#white hooded sweatshirt

[detco-hell]

[episode 118 - The Naniwa Serial Murder Case]

[liveurvision]

LUV iz... from METTLE to GOAL'd

[mopopshop]

Home Court Love

Paige Bueckers x Black!Fem OC (Aniyah)

I’m gonna make another part to this bcs I enjoyed it so much. I just love when wlw love wins 💔😓

Words: 6k 

Themes:

slight medical inaccuracies, I’m not a doctor don’t come for me

swearing

slight angst

domestic feels

Aniyah and Paige’s family started with one simple sentence.

————————————————————————

2/4/23

“I’m really tryna start a family with you” Paige mumbles into your (her) sweatshirt, she’s always super clingy and lovey after a win so these words never phase you. 

You roll your eyes playfully, she says stuff like this all the time and every single time your  reactions no different. You smile and nod, knowing she’ll move on to a different topic in about .3 seconds.

“I know, baby” you say back.

She starts to sit up, relaxing on her knees with her hands rubbing up and down your thighs “No like I’m being deadass with you, seriously”

You sit up, resting on your elbows with a surprised smirk “Babe, I know” you chuckle out.

“Do you though? You lookin’ at me like I got two heads or something” 

Paige seems genuine about what she’s saying which makes you sit up even more, crossing your legs. “So you’re.. like being serious?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” she says sounding a bit offended.

“Well you like- say random shit like that all the time? I don’t know- I just didn’t think you were like.. wanting something like that with me” You respond, even though a few of your insecurities peek through your words as you speak.

Paige grabs you by the face with both hands so that your foreheads touch “Aniyah Kamau Omondi, I’d get you pregnant right now if it was biologically possible. I’m being as serious and as real as I can right now, I want you to be the mother of my children.”

You smile from ear to ear after she’s finished talking. Grabbing her face just as she is now you smash your lips onto hers “Then let’s do it.” 

And so began the journey of little baby Gianni.

————————————————————————

4/17/23

The process with IVF was truly a gift from god, the both of you were worried it’d take at least six plus months, maybe even years for you to get pregnant but a short two months later you’d gotten positive results.

You’d always wanted to do one of those intimate “telling my partner i’m pregnant” things so you’d devised the perfect plan. Paige had gone out with the team for a promotional event and texted she’d be out a little later than usual, giving you time to set up your announcement.

You’d went out to target earlier while Paige was at practice, just picking up a simple onesie that stated “Baby On The Way! - Jan. 2024”. You’d folded the small onesie up into a box, covering the item of clothing with white tissue paper and on top of that adding a thin piece of paper that said “Surprise!”. Nothing extraordinary or extravagant but it was enough for the to of you and that’s what mattered.

Anxiously waiting for Paige to return home was hell on earth and your hormones were already starting to go all wonky. 

Finally you hear the apartment door click open from you and Paige’s bedroom. Quickly hiding the box in your bedside drawer and waiting for Paige to make her way to your room.

“ ‘Sup, mama’s” she said as she strolled through the door, pulling her hood down and unzipping her UCONN jacket.

“Hey, love how was that event thingy you went to?” You say trying to hide your nerves.

Paige, the entirely clueless girl that she is, tells you about the event just recalling that it was slow and sort of boring. Speaking about this while walking around the room getting undressed and ready to lay down.

“….But yeah that was basically it” she finishes, plopping down next to you on the bed. Her head slightly propped up against the headboard while one of her hands goes to rub your thigh. “Oh my god but babe there was this one bit that Ines and Aubrey were doing-“ she starts chuckling but you and your nerves can’t take it anymore.

“Okay babe, not to interrupt but I got you a gift and I really want you to open it… like right now” You rush out. 

“Ooh a gift” she teases “Is it those Curry’s i’ve been yapping about” she jokes again.

Reaching into your drawer you pull out the small box, not really reacting to the jokes she made. 

“… Okay now i’m nervous” she says wearily eyeing the box due to your lack of response. Still plucking it from your hands and lifting the top.

You hold your breath waiting for a response.

“Surprise? Baby wh-“

“Just open it, god damn” 

Raising her hands in a surrender motion she responds “Okay, okay”

Carefully removing the white tissue paper to uncover the onesie, she hasn’t read the front of it yet as it was folded in a way to hide the message on the piece of clothing. She fully takes the onesie out letting it unravel and reading the front.

Her eye’s quickly fogging up and filling with tears “Baby yo- you’re being serious? Like you’re not fucking with me?” Her voice cracks as she struggles to finish her sentence.

You in a similar state and ready to burst into tears just shake your head a simple ‘no’ before you both lunge at each other to embrace.

Your arms wrapping around her neck and hers winding themselves around your waist.  

“Oh my god we’re gonna be parents” she breathes into your neck. You still haven’t ceased your crying so you just aggressively nod into the crook of her neck. 

————————————————————————

The next few months are spent in beautiful domestic bliss. Paige being the best partner you could ask for by always being there to help you, cleaning, cooking, driving you anywhere you ask and just basically waiting on you hand and foot.

When it comes to telling family the both of you agree on telling them through zoom rather than having to travel all the way back to Illinois and Minnesota. Of course everyone’s happy for you and their reactions are priceless but not as funny as when you tell the team.

When Paige and you finally break it to them after practice one day the screams could be heard from literally every corner of Connecticut. Ines and Ashlynn take off running throughout the stands screaming and hugging each other. Q and Aubrey are just as insane, running all the way to the locker rooms and back. Ice, Azzi, and KK are swarming Paige almost immediately while Nika, Amari, Caroline, Aaliyah, Jana, and Ayanna are surrounding you in the sweetest and most gentle group hug. It honestly brings tears to your eyes. 

And of course you all go out to celebrate after, the girls not hesitating to tell any person they passed that you were pregnant, which ends up getting you guys a free meal + drinks (non-alcoholic obviously).

(Later that night Paige put out an official announcement on her instagram and twitter about the pregnancy, letting the world and her fans know what was going on)

————————————————————————

8/7/23

When it comes time to find out the gender (so around four months into your pregnancy) you and Paige decide you want a gender reveal. She seemed more excited about it than you did, she’d been obsessing over the gender since the day she found out about the pregnancy. She didn’t even care whether it was a boy or girl she was just so insanely impatient that it kept her up at night.

With the help of the team and your best friends Leilani and Dawn you guys had come to the decision to let everyone else do the work for planning the reveal, giving you and Paige time to relax and focus more on the baby. Letting you and Paige’s friends have full creative liberty for the party was the best thing you could’ve done as the girls went all out. 

You and Paige stood hand in hand in the center of the park that they’d rented out, surrounded by your closest friends and family that had flown out to witness this moment. You’d shown up in a off the shoulder, white, maternity dress that fell just above the knee while Paige came clad in a short sleeved white button up and khaki pants, she’d let her hair down and curled it a bit which was a nice touch. Excitement buzzed in the air as everyone eagerly awaited the reveal of the baby's gender.

The girls had orchestrated the perfect setup, with off-white balloons filling the sky and a large box wrapped in pink and blue ribbons placed in front of the couple.

You couldn't help but feel a wave of nervousness wash over you as the moment drew closer. Paige, on the other hand, was practically bouncing with anticipation, her eyes sparkling with excitement and cheesing from ear to ear. 

By now everyone had gathered around the two of you waiting for the reveal but first you and Paige wanted to say a few nice words. 

Clearing your throat you got everyone’s attention while Paige placed a hand on the small of your back.

"Hey y’all!, thank you all for being here today. Paige and I are beyond grateful for your love and support as we go on this journey into parenthood. I just wanted to thank the team, love you girls, my family and Paige’s for flying all the way out here to share this with us, and my girlfriends since childhood for setting this whole thing up for us. We appreciate you so deeply and whether it's a boy or a girl, we know this baby is already surrounded by so much love because of all of you. Here's to the next chapter of our lives, filled with joy, love, and endless adventures. Cheers!" 

Everyone claps smiling as Paige starts to speak.

“Um.. yeah what she said. Now let’s rip this thing open” She teases, referencing the box. “No but yeah, seriously thank y’all for the support, we couldn’t have done it without this village you’ve surrounded us with. From the bottom of our hearts me and Aniyah love each and every one of you so thanks again” 

“Yeah yeah we appreciate you too, now open the damn box girl!” Paige’s mom yells excitedly from the crowd, holding her phone up and ready to record.

Everyone laughs once again but with a shared glance, you and Paige count down together, your voices mingling with the cheers of your loved ones. "Three, two, one..."

As the box was opened, a flurry of pink balloons burst forth, drifting up into the sky. The crowd erupted into cheers and applause, surrounding the couple with hugs and congratulations.

You feel tears of joy streaming down your cheeks as Paige wraps you in a tight embrace, arms locked around your baby bump whispering words of love and excitement into your ear.

————————————————————————

 8/22/23-11/19/23

The months that come next are followed up with the normal milestones, buying furniture, buying clothes, picking names, painting the room, prepping the baby bag etc. etc. 

Which of course the two of you bicker about.

—

*flashback*

“Babe I’m not buying our daughter a onesie with just Kyrie Irving’s face on it”

Paige’s currently slumped over the shopping cart in target, pouting over this stupid onesie.

“But whyyy…” she whines 

“ ‘Cause.” You respond back, short and firm.

“You hate me” she sighs out as she reluctantly goes to place it back on the shelf.

—

Even with all the good fortune and domestic bliss surrounding you, you still had quite a bit of anxiety when it came to the actual process of giving birth. You had asked your own mother for help and she recommended that you read a few books on it because in her own words “the second I started reading those things, all doubts just flew out the window” but now as you sit on the bed, Paige’s hoodie surrounding your frame and back agains the headboard, your hands won’t stop trembling while you flip through the pages of the childbirth book in your lap. No matter how hard you try, you can't shake the fear that grips your heart and all you can do is sit there with tears flooding your eyes. 

You had tried to read while Paige was out for practice but clearly underestimated how quick she’d be in and out.

“Baby I’m home!” She yells from the hall.

Quickly scrubbing at your flushed face you respond back, voice cracking “I’m- I’m in here” 

Paige enters the room, her eyes softening as she takes in your tense posture, knowing something’s wrong. Without a word, she crosses the room and sits down beside you, placing her hands on your thighs, rubbing comforting circles up and down them. 

"Hey," Paige murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple. "What's on your mind, mama?"

You let out a shaky breath, leaning into Paige's embrace. "I'm just... like- really scared," you admit, your voice barely above a whisper. "Scared of giving birth, scared of what's going to happen. And my mom tried recommending these stupid ass books to- calm me down or whatever but all it’s doing is adding more weight to my shoulders” 

Paige's heart aches at the vulnerability in your voice. She tightens her hands on your legs, offering silent reassurance. "It's okay to be scared, baby," she says softly. "But you're not alone. I'm here for you, every step of the way."

Tears prick at your eyes again as you bury your face in Paige's shoulder, her warmth enveloping you. "I just don't know if I can do this, like I really thought I was but the closer it gets to my due date I just feel like- like i’m gonna find some way to fuck it up” you admit, your voice muffled.

Paige pulls back slightly, cupping your face in her hands and guiding you to meet her gaze. "Baby you are strong, like strong strong.” She chuckles “You’ve gone through more than I ever have, and you still find a way to be the most passionate, caring, loving woman I’ve ever met” she says earnestly, her eyes locking with yours. "Trust me when I say you can do anything. I believe in you."

A flicker of hope ignites within you as you gaze into Paige's eyes, seeing nothing but unwavering love and support. With a shaky sigh, you lean forward, resting your forehead against hers.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice filled with gratitude. "For always being there for me, for making this process so easy"

Paige brushes a gentle kiss against your lips, her touch soft and tender. "I love you," she murmurs against your mouth. "And I'll be right here, holding your hand through it all."

“I love you more” you breathe out closing the gap between you two again. 

————————————————————————

12/28/23

It’s three days after Christmas and your due date is quickly approaching. Even though your doctor said the baby’s due date was January, she could come at any time. 

Paige had been walking on eggshells around you, ready to drop everything and grab that baby bag at any moment but it made it extremely hard for her when all she had was practice and games. Paige tried to take you to most of them so she’d at least know where you were but understood when your feet were especially sore or your back ached. 

Today had been a particularly hard day, you’d been having Braxton-hicks pretty consistently for about a week or so and they were even worse today, the baby was doing triple backflips on every part of your insides and your feet couldn’t have been more swollen. Paige was very reluctant to go to her game today, seriously considering calling Geno and letting him know that the baby might come. You know Paige is one to overreact and you tell her you’ll be fine and you won’t be alone as Dawn and Leilani were still in town and wanted to hang out at yours. 

Eventually Paige gets ready to head out not before kissing you deeply, rubbing her hand on your bump. “Do not hesitate to call up the team managers if something happens, seriously” she gives you a stern look.

You, loving how overprotective she is just stare back up at her lovingly “Yes, yes I will” 

“Baby I’m being dead fucking serious, look me in my eyes and tell me you will. Actually you know what? I’m not going, I have a bad feeling about this and i’m not playing today, I’m gonna call Coach again. I need to be here if anyt-“ she starts rambling, pulling her phone from her duffel but you quickly interrupt her with a kiss, grabbing her wrist and putting her phone right back where it was.

“Babe.” you stare at her as she doesn’t respond breathing nervously “I’m fine, and everything will be fine if you just go ahead and leave already. It’s like you’re tryna make yourself late” 

“But baby-“ she argues back, you two continue like this and after about ten more minutes of going back and forth you finally get her out of the house.

Dawn and Leilani finally arrive, they let themselves in and have not arrived empty handed. They drag in bags of your favorite snacks, blankets and drinks for the three of you. 

You’ve all settled into the couch and Paige’s game has just finished the first quarter when you start to feel those intense sharp pains again, almost like Braxton-hicks but stronger. You try to get back to a comfortable position during commercial break and the girl’s notice you fidgeting around.  

“You okay, Niyah?” Dawn questions.

“No yeah!- I’m fine” you shift again “baby girls just sitting weird” trying to brush it off and turn their attention back to the TV. 

“… uh huh, okay” Leilani responds with an unsure tone and giving Dawn an “ikyfl” look.

The pain continues throughout the second quarter and halftime, the girls are still eyeing you wearily as they can see you’re in pain. Dawn asks again and again if you’re doing well and again and again you tell her you’re fine. The third quarter starts up and not even two minutes in does a sudden sharp pain shoot through your abdomen. You gasp, clutching your stomach as another wave of pain hits you. Dawn and Leilani’s necks snapping with how fast they turn to you you, concern etched on their faces.

"Aniyah, seriously are you okay? and girl don’t lie to my ass again” Dawn asks, her voice filled with worry.

You try to speak, but the pain intensifies, making it hard to form words. Leilani rushes to your side, placing a hand on your back.

"Yeah hun, we need to get you to the hospital," she says, her voice steady despite the urgency of the situation.

“N-no, I’m fine..” you take a deep labored breath in “…seriously it’s not that bad it’s probably just Bra-“ and you can’t even finish your sentence as a third wave of pain hits you, causing you to grip your knees and drop your head. 

The room starts to spin as panic threatens to overwhelm you. Despite your attempts to remain calm, the pain feels unbearable, and the fear of giving birth without Paige by your side grips you like a vice.

"Aniyah, we need to go," Leilani says firmly, her voice cutting through the fog of panic that clouds your mind.

But you shake your head, the thought of facing labor alone filling you with a paralyzing dread. Tears blur your vision as you struggle to find the strength to stand, your heart pounding in your chest.

"I can't- I can’t do this without her," you whisper, the words catching in your throat as the next contraction hits you like a freight train.

Dawn moves closer, her hand reaching out to grasp yours in a gesture of solidarity. "We'll get you there, Niyah," she says softly, her voice filled with determination. "We won't let you go through this alone and we’ll get Paige okay? Everything’s gonna be fine, you’re gonna have a safe and healthy delivery but the only way we can do that is if we get you to the hospital”

You nod and with their support, you manage to rise to your feet, leaning heavily on Leilani as you make your way to the door. Every step feels like an eternity, the pain radiating through your body with each movement.

Outside, the world seems to blur as you're guided into the waiting car, the urgency of the situation pressing down on you like a weight. Leilani slides into the driver's seat, her hands steady on the wheel as she navigates through the streets towards the hospital. You can faintly hear through the ringing in your ears that Dawn’s in the back seat calling the UCONN team manager to somehow find a way to get Paige to the hospital. Immediately. 

————————————————————————

(I wanted to include Paige’s perspective) 

Paige isn’t on her best game as of right now, even though UCONN’s winning she doesn’t feel like she’s really focused on what’s happening. All she can think about is you at home, rooting for her from the couch. 

UCONN’s up by seven by halftime and when she heads back to the locker room to check her phone she’s surprised and honestly a bit worried to see there’s been no recent texts from you. She has no time to stress over it though as Geno rushes the team over to talk strategy. 

Once he’s finished Paige jogs back to her phone to check her texts and they’re still empty. She sends a quick “Everything okay bby?” before dropping her phone back in her bag, not even checking to see if it sent (which it does not as the locker room wifi is straight ass). 

Third quarter starts and the team is on a roll, chemistry at an all time high, handing out three’s and assists like crazy. 

Around five minutes in, Nika has the ball and runs it up the court and towards the basket, she goes in for a layup but turns at the last second to pass it to Paige who stands at the three-point line. She goes to shoot, quickly glancing at the bench to see the team manager on the phone and a few other staff huddled around Geno, which wouldn’t be strange if they weren’t glancing up at Paige every two seconds. 

She lets go of the ball. Miss

Geno immediately calls a timeout.

The team rushes over out of breath and Geno pulls Paige off to the side with the team manager as he lets the assistant coach give feedback to the other girls.

The team manager still has the phone pressed to his ear, sharing panicked and hushed whispers with whoever’s on the other side of the device.

“-aige! Paige! Hello?” Coach’s been snapping his fingers in front of her face for a minute now, she hasn’t noticed that Geno subbed her out for another player and the timeouts been over. All she can do is glare at the phone, letting her thoughts overtake her. 

“Huh?” she replies out of breath still staring at the manager.

“It’s about Aniyah”

that immediately grabs her attention.

“What’s wrong?”

“She’s in labor..” 

“Are you fucking serious? Since when??” she doesn’t mean to swear at coach but there’s no way they’ve been keeping this from her.

“Not long! not long” he reassures “it’s been about fifteen minutes since they left the hou-“

“Fifteen god damn minutes? Coach are you serious, I need to go. Like now” she turns to run to the locker room but Geno grips her wrist.

“I’m not trying to stop you from going so calm down first” he says noticing the immediate scowl on her face “Just wishing you good luck, kid” and pats her shoulder approvingly, nodding her off to the lockers.

By now everyone’s noticed that UCONN’s star player has left the court so by the time the manager escorts her back to the locker rooms there’s tons of media standing at the doors. She shoves past them and into the locker room, ripping off her uniform, and storming back out. Thankfully security has moved them from the doors so she’s able to make a quick exit. 

She throws her bag in the back of her car and hops into the front seat. Gripping the steering wheel knowing her life won’t ever be the same after today.

————————————————————————

As the car speeds towards your destination, you find yourself clinging to the hope that Paige will arrive in time, that she'll be there to hold your hand and offer you the strength you so desperately need. But with each passing moment, the fear gnaws at you, threatening to consume you entirely.

By the time you reach the hospital, you're trembling with a mixture of pain and fear, your heart racing as you're wheeled into the maternity ward. The nurses swarm around you, their voices a blur as they prepare you for the impending birth.

Your nurse, Jada, escorts you to your room promising she’ll be back in a minute to help you get more situated. She leaves, finally giving you a minute to breathe, Dawn helps you out of the wheelchair and lets you waddle your way to the hospital bed. Dawn helps you remove your crocs and scoots behind you to put your braids into a a wonky looking ponytail.  Leilani’s currently downstairs waiting for Paige to arrive so she can show her to your room. 

As Dawn finishes securing your braids into a makeshift pony, she notices the worry etched across your face. She places a gentle hand on your back, offering a reassuring squeeze.

"You're doing great, hun," Dawn says softly, her voice laced with empathy. "I know this is overwhelming, but you're so strong. And remember, Paige is on her way. She'll be here soon."

You nod, grateful for Dawn's comforting words, but the panic still lingers beneath the surface. "What if something goes wrong? What if I can't do this?"

Dawn's expression softens even further as she meets your gaze. "Hey, listen to me," she says firmly. "You can do this. You're a fighter, Niyah. And Paige will be here before you know it. We're all rooting for you."

Just then, Jada returns, her warm smile offering a small sense of reassurance. "Alright, let's get you settled in," she says, wheeling over a bedside table and helping you adjust the pillows behind your back.

You try to lighten the mood by making a joke as you lay back “Paige’s gonna be pissed at me, she had a feeling the baby was coming today” I chuckle lightly. 

“You already know her ass is gonna bust in here on some hero shit” Dawn laughs back.

You go to laugh at her joke but are quickly cut off by an extra strong contraction. It forces you to double over your belly and reach out for Dawn’s hand, she rushes to your side as you squeeze so hard your knuckles turn white. This contraction is particularly strong and it draws a long groan from your lips as you continue to hold on to Dawn for support. 

In the midst of the chaos, you hear the sound of quick footsteps approaching, as the contraction dies down you turn to see Paige rushing towards you, her eyes wide with concern and love, Leilani trailing after. 

"I’m here baby, I’m here" she says, her voice filled with relief as Dawn moves from you to have Paige replace her. 

Paige is there to comfort you for a while but the contractions get worse with every minute that passes. Your body aches and you feel like your bodies already been through labor a hundred times.

As the pain of the contractions intensifies, you find yourself gasping for breath, each wave of agony threatening to overwhelm you entirely. Despite Dawn's reassuring presence by your side, the pain is relentless, leaving you feeling desperate for relief.

With tears of frustration pooling in your eyes, you turn to Paige, your voice trembling with exhaustion. "I don't know if I can do this anymore," you whisper, your words barely audible over the sound of your labored breathing.

Paige's heart breaks at the sight of your distress, her expression filled with love and concern as she reaches out to gently stroke your hair. "it's okay, mamas” she murmurs soothingly, her voice a comforting presence amidst the chaos. "You're doing so good, you wanna get that epidural now?” she leans down to kiss your cheek.

You’ve been trying to hold back tears this whole time, trying to put up a front for everyone but when Paige asks you that question the dam breaks and you burst into tears.

You nod a ‘yes’ “I-I’m not like- weak for that right..?” You hiccup out in between sobs. 

It absolutely destroys Paige’s heart seeing so upset “No love, not at all” , she leans in closer, her warm breath brushing against your cheek. "Let's get you some relief, okay?" she suggests softly, her gaze unwavering as she meets your eyes. "You deserve to feel comfortable, and that doesn’t take away how brave you are for doing any of this in the first place"

With Paige's words ringing in your ears, you nod, a sense of gratitude washing over you. As the medical team prepares to administer the epidural, Paige stays by your side, her hand firmly clasped in yours as you ready yourself for the procedure.

As the needle pierces your skin, a sharp pang of discomfort shoots through your body, but Paige's steady presence offers a sense of grounding amidst the pain. With each passing moment, you feel the tension slowly melt away, replaced by a profound sense of relief and gratitude.

As the effects of the epidural begin to take hold, you sink back against the pillows, your body finally able to relax after hours of relentless agony.

You get in an hour or two of sleep before Jada comes back in to check your dilation.

“We’re at an eight right now, moms. Nearing a nine, I’d say baby girl’s ready to pop in the next two hours” she smiles, getting up from her stool and pulling off her gloves.

You groan at the sound of two more hours of this and you can feel the epidural slowly starting to wear off. Paige smiles lightly, squeezing your hand as she’s sat in chair that she pulled up to your bed.

“I know, I know” Jada sympathizes, she smiles asking if you guys need anything before she goes. When nobody says anything she reminds that she’ll be back within the hour. 

“I seriously can’t do another two hours, babe” you try to joke but the thought brings tears to your eyes again. “and i’m so fucking sick of crying! that’s all i’ve been doing for literally like the past six hours, and I’m hungry” you scrub hard at your eyes with the back of your hands and pout. 

“I know ma, I know, I told you I’d order a bunch of shit from wherever you want after the baby comes” she smiles rubbing your knuckles.

Still pouting you respond “You better hold up on that promise too” 

She chuckles a bit harder this time nodding. Her phone buzzes from where it lays next to your leg on the bed, she picks it up checking her messages and her face immediately breaks into a smile.

“The teams here, they wanted to talk to you real quick before the baby comes. Want me to go grab ‘em?” 

You nod tiredly, over the years you’ve been with Paige those girls have been nothing short of sisters to you and them coming to see you at the hospital warms your heart to no end. 

A short while later the girls shuffle in, staying in the corner of the room to talk to you and Paige (Dawn and Leilani left to grab you and Paige some stuff from the apartment). It’s sweet that they keep a distance, like they think they’ll hurt the baby by just entering your space bubble but towards the end of the conversation the epidural’s fully wore off and Paige let’s the girls know, sending them away with hugs and promising updates. 

Paige comforts you about an hour longer when you start to feel like you need to push. You tell Paige and she quickly calls for Jada to come back in. As the medical team springs into action, Jada returns with a sense of urgency, followed closely by a team of delivery nurses and a doctor. Their focused expressions convey a sense of readiness as they prepare for the imminent arrival of your baby.

Paige remains steadfast by your side, her grip on your hand unwavering as she offers words of encouragement and reassurance. With each passing moment, the intensity of the contractions builds, urging you to push with all your strength.

With each push, you can feel yourself getting more and more tired than the last. You feel like you’ve been pushing for hours at this point and you’re getting nowhere.

“I- I can’t..” You sob out “Paigey, I don’t wanna do it anymore.” 

Paige's heart breaks at the sound of your distress, her own eyes filling with tears as she watches you struggle. With a gentle touch, she brushes away your tears, her voice soft and soothing as she speaks.

"You're doing amazing, baby," she murmurs, her voice filled with love and encouragement. "I understand how tired you are. You've been so strong, but it's okay to feel overwhelmed. We’re here for you, okay love? Just a few more pushes I know you got it in you” 

As the medical team continues to offer support and guidance, Paige leans in close, her forehead resting against yours as she offers words of comfort.

"You're not alone, baby," she whispers, her voice a gentle reassurance in the midst of the chaos. "We're in this together, and I'll be right here by your side, no matter what."

With renewed determination, fueled by Paige’s words and the medical team. With each push, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your body, propelling you closer to the moment of your baby's arrival.

And then, finally, after what feels like an eternity of struggle and perseverance, you feel the unmistakable sensation of your baby. With one final push, a rush of overwhelming emotion washes over you as you hear the cries of your newborn filling the room.

Tears of relief and joy stream down your face as Paige's grip tightens on your hand, her own eyes shining with unshed tears. As the nurses clean up baby Gianni, you and Paige eagerly anticipate the moment when you can hold her close for skin-to-skin contact. With each passing second, your hearts swell with anticipation, longing to feel the warmth of your newborn against your own skin.

Finally, the moment arrives as the nurses carefully place baby Gianni back into your waiting arms. With trembling hands, you cradle her against your chest, feeling the weight of her tiny body nestled against you. Paige's eyes shimmer with unshed tears as she leans in close, her hand resting gently on Gianni's back as she marvels at the sight before her.

"She's perfect," Paige whispers, her voice filled with awe and wonder. "Absolutely perfect."

You nod in agreement, unable to tear your gaze away from the precious baby in your arms.

After you've had your precious moments of skin-to-skin contact with baby Gianni, you turn to look up at Paige as she has stood to her full height to admire the two of you together. You can see her staring at Gianni, itching to touch her again.

“Babe? You wanna hold her?” 

She’s still holding back tears so she silently nods, going to take off her shirt leaving her in a regular black sports bra. She sits back in the chair next to your bed and with gentle hands, you carefully pass Gianni into Paige's waiting arms, a soft smile gracing both of your faces as you witness the profound connection between mother and child.

Paige's eyes glisten with unshed tears as she cradles Gianni against her chest, her touch tender and loving as she gazes down at her newborn daughter. As Gianni snuggles closer to Paige, a sense of peace settles over the room, the bond between mother and child palpable in the air. 

————————————————————————

12/28/23

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, casting a warm glow over the hospital room where you and Paige are nestled with baby Gianni. As you watch your precious daughter sleep peacefully in her bassinet, a sense of contentment washes over you, filling the room with an aura of tranquility.

Suddenly, there's a gentle knock on the door, followed by the sound of excited voices. With a smile, you glance over at Paige, anticipation dancing in your eyes as you both know who's about to walk in.

As the door opens, Dawn and Leilani, step into the room, their faces beaming with joy and excitement. They crowd around the bassinet, their voices a chorus of admiration as they coo over baby Gianni.

"She's so tiny!" Dawn exclaims, her eyes sparkling with delight as she reaches out to gently stroke Gianni's cheek.

Leilani nods in agreement, her expression filled with awe. "She's so freakin perfect, just like her moms."

Your best friends coo over her a bit more before saying their goodbyes, leaving with a hug.

The next people to knock on the door are the UCONN team, Paige beams with pride as she introduces Gianni to her teammates, a sense of pride evident in every word she speaks. With each passing moment, the room fills with laughter and conversation, the camaraderie between friends adding to the warmth of the moment.

But the excitement doesn't end there. Soon after, both yours and Paige's families arrive, their faces alight with anticipation as they prepare to meet their newest member.

As they enter the room, their eyes light up at the sight of Gianni, their voices filling the air with expressions of joy and wonder. Tears of happiness glisten in your mother's eyes as she reaches out to cradle her granddaughter in her arms, her heart overflowing with love.

Paige's parents are equally ecstatic, their smiles wide as they shower Gianni with kisses and affection. In that moment, surrounded by the love and support of your families, you feel a sense of gratitude wash over you, knowing that Gianni is already surrounded by so much love.

As the morning unfolds, the room fills with laughter and conversation, the joy of new beginnings permeating every corner. Together, you and Paige watch as Gianni is welcomed into the embrace of your families, knowing that she is already cherished beyond measure.

In the quiet moments that follow, you take a moment to soak in the love and happiness that fills the room, grateful for the journey that has brought you to this moment. With Gianni in your arms and Paige by your side, you know that your family is complete. 

[bangtaninborderland]

MYG- I love you eternally.

Summary: he hasn't been gone long but the space he left behind consumes you, thankfully you aren't ever really alone.

Genre: hurt/comfort, angst, sad fic, happy ending, COMFORT

A/N: this came to me after seeing an edit on tiktok of yoongi clips to fine line by harry styles (deffo listen as you read it makes you cry) this is very self indulgent. I miss yoongi an awful lot, he was my comfort person and it sucks that I can’t stop crying.

BTS Masterlist

The sound of knuckles tapping on the door pulled you out of your trance, you hadn’t even realised the movie you’d put on had finished, nor that your phone had been receiving numerous calls for the past god knows how long.

Reluctantly you shove off the blanket you had wrapped around you, it was a gift from Yoongi one winter when it was far too cold to sit in just clothing. The door is only a few steps away from the couch so it doesn’t take you long to finally open it.

“I brought foo-“Namjoon's mouth rounds into an ‘o’ shape. “You were crying.”

“Was I?” You frown reaching up to touch your face, sure enough, it was damp from the tears you’d shed. “Sorry, I was just a little out of it.”

“Let’s go inside?” He asks, raising the white bag up a little higher to remind you of the food he brought.

“Oh yeah, of course.” You shake your head stepping aside to let him pass. “I’m not really hungry.”

“Have you eaten today?” He asks, pulling out some plates.

You slump back onto the couch, pulling the blanket around you before shoving your face into the hood of the sweatshirt you’d stolen from Yoongis's closet. The smell comforts you. “I don’t know, I had breakfast or was it lunch…” you trail off, half-heartedly trying to recount your day.

“You can’t let yourself fall apart YN. Hyung will be worried.” He looks at you with a hint of concert as he passes you a plate of food. “Let’s watch something?”

“I- uh.” You really can’t stand the idea of noise right now. “Maybe not tonight?”

“Of course. What did you do today?” He questions, sitting on the other end of the couch, his own plate balanced on his thighs.

“Not much, I watched TV and read a chapter of the book yoon gave me.” You dug the spoon into the food, not really attempting to eat.

It wasn’t your fault you had no appetite.

“Was the book good?” He asked in between a mouthful.

“It… I don’t really know… I couldn’t get into it.” You shrug, bringing the spoon to your mouth.

“It’s 5 pm and you haven’t done anything today have you?” Namjoon sets his plate aside in favour of moving closer to you.

“I miss him.” You mumble, putting your own plate on the table.

Yoongi would have scolded you if he were here, always complaining that it would mark the table despite the fact you always used hear absorbent dinner trays but that was the problem…

Yoongi wasn’t here.

You don’t know what exactly caused it but within a second you were bursting into tears, everything you’d managed to hold together ever since he left a week ago falling apart. “I miss him, I don’t even get to fucking call him.”

“I know.” Namjoon shushes you as he brings your head to his shoulder in an attempt to comfort you. “I’m so sorry this must be hard for you.”

“It was so short notice he didn’t even tell m-me.” You hiccuped, bordering between the lines of angry and sad was never a good place to be but you couldn’t help it.

Yoongi had waited until the last possible moment to tell you he had received his enlistment date and when he had received it he was shocked to see a date only 4 days away giving you absolutely no time to mentally prepare yourself for him to be gone.

“It’s so fucking unfair.” You cuss, unable to do anything else with your anger at the situation.

Namjoon didn’t say anything, he couldn’t, he himself knew how ridiculously unfair it was but still, he didn’t regret the group's choice, it was the only right way to deal with the situation. “It will pass quicker than you think. You won’t be alone.”

“Joon soon enough you, Tae, Jimin and Jungkook are enlisting too. It’s not exactly like anyone else knows about me and Yoongi. Other people just don’t understand it.” Yoongi had made a joke two days before he left telling you to cry with other armys about it because they would understand but it was looking more and more appealing as the days went past. “I don’t know what to do with myself.”

Another wave of tears came just seconds later and this time there was no reprieve, anytime you nearly stopped a memory of him would pop into your mind and the tears would start again. You hated how it made you seem crazy, seem overly obsessive but you knew Yoongi would be missing you just as much. You’d become each other strength in all the years you’d been together so now he wasn’t here, wasn’t just a phone call away, it felt like you’d lost a part of yourself, it felt like you’d lost your strength.

That’s how you fell asleep, curled in Namjoon's arms, sobbing in longing for the man who taught you how to love.

Namjoon waited until he was sure you were fast asleep before slipping out from underneath you, draping the gifted blanket over you as he tiptoed to the balcony to take his incoming call.

“Hyung.” Namjoon smiles into the phone. “How are you?”

“As good as I can be, you didn’t tell her right?”

“No Hyung. Are you sure we really can’t tell her about you-“

“No Namjoon-ah I don’t want to get her hopes up, that will only hurt her more if it doesn’t get approved. I’ll tell her if she knows I can call and I don’t want to do that to her. How is she? How are you? ”

“I’m okay.” Namjoon responds. “She misses you.” He continues, not going u into depth about the small breakdown.

“I miss her too.” He breathes, his voice a little strained in the way it gets when he is very obviously holding back tears. “Is she eating?”

Namjoon nodded before realising Yoongi couldn’t see him. “I brought her food she just seemed sad. Are you eating Hyung? Sleeping enough?”

Yoongi laughs as though Namjoon has said something absurd. “The food is shit. I’ve got this fucking melody stuck in my head and I just know it would sound amazing for the vocal line.”

“Ah, Hyung.” Namjoon laughs. “I’ll tell them I’m sure they would appreciate the fact you’re thinking about making their songs already.”

“I’ll probably forget it by the time I’m actually allowed to work on music.” Yoongi huffs.

“I doubt it.” Namjoon hears shuffling, already knowing it’s you. “I have to go Hyung she’s waking up.”

“Make sure she knows I love her okay? I’ll call you again to let you know if it’s approved.” Yoongi rushes out before Namjoon hangs up.

“What are you doing?” You ask him, shivering at the draft coming from the open door.

“Sorry.” He smiles, stepping back inside and closing it behind him. “Just needed some air. So… how about watching something?”

You don’t hate the idea as much as you did earlier, your little thirty-minute nap helping you feel a little better. “Sure.”

You watch 3 episodes of some drama before declaring it a night, Namjoon insisting you eat before he left which led to you both eating an oversized pizza. It leaves you feeling a little less lonely, especially when he tells you just how much he too misses Yoongi.

Namjoon comes over again three more times that week, each day following the same pattern. The days he didn’t come you resigned yourself to laying in bed, looking through pictures and videos you and Yoongi had taken in the past few months.

Today was one of those days, those days where you missed him so much and felt so alone that you’d texted Namjoon not to come, told him you just couldn’t deal with being around anyone else right now, so it surprised you when the doorbell rang consistently for five minutes until you finally gave in.

You groaned, shivering as the floor felt cold against your bare feet. “Namjoon I said not to-

“You really shouldn’t lay in bed every day.”

You froze, too afraid to move, speak or blink in case the figure in front of you disappeared.

“Baby.” He sighed, dropping his bag inside the door before pushing you inside lightly. “It’s me.”

“Fuck.” You sobbed, wrapping your arms around him as tight as you could. “You’re here. How are you here.”

He laughed, the sound of it melodic to your ears. “I did extra time so my training finished earlier. They could t exactly say no.”

“I just- I can’t believe you’re here I thought it would be at least another three weeks before I could even call you.” You bring your hands up to his hair, despite it being short you still love it. “I missed you.”

“Baby don’t cry I’m here now.” He sucked in a breath, his own eyes pooling with tears. “I get to stay for four days.”

“Really?” You pull back to look at him properly, a grin breaking out as he nods.

“Really.”

Despite the tears trailing down your lips he leans in to kiss you, his hand at the small of your back a comforting presence. “I love you.”

“I love you too Yoon.”

The next four days passed much faster than you would have liked but as you dropped him off at the camp again things felt different.

You hated how quiet the house was without him, where he would normally be playing piano, watching a new show jimin had recommended or cooking with a glass of whiskey in his hand, there was nothing but silence.

You were almost ready to give in to your tears again until you spotted a letter on the kitchen counter.

The perfect writing on the envelope already tells you who it’s from, you don’t hesitate in pulling out the paper and reading it.

Hello, my love,

I snuck away to write this whilst you slept, I’m not the best with words although I’m sure by now you’re absolutely aware of that but still there are only things that can be conveyed by words. If I was allowed to I’d write you a hundred songs but I’m a little short on time so I hope this suffices.

I want you to know just how much you mean to me, just how much your presence has brought me happiness, strength and comfort. You often thank me for giving you strength but you forget that you are the sole reason I keep going.

You cannot let the bad days consume you, although it’s okay to give up and take a break, you can’t let that feeling consume you. There is always a tomorrow, always another chance and I know that you will never ever fail because I don’t believe in failure, every attempt is precious, and every time you try to get up - even if it isn’t successful - is precious and I am so proud of you for it.

In the moments you miss me do something nice for yourself, eat a good meal, read a book you like, watch a movie you find brings you happiness and before you realise it I’ll be back, spending every moment possible with you because you are my home.

I will always be here, write me letters, send me messages, take pictures of the things you see and do and share them with me. I’ll always be apart of your life, I’m not going anywhere.

I love you eternally.

You wiped away your tears, holding the letter close as though it were him. You let the words sink in and silently you made a promise.

You’d keep going and do the best you could, you’ll be the best version of yourself when he returns because he gave you the ability to grow much like water does a flower.

And even if you couldn’t say it to him, you were sure he knew…

You loved him eternally too.

[powderpinkandsweeet]

Loser Ellie x Reader

Loser! Ellie makes me drool. Like I had never thought I would be attracted to the idea of something so perverse, depraved, and almost creepy.

Wlw, loser Ellie, suggestive but not nsfw, Ellie follows you around, Owen slander.

In a University AU, Ellie is praying to anyone and everyone listening that she will be paired with you for the final project. Just her luck, you get paired with some douche named Owen who keeps eye contact with your tits more often than your eyes.

Ellie needs to work on her own project with her partner she can't recall the name of, but she overhears where and when you and Owen are going to meet to start your project. Surely you wouldn't notice if she were there?

That's how Ellie finds herself sitting on a barstool in the corner of a trendy cafe, hood pulled low over her head and peeking over the top of the comic book obscuring the lower half of her face. You and Owen sit across from one another nearly ten feet away. Ellie had to move seats in order to see your face, as it was originally obscured by Owen's big head.

She can't hear what either of you are saying, but you don't look to be enjoying your conversation.

Nearly two unproductive hours pass, and she sees you let out a sigh and shut your laptop, seemingly bringing a close to your study session. She saw you speak to Owen, who perked up and made to pack up his things. Having brought only a pencil and a small notebook, Owen was up and moving before you could give him a proper goodbye. Bracing his weight on the table and quickly rushing from the coffee shop, Owen didn't seem to notice what he had done to your unsteady table. As the bell at the door rung announcing his leave, the table wobbled, toppling over the coffee cup that Owen had left on the table, half-full.

Ellie saw the fear in your eyes as you lifted your laptop from the table as quick as you could, but you weren't able to save your notes, or your lap, from getting soaked with coffee. Unbeknownst to Owen, he had given Ellie the perfect opportunity to play hero. Ellie nearly fell flat on her face as she clambered off the barstool. Rushing to the napkin dispenser, she pulled as many as possible as quick as possible until she had two fists full. As quickly as she could while still appearing somewhat normal, Ellie made her way toward you.

You looked even prettier up close, even with tears lining your eyes and coffee staining your shirt. As you held your laptop high above the table, Ellie locked eyes with you and said "here, let me help," just loud enough that you could hear. She offered to move your laptop to a nearby table so she could clean, to which you nodded with a pathetic sniffle. Ellie haphazardly wiped the pool of coffee from the table, gingerly offering the other handful of napkins to you to wipe yourself down.

As you stand up, it becomes clear that the coffee has soaked your shirt, because Ellie can see right through the white fabric. She can't take her eyes off the lacy edges of your bra and the curves of your breasts. Having been so concerned about your laptop, you hadn't realized that you had become an unwitting contestant in the most embarrassing wet tshirt contest. Following Ellie's gaze downward, you squeaked and attempted to cross your arms over your chest to hide. Unfortunately, this only gave Ellie a better view as your arms squished your breasts together. Ellie blushed as the thought of offering to cover your breasts for you briefly crossed her mind, but then she noticed your face that blushed even redder. Your eyes were locked on the ground as you tried to come up with a way to walk home with your dignity still intact.

Instead, Ellie unzips her baggy sweatshirt and shrugs it off her shoulders. With a blush on her face and a trembling voice she says "you can take my jacket..." and the smile on your face is worth being cold on her walk home.

"Thank you so much," you beam, "but I don't know how I would return it. Would you mind giving me your number so I can let you know when it's washed and I can give it back." As much as Ellie would like you to keep the sweatshirt, she has been given a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to get your number. If she could, she would thank Owen for spilling on you, because she'll get her hoodie back smelling like you.

"For sure, let me just..." as Ellie pulls her phone from her pocket and hands it to you. She hopes you don't care about the cracked screen as you punch in your number and send yourself a text.

"Thank you so much, you're a lifesaver. I just wish I hadn't been paired with him. I already know I'll be doing most of the work."

"No yeah I don't like him either!" Ellie spits out, rushing to agree with you and confirm your suspicions.

You try to stifle your giggle at her nervousness, and realize "wait! I haven't gotten your name yet."

Ellie locks eyes with you and suddenly she forgot how to speak. 'My name? Oh god what was it, who am I?' and stutters out a "uh, um, it's, it's Ellie... Williams. Ellie Williams."

You smile, and return the sentiment, even though she's known your name for months now. "Well, thanks for all your help, Ellie. You're a real sweetheart. I'll see you around."

Ellie nearly melts hearing her name from your mouth. She waves to you goodbye with a dopey smile on her face.

That's it, she would make the professor switch your project partners if it were the last thing she did.

[marytvirgin]

I like my whiskey the way I like my men

- John Price x f!Reader (Death)

Reader have tatoos... Lots of them.

I'm thinking of using this as a plot for a fic. Tell me what you think.

Be added to the Tag List!

PART TWO!

You didn't expect your night to be like this. But oh boy, this is better than you expected.

Tight black dress with thin straps with an opening on the right thigh that almost shows the strap of your black panties. Loose hair around the face, silver earrings on the ears and dog tags hanging between the neckline of the breasts. High-hein boots stiletto. Bare arms revealing the skin covered in black and white tattoos, some specific spots colored in red – patterns of roses, knives and guns cover the entire length of both arms.  On your back, the large "La Muerte" tattoo appeared through the neckline of the dress.

And this type of clothing, which shows so much of what makes you you are not ideal to be close to a superior. But how were you supposed to know he'd be there just that night?

Captain Price.

A living legend.

You didn't notice him at the bar, too distracted by your companions of the night. All old army friends, gathered at a table in the centre of the bar. At this point, some men had already approached your desk trying their luck with any of you. You laughed while listening to them. Beautiful boys, but too young for your preference.

You like those who wouldn't piss you off for minimal and childish things, those who knew how to deal with women, really deal with instead of just trying to wet their dicks. The guy who'd go down on a woman and make her legs tremble; fuck your brain. Yes, that's your type.

And usually that means older men.

"Girl!" Your friend, Dani, poked you with a suspicious smile. "There's a man here who's very much your type!"

"Where?" You asked, smiling too.

Dani was that one type of friend who almost a hundred percent of the time showed you the guys you'd spend one or even a few more nights with. She knew you well enough and seemed to have a radar for good fucks. A sixth sense that benefited you – a lot.

"On your six. He's with some beautiful friends too. You must take a look!"

"Just like that?"

"Just like that. Uh-oh. I'm sure you'll climb him like a fucking spider monkey. "

Shaking your head, you laughed. But the laugh died in your glass when you turned to look.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Sitting two tables behind yours was a group of four men. With his back to you was what appeared to be a mountain of muscles, the hood of the sweatshirt pulled over your head. Next to him was another strong man, fair skin and a mohawk on top of his head – this one was smiling. The other man was the smallest on the table, but still strong. This one has black skin, low cut hair and an extremely fun smile dancing on his lips – as if enjoying an inside joke with the mohawk guy.  All extremely familiar to your taste.

But it was the last man you noticed that made you choke on your drink and turn to your friend, your eyes wide while coughing.

He's big, the second largest on the table. Well-combed brown hair, soft beard spread across his face, bright blue eyes, medium lips. The leather jacket makes him look even bigger. Lord, you still remember the serious and soft voice he has.

Dani is right, you could really climb Price – if he let you.

"Fuck!"

"Girl, what-"

"That's Captain Price!" Your voice came out half-shouted, half-whispered.  "He leads the task force 141!"  Dani eyes go wide as she recognized the name.  "That's 141!"

You've been on the field with Captain Price before, the man is a force of nature when leading. You had saved Price two years ago in your first deployment with him, and then worked as the man two more times. Not only that, but you know the big man too, even if you can only see his back. He is Lieutenant Ghost; you had been deployed to him in Al Mazrah three months earlier. Extremely confidential mission, hand-picked team. And he had picked you.

Those are two of the men who had your respect to the maximum level.

"The captain?

"Himself!"

"Oh… "

Wait… oh Lord.

"Were you talking about him?!”

"I think so. Can you judge me?  He's your type." She smiled as her eyes were wide-eyed. "Why don't you go there? Say hi, ask him how he's doing..."

"Are you going crazy?!".

"Whoa, I don't see the problem.  With all this desperation, it seems like you have a crush on the man… "

You do, but she doesn't need to know that - she already knows, probably. This bitch.

"Dani, he was my captain in three deployments! Not to mention the lieutenant! The man can kill me if I bother him, really! " Ghost is not at all bad, just silent, focused, not so funny.  Fucking dangerous.

Dani frowned and stared at you for a moment.  You took it as a victory for her to drop the subject.

"In addition, our field of operation is the same. Both of us are SAS. That would go against the rules of our book.”

 It's a shame.

A smile opened on Dani's lips, not the kind you like. "I dare you to go there and buy a drink for the captain. In front of him, so he knows it's you."

May God kill you now.

There it was. The word "dare" moved you.  You have a problem not knowing how to lose or not proving that you were capable of something. She knows that. Your weakness. You've almost been arrested because of this before, got yourself into so much trouble in your recruiting time because of dares. But...

You think that if you defied death so many times that you've come to the point of being compared to it, you've even won the callsign Death...

You can do that.

"You are a cunt! Challenge accepted. "

Dani's laugh was too high for your taste, attracted looks you didn't want. Drinking your other friend's tequila shot, you got up and started walking to the table of 141. One by one, the men at the table have put their attention on you – it's not their fault, your clothes and tattoos make it very difficult to ignore you.

Fuck, you can't do that!

"Sergeant Death, some time without seeing you." Price greeted you as soon as you got to the table.

"Captain." You nodded lightly. "I've been busy. You know, Laswell loves me." Price opened a smile and pulled the chair free from the table for you to sit on. "Lieutenant Ghost." You waved to the man a little more serious.  "Boys." The other two at the table waved, looking shocked.

"To what do I owe the honor?" Price asked, arching one of the eyebrows. Eyes gleaming in the dim lights of the bar.

God.

Help.

"A dare." You said before you could hold it. Better be honest.

"What was the dare?" Price asked, leaning his elbows on the table, leaning slightly towards you.

Oh. That move, you've had guys do it before. Same look, same inclination. God help you not to be misunderstanding the situation.

His left eyebrow rose slightly. The man's movement made a wave of confidence spread through you, a predatory smile opening on your red-painted lips revealing pearly white teeth. Your eyes moved across the table briefly taking in the reactions – all but the lieutenant had a slight glow of surprise in his eyes.

"Buy you a drink and make it clear that I did it."

"Damn it. She really went to this." The mohawk guy whistled softly at the darkened skin guy next to him.

You sat slightly leaning to the captain's side, passing one of the tattooed arms over the back of your own chair. The neckline on the breasts more prominent. Through the corner of your eyes, you saw Dani and the other women at the table spinning their jackets over their heads – Dani let a wolf whistle escape.

"So, what are you drinking, Captain?" Price chuckled as he looked you deep into your eyes.

"Whiskey."

"Hmn... "

With a shake from your hand, you called the waitress to the table and asked for another two doses.  The waitress, knowing you well, smiled blinking one eye when you whispered to her what whiskey you wanted. As soon as she put the glass on the table, John picked it up and tried the drink. The man's eyebrows rose in surprise for taste.

"Surprised, sir?"  You laughed lightly, really enjoying having impressed the man.

"I didn't expect you to know good whiskeys, I admit."

"You want to know my secret?" You asked, leaning slightly forward as the cup hid your growing smile. Price waved confirming. "I like my whiskey the way I like my men... I like them older."

The rest of the dose went down your throat, burning your stomach along with the tequila. You rose from the chair still smiling like a wolf that cornered his prey and supported a hand on the shoulder of the man looking into his eyes.

"They always taste better."

Price's eyes darkened slightly, his expression shifting to something slightly wild. Fuck, your body's heated up – and maybe it's not the drink responsible.

"See you around, sir."

You left the table, listening to the whistles of the two men you didn't know while they were messing with the captain.  Looking over your shoulder, you noticed that John had not turned his gaze away.

Maybe he is the wolf now...

And you're the prey about to be cornered.

Fuck, you can come, Captain. I’m waiting for you.

[lonewolfwriting89]

PRIMAL

Alpha!Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

Warnings – Language. Smut. NSFW. Alpha theme. Hints at Werewolf!Simon

A/N: A very late kinktober fic, hope you all enjoy 👻😈🐺 apologies for missing in action lately xoxo

————

Maybe it was the sunset.

Maybe it was the impending rain.

You didn’t know what it was, but there was something different. Something electric. The dying light bled down through the trees across the face of a man that you thought you knew. There was something in that filtered light of early evening that made him even more desirable. A way that urged you to act on those fantasies that you had kept hidden in your secret heart.

You could smell the coming rain on the wind as it drifted lazily through the maze of trees and brush, the smell of summer. Maybe spring was known as the time for lovers, but the summer had always done it for you. Hot and moist, at times; pungent. Like the light scent of his sweat that teased your nose.

Simon exerted a kind of benevolent control over you. He had since the day you had met him, standing against a tree and watching you walk along the worn path beside the creek that led through the deep, dark woods. You’d asked his name many times, but he would never tell you, and he never asked for yours. How many weeks had you been walking with your new friend? Three? Four? And yet you still didn’t know what to call him.

This day had been different from the start. For one thing, the way he was dressed. He was leaning against his tree, as always, but gone was the rugged flannel shirt and heavy boots. He stood there nonchalantly in nothing but his faded black jeans. His feet were bare against the floor of the forest and his broad, triangular shaped torso disappeared into the narrow band of his pants. For the first time you were being given the opportunity to take in the sight of the muscles that had teased your waking dreams for the last few weeks. You were tortured with wonder at the thoughts of what was under his tight shirts, the muscle apparent, but modestly covered.

You liked what you saw. He was well built, rippling muscle tense and solid. His skin was scarred, mapping his dangerous past, displaying his masculine strength. A true Alpha. His hair, dirty blonde, was wild, stray strands dipping into his molten gaze.

“Can I walk with you?”, he asked. He always asked the same question, never presuming. You smiled when you said yes. Could this handsome man really be so naïve as not to realise that the only reason you walked in the woods everyday was to see him?

Your hair was tucked deftly away from your face, underneath the hood of your red sweatshirt. The red of the shirt was the only splash of colour to stand out amid the lush greens and earthy browns of the woods. You wore cut off denim shorts and trainers below the red sweatshirt, enjoying the silk of air as it brushed your bare skin. The flapping tails of your white cotton blouse fluttered in the breeze where they hung from under the sweatshirt.

You both walked along the edge of the creek together for some time, watching as the sun began its descent in the western sky and the rain clouds began to gather darkly in a line to the east. The scent of copper came on the wind as the smell of the distant rain blew through the forest. The leaves turned their white undersides skyward with the updraft of the wind.

And that was when you came to the full realisation that you wanted this man. Right now. This quiet, unassuming man who walked and spoke with you for hours, never needing anything from you in return. That he didn’t seem to need you, made you want him more. Simon wasn’t aloof; he was just comfortable, confident. The smoothness of his walk and the grace with which he moved belied a sense of pure unselfconsciousness. The Man in the Woods was truly at home in his skin. At home in the forest.

Simon looked you in the eye and knew what was on your mind immediately. You looked away nervously, wondering how much truth he had seen in your face. You had nearly been lost in his frosted steel gaze. Lupine eyes.

“I want you—I’ve always wanted you”, he said matter-of-factly, “Will you have me?”.

“What?”, you asked, incredulously. You knew you heard him, but his words had stunned you momentarily.

“What did you say?”.

He stepped closer to you and you involuntarily backed away from him. When your back came into contact with the trunk of a large oak tree you abandoned your thoughts of flight. Where would you run anyway? Did you even want to run? The unexpected nature of his advance caught you off guard. It wasn’t how you were used to being approached by men. It wasn’t a corny line in a city bar. It was an honest, up front statement and a serious question, spoken with a purity of mind and an innocence that was out of place in such a lustful proposition.

“I said, I want you. Was that clearer for you?”.

You didn’t move, the stability of the huge tree at your back helped to hold you up on wobbling knees. You didn’t speak, your lips merely trembled.

He leaned against the tree, an arm on either side of your head, as he leaned slowly down, putting his face level with yours. His scent surrounded you, drowning you in an overwhelming lust. Simon whispered again, “Will you have me?”.

You lowered your glimmering eyes and reached your hands out, taking his hips and guiding him against your body.

You felt Simon’s muscled chest pressing against yours, forcing your shoulders back against the curve of the tree trunk, making your breasts stand out, high and proud. He took the zipper to your red sweatshirt and brought it down slowly, in one fluid motion, sweeping it from your shoulders. He stripped you of the sweatshirt and discarded it at your feet. Your nipples pebbled under your flimsy blouse, poking out under the white cotton.

His hand snaked up your body from thigh to breast, his fingers capturing your nipple, rolling it, pinching it. You mewled softly, turning your head and closing your eyes, taking in every sensation.

He leaned in and you tilted your head to receive his kiss, your mouth slightly open, lower lip still trembling. You felt the familiar hot, wet sensation in the juncture of your thighs, but rarely this heated or this soaked. Your pussy pulsed along with your pounding heart and you began to subtly thrust your hips forward, grinding your mound into the hard bulge in his pants.

Just short of completing the kiss, he stopped, extending his tongue slowly and softly, tracing it delicately along the edge of your lips. Feather soft and deliberate, his tongue stretched out and licked your full lips. Your tongue waited impatiently, desperately wanting to reach out and welcome Simon into your mouth, but you held back. The longing was exquisite torture and you were about to burst when he finally crushed your lips to his.

Too soon he broke the passionate kiss, pulling away from you with a quick, soft bite to your lower lip, tugging it gently with his sharp teeth. Had they always been that sharp? Your mind was hazy with pleasure. With one hand he pulled your hair, maybe a bit too roughly, but you had no complaint. With the other hand he began working the button and zipper of your denim shorts, expertly opening the front of your pants to his exploring fingers. Your soft cotton panties were pink and offered no resistance as his hand dove beneath the thin elastic waistband, to your boiling centre.

Simon’s thick fingers nudged and teased your engorged clit, stroking it softly. He nibbled at your neck, drawing your skin into his mouth and brushing it lightly with his tongue. The pressure of his teeth and the softness of his tongue combined to drive you over the edge.

Buttons be damned, you thought, ripping open your blouse, exposing your firm, peaked breasts. Your own hands found their way to his head, entwining fingers in his silken hair and urging his head down to your breasts. Simon happily complied, moving down and sucking one pert nipple into his mouth. As you moaned from the new sensation at your breast, he slipped a finger tentatively inside of you, eliciting an even stronger moan.

As with your lip, he bit softly on your nipple and tugged, slowly rolling his tongue over the puckered skin surrounding it. He pulled you away from the tree, just far enough to slip the white cotton blouse completely from your body, and then he pushed the bare skin of your back against the rough bark, as he moved to your other nipple. You squeezed and released handfuls of his hair, pressing his face to your chest, as he dropped the white blouse on top of the red sweatshirt. Fabric becoming damp from the dew on the floor.

A small cry escaped your lips when the long, thick finger in your pussy found just the spot. Taking that cue, he concentrated his ministrations in that area, and soon you were cumming, walls spasming around his digit. Your body went rigid against the tree, eyes squeezed tightly shut, as the small spasms coursed through you in slow, undulating waves. You pressed yourself greedily against his hand, wanting the waves to go on and on. The sensations at your breast and core were overpowering, your body shuddering, breath ragged.

The distant rain finally caught up to you both, coming down through the heavy forest canopy, making the woods around you sizzle with every little drop. The cold rain on your hot skin sent up little plumes of steam, and Simon let out a moan of pure ecstasy, low and drawn out, luxuriating in the feel of the water on his flesh. He turned his face up, letting the rain drip lazily onto his face, into his mouth. You cast your eyes down and watched the tiny rivulets making their way down his muscular chest and abdomen, through the little line of hair coming up from the waistband of his jeans and disappearing into them.

Brazenly, you allowed your tongue to follow their trails, dragging your tongue hungrily down Simon’s neck, biting and kissing as you went. Down over his chest, stopping to lick and suck his nipple. Biting and kissing down over his stomach, you soon found yourself on your knees in front of him, eyes fastened on the tautly stretched fabric of the denim over his crotch, the shape and size of his cock obvious as it pressed against his hip. You nibbled along his shaft through the jeans, up to the head and back down, pressing soft kisses against the bulge.

Simon felt he was going to explode when you dragged your teeth firmly along the same path that you had just nibbled, your hands coming up and massaging his heavy balls. He groaned gruffly, fists clenched at his sides, fighting for control.

The button was hard to open, due to the tightness of his pants, but you managed and your fingers took the clasp of his zipper, pulling down slowly, one agonising tooth at a time. When you finally had lowered the zipper enough to allow, his cock sprung out, achingly hard and visibly pulsing. With every beat of his heart it leapt slightly. The head was a dark purple and the shaft had one large vein running across the top. It disappeared into the patch of wiry hair at the base of his abdomen.

A glistening drop of clear liquid formed in the slit at its crown and you darted your tongue out, touching it briefly to the tip of his cockhead. The little drop held to your tongue in a long, thick string before breaking and dropping onto your bottom lip and chin.

Wrapping your hand around his cock, you gripped it firmly, giving a little squeeze and watching with delight as more of the clear liquid oozed out. Simon groaned again, reaching out and placing his hands gently against the sides of your head, urging you forward, pleading wordlessly. You looked up and met his gaze, staring down at you with pure black eyes, hungry and needful, almost violent in their gleam. His lips were parted and he breathed slowly and heavily through his mouth, his chest heaving.

One long shiver coursed through his entire body when you finally bent your head and took him into your mouth. Your eyes had been just as hungry as his and you devoured him ravenously, sliding your lips up and down his hard length, feeling every ridge and sinewy knot beneath the skin. You let your saliva pool on your tongue and spread it liberally over his shaft, slipping your mouth down until your nose was pressed into his hair, and then pulling back slowly with a long sucking motion, before diving right back down. You took him into your throat and coaxed him with the muscular contractions you could produce, summoning the load from him. You pulled back once more and heard him grunt and then groan again, feeling his cock swell further in your mouth.

“Not yet”, he breathed, desperately pulling his throbbing hardness from your mouth. He was going to explode if you didn’t stop and he had very precise intentions for his seed. It was not to be wasted.

A few more loving licks along his cock was all you had time for before he grabbed your shoulders and brought your to your feet. Once again, he pressed your back against the oak tree harshly.

Simon slid down your body onto his knees, his tongue delving quickly into your naval, and then dipping down to the edge of your pink panties. As he nuzzled your sex through your shorts, he slipped off your shoes and socks, his big, calloused hands slipped leisurely up your legs. From your ankles to your knees he teased your skin with his fingertips, a slight tickling across the backs of your knees. His hands reached up behind you, grabbing your ass and pressing your body to his face. Simon grabbed the loosened waistband of your denim shorts, brought them down smoothly and you stepped out of them, arching your back against the tree for stability. Just as quickly he brought his hands back up and grabbed the elastic band of your panties and brought them down, baring your completely to his eyes.

Ravenous.

Leaning his head forward, he placed a firm lip kiss above your cleft, inhaling your scent deeply as he pulled away. Driven by your smell, he lunged at you, biting into your hip, the last vestiges of his self-control being all that stood between pleasure and pain. A surprised gasp, followed by a soft moan, answered his bite.

The rain began to come down heavier, the canopy of the forest barely slowing the drops. A cool wind picked up, twisting through the trees like a sentient being, seeking and finding the two lovers. You both shivered, but only partly from the chill.

Simon picked up your right leg and placed it over his shoulder, spreading your for his kiss. His tongue moved out slowly, finding your clit, engorged and reddened. Pulsing with animalistic desire. You raised your head and cried out, one arm bent back along the trunk of the tree, the other holding his head. You involuntarily ground your pussy onto his face, hard against his mouth. Your left leg nearly buckled when he curled his tongue around your clit and gently sucked it into his mouth, coaxing your orgasm in much the same way you had attempted to bring his. He sucked at you softly, yet voraciously. He was a man starving for you, trying to engulf you entirely into himself. A deep, resounding growl rose from his throat, the air vibrating from his lips and sending you once again over that edge.

You let out a small scream just as a distant clap of thunder began to rumble over the forest. You rode the waves of the thunder as it faded away. You cried again, another orgasm ripping through you, pulling your entire being to your centre. To his mouth.

The tree bark was rough on your back, possibly cutting your flesh, but you were beyond caring. You leaned forward, pressing harder to his lips, and then slamming yourself back against the tree in pure wantonness, over and over. There was no pain. Only blinding pleasure.

You didn’t realise it when he brought your leg from his shoulder and back to the ground, so lost in ecstasy. Your body trembled still, the remnants of the climax still rippling outward from your core, as you sagged against the oak, eyes closed. Every nerve in your body refocused its intention to carrying on the devastating feelings coursing through it.

The ripples were coming slower as the thunderstorm grew ever closer. You tried to sink into the tree, to feel everything at once. You felt the cool rain dripping on your skin, a trailing drop running to, and then going around your nipple. You curled your toes into the wet, mossy ground. The soft murmur of the rain on the leaves sang to you.

A loud, obnoxious clap of thunder brought you out of your reverie and your eyes snapped open. You gasped, startled, as you realised that you were face to face with Simon again. He was gazing at you with a predatory gleam in his icy eyes.

In one move he was against your body and inside you, sliding up into you as you stood against the tree. With his hands on your hips Simon raised your body and lowered you onto his cock, thrusting himself madly into you, too insistent to care about anything else.

You turned your cheek against the tree, exposing your neck, and he could no longer hold back. A bestial groan escaped his lips, followed by a snarl through clenched teeth. Every muscle in his body was wire taut, the force of his thrusts lifting you from your feet, suspended between the tree and Simon. You planted your feet firmly on top of his thighs and rode him, taking each pounding stroke as deep as gravity and flesh would allow.

His eyes remained focused on the smooth curve of your neck, the delicate slope to your shoulder. The need began to slip from the corners of his mouth as he saw and heard your pulse. Simon couldn’t take it. He lunged forward and bit you, hard. Too hard. You cried out, but you never broke your stride. He tasted a small bit of your blood on his tongue and it drove him to the point of rage.

Lightning split the sky just above, with an instantaneous crack of thunder. Not far away from you both, a tree fell, burnt and smouldering. The rain was pounding down on you. The wind drove it down and into the forest, hard against your rutting bodies.

You screamed with another orgasm and he howled with rage, pain and lust as he emptied himself inside of you. Thunder and lightning crashed above you, pale in comparison to the rapacious nature of the beast coursing through both of you. Simon looked into your eyes and saw the lightning flash. You looked into his and saw the truth of what he was. Half man, half beast.

You rode out the storm and the passion, moving slowly, kissing and touching. Caressing. You brought your feet back to the ground, pumping your hips slowly, letting him go soft inside of you as the storm blew away, almost as quickly as it came.

At last, he slipped from your core and he stepped away from you. You said nothing. The rain dripping from the forest canopy, the receding thunder, and your breathing were the only sounds. With his hand he softly stroked your cheek, gazing intently into your eyes. Then he turned and walked away, naked, into the heart of the forest.

You watched him go, wondering if you would ever see him again. Touching your hand to the bleeding bite at the bend of your neck, you winced absently. The pain was negligible, but it would surely leave a scar. A scar that would undoubtedly tie you to him.

The thunder rolled on and a wolf howled in the distance, answered by the howls of many others. Through the canopy of trees you could see the moon trying to peek out from behind the lingering storm clouds.

Only now, it seemed to call to you.

————

[anonymousewrites]

Burden of Truth (Book 1) Chapter One

Father Figure! Marc Spector x Teen! Reader

Father Figure! Steven Grant x Teen! Reader

Mother Figure! Layla El-Faouly x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: In the Alps

Summary: (Y/N) goes to the Alps to find Ammit's scarab. They encounter much more trouble than they ever had before.

            (Y/N) tugged on the ends of their sweatshirt as they walked through the village. The search for the scarab of Ammit had brought them unexpectedly to the Austrian Alps, but according to their information, the Followers of Ammit’s leader, Arthur Harrow, had many cult members there, and (Y/N) had to get to the scarab before he got possession of it.

            Everyone in the village headed towards the town square, and (Y/N) drifted easily into the flow. If they caught sight of the person delivering the scarab, (Y/N) would pick their pocket and be on their way. They glanced over the crowd. They just had to be careful of the men with guns.

            Their eyes landed on a man with a white hood pulled over his head. (Y/N) frowned. Isn’t that Khonshu’s avatar? They watched him look around almost in fright. That wasn’t like the man they’d seen before. He’d seemed much more self-assured then.

            Still, (Y/N) remained on guard. They had never met an avatar other than him, and Khonshu hadn’t seemed nice, so (Y/N) wasn’t sure about getting closer.

            Their attention went back to the crowd as they all came to a stop at the town square. Murmurs and excited whispers went up as they parted to let a single man walk through.

            Harrow strolled through the crowd as they looked at him reverently. His cane tapped the ground rhythmically. Ammit’s followers bowed and murmured praise to him, thanking him for his presence and for the guidance of Ammit.

            (Y/N) shivered at how honest all the devotion was.

            The people around them jostled to get to the front. They all wanted to reach out to Harrow and even just brush his clothes. (Y/N) and Khonshu’s Avatar ended up nearer, and (Y/N) averted their gaze. They didn’t really want to deal with him. If he was there, it meant something dangerous might happen, and (Y/N) had done a very good job working in the shadows for seven years. They didn’t need it to change now.

            “What a beautiful day,” said Harrow in English. “It’s like we’re in heaven.” He chuckled. “Only it’s not heaven, isn’t it? It’s a darkness.” He smiled kindly. “Sometimes it hides in our very hearts. We are here to make Earth as much like Heaven as possible.” Harrow looked around with a benevolent expression. “Who’d like to go first?”

            (Y/N) watched as a young man stepped forward. They were about to see firsthand what had made Ma’at dislike Ammit so much, what made her want Harrow to never get closer to her teachings and power.

            “You are a brave man, offering your soul for judgement,” said Harrow.

            Judging before their time, before their death? thought (Y/N). But they have no Feather of Truth for their hearts to be weighed against. This was nothing but a perversion of the Judgement of the Dead.

            “Wanting to serve out goddess even before she wakes,” said Harrow.

            He rolled up his sleeves, and (Y/N) spotted the tattoo of scales on his forearm. He balanced his crocodile-headed cane in the man’s hands. The cane began to rock back and forth, and the scales on Harrow’s forearm moved with them.

            “I judge you in Ammit’s name with but a fraction of her power,” declared Harrow.

            The scales balanced and turned green. The crowd gasped, and Harrow smiled at the young man.

            “This is the face of a good man!” he said benevolently. He hugged them, and applause went up in the crowd.

            “Who would like to go next?” said a man next to Harrow.

            “Me,” said an old woman. “Please, Harrow, I must know.”

            “Call me Arthur.” Harrow extended a kindly hand to her. “Come.” She stepped up to him and allowed him to take her hands. “Will you accept your scales, regardless of the outcomes?”

            “Yes,” said the woman.

            The cane swung back and forth, and the woman stared at Harrow’s scales apprehensively. They froze unbalanced and turned a sickening red.

            “I’m sorry,” said Harrow sadly, but (Y/N) felt the lie. He was happy to rid the world of people judged to be unrighteous.

            “I’ve been good my entire life,” said the woman desperately, unable to understand the results of her judgement.

            “I believe you,” said Harrow. Truth. “But the scales see everything. Perhaps it’s something that lies ahead. He sighed. “Well, I wish you could live to see the world we make. Yet, Ammit has decided.”

            The woman gave a gasp that died in her throat. Her body froze before collapsing, dead.

            (Y/N)’s stomach twisted, and they grimaced as every part of them surged angrily at the injustice of these people being given no chance, even for their future. It went against the proper order of life. It was just wrong, and (Y/N) could feel it.

            Harrow knelt sadly beside her body before it was carried away. One of his men walked up and crouched, holding his gun tightly.

            “I’m sorry. There was a problem with the exchange,” he said in German.

            Someone already took the scarab? thought (Y/N). Their eyes went to Khonshu’s Avatar.

            “We got ambushed. Someone killed two of our men,” continued the man.

            It was definitely Khonshu’s Avatar’s doing.

            Harrow stood. “Is he still here?”

            “We think so, yes,” said the guard.

            They know his face, thought (Y/N), glancing at him again.

            Harrow looked out over the crowd. “Bow to Ammit!” he said in Ancient Egyptian.

            The entire crowd knelt ((Y/N), too, to blend in). Khonshu’s Avatar was late, having no idea what the order was and not being part of the cult.

            “Oh, bollocks,” cursed Khonshu’s avatar.

            (Y/N) frowned. That was a totally different accent, English (weird English, too) instead of American. What was going on?

            “You,” said Harrow, looking at him. “I know you.”

            “Me? Hi, uh…” The avatar stood up nervously.

            “Mercenary,” said Harrow coldly, and all eyes went to Khonshu’s avatar.

            “ ‘Mercenary?’ ” repeated the man nervously as the crowd stood up again. “No, no. I’m not a mercenary. No, I’m a gift shop-ist. I work at a gift shop. My name’s Steven Grant.”

            No lies at all, thought (Y/N). He really was Steven Grant and worked at a gift shop. Which, incidentally, made the whole situation more complicated because Harrow was also telling the truth. A regular job as cover? But what about the accents?

            “I’m trying to get back home. To London,” said Steven nervously as Harrow approached. “London? I dunno why I’m saying it like that.”

            “Well, Steven Grant of the gift shop,” said Harrow.

            “Yeah?” said Steven.

            “Will you return to the scarab?” said Harrow, holding out his hands.

            Shit, can’t let him have it, thought (Y/N). Now that they’d seen Harrow judge people and kill them, they knew that even beyond Ma’at’s instructions they needed to stop him. (Y/N) refused to let innocent people get hurt.

            “The…The what?” said Steven, confused. “Oh, alright.” He patted his pockets nervously. “Yeah, the…Oh, you mean…” He pulled the scarab out of his pocket. He stared at in, not having expected it to be there.

            “You will give him nothing.”

            Khonshu’s voice echoed over the street, and Steven looked around for it wildly. He swallowed and held out the scarab to Harrow anyways.

            No! thought (Y/N). They took a step forward.

            Harrow reached out. Steven’s fingers closed suddenly over the scarab. He looked at them in confusion.

            “I strongly encourage you to return that,” said Harrow.

            “I’m not-I’m…” Steven stammered, perplexed. He glared at his fingers, willing them to open. “I’m try—” He hit his hand with his other. “Come on, now. It’s like my fingers froze.” He tried to peel open his fingers. “But here’s some of that…I don’t know, maybe it’s part of the high altitude or something.” He managed to open his hand and grabbed the scarab. “Aha! There, take it, so strange. Sorry, but—” Steven’s hand swiveled behind him, again unbidden.

            “I will not ask again,” said Harrow firmly.

            “I didn’t do that on purpose,” said Steven. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

            Completely truthful, thought (Y/N). This whole thing was proving strange.

            Steven turned his whole body in an attempt to his hand nearer to Harrow. “There, take it, take it.”

            (Y/N) couldn’t let that happen. They darted out and snatched the scarab. Steven and Harrow’s eyes widened, but (Y/N) didn’t wait around to find out their other reactions. They turned and made a run for it.

            “Grab them,” ordered Harrow.

            Several adults emerged from the ground and grabbed for (Y/N). They dodged through a few, but two snagged their arms. (Y/N) yelped and pulled to get away. It didn’t work, so they just curled their fist closed around the scarab, refusing to let go.

            “Who are you?” said Harrow, tilting his head in confusion as his people tried to pry their hand open.

            “Hey, wait, mate, you can’t hurt a kid,” said Steven, brow creasing in concern.

            “Stay out of this, worm,” said Khonshu’s voice.

            Ma’at remained silent, apparently uninterested in getting near Khonshu again.

            The people holding (Y/N) twisted their arm, and they cried out, straining to keep control of their arm. They couldn’t let Harrow get the scarab, not when he was going to hurt people.

       ��    Steven’s eyes rolled into his head for a moment before returning to glare at Harrow and Ammit’s followers. The entire body language had changed.

            “Finally,” said Khonshu.

            Not-Steven—this wasn’t Steven—surged forwards and attacked the people trying to take the scarab for Harrow. He pulled them off of (Y/N) and punched them violently. One tried to attack him in return, but he kicked him to the ground and stomped on his head. (Y/N) stumbled back as their attacker let go, and Not-Steven swung for his head, catching the scarab as it fell. Another grabbed for (Y/N) again, and Not-Steven hit them in the face with the scarab. All the people fell to the ground against Not-Steven, left with bloody knuckles from no wounds on himself.

            (Y/N) stared in surprise, as did Harrow and the crowd. Not-Steven turned to face Harrow, and then his eyes rolled into his head once more. He blinked furiously and looked around in confusion.

            “No, the idiots back,” grumbled Khonshu’s voice.

            Oh. (Y/N) put it together. Dissociative Identity Disorder. Steven and Not-Steven were alters, and one was clearly more of Khonshu’s avatar than the other. (Y/N) had met Not-Steven a year ago, and now they had encountered Steven.

            Steven cleared his throat uncomfortably as he stared at his bloody hands. “S-Sorry…” He put his hands up and glanced at (Y/N). “A-Are you alright?”

            (Y/N) nodded sharply, but they warily eyed the crowd backing off. They needed to get out of that village now. They had been seen by Harrow, which made them a target. If they didn’t leave with the scarab, (Y/N) was going to be killed. Or at least judged, which may end in death.

            “We need to go,” said (Y/N), taking a step back as Harrow and the crowd approached again.

            “Right, right…” Even Steven knew that was the best course of action now. He looked at Harrow warily. “I’m just gonna…we’re gonna go, alright? Yeah.”

            Steven and (Y/N) ran around the crowd, dodging behind tractors and barrels before they could be grabbed. The only escape route they could see was the cupcake-truck. But, seeing as they were desperate, (Y/N) and Steven jumped on.

            “Don’t you dare drop that scarab,” said Khonshu.

            “Alright, alright, alright!” shouted Steven, starting the vehicle.

            “Go, go, go!” said (Y/N), kicking away someone trying to open their door and locking it tightly.

            “We’re going!” cried Steven, stepping on the gas and speeding out of the village onto the roads beyond. “What am I doing, what am I doing?! I don’t even have my license.”

            “Just don’t crash,” said (Y/N), as encouraging as they could be considering the circumstances. They looked behind them. “We’ve got a lot of company.”

            “This has to be a dream,” said Steven nervously.

            “It’s not, Steven,” said (Y/N), grimacing as they saw Harrow’s men catching up. The cupcake van wasn’t going to outrun them.

            “They’re gonna kill us!” cried Steven as he wound around the curves of the roads.

            He tried to speed up, but a chicken-transportation truck appeared in front of them, and he had to slow down. The followers of Ammit rammed into them from the back.

            (Y/N) grit their teeth and squeezed their eyes shut. This isn’t 2018. This isn’t 2018. They weren’t going to die in a car accident. They weren’t.

            Steven honked and swerved around the truck of chickens. “Come on, move your ass!” he grimaced as he saw the old lady glaring at him. “Thank you. So sorry. Thank you.”

            Shots rang out, and a guard jumped from the front of his car to the back the cupcake van. He pulled at the doors, letting them swing wildly in the wind.

            (Y/N) scrambled into the back of the van and kicked him back. The guard fell onto the road, and they grimaced as the cars hit him and kept going. No sooner was he down, though, then another man jumped towards the open back. This time, he kept his gun raised, and (Y/N) dodged to the side. He grabbed for Steven and the scarab, and (Y/N) grabbed his ankle, tripping him. He stumbled and aimed downwards at him with his gun. Alongside them, another car was pulling up with a man with his gun trained on Steven.

            “Wait, no!” shouted Steven, and (Y/N) pushed back to try to avoid being shot.

            In the next moment, Steven—No, Not-Steven—grabbed the man aiming for (Y/N) and smashed his head into the steering wheel. He jerked back, and Not-Steven grabbed his gun. In one fluid motion, he shot the driver of the other car, sending it careening off into the mountain, and he shot the man aiming for (Y/N), letting his body fall back and out of the van.

            No sooner was it done than his eyes rolled again, and Steven dropped the gun in shock and disgust. “I don’t understand what’s happening!” cried Steven.

            “Truck!” shouted (Y/N), grabbing the seat they were behind as Steven screamed and swerved violently around a log truck. It tipped over and crushed a pursuing car.

            Two others pulled up on either side of the van and tried to hit the sides of the cupcake truck. A man on either side raised a gun and aimed.

            (Y/N) ducked and prepared to take the wheel if Steven got shot.

            His eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Not-Steven’s eyes focused. He glanced at (Y/N) before spinning the wheel. (Y/N) held onto the seat as the van spun around, hit one car, and ended up backwards. The car crashed off the side of the mountain, and now the cupcake truck faced the final car pursuing them.

            Not-Steven’s eyes rolled into the back of his head, and Steven focused again.

            “I’m driving backwards!” he cried.

            “Watch out!” said (Y/N), bracing as the car behind(?) them tried to hit them.

            Steven threw the gun at the car, and (Y/N) groaned.

            “Did he just throw the gun?!”

            “I don’t know what I’m doing!” said Steven.

            “Then leave us be, parasite!”

            Steven panicked and turned the wheel, spinning the car around again. They sped towards the forest in the valley, and then…the engine died.

            They coasted to a stop, and the car behind them pulled up to block the road in front. The men got out, readied their guns, and headed towards them.

            “Come on,” said (Y/N), pulling Steven towards the back of the van to escape.

            At the perfect moment, the logs that had come off the truck from earlier landed on the road and crushed the men.

            “Oh, shit!” cried Steven.

            “Oh, god,” said (Y/N), eyes widening. What an unfortunate way to go. Still…it meant they were alive.

            “We need to go.”

            (Y/N) glanced at the man beside them. It was Not-Steven again.

            “Do you still have the scarab?” said (Y/N), following Not-Steven.

            “Yeah,” said Not-Steven. They headed into the woods and walked along the road towards the next town over.

            “What’s your name?” asked (Y/N).

            “Marc,” said Not-Steven. He glanced back at them. “You’re Ma’at’s avatar.”

            (Y/N) nodded. “You’re Khonshu’s.”

            Marc narrowed his eyes. “Yeah.”

            “…I’m (Y/N),” said (Y/N). They realized they should have introduced themself earlier.

            Marc nodded. “Do you have a way back to…wherever you live?”

            “Ma’at will tell me where I need to go next,” said (Y/N). “I’ll figure it out from there.”

            Marc frowned. “You don’t live anywhere?”

            “No?” said (Y/N).

            Marc looked at them and furrowed his brow before turning back to the front. “Be careful.”

            “I know,” said (Y/N). They were the avatar of a god and took back (stole) relics from criminals regularly. They wouldn’t be alive if they didn’t know to be careful.

            But, still, there was something nice about someone saying it instead of (Y/N) having to just take care of themself.

l

            “You were filming our judgement, correct?” Harrow smiled at a young woman.

            She nodded. “Yes, Mr. Harrow.”

            “Please, call me Arthur,” said Harrow. “Would you mind if I took a look?”

            “Of course, Mr-Arthur,” said the young woman.

            “Thank you,” said Harrow, smiling.

            “Mr. Harrow,” said one of his guards, walking up to him. “They got away with the scarab, but we’re already tracking down ‘Steven Grant.’ ”

            “Good,” said Harrow. He held up the phone with a still of the crowd from the video. “And I need you to figure out who this is.” (Y/N)’s face stared out of the crowd.

Taglist:

@jaytheaceenby

@severussimp

@dmitrytherat

@slytherinroyalty16

@grippleback-galaxy

@alexpangender

@thewittyfanficreader

@aew-kun-age-regression

@oscarissac2099

@amberforest08

@kyalov

@yyourmotherr

[where-is-vivian]

Can I request Rosekiller Stalker Evan falling in love with Businessman Barty

oh damn that's a fire prompt. I might need to do a whole one shot... also I think I might know who you are :) but thank you anon for this very good suggestion.

ROSEKILLER. STALKER EVAN, BUSINESSMAN BARTY. 2,5K words. UNRELIABLE NARRATOR. RATED MATURE?

He was always the last one to leave the building.

Evan had been sitting outside, under the heavy pouring rain, for the past three hours. With his black rain coat, he looked almost invisible in the night. The city lights were lighting the street, and reflecting their white and yellow lights in the poodles of water on the floor. Once in a while, one of the many people who were walking by were shooting him weird glances, but too many people were walking by him to care anyway. Most of them were probably wondering why a young boy like him was staying outside with this weather.

But he was ready to stay outside all night, if it meant having a chance to see him when he would exit the building to go back to his apartment, 3 on *** Street, apartment 65, 5tth floor. Barty was the head of the company, and yet, he was always leaving before his employees. Somehow, Evan hadn’t managed to get what sort of company it was exactly.

Several times, he had found himself reading things on the company’s website that were odd, and when he had compared the data of year-end financial reports, he hadn’t been able to connect the numbers. And yet Evan was very good at math. Officially, the company was helping large fortunes to manage their funds.

A rain drop ran down his forehead, making him blink. Suddenly the last light of the building, the one that had been left in Barty’s office, turned off. Evan blinked a second time. The building had big windows, glass covering the entire surface of it, allowing anyone from outside to see inside.

Evan had seen many things when watching Barty’s office, from this very spot he hadn’t moved from since he started observing Barty from afar. He had seen him sleep on his desk. He had seen him look outside, sometimes look down to him, unsuspecting. He had seen him fuck. Several times, Evan had witnessed Barty getting fucked against the window of his office — he had concluded he had a voyeurism kink, or something like that.

Every single time it had happened, Evan had wished it was him who was fucking Barty against the window, for everyone to see. He would have made him his. He had hated these moment as much as he had enjoyed it; seeing his man getting touched by other people had been a hard sight, but he hadn’t been able to not get hard. And he hadn’t been able to stop himself to think about it again and again and again every time he had been alone again.

He had gotten rid of those people anyway. So none of them would ever touch his Barty ever again.

Just thinking about it, the satisfaction it had been to kill those nasty men, barely vessels for a soul, couldn’t be qualified of men truly, Evan smiled. He would kill as many as needed, until he would be the only one for him.

That night, Barty didn’t even glance in his direction, as usual, and Evan stood up from the bench he had been sitting on for hours to follow him to his car. Sitting on this bench was hurting like crazy and he was probably leaving a mark on it with how regularly he was sitting there, but it was always worth it when he got to see Barty, in his grey suit, hair wet and slicked back — he was always lazily passing a hand through it, unaware of how crazy it drove Evan —, jaw clenched and walking with decided steps to his black car.

Barty wasn’t even minding the rain. Neither was Evan. The latter followed to the parking, and then he simply hid behind a cement column, watching him get inside his car, like he did every day.

(weeks later...)

The drawstrings on the hood of his black sweatshirt were bouncing on his chest as he walked, taking care to not walk too fast. Barty was walking in front of him, a few steps ahead, his back turned to him.

He was vulnerable. Evan knew exactly when Barty was vulnerable. He had been observing him for months now. Several times, yes, he had thought about grabbing him, and bringing him back to his own apartment — that had nothing to do with Barty’s, by the way. Evan’s place was always more or less messy, and as he never opened the windows, a musty smell was always floating in the air. He was leaving finished cups of instant noodles around, and he was never changing his sheets, postponing laundry all the time. But for Barty, he’d make an effort. He’d clean a bit. Change the sheets. Buy something else than cup noodles.

He had thought about it several times; Evan was taller than Barty, so it wouldn’t be too hard, and he didn’t seem to have any family, or any relatives close to him that could get worried for him. Oh, of course, he was the head of his company, and he spent most of his time there, but would people really make a big deal out of it? Evan had figured out his company’s business was some sort of shell company, so they wouldn’t claim too loudly that they had issues, or else press would get their nose in their dirty clothes. Maybe they’d send people, their own people, the mafia perhaps.

But Evan knew that he was better than them. He knew everything about them. He would beat them at their game, without a single doubt. He knew the emplacement and the operating hours of every single camera in the area; he knew the timetables of half of their staff. He had estimated what sort of budget they could have left undeclared that they could potentially use to search for their CEO, though this last one, it was only a personal estimation. He knew the number plates of all of their vehicles; Evan had always been good with numbers and memorising them in specific orders. He knew exactly where they wouldn’t be able to find them. So even if they tried to find Barty by themselves, it wouldn’t stop Evan.

No, really, the only reason Evan hadn’t locked Barty in his two-room apartment yet, was that he liked the chase too much. He wanted it to last. As long as possible. And he liked the thrill of knowing that Barty could slip through his fingers at any time… though he knew more about Barty than the latter knew himself. If Barty decided to disappear now, it would have to be the most sudden and organised thing he had ever done in his entire life.

He liked seeing Barty in his field, in his environment, looking hot and clueless, so far and yet so close to him. Evan was into that. He craved him more than anything; but he was taking a sick satisfaction in seeing him unaware of him lurking in his shadow, calculating every next move he would do. He was the only focus in Evan’s life; to Evan’s complete satisfaction.

People dodged Evan, who was only looking at Barty, piercing a hole in his back with his eyes, with how heavily he was staring. Barty could probably feel his gaze, at this point.

Slowly, the streets Barty was walking through, was passing by to get to his unknown destination, were getting less and less crowded, until he walked in a rather large dead end, only lit by one big tired neon light hanging on the crusty wall. It was blinking, and since the dead end was rather long and large, almost as large as the main street, Evan walked in, taking the risk to have to face Barty for following all this time.

Barty stopped. So did Evan, his steps sounding annoyingly too loud against the ground. Barty did not turn around; maybe he hadn’t heard him yet. Was it now? Was it now that Evan was taking his chance? Bringing him to his apartment? They were too far away. It was better if Evan ran away quickly before Barty could see his face.

He didn’t get to do this.

“Crouch, we have the money. Do you—” The voice stopped. A hand suddenly passed in front of Evan’s eyes, and an arm constricted his throat. The hand ended on his mouth, stopping him from screaming or saying any word. Quickly he was fully immobilised. Oh, maybe it was now. Not the now he had meant when he walked in this dead end a few seconds ago, but still. Maybe it was now the end, maybe they were going to get rid of him.

Money? An arm around his throat, holding him in place? Nobody safe was doing that on a first meeting. He was maybe going to get killed. In front of Barty. Even when he tried to grab the arm, Evan found himself completely helpless, unable to get himself out of the grip. He hadn’t even seen that person arrive. He didn’t know who it was, but they were strong. He was getting weaker as the grip was getting stronger, and he was feeling his limbs go numb.

What kind of meeting was this?

Barty slowly turned around, hands in his pockets, shoulders relaxed, and he looked at Evan for a long time before speaking, finally.

“Let go of him.”

Nobody moved. Evan’s chest raised slowly, up and down, as he refused to look away from Barty. We was a true sight, as always. Evan wouldn’t have minded dying here, but he didn’t die that day.

“Who is he?” The man behind Evan, in his back, said. “Do you know him?”

Evan glanced at Barty defiantly.

“You wouldn’t want someone to die tonight, would you? This exchange isn’t supposed to be a blood bath,” Barty shrugged, a smirk at the corner of his lips, rolling his eyes playfully.

This made the man behind Evan consider it quietly for a few seconds, before letting go of Evan, suddenly releasing him, which lead to Evan fall on the floor, blood slowly coming back to his legs and arms. He coughed, feeling pathetic.

“Good,” Barty lowly said.

Evan looked up. Barty was looking down at him, still with his little smirk. Then he took a sort of USB key from his pocket, and he added:

“You said you have the money?”

From behind him, Evan heard some clicking noises. He was too confused to consider everything around him; at this exact moment, he just wondered how he could have not predicted this, and how he hadn’t had a single clue about anything that was happening around him.

At some point Barty was handed a case, and he handed the key in return.

He nodded slightly. “Good. You can go now.”

“What are you going to do with this man?”

“I’m going to deal with him,” Barty replied, looking back down at Evan who was still catching his breath on the floor — the man’s grip was no joke —, a crooked smile on his lips. “Don’t worry about him,” He added, looking back up.

The men behind Evan left. After a minute, Barty crouched down to Evan’s level. Evan was still unable to speak, as if his vocal cords had been irremediably crushed.

“You thought I didn’t see you follow me there?” He said, the first words he ever addressed to him.

Evan opened his mouth, but no sound came out of it. He decided to give up on words, and instead he defiantly shrugged at him. It made Barty’s downward smile grow bigger.

“Thought I didn’t see you all this time?”

Evan wondered what he meant. He couldn’t think straight; it was the first time he was seeing him from this close. He was beautiful. He was leaning in Evan’s personal space as if it was natural.

Mechanically, Evan shook his head, though he didn’t even remember the question.

Barty reached for his face, patting his head, running his fingers through Evan’s locks. “Your hair was messy,” He said, sliding his finger to his jawline, tracing it, before lifting his chin. A chill ran down Evan’s spine. He was hypnotised, like he had never been hypnotised before. “I hate when they’re too brutal,” He concluded, as if it was an absolutely normal conclusion to come to. “Come here,” He said, as he stood up, holding out his hand to him.

Evan took his hand, and stood up. He felt dizzy for a second, before regaining his full composure.

He was still holding Barty’s hand, when he pushed him against the nearest wall, with the intention to make him pass out, to give himself some time to run away. He was upset. He had missed his chance; he felt like months of following him had just been thrown away. Would he be able to stay away from him? His one and only obsession? Now, everything was ruined.

Barty’s back hit the wall brutally, and he did not even wince. He smirked. Swiftly, as if he was doing this every day, he somehow got his hands out of Evan’s grip, and quickly grabbed drawstrings on the hood of his sweatshirt, to wrap them around Evan’s neck. He expertly tightened the drawstrings, making Evan strangled for the second time in very little time.

Evan heard a smirk in Barty’s voice, though he couldn’t fully see his face anymore because his hood was falling in front of his eyes. “Easy, easy, easy. Easy there,” He almost chuckled. “Do you really want to die tonight, or what?”

Sighing, Evan stopped resisting, and brought his hands, clumsily, panicked, to his throat, trying to loosen the drawstrings around his neck. Barty released him, before pushing him away a little.

Evan tried to say something; his voice, hoarse, came out of his throat like a croak. He coughed a bit again.

“I don’t want to die tonight,” He ended up saying, his mind blank. His brain was probably not getting enough blood, which lead to the most out of pocket answers; he would never have answered that if he had had his full capacity.

Barty smiled more. “Good,” And then, he held out his hand, as Evan was still holding his throat.

Evan looked up. “What?” He hoarsely replied.

“Come here.”

Hesitantly, Evan took his hand, his other hand still on his throat.

“Don’t be so shy,” Barty smirked as soon as they were holding hands. “Aren’t you my biggest fan? No need to get nervous. I know you weren’t when you kept watching me for months, or if you had felt any shame at any point, you would have stopped. Right, you would have?”

Evan almost blushed. “I didn’t feel any shame.”

They intensely stared at each other; Barty was still smirking; Evan hadn’t imagined him to be smiling so much. And not even in his wildest dreams he was imagining him smile at him like that.

Barty started walking again.

“Where are we going?” Evan asked blandly.

“To my place.”

THE END.

[grapejuicestyless]

hey, i eat up everything you write!!! i would love to request maybe a sunshine y/n vs grumpy Conrad (or harry .. I think it will work for either) set in college ! maybe it’s because i’m in uni right now but i am a true sucker for uni based stories 🥲😭 maybe she could be an art major or literature? … eee just an idea !!! thank you 🌟🫶🏻🧚🏻

Mona Lisa

Harry Styles x fem!reader

Summery: You always kept your head up. Each inconvenience was simply a coincidence. But even the biggest balls of sunshine need a break sometimes.

Her chest expanded out, cheeks puffed up, lips pursed in a tight line. Her hands shook under the weight of her textbooks. Her tote bag was slung over her shoulder, but the cautious girl feared that even with the extra wiggle room between the canvas bag, all her things would break it and leave her with nothing at all to aid her.

Her late start had taken the energy out of her, the stairs had taken away her willpower, and the red marks littering her latest exam papers had taken away her spirit. Paint cracked over her knuckles and glasses pulling her hair back, she heard her mothers voice in her head.

“Don’t do that, you’ll stretch them out and they won’t fit properly. Though they still seemed to fit fine, the slight sliding down the bridge of her nose every so often proved her mother right.

She had picked art as her major. She had ambitions, goals and aspirations. Her past teachers had complemented her craftsmanship. Her skill behind an easel. Picking up her paper as an example, using her to demonstrate how to execute certain techniques. It didn’t excuse her from her other classes, however. That was her own decision to make. The idea of having no other classes but ones revolving around the arts would drive her academic side crazy. So each new semester, she enrolled herself into a few classes she didn’t really need to take, but would enjoy. Or so she thought.

It wasn’t like she was stupid, she thrived in the past. In many ways, she was a poet. She had a mind like no other, the words would simply come to head as soon as the pen hit the paper. But math taken away her vanity, and history was a drag more so than not. God, she couldn’t bear to sit through another lecture about some old white guy who would otherwise mean nothing to anyone if it weren’t for the many who refused to let them and their scandalous actions go.

Y/n knew better than to complain. She knew how privileged she was to even be able to attend a school as such. She didn’t have the wealth, but she had the motivations in her past that had driven her to a certain level of success. Something good enough to land her scholarships. She was good at keeping her head up, more so than not. Each struggle would only create another work for her to make.

It was normal to feel down, even knowing this. She was simply glad to be able to step over the threshold to her apartment. The key couldn’t turn fast enough in her eyes. All she longed for was a little warmth and maybe a cup of coffee to keep her going for the rest of the day. More than that, she longed for him. The man who so graciously wrapped his arms around her shoulder every night and whispered sweet nothings to her. Singing messy melodies and dedicating the lyrics to her while she sleeps.

Her shoulders sagged, only to stiffen when she saw how the December nip had come through her roommates open window.

But she didn’t grumble something mean under her breath. She had known she must’ve done it once or twice before too. Her roommate who she loved very much surely hadn’t meant any harm.

Her slippers were inviting, and his sweatshirt hanging by her door was the final piece she was missing. His smell, welcoming and warm. He smelled of toasted vanilla and pine. There were hints of hair gel in the sleeves, from how often he ran his hands through his hair. She didn’t mind the fray in the hem or how the strings were missing from the hood. It was Harry in every sense. And it was enough for her.

She thought that was the end of it, truly. She figured she could take a deep breather and let the stress of the day ease out of her veins. That now, with the university behind her and her classes over for the day, she could settle into her work and let the soft melodies of her playlist distract her.

Sitting on the floor, her legs folded neatly in front of her, she picked up her brush delicately between her fingers and her thumb, twiddling it around and biting her lips. When she went to reach for the paint the cap seemed looser than usual. When she picked it up, the top fell to the floor, spinning out to a step a few feet away. Her acrylic dried out presumably from sitting open for days while she worked on her studies and pushed away her art classes.

Portfolios were bare, sketchbooks a mess and worse, she was falling so far behind she was grinding out projects at an inhuman pace. All to simply be rejected or judged poorly. Nothing was ever enough and soon she would become just another burn out if she couldn’t pull it together.

Picking up the bottle, she searched for any signs of wet paint still surviving. She squeezed and turned it hoping to find a glimmer of anything. When she let go, in defeat, remaining acrylic splattered across her cheats and into her hair. Sticky and half dried.

Setting the bottles down, she reminded herself to breathe. To remember how she’d even got here. She was lucky, she had already made it farther than most of her old peers.

‘It couldn’t possibly get any worse.’ She thought out loud, keeping up her fading smile to try and keep her eye from twitching. Ever the optimist, she decided to simply move on, enjoy a nice brewed cup of coffee before settling down to watch one of the shows she had thrown herself into to distract her from the harsh realities of the stressful life she was living currently.

Trudging a few feet from her room to the kitchen, she saw the counter sprinkled with brown and white sugars and flour. It was a mess, one her lovely roommate had left, but one she could deal with later. She didn’t mind the chaos so much.

What she did mind was the sticky note attached to the coffee pot, stained brown on the bottom, grounds stuck underneath it on the stove. It was pink with curly lettering and a half hearted frowning face. ‘Out of coffee. Running to the store tonight after class.’ It read.

It shouldn’t have pissed her off, but her blood was heating up and her brain pounded in her skull. She couldn’t cozy up, it was far too cold. Fine. Her paint was dried. She was tired a few night ago, honest mistake. She could go buy more soon. Her coffee was gone. She found it in herself to brush it off, smiling to herself at the sight of a fresh pot of coffee for the morning. The longer the wait, the more worth it, it would surely be. She could be patient. She was patient.

She would focus her anger into something productive. She could wash the dishes, she guessed. Clean out the sink that was littered in stained plates and empty mugs. She would scrub until her fingers resembled those of her grandmas. Finger tips littered with wrinkles from decades of love, only hers would be shriveled from the constant presence of water bathing them.

And she forgot about her worries for a minute. Hot water running over her skin, mug slowly filling under the stream of water as her eyes drifted off. She saw herself sock clad feet, dancing along the tiled floors to a soft melody that resembled a love song. And beside her was a larger pair of feet, swaying along to the beat and laughing along about how neither of them knew how to dance. But they would learn.

They had the whole world at their feet and their youth still surrounding them. These were the good years, and it could only get better.

The door opened with such veracity, she was so sure it would come off the hinges. Startled, her head whipped to the door, already on edge, already struggling to calm herself down.

“Y/n/n?” His accent was thick and low. She had never felt more relieved to see someone so much.

His eyes were the purest shade of green she had ever seen. They put her art to shame. It’s why she never painted him. There was more mixture of colors that could capture the way they twinkled. Even when they were dim with anger or despair, they held so much depth it felt so impossible to paint. No talent could make her lose herself in the greens like his eyes could.

“Harry.” She breathed his name out like it was the best thing she could ever have. He could see the way her eyes gleamed and glistened at him, lips pulled into a genuine smile, softer than usual, but he blamed it on her eight a.m class.

She smelled like espresso, the coffee pot filling with murky water in the sink. Coffee and paint. She didn’t set the mug running under the water down, but the overflow splashing onto her knuckles reminded her to put it on the drying rack.

When she turned, he was there, a hand guiding her closer to him on her back, and lowered eyes looking into hers.

His lips felt like heaven on hers, and she wished he would have kept them there forever, but much to her dismay, he pulled away just as quickly as he came. Already dropping his bags down and grumbling about something that had happened in his organic chemistry class. Something about his professor, or whatever. She stopped listening to lean on the counter, she reminded herself to try and breathe.

“God, he’s such a moron.” He moaned, rubbing his temples. She did the same with her back turned. When she faced him, she plastered on a false smile.

“It can’t be that bad.” She tried to reason. He rolled his eyes, grumbling about how she was far too kind, too patient. So she turned her back to him again, fighting away the urge to grumble something back to him. Kindness was not the same as optimism, something that was wearing very thin in the usually very bubbly girl. It was that trait she carried so much over that balanced out the bad that Harry could bring. His glass-half-empty point of view and his constant grumbling about anyone who wasn’t her.

He continued complaining about his day, unaware of how his love was just a few feet away, struggling from her own stress, gripping the counter so harshly her knuckles turned white.

“Sometimes I wish I was an art major like you. God, it seems so much easier.” He didn’t mean it like that, she knew he didn’t mean it like that. She agreed, even. After all, she wasn’t taking organic chemistry or studying the human body in such depth as he did. She studied Van Gogh and Picasso. The crazy man who really wasn’t all that crazy who cut off his own ear. She reminded herself to breathe, just breathe. But when she took that deep breath in, it got stuck.

Why couldn’t she breathe? Why was it stuck in her throat, refusing to escape? She grew frustrated, not with him, but with herself. Tears brimmed her eyes so much, even the plates right beside her blurred into a haze of nothing. There was nothing left to distract her, to keep her up. The sink was empty, she was just running the water by now. And the sound of it should have calmed her but instead she felt very similarly to some of the greats. She could cover her ears and scream all she wanted. But would it ever be heard?

The soft shaking of her shoulders alerted him first. How pitiful she sounded, silently crying and huffing up small gasps to keep her sorrow that way. But he was so smart, in her eyes, even though he thought the exact opposite, even smarter than herself. He knew before she could even try to pull herself together.

“Love, hey.” His voice was soft, like he was unsure of what to do. And when he turned, he couldn’t help but feel ashamed. There she was, his love crying and falling apart so openly and all he could do was stand there like a big idiot.

Luckily for him, she’d made the first move, wrapping her arms up around him so tightly, all he had to do was pull her closer.

“Y/n/n, whats wrong?” He rubbed her hair, pulling the ends gently between his fingers.

“I’m a failure!” It was rare that Y/n broke down like this. It seemed impossible on some days. How upbeat and unfazed she carried herself. Always walking around with a warm smile plastered on her face. But she was only human. It had to happen sometimes. It was only natural.

Pulling her away, he held onto her to keep her steady. His thumbs rubbed at her tears gently. Her gorgeous eyes, once sparkling were now clouded by her own sadness. A wave of emotion he somehow hadn’t read from her moments ago.

“I mean, look at me, Harry! I’m barely scraping by in my math class, I’ve been surviving off of the same three paintings all semester and I smell like wet dirt! And don’t you dare say I don’t because I can smell it and I can see the grounds on my skin! Right next to the dry paint that I can’t even use!” Harry couldn’t help the way he laughed. Not at her, but for her. To her, the smell of coffee and paint was something so sickening. He would think the same if he were her. Inhaling the fumes every second of his life for years. But to him, she was a breath of fresh air. The chaos in her life something so extraordinary compared to his LED white lab lifestyle he had submitted himself to.

His hand wrapped around hers, which was now poking into his chest pathetically, her lips quivering like it physically pained her to be so upset.

“What?” She sniffled, almost embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze. Normally so stone cold, but one she had learned to read over time. The very small changes in the way he crinkled his nose or moved his brows. She couldn’t read it now, though. Not with the blinding tears falling down her cheeks.

There was no amount of times Harry could swipe his thumbs over her cheek, more and more would stain them it seemed like. And he didn’t quite get it. How could he? While she was breaking down about her failures all he could see was a woman who had already given so much and held no bitterness to those who caused her the pain. She could only reflect it back onto herself.

And while she talked down on herself, crying about her stress and how run down she must have looked to him, all Harry could think was how she could be Mona Lisa if Mona Lisa had a prettier face.

“Nothing.” He whispered, voice sticky and wet from not talking for so long. Her tears rolled down slower until nothing was left, eyes stuck forever searching his for any sign of disgust, but it never came.

“I just love you, is all.” Y/n could’ve laughed at how sappy her otherwise grumpy boyfriend was being. His dopey smile and kind eyes looking at her in a way she hadn’t seen all day. She almost forgot completely why she was upset, if it weren’t for the empty hole in her heart still eating away at her.

“I love you too.” She laughed, more so at herself than him at how quickly her frown had turned into a smile.

“Good.” He took her hand, slotting her arm around the small of his back so that his could rest over her shoulders. He could rest his head over hers and whisper all the sweet nothings that always seemed to charm her into a lavender haze.

And the laughter she emitted only reminded the both of them of how peaceful even the heaviest of rains could be.

To Harry, in many ways Y/n was the sun. Sometimes the clouds like to cover it, but they always pass by, and the sun comes out again.

[rottiens]

✮ tags. . vampire gojo x afab! human reader, helltown au. divider creds: cafekitsune.

✮ cw. . 1.5k

It's late in Helltown, your boots struggle against the pile of white snow under your heavy boots and every so often you sniffle through your nose looking to somehow escape the cold that builds up on your face, exposed to your least favorite weather. 

The trees rise above your head and lull you as if they carry words inside their leaves, autumn is giving way to winter and the whole transition, along with the news that has filled the papers these past weeks gives the picture a gloomy tone. Your hands are inside your coat while an icy air escapes through your pale lips.

You shouldn't be out on the street so late, much less alone, much less with the news of the disappearance of those young women.

It wasn't just disappearance. It was the murder of that young woman who studied at the same university where you teach and then her best friend who had been missing since Halloween night and of whom nothing was known after that day. The parents had announced rewards, and the local police were scraping clues even under the rocks; however no one had heard anything from her or anyone had managed to provide relevant information.

You grab the edge of the coat around your neck and pull it upwards in an attempt to battle the cold as your steps quicken, you are close to your house, however due to the lack of movement on the avenue it feels more like a much longer walk than it really is. All the doors and windows are closed, including the houses and premises, you only have the company of pale light bulbs illuminating the entrances and your way home. 

A shiver runs down your back as the wind howls around you, a foreboding feeling tells you that you are not alone, though you dismiss one terrifying idea after another as this can and must be due to your suggestion. You grab the pepper spray inside your pocket as if your life depended on it and quickly turn around to verify that it was all in your head, holding the white bottle at the level of your head, your finger trembling on the tip of it. 

The wind roars in your ears, the noise of the blood pumping overwhelms your senses. In the distance you hear fluttering and your eyes snap, checking the shadows for movement within them. You remain in this position for a few seconds, frozen in time, until your legs tingle with warm blood and you return to the front to hurry on your way. 

Turning your eyes forward you meet a pair of piercing blue eyes that lock with yours for a few seconds before the man quickly looks away, you stifle a scream by clenching your jaw and the adrenaline makes you spray the pepper near his shoes. 

You take two steps back, raising the pepper spray to a considerable height. The blue-eyed man wears a baggy black hooded sweatshirt and a leather jacket of the same color over it making uncovering the features of his face an impossible task. 

“That's not how you use pepper spray,” he says in a strangely friendly voice.

You look him up and down wondering where he came from, though the voice sounds familiar, you don't remember seeing him anywhere before. Although you can't tell for sure since most of his face is covered, all you can see are those intense blue eyes scanning you up and down. 

“Tell me who you are or I'm going to scream,” you warn him, raising the spray to the level of his face. 

He raises his gloved hands to his chest in surrender. 

“Hey, take it easy. It's me.” He brings his hands to his hood and pulls it back to reveal a shock of white hair swirling in the icy wind. 

“Oh my...” Your horror turns to panic as you realize you were about to ruin the eyes of the new Biology teacher's assistant, he had only just moved to town a few weeks ago. You slowly shake your head, moving the spray away from his field of vision, back into your pockets. “I'm so sorry,” you utter, your panic slowly transforming into an embarrassment that burns like a torch on your face. 

“It's okay,” he smiles sideways, pulling the hood back over his head. “You acted properly.” 

The now not-so-stranger looks you up and down again, with those blue eyes that break the harmony of the white snow.  You run away from them when you get the chance, hurrying your pace along with him who starts walking with you.

“It's terribly cold.” You laugh, downplaying the sudden fear that still rubs your veins against each other. “I'm freezing,” you try to make it sound like something to break the tense moment, but your voice comes out cracked as you hide your face in your coat at the same time as you lift your shoulders to get out of the chill. 

“It is dangerous for you to be out here.” He looks down at you, you can feel it out of the corner of your eye. 

“I know,” you stutter, avoiding those haunting eyes. “You mean because of the deaths and stuff?” As soon as you add the last you regret it, you really didn't want to talk about it. “I was running late reading my students' papers, then visiting my grandparents,” you add, giving him explanations he doesn't need to hear but you feel somehow compelled to say. “I hope the police catch them soon, whoever the culprit is,” you finally say with a frown, remembering the news.

“Hm.” Is all that comes from his lips. “Mind if I walk with you? I live close by anyway.”  

At the proposal your heart pumps fast. Despite the fear you feel, you think it's better to accept than to walk alone. You nod, swallowing hard. Saliva cuts your dry throat.

You say your name waiting for him to introduce himself. “I haven't seen you around here before? Are you new to the neighborhood?”

“Yeah, I just moved in a little while ago. I- I've been watching you,” he whispers, you stop walking abruptly looking at him with wide eyes and quivering lips, pepper spray hovering against your fingers hidden in your pockets. The man stares at you for a few more seconds, before throwing his body back, chuckling. “I meant to say that I've observed your classes and you're good, my name is Gojo Satoru.” 

You relax a little at the joke, forcing a smile but still tightening your spray, maybe you were too tense, maybe your friend's assistant... Satoru, how he had introduced himself, was nothing more than that. So still with your nerves making your senses more responsive you decide to keep walking beside him.

“Thank you,” you reply. “My house is the next one,” you point to a tall brick house around the corner.

“All right.” He walks in the same direction you pointed, still staying close to you. His steps are light, as if he's gliding along the sidewalk. “I imagine your husband must be worried.” You look at him briefly, clearly confused. “I mean the man who comes to pick you up from college sometimes...”

“Oh,” you chuckle. “No, no, that's just a friend. No husband... I live with my friend,” you say. “But now she's visiting her parents for the vacations.” This time your eyes go to him shortly, hair escaping through his hood in white snowflakes, falling softly over his eyes.

You flee to the road before he can notice, your cheeks burning. As you stand in front of the door, you pull your keys out of your backpack.

“Thanks for walking me out, Satoru.”

“No problem. I'm glad I could help you get home safe and sound.” He gives you a warm smile even though you can't appreciate the fear and hesitation of the moment. 

You want to invite him in and be nice, but you know your friend would slap you if you told her about the stranger you let in the house knowing there's a killer on the loose. So you smile weakly at him and lean your body forward momentarily in a bow.

“I'll see you at school,” you say instead. 

Satoru doesn't reply anything else. He remains still, standing a few feet from the front door, waving his fingers in a goodbye that you cut off as you close the wooden door. Inside, the heat envelops you and you let out a purr of reassurance. Warmth surrounds your neck and cheeks cool as a woolen scarf, and you sigh in relief, letting out the fear and tension that encounter had caused you.

Satoru was a interesting guy… You try hard not to think of situations that might make your job uncomfortable, but you can't help the questions that arise in your mind. You wish, deep down, to know a little more about this mysterious man.

[impala-dreamer]

Cherry Wine

A Tale from the 'My Bloody Valentine' Universe

~Tom left town in a hurry, escaping capture by faking his death. On the run and distraught, he finds comfort in the arms of a stranger.~

Tom Hanniger x Rose (OFC)

2,453 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Sexual Scenes. Torture. Bondage. Psychosis. Movie Level Blood and Gore.

A/N: Written for @jacklesversebingo "Be good for me and I'll untie you."

This takes place immediately after the film and shows Tom still dealing with his issues, namely murder. If you're unfamiliar with the movie, I doubt it will matter. Just know that he is insane and dangerous. Hope you enjoy!

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

He didn't know where he was going, but he knew he couldn't go home.

He didn't even know where home was anymore. Was it back in Harmony surrounded by memories and the corpses of his childhood? Or back in the hospital with all of his twisted pain and overly medicated thoughts?

He didn't know.

So he drove.

He drove until the sun rose and hung high in the sky, blossoming over the Pennsylvania landscape like the face of God. Bright and warm, it beat down on the maroon truck as trees blurred in his peripheral.

When the gas tank was as empty as his stomach, he pulled off of the interstate and parked, taking only his wallet and jacket with him.

The late afternoon was warm. February had been uncharacteristically mild, and he tugged at the collar of his sweatshirt, readjusting the hood behind his head.

Bill’s Diner was open and crowded. Tables lined the big front window, each red vinyl booth filled with locals who chatted over never-ending cups of coffee and plates of over-done french fries.

A little bell rang overhead as he walked in, and a pretty brunette with long hair pulled back into a tight bun smiled.

“Sit anywhere, hun,” she called to him while navigating the sea of tables with her hands full.

Tom nodded and looked around for an empty spot before deciding on a stool at the counter. He sat and slumped forward, clasped his hands on the sticky linoleum. He stared at his hands, willing the trembling to cease, but it never really went away. He was always just a little bit anxious, some part of him always shaking even if no one else saw.

Trauma had slashed at his soul and the scars ran deep.

A deep breath steadied him and Tom looked up as the waitress came into view.

“Hey there. Welcome to Bill’s. Can I getcha something to drink?”

Her smile was captivating. Her two front teeth were adorably bigger than the rest and her plump bow lips were tinted gently with a red gloss that made them look forever wet.

He couldn’t help but stare.

She blinked and looked away, pale skin blushing a soft pink under his gaze. Bright blue eyes gleamed when she turned back and Tom’s chest ached.

She reminded him of Sarah but a little plainer, a little softer all over.

“Hello?”

She waved a hand in front of his face and Tom startled, sitting up straight and shaking his head to clear his vision.

“Sorry,” he said with a sigh. “Long drive.”

The waitress nodded and grabbed a mug from below the counter. “I bet.” She filled it with coffee and slid it to Tom who smiled and closed his hands around the cup. “You coming or going?”

He bit his lip, wondering how to answer. Where was he coming from? Where was he going? To hell, probably.

Tired green eyes swept over her. The plastic buttons on her white shirt were tiny and struggling to keep the thin fabric from pulling open across her breasts. Her dark jeans were tight and dusted with flour and a few drops of marinara that had slipped past her black apron. Her curves were decadent and she smelled like vanilla.

He cleared his throat. “Just passing through.”

She smiled kindly and laid a plastic covered menu next to his coffee.

“Well, alright then, stranger. My name’s Rose. When you’re ready, just holler.” She winked and turned away, leaving him to scan the day’s specials alone.

The giant clock in the corner ticked the hours away. Customers came and went. Coins were dropped; tips were thin. Empty plates smeared with ketchup stacked up in the kitchen; spilled salt was wiped from table tops with a dingy rag.

Rose was busy most of the evening, but never too busy to stop back at the counter and talk with Tom. She lingered near him, pretending to clean while they chatted about how it hadn’t snowed in a few weeks and how the price of gas was going down a bit. She was sweet and Tom liked being near her. She was beautiful and her voice was like a calm breeze that lulled and comforted him.

When the windows were dark and the fuchsia neon glowed bright, Rose set her hands on the counter and looked down at him.

“Closing time, buddy. You don’t have to go home, butcha can’t stay here.”

He looked up through thick lashes and smiled flirtatiously. “Already?”

Rose licked her lips. “Sadly, yes. All good things must come to an end. Or so I’m told.”

“That’s a shame.” Without looking away, he drained the sweet swill from the bottom of his mug. “There any place to get a drink around here?” He paused, calculating her interest, and then went for it. He had nothing to lose. “Or maybe I could walk you home…”

Rose’s cheeks burned and her smile was impossible to hide. “Maybe both.”

Tom rolled onto his back and stretched, rolling his head on his shoulders and taking a deep breath. He hadn’t slept so well in a long time; hadn’t felt so good in forever.

Rose had been just what he needed.

They sat on her cinnamon couch and drank sparkling pink wine. Tom hated it, but the bubbles felt nice and each sip seemed to loosen her up a bit more.

When the bottle was empty and the glasses drained, Rose scooted closer and set her hand on Tom’s knee. He bit his lip as her fingers climbed higher, held his breath as she palmed his dick through his jeans, let his eyes close as she climbed into his lap.

She was heavy and warm. He ran his hands down her sides, slid his fingers around the curve of her waist. She pressed her ass down over him and rolled her hips.

He hissed at the friction and pushed a hand through her long hair, dragging her down for a kiss.

Her lips were plump and delicious. The gloss on her mouth tasted so familiar to him but he couldn’t place it.

“I never do this,” she whispered, half laughing as she ran her hands down his chest.

Tom grinned and traced the soft flesh above her jeans. “I don’t know, you’re pretty good at it.”

She chewed her lip and blushed. “I mean, take customers home. I haven’t done this in forever.”

He stared deep into her eyes and popped the bottom button of her shirt. “Well, I’m glad you decided to.” He scraped his nails down her sides and Rose’s head tipped back, her eyes fluttered shut, she hummed lustfully.

“Me too…”

He smiled and tossed the sheet off of himself; sat up and scrubbed a hand down his face. He’d have to shave soon, but it wasn’t a priority. He scratched at his scalp and yawned.

“Mornin’.”

Tom sucked a strawberry nipple between his lips and melted at the sound she made. Rose arched her back, pushing her tits against his face and grinding down on his cock.

They were mostly naked, shirts and jeans tugged away and tossed into random corners of the small living room. Only thin fabric separated them now, and Tom rubbed his middle finger against her covered slit. Her raspberry panties were soaked.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

Rose nibbled on his ear. “Wanna see the bedroom?”

He jerked his hips, bounced her in his lap. “Absolutely…”

The bedroom was flooded with mid-day sun that filtered through the thin curtains, and he stood up in a sun puddle, feeling the warmth instantly. He sighed and walked to the adjoining bathroom.

The tile floor was freezing and he tiptoed in, pulled back the shower curtain and turned on the tap.

“You don’t mind if I take a quick shower, do you?”

She was total perfection.

Stretched out over the bed, her pale skin looked like fresh cream against the burgundy sheets. She moaned as he tied the silken sash tight around her left wrist, squirmed as he leaned over her to secure the right.

“Another thing I never do,” she teased, reaching with her mouth to catch a kiss.

“What’s that? Let a stranger tie you up?” His smile was devilish yet sweet and he gave in to a deep kiss.

“Not exactly a safe thing to do…”

He licked into her mouth; savored the taste of her. “No,” he laughed, pulling back to look down at her. “It’s really not.”

Blue eyes fluttered as Tom drew his hands down her nakedness. He cupped each breast, pinched her nipples, scraped his teeth against the stiff buds.

“Fuck, you’re driving me nuts,” she whimpered, tugging at the restraints, needing to touch him.

He settled between her thighs, his broad shoulders pushing them open wide. “That’s kinda the point.”

His tongue burned like fire against her clit. He nuzzled into her, lapped at her slick heat, teased her to the edge of ecstacy.

Rose bucked her hips into his handsome face, held her breath as he slipped two thick fingers inside. Her body tensed. Her mind blanked. Her pulse quickened.

“Fuck. Please…”

Again, she tugged at the sashes holding her tight and Tom lifted his eyes. He grinned at her struggle.

“Be good for me,” he breathed, “and I’ll untie you.”

Heavy, warm steam filled the room as Tom lingered by the sink. He toyed with her toothbrush, sifted through her medicine cabinet. There wasn’t much inside and everything was expected. Floss, antibiotic ointment, a few hairpins. Half a bottle of aspirin, tweezers, lotion.

He smiled. Her skin was so soft.

He slipped in like a knife through warm butter, filling her up with his thick cock.

Tom thrust against her; dug his fingertips into the soft flesh above her hip bones. “Fuck, you’re amazing,” he moaned, his eyes closed, head thrown back as her body tightened around him.

Rose held her breath, wriggling harder beneath him with each jerk of his hips.

“Please!”

He looked down at her wet, ruby lips and smiled. Leaning down, he folded her nearly in half and scratched hard down her sides. She squirmed and garnet lines erupted in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

His pace quickened. She moaned loudly over the sound of his thighs slapping against her ass.

“Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race.

Rose was panting, choking on her pleasure as he fucked deep into her.

“Tom-”

He closed a hand around her delicate throat, massaged the sacred arteries on either side.

She thrashed against the bindings; eyes wide and lips growing pale.

He squeezed harder and he felt her cunt pulse as she came. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, riding her through the pleasure. “Just like that. Fuck!”

Tom closed the cabinet door. He swept away the fog with his palm and looked into his own eyes. He was happy, sated and beaming.

His lips were ruddy and swollen a deep red. He pressed his fingertips to them and sighed. He could still feel her kiss, taste her on his tongue.

She tasted like cherry wine.

He kissed her gently yet deeply, memorizing the feel of her plush lips against his and the way she melted into him. His cum ran down her leg, warm and messy.

He pulled away and rolled onto his side, yanked the thin sheet up around his shoulders.

She slept soundly; he mumbled in his sleep.

Tom stepped into the hot water and moaned happily. The pressure was sublime. Water pounded his aching muscles, burned his skin blissfully.

He ran his hands through his hair and turned around to face the spray. It washed down his cheeks, flowed into his mouth. He looked down at the drain and gasped as a whirlpool of crimson swirled around the chrome and disappeared.

“The fuck?”

His mind raced.

His hands were stained with dried blood; his forearms scored with claw marks.

He panicked, panting as the water washed the night away and his memory returned.

He ripped through her skin like a knife through warm butter.

Tom jabbed the blade into her; dug the tip into the soft flesh above her hip bones.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he growled, green eyes wide as he watched the blood flow from her sides.

Rose gasped for a breath and wrenched her arms free of the silk sashes. She slapped at his chest, shoved his face away.

“Please!”

He looked down at her gaping ruby lips and smiled. With a murderous gleam in his eyes, he scratched hard down her side with the knife and watched the garnet stream erupt in his wake.

“So gorgeous…”

She kicked at him, summoning all of her strength to push him off even as her energy seeped away and soaked into the sheets. “Please!”

Each scream egged him on. Every twist of her body beneath him made his heart race and his cock twitch.

Barely able to breathe, Tom burst from the shower and steadied himself on the sink, knuckles blanching as he held on tight. He forced himself to look at his reflection and nearly broke as he saw the lingering blood on his cheeks. The splatter had been fast and furious- an arterial spray that painted his face from temple to chin.

“Fuck…”

He closed his left hand around her delicate throat, harshly pinching the sacred arteries on either side.

Rose clawed at his arms, drawing blood as she fought for her life.

He squeezed harder and felt her pulse slow. Blue eyes were fading in a sea of wine, blood vessels bursting as his grip tightened.

“That’s it,” he grit, lifting the knife to her jaw. “Just like that.” He sliced through her vocal chords, silencing her cries forever. A sanguine tide covered her milky breasts, stained his steady hands.

Through a cloud of steam, Tom stumbled back into the bedroom and bit back a scream.

Rose was laid out on the right side of the bed, her naked body posed as if sleeping. Her throat was torn, her sides split, chest carved open exposing the pale bones caging her heart.

He swallowed down a wave of bile and fell to his knees.

“Not again…”

Above the bed, drawn in Rose’s blood, was a simple heart.

Tom laughed as the last bit of life drained from her beautiful face. He bent to kiss her cold lips, savoring the last taste of her, memorizing the soft push of her lips.

He licked the blood from his fingertips as he rolled over, tired and sated.

She tasted like cherry wine.

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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[fortheloveofwonderland]

Midnight | Chapter 8 | S.R

Not my gif. Gif does not depict appearance of reader

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

Chapter Summary - you find yourself in a compromising position and have to convince Spencer you’re on his side.

A/N - fun fact this was the second chapter I wrote when I started this fic as I knew exactly how I wanted their first time to play out. Enjoy the filth!

Pairing - unsub! Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - dark angst | smut | very eventual happy ending

Warnings - restraints, swearing, blood kink, bruises, mild strangulation, mentions of rapists and murder, making out, fingering, handjob, oral (fem receiving), slight edging, penetrative sex, unprotected sex.

WC - 5.8k

Chapter 8 - Dancing With the Devil

You roused from sleep slowly, feeling yourself ebbing into consciousness as your brain languidly woke itself up. For a brief and blissful few seconds you forgot where you were and the situation you were in. 

As you started to fade back into the living realm, the first thing that alerted you to the fact you weren’t at home in your own bed was when you tried to move your arms to rub your eyes. At first when they didn’t budge you thought maybe you were still asleep, not yet conscious enough to have control over your limbs. 

But when you tried again, you managed to move them an inch or so before you met resistance and something felt like it was tugging against your wrists. 

You blinked several times, trying to focus on your surroundings. But before you could take the room in, your eyes landed another set, sitting next to you on the bed and smiling softly at you. 

“You’re awake.” Spencer mumbled softly, looking at you like you were the most important thing in the world to him. 

You swallowed thickly as the memories came flooding back to you and you realised where you were. But that didn’t explain why you couldn’t move your arms. They weren’t at your sides, they were above your head. As if reading your thoughts Spencer spoke again.

“I’m sorry about the restraints, I wasn’t sure if I could trust you.” He nodded over your head and that’s when you realised something silky was wrapped around your wrists, one of his ties maybe? 

You tried to pull against them but met resistance again. You whimpered a little pathetically. 

“I’m sorry.” You chewed on your bottom lip. “I didn’t mean to stab you.” 

“I don’t care about that.” He rolled his eyes. “You disobeyed me.” 

You frowned a little, head still full of sleep as you tried to work out what he was talking about. The last few days had been a complete blur. 

“I don’t know what you mean.” You croaked. 

Spencer chuckled with a shake of his head, a slight amusement dancing in his eyes. 

“Oh please, I know everything.” He scoffed. “You called Luke. On a pay phone which he could easily have Garcia track if he wanted to. What did you say to him?”

Oh fuck, yes you had done that hadn’t you? It seemed like so long ago now, so much had happened since then it had slipped your mind. You swallowed thickly. 

“Nothing. I was just checking in. Do you really think I’d be so stupid as to tell him what’s going on? I’m complicit in all of this Spencer, if you go down I’m going down with you.” 

“I can’t be too careful, Y/N.” He clucked with an amused glint in his eyes. “I will not get caught.”

“Just untie me, we can talk.” You pleaded with him but he was shaking his head.

“No, not yet.” He chuckled a little which you found to be an oddly haunting noise.

He wore a pair of dark denim jeans paired with a zip up hooded sweatshirt with a white t-shirt peeking out over the top. You’d started to grow used to seeing him in this much more casual state but only when he went out to take care of business. 

“You know I don’t like to get my good suits covered in blood.” He remarked as if it was the most normal thing in the world to say.

As though you didn’t understand what he meant, he raised his arms, proffering his hands towards you. His large palms were caked in claret, his fingers too, you wouldn’t be surprised if it was under his nails as well. The blood had started to dry into the creases and wrinkles in his hands but in other places you could see it was still wet and sticky. The underside of that gold band he wore was reddened too. 

The sight should have disgusted you, caused you to gasp or try to squirm away from him. But you didn’t move, barely so much as blinked. Spencer was surprised by your calmness and decided to test the waters. 

He shuffled a little closer to you and raised his right hand towards your throat. He saw you swallow deeply as his hand ghosted across the thin flesh of your neck which bore bruises from the last time he’d wrapped his hand around your throat. 

You kept your eyes locked on his as he pressed his palm against your windpipe. You felt the tacky blood on your skin as he wrapped his fingers around your throat. But you showed no signs of intimidation. He didn’t apply pressure, he held you limply, all the while keeping the eye contact strong. He tried to read your expression, to ascertain whether or not you were just putting on a brave face. 

“Are you scared of me?” He decided to ask, keeping his hand in place on your neck.

“No,” you were quick to answer. “Should I be?” 

“I have you tied to a bed and my hand around your throat while I’m covered in another man’s blood. You tell me.” He grinned wildly down at you. 

“I’m not scared of you. I don’t think that you’d hurt me.” 

“I wouldn’t.” His smile was hurriedly replaced by a frown. “I would never hurt you.” 

“Then I have no reason to be scared. Untie me, Spence. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“No.” He shook his head, removing his hand from your neck, you could feel the blood he’d left behind on your skin. “I can’t be sure you won’t run away and turn me in.”

“Spencer, you’re an excellent profiler. Look at me, you’ll see I’m not lying to you.” 

You scrutinised you again, profiling you. But he quickly shook his head. 

“I can’t trust my own mind anymore.”

“Yes, you can.” You tried to insist. “I gave up a lot to help you, how can I prove to you that I’m not going to betray you?” 

His eyes wandered from your face for the first time, hungry eyes raking up and down your body that lay open to him on the bed. You wore a thin oversized t-shirt which made it painfully obvious to him that you didn’t wear a bra underneath. On the bottom you had on a small pair of bike shorts which allowed him a perfect view of your thighs. 

You felt a little hot under his gaze, swallowing hard as he regarded you with dark eyes. His pupils were blown out wide and you felt a heat spread between your legs. 

He raised his hand again, this time hovering it over your thigh. You found his gaze, trying to tell him with your eyes that you weren’t scared of him touching you. At that moment it was all you wanted. When he saw no signs of you wanting him to stop, he slowly lowered his hand until his palm was pressing against your thigh. He didn’t miss the way you seemed to relax at his touch.

Once again you felt the sticky substance transfer from Spencer’s hand to your skin and there was something so unbelievably sensual about it. He spread his fingers across your flesh, kneading his fingers into your thigh muscle and an involuntary gasp left your lips.

Spencer’s eyes darkened and his lip tugged up into a smirk. Your lips were parted and you were breathing heavily. He dared move his hand higher, leaving a trail of blood behind in his wake, until his fingers skimmed the hem of your shorts.

He’d wanted you for so long, it had been all he’d thought of as of late. And now it was possible he might actually get his wish. 

You gasped again, unable to stop from pressing your thighs together as a wave of pleasure wracked your body. Spencer didn’t miss it, and his smirk only grew. It was hard to fake those little, unconditioned responses.

When he removed his hand from your leg you whimpered slightly, making Spencer chuckle. His fingertips came to toy with the bottom of your shirt, fingering the fabric and turning it red. He waited for you to tell him to stop but you didn’t. You stayed quiet and kept eye contact with him, hoping your expression told him what your words couldn’t. 

When you didn’t offer up any resistance, he moved his hand beneath your shirt and brushed his palm over the planes of your stomach, across your ribcage and finally he moved to cup one of your breasts. Your nipple hardened almost instantly under his hand and he flicked it a few times with his finger, watching intently the way his hand moved beneath your shirt. 

You pressed your thighs together again and whined at the way in which it seemed to be so easy for him to turn you on. You let your eyes flick down to his crotch, wondering if you had the same effect on him. You felt heady when your eyes landed on the obvious tenting in his jeans. 

When he removed his hand from under your t-shirt you whined again, and Spencer chuckled darkly, adjusting himself a little on the bed. 

“Who knew you were such a little deviant, Y/N.” 

“We all have a dark side, Spencer.” You rolled your lip between your teeth. 

“You like that I killed those men.” He laughed, reaching behind himself and unsheathing the blade tucked in the back of his jeans. 

He held it up to the light, blood staining the otherwise shiny metal. He surveyed you again, trying to detect any little hint of fear but saw none. 

“Tell me about him.” You nodded at the blade. 

“He was a serial rapist.” Spencer spat. “He raped at least nine women but the cops couldn’t prove it. I would have been almost less annoyed had he killed them after, but he left them alive and they have to look in the mirror everyday and remember what he did to them.” 

“But he’s not going to be able to do it again.” You shrugged. “You made sure of that.”

“I did.” He nodded, almost proudly. “He begged me not to do it. He cried as I took my blade to his throat. But I couldn’t let him hurt anyone else.”

“One less evil in the world.” You agreed with him. 

A part of you wished you were just acting, playing along with Spencer so as to ensure your own freedom. But in a weird way, you understood why he’d done what he had. He’d taken things into his own hands, he’d rid the world of a sick and twisted individual. A part of you even admired him for doing so. 

“Do you trust me?” He suddenly asked you. 

“I do.” You nodded. “Completely.” 

Spencer leant closer to you, moving the knife until it was on your throat where his hand had been not so long ago. He pressed the tip of the blade against your skin, just enough for you to feel a little pressure but not so much that he would pierce the skin. And you didn’t even flinch because you weren’t lying, you did trust him. He could have gotten his own back on you for stabbing him but somehow you knew he wouldn’t. 

“I could so easily slice your throat right now.” He frowned a little. “But you really aren’t scared, are you?”

“No, not even a little bit. You have no reason not to trust me, Spencer. Let me help you.” You begged him as he sat back and moved the blade away from your neck.

He ran it down the centre of your torso gently, coming to a stop somewhere around your belly button. With his free hand he bunched your t-shirt up before piercing the fabric with the knife. He dragged it upwards, creating a hole in the shirt of a few inches. Then he suddenly dropped the blade on the floor and brought his now free hand up to your shirt and using the hole he’d created, ripped the offending piece of material in half in one swift move. 

You gasped at the sound of the fabric tearing and the cool air hitting your bare skin. He pulled it apart completely, tugging the two pieces of your t-shirt to your biceps. He hissed at your exposed chest, a trail of blood from your stomach and his bloody handprint across your breast.

“I marked you.” He smiled, staring at your chest wildly. 

“And I’d let you do it again.” You told him and he believed you. 

He chuckled as he got to his feet, making you whine which made him laugh more. Now he was standing, his erection was even more noticeable, straining at the front of his jeans. 

He kept his eyes on you as he dragged the zipper of his hoody down and pulled it apart, revealing the bloodstained white tee he wore underneath. 

You gasped loudly, but it wasn’t in fear. He watched you squeeze your thighs together as he rid himself of the hoody. 

“Who knew you’d been this tantalised by blood?” He cocked an eyebrow at you. “I’ll be right back, princess.”

“What? Where are you going?” You simpered, wriggling on the bed. 

“I need to get myself cleaned up. I can’t very well put these hands between those delicious legs covered in someone else’s blood. That would just be foolish.” 

A moan erupted from your lungs and you saw the sound made Spencer stumble on his feet. You tugged at your restraints, desperate to be able to touch him. 

“Let me help you?” You begged him. “Please, please let me help.” 

Spencer rolled his bottom lip between his teeth in contemplation. You didn’t think there was any way he would bow to your wishes, he was clearly enjoying this exertion of power. So you were surprised to say the least when he sighed and stepped closer to the bed. 

He leant over you, and for a moment you thought he might kiss you. His breath fanned over your face and he chuckled at the way in which it made you tremble. His hands came to rest on your biceps but didn’t stay there long before they were gliding up your forearms towards the tie knotted at your wrists. He toyed with the restraint, looking you dead in the eyes. 

“If you double cross me again, I will have to kill you, you understand that right? I don’t want to, it’s the last thing I ever want to do. But it’s a dog eat dog world and if I have to, I will.” 

“I understand.” You nodded and he smiled at you. You were only mildly self-conscious at the fact your chest was still exposed. 

You felt his deft fingers make quick work of the tie and soon it was loose enough for you to slip your hands out. Your arms were dead weight and fell heavily to the bed, how long you’d been tied up like that was anybody's guess. How you hadn’t woken up when he’d done it was a mystery too. 

Spencer left the other end of the makeshift restraint tied to the head board, just in case. He took hold of one of your hands, more claret transferring between the two of you, and helped you into a sitting position on the bed. 

Your hands tingled with pins and needles as you allowed Spencer to guide you to your feet. He kept hold of your hand and led you wordlessly towards the motel bathroom. He nudged the door open with his hip and tugged you inside. 

When he let go of your hand, you let the torn pieces of your shirt fall off of your arms and onto the floor. Spencer eyed you up and down, at the blood he’d marked your flesh with and smiled to himself. He took a step closer and took hold of your hands again, placing them at the hem of his t-shirt, his eyes telling you all you needed to know. 

Your hands were trembling a little as you slowly started peeling the fabric upwards, your knuckles brushing lightly against his ribcage. He hissed slightly at your featherlight touch and lifted his arms to enable you to pull the t-shirt over his head. 

You quickly dropped it to the floor and looked at him, his alabaster skin stained with the blood that had seeped through his shirt. The wound you’d inflicted upon him was still dressed but was now smeared with blood, you could only assume it wasn’t his own. At least you hoped it wasn’t. He smiled at you and stepped dangerously closer. 

“We match.” He teased, one hand snaking around you and gripping the back of your neck tightly. “How about my pants, princess?” 

As quickly as he was touching you, he removed his hand again and stepped back, motioning towards the button of his jeans he was still straining against. 

You swallowed and with your hands still shaking, you reached for the button. Your hand ghosted over his erection and he gasped deeply, bucking his hips a little. You fumbled with the button a little due to your nerves but once you popped it open, you helped him shimmy the jeans down his legs. 

He kicked them off, leaving him in the most sinfully tight pair of black boxers that barely contained his throbbing length. You subconsciously pressed your thighs together again but he must have noticed it because he smirked at you. 

While you were busy staring at him, wondering what he would feel like inside of you, he reached behind himself and you were a little startled when the shower started spitting out water. He chuckled as you jumped slightly at the sound and took a few steps away from you, towards the shower. He put his hands on his hips, fingers dipping beneath the waistband of his boxers. 

“I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours?” He winked at you and you were sure you almost collapsed. 

It only occurred to you then that this was not the Doctor Spencer Reid you’d come to know in your time at the BAU. The Doctor Reid you’d known had been shy, socially awkward and a little nerdy. This man in front of you sure looked like him, but the confidence he exuded was so new to you. But god if it wasn’t the sexiest thing in the whole world. 

You found yourself nodding dumbly, mirroring his stance and hooking your own fingers in the waistband of your shorts. You made eye contact and simultaneously you both started lowering your final items of clothing. 

For some reason you felt too embarrassed to look down, like it was an invasion of his privacy so you kept your eyes on his face. Out of politeness he did the same. 

It wasn’t as though you hadn’t already seen enough, the night in the Chapmanville Inn still fresh in your mind and the silhouette of Spencer’s body through the shower curtain carved into your memory. But this was different. 

He reached for your hand once more and tugged you closer, stepping back into the shower cubicle and pulling you inside with him. He moved under the shower head and took hold of your other hand, bringing them both up to his chest. You opened them and placed your palms flush on his blood stained skin. You watched as the water started to cleanse him, the blood beginning to be washed away. 

The blood mixed with the water and rolled down his body, pooling in the drain. You noticed your hands starting to shed the claret too. Spencer brought his still stained hands up to tentatively cup your breasts. Noticing the way you whimpered at his touch, he dared to start massaging them beneath deft hands, cleaning the blood from your skin. 

“It’ll be a shame to wash this away.” He smirked dangerously at you, continuing to clean you of the blood he’d bestowed upon you. 

You desperately wanted to move your hands down his body, feel every inch of him but you were too afraid. Clearly he was the one in control here and you didn’t want to push your luck in case this ended in a cloud of smoke. 

Suddenly he tore his hands away from you and you couldn’t help but whine at the lack of contact. Spencer chuckled to himself, reaching for the wall mounted shower gel dispenser and depositing some into one hand. 

He lathered the soap between his hands, ridding himself of the blood that had once stained him before using the remnants to return to your chest and clean you properly. 

Following his lead you reached past him for the dispenser, all the while he was rubbing your breasts and you thought you might explode. You rubbed the soap in your hands before returning the favour and starting to clean his chest. 

He closed his eyes as the water fell around him, lost in the way your hands felt against his skin. It had been a long time since he’d been touched in such a way and it was making him harder than imaginable. As much as he enjoyed this, it wasn’t enough. 

He started moving you backwards, still rubbing your breasts as he did so, until your back was against the glass shower partition. His hands wandered for the first time from your breasts down to your hips and you wanted to feel his body against you but he kept his distance. 

He clutched your hips desperately in his hands, fingers digging into your flesh and would probably leave yet more bruises. He edged his face closer to you, leaving space between your bodies and his lips ghosted over the shell of your ear. 

“Do you want this?” He breathed, for the first time sounding so unsure. 

“How can you even ask me that?” You replied, snaking your arms around his neck. 

“If we do this…” he pressed his lips against your ear, breathing into your skin. “There’s no going back for me. If we do this, you belong to me.” 

A whine left your lips and your body trembled at his words. It was the only thing you wanted. 

“Spencer,” you whispered back, running your nails along the base of his neck in his wet hair. “I already belong to you.” 

He hissed and suddenly his body jerked forward, his hips slamming against you and finally allowing you to feel his hard cock pressing against you. 

One hand moved from your hip to your jaw and held it firmly in his hand, drawing you in quickly and crushing your lips together. 

You felt all the air leave your lungs when he kissed you, as though you’d been leading up to this moment your whole life. You melted into him, throwing caution to the wind and letting this man own you entirely. 

He parted your lips and plunged his tongue inside your mouth, letting go of your jaw and taking purchase on your hip again. He grinded roughly against you, making you moan. You could tell he was big, and all you wanted was to feel him inside of you. 

He kissed you fiercely, holding you steady between his body and the partition. Your body felt simultaneously like it was on fire and like you were floating. He rendered you utterly dumb with one kiss. 

Suddenly he tore his lips away from you but before you could question it he was turning you around and pushing your front up against the glass. His body caged you in from behind, cock pressing against your ass cheek. 

His lips latched against your neck, sucking the wet skin and teasing it with his teeth. You felt his hand start to roam from your hip, across your stomach and steadily lower. 

He forced your legs apart with his strong hand before one nimble digit pressed against your clit. You gasped, rolling your ass back against his cock. He smirked into your neck, continuing to suck on your flesh. 

He started moving his finger, rubbing your bundle of nerves in the most perfect way you thought it should be illegal. Your legs trembled almost instantly and if he was to move you would surely fall over. 

You pressed one hand against the glass to help keep you up right while your other snaked behind you, between your bodies. You found his shaft and wrapped around the base of it, causing him to buck against you and bite down on your neck. 

You started to stroke him, panting heavily against the glass partition while he continued his work between your legs. He really knew what he was doing and you were positive you would reach your orgasm in no time. 

“Fuck,” he groaned against your skin as you let your hand moved up and down around him. “It’s been so long since someone touched me like that.”

His confession startled you a little but the pleasure he was inflicting on you was clouding your brain and you couldn’t dwell on it too much. His free hand moved to your chest and he pinched your nipple hard between his fingers. 

Your legs buckled and he steadied you with the weight of his body. He was moaning into your neck, rocking back and forth behind you. 

When he pulled back again, leaving you feeling empty and immediately touch starved, you whined as your hand fell to your side. You heard him chuckle before the shower shut off and you slowly turned to face him. 

You finally took all of him in, his wet hair hanging down almost to his shoulders, beads of water rolling over his pale skin. His dressing was barely hanging on, desperately trying to cling to his skin for dear life. His cock stood to attention against his belly and your knees wobbled at the sight. Clearly he noticed as he laughed again. 

“Don’t worry, princess. I’m not done with you yet.” He stepped out of the shower, curling his finger in a motion for you to follow him. Dumbly you did, scurrying after him back into the bedroom. 

He grabbed you by your wrist and threw you to the bed, the sheets immediately clinging to your wet body. Your legs hung over the side of the mattress but before you could move them onto the bed, Spencer was dropping to his knees on the floor next to you. 

He gripped your thighs roughly in his large hands and spread your legs, bowing his head between them. He kept eye contact with you as his tongue ran between your folds before settling on your clit. 

You howled at the sensation, hands flying to his hair and tangling in the locks. He hadn’t shaved since the two of you had fled DC and his rough stubble was scratchy but the friction it created was out of this world. 

He made the most delicious sounds as he ravenously ate you out. You were rocking your hips against his face, pulling his hair at the roots and moaning so loud the thin motel walls shook. When he suddenly plunged two fingers inside of you, your eyes rolled back in your head and you tugged his hair so hard it made him yelp. 

He fingered you roughly, pounding his fingers inside your fluttering pussy while flicking your bud expertly with his tongue. 

He was rutting against the side of the bed, trying to ease some tension in his throbbing cock. He wanted to give you all the pleasure in the world, his own way of thanking you for everything you’d done for him, but he was more than desperate to be inside of you. 

Your walls were clenching around his fingers and he knew you were close but he wanted to feel your orgasm around his shaft. He buried his face between your legs, needing more.

“Are you close, princess?” He whispered into your core. 

“Y-yes.” You stuttered. “S-so close.” 

“Good.” He suddenly withdrew his fingers and sat back on his haunches. 

You whined as your hands fell from his hair and looked at him in frustration. 

“W-why’d you stop?” You sounded pathetic and you knew it.

Spencer smirked at you, his mouth and chin slick with your arousal. He got to his feet, looming over you. 

“Because I want you to come on my cock, pretty girl.” With that he took you by the hips again and flipped you onto your front on the mattress. 

He manoeuvred your legs onto the bed and you felt the weight shift beneath you as he knelt behind you. He tugged you onto your hands and knees and before you could even comprehend what was happening, he roughly thrust inside of you. 

You yelped, his firm grip on your hips the only thing holding you up. He felt even bigger than he looked, filling you up in a way you’d never been before. He gasped loudly at the way in which he felt you stretch around him. 

He was soon thrusting in and out of you, his hips slamming against your ass each time. You gripped the bed sheets in your hands, head falling to your chest while he fucked you without remorse. 

He was moaning so deeply you felt it vibrate through you. His blunt fingernails dug into your hips and you swore you could already feel bruises forming. He was panting so heavily he sounded like he’d run a marathon but he didn’t slow down. 

He continued to pound into you, bringing you closer to your orgasm every second. By the time it washed over you, your whole body convulsed, pussy clenching around his cock, causing him to hold you even tighter. 

You moaned incoherently, possibly saying his name, you weren’t sure. Your head was a mess and your arms barely kept you upright anymore. 

“Fuck, that’s it princess. Fuck, feels so good when you come for me.” His thrusts started to grow lazy and you knew he was close too. 

Truthfully he’d been close since he’d first tasted you and he had no idea how he’d been able to last this long. But the feeling of you clenching around him as you came was too much and it finally pushed him over the edge. 

With one last thrust he let himself fall over the edge, spilling his load inside of you, holding onto your hips for dear life. He rocked back and forth as he rode out his orgasm but was soon pulling out. 

As soon as he let go of you, you crumbled to the bed, panting against the lumpy motel pillow. Spencer fell down next to you and gently wiped your hair back from your eyes. 

You blinked sleepily, a dreamy smile on your lips as you looked at him. You’d always thought he was stunning, but in this post-coital bliss you didn’t think anyone had ever been so beautiful. 

His puffy lips were parted as he tried to catch his breath, his intoxicating hazel eyes were hooded with sleep. His stubble still glistened a little from your arousal and his wet hair created a halo around his head. 

Am I in love with him? You thought as you stared at him. Or am I in love with the way he made me feel? 

Either way, you knew you shouldn’t have any feelings towards him. He was a murderer, pure and simple. Sure those men deserved it but it didn’t make what he’d done ok. But yet you still found yourself not just understanding it, but condoning it. And you knew as you laid there that you’d follow him to the ends of the earth, you’d be by his side until the bitter end. 

Could it be Stockholm Syndrome, or did you really have feelings for Spencer? Away from this situation, under normal circumstances, would this have still happened? 

All you knew for sure was that you were dancing with the devil and only he knew all the moves. But you were happy to let him lead. 

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Where am I? My hands are tied.

Turn on the lights, and I see you standing,

Over me, it's hard to breathe.

I can't believe that you'd do this to me.

Years of us building the trust up,

No love was ever enough.

I'm foolish to think we were friends,

It's funny how it ends.

You know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time we let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Now it's time to pay the price,

No playing nice when you live so selfish.

Have a drink and make a scene,

Embarrass me 'cause you're lost and hopeless.

Years of us building the trust up,

No love was ever enough.

I'm foolish to think we were friends,

It's funny how it ends.

And you know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You try to act as if you're saving me,

But you wouldn't cut the rope if it was hanging me.

I'm sick of people saying what you sow you reap,

'Cause I've been counting down the minutes of that, so to speak.

Think of all the hours and hours of grind,

That would it turned into sour findings.

As I wonder if our resigning is becoming the silver lining,

But I'm not a coward, I'm fighting.

'Cause if they're the meat, then I'm biting

Go ahead ignoring and smiling,

'Cause I'm climbing 'till I let you know.

When times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes, yeah.

You know, when times get tough you always give up,

I know your smoking gun's the tip of your tongue.

You take your aim to point the blame,

It's time you let it go, so save your lies.

Behind those eyes you're a devil in disguise.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

Life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

You best sleep with a blanket and a shovel,

'Cause life's too short to be dancing with the devil.

@andiebeaword @dreatine @dirtytissuebox @thebloomingeagle @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @bubblebuttwade @jay-2s-world

[sweetsreverie]

König x pink! Reader? And his teammates just think that she's either made up, or playing a cruel joke on him

ahh i'm so happy to have pink!reader making an appearance again!! i've been having some writer's block with mwII and i think i've finally come out of it.

pairing: könig x pink!reader wc: 589

König’s teammates were convinced you weren’t real. He’s told them about you, your sweet demeanor and your sunshine personality, but they just didn’t believe that a big oaf like him could pull a woman like that. He was working with a team in the UK for the time being, and the two of you were staying in London.

“All right big man, so you’re tellin’ me that a brute like you has a girlfriend that’s basically… Barbie?” Soap asks König, and after a moment of thinking, he nods.

“To put it plainly… I suppose you could say that. Pink is her favorite color, she always smells like vanilla, and she’s a great cook- sometimes she packs lunch for me-” König begins to ramble, but he quickly stops himself.

At that, Gaz lets out a quiet laugh. “But you didn’t bring any today, man. Did she forget?” He jabs at König lightly, and the taller man lets out a quiet huff.

“I forgot to grab it on my way in today.” He mutters. He was needed at the base for some mission briefings and paperwork, and you had reminded him countless times that you packed him something. He’s a big guy… he needs to eat, okay? You always make sure of that.

Just as Soap was about to open his mouth to tease König some more, the door opens and there you stand, clad in some fitted pink pants, a white sweatshirt with My Melody on it, and some pink and white sneakers. Under his hood, König smiles. Your hair was down, and you looked so effortlessly beautiful.

“Hey baby- You forgot this at home, you know- it’s a nightmare to get in here.” You tell him as you approach, holding out a bag that contained his lunch. You smile while he takes the bag from you, and under the hood, you can see the crinkle in the corners of his eyes.

“Thank you, mein engel- I’m sorry you had to come all this way.” he apologizes softly, before he reaches forward and affectionately places his large hand on your cheek briefly.

“I’m happy to do it, love.” You say with a gentle smile, and then your turn to the two men that your boyfriend had been speaking with.

“Oh- um, Y/N, this is Soap and Gaz.” König introduces you, and you greet them with a smile and a little wave.

“It’s nice to meet you guys. Take care of him while you’re out there, alright?” You tell the two men, and the one with the mohawk, Soap, nods and gives you a thumbs-up.

“Of course, lass. We’ll bring your big guy home in one piece. Don’t you worry.” He assures you, and you give König a gentle smile before you lean up and kiss his cheek over his hood.

“Alright. Well… I’ll see you soon. You guys take care.” You tell the three men with a smile before you exit the room.

Soap and Gaz both look at König with raised eyebrows, and Soap shakes his head.

“I cannae believe you have a woman that wears hello kitty, big guy. I for sure thought you were making that up.” Soap tells him with a laugh.

“Actually- uh, that was My Melody. Not Hello Kitty. She’s Hello Kitty's best friend.” König corrects him before he reaches into the bag of goodies and pulls out an energy drink.

Soap just blinks at that while Gaz snorts and laughs, because they can’t believe that König corrected Soap on the sanrio characters.

[andreas-river]

hey ohmygod you write for nikto!! can you do angst prompt #21 for him (maybe with a civilian reader)? i adore your work, can’t wait to see what you’re going to be writing next ♥️

Prompt: 21. "don't try to fix me, I'm not broken." with Nikto.

A/N: thanks for your words Anon, I really appreciate this! Hope you're going to like this one!

TW: angst, mentin of financial problems, hurt/comfort, Nikto is a human after all and no one can change my mind.

Want to make a request with other prompts?

════════════════════════════

This routine was new in so many ways—for both of you.

Nikto, the one you fell in love with, the one who would come back after the deployment, was everything you were looking for and more.

Nikto, the same man who was now digging holes in your soul with his eyes, the air around you tense. It became harder to breathe as you searched for the right words to say: you only remember saying something about a place that would help him feel better and relax, but it was like accidentally pushing a glass off the edge of a table, the crashing sound deafening your ears.

"It'll be like a vacation, but…" you try to explain again, only to get a sneer from him.

"A vacation?" he mocks your words, but you try your best to ignore the tone of his voice as you see his knuckles turn pale white. "I don't need it."

You are taken aback by his reaction, too speechless to reply. But he continues.

"I don't need it," he repeats again, "I don't want it. Don't try to fix me, I'm not broken. No, we're not."

You feel yourself breaking down at his words, too petrified to even take a step in his direction. Realizing that he was the one moving, leaving the room you were both in, you instinctively try to reach out and grab his arm, but he moves too quickly for your untrained eyes, grabbing your wrist and blocking any kind of physical contact from you.

His eyes widen for a second, but you don't even notice it through your watery eyes, only seeing his blurry form as he leaves the house, leaving you alone with your own tears.

Your legs give out as you drag yourself to the couch, salty tears running down your cheeks as you cry your heart out—was it so wrong to want to spend some time outside with a person you loved?

No, it wasn't, and you knew it. But also that Nikto was scattered with pieces of himself, sharp edges that could cut you every time you tried to get closer to him, felt like a deal with the devil—but devil was only everything that happened to him in his life.

You knew you couldn't bear it any longer, so you put on your shoes and left the house as well, the rain greeting you outside with the cold air. The car you both shared was still parked in front of you, so you covered yourself with the hood of your sweatshirt, hoping to find him soon—he couldn't be that far away, right?

You couldn't have been more wrong.

Your clothes are soaked now, as tears mix with the rain, and surrounded by the light of street lamps, you feel lost for the first time in so long. The last time was just before you met him, thanks to a mutual friend—Nikodim, or as they call him on duty, Rodion—and it all started from that rainy night, when you almost lost everything, and now history was repeating itself.

You cried harder as the downpour grew louder, crushing against the asphalt as you shivered in your clothes that clung uncomfortably to your skin. You started to walk back to your house, thinking about taking the car instead: at least you would be able to cover more distance.

You let the rain soak you, your steps heavy as you felt a weight on your shoulders, and you couldn't stop yourself from crying when you remembered the only time you cried in front of him—but they were tears of joy when you got your first check from the job you wanted so badly, when you finally were financially stable enough to pay the rent and buy food without worrying about not having enough money.

Once you are in the hallway, you sprint to the door with the intention of changing before jumping in the car, your teeth chattering from the cold air as you shiver and try to untie your shoelaces, muttering a string of curses when you realize they are too tangled.

A cry leaves your lips again, the desperation getting the better of you, powerless as you fall back to the floor, your eyes too unfocused to see clearly that someone is kneeling in front of you, until something soft touches your face, drying your skin. You finally manage to see him, your heart jumping in your throat as you recognize the familiar blue eyes, a little more bloodshot than usual—was he crying, too?

You reach for him, and even as water drops gather around you, he opens his arms, sobbing against his chest, feeling the dampness of his clothes—or maybe you were the one soaking him.

Too exhausted to do or say anything, you grab a handful of his sweatshirt as he picks you up from the floor, carries you to the bathroom, and removes your clothes. Neither of you say a word as you let him change you and dry your bare skin, still shivering uncontrollably from being out in the cold in the rain for so long.

It takes him a few minutes to dry you completely when your tears finally stop and you can clearly see the man in front of you. He has a frown in his eyes, the rest of his face is covered by a plain balaclava, the black paint he used to wear is now gone, revealing the natural color of his skin.

Even with one hand on his sweatshirt, he managed to put on at least a large size shirt and a clean pair of panties without breaking the physical contact, dragging you into the bedroom as he turned off all the lights, the storms still raging outside being the only thing you could hear.

Nikto seems to understand, because he lies on his side, holding your body as you drift off to sleep. It took him some time to fall asleep, his own actions and words weighing on him more than he could have expected. He had to walk away the moment he saw the fear in your eyes when he grabbed your wrist and when his own words broke your heart, seeing it clearly through your eyes.

He was aware that the storm would eventually pass, that tomorrow you would let him sit in front of you and talk to you, holding your heart in your hands as you healed his own without even realizing it. For now, he would accept your steady breathing as a lullaby, and eventually fall asleep holding you in his arms.

And tomorrow, he will ask you about the place you wanted to take him to, so he can see you smile.

[bettyfrommars]

Ring of Fire

a biker Steve au

Part 2: More Than Words

masterlist playlist

18+ONLY, MDNI, longing, friends to strangers to lovers, mature themes, mention of sex work and violence, reader has secrets, so does Steve, eventual smut, dirty deeds, biker!Hopper. It's the mid 90's and Steve is in his early 30's.

word count: 4.3k

Summary: Getting to know the town of Hawkeye, including Munson's Garage and Patsy's diner. Steve has dreams of another life he never lived. Reader has dreams of Steve. Hopper spends his spare time looking out for Lorelei.

A/N: There will be references to I'm on Fire in the first part of this chapter by way of dreams, but it is not a crucial plot point to the story, just in case you are not familiar with the other series. I keep wanting to bring more of the places/people in from IoF, but every time I do, this Steve morphs into the old one, and I love the idea of exploring him this way, without the other backstory.

Morning cracked open through your blinds, a bright sun void of warmth.  Rolling to face the wall on your floor mattress, you curled the lemon-yellow comforter up over your head, only to be bludgeoned by the onslaught of birds tweeting outside your window.  

A motorcycle grumbled by on the street below and you were officially awake.  

There was a kitchenette in your apartment, but you didn’t have a coffee maker or grounds yet.  The diner opened at 6am on weekends, and that is where you planned to go. You considered throwing a coat on and shuffling over in your pajamas, but ended up pulling on a change of wardrobe that did not match and a shirt that was inside out.  

7:30 was far too early for clever dressing.  

The sky matched the color of the pavement by the time you stepped out onto the sidewalk, now that the sun had been obscured by hulking clouds.  You pulled the hood of your sweatshirt up as a soft drizzle misted your skin, waiting for a big truck to pass before making your way across the street.

One block over and two blocks down was the red and white sign for Patsy’s Diner.  You spotted it just as the rain fell unyielding, your feet picking up the pace.

There were three cars in the slant street parking out front, including a big black Chevy truck with a square body style from the early 70’s.  

You didn’t see Steve until it was too late.  Not until you locked eyes through the diner window.

—-----

Steve picked Robin up every Saturday morning to have breakfast at Patsy’s, which had been their ritual for almost a decade.  There’d been a couple exceptions, including the months Robin was locked up for voluntarily taking the weed possession charge for one of her girlfriends, and a few when Steve had been out of town on a run with the Coffin Kings.  Other than that, even with the worst head-splitting hangover, they never missed it. 

Robin chucked her leather jacket into the booth first before she slid in wearing paint-splattered overalls over a baggy tee with the band Heart on the front.  Her warm golden hair fell to her shoulders, worn in a low ponytail, exposing the “lover” tattoo inked in cursive just under her ear.

Their booth was right at the front corner of the L-shaped diner, next to the window.  Steve had even carved their initials under the table at one point with his old utility knife.  The booths were burnt sienna vinyl that were so worn at the seat that they were ripped in places, exposing the gauzy innards.  The waitress Jeanette collected steaming plates from the kitchen hatch to carry to another table while Sharon, her co-worker, brought over a pot of coffee and two stout, brown mugs.

Steve rolled a toothpick around in his mouth from side to side as he held open the laminated menu to look it over, even though he could read the whole thing with his eyes closed.  

“Rough night?” Robin asked while she concentrated on stirring three spoons of sugar and a hearty dollop of cream into her coffee.

Steve didn’t look up from the menu.  “How could you tell?”

Between the raw strawberry on his knuckles and the dark purple half-moons under his eyes, he knew the answer.

“Your hair looks like it’s trying to evacuate your scalp.” 

She waited for him to start combing the mess back with his fingers to give a soft chuckle.  

Steve let the menu go flat on the table and palmed the rim of his black coffee to pull it closer. “I had another one of those dreams last night.”

His best friend’s eyes snapped up, but then Jeanette was there to take their order and the conversation had to pause while Steve got his standard hotcakes with bacon, and Robin her omelet with hash browns and sourdough toast.  They exchanged a few pleasantries, since Jeanette had worked there as long as the two of them had been alive, and then Robin settled back in her seat with a weary huff.

Steve felt like he had to remind himself to blink, his eyes were so dry.  He looked at his hands as he spoke. “I had a kid, a little boy.”  

Robin leaned forward to rest her forearms on the table.  “Was I his mother in this one? These dreams of  yours freak me out.  I can’t imagine being someone’s mother, like, not ever.”

“You were a really good one though,” a hesitant smile quivered on his lips.  “You helped me raise him even though he wasn’t biologically yours.  But in the dream last night I—”

Every time he woke up from those particular dreams, he mourned the loss of a child he never had. 

He cut off what he was about to say, the memory of the love he felt in his dream hitting him like a wave.  “Last night I was about to get married to some woman, and we had a baby on the way.  My baby.”

Robin was about to crack a joke, but then thought better of it.  “I know what it feels like.  To have the kind of dreams you don’t want to wake up from.  Who in the hell would want to wake up to our lives.”

“Wayne is healthy though,” Steve nodded to himself, trying to find the positives.  “In these dreams he’s…sick or something, and I’m always worried he's not going to live much longer.”

“The apocalypse couldn’t kill Wayne,” she smiled.  “Old man will outlive all of us.”

The food came, and the topic of conversation changed, until Robin shoved a bite into her cheek.  “What was his name, do you remember? Your son?”

“His name was Oliver,” Steve held a strip of bacon out, not ready to take a bite yet.

Robin bobbed her head a few times. “That’s a good name,” and then, “you want to talk about what happened last night?”

“Same old shit,” he huffed, slapping a few crumbs off his black tee while he chewed.  “Hop and I were called out to the junkyard and—”

There you were again, like another dream he was bound to wake up from.

Robin was concentrating on shoveling a particularly big bite into her mouth, so she didn’t know why he’d gone so quiet, until she followed his line of sight.  

You stepped inside, wiping the rain off your face, but you kept your hood on while you waited for a waitress to greet you.  Inside the diner was cozy, wall to wall carpeted a teddy bear brown, and smelled of cooked meats, coffee, and syrup.  It made your mouth water, and you wondered if you should splurge on something.

Jeanette tried offering to seat you at the bar, but you were adamant that you’d take a brew and some sugars to go.  Also a toasted bagel, you added that in at the last second.

“You want egg on that, honey?” Jeanette asked, nestling her pen in the curly silver hair above her ear.

Peeking out from the side of your hood, you noticed Steve lifting up to get a better look at you from his window booth.  “No, plain is fine, thank you.”

“Who is that?” Robin asked, wiping her mouth as she turned around in her seat to get a look at you.  

“No one.  Someone I knew in middle school,” Steve mumbled, hacking into his stack of pancakes with the side of his fork. “She’s the new renter above Donna’s place.”

“Huh,” Robin turned her attention back to her plate.  “Why do you look so flustered?” 

You were standing at the door, watching the rain come down in sheets, when you felt a warm body sink in behind you.

“You need a ride back?” It was Steve with his hands in the pockets of his jeans.  “It looks pretty…wet out there.”

When you turned to face him, you brushed some forgotten crumbs off of his chest with your hand.  It was a very familiar gesture, one that neither of you thought too much about.  

It was on your tongue to decline, but it was the integrity of your bagel that concerned you. Jeanette brought you the big to-go cup and warm bread in a paper bag.

“Just as long as you aren’t here on your bike.”

—------

Steve ran over to tell his companion to sit tight while he drove you the 3 blocks home.  His friend waved at you from her seat, and you gave a tentative wave back.  More like just holding your hand up in the air actually, something of a Spok greeting. 

“I don’t want to interrupt you—”

“She’s fine,” Steve assured, lifting his jacket up to hold over your head as the two of you pushed through the door and into the frey. “This will only take a minute.”

Hunkering down, you jerked the heavy metal door of his ‘78 Chevy pickup open, and then spread yourself long across the bench seat to reach over and pop the lock on his door.

Rain dripping down his face, Steve watched your two fingers pluck the lock up, and it was a small gesture to most, but a tender one for him. Not even his ex-girlfriend had afforded him such consideration, not once.

You weren’t his girlfriend though, you were barely a friend.  An acquaintance he’d fantasized about in his formative years.

Once you were both under shelter in the dry cab, you glanced up through the windshield and saw Robin keeping an eye on the two of  you from her place at the window.  Even through the visual distortion from the rain, you could make out a soft smile lingering, perking up her cheeks.  

The interior smelled like him: old leather, cigarettes, and the yellow, vanilla, tree-shaped freshener hanging from the volume knob on his radio.  

“Sorry if it stinks in here,” he reached down to swat the ashtray closed that was full of smoked filters. “I need to clean that out.”

“Are you familiar with the dumpsters in the alley behind Donna’s place?”

He nodded yes as he put the key in the ignition.  

“Well, they are right under my bedroom window, and I have no air conditioning.  I’m looking forward to how my place will smell in the dead of summer.”

The truck grumbled to life and he anchored his arm around the seat to turn and see where he was going as he backed up.  “You just need one of those air conditioning units that fits in the window.  I know a guy, I’ll get you one.”

You hadn’t been fishing for help but, “that’s really nice of you, thanks.” His offer made you feel small for a second.

Less than a minute later, you were at your place. He pulled in as close as he could to the awning without crashing into the cement structure.  

Not many words were exchanged as you got out, just a few mumbles of “thank you” and “good to see you”, but then you were out and slamming his heavy door shut to hurry inside.  He waited out there for a few beats, wishing he would’ve said more before coasting back to the diner. 

—---

Later that day, as the sun faded to a collage of pink orange behind the low hills, Hopper sat on his Harley in the parking lot of the Rosebud Motel.  

The amount of time spent waiting there, watching the door to room 11 might have sounded absurd to some, but he knew that no one could look after her like he could.

He’d read about a trucker in the news who was paying women for sex and then hurting them.  A few of the girls were missing, and foul play was suspected, but no one cared about the victims enough to investigate much.  Most of Lorelei’s clientele were locals; lonely hired hands and married men, but there were always transient travelers looking for some company when they passed through town.  Those were the ones he was concerned about.

The door to her room opened just as he lit a fresh cigarette.  The guy that stepped out was pushing 70, adjusting his suspenders over his shoulders.  She stayed in the doorway, covered in one of her satin robes, and kissed him on the cheek.  Her appointments weren’t always about sex.  Some were, for sure, and those he preferred not to think about, but a lot were touched starved hermits who craved conversation and a shoulder rub from a beautiful woman.  A few liked to worship her feet.  One guy preferred to feed her ice cream while they watched Cheers reruns on the bed together.  Bottom line, nothing she shared surprised him any more.  

The local customers knew that Hopper was her watchdog, and they’d be too afraid to cross a line with her, even if they wanted to.  

Hopper had not yet been intimate with Lorelei though; not even a kiss.  

For years, he’d managed to keep it platonic, ever since she hired him to be her driver and bodyguard for a date with a new customer she wasn’t yet comfortable with. He’d known that same night that he wanted to be with her, but he also knew he wasn’t special, that she saw him as a bit of a necessary evil to keep the bad man away.  

But, Hopper was a bad man who had done many bad things.  She deserved better.

He would protect her with his life at the drop of a hat.  

Ned, the guy in the suspenders, shuffled to his Chrysler LeBaron, and then Lorelei turned to smile at Hopper.  

He fixed his hair, slicking it back on each side, squinting as he plucked the last of his smoke from between his lips, tossing it to the pavement before adjusting his Coffin Kings cut to wave back.  

—----

The rain was off and on all day, until the night shadows snuffed it out, allowing only a damp mist to remain. Earlier, you’d found a coffee maker at the thrift store, and when you still couldn’t sleep at midnight, you decided to caffeinate yourself to see if it counteracted your awakeness and made you sleepy.  Not much logic to it, but still, there it was. 

Deciding to go out for a walk, you zipped your jacket up and headed out, down along the dumpster alley, and out into the street that led to the park.  The playground equipment sat so ominously motionless, the empty expanse felt eerie for a moment as you made your way over to the swings, hands shoved deep into your pockets.  

You grabbed onto the chain, sitting in the teal plastic seat.  Beneath you, the ground was worn into a large divot where years of dragging feet had been.  You remember sitting on the same swig when you were a little kid and your feet couldn’t reach the dirt.

“Do you want to be alone?” His voice came out of nowhere, making your head turn so fast you almost kinked your neck.

You saw the plume of cigarette smoke before you saw him.  He was cloaked in darkness, but there was something about his shape, the way he sauntered forward.

“Steve?”

“Miss me?”

You took a deep breath, attempting to slow your heart rate. “What are you doing out here?”

“I was just wondering the same thing about you,” he came fully into view then, illuminated by the full moon through the tree boughs.  “This is my park.”

“Oh,” you looked around with mock surprise.  “You own this whole park? You did well for yourself.”

With a flick of ash from his cig, he sank down into the swing next to you, chains clinking against the aluminum bracing as he did so.  His hair curled at the base of his neck, the thick top part flopping to one side as he raked a hand through it.  He was wearing that same type of v-neck shirt under his leather jacket to give a peak of his chest hair and tattoos, as if he knew you’d be looking.  As if he’d known he’d run into you.

He smirked. “When Eddie and I were kids, we lived in that trailer park a few blocks that way,” he nodded over his shoulder. “We spent a lot of time here.  Any excuse to get out of the house.”

He extended the pack of cigarettes out to offer you one, but you declined that time.  “What were you out here doing tonight though?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” he grumbled a laugh. “Decided to go for a ride. You?”

“Same, with the not being able to sleep thing.  In the city there is more to do but not many options here.”

“Tell me about it,” he scoffed.  

You shared a silence then, one that did not feel empty or awkward, but then he looked up at the sky that was clear and bright with stars.

“Do you wanna get out of here? Go for a ride?”

It took you a full minute to answer, but it was not a hesitance based on uncertainty.  It was hesitance based on wondering if Steve knew what he was getting himself into with someone like you.

“Where are we going? New Mexico?”

He shrugged, making eye contact again.  “We could. If that’s what you want.”

You ran your tongue along the ridge of your teeth, waiting for him to come over and take your hand to help you out of the seat.  He pulled  you up so fast, your chests crashed together, your mouths inches apart.  

“I want to show you something,” he said, brushing his lips against yours.  

—-

When you blinked awake the next morning, you realized that meeting Steve on the playground had been a dream.  You let the weight of its loss sink in as you rubbed sleep from your eyes, fumbling for the key around your neck as if you might’ve misplaced it in another dimension.  

On the other side of town, Steve revved his bike to life in the garage of the picket fence house he’d been renting from Eddie Munson. Eddie’s ex Melanie left him high and dry with a mortgage on his hands, and he was quick to offer it to his friend when he had nowhere to go.  Steve took care of the small lawn, and did any repairs with money from his own pocket.  He didn’t really care about the quaint seaside bungalow look of it—the garage was all that mattered to him.  He could keep his bike in there and fix up project cars when he had the means.  

He was running late, so he took the shortcut through the back alleyways of town.  

Or maybe he knew he’d be on time, he just wanted to cruise by your apartment and see if he could get a glimpse of you. 

Coffee was brewing in the office at Munson’s Garage when he got there and from behind the desk, Robin looked surprised.  

“You’re almost a half hour early,” she dropped her attention to the papers she was organizing.  “Did you get any sleep at all?”

“I slept great actually,” he lied, pulling a styrofoam cup off the stack to fill it with steaming brew.  “At least five hours.”

“No shit,” she returned under her breath.  “If you’re ready to clock in, Eddie has that Plymouth up on the lift for you to take a look at.  The owner wants to pick it up this afternoon.”

She stood to hand Steve a sheet of paper as she spoke.  “A few vehicles are coming in to get serviced at 9.  Eddie has to pick up a tow in Everett, so it’s just you and Hopper today.”

Through the window over Robin’s head, Steve could see the inside of the garage and Hopper leaning against a tall red tool caddy to have a smoke.  He bucked his chin at Steve when he caught his eye. 

A few hours into the daily grind, Steve was murmuring the lyrics to the song More Than Words by Extreme while he was on the creeper under a car, thankful for Hopper’s presence since he really didn’t give a shit about the music.  Eddie though? His tastes were very particular, and they usually had to flip a coin.  When Steve won the toss, Eddie grumbled around the bay all day, rolling his eyes at Steve’s enthusiasm for Prince’s entire discography.  

Hopper kicked Steve’s foot to get his attention.

“What’s up man?” Steve grunted, continuing to work.  

“Protection run tonight with Bones and a few of the others. Are  you coming?” Hopper had on cement gray coveralls and pulled a red rag from his back pocket to wipe carburetor fluid off his hands.  

Steve stopped what he was doing and used his legs to inch out from under the Pontiac Firebird.  He’d scratched his neck several times and wiped his eye, so there were dark smudges in those spots.  A protection run was when members of the Coffin Kings went along to escort precious, most likely illegal, cargo across state lines.  

Steve didn’t answer, so Hopper continued.  “Sounds like we’ll each be getting a couple grand a head.”

A couple grand? For a few hours of work when he wouldn’t be sleeping anyway? Oh yeah, Steve was going on the protection run, no matter the risks.  

“Steve?” The voice belonged to someone else that time. 

Someone who sounded a lot like you. 

Steve sat up on the creeper and fiddled with the wrench in his hand, sure that it was only Robin and he was just hearing things.  

But, there you were, stepping into the garage from the parking lot with what appeared to be a Pyrex casserole dish in your hands.

“Um, hi, you—um,” Steve got to his feet after a clumsy shuffle with the creeper, wiping his hands off as well as he could on his jeans.  

“I brought you some lunch,” flustered, you realized it was past noon and surely he’d had lunch already.  “Or dinner, whichever. As a thank you for driving me home yesterday.”

Hopper looked from Steve to you and then back to you again before excusing himself to the other side of the garage.  

Robin hurried to spy on the conversation from the air conditioned privacy in the office.

“For me?” He wasn’t trying to be obtuse, he was genuinely confused. 

“Well,” you steadied the dish in your grasp, glancing around. “Or whoever else might want some.  It’s lasagna.  My mom’s recipe.  Donna let me use her oven, I made some for myself earlier and just thought you might…um…do you like lasagna?”

“Sure,” he reached out to take it from you. “Who doesn’t like lasagna?”

The words were there, but you couldn’t read the expression on his face.  The scowl lines in his forehead and the down-turned side of his mouth told you that he was repulsed by all of it: the lasagna, you, everything.  

Steve was speechless.  Not for lack of words, but more an abundance of them. The last time anyone had cared to make something for him was his grandmother before she passed.  Robin had made him dinner a handful of times, but that was different.  Still, all he could do was stare at the tin foil cover and wet his lips.

Your brain raced. “If it’s too much, I can take it back?”

“No,” Steve moved the dish away as if to protect it from your reaching hands. “I’ll make sure to clean the dish when I’m done and get it back to you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you shuffled back, turning on your heel to beeline for your car as fast as you could.  

We were going to run away to New Mexico together, remember?

A few other Coffin Kings had just pulled into the parking lot, and with narrowed eyes, Steve noticed that they were all watching you walk away.

Fuckers.

He struggled to find a place to put the blue dish down, and finally settled on the concrete, so he could head off after you at a jog. 

“Hey,” he caught your arm, moving with purpose to block their leering view of you. “Is that your car? Let me walk you over there,” pointing to the yellow Dodge Omni parked under the awning.

You moved a few steps, so did he, and then you eyed him suspiciously.  “What’s going on?”

One of the Kings whistled their approval of you, and Steve gnashed his teeth.  

“Nothings going on, I just wanted to make sure you know how grateful I am.  For coming over here.  With the food. For bringing me food.”

You tried to see where the whistle had come from, but Steve darted to the side to block your view.

God, he was blowing it.  What a tool.

You wanted to tell him about the dream you had, but right then didn’t feel like a good time. 

“I have to get back to work,” you looked at your hands, and then lifted them to the heartbeat in his tan throat, and eventually up to his full lips. “See you later?”

He reached out as if he might hug you, but then put his arms down again, slapping them to his sides.  “Hey, are you busy tomorrow night?”

“I work during the day, but otherwise I’m never busy,” you swallowed, avoiding his gaze.

“Do you want to get out of here? Go for a ride?”

But then, your eyes snapped up at the familiarity of the questioning.

“There’s something I want to show you,” he added.

----

Thank you so much to my readers, I love you and love to hear what you think.