on the street, something behind you rattles. You jump slightly, hand tightening on the bag as you turn around quickly. The hairs on the back of your neck stand as you squint into the darkness, trying to spot something. You slightly relax as nothing seems out of the ordinary. Perhaps it was a stray cat or even a mouse. The thought makes you scrunch up your nose and you begin to turn around again so you can make it to the shelter before it closes its doors for the night. 

You instantly scream as you come faced to face with a man in a ski mask. He instantly covers your mouth, pushing you against the back door. You almost trip as you’re forced to walk up the steps and your body tenses as it hits the door. You feel something cold and metallic against your side, eyes widening as you attempt to look down. It’s hard with his hand covering part of your face and it takes him shaking you and slightly banging your head against the door to realize he’s speaking to you about money and jewelry. You can feel your hands trembling, tears welling up. You almost want to sob and yell when you notice another figure approaching behind the man. 

Oh how perfect, there’s two.

But you’re surprised when the figure grabs the man’s shoulder, revealing the almost shiny blue and red of a familiar costume. The man is quickly yanked off of you, and you take a sharp inhale now that your mouth is uncovered. You watch the commotion with wide eyes as the figure- as Spiderman- quickly disarms the mugger and pulls out makeshift handcuffs. The man struggles in them as he sits at the hero’s feet. Spiderman makes no notice to him, instead focusing on a floating screen as he reports the incident via an anonymous tip for the police station. 

You’re still struggling to wrap your mind around what just happened when the Spider turns to you, “You okay?”

You blink rapidly, nodding almost numbly, “Uh, yeah… I think. Thank you.”

He gives you a grunt and if you had a clearer mind, you might have recognized it. As the hero turns to leave you call out. He lets out another grunt of displeasure, but you pay little attention to it as you set the pastry bag down and pull out the box from the top. 

“Take one. They’re leftovers from today, but they’re still good. Consider it my thank you.”

You open the box and peer inside of it as you present it to him. It’s full of small sandwiches, a few different flavors of bread slices, and in the corner there are few of Miguel’s usual pastries. You expect the spider to go for one of the sandwiches, but your eyes widen as he takes three of Miguel’s pastry. You stare at the spot they had been in the box before staring at the hero. There is simply no way.

Your eyes study the hero, taking in his build for the first time. Enormous height and wide shoulders. Same posture and same pastry. Surely, it couldn’t be a simple coincidence. You slowly close the box, holding the sides of it tightly as the hero starts to deport. You stare after him in astonishment, even as the sound of police cars start sounding and two officers rush into the alley to find the tied up mugger and you. 

There is simply no way.

You show up early the next day to the bakery. You take care making everything, letting them cool slightly before putting them in the display cases. Once the doors open, the usual morning rush spews in, and you spend the next two to three hours serving customers. As per usual, he comes right as the morning rush ends, and you feel a giddiness as he walks up to the counter. 

“Medium coffee, black. Add one of th-” You smile widely when he pauses.

His eyes are trained to his pastry. Today it looks different. In the center of the flakey dough there is a cut out of a spider, revealing the filling inside. He squints at it, leaning his face closer to the glass to view it. When he looks up to you, he can see the knowing glint in your eyes and the teasing smirk on your face. He sighs, something between displeased and amused before he stands up straight again. 

“Add one of those.” He finishes his previous sentence, pulling out his card to pay. 

“Sure thing,” You smile, approving the transaction before turning around and getting started on his coffee. “...Spiderman.”

From the grunt behind you, you know he heard.

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[bingbongsupremacy]

Library MeetCute

Pairing: Steve Harrington x Hinted Plus!Sizereader

Warning: Y/N use, mentions reader being plus size but not heavily expanded upon

Summary: You're artsy and chubby. All you were trying to do is study in the library. Why does Steve want to sit with you? Will something come from this?

*Not Proof Read*

□□□□□□□□

The library smells like dust and old paper, one of your favorite scents in the world. It’s a quiet sanctuary away from the gray, drizzly Hawkins day outside, and you’ve taken over a corner table with your research. Stacks of books surround you: art theory, nature photography, and one random volume on the history of Indiana for inspiration. Your sketchpad lies open, a pencil resting between its pages as you mull over ideas for the mural you’ve been commissioned to paint at the park near the middle school.

You adjust in your chair, feeling the fabric of your favorite oversized sweater shift against your skin. It’s one of those pieces of clothing that makes you feel good—soft, comforting, and paired perfectly with your black leggings. You tug at the hem instinctively, more out of habit than self-consciousness.

“Uh, excuse me?”

The voice catches you off guard. You glance up and freeze. Standing there, holding a slightly battered book, is none other than Steve Harrington.

You know him, of course. Everyone in Hawkins does. Former King of Hawkins High, current co-manager of Family Video, and resident heartthrob—even if his popularity has taken on a more grounded, approachable vibe over the years. He looks… well, a little frazzled. His hair, that famous Harrington mane, is still artfully messy, and his jeans are just tight enough to hint at his athletic frame. But there’s something in his expression—a mix of sheepishness and determination—that makes you blink.

“Mind if I sit here?” he asks, gesturing to the chair across from you. His voice is casual, but there’s a politeness in it you don’t expect.

“Uh… sure. Go ahead,” you say, scooping up your pencil and pulling your books closer to make room.

“Thanks,” he says, sliding into the chair. He sets the book down—a DIY guide to car repair—and glances at you briefly before flipping it open.

You try to go back to your sketchpad, but it’s impossible. Steve Harrington is sitting across from you, and your brain won’t stop supplying unhelpful commentary. What’s he doing in a library? Doesn’t he have better places to be? And why does he look like he’s actually trying to read that book?

After a few minutes, he clears his throat, looking up. “So… what’s all this?” He gestures to your table, his tone genuinely curious.

You glance at the mess of books, feeling a twinge of self-consciousness. “Oh, uh, it’s for a mural project. I’m painting something for the park, and I’m trying to come up with ideas.”

His eyebrows lift, and a smile tugs at his lips. “That’s awesome. I didn’t know Hawkins had stuff like that.”

“It doesn’t, usually,” you admit with a shrug. “It’s just something I’m doing to brighten the place up a little. It’s… not exactly a thriving metropolis.”

Steve chuckles at that, a sound that’s warm and surprisingly disarming. “Yeah, no kidding. Good for you, though. Hawkins could use some color.”

For a moment, you let yourself feel proud. He means it—you can tell from his tone.

“What about you?” you ask, nodding toward his book. “Fixing up a car?”

“Trying to,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “The Beemer’s been acting up, and, uh… mechanics are expensive. Figured I’d give it a shot myself.”

You tilt your head, studying him. “That’s impressive. Most people wouldn’t even bother.”

He laughs, leaning back in his chair. “Yeah, well, desperation’s a hell of a motivator. I’ll probably break it even more, knowing my luck.”

You smile, relaxing a little. He’s not what you expected. Not at all.

The rain picks up outside, a steady drumming against the windows. Thunder rumbles in the distance, and you glance at the clock, realizing how much time has passed.

“Great,” you mutter, more to yourself than anyone. “Didn’t bring an umbrella.”

“Same here,” Steve says, glancing at the rain. Then, as if on cue, he looks back at you with an idea forming on his face. “Hey, I could give you a ride. You know, if you don’t mind waiting for me to figure out my car situation first.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “You’d do that?”

“Yeah, why not?” He grins, boyish and easy. “Can’t let you walk home in this.”

Your instinct is to say no. After all, you’re you—curvy, artsy, and quieter than most—and he’s Steve Harrington. You’ve never been the type to attract someone like him. But he’s offering, and the sincerity in his voice makes you pause.

“Okay,” you say finally. “Thanks.”

Somehow, Steve’s car starts without much trouble. The leather seat creaks under you as you settle in, acutely aware of how much space you take up compared to his lanky frame. He doesn’t seem to notice, though.

“So,” he says as he pulls onto the road, “what’s the mural gonna be?”

You explain your vision—a vibrant scene of local nature, full of life and color. You talk about wanting to inspire the kids who play at the park, giving them something to look at that feels magical.

“That’s really cool,” he says, his voice full of genuine admiration. “If you ever need help, let me know. I’m not great with art, but I can hold a paintbrush.”

You laugh softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

The conversation flows easily after that, and by the time he pulls up to your apartment, you’ve forgotten to feel awkward.

“Thanks for the ride,” you say, turning to him with a small smile. “And for not making it weird.”

He grins, leaning one arm against the steering wheel. “Weird? Me? Never.”

You laugh again, feeling a warmth that has nothing to do with the heater. As you step out of the car, he calls after you.

“Hey,” he says, his voice softer. “If you ever want to hang out—or need more help with the mural—just let me know, okay?”

You nod, your cheeks warm despite the chilly rain. “I will. Thanks, Steve.”

As you walk up to your building, you can’t help but smile to yourself. Maybe today wasn’t so gray after all.

[mrsknowitallll]

All I Want Is You

(Terry richmond x Black Plus size reader, Lawyer/Law firm AU)

Summary - Terry’s had his eyes on you for a while, like predator to prey, watching, waiting to strike. The only problem was that you were slippery, hard to get a hold of, he was gonna have to work extra hard to catch you.

Warning: Mentions of murder, obsessive/possessive behavior, i think that’s it?

A/N - Be easy on ya girl this my first fic 😭 also this is a series lets gooo 🥳

He watched you intently as you shrank, minimizing yourself to occupy as little space as possible, your head down, nose deep in your paper work.

It was something you did often, stayed out of other’s way, kept your head down, avoided confrontation in order not to step on people’s toes, refrained from boasting about your success, opting to diminish your own achievements instead in order to not make others feel bad.

But you had every right to brag, you were the best lawyer in that entire fucking firm, you should be walking with your head held high, not cowering behind your cubicle, letting these people think they were above you when they were far beneath.

Terry couldn’t stand how others treated you, their condescending tones when they addressed you, nasty comments about you and your appearance disguised as jokes or poking fun.

If he had it his way all of these motherfuckers would be fired and probably six feet under.

But he couldn’t do that just yet, not until he made his way to the top as head, then you’d live a cushy life, start being respected, treated like you deserved.

That is if you’d let him.

Three years.

Three years he’s worked alongside you at the firm, three years he’s been trying to get you to go out with him, trying to convince you to be his.

At first he thought you were oblivious to his advances, your cluelessness leaving his head spinning but he quickly realized that you were just playing dumb. You knew very well that he was flirting, you just weren’t interested.

That kept him up for a few nights, trying to wrap his head around why you didn’t want him, why his feelings weren’t reciprocated.

He confronted you about it one day, cornering you in the break room.

“Morning” He greeted, large frame blocking the doorway.

“Oh goodmorning Mr. Richmond.” You shot him a small smile before turning back to the coffee pot, pouring yourself a cup full.

You added your fixings, a little sugar, a little cream, stirring it up with a spoon and bringing it to your mouth to taste.

Perfect.

You grabbed the cup beginning to make your exit but stopped in your tracks, surprised to see Terry still standing there with no sign of moving.

“Terry is everything alright?” You questioned, concern lacing your features.

He smiled a little at your use of his first name.

The first time you used it was about a year and a half ago when you worked on your very first joint case together.

It was a late night, the office was pretty much empty aside from the two of you still hard at work.

That particular case was a rough one, your client had mounds of evidence stacked against him but despite that he still stressed that he was innocent.

Terry didn’t know why but for some reason he believed the man, he just had a gut feeling and so did you.

Everyone else had no interest in defending a man who was obviously guilty so the case was left to the two of you.

That night you were hours in trying to find something, anything to point towards the man’s innocence, but attempt after attempt had failed, the two of you had gone over the case dozens of times but nothing stuck out and the frustration was starting to overflow for Terry.

“Maybe he’s not innocent, not like we thought he was. I mean this is pretty hard evidence, he was seen running out of the building shortly after gunshots went off inside, the gun is registered in his name, had his fingerprints all over it right next to the body at the scene, not only that but he was seen having a heated discussion with the victim outside of a bar just down the street 5 hours earlier there’s no way all of this is a coincidence, we’re in way over our heads.” He sighed running his hands down his face.

“I didn’t know you were one to give up so easily, you sure don’t seem like it.” You spoke.

“What?” He glanced up at you, tired eyes locking with yours.

You’re just as tired as him, your blazer falling lazily off your shoulders, glasses sliding down your nose, hair a little frizzy but despite all that you still had that look in your eyes, determination. You intended to see it through to the end.

“Look, we both had the same feeling about this, something isn’t right, our guts told us that and i don’t know about you but when my gut tells me something i listen, no matter how many doubts my mind may have.” You started.

He clenched his jaw, slightly agitated by your stubbornness but he kept his mouth shut as you continued.

“Maybe we missed something, maybe we just need to go home, get some rest and look at this again tomorrow with fresh eyes” You huffed.

“Y/n there’s nothing more to see, everything points to this guy being a killer, maybe just maybe our guts were wrong, it happens sometimes.” He sat up in his chair.

“Maybe he is but if there is even a slim chance that he isn’t and we didn’t do our best, our job, our duty to take a closer look at the details of this case to ensure that we have the right guy then we’ve failed not only him but his family, his daughters, his wife. I don’t know about you Terry but i don’t wanna be responsible for convicting an innocent man, for snatching a father away from his children, a husband away from his wife, it’d keep me up at night.” You sighed heavily, eyes pleading.

His gaze found yours again, your dark brown eyes begging, your puffy lips tugged downward into a frown, the way his name rolled off of your tongue.

“Terry.”

He knew then and there he’d move mountains to keep you satisfied, to make you happy.

“Okay, we’ll try again tomorrow.” He nodded.

He chuckled as your face broke out into a grin.

“See you tomorrow Mr. Richmond.” You waved at him before exiting.

“Tomorrow.” He bit his lip.

“Why won’t you go out with me?” He glanced down at you.

“What? What are you talking about?” You raised a brow.

“Please Y/n enough with the games. Are you not attracted to me? Am i not your type? What is it?” He took a step forward.

“Terry…” You trailed off, eyes casting downward.

“It’s not that you’re unattractive, it’s nothing like that i’m just not… i’m not looking for anything serious right now, anything at all actually.” You whispered.

He deflated slightly, arms falling at his sides.

“I see, may i ask why?” His eyes searched yours.

“It’s too much to explain.” You bit your lip nervously.

He stepped back allowing you to pass.

You looked at him one last time, pity written all over your face.

He just smiled a tight lip smile at you and you wandered off, back toward your desk.

He clenched his jaw, eyes following you, burning holes into your back as you walked.

You said you didn’t peg him as the type to give up so easily and you were right, so you had to have known that this wasn’t over.

Right?

[hotchs-big-hands]

The Slaughterhouse

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 4

Aaron Hotchner x plus-size fem!reader

8.1k words

Minors dni please

Warning(s): VERY DARK, injury detail, medical descriptions, hospitals, gore, injury, blood, extreme angst, sort-of enemies to lovers, flashbacks, reader and Aaron be going THROUGH IT

Please heed the warnings, although the worst of it is over it's still a heavy series.

An escalating string of gruesomely murdered fat women begin to stack up with no end in sight. What started as an unfortunate routine case for the BAU team, takes a disturbing turn as you become entangled in the unsub's web, danger approaching closer and closer. It's only a matter of time before it's too late to bring the madness to an end.

BESTIES I'M FINALLY BACK WITH THIS SERIES OMG IT'S BEEN TOO LONG. I really hope people enjoy, there's still one more part after this which I hope to work on soon!!! Thank you for sticking by me!

Another hour passed by. Another wave of agony tore through Aaron Hotchner. It was like limbo. Everything was still, unable to move and continue on. It was only the intense pain in his chest that reminded him he was actually alive, but his very soul- his heart- was torn away the moment those ambulance doors closed behind you. He barely remembered much after that, although he was wearing different clothes now. A navy tee shirt under a zip-up black hoodie. Some sweatpants. Even his shoes were not his original ones. What he wore before was gone, the fibres so entwined with your blood they were completely unsalvageable.

All he could do was stare at the floor, head hanging low as he propped his arms up on his knees. Sometimes the spotted linoleum floor would blur into a haze of grey and tears would drop onto his clasped together hands. He'd stopped screaming hours ago, whenever that was. And now he could feel how raw his throat was whenever he swallowed, which caused him to press his lips together tightly to prevent a sob from bubbling over. A part of him knew he wasn't alone in the waiting room, but at this point he really didn't care. He said nothing whenever anyone else in the room tried to talk to him, ask him if he needed anything, to just say something. What was the point? You weren't there.

There was a sigh.

“Aaron, you need to drink something. You'll become dehydrated like this.” He heard Rossi’s voice, but he didn't respond. “(Y/n) wouldn't want you to close yourself off like this and not take care of yourself.”

This time, Aaron sat bolt upright and sneered.

“Don't speak on behalf of her. You have no idea what she would have wanted.” He snapped, glaring at the older man. It was rare for Rossi to lose his calm and carefree self, but now he was staring the unit chief down, nostrils flaring and his hands curling into tight fists.

“Actually, I do know. Do you seriously think she doesn't care about your wellbeing, huh? You think she wants you to torture yourself, to shut down and give up? Come on, you know deep down that's not the case at all.” His voice was sharp, cutting through the haze that had shrouded Aaron.

No one in the room moved, staring at the altercation between the two oldest members of the team with bated breaths.

Aaron couldn't speak, opening his mouth and closing it over and over. Why should he be kind to himself? He got you into this mess, he made the decision to close himself off from you in an attempt to put a stop to the blooming feelings he’d immediately developed for you when you first walked through the doors for your interview. He couldn't have you, Strauss would have his head triumphantly or, far worse, she would terminate you and force you to leave the BAU in shame. He was damned from the start, and by trying to keep you from being damned too he had pushed you straight into the grasp of a monster. He gritted his teeth as fresh tears pooled in his deep, brown eyes and his shoulders slumped defeatedly.

There was a knock at the door.

Before anyone could say or do anything, Aaron shot up and strided across the room to pull the door open. An unfamiliar medical practitioner stood in the doorway patiently, not even phased by the rapidness of the door swinging open. They cleared their throat.

“May I come in? I want to discuss Miss (L/n)’s condition with you all.”

Aaron moved to the side wordlessly, allowing them to walk in and he closed the door quietly. He tucked his right arm under the other whilst his left hand curled into a soft fist, running his thumb over the second knuckle of each of the fingers.

Everyone waited. The doctor shoved their hands into their pockets and their eyes flicked from one face to the next.

“To put your minds at ease, she's alive and stable.” They began. Alive? You were alive?? Aaron’s chest heaved with relief. “However, she lost a considerable amount of blood from the injury and while we were stitching the different layers back together. We are giving her a transfusion, and while we did manage to resuscitate her as quickly as we could each time she coded, we will have to wait until she is brought back around from the induced coma she's in to see if there's any lasting neurological issues.”

“Can we see her?” Spencer croaked, eyes glassy as he studied doctor. They smiled apologetically.

“For now it would be best if there's only one visitor, just in case.”

All eyes were on Aaron then, and he swallowed.

“I don't..”

“Go. You need to go to her.” Emily said softly. There was a mutual sound of agreement and it made his face scrunch up a little as a few tears rolled down his face. With a choked out ‘thank you’, Aaron followed the doctor out of the waiting room and down the corridor. They stopped at a private recovery room, the last coherent thing he had demanded for you to have, and he drew in a shaky breath.

“Here we are. I'll give you some privacy.” He heard the doctor say and he shakily reached for the door handle, turned it and pushed it open.

“Oh…” his voice cracked and he stepped into the room, closing the door behind him and shutting out the chaos of the outside world.

Laying still looking ashen on the crisp white bed sheets, was you. You were connected to several machines, at least one of them beeping periodically and accompanying the only other sign you were alive; the soft rise and fall of your diaphragm. You looked so frail, so easily shattered by the smallest touch. As he tentatively stepped closer he spotted your injured thigh sticking out from under the sheet with a large dressing covering it. He swallowed back a sob and stopped at your bedside. He didn't know what to say. And so he reached down and took hold of your hand, the one without an intravenous line in it, and cradled it in his own. The tips of your fingers were a little cold.

“God… I'm so, so sorry, sweetheart. I-” Aaron whimpered when he felt tears dribble down his chin and drip onto his hoodie. “This is all my fault.”

He wanted you to open your eyes, much like people always did in movies and TV shows, to reassure him that it was okay; you were okay. But he was met with the beeps of the monitoring machines helping you to breathe in your coma. He fucking hated this.

Carefully, he grazed his thumb over the back of your hand and gazed at your peaceful face. He would never forget the look on your face back in that wretched slaughterhouse. The fear, the absolute agony… He began to cry again.

“I-I-, fuck! I do like you, okay? I know I've done the worst job at showing this. No, I did it intentionally. I-” he scrunched his eyes shut and he breathed shakily. “I have feelings for you, feelings I shouldn't have as your boss and yet I have always had them. I thought I was…. I thought if I kept you at a distance it would save you from getting into trouble with Strauss.” He said softly.

As gently as he could, Aaron lifted your hand up, meeting it half way by bending down, and pressed a soft kiss to the back of it.

“I'll make this right, okay? I need you to rest and recover, sweetheart. And then I'm going to do whatever I can to make it up to you.”

For a while he stood beside you, admiring your beauty. Even in the fragile state you were in, you were beautiful. He'd always known and thought you were beautiful.

And then the moment he dreaded came to be when he heard a knock on the door behind him. His lower lip wobbled and he squeezed your hand a little, desperately.

“Mr Hotchner? I'm very sorry, but visiting hours across the hospital just ended.” It was a different voice this time, a feminine voice. He didn't pull his eyes away from your unconscious form.

“I want to stay. Please.”

“I-”

He finally turned his head to the doorway and he sniffled sharply.

“Please, I need to- I can't leave her.”

He didn't care if the nurse pitied him, nothing mattered except staying with you now.

She nodded slightly.

“Alright, I'll ask someone to bring a cot in for you.” She said and closed the door behind her as she left. Aaron turned back to you and pressed another kiss to the back of your hand, but this time his mouth lingered for a little longer.

At first there were shadows. Simultaneously the blur was both burningly bright and too dull to make out refined shapes. Then came the sound. It was garbled, an indecipherable mess until one sound cut through the rest.

A beep. A constant, irritating beep. It grew faster when frustration swelled through this place of limbo, only to fade into the void when unconsciousness cloaked everything once more.

It was a continuous dance between mild awareness and nothingness, feeling infinite and tiring and confusing. There was no such thing as time. It didn't exist in this place.

Then finally, finally everything began to slide into place, piece by piece.

And yet, that fucking beeping would not stop.

Your eyelids slightly scrunched tightly; the beep, the light that was now trying to force it's way through the cracks hurt your brain. Angered you. You wanted to yell.

A hiss escaped you, a low noise that coiled warm air back over your face. What the fuck..?

“Oh my god.” Someone spoke. Someone was there. You wanted to reach out to them, to tell them to switch off whatever was beeping incessantly at you. But your body felt like stone, too sluggish to move.

Now, you realised something was on your face. Constricting your mouth and nose. You tried to reach up and push off whatever it was but all you could manage was a twitch of your finger. Slowly though, your sense of awareness returned to you and mustering all your strength you finally began to open your eyes.

The world was blindingly bright. It burned and you snapped your eyes shut again.

“....hh…” you breathed against the restriction on your face; you needed it off as soon as possible.

“She’s doing her best, just give her a moment.”

You forced your eyes to stay open this time, finding the world to be a blur of colours melting together.

“C… s….”

A blur of dark colours filled her vision, blocking the overhead light from hurting so much.

“What was that? Try saying it again.” Definitely a familiar woman's voice. You blinked a few times to try clearing your vision but it didn't work.

“Can't see… blurry….”

The blur moved slightly.

“Oh, has anyone got some tissues? Her eyes are full of gunk.”

There was movement in your peripheral and then something soft pressed lightly down on your eyelids.

“I'm going to clean your eyes, okay? Just try to stay relaxed.” The voice said. The tissue felt ticklish on your skin and your face twitched whenever it brushed over a particularly sensitive area. Eventually, you were able to make out proper shapes, albeit still slightly blurry but enough to tell what it or who it was.

“E-Emily?” You rasped, throat as raw as sandpaper. It made you cough, only adding to the pain.

“Easy now, your throat is gonna be sore.” Your dear, dark haired friend Emily murmured. “You want some water?”

You nodded slightly, but it was enough for her to understand. She turned her head to address someone else in the room, and you struggled to see who else was there.

“You lift the mask, I'll bring the straw to her mouth.” Her eyes flicked back to you and she smiled gently.

“JJ’s gonna lift the mask up now, okay? Just hold still.”

On your other side JJ approached and beamed down at you, her eyes shining with tears.

“Hey.” She managed to choke out at the same time as her fingers carefully pried the mask off your face. Ah, so it was an oxygen mask then.

Emily pressed the straw to your lips and you accepted it gratefully, slowly sipping mouthfuls of the cool water. God, in that moment it was the most delicious and refreshing thing you'd ever had. You could only have a bit at a time, too big of a gulp hurt your throat, but the smaller sips were manageable. With the added hydration to your body you were able to clear your throat enough to speak a bit better.

“P-please help me sit up…” you whispered.

Emily smoothed her hand over your forehead comfortingly as her smile turned more apologetic.

“Sorry, (Y/n). Gotta wait for the medical staff. Morgan and Reid went to go fetch them.”

You nodded in understanding and closed your eyes for a moment.

“Wh…where's…”

“Ah! Miss (L/n)! It's so nice to see you awake.” A clear, cheery voice said. Your eyes opened again and you were met with the sight of an older woman, most likely in her late forties dressed in a nurse’s uniform standing at the foot of your bed. “My name is Kelly! How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.” Emily choked, bug-eyed along with JJ and you could have sworn you heard Derek chuckle nearby. You winced a little. “Sorry, that was rude.”

Luckily, Kelly laughed lightly and shook her head.

“No you're fine, sounds about right. Do you know where you are, Miss (L/n)?”

Your brows furrowed slightly as you tried to recall anything from before.

“I know I’m in a hospital, but that’s all.”

The nurse nodded and came over to you to take your vitals. Emily and JJ stepped back out of the way but they kept their eyes on you, the other members of the team, minus one came to stand nearby.

“Are you in any pain?” Kelly asked you as she pulled the blood pressure monitor over to your bedside and carefully applied the cuff around your upper arm, then pressed the button to start the cycle off. You sighed.

“I…I don’t think so.”

“You don’t think so?” She raised her brow at you. Whilst she continued making observations, making a note of them as she went.

“I haven’t moved so far, so I’m okay.”

“We’ll help you sit up if you’d like in a moment. I’ll ask again after that.”

Your eyes drifted around the room with every passing moment bringing out the clarity of everything. Where…where was he?

The machine beeped to signify the cycle was complete and the tight grip of the cuff released, letting you relax better. Kelly took note of it and smiled at you.

“Well, so far I have no worries about your condition aside from some confusion, which is understandable. But let’s try and sit you up now.” She turned to the others then. “Do any of you want to help? I’ll tell you where to hold her and when to lift.”

Derek approached your bedside with his usual charismatic grin that even in the state you were in right now, you couldn’t help but smile in response.

“C’mon, sugar. Let’s get you upright and comfy.”

The nurse made quick work of guiding him where to hold you, and when she took hold of your other side she turned her attention to you.

“This may cause your stitches to feel like they are being pulled when we move you now, okay? We’ll be as swift as possible though and I’ll assess what to do next, depending on how it goes. Does that sound okay?”

You nodded, just wanting it to be over with.

“Okay… In three, we are going to lift her upper body up and pull her back. Someone please grab the pillows and hold them further up to support her back.”

Emily rushed over and smiled at you reassuringly, and at the count of three you were hauled upwards and adjusted to sit upright.

Oh, how your thigh screamed pure pain. It was only when you noticed the horrified expressions on your friends’ faces that you realised you had screamed. But in that moment you hardly cared, curling over in agony as tears immediately sprung up in your eyes. The nurse sprung into action immediately, pressing the support button and ushering everyone away from the bedside.

It was like fire, like knives, like claws. Tearing and ripping and destroying the nerves on the entire left side of your body. You couldn't stop crying, wailing when hands reached at you to stop your thrashing. And then it was as though a switch was flipped and you calmed, laid still and Kelly appeared into view.

“We've injected a sedative in you to help you relax and we'll give you some strong pain relief now.” She said and took hold of your hand gently. “You may feel sleepy though, is that okay?”

All you could do was nod as stray tears dribbled down the sides of your face and soaked into the pillow below your head.

There was a moment longer of the blinding pain, then it slowly began to ease a little and your eyes felt a little droopy. You weren't sure what was going on for a while, only hearing snippets of conversation further away from your bed which made your brows furrow.

“...not leaving until we at least keep her updated...”

“...staying here with her until she's ready…”

Your eyes flicked to the side when you spotted the oldest member of the team sidling over, and he laid his hand on the side of your head carefully. He offered a tired smile.

“Hey kid.”

Your lower lip wobbled.

“It was bad, wasn't it? Whatever happened.” You croaked. The man leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead and sighed.

“Do you remember anything at all?”

You scrunched up your brows as you tried to remember back. The dull ache in your thigh brought it all to the forefront of your mind and your chest heaved with a quiet sob.

“What the fuck,” you cried softly as you gazed up at Rossi tearfully. The man brushed his hand over your head and allowed you to grab onto his arm for comfort as you let out everything you were feeling.

“I know. You’re gonna be okay, kid.” he soothed. You couldn’t remember it all, only flashes. But it was enough to leave you feeling like you had been shattered into a thousand pieces.

At one point Rossi produced a handkerchief for you to use, refusing when you tried to give it back instead of using it. And so you cleared your face with it, breathing deeply in and out to calm yourself down again. When you finally reached a point where you wouldn’t immediately break down again you noted the nurse was gone and your friends stood around your bed.

“We asked for a little more time, and one of us is gonna stay overnight with you.” you heard Derek explain but you sniffled as your eyes darted from face to the next.

“Wh…where is he? Where’s Hotch?”

There was a shared glance; the absence of the BAU’s leader was uncomfortably prominent. Rossi spoke again.

“Strauss called him in. Actually, he had been staying here up until just a day ago.”

Huh?

“What…?”

You were confused.

“Yeah, slept in the little bed over there since you came out of surgery.” Spencer said. But it didn’t make sense to you.

“W-why? That’s-”

Emily raised her brow at you as she folded her arms across her chest.

“That’s what?”

“Weird as hell.” You finished, frowning as your eyes flitted to the bed that lay closer to the ground than the one you were in. He had stayed there?

“Why’s that, sugar?” Derek asked you and you blanched.

“Because he’s Hotch, duh.” Your eyes drifted down to your hands that were now curled into fists in front of you. “Probably was waiting around for me to wake up to tell me off for being reckless.” You muttered dully. The room fell quiet then, aside from that maddening beep.

“You really don’t remember much from what happened, do you?”

Your eyes flicked to JJ, who appeared almost distraught.

“Not really. I-I take it I’m forgetting something important.”

“We should let it wait for now. It isn’t a good idea to overwhelm you with too much information.” Rossi cut in, sending a pointed look to the others. Well, you certainly didn't like that. You swallowed thickly.

“I wanna know what happened.”

Rossi eyed you.

“Not right now. Your priority is resting and recovering.” He said more firmly. You slumped slightly in defeat; there was no point in crossing him. Tiredness washed over you and you sighed, realising you were going to be recovering for a while. Derek took hold of your hand and gave it a squeeze.

“Hey, babygirl’s gonna video call you tomorrow, she’s missed you so much and been crying on the phone to me about it all.” He said, then chuckled. “But don’t tell her I told you that part.” He then winked and you scoffed tiredly.

“I’ve missed her, too.”

Day by day you slowly recovered, getting to the point of using crutches to move around a little bit, and for a week a different member of the team stayed with you overnight in the hospital- something you were very grateful for with the nightmares that had begun to tear through your sleep. But as life goes, they couldn't stay forever and eventually the call came in to summon them all back to Quantico.

“I don't like the idea of leaving you here alone.” Emily said after the text came through. It had been her turn that night to stay with you. You shrugged.

“Criminals aren't going to stop just because we're one member down, Em.”

“I know, but… We're all so worried about you. You- you didn't see what we witnessed when we found you.” She trailed off and you could see her fighting off the urge to cry. You reached out and took her hand gently, rubbing your thumb over the back of it.

“Hey… I'm-I’m okay, yeah? I'm in safe hands. And before you know it I'll be back in town.” you tried to smile at her, which she appreciated but could barely return the gesture.

It had been a week since then, and finally you were being discharged. The idea was to have whoever was available from the team to fly back over to you and stay with you in a hotel for a few days, just to be sure all was stable, then return to the home state together. You had no idea who it would be though, it was highly dependent on the nature of whatever case the team was on at the time.

You sat waiting, perched on the edge of the hospital bed you'd been living in for the past while now, when there was a knock on your room door. You shifted on the bed carefully, keeping your thigh secure as you moved, then called out.

“Come in!”

There was a pause, then the handle turned and the door pushed in. Your breath caught in your throat. Hotch stood in the doorway, just as breathtaking as ever wearing some dark jeans and a dark blue button down shirt underneath a casual jacket. Cautiously, he stepped into the room.

“Hey, (Y/n).” He said. Your hand grabbed the untidy bedsheet tightly.

He had referred to you by your first name.

“S-sir.”

His face twisted into an expression you hadn't seen on him before for a split moment, then it returned to his normal stoicness. He cautiously approached the bed, stuffing his hands into his pockets and his eyes darted around the room. Was he nervous? Why?

“I'm taking you to the hotel, then home.”

You nodded. What were you to say to him? You sniffled loudly.

“I… I’m sorry for what happened, sir. I hope there wasn't too much paperwork.” You mumbled. Hotch looked at you, bewildered.

“What? You don't need to worry about that.”

“But-”

“Please don't stress yourself out over it. I've handled it. Everything is fine.” He cut you off gently. What in the fuck was happening? You expected to be reprimanded, to lose your job, for him to be cold and angry at you. But this?

You sighed gently and the nurse entered the room with your discharge paperwork. She smiled sweetly at the both of you.

“Ah, I see your boyfriend was able to return to take you home!”

The both of you tensed up as your eyes flicked to one another, then as Hotch opened his mouth to speak you beat him to it.

“Oh no, he's not my boyfriend. He's my boss.” You said quickly, returning your gaze to the nurse and immediately a look of horror crossed her face.

“Oh my gosh, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to assume.” She handed over the paperwork to you and gave you an awkward smile. “Here's your paperwork, I'm going to get you a wheelchair to take you downstairs, then you can continue on your crutches.”

You nodded and thanked her, then sat quietly avoiding looking at the man opposite you. He shifted from one foot to another whilst you messed with the crutches propped against the side of your bed.

“I wanted to get back sooner instead of making you stay here alone.” You heard Hotch say after a moment. You lifted your head slightly to look at him. The expression on his face struck you, you'd never seen such remorse from him before. Well, at least not aimed at you. You shrugged.

“That's how it goes in this line of work.”

“No, it really doesn’t.”

You stared at him; your brow twitched.

“I…”

The nurse returned then with a wheelchair and the both of you turned your attention to her approaching figure.

“Here we are! Right, let’s get you into the wheelchair now.” The nurse glanced at Hotch. “Are you able to help?” She asked, more cautious this time. He nodded.

“Of course, yes. Tell me what you need me to do.” he responded sincerely. She eyed him for a moment longer, then nodded once.

“We are going to support her from under her armpits and lift her up to stand after I lower the bed.”

She took hold of the remote that controlled the hydraulics of the bed and lowered it to the correct level for you to stand. The both of them prepared to help you then, slinking an arm under your pit and round your back securely. While you were still wary of Hotch, confused by his sudden change of heart, you still had feelings for him and the sensation of his arm around you was something you’d had craved for so, so long. And as you pushed up off the bed to stand you winced at the sharp pain in your thigh, burying your face in Hotch’s chest as you whimpered.

“Easy, you’re okay.” you heard him say softly, his thumb rubbing against your back soothingly.

He didn't let go, not even when you were finally sitting in the wheelchair. Instead moving his hand to your arm comfortingly. The nurse didn't question it.

“Alright, I have a got you your prescription of pain medication here, I'm putting it on top of your discharge papers. You're able to leave when you're ready now, Miss (L/n).” She said and you nodded tiredly.

“Thank you…”

She smiled and moved to the side to allow Hotch to wheel you out.

“You take care now, okay? Call us if there's anything you need.”

You nodded at her and offered a weak smile in return, then Aaron began to wheel you out of the room. You lost track of the many winding corridors you travelled down to reach the exit, but soon you were outside and you breathed in deeply when the air hit your face.

“God… you forget how nice it is when you go outside.” you said softly. Aaron hummed and directed the wheelchair to the car he must have hired- much lower to the ground than an SUV, that you were worried would have been your mode of transport. He locked the wheels in place and took hold of your crutches with one hand while the other hooked around your back to help you stand.

“Squeeze as tight as you need to onto me.” You heard him say, then when you were ready to try you pushed up from the chair painfully, wincing and once again burying your face against his chest.

“F-fuck- hurts-”

“I know, swe- (Y/n), I know. You're doing very well.” Aaron murmured as he passed you your crutches. You thanked him and rested your weight on them, taking it off your poor leg instead. He pushed the chair out of the way and opened the passenger door open for you and helped you lower down onto the chair slowly. It was all so painful still, straining your wound site and sending sparks of pain up and down the side of your body. By the time you were belted in you were exhausted.

Hotch nudged the brakes off the wheelchair and grabbed the handles, then turned to you.

“I'm going to take the chair back. I won't be long, okay?”

You nodded and he bumped the car door with his hip to close it for you. You sighed softly and settled back into the chair. You weren't so sure what to think of feel right now.

“I'm going to order food in, what would you wanna eat?” Hotch asked you hours later. You were sitting up on one of the beds in the twin room you were sharing with him now. It was a different hotel to the one you'd stayed in for the case, more luxurious and you were on a floor much higher than the room you had been staying in at the other hotel.

You sighed softly.

“I'm not really sure. What places are there available in the area?”

The man crossed the room to you and held out his phone, showing the food delivery app to you.

“I think it might actually be easier if you take a look than me reading them out. There's quite a lot.” He said with a barely there smile. He… It made your stomach feel funny and you looked away quickly, taking the phone off him with a quiet ‘thanks’.

“You have any preferences?” You glanced in his general direction, keeping your eyes away from his face.

“I will find something on the menu wherever you choose. Don't worry about it.”

“Alright then…”

You heard Hotch sigh and he moved to sit on his bed, perching on the edge facing you.

“Is something wrong?” He questioned you. You continued scrolling.

“I'm tired and in pain. That's all.” You knew you sounded unconvincing.

“Please don't lie to me.”

You finally turned your head and looked at him, lips pulled downward.

“Well then I don't want to talk about it. Please leave it alone, sir.”

He stared at you and his brows began to furrow deeply. His jaw clenched slightly.

“(Y/n). When I thought you were going to die, I-” He cut himself off, swallowing thickly and his left hand curled into a fist and his thumb began to stroke across his second knuckles. “I was fucking terrified. Seeing you like that, I don't think I'll be able to forget it.”

You stared wide eyed at him for a moment in silence. You didn't expect this, didn't think he cared this much. In the artificial light of the room you could spy the glint of tears threatening to spill from his sad, brown eyes.

“S-sir… I-I didn't realise you felt so strongly about it.”

He sniffled and lifted his hand to wipe his eyes with his thumb and fingers. You bit your lip, trying to stop it from trembling.

“That's also my fault. I kept pushing you away and this is what happened as a result.” He mumbled. The room was quiet for a while, the hum of the AC filled the silence as you stared at the man before you. Far gone was the person you'd come to expect and were used to, the closed off and cold unit chief who would barely do so much as stiffly discuss work with you when he needed to, in his place was a man filled with regrets, with concern and an emotion you couldn’t recognise. Or at least, you didn’t want to. For all you knew you’d be misinterpreting things and your heart just couldn’t take it.

You sighed.

“What happened? I only remember parts, the others won’t budge when I ask them.” You finally settled on, hoping he would be the one to bring you from solitude. He shifted on his bed and you opened your mouth to push for answers, when he spoke.

“The day you were kidnapped, we found another victim’s body- Carla Reynolds- who you’d spoken to a few days prior. Your FBI badge was with the body and- and you blamed yourself.” He paused, letting the words sink in. You remembered her, and you remembered the state her corpse was in when you visited the body dumping site. Hotch noted the tremble of your hands and his brows creased. “If you need me to stop…”

“No. No, I- I need to remember.” You cut him off and curled your hands into fists. He was quiet for a moment, then nodded.

“You- you fell into a dark place of blaming yourself. You tried to remember faces from the day you interviewed her but you couldn’t. Her parents were let in and they confronted you when you were by yourself. I-“ he clenched his hands into fists and dropped his gaze. “I should have said something then, did something. And when you snuck out of our hotel room with the car keys from my jacket that night? My heart sank.”

Oh… it was coming back to you now. Your lower lip trembled.

“He… he had a knife at my back when you called me. That’s why I, um, ended the call.”

“(Y/n)…”

You dipped your head and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“I’m sorry for the stress and grief I put you all through, I just… I didn’t think straight at all. I- I’ll understand if I do lose my job based on my actions during this case.” You mumbled and you clenched your jaw in an attempt to stop yourself from crying. You heard Aaron sigh, then a moment later the mattress dipped under his weight as he sat down beside you.

“Hey, I have no plans on doing such a thing. You’re a valuable member of the team and terminating you would be not only a poor decision, but also hypocritical.” He closed his eyes for a moment and laid his palm against his forehead, breathing deeply. “I think everyone on the team has done something reckless, including myself. And yet we’re all still here in the team.”

He could see you were not entirely convinced from the way you fussed with the hem of your shirt and the wrinkle of your nose. But you were tired and hungry and just wanted to sleep. And so you picked his phone up from where you’d set it down beside you when you curled up earlier, and chose a random restaurant to order from and picked something. You offered his phone back to Hotch and avoided his gaze.

“I chose something. It’s your turn to now.”

His fingers barely brushed against yours as he reluctantly took the phone back and you gritted your teeth a little, trying hard not to show a response to the touch. Hotch sighed again, but didn’t push the unresolved conversation for he could see the exhaustion weighing in on you. You knew he wouldn’t let it slide forever, though.

Little by little, you began letting your guard drop slightly around Hotch. While you still felt uncertain about him, questioning if he really had cared about you all this time, hearing his soft voice as he checked in on you at your apartment and brought you groceries to cook meals for the week for you. It was, frankly, weird. But not an unpleasant weird. It had your feelings for the man in turmoil though, what should you be feeling towards him, if it was perhaps something to still cling onto.

There was always a certain look in his eyes whenever he visited you; a sadness, the look as though he had much to say but not knowing how to, or if he even should say. You never brought it up.

The others would stop by as well, especially Penelope with her being in the area all the time. Sometimes they’d all visit at the same time, having a group dinner and helping you around the apartment- even when you at first protested. Thinking back on it, you weren’t so sure why you were so reluctant to let your friends help you. They’d been so supportive and caring, and you felt as though you were close to being back on your feet in a way. Nightmares plagued you though, tearing through the night mercilessly and leaving you more exhausted than you’d started out. You had yet to make any of them aware of it, not quite ready to talk to them about what you experienced. Sooner or later you would have to if you wanted to return to work smoothly.

It was a few months later when things took a turn. After another round of extensive physical therapy and talking to a psychiatrist, Aaron had brought you back home- as he always did after such appointments if he could- to make sure you were okay. You never asked him to attend any of them, he had took it upon himself to see to it if he wasn’t away with another case. Part of you was curious as to why, but decided against asking. It was… nice having him care about you like this.

He was finishing up washing the dishes (despite your protests) after the two of you had shared a meal again when your phone began to ring. You picked it up and raised a brow at the number; it wasn’t one in your contacts. The area code was for Virginia though and you decided to answer it.

“I’m gonna take this call, s-Aaron.” You murmured softly to him and he nodded.

You swiped to answer and held the phone to your ear as you walked through to the living room.

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is Section Chief Erin Strauss. Is this (Y/n) I’m speaking to?”

A chill shivered through you. What on earth was she calling you for?!

“A-um yes! It is, yes. Uh, how can I help you, ma’am?” You answered quickly.

“Upon your return to work tomorrow, I would like you to report to my office first thing. Is that understood?”

That wasn’t good.

“Y-yes, ma’am. I can do that. Is that all?”

“Yes that is all. I hope you have been recovering well, agent (L/n). I’ll see you tomorrow, good bye.”

The line disconnected before you could say anything else and for a moment you merely stood rooted in place.

“(Y/n)?” You heard from behind you, snapping you out of your trance. Turning to face Aaron, you blinked at him. You noted the front of his shirt had damp patches from where the water in the sink had splashed onto him as he washed up.

“Mm?”

“Who was that on the phone?”

You were quiet, debating what to say to him. His brows creased as he stepped closer, concerned about the extending silence.

“You don’t have to tell me, but I just want to make sure you’re-“

“Strauss!” You blurted, stopping Aaron in his tracks. “It- it was Strauss. Wants me to um, visit her in her office tomorrow when I arrive back.”

Aaron’s brows furrowed now as he folded his arms across his chest, covering up some of the damp splotches on his shirt.

“Do you know what she wants?”

“No… do you?”

He shook his head as you and dropped his gaze.

“Listen, tomorrow… when you return to the office. I want you to come to my office whenever you have the first opportunity to do so. I will issue you your new FBI credentials and your gun.” He said sincerely. You nodded.

“Sure, I can do that.”

“That isn’t all.” He moved closer towards you and laid a hand on your shoulder, causing your breath to catch in your throat. “I have something I need to discuss with you, it’s important. As well as that, I want you to know that if anything becomes too much; come to me and tell me. You’ve been through a hell of a lot, it’s okay if you struggle to find your footing.”

He squeezed your shoulder gently and you finally found the ability to breathe again, nodding quickly as you glanced away bashfully.

“Y-yes. I- I can do that, sir- Aaron.”

A slight smile twitched at the corner of his mouth.

“Thank you.” He said softly.

You were almost nauseous with stress and worry as you rode the elevator to the correct floor. It was hard to remember the last time you’d been here. but it wasn’t even just the nerves of returning to work after so long, you were on the way to talk to Strauss. You’d hardly slept that night after Aaron left your home, instead wracking your brain as to what she could possibly want to talk to you about. As the elevator dinged, you knew you didn’t have anymore time to think about it.

Briskly, you walked towards her office, avoiding other people who were at the office as early as you were. You hadn’t looked through the glass doors to the bullpen yet, you weren’t ready.

Standing outside Strauss’ office, you knocked and waited. Every second that ticked by felt like an eternity, then the door swung open to reveal Erin Strauss. She smiled slightly at you.

“Hello agent (L/n). Do come in.” She greeted you and held the door open wider for you.

You stepped inside and listened for the quiet click of the door shutting behind you, followed by the muffled clack of her heels on the carpet as she walked back towards her desk. She gestured to the chair opposite her desk as she settled into her seat and you quickly moved to sit down.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She knitted her fingers together in front of her and studied you for a moment.

“You must be wondering why I called you in today before you headed into the office.” She said. You cleared your throat and drew in a deep breath.

“I am, yes.”

“I want to commend you for your bravery first of all, but also offer my sympathies for what happened to you. If there is anything I can do to help you, you need only ask.”

You shifted in your seat and nodded slightly, keeping your head bowed.

“Thank you.”

“That isn’t the only thing I brought you in to discuss though.” The shift in tone caused you to stiffen and you felt a throb of pain in your thigh.

“Ma’am?” You lifted your head to look at her.

“During your… predicament, James Humphrey had a camera set up recording, just as he had done with his other victims.”

She paused for a moment whilst you processed this information, a coldness settling within your core. She continued after a moment, her face expressionless.

“While I have not watched it, I have read the transcripts and I am concerned with what I have read. So I need you to be honest with me when I ask you something: what feelings do you have for agent Hotchner?” She asked, staring at you. Your entire body froze up, eyes wide in alarm.

What?

“M-ma’am, I don’t understand… what has that got to do with-“

Strauss pulled out a piece of paper from a casefile you hadn’t originally noticed was sitting on her desk and began to read from it.

“James said ‘wearing these cute lil’ frilly panties for your boss?’ And you didn’t respond at first, which urged him to continue and you both argued about it. That is until he says ‘You seriously think no one sees it? It’s pathetic really, you being desperately in love with your boss and craving even an ounce of praise from him.’ And even mentions the two of you had been sharing a bed.”

You stared at her in horror, struggling to comprehend any of this, or even why she was bringing it up in the first place. The pain in your thigh throbbed more intensely, to which you pressed your lips together tightly. She continued, eyes scanning the paper.

“That isn’t all, agent (L/n). Later on, when the team did reach your location, you said to agent Hotchner that you have ‘always liked him more than you should’ which, added to everything that transpired beforehand, leads me to believe you have inappropriate feelings for him.” The woman concluded, returning the piece of paper to the casefile.

And all you could do was stare at her.

Was she truly more concerned about this over the fact you had been tortured and almost died?! Besides, you had no memory of-

Your heart lurched in your chest and your hand trembled slightly. It had all come flooding back, the memories of it all, the realisation you had practically confessed to Aaron Hotchner on what you believed to be your deathbed. You swallowed thickly.

“I…”

“So I will ask you again, agent (L/n). What feelings do you have for agent Hotchner?” Strauss asked impatiently now and you felt as though you were on the brink of throwing up.

“M-ma’am, I-“ you closed your eyes for a moment and exhaled. “I- I do have feelings for him. B-but I have never and will never let that interfere with mine or his job-“

“That is not what I asked.” The woman cut you off and you closed your mouth quickly. “You do know about the policies surrounding fraternizing with colleagues, especially that of your superior, yes?”

You nodded and clenched your hands into fists in your lap, fighting the urge to look away.

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Then you’ll know it is not acceptable to have feelings for agent Hotchner, your superior, nor would it be acceptable to engage in relations with him.”

Your jaw clenched.

“I understand, ma’am.” You gritted. Strauss clasped her hands together firmly as she tilted her head at you.

“You have two options: if you do not wish to lose your job, I will assign you to a new position in a different state. You will no longer have contact with agent Hotchner, nor the BAU unit as a whole.” Your chest heaved with utter shock, but she wasn’t finished. “Either that or you hand in your resignation. You will still not be able to have contact with agent Hotchner.”

All you could do was stare at her, unable to say anything. Never see Aaron again? Or talk to him? Even acknowledge his existence ever again? You felt your heart shattering to pieces, the coldness within spreading throughout your body. All of this time slowly building a positive relationship with him during your recovery, your feelings growing stronger for him, would all have been for naught. This was a worse agony than everything you’d been through, entirely heartbroken.

Strauss cleared her throat to bring your attention back to her and she handed you two envelopes.

“One of these is a form to fill in if you wish to transfer, and the other is for resigning. You have until the end of the day to make your decision, agent (L/n). That is all.”

You didn’t remember walking out of her office after that, nor finding your way back to the main precinct where the glass doors were to the bullpen. But as you heard your name being called and you turned to see Emily and the others approaching the doorway, you returned to your senses and quickly made your way into the elevator to leave. You couldn’t bear to face any of them now, especially him.

Just when we thought things were gonna get better for them too 😔😔😔😔 maybe next chapter it'll be different >:3 thank you for reading this far!! It means a lot to me 💖💖💖💖💖

[notapradagurl7]

Good Ol’ Lovin’.

Black Fem! Plus Size Reader x Elijah “Smoke” Moore.

Summary: Besides working early mornings and late nights in your mother’s store with your sister, Asia. You decided to enjoy your day off with Smoke.

A/N: I’ve finally write about Sinners, and finally saw the movie! It's amazing, Hope you enjoy. 😌 don’t forget to reblog, comment and like to support, remember don’t be afraid to send in a request they’re always open.

Warnings: sensual dancing, jealousy, life in 1932, fluff, kissing, mention of violence, a pinch mention of racism, spanking, mention of hoodoo, dirty talk, filth, fingering, mention of vampires, use of the n-word, cursing, use of AAVE, doesn't follow the flim’s timeline, possessive!Smoke, consensual intimacy.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@araybiaaa @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @blkgirlsneedlove2 @ranikyani

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereinawrites @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @luckydaye777 @that-one-anxious-mango @rose-bliss @kindofaintrovert

—————-

In the deep South, where the air is rich with the earthy scent of damp soil and the distant sound of tractors rumbling over vast fields fills the space, a wave of life and labor unfolded before you.

Your gaze was drawn irresistibly to the twins, moving in perfect synchrony as they walked side by side, each lifting heavy wooden boxes with their bare hands.

Their muscles glistened with sweat, rippling beneath their sun-kissed brown skin, while subtle grunts escaped their lips, echoing the effort of their work.

A small church painted in snow-white was nestled in the land, you could hear the choir singing psalms of worship.

There wasn't a time when the pastor always called those to come to join hands in prayer and asked those to be saved, forming a circle under the ancient oak tree that shaded half the gathering.

You only focused on your work in your mom’s store, and her greenhouse, it kept the house afloat, and bills paid, yet worry settled in her that she was going to work herself into the ground.

She whispered prayers on quiet nights, confessing fears of someday not being able to lift her hands or stand for hours on end to God. She brought you and your sister to work alongside her.

Sunlight spewed through the clean windows, and casted warm golden rays that hovered across the wooden floors. Biting your lip, distraction and admiration swelling within you, as you slowly reached into the box, pulling out a book.

The simple task of organizing your mother’s store became an afterthought, your mind drifting away from the mundane and onto the twin brothers who worked their toward their farm.

The identical twins Smoke and Stack caught your attention as soon as they arrived back in Mississippi. You could hardly believe they were back after years spent working for Al Capone. They purchased a sawmill from a bigoted landowner and chose to open their own farm.

It hasn't been a popular topic ever since; you've known them for so long that the exact time escapes you. You were a close friend of both, and occasionally, others questioned why they picked you. when trouble seemed to follow them sometimes.

The twins knew that you were a working woman, trying to keep the boat afloat. But you had your eyes on Smoke, not Stack.

Stack wanted to get an exorcism on him after what happened with Mary, once it was, he felt free of her venom, her evil spell.

A hoodoo from Annie helps Smoke in ways only whispered about—dark, uncanny ways. He was able to sleep at night.

The juke joint was no longer in business ever since that night. It became nothing more than a forgotten memory, a chapter in the town's history shrouded in mystery.

All you knew of them was that weren't married, no kids. It was only business, and money.

Your sister Asia, wasn’t the one to catch you slipping from doing the simple tasks at work but this time she got lucky.

“Y/N! What is wrong with’chu? Mama doesn’t want us foolin’ around in the store!” Asia yelled, her hand on her hip.

You almost flinched from her voice, but didn’t move an inch. You sighed lowly before placing the books inside the empty spaces in the bookshelf.

“I’m just gettin’ a lil’ distracted, that’s all Asia,” You shot back, your tone filled with annoyance, you grabbed another box of books and ripped it open.

You spent your early mornings and late nights alongside your sister Asia in your mother's shop, selling books, agricultural products, and various essential items for farm life.

Aisa scoffed at you, clearly unimpressed by your words. She definitely knew about your feelings for Smoke.

“Please tell me that you ain’t lookin’ Smoke’s way, he’s trouble.”

“I would be lyin” if I said I wasn’t sista.” You chuckled lightly, placing your

You fixed the hem of your black dress with red roses plastered on them, until you spotted Smoke toward the store.

You hurried your way to the counter, and pushed your sister to the side, while she gave you a skeptical glare.

Smoke sauntered in, his charm unmistakable even in the dim afternoon light filtering through the window.

"Good afternoon, ladies," Smoke drawled, tipping his hat with a sly smile.

Asia crossed her arms, arching an eyebrow, clearly waiting for you to speak first. You cleared your throat and finally spoke up, “Good afternoon Smoke,”

“What would you like to buy today?” You brought up, holding your hand behind your back to stop them from shaking.

His eyes deep brown eyes gleamed with mischief as they settled on yours. "I'm hoping to trade for some new seeds," he said, leaning casually on the counter.

“Oh! I know just what you need! Here are some of the best tomato seeds we have.” You replied back, You reached under the counter, producing a small burlap sack with a flourish.

You passed the sack to him, while he passed a bundle of dollar bills back to you, his fingers brushing yours. “Thank you, but it’s too much money,” you stammered, trying to return some of the cash.

Smoke shook his head, his smile widening. "Nah, keep the change. Ya'll already work yo’ tails off in this sto’, you deserve it. Besides the fact that this is my favorite place,” he added, taking in the surroundings as if he were seeing them anew.

Heat raised in your cheeks once you pulled your hand away, feeling a wave of nervousness. It wasn't every day that a customer, especially someone like Smoke, made you feel so noticed.

“Thank you, Elijah,”

You watched him walk out of the store and give you a wink, and you've finally looked back at your sister, “Don't give me that look, I know that you're fond of him, I'm sure he feels the same,” she spoke up.

“I'm gonna take a day off, tell mama that I'll be back in time for supper.” You said, grabbing your bag from under the counter.

Asia watched you with a knowing grin while shaking her head, she was happy for you but you left to do all the work, she was gonna have to make up a good excuse for this one. But you needed a break from that store, running a business was already stressful enough.

“Hey, Elijah!”

The twin brothers turned around you, giving that devious smirk and Smoke spoke up first. “Yeah?”

“I was hopin’ that we could spend some time together?”

He couldn't help but smile wider, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. “Of course, I would love to court you this afternoon. Just tell me where you'd like to go, and I'll make it happen.”

Stack eyed you up and down, the curve of your ass, the dress hugging your body perfectly, Smoke’s eyes lingered after his brother's. “I understand why you want to hang back at the store,” Stack teased, catching your eye.

“Back off, nigga she's mine, you were just freed of the white devil,” Smoke shot back in a whisper.

Stack rolled his eyes, sighing after what he said, “That don't mean I lost sight of this beauty right here,”

“Back up and I mean that shit,” Smoke shot back, his tone laced with anger.

“A’ight, a nigga will back off,”

You walked up toward Smoke with a smile, feeling the tension between the brothers dissipate as you focused on him. “Let’s just go somewhere fun. I’ve been cooped up in that store for too long.”

Smoke’s expression softened, and he nodded. “I know just the place. The old riverbank is quiet this time of day. We can sit, talk, and maybe even dance a little if the mood strikes.”

“Dance? You think you can keep up with me?” you teased, your heart racing at the thought of being alone with him.

“Oh, I know I can,” he replied, his voice frim and confident.

You both made your way to the riverbank, the sun casting a golden hue over everything. The sound of water lapping against the shore mixed with the chirping of cicadas, the two of you sat down underneath a big oak tree.

As he pulled a thick soft woolen blanket, you settled down on it, you felt the weight of the world lift off your shoulders. “This is nice,” you said, looking out over the water.

“Yeah, it is, But it’s even nicer with you here.” Smoke agreed, his gaze fixed on you.

You felt your cheeks heat up again, and you looked away, trying to hide your smile. “You’re just saying that.”

“Nah, I mean it. You’re special to me, Y/N. Always have been,” he said, moving closer.

His honesty caught you off guard. “I…I feel the same way, Smoke. But it’s complicated.”

“Complicated how?” he pressed, his voice dropping to a whisper as he leaned closer, his breath warm against your skin.

You hesitated, your heart racing. “You know how people talk. About you and Stack. About the trouble that follows you.”

Smoke chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Let them talk. They don’t know us. They don’t know what we’ve been through. I’m not that man anymore. I’m here for you, not for the past.”

You looked into his deep brown eyes, searching for any hint of insincerity, but all you found was warmth and sincerity. “You really mean that?”

“More than anything, I came back for you,” he said, his voice firm.

You felt a rush of emotions as you leaned in closer, your lips almost touching. “Then why don't you show me?”

Smoke wasted no time, closing the distance and crashing his lips into yours.

The kiss was soft at first, but it quickly deepened, igniting a fire within you that had long been dormant. Your lips sliding across his, feeling his soft hands cradle your face as he pulled you closer.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless. “Wow,” you whispered, your heart racing.

“Yeah, wow,” Smoke echoed, a playful grin spreading across his face. “I could get used to this.”

“Me too, but what about Stack?” you admitted, feeling bold.

“Stack can handle himself. This is about us,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “I’ll always protect what’s mine.”

You smiled, feeling a sense of belonging wash over you. “And what if I’m not ready for all that?”

“Then we take it slow,” he replied, brushing your box braids behind your ear.

You laughed softly, the sound echoing in the quiet space. “Slow is good too.”

He kissed you again before peppering kissing along the crook of your neck, with his hands on the small of your back, you squirmed in your seat and your breathing became hollow. “E-Elijah, I...I want you so much,”

He kissed the shell of your ear, feeling the warmth flow through you causing your clit to throb. His cupped your ass roughly, the soft flesh made him groan lowly, and his length hardened in his pants. “I want you more than you ever know darlin’, fuck,”

“W-wait, we're outside, someone might see us,” You whispered, your eyes darting through the small riverback.

“Would you like to go somewhere private, baby?”

“Yes, You really are trouble?”

Maybe a little trouble from him wasn't so bad, but the two of you standing up from the blanket, he picked it up and folded it in his hands. You and Elijah walked onto the small bridge that led to his house.

The cool night breeze carried the scent of fresh earth and blooming wildflowers, and grabbed your hand. He led you toward the front door of brown lumber, he fished out the keys and unlocked the door with a swift flick.

He opened the front door for you as you stepped inside the cozy living room, closing the door behind you. He twisted the lock, and followed behind

“My room is on the left, sweetheart.” He guided you, his voice raised an octave with a hint of rasp in it.

As you walked the hallways, seeing pictures of Smoke and Stack when they were younger, their mom between them hugging them tighter. You heard the story of their father

Whew, that's southern twang with that voice of his made your pussy throb. Carefully fanning yourself with a shaky exhale, his arms wrapped around your waist and peppered kisses along your neck. You sighed blissfully before kissing him back, a wave of heat washed over you.

Both of your clothes littered across the bedroom floor, the sound of lips coliiding filling the room, soft moans from you were music to his ears.

Smoke dragged his dick toward you, halting at your wet pussy, and he slid hismself into you, as you moaned at the size of him. “fuck..” you dragged out in a moan, pushing your hips with him.

He started off with deep, long thrusts, focusing on that sweet spot that you squirm underneath him. The sound of skin-to-skin slapping together echoed in the room and your arm wrapped around him. “So fucking goodd..” you whimpered, legs shaking.

You kept him close to you, This moment was perfect and you were with him, “That pussy is still tight, and wet huh?” he teased, lifting you onto his lap.

You rode him with such skill, as his hand smacked your ass once more, “Answer me,” You were unable to respond, your moans sounded like gibberish. Everything in you was telling you to release already, but you wanted more.

Blinking away tears from the pleasure, “Yess..” you trailed off, kissing his shoulder. He made sure you felt the love through every thrust, eliciting moans. His dick kissing that sweet spot of yours, eyes rolling back. Giving you everything all at once.

The way he fucked you so good made you see the heavens, hands clenching the sheets. “You drive me wild, baby, don't you feel the love I'm givin’ you?” He said, thrusting deeper. You did feel it, every single time, you were a wet babbling mess, he smirked at the mess that was made in his lap, biting his lip.

A knot tightening in your stomach letting you know that your climax was here, bodies quaking. Without saying a word, you came undone, your essence pouring out on his dick, while squirting on his abdomen. “Damn, girl.” he groaned lowly.

Bodies collapsed beside each other, panting heavily replaced with laughter. He turned his face to you while you looked his way, “You good, sweetheart?” he asked in concern, his thumb swiping over your cheek.

“Yeah, I'm good, let’s clean up,” you panted heavily, smirking at him. Feeling a wave of happiness wash over you.

After that, the two of you took showers, getting dressed and he drove you back home. As he kissed you goodnight, you knew that this was the beginning of you and him, something magical.

————-

[bonkers-4-hatter]

Lotor X !Plus Sized Female Reader - Fall Traditions

"It's tradition Lotor! I know you don't want to be around people, but please, go for me?" I give him a pout, jutting out my bottom lip as I put on my 'puppy dog eyes' which always make him cave.

He let out a scoff, but sighed and deflated in defeat. "Okay Starlight, I'll go to this...corn maze as you say."

I hug him as he slides his arms around my plump form. "You know I'd do anything for you starlight." He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. Only alone would he show me this kind of affection, and I understand, with a smile I cherish the affection he shows that's only reserved for me.

I was giddy as we pulled up to the corn maze. Growing up, coming to these places during the fall were fun and filled with laughter and frights especially if we went through the maze at night.

Lotor takes my hand as we walk to the ticket booth. I smile as I see families with small children as they laugh and run around picking the perfect pumpkin. "You said this was a tradition starlight? Do all humans participate in it?" He gave my hand a light squeeze as we walk through the rows of pumpkins.

"Not all humans participate. It's a tradition for me and a lot of humans because we used to do this when we were younger. My mom always brought me and my siblings here every fall. We'd pick pumpkins, go on the hay ride and through the corn maze and have applie cider, it was so magical for me as a kid...and one of the rare happy memories I have...I know to you it's silly..but-."

My words were cut off as he gave me a soft, chaste kiss. My round cheeks flushed as he pulled back before I could fully process it. "It's not silly if it holds special memories for you (Y/N)...nothing that's special to you is silly my starlight, never forget that. Now let's go make more of those special memories."

We look through the pumpkin patch first, my soft, round face scruched in concentration as I tried to look for the perfect pumpkin. Lotor helped, picking the biggest pumpkin he could carry before putting it in our wagon. Picking a few other pumpkins and hay stacks we bring them to the car.

"I can't wait to carve the pumpkins! We'll put them on our porch for the trick or treaters!" I was excited as I spoke, my soft arms and hands waving in the air as I spoke with them. Lotor sported a soft smile as he watched me talk animately.

Getting hot apple cider, we enjoyed the cute hayride that showed us the farm and along the way it had cute cardboard cut outs of Halloween themed characters or scenes and even giant spider made out of black plastic pipes and hay bails. Lotor's arms wrapped around my pudgy waist, his fingers skimming my sweater clad skin.

"This drink...can we make it at home?" He was on his third cup of hot apple cider. I laughed and nodded. "I'll order some, not sure how good it'll be if I try to make it, I'm sure they sell some here too." His eyes lit up at the notion making me smile. He was enjoying himself...which would be a first for an Earth activity.

As the sun started to go down, I decided it was the perfect time to do the corn maze. Once inside, the cute decorations and cardboard cut outs were back, with festive lights scttered around. "So...you pay to be put in a maze? Starlight, what fun is that?" He asked looking down both sides of the fork in the cornstalks.

I pull him down one path enjoying the atmosphere. "Because it's fun! It's cute and it's getting dark so it'll be a bit spooky!" Hitting a dead end, I pout. "Fun you say?" He smirks before taking the lead and tugging me back the way we came.

A good chunk of time passed and we're still in the corn maze, the moon high in the sky. The sound of laughing children and soft music coming from the farm, but I was straddled on Lotor's lap as he sat on a haybail in the corner of another dead end of the corn maze.

Our lips were slated against one another in a dance. His hands gripped my soft round hips anchoring me down on his lap. Pulling back, our hot breaths lingered together. "You were right (Y/N), these corn mazes are fun." He nipped and sucked along the curve of my neck going down to my collarbone.

The sound of people nearby caused Lotor to stand with my plump, soft body in his arms before he gently sat me down. Giving me one last hungry kiss, he grabbed my hand and headed back to the maze to finally get out. "Let's find our way out, we'll have more fun at home my starlight."

Biting my lip, I flushed at his words as we both whispered and laughed together as we navigated the corn maze hand in hand.

[mirandasidefics]

But Home is Nowhere- Chapter 3

Pairing(s): Lucien X Plus Size Reader, Azriel X Plus Size Reader, and Ruhn Danaan X Plus Size Reader

Chapter 3 Summary: Nesta confronts Rhysand and Azriel pays a visit to the Moonstone Palace.

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: Talk of nightmares, mentions of blood and violence.

A/N: Hopefully the characters aren't too OOC for this one. I'm sorry this chapter is so short! Work got a bit busy so free time for writing was reduced. But I still wanted to keep my schedule of every other week. Just means there will be more chapters in the long run. This is Azriel's POV. The story will mainly be from Reader, Lucien, and Azriel's POV moving forward.

Series Masterlist

Previous: Chapter 2

Azriel swiftly made his way to Rhysand’s office in the House of Wind for a debriefing with Cassian, Nesta, and Bryce after their return to Prythian. The group had been successful in their rescue efforts and the trio returned with Bryce’s mate and brother in tow. His shadows had told him that the two new arrivals had been beaten and bloody with healers rushing to the northern residential wing of the Moonstone Palace. He knew he should have accompanied them on their trip, especially after hearing of their losses of at least two spies as the group made their way out. If he had gone with them then he certainly wouldn’t have been forced to subject you to – He stopped short at the scene before him, at the absolute fury that radiated off the eldest Archeron sister. His shadows and siphons immediately responded to the small thrum of power emanating off of her. He smized he finally had his answer regarding the amount of power the cauldron determined she was worthy to keep after helping Feyre deliver Nyx. Nesta stood before his brother’s desk, her hands balled into fists at her sides, chest heaving. Rhysand sat in his high back chair, elbows resting against the dark wood of the desk. Only the swirling rage in his eyes giving any indication of his emotions. A large stack of books laid sprawled on the floor. Loose papers fluttered their way back down. A well of black ink had been topped over, its contents staining the already dark mahogany and the High Lord’s face. Bryce sat in one of the chairs opposite the desk, picking at her nails. Her eyes darting between the fighting in-laws.

“I don’t know what more you want me to say Nesta,” Rhys rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I have apologized to the woman and have provided for her. Lucien is keeping her company and assisting her in finding a way back to her home, but she will remain in the eastern wing for the time being.” Fuck. So, he hadn’t removed the letter Lucien left in the House before either Nesta or Cassian read it. Not that Azriel wanted to hide (Y/N)’s existence from the pair, he just wanted to explain that he agreed with the male. The human girl was of no threat, despite her highly unexpected and unsettling arrival. Given Nesta’s current disposition it appeared that she had already gone to the Moonstone Palace as Lucien requested. 

“You have her sealed inside the place just like that Spring Court bastard did to Feyre,” Nesta spat, the information hitting Azriel square in the chest. The image of (Y/N)’s terror filled (e/c) eyes flashed through his mind. Had his word not been enough to convince his brother of her innocence? Yes, she was no longer swathed in the darkness, the darkness that he was solely responsible for, but to still be a prisoner… He hadn’t wanted that for her. He wanted her to feel safe. She deserved at least that much, if not more. Azriel’s attention snapped back to the conversation before him.

“She’s just a girl Rhys,” Cassian spoke up from his position between his mate and the desk. “Nes and I spent the whole day with her. She-”

“You have dedicated an entire part of your court to the protection of traumatized females,” Nesta snarled, “You have created laws to ensure those that cause harm to innocents pay for their actions. Yet you violate everything that you’ve built by having her tortured and locked away for the past month! What does she have to do to convince you that she is not a threat?” Rhysand let out a breath, despite his efforts to exude a sense of calm, it was clear that the male was exhausted. 

“I honestly don’t know at this point,” The admission was one that Azriel didn’t expect, “But my decision stands.” Nesta clicked her tongue, arms crossing as she finally removed her gaze from the High Lord.

“I will not be keeping this from my sister,” Nesta seethed. Her steel infused eyes landed on Azriel and he tried not balk from the fury now directed at him. Her gait was steady as she approached, arms crossing over her chest. Despite him being a good 5 inches taller than her, Nesta managed to look down her nose at him.

“Not keep what from me?” The entire room went still as Feyre stood in the doorway, arms crossed over her chest and brows furrowed in annoyance. Her stance mirrored her sister’s, highlighting their similarities all the more. Azriel shifted in spot next to the door, glancing at his brother who slow stood up from his desk. The tension in the air thickened as Feyre looked to each individual in the room.

“What are you keeping from me now Rhysand?” Her glare at her mate would have had any other male cowering. This was perhaps the most frightening Feyre had ever appeared to Azriel outside of that battle field nearly 3 years ago.

“We will discuss the events in Midgard later. If you all will excuse us,” Rhysand swallowed, “I have something to discuss with my High Lady.”

Azriel struggled to keep his shadows in check as they buzzed around the closed doors that did little to muffle the shouting match between the rulers of the Night Court. While the group had been dismissed, Azriel still had questions for his brother. He supposed those questions would have to wait, provided the Night Court still had a High Lord in the morning. He was grateful for the distraction when Bryce asked him to return her to the Moonstone Palace to be with her mate. It also gave him a reason to check in on (Y/N). Something he hadn’t been able to do since the day he and Lucien walked her out of the catacombs. He knew that keeping his distance would be best for her, but he couldn’t help the worry that invaded him on a nightly basis. That week had not been kind to either of them. It had been a long time since he experienced nightmares as a result of his…duties as spymaster. A long time since the tang of a person’s fear embedded itself in his memory. Maybe actually seeing her in a new setting would help ease his conscious.

He winnowed Bryce directly into the suite that had been set up for her and her family. A fire roared in the large black onyx hearth of the large sitting area. The set of doors to each of the two bedrooms were wide open, allowing the healers to run back and forth between them. It appeared they were in the process of packing up their things, when one approached him.

“Both males are asleep,” the elder female whispered, “The mate is in that room. He’ll need the most care for the next few weeks as his wings begin to grow back. The other might need to have healers from the Dawn Court take a better look at him, the High Lord too. There’s a heavy barrier around his mind.” He nodded and relayed the message to Bryce.

“Thank you,” The red-head squeezed his shoulder before dipping into the room on the left. Azriel awkwardly stood in the hallow space. Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He had never spent any significant amount of time in the Moonstone Palace and the morning was a long way off. He had a general idea of where the unoccupied spare rooms were, but he wasn’t tired. He debated on making his way to the gardens when a wailing scream ripped through the halls. The sound caused Azriel’s heart to drop. The elder healer scurried over to the doorway of the room on the right, calling out to whomever was inside.

“Wren, the tonic, is it ready for her?” Her. (Y/N) had made that sound. Nausea whirled in his stomach. A young male appeared in the doorway with two medium sized cups in his hands.

“I’ll take it,” Azriel’s shaky voice passed over his lips before he could stop himself.

“Its for the human girl,” Wren gathered a funnel and metal flask from a corner table in the main sitting room. Slowly he poured the contents of each cup into a metal flask. “The male that’s with her says she suffers from nightmares. He asked us to mix this for her. It’s a concentrated brew, so it must be diluted with water or tea, preferably a sweetened tea as its quite bitter. No more than an ounce before bed.” The male grabbed a second smaller cup and placed it into Azriel’s covered hands. He nodded in understanding, his shadows already racing to find her. Another scream echoed, the terror laced within latching onto his bones. He had caused these nightmares. He knew he would never be able to atone for the trauma that she would now carry with her. Something in his chest snagged as yet another cry ricocheted through the palace. His shadows returned and swirled, urging him out of the room. A male groan came from the room Wren had exited and he quick scurried back inside.

“Hurry, before her screams wake them,” Azriel’s lips curled into a snarl at the insensitive remark as he was ushered out of the room. “They all deserve some rest Shadowsinger.”  The female healer amended, the entrance door to the suite clicking shut behind him. He made his way as quickly as he could to her room. His shadows frantic as muffled sobs could be heard bouncing off the stone walls of the eastern wing. He didn’t even bother to knock on the door before entering the bedroom. His breath caught in his throat as he took in the sight.

The bed was disheveled, the cream duvet pushed to the ground alongside several throw pillows in various shades of blue. Lucien was sat in the center of the bed, (Y/N) cradled in his lap. Azriel watched on as Lucien rocked her back and forth, shushing her and rubbing her bare back. The green top, clearly torn and discarded on the floor, was stained dark with sweat and…blood. Sobs and muffled apologies tumbled from her lips and into the golden skin of Lucien’s neck. Her hair, slickened with tears, plastered itself to her forehead. Her trembling hands held a vice like grip, her knuckles white from the force of her hold on him. The tips of her fingernails were stained red. Azriel’s eyes roamed over her for any signs of injuries. He wasn’t able to assess her front as she pressed against the male comforting her. It took him second to realize that the Autumn male’s shirt was also missing, and something ugly curled its way through Azriel’s thoughts. That was until he saw the upturned couch, and what was clearly spare blankets and pillows pinned underneath. Likely overturned in Lucien’s haste to get to (Y/N). It took him another second to realize that the room was sweltering. Every light in the room was on and the fire in the fireplace was twice the size it should have been, leaving no space for his shadows.

“Are you just going to lurk there?” The female started at Lucien’s words, letting out a whimper and he immediately consoled her. The male’s russet eye landed on Azriel, who cautiously approached the bed. Before he could get too close, the red-head held up his hand in warning. Close enough.

“(Y/N),” Lucien whispered against her cheek, the action far too intimate for Azriel’s liking, “I asked the healers to make you another sleeping draft. Go draw yourself a bath, and I’ll get the tonic and bed prepared for you.” He brushed her hair out of her eyes as she pulled back slightly. She nodded in understanding, and her grip on him lessened.  Azriel felt like an intruder as he watched her separate herself from Lucien, catching sight of the outline of her full breast underneath her arm before she fully faced away from him. The woman seemed to become aware of her bare chest and reached for a pillow to cover herself with. Azriel noted that Lucien’s eyes never strayed down wards and remained fixed on the headboard behind her. A better male that he was. Once she was out of the sight, Lucien rose from the bed and approached Azriel.

“How is she?” Azriel blurted. He wasn’t a fool. He could clearly see she wasn’t doing well, but the question fell from him nonetheless. He continued to stare at the spot she previously occupied on the bed. Lucien studied him, the golden eye whirring and zeroing in on whatever information he was trying to read in Azriel’s expression. The spymaster’s training set in and his features hardened. The emissary did the same. His shadows spluttered at the doorway as he took a step into the room.

“How is-”

“I heard you,” Lucien let out a heavy breath and carded his lean fingers along his scalp. “You want to know the extent of your handiwork? This is what I have come to know of her through my comforting her every night since arriving here. I have become more familiar with the sound of her screams than her laugh. I smell the fear that leeches out of her every pore. So potent and thick that even my own instincts have me searching the room to make sure there is no one here to harm her. Her body thrashes violently-desperately-to break the grip the nightmares have on her own mind. There are bruises on her ankles that won’t heal because she kicks against the bed posts everything night.” Azriel felt the color slowly drain from his face.

“She doesn’t always wake from the nightmares right away either. Tonight, was one of those nights. She was crying, pleading and begging whatever was haunting her to stop. She was clawing on her own throat and chest trying to pry what I can only assume were memories of your shadows away. You ask how she is doing? She is not well, and she is terrified of you Azriel.” A flame burned within his red iris despite the calm manner in which he spoke, and Azriel felt his body recoil in shame. He didn’t want to know any more. He knew this was his fault and didn’t need to be reminded.

“You want to help her?” Azriel nodded simply, not daring to speak after hearing Lucien’s tone laced with a bitterness he hadn’t heard in years. “She needs and deserves to be let out of here. Allowed to live far enough away from the Hewn City to know that she won’t be sent back down to that cell. But for now, she needs a dreamless sleep.” The Autumn male approached him slowly, his hand held out expectantly. Azriel handed over the flask and small cup.

“Mix an ounce of this with tea or water,” His own voice was barely above a whisper as Lucien continued to hold his stare. Shame and guilt clung to him. Without another word, Azriel turned on his heel and left the room, unable to bare witness to your suffering any longer.

Next: Chapter 4

Tag list: @jenniferpendragon @impossibelle @sweet-chai-amore @myheartfollower @iimichie @fightmedraco @nikkitc0703 @eerievixen @ang-taylorsversion @randomness-it-is

[villainofmyownstory]

Day Zero chapter 5

masterlist | taglist | AO3

Previous | Next

pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x plus size fem!reader

summary: It is hard to convince a man that you are telling the truth. You want him to finally trust you and let you stay. If he wasn't so stubborn and… drunk.

tags: AFAB reader, plus size reader, dog german shepherd, alcohol

author's note: I had a lot of trouble writing this chapter. I'm not proud of it, but I think that finally the story becomes more interesting and you will like it.

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Chapter 5: The one where everything is still difficult

Day 732

Sounds coming from the kitchen get your attention. No. Smells. You involuntarily feel yourself drooling. The burping in your stomach intensifies.

Your mind is in high gear and all you can think about now is food, hunger. Thirst.

You have eaten so little for days. You have tried to ration and preserve as long as possible the rations you took on the trip. You had no luck and didn't find much fresh food along the way. You only found a few cans. Not to mention a warm, home-cooked meal. It's probably been months since you last managed to heat something up. Not to mention cooking. And you used to love spending time in the kitchen, buying and trying new ingredients, testing brand new dishes.

“Thank you for the possibility to take a bath.... And for the rest of the things.”

You stand on the threshold of the kitchen, speaking uncertainly. You step from foot to foot. The man stands with his back turned to you, clearly preoccupied with something. He just waves his hand, indicating with his finger for you to sit down on a stool by the kitchen island. 

As you sit down, you notice Riley standing against the wall, greedily eating what Ghost has put into a large silver bowl. The dog doesn't even stop eating for a moment to look at you.

You look around the kitchen, which, like the hallway and bathroom, is dimly lit, with only the light above the countertops. Only where Ghost is standing is it bright enough. The rest of the room is plunged into semi-darkness. While waiting for any interaction with the man, you curiously look around the room. As in the adjacent room you were in shortly after you arrived, there are all sorts of things arranged in towers on each shelf. Mainly food. Cans, jars, packages of dry food. Everything evenly and neatly stacked.  

“I made tea.”

The man breaks the silence, puts a mug of hot brew in front of you

“T-tea?"

You exhale something like a squeak, you did not want to sound like this, however, you are very surprised. But God, warm tea? You had already forgotten that such a thing existed. Since you had a hard time finding drinkable water, you did nothing but simply sip to quench your thirst.

You immediately grab the ear of the cup, put it to your lips and drink, it's nothing that the hot drink steams your mouth, tongue, esophagus. Out of greed and thirst, you quickly drink the entire contents of the cup. You wipe your wet mouth with your hand.

“Thank you.”

Sighing loudly, you set the cup down on the countertop, looking at the man again. Another long moment of silence passes. The man still stands with his back turned to you. Unwittingly, your gaze falls on him. You admire how he moves with graceful and delicate movements in a tight space of the kitchen.

It's a rather peculiar sight, considering his physique. He is a tall and broad, well-built man. Now you can get a better look at him, although he still wears a dingy balaclava on his head, covering his face, hair and neck. He is not wearing a full uniform. His broad shoulders and muscular arms lightly cling to a long-sleeved black cotton shirt. To you, even without all the military equipment, Ghost's silhouette is intimidating. It causes an unpleasant squeezing in your stomach and a quickened pulse. You still don't know what to expect from him. According to you, he is unpredictable.

A pleasant smell that spreads more and more in the kitchen catches your attention, some spices, think rosemary, pepper, sour tomatoes, maybe mushrooms. and yes, you definitely smell fried blood meat.

It's just too much.

You close your eyes for a moment, hoping that you're about to smell the food that creates such an unusual and delicious aroma. The burbling in your stomach intensifies, probably the tea you drank has awakened your empty digestive system from lethargy.

“Eat.”

A large, deep plate filled to the brim with food lands in front of you.

Stew.

Potatoes and meat. You shake your head in disbelief.

Have you made it to heaven? Is this some kind of reward for two years of uneven and hard struggle with yourself to survive?

“Thank you... Ghost.. for everything.”

You swallow your saliva loudly.

This is probably the best meal you've ever had. The meat is tender, the vegetables are slightly firm, the whole thing is lightly seasoned, the sauce is delicate, so you can feel every flavor and texture.

“It's just food.”

Ghost burbles, sitting down across from you, and begins to eat.

“After dinner, we need to talk.”

You don't think you've eaten a meal this fast in your entire life. If the man wanted to convince you with this or apologize for his behavior. Then you don't mind if he rewards you every night for his behavior toward you in this way.

The house is big, really huge.  One that could house a multi-generational family. After a meal, or rather after eating two portions, Ghost led you to another room on the other side of the house. A small one in which most of the space is taken up by a large desk.  The man takes one of the maps stacked on one of the bookcases against the wall and places it on the desk. He sits down on the other side of the desk facing you.

With another mug of tea in your hand, you sit more comfortably in the chair, looking at the map with some interest.

“Do you know where we are?”

Ghost asks the question, without taking his eyes off the map.

“I didn't see a sign with the name of the city when I came here, but I more or less know that I've been heading in the direction of the tower all along, which is west.”

You lean over the desk and point with your hand to the area you think you are more or less in. A possible location of where you are now.

“Not quite.”

Ghost points his finger at the map, a decidedly more distant point on the map than the one you just showed

 “We are here.”

You stare intently at the map, not convinced it's possible for you to have walked that far. You nod your head negatively. Not believing that you've made it this far. The distance you traveled seemed too far.

“I walked for a long time, but I was sure that I hadn't come such a long way.” 

“How long?”

The man finally takes his eyes off the map and leans back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. He looks at you closely.

“Actually, I don't know. It's been a long time since I stopped counting days.”

You sigh, clasping your hands nervously, your gloves still damp.

After a moment's thought, you add

“I think I've been walking for three or four weeks.”

Taking another sip of tea, you look at the map again

“I don't even know how long it's been since.... since...”

“Day Zero.”

He interrupts you, saying the words in a low, slow tone.

“Oh, it's... is that what you prefer to call it?”

“Yes. This day has been so named.”

Ghost moves closer, placing his elbows on the edge of the desk. Not giving you a chance to ask another nagging question.

“So how did you manage to survive for two years?”

He asks another question, looking at you more carefully, squinting his eyes.

You snort in slight nervousness.

“Honestly, I don't know, somehow.... I got lucky.”

You tell the truth, yet you nervously squeeze the fabric of your gloves, you always try to soothe your nerves this way in such stressful situations. Focusing your mind on something else.

“Who were you with?”

“Alone.”

You answer quickly and finally lift your gaze. You look into a man's dark eyes.

“Yes, definitely. And I was at the Manchester City game yesterday.” 

Ghost tilts his head to the side. Despite the mask on, you can see that the man is not smiling. Quite the opposite. He's tense, not looking away from you for even a second.

“I don't know how to prove it to you. All this time, damn it, all this time I've been alone. Alone. I haven't seen a LIVING person since that day!”.

You raise your voice.

Riley, most likely hearing your raised voices, runs out of the kitchen and stands next to the desk. He looks either at the man or at you. As if he is concerned about the situation.

More questions, one after another. Why, how, when, how much, really? And so on, and so on. The questions multiply. The same, but asked in a different way.

Not sure how long it lasts, a few minutes, maybe more than an hour? It all blends into one. However, long enough to feel the growing fatigue. This tiring and tedious interrogation is probably aimed at catching you in a lie, question after question. After another answer, you hear his next question again, monotonous slowly spoken words. And so on and so forth. After each of your answers, without changing his tone, he asks you another. Word against word.

He has certainly done this more than once in the past. You can see the experience in him, the confidence, the composure. He will be the one to break you before you break him. He'll keep asking you until you're finally jaded and tired, agitated by his behavior and dreaming of one brief moment of peace and quiet. Eventually you will give in and say what he wants to hear.

Finally, you rub your eyes with resignation and say in the hope that he will agree to your suggestion.

"Can we end this interrogation?"

"Interrogation? Hm... We're just talking to each other. We're chatting."

The man rolls up the map, putting it back in its place on the shelf with other papers, and slowly gets up

"But fine, we'll finish tomorrow. Follow me."

The room where you will spend the night is very small, with bright, bland walls. Almost like the storage room under the stairs where Harry Potter lived. In truth, given the size of the house, you can bet that there are bigger and nicer rooms where you could sleep. However, at this point you only dream of putting your head against the pillow and finally falling asleep.

Unfortunately, sleep is not coming. Although small, the narrow bed is very comfortable. Certainly more comfortable than the ones you slept in last time. If you slept in a bed at all. It's curling up in a ball in the sheets, changing position every now and then.

Riley protested for a long time by clenching his paws when Ghost tried to lead him out of the room. The dog wanted to stay with you.

Of course he wanted to.

It was amusing to watch the big man speak to the dog in an affectionate and pleading tone. Lightly pulling him by the dog's collar or trying to lift his heavy body off the floor. And Riley had nothing to do with his words and simply chose you. You didn't even have to say anything. You sat on the edge of the bed watching the whole overly comical situation. You felt it wasn't worth it, better not to make your situation worse.

It was Riley's decision, not yours.

The calm, rhythmic loud breathing of the dog finally puts you to sleep after many long minutes.

For the first time in a long time you find yourself in the arms of Morpheus. You sleep through the night, not once waking up with fear.

The first peaceful night.

Day 733

When you wake up, the first thing that catches your attention, still drowsy, you notice that you are not shivering from the cold. Every morning since time immemorial has started the same way. Icy limbs and shivering body, you often even moved your jaw involuntarily because you were so freezing.

This time it's pleasantly warm. Strange. Lying motionless in the warm bedding, you try to assimilate the astounding new situation. A few more moments and you remember where you are. At Ghost's house. Well, yes. Not in some abandoned, cold building somewhere in an unknown place far from civilization.

As you leave the room you notice the absence of the dog's presence and the same shrill silence as at night. You can hear nothing, no signs of presence, busyness in the kitchen, footsteps, no one and nothing. After the morning toilet you head to the kitchen and a peculiar sight appears to your eyes. On the counter lies a piece of paper and a covered plate.

“I'm on patrol with Riley.

Don't do anything stupid.

I see you.”

You smile under your breath. Bluff. Surely there are no cameras in the apartment. Supposedly why would he mount them in the house, use up such precious electricity. Surely he wanted to trick you. He probably wanted to scare you so you wouldn't do anything stupid or relatively dangerous and start searching his house. Still, this stubborn man didn't trust you. That was obvious. 

Sitting down at the kitchen island, you look down at your plate. Another surprise. The meal looks decidedly better than what you've been eating for the past few months. You can afford to indulge in a little luxury and quickly take your plate and heat it up in the microwave. Moments later there is a familiar sound, long unheard.

Truth be told, as if someone had told you a few years ago that you would start crying because of hot running water or squealing because of hot tea or a heated meal, you would have laughed out loud, shaking your head in disbelief.

Overall, the last few years have changed you a lot. They have reshaped you. They have changed practically everything. And despite so many days of breaking down, wishing for death after being left alone. After tonight, you feel as if new life has been pushed into you. Once again.

Oh and if only the demeanor of this giant, cranky, uptight man had been a little different. But it seems you can't have it all at once. Riley and finally a little civilization should be enough for you.

It had to be enough.

After eating, you must conclude with a hint of jealousy that even under such difficult conditions the man prepared a really tasty meal.

Not caring about the threat of being watched, you decide to look around the house. At least get a little familiar with your new surroundings. There seems to be nothing better to do. The idea of going outside in search of Ghost and Riley crosses your mind, but you immediately drive those thoughts away. After checking the door and a few windows. Of course, everything is locked. There is no way out. You decide not to struggle with the locks. Not to do any damage, because surely when trying to open the locks something would get hurt. Either you or the locks, which anyway looked very solid and difficult to open with some ordinary wire. It is better not to risk another argument with a man. Getting acquainted with the place also seemed tempting. Considering that at first glance it was clear that the man was well prepared for months, years of living in post-apocalyptic conditions. In the kitchen, apart from a lot of tightly packed long-life food, nothing else could be found. Lots of cans, packages, cardboard boxes. On the lower shelves, water purification devices, spare field stoves. The pantry is also not surprising. Well, maybe it is, the amount of food would certainly be enough for a family or even several. Not just for one person.

Looking at one of the labels, you notice that they are not familiar to you. They are definitely not the kind of things you find in a store or other abandoned houses.  You can't deduce much from the description, the long expiration date, the ingredients, the preparation instructions. Calorie count. No company name, bar code or place of manufacture. Nothing.

The shelves are bowed by the number of evenly stacked items. Which seem specially prepared for the situation. Nothing like the packages usually found in abandoned houses or stores.

Walking around the house you notice that in no place on any wall or shelf is there a single photo. Not a single empty frame. A bright rectangular mark on the wall. Nothing. It's as if no one had lived here before, or perhaps Ghost had buried the remains of the former tenants. Not wanting to see unfamiliar faces that looked reproachfully at the new tenant every day.

There is another option that now comes to mind. One more possibility. Something that was not quite so obvious. However, seeing the large amounts of accumulated belongings and food. It could have been that before day zero, this was his home.

If you had been even a little brave you would have asked him all the questions that were bothering you. But his manner, his tone of voice, his whole persona were so intimidating that you preferred not to know anything. Not to upset him, not to expose yourself. Just like at school. Stand aside and pray that no one notices you and ridicules you once again.

If ignorance, lack of questions and compliance are to make you stay. You are able to agree to this.

Many doors in the house are also closed. You are left with only the rooms you were in yesterday. After looking through the contents of the bookcases in the pantry and going through some maps and documents in the small room where you were interviewed yesterday, you found nothing of interest.  Which would have kept you busy while you waited for Ghost and Riley to return. Despondent, you return to the living room.

With resignation you sit down on the couch, you didn't even know how long this patrol would last. At least until one o'clock in the afternoon plus the return home from the tower, so the time spent alone was going to amount to several more hours.

There were some books in the room. So you try to kill time by reading. However, after a few moments, the words merge into one incomprehensible chatter. You can't concentrate even for a few moments. There were a lot of questions, doubts and question marks in my head all the time. You had so many interesting questions, and yet you were afraid to ask the man. Maybe after all, the comfort and security of a tightly closed home made it impossible for the brain to relax while reading.

Silence accompanied you every day.

When you were alone, you always had a book with you, something that allowed you to escape into an imaginary world for a few hours, to be somewhere else. Now the silence, the warmth of this house, something so natural, made your body feel alert somehow. As if peace wasn't something natural and right. Somewhere subconsciously you are still afraid that something bad is lurking around the corner.

Time slowly passed, maybe I managed to fall asleep on the couch for a while. It's possible that only a few minutes have passed. In a tightly closed house, in silence that irritates the ears. You decide to do something. Repay the man in some way, show that you are not a useless obstacle that appeared in his life. That you can be useful and needed. A nice gesture towards him, showing that you are grateful for his hospitality.

Convince him to let you stay longer.

The simplest thing that comes to mind, and that you are sure of. Is to make food. A tasty, warm dinner. Looking at the contents of the pantry and shelves, you are sure that even with a little effort you will be able to prepare something. Not just reheat a can of food with a long shelf life.

Bringing the necessary ingredients to mind what comes to your mind is another thought. Since you're sitting here locked up by yourself anyway.

Making something warm and edible might have annoyed Ghost. Using his supplies without asking, taking his things. Something he had meticulously collected and organized. He probably had his supplies calculated every day. So your behavior, certainly was not something extremely wise.  But it was probably worth the risk.

You lost yourself, you got carried away. Maybe the feeling of independence or the longing for the old life in such an ordinary, trivial activity as preparing a meal made you feel more confident. So now, after a long time in the kitchen, when you have managed to turn on the stove and the food is cooking, you jump around the kitchen listening to music.

You always did this while cooking.

Knowing that there was electricity in the house and seeing the music player, you turned it on and, full of excitement, hearing the first sounds of music, you involuntarily started moving your body to the rhythm of the music.

2 years before Day Zero

You

Driving home with your parents in the car, you sit in the back seat and listen to your favorite music. You pay no attention to the loud conversation and laughter of your parents, who sat in the front.

Looking out the window, you look at the crowded streets, the approaching holiday and weekend cause a lot of traffic. Although the weather does not encourage anyone to leave the house, many people unfortunately find themselves in a similar situation to you.

As you enter the road leading to your home, the rain intensifies. In fact, these are already suburbs and the road mainly leads to quiet neighborhoods of single-family houses.

The sudden braking of the vehicle and the rotation of the car around its axis causes you to shift inertly in your seat despite the fastened seat belt.

“What's going on?”

Removing one earpiece, you glance at your parents and look through the windshield.

Your attention is caught by one thing. A small dog is standing in the pouring rain. In the middle of the intersection stands a small, defenseless animal.

Thinking little, you unbuckle your seat belt and run out into the street and only then, you see the horrifying scene on the street.

The soaked dog is shaking in your arms.

“That ... could've been us.”

You hear your mother's terrified voice behind you. Now that you're back home, your parents anxiously describe the whole event to your sister.

“That truck should have driven into us. If you hadn't ... if Dad hadn't braked and swerved. That truck would have crushed us, because it suddenly drove into our lane.”

Wiping the dog you try not to listen to the concerned voices of your parents. There is no point in dwelling on this terrible situation. By some miracle you managed to avoid a collision with a multi-ton vehicle. And happily you were now all together at home.

“I wanted to avoid dog, the puppy suddenly appeared on the road”

Your dad tries to explain his sudden behavior on the road.

“Fucking miracle.”

Your mom looks at you and the dog, smiling gently.

Day 733

Your memories are violently interrupted by a sudden quiet. The music cuts off. Once again there is a piercing silence.

You quickly turn toward the room and notice that you are no longer alone.

Riley is standing on 4 paws merrily wagging his tail with his mouth wide open and tongue extended. Unfortunately, he can't approach you because he’s held on a leash in a strong grip. Yeah, right. You lift your gaze to see the tightly clenched hands on the leash and, despite the masked face, you immediately know that the man is clearly not happy.

“Tomorrow you'll be without electricity, because you don't know how to behave.” 

He says.

The broken silence lasts only a moment. Ghost stares at you for a few more seconds, then he and dog walk off into the dark corridor.

You hear him take something from a shelf in the pantry, and then the door at the end of the hall closes with a loud slam.

This is definitely not how you planned to convince him. This is not how it was supposed to be...

3 years before Day Zero

Ghost

Ghost entered the briefing room, as usual, a few minutes before the scheduled meeting. In the back row, he spotted his two team members, Sergeants Soap and Gaz. The men were gesticulating happily, showing each other something on their phone screens. Without even noticing it, the lieutenant took a vacant chair and sat down next to them.

The man wondered where the sudden call for this urgent meeting had come from. The mission they had been working on for months was progressing gradually, but so far successfully. They had a few more weeks to make another trip to gather more intel.  There was no indication of a sudden change of plans.

It had to be something else.

Ghost looked around the small room. To his surprise, all the members of the other task forces and other high-ranking soldiers were here.

There was definitely something going on.

When Captain Price entered the room, followed by Kate Laswell, the lieutenant greeted his superiors with a slight nod.

Ghost felt like he was in some freaking action movie, or even more of a sci-fi movie. Everything that was said during the briefing seemed irrational and untrue.

When finally the four men of Task Force 141 and Kate were seated in the captain's office each looked at the one another, as if each individual wanted to reassure themselves that what had taken place just a few minutes ago had really happened. That these words are not the product of their overtired heads, destroyed by constant stress and adrenaline.

Finally, the captain speaks up, interrupting this exchange of glances.

“So, Kate. What should we do now? After all, we can't pretend that what was said a moment ago never happened. How do we get back to our duties.... How are we to look our loved ones in the face and pretend that something so strange is not waiting for us?”

“I don't know John, unfortunately I know as much as you do. Everything is happening above me, at much higher levels. We just, we just have to prepare as best we can. To try... hell I don't know, for the first time in my life I'm not sure how to act.”

The woman hides her face in her hands without saying anything more.

“So what, we're supposed to keep going about our work, just like that? and at the same time get ready for the apocalypse?”

Kyle nervously walked around the room gesturing.

The exchange of nervous and raised voices continued, and Ghost was the only one who did not speak up. He felt overwhelmed by all this information. Everything seemed to be happening outside of him. Somewhere beside him. He wished it didn't involve him.

“ And you LT, what do you think?”

Finally, the question asked by Soap, draws the attention of the others to the masked man and the voice in the room falls silent.

“We are soldiers and we have to follow orders. And from what the general has relayed. We are to keep working while preparing safe houses for the eventuality of an attack. Each of us has assigned activities. If we want to protect ourselves and our relatives let's just stick to the assigned plan. We are in this together after all.  So let's just follow it. If Day Zero is to come, we must be as prepared as possible. ”

Day 733

Standing at the office door with steaming food on your plate and you momentarily hesitate to do something. Each single interaction with this man causes a strange pressure of nervousness in your stomach.

Every action he takes is unpredictable to you. Every reaction from him makes you doubt whether you will ever be able to establish any kind of a bond with him.

Finally, you end this internal struggle and knock on the door of the room. You wait a moment for any reaction, a sign of life, but nothing of the sort occurs. You put the plate by the door and hastily leave, hoping that the man will at least open the door and take the plate. He'll eat and maybe appreciate the meal you prepared.

“Let's talk.”

When you hear that low voice a few dozen minutes later, you flinch slightly on the couch. You put the book down and look at the man who is standing in the doorway leading to the kitchen.

“Okay.”

As he walks closer you involuntarily contract your legs on the couch, embracing them with your arms and nervously squeezing the blanket with which you are covered.

“We need to set some rules. I don't want the situation from today to happen again.”

Ghost sits down at the end of the couch without taking his eyes off you. He places a half-empty bottle of alcohol on the coffee table.

“You are extremely irresponsible. Do you know what could have happened if they had heard you? Do you know how that damn music could have been heard?”

Despite the words he speaks, the tone is monotone, and extremely calm.

“I didn't think...”

You say quietly hugging your legs tighter

“Of course you didn't think.”

With a snort, the man takes the bottle and, without offering you, takes a big sip. He does it in a rather efficient way because you don't even notice when the moment he exposes part of his face to easily take a sip of alcohol without dirtying his balaclava.

“Or maybe this is your way of letting your comrades know where you are, kid?”

“Oh god, seriously, you still don't believe me? I don't have the energy and already have no idea how I can convince you that I came alone.”

You nervously squeeze the material of the blanket while looking through your eyelashes at the figure sitting across from you.

“It's hard to believe that someone like that. Just like you. Was so lucky and had survived unharmed for so long.”

You don't answer him.

You are not ready to recount all the events that took place during those lonely months. Although you want him to trust you, you also partly understand his distrust. It is too soon for you to trust him. You don't really know anything about each other. And his behavior, what you saw in his house. Practically the whole house - a fortress, causes more question marks, more doubts.

“Are you a soldier?”

By asking this question, you hope to find out more and, perhaps, get some answers to nagging questions. You will somehow manage to get closer. You have to start somewhere. Do not persist in this exchange of thoughts about how you got here. Because it doesn't lead to anything.

“I was.”

“Because... because I see that you are well prepared. These supplies. The electricity. That tower.”

The man looks at the bottle he is squeezing in his hands

“Yes. This house was prepared for such a possibility. It is easy to survive here for many more years.”

Slightly you relax and decide to ask another question

“Since you are, you were a military guy. It's true what was said at the time, all those rumors. That you knew much in advance about what was going to happen?”

The man takes another large sip of liquor and gets up from the couch without looking at you.

“The interrogation is over.”

As he walks away, you repeat the words he said in his office last night

“'Interrogation? Ghost. We're just, we're chatting.”

The man stops halfway and, gently nodding, replies somewhere in space.

“Smart ass.”

and you could swear you could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

Day 734-6

The next few days pass just like the previous ones. When you get up the house is already empty despite your best efforts you don't wake up before Ghost and Riley leave on patrol. Without an alarm clock this is a very difficult task. Especially since even though the room is claustrophobic and not too cozy, it is quiet and safe. They cause that every night when you put your head to the pillow you momentarily fall asleep and sleep all night.

Many months of stress and little sleep cause your body to finally give up, and your tired organism finally rests. It allows itself a well-deserved rest.

Everything is a routine. Every day is identical. And that's not the worst part. The worst thing is the fact that every day the man does not even say a single word in your direction. Returning, he locks himself in the office with a bottle while you knock, puts a plate with a meal in front of the door and leaves.

Even in the evening he doesn't come to talk to you. He treats you like air.

And, it's worse than when you were alone.

Finally, the next day when the situation repeats itself. Every action from the previous days is done by a man, as in a fucking routine.

Something finally breaks inside you. This is not why you try, you submit. You do not ask further questions or even question his decision that he keeps you locked up in this house.

However, this quiet and silence on his part, towards you, is something you can't stand.

When you knock once again and this time you don't put a plate in front of the door. You walk away a few steps and stand at the bathroom door waiting for Ghost to open the door to take the plate. And which should, as every day, be on the floor.

After a few minutes you hear the sound of the lock being twisted and the door slowly opens. The man, clearly confused, looks around the hallway.

“I thought maybe we could finally eat together.”

Saying this you turn around and head towards the kitchen.

Hearing quiet footsteps behind, you smile softly with satisfaction.

Dinner goes on in silence, Riley lies under the table near your legs quietly gasping. When he returns with Ghost from each patrol, the dog is visibly tired but definitely satisfied as well.

The man doesn't take his eyes off the plate. Now that you are sitting across from each other you can finally notice a scrap of his face.

The mask is folded up and reveals the lower part of his face. Several days of light beard cover a square jaw and, clearly, a strongly defined jawline, his mouth is wide even, his lower and upper lips are the same width. The lips are even and quite prominent. Despite the mask, you can only see a portion of his face, and despite the scars, you get the impression that there is quite a handsome man hiding under that dark material. Since he has a light beard, you wonder if his hair is light blond or maybe he is a brunette.

“Thanks for the meal.”

You are pulled from your thoughts by the man's low murmur.

“Sure no problem. I make a note of everything I've used up and try to take food with a short shelf life. And those that can spoil quickly.”

Ghost stands up and nods.

“Can I finally go on patrol with you? I'm bored here”.

“Sure, but not tomorrow. The day after tomorrow.”

To your surprise, the man returns from the room after a few moments with a thick and hardcover book. Beside the book, he puts down a bottle and brings two glasses from the kitchen.

He pours the clear liquid and moves one of the glasses toward you, and sits down again, at the table.

Taking a sip, you try not to choke and cough loudly.

You've never been a fan of strong and sharp alcohol. After taking a few more sips, clearing your throat, you finally get up the courage.

“I thought you preferred to spend your evenings alone.”

Saying this, you slide back in your chair to be closer to the man and have a better view of what is written on the paper and in the book open on the table.

“I thought you preferred to be left alone”.

He replies briefly, writing something down on a piece of paper and then reaches for the watch on his wrist.

Another throat-scorching sip of the drink.

“What are you doing?”

You curiously lean over to see better what the man is doing, tilting your head in his direction

“I'm setting the alarm, for the hour when the sunrise and sunset will be tomorrow.”

The man raises his eyes and looks at you. In this light, in the dim room, his eyes appear very dark. Contrasted by his light, long eyelashes, his irises are practically black.

Ghost moves closer to your face, the thick and rough material of his balaclava gently teasing the delicate and sensitive surface of your earlobe. Although his mouth is covered you feel the gentle whiff of his breath on the thin skin of your neck.

“You see. All you have to do is just, ask.”

After these words, Ghost gets up and leaves you alone in the room.

Day 737

Despite the fact that for most of the evening you recreate what Ghost did at the table, sleep comes quickly. Maybe it's the alcohol you drank, or maybe it's just tiredness.

However, just after waking up you still can't forget what happened in the evening.

Only tomorrow is the day that the man promised you that you would go on patrol with him. So now you have to get busy with something. Not only that, you want to prepare as best you can, but you need to occupy your thoughts with something and at least kill the slow-going time a little.

You look through the things prepared by the man for you, study the map you looked at the first day, read. Or you simply look out the window to at least get a little acquainted with the landscape of the neighborhood.

When it is finally time to prepare the meal to your surprise you find cd players and headphones on the kitchen counter.

Perhaps the man has heard you humming quietly to yourself every evening while cleaning the kitchen after eating. Since that fateful day, you haven't dared to put any more music on loudly through the speakers.

After cooking a meal, you remember to try on the shoes that Ghost had already prepared for you on the first day. Your old sneakers were not suitable for any use.

Walking down the corridor with headphones on, you pass another locked door. Finally reaching for your shoes, you put the cd player down on one of the trays in the hallway. And through your own carelessness you knock down an object standing on it. The heavy flashlight falls to the floor with a big noise. You hastily bend down to pick it up and check that you haven't broken it.

When to your satisfaction after pressing the button the flashlight shines with a strong light. Suddenly you hear a sound from somewhere far inside the apartment.

A tapping sound.

A steady one.

Rhythmic.

Pounding as if on metal pipes.  Into the audible surface.

The sound spreads through the house.

A quick

A long

And over and over again.

You slowly turn around and head for the nearest door.

These look slightly different from the others. They are more massive, wider and have more locks. You put your ear to the cold steel door.

Bang.Bang.Bang.

Silence.

Bang.Bang.Bang.

Pause.

With a shaking hand you lift to the handle. However, when you pull on it nothing happens.

The sound doesn't stop, the door doesn't open.

When it finally occurs to you what the sound means from the other side of the hallway you hear a dog barking and the sound of the lock opening.

Ghost is back.

And there is someone in the basement calling for help.

SOS.

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