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psychedelic-ink · 9 months

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'𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐰.

pairing: contractor!joel miller x f!reader

genre: no outbreak au, modern au, explicit smut, minors dni

word count: 3k

summary: joel is used to asshole clients, and when one of them calls him an old man and basically demands him to finish his girlfriend's kitchen in time, he expects you to be the same. But you're the opposite. when he learns how you've been treated, he comes up with a plan to get back at your boyfriend.

warnings: hints of reader being in a toxic relationship, age gap, daddy kink, piv, dirty talk , revenge sex and filming it, infidelity (reader cheating on her bf), praise kink

a/n: This was completely spontaneous, normally I was going to finish one of the haunted hoedown entries but I saw a ✨ s p i c y ✨ video and instantly got up to write this because that video was something else I tell you. Sucks that they don't credit those things on twitter so I can find more of the guy he was also older hence the age gap fgbgfbf

thank you to @johnwatsn for beta'ing this (and sorry for all the typos lmaodfbfg) and thank you to @pedrorascal for the stunning gif 💜

“I’m not paying extra if you do overtime, old man. You said a week and you’ll finish in a week. I don’t care if your knees hurt or you have a heart attack in the middle of hammering a nail—you finish my girlfriend’s kitchen in time. Got it?”

Joel had a lot of unpleasant customers. John was just one of many but his comment had stuck with him. And it wasn’t the rude comments or the tone that basically told Joel that John thought of him as dog shit; no, it was none of that. It was the old man that had bugged him. The hissed comment of his age slithering under his skin and agitating his body.

Joel knew that it only bothered him because it was true. He was an old man. His daughter in her last year of college, doing her absolute best and growing while he was getting old. His skin creasing at the eyes every time he laughed and his hair more salt than pepper.

The thoughts continuing to swirl in his head, with a sigh, he knocks on the door of John’s girlfriend, expecting a woman as equally as unpleasant and demanding.

You’re far from what he expected. Your smile is bright, your eyes kind and lips looking soft and shiny. Joel has trouble gathering himself when you extend a hand, not a care in the world. His eyes drop to where your sweetheart neckline pushes your breasts together, slightly spilling over the fabric. His mouth goes dry, cock twitching under the denim.

Guess some parts of him didn’t get the memo that he was an old man now.

“Joel, right?” you ask, voice unsure and timid. Your eyes gradually take in the height of him, moving to explore the broadness of his shoulders and stopping at his eyes. “John mentioned you.”

Joel’s stomach suddenly turns sour, it’s enough for him to snap out of the sudden lustful gaze he found himself in. He grabs your hand, giving it a firm squeeze. “That’s right. Joel Miller at your service, ma’am.”

He might be imagining it, but he swears your breath hitches just a little when he takes your hand.

“How chivalrous,” you smile and move to the side. “Come on in, Mr. Miller.”

“Joel is just fine,” he grunts, reminded of the old-age comment. How young were you, he wonders. Late twenties, early thirties? He has no idea. He’s also not sure if he wants to know.

You close the door behind him and nod, “Alright then Joel,” you step in front of him, walking towards what he assumes is the kitchen. Joel dutifully follows. “I’m sure John told you about what needs to be done, so hopefully you don’t have any questions.”

He raises an eyebrow at that, confusion swirling in his expression. You don’t turn to look at him, entering the kitchen, you continue, “I had something else in mind originally but he told me to trust him so... I guess that’s what I’m doing now.”

“That don’t sound right,” Joel mumbles. He gives the area a once over, he sees a lot of pink, clean, and polished furniture. The windows are large, allowing the sun to bathe everything within. He vaguely remembers John mentioning a dark, minimalist look but he wasn’t really listening at the time. “Isn’t this your kitchen?”

Your shoulders raise at his question and you finally turn to face him, kind eyes now tainted with a hint of sadness, “It’s going to be our kitchen soon. He probably thinks it’s too girly.”

“That’s no reason to leave you out of the design process,” Joel answers, taking a step closer. You smile helplessly with a shrug, your eyes dropping to his lips before averting them. His pulse races, something wicked forming in his head. He stops an inch away from you, a mere breeze would’ve been enough for your bodies to touch but he keeps still and so do you. You’re flustered, he can tell. “You wanna tell me what you had in mind?”

Your eyes briefly go wide, something like shame crossing your face but the expression is quickly replaced by understanding, “Oh the design,” you murmur, voice barely a whisper. “I honestly would’ve loved some more counter room since I love to bake.”

“Well, you’re in luck darlin’ because I don’t remember much of the details your boyfriend gave me,” he smiles when your brows furrow with confusion. “Meanin’ you have to lead me with the design.”

He swears your smile is the brightest damn thing he’s seen in a long while.

It’s the last day of the constructions in your kitchen but you’re not thinking of the new kitchen counter or the new cupboard, all you’re thinking of is Joel’s proposition, and how you were soaked with just the mere thought of it.

You and Joel had grown close during the time he fixed up your kitchen. Surprisingly, you actually went with the design you initially wanted and not the one John had in mind. You knew it would lead to a fight and some part of you was glad—John was meant to be perfect but it was only on paper. He was a dream boat when in public and amongst friends, but alone? Not a chance. He belittled you, hated almost all your hobbies and always made unnecessary comments on what you looked like.

Despite yourself, you had blabbed all of that to Joel. He made you feel safe, and the fact that he was very pleasant to look at helped. He didn’t say much but you could tell that he was livid, which secretly made you pleased. It was good to see that how John treated you wasn’t actually the norm.

You loved watching him work. The way sweat would slide all the way down to his neck and how his muscles would tense, straining the fabric of his shirt.

He told you about how John had treated him, confessed he thought you would be the same. Your insides had boiled with anger. You apologized profusely and he just shook it off, saying it wasn’t your fault.

Then the kiss had happened.

It had happened on a particularly bad day. You were upset, filled with negative emotions to the brim and all you wanted was unconditional comfort. You kissed him, he didn’t stop you until your hand reached for his belt.

“I wanna show that asshole how amazin’ you are,” he had said. “Will you let me?”

At the time you hadn’t known what he meant by that.

But now you do.

“Look into the camera, sweetheart,” he murmurs, mouth pressed against your ear. You shudder, your bare body feeling good against his, like you were made for him. Your pussy throbs and drools all over his cock that slides agonizingly slow between your folds. You try to do as he says but it’s just too hard when your eyes are constantly on the brink of rolling back into your skull. He drags his lips down your neck as his large hands knead your breasts, your nipples achingly hard. “Don’t make me say it again, honey. Don’t make me be mean when you’re such a good girl.”

“Oh, fuck—” your body shudders, lashes fluttering as you stare right into the camera with a lost expression. You see yourself, Joel right behind you. You don’t know how but he looks even taller while his body splays over yours, bending you over. He presses his palm over your forehead, forcing the arch of your back. Your inner thighs are soaked, his cock moving between your legs. You see the flash of the glistening head every time he rocks himself forward.

He looks into the camera and your entire body clenches with want, “Look at that,” he hums, laving your neck in open-mouthed wet kisses. “Your girlfriend already going stupid with my cock. Not so bad for an old man huh?”

Joel’s lips stretch menacingly, eyes shining with amusement. Letting go of your forehead, he pushes both your tits closer to the camera, thumbs moving over the pebbled flesh. You moan loudly and your legs quiver.

“Sweet thing over here tells me you don’t let her ride you—I thought you were a dumbass before but now I think you’re a downright moron. Fuckin’ hell, who wouldn’t want such an eager thing jumpin’ up and down his cock.”

You whimper, eyes going teary. Your heart races wildly in your chest. “J—Joel, please. . .”

“Hear that, John,” he growls, the tremble of each word reverberating into your skin. “She’s beggin’ for my cock. Ain’t that right, darlin’?”

You nod but it’s not enough for him, not enough for Joel. “Don’t be shy now, tell him. He ever got you this wet?”

“N-No,” you breathe out and maniacally shake your head. “N-Never.”

“Poor thing,” he clicks his tongue. “Poor poor thing. Don’t worry, daddy’s got you now. Doesn’t he?”

“Yes,” you slur, pushing back your hips. “Fuck me, fuck me—Fuck me, daddy, please.”

“Say it again,” his teeth sink into your skin. “One more and I’ll fuck you.”

“Daddy,” you moan, eyes rolling back. “Daddy, need you, need your cock. Fuck me, please.”

He hums in satisfaction, “Well, since you asked so darn nicely,” Joel kisses your temple and his lips move over your skin as he speaks to the camera, “Looks like she’s my girl now, my good girl.”

When he buries himself into you, inch by inch, your jaw goes slack and your nipples go tight. You forget about the camera, about John who’ll see this. You only think of him. He stretches you to your very limit, his cock thick and hard. It takes you everything not to move your hips. You want Joel to tell you what to do. You want him to fuck you so good that your mind will go blank as you start bouncing on his cock. His one hand grips your waist firmly as the other remains underneath your breast, the sensitive flesh spilling over his hand while holding you.

“How does it feel?” he murmurs into your ear, his cruel teasing from earlier gone.

“Good,” you whimper, squeezing him tight. “So fucking good, the biggest I’ve ever had.”

“Fuck, darlin’,” he kisses the skin behind your ear. “Such a filthy mouth on such an innocent lookin’ girl. You were wasted on that jackass.”

He knocks the air from your lungs before you can answer. The drag of his cock like lightning searing your skin. He fucks you hard, almost angrily, but you know it’s not directed at you. Never at you. The smack of his balls against your ass fills the bedroom, and you’re positive the phone is recording every wet, filthy sound. It doesn’t take much for Joel to reduce you into a withering mess, every word forgotten, his hips relentless as he fucks deeper and deeper into you.

Then suddenly you’re tilting back, his arm an anchor around your stomach as you find yourself between his thighs sitting on his lap. Your eyes move to the screen, you look perfect between his legs, the muscles tensing and flexing as he grinds his hips. Your skin pleasantly burns.

“Come on, sweetheart, show him what he’s been missin’ out on.”

Joel leans back, palm planted firmly on your mattress with pretty pink flowers that John hates.

Your body takes control, your brain swimming in a fog of lust and pleasure. You grip his thick thighs, bracing yourself, you begin to move up and down his cock. He fills you beautifully. His gaze is fixed on the tiny camera, staring directly into it as you try your best to please him. Arousal coils tight in your stomach. Your breasts sway with your every move, your body coating him in shiny slick.

“A throne for a princess,” he groans, eyes moving from the camera to your reflection on the screen. Fire burns down your spine. His gaze and presence alone choking the air from your lungs. You twist yourself to get a better look at him, catching his gaze momentarily, you moan wantonly at the sight. Him only sitting, relaxed while you’re breaking down sends jolts of electricity up and down your spine. You sit wholly, grinding down while keeping his cock buried deep inside, searching for that devastating spot inside you.

The world around you becomes a bright white when you do.

Your ears start ringing, and you begin to shake, legs clamp together as you shudder around the length of him. A choked sound between laughter and bewilderment tears from your throat. Your body moves of its own accord now, helplessly bouncing on his cock, the bulbous head grazing against a certain spot that just makes you want more and more and more—

“Yes yes yes yes,” you chant. Joel’s head disappears from view everytime you move up. You hear his moans, they become louder and louder, his southern drawl becoming prominent the more fucked out he gets.

His sounds only spur you on, making you ride him harder, sweat beading at your tailbone. Your pussy swallows him hungrily, every inch of him without protest. While you’re absolutely lost on his cock, you notice him tilting his head so he’s in view again. You hold your breath. His mouth parts, the tip of his tongue touching the corner of his lips, he gives the camera a taunting look. Joel’s expression turns into a half smile and he wraps his arms around you. One going over right above your breasts and the other around your stomach. His hand cups the side of your neck. He drags his mouth down and up your cheek.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he rasps, kissing you. You look to the camera, hips slowing but not stopping. “Yes, pretty girl, just like that,” another kiss. “Look at that pretty girl getting fucked.”

Joel squeezes your breast as his arm comes down, both of them now tight around your stomach. You feel him pulsing deep inside you. His voice is thick with arousal. “Look how beautiful you are on my dick. Don’t you agree, sweetheart?”

You nod and grind against him, loving how deep he feels. He kisses your neck, tongue tracing shapes into your skin as both his hands come up to your tits and squeezes them, the plump flesh spilling from between his knuckles. His lips move down your shoulder and back up your neck, following the same path over and over again, decorating it with slow kisses.

Joel gives the camera one last look before disappearing behind you, fingers sprawled over your stomach and down between your legs. You feel the rough hairs between your shoulder blades first, then the softness of his lips follows through. Your eyes flutter closed and your head falls back, his mouth is so goddamn soft, the skin tingling and burning at the same time.

His hips snap up, and with the sudden movement, a fresh wave of wetness coats his cock. You lean forward, face closer to the camera, while he lays back, watching hungirly at the way your ass moves.

“Yeah, just like that,” he groans, smacking both your asscheeks simultaneously.

Then before you know it he’s moving, pressing you fully over the table in front of you, the phone shaking as he begins to hammer into you. You can’t even see what you look like anymore, your head dropping, you cry out his name. If it wasn’t for his hands on your hips, you would’ve collapsed to the ground.

“That’s it, come on my cock,” he nips at your shoulders. “Fuck, you’re so fucking wet—can you hear that? Can you hear how fuckin’ soaked your girlfriend is on an old man’s cock?”

It takes you a second to realize he’s not talking to you, but the camera. You flutter around him, squeezing him tight enough that he moans, hips slowing. “Daddy,” you gasp. And with that, you finally let go, cunt gushing around him, coating him with slick. Joel peppers your back with soft, quick kisses, whispering praise between every kiss.

“That’s it, sweetheart, bet you never came that hard before. Good girl—my good fuckin’ girl, wettin’ my cock so well.”

You tighten and gush around him a second time, you swear by how hard you’re clenching your insides most likely have taken the shape of him.

“Where do you want me?” he whispers into your skin. Words coming muffled and hoarse, dripping slow like molasses. You push back against him, looking into the camera with a small smile.

“Inside me, daddy, please.”

“Oh shit—” he picks up the pace, the thrust of his hips sloppy and needy. “Shit shit shit—so fuckin’ perfect, so good for allowin’ this old man to wreck her good—So good for tellin’ me to fill her up—fuck—”

You’re blindsided by how honest he suddenly is, the rasp of his voice going straight between your legs. His hips stutter and Joel comes with a loud, thick moan, spilling into you. You moan right alongside him. He continues to rock into you with shallow thrusts, laying kisses on every patch of skin his lips can reach.

While you’re lost in complete bliss, he reaches around you and grabs the phone, stopping the recording before collapsing back to the bed, pulling you along with him.

“You feel so good,” he says, cock softening inside. You feel his come trickling down from between your thighs and shiver.

“You feel good too,” you say, wrapping your arms around him and covering his lips with your own. “I don’t think I’ve ever come that hard.”

“Guess this old man still has some tricks up his sleeve,” he chuckles weakly and you press another kiss, this time on his cheek. “We don’t have to by the way.”

“Don’t have to what?”

“Send the video.”

You stare at the phone for a second, brows furrowed as you think. Then with a quick shrug, you turn back to him. “Nah, let him see it. I could’ve forgiven how he treated me but not you.”

He clicks his tongue with disapproval, “You shouldn’t forgive him for how he treated you either, darlin’. You deserve better.”

“Well, I guess you’re just going to have to prove it me then,” you smile and with a sudden impulse, boop his nose. He laughs, nipping the pad of your finger.

“I guess I will.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x fem!reader #tw daddy kink #tlou fanfic #the last fo us fanfiction #hbo tlou fanfic #hbo the last of us fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfic

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itsjusthockey · 6 months

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Hughes Your Daddy? - Jack Hughes

hahahaha finally

enjoy

request

If I get 10+ comments/asks ill make a part 2

Yes, that's me bribing you, I want more interactions

w.c: 3,007 (credit to gif maker) (don’t steal my work)

The last few weeks of college are the worst weeks of a student's life. There’s nothing but studying, finals, and pure hell. Yet, when Ellen Hughes calls and tells you to get on a flight to Vancouver to be present at the Hughes Bowl, you fucking get on a flight to Vancouver.

The flight itself is terrific; you study a bit of your flashcards, drink some hot cocoa, and even get in a solid half-hour nap. You honestly feel a little sad when the intercoms go off, and they announce your descent into Canada.

The sadness washes away quickly when you clear the clouds and realize how excited you are. This trip, tomorrow’s game, is a very, very special event. Each Hughes brother will be playing on the ice tomorrow night, and you’ll be sitting, as requested, in the Hughes box overlooking it all.

As soon as the 737 touches down, you’re quick to switch your phone off airplane mode. You appreciated the few hours of bliss without endless notifications, but life has to go on. As soon as the iPhone gets service, a flood of messages rolls through. One from Ellen, to which you respond. Two from Quinn, which you answer. And 36 messages from Jack, which you ignore.

You should respond, and you will, but first, you have to get off the plane and find your favorite chauffeur.

Without further delay, you exit the plane, grabbing your carry-on and swinging your backpack over your shoulders. You smile at the few flight attendants on the way out and throw an extra thank you to the woman who gave you some extra cookies when she saw your flashcards.

The Vancouver airport is bustling, and you can’t help but feel the positive vibes radiating from the space. The entire airport is decorated for Christmas, and you’re reminded why it’s ranked one of the best airports in North America.

You make your way to the baggage claim, checking your phone to ensure you’re heading toward the right spot. You are, and while you’re walking, you pass all the cute little shops. You see a couple of little knickknacks, and you make a mental note to pick up something on your flight back. Now, however, you must focus.

The baggage claim area is pretty full, and you’re dodging people left and right. You’re unsure in the sea of people where Quinn might be hiding until you hear your name shouted from somewhere to your left. You turn your body, and there he is, waving a bit and standing with a small smile.

“Oh my god, is that Quinn Hughes?” You say in mock shock as you get within his earshot. “The newest captain of the Canucks and Vancouver's most precious gem?”

He rolls his eyes back as far as he can when you approach, but nonetheless, he pulls you in for a hug.

“Please stop.” He groans out as your part and takes your carry-on from you.

“Never.” You smile as he leads you out of the airport.

It takes mere minutes to get to the car, and you both catch up about whatever. It’s been months since you’ve seen Quinn, and whenever you’re with him, you’re reminded why he might be your favorite besides Ellen and Jim, of course.

As soon as you are settled into the passenger of Quinn’s car, he reaches back behind him and pulls out a small gift bag.

“Here, before I forget.”

You give him a questioning look, and he just gives you a slight smirk.

“Just open it. It’s more of a gift to everyone else.”

You squint your eyes a bit suspiciously but pull the tissue paper from the bag. As soon as you do, you see the familiar blue and white colors, and a laugh burst from your lips.

“Oh my god.” You shriek out, laughing, pulling the Canucks jersey from the bag.

You both immediately start laughing, and you can hardly contain yourself.

“Of course, you don’t have to wear it for the game.” Quinn says. “but he’s gonna flip if he sees you wearing it when they get here.”

You scan the Jersey and agree with the boy next to you. Your boyfriend is very possessive when it comes to jerseys, and he hates everything that isn’t red, black, or white and doesn’t have Hughes 86 plastered on the back.

“Oh, this is gold, Quinn.” You say, tucking the jersey back in as Quinn moves the car out of the lot.

“Ma and I thought so, too. She said it might humble him for the night.”

Speaking of humbling your boyfriend, you reach for your phone and go to text him back. You scan the many messages and roll your eyes at a few. Most of them are him just wanting attention, but the last one catches your eye.

we’re 2 hours behind ur flight. No fun or smiling before I get there

You read the text allowed to Quinn, who rolls his eyes at the statement, and you’re quick to shoot a response back, telling Jack that it’s too late and you’re having the best time ever.

————————-

As soon as you step through Quinn’s front door, you hear a happy yell, and Ellen is pulling you in for a long-awaited hug. You practically melt as she squishes you, and the happiest of laughs exits her.

“Oh, my sweet girl, I’m so happy this worked out.” She says to you, pulling back just enough to look at your smiling face.

You look behind her as Jim is standing nearby, waiting his turn. You give Ellen one less squeeze and then turn to the original Hughes and give him a big hug.

“Hey, kiddo,” He says. “Glad you’re here.”

As soon as you say your hellos, you move to get your stuff settled into your room. As quickly as you can, you throw your stuff down and pull on the New Jersey, making your way back out to the kitchen.

As soon as you enter, Jim laughs, and Ellen raises her hands to her mouth.

“Oh, Jack is gonna hate it.” She turns to Quinn and laughs, using him to steady her.

“Oh, we know.” You say, high-fiving Quinn as you grab a cup of some water.

As soon as you get your water, you all settle into the living room, and questions are flying left and right. You talk about school, work, and whatever else comes to mind about the time you’ve spent away from them. They hang onto every word, and you can’t help but smile. You’ve always been close to Jack's family, but when the one-year mark passed, it’s like they fully accepted you as one of them. Now, almost two years in, Ellen and Jim treat you like the daughter they never had, and they tell you often how much more they like you than any of their sons. You always laugh, but you know deep down that you are special to them. And that fact alone makes you consider yourself one of the luckiest girls.

“They just landed,” Quinn announces. “Almost showtime.”

Ellen winks at you from her space on the couch, and you settle deeper into the comfortable space, counting down the seconds until your boyfriend walks through the door.

—————————-

About half an hour later, you hear loud commotion as the door swings open and Jack and Luke enter the building. It takes less than three seconds for Jack to yell.

“Where is she?”

You laugh at him and yell back from the living room. “I’m in here.”

In mere seconds, Jack is in the room, making a beeline toward you. It’s the first time you’ve seen him in a month, and you won’t lie; he looks pretty good.

You make your move and step off the couch, going to hug him, but he halts in his place a few feet away, giving you a once-over.

“Get that shit off you.”

As soon as that leaves his mouth, everyone busts out laughing, and Jack gives you a less-than-impressed look. You feel a bit bad, so you give him a small smile and lift the jersey off your frame, revealing a Devils t-shirt underneath.

As soon as you throw the jersey away, he takes two long strides and engulfs you in a hug. You thought that nothing could beat Ellen’s hug, but Jack's grip nearly breaks your back.

You pull away after a second and pry him off of you. You love him more than anything, but you’re not about to show massive amounts of PDA in front of his parents, who are sitting a few feet away.

He gets this because he lets you go and gives his parents and brother a quick greeting, then leads you away from the living room. Everyone allows it to happen, and you find yourself in the privacy of the bedroom.

“You’re funny, but you better have my jersey for tomorrow night.”

You let out a small laugh and cross the room again, linking your hand behind his head and pulling him closer to you. His hands find home on your waist, and his fingertips dip under your shirt a bit, gently squeezing.

“I promise, J,” you grin. “I’ll do my best to show support to the losing team.”

He releases a soft gasp and gives you a slight look of betrayal.

“Losing team?”

Your grin goes even wider. “Check that stats, bud. You’re in a bit of a losing streak.”

He narrows his eyes a bit, and with one quick motion, he grabs your frame and tosses you on the bed. He enters attack mode, lays his entire weight on you, and begins grabbing at your sides. You, of course, go into defense mode and fight to push him off. You fight for power for a minute before you pull your defining move. He gets close, too close, and you give him your best doe eyes. The second he catches your stare, he folds, and he puts himself at your mercy.

For the first time in a hot minute, you pull him to meet you; the second his lips are on you, you implode. It’s been too long, and there is nothing more comforting and familiar than the boy lying nearly on top of you. You kiss him for a minute, your lips molding perfectly together before you pull away, gently patting his face.

“I think your family would like to see you.”

You push him away again as he rolls his eyes.

“I see them enough.”

He goes back to try to kiss you, but you push him away, putting a finger to his lips and shaking your head.

“Come on.”

He lets out an annoyed huff and removes himself from the bed, pulling you up along with him. You make your way back to the family room and laugh yourself into the family events.

Soon, you’re all playing board games, and you find out very quickly reminded about how sore of a loser your boyfriend is. You play board games cards, and when it gets late enough in the night, you all make your way to the living room for a movie.

You watch something light-hearted, and you can’t help but feel bliss as you’re tucked into Jack's side, surrounded by the entirety of the Hughes family. It’s a nice moment, and it’s the times like this that have you thankful you’ve stuck with the boy at your side.

——————

Before the sun rises, Jack's alarm blares next to you, and you can only groan at the noise. Alarms are truly nothing but an escape from bliss, and you wish you could stay forever in this little bubble. You’re warm comfy, and you don’t mind the boy you’re cuddled next to.

But alas, he is a slave to hockey, and he presses a quick kiss to your lips and swings himself out of bed. You follow a few minutes later, moving at a sloth pace. Instead of getting fully ready, you make your way downstairs to where the smell of bacon is wafting through the house. You’re almost giddy as you see Ellen and Quinn making breakfast, and you get even happier when Ellen places a steaming mug of coffee in front of you.

“You’re an angel, thank you.”

She gives you a big smile and pours another cup for herself. As soon as you catch the time, you offer to take Quinn’s place with the cooking, to which he gladly accepts and runs off to shower and get ready for the big game.

As soon as all the Hughes boys are out of earshot, you get down to business.

“I’ll raise to fifty on the Devs.”

Jim scoffs at your bet. “I love ‘em, but I disagree. Offense has been a bit sloppy. I’ll raise to a hundred on the Nucks.”

You quirk your eyebrow, then turn to the Queen, who seems to be pondering.

“I’m sorry (Y/N), but I think I’m gonna say Nucks too.”

You let out a soft groan but hold your ground.

“Alright. Final bet is a hundred. Winner takes all.

You all shake hands, sealing the deal.

As if you weren’t up to gambling, you act as naturally as possible as the three boys enter the kitchen. Each one is clad in a suit, and it warms your heart to see them all together. They look adorable, and you can’t help but laugh when Ellen demands a picture. They oblige, but like every other photo they take, it slightly looks like they’re being held at gunpoint. But you win some, you lose some.

Eventually, you’re all fed, happy, and once another alarm goes off, you know it’s time. You say your goodbyes to the boys, wishing them the best of luck. You hug Quinn, do your secret handshake with Luke, and press a quick kiss to Jack's lips.

Once you finish, they say their goodbyes to their parents and make their way toward the door, but they don’t get far before Jack pulls you toward him one last time.

“You ready to watch me destroy Quinn?” He teases.

You roll your eyes, pushing him away with a laugh. Nonetheless, you give him one last peck, swat his ass, and yell one final encouragement as he heads out the door.

“Don’t embarrass me!”

He flips you the bird as he gets into Quinn’s vehicle, and you smile and give him one back as you head back into the house.

You sit back down to finish talking with the parents l, and time ticks by faster than you’d like. Soon enough, it’s time to get ready, and you throw on your devil's jersey. You say a little prayer and hope they all do good. Things like this don’t happen often, and you hope it’s simply a good game.

———————

You smiled as wide as you could as the three Hughes brothers posed for a couple of pictures. You could see the distaste on all their faces, but they did it anyway.

Once they do the appropriate media, the game begins, and you’re sitting on the edge of your seat. It’s a good game, no, a great game. Soon, the first period is almost over, but not before your boyfriend has to remind everyone who he is, and he scores a goal.

It’s known that the Hughes parents don’t show much emotion at the games, and even more so when it’s their sons playing on opposite teams. So you control yourself, but you don’t miss when Ellen squeezes your hand.

The game continues, and it’s a nail-biter. Each minute you watch, you get more and more tense. Maybe it’s because you’re just nervous, or perhaps it’s the fact you have a hundred bucks on the line. But either way, you pray the clock ticks faster.

It doesn’t, but once Luke scores, you can’t help but start to think that this might be the end of a losing streak. You laugh on the inside because, of course, all it takes is a little brother rivalry to get the Devils back into motion.

———————

When the clock hits zero, and the Devils win, you practically die in your seat. You’re so thrilled for Jack and Luke, but a small part of you is a bit depressed for Quinn. But you know, if anyone can handle a loss like this, it’s the eldest Hughes, so you’re not too worried. Instead, you focus on your boyfriend, who, even from the box, looks the happiest he’s been in a while. He was given the title of the first star of the game, and you absolutely love it when he’s like this. You know he’s going to be in one of those unstoppable moods. You love it, but he can be a cocky little shit, and you know he’s going to be almost insufferable. You’ll take it, though, and embrace every part of it.

A few minutes later, the area starts clearing, and you’re all getting ready to leave the box, but you almost forget what is happening when Jim slides you a crisp hundred-dollar bill and winks at you.

“Jack really pulls out the stops when you’re at a game.”

You let a blush creep onto your face as you take the bill. You’d be lying if you said that you felt bad. This isn’t the first game you’ve bet on against Jim, and it certainly won’t be the last.

“Alright, you two gamblers, let’s go see the boys, shall we?”

Ellen leads the three of you down to where you’ll see the men of the hour. You feel the happiest you’ve felt in a while as you follow behind them, and when you get close enough, you can hear your boyfriend laugh from a short distance. Your heart skips the noise, and as soon as he spots you from across the room, he moves as fast as lightning to get to you.

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nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos · 8 months

Text

Look okay like I can't stop with the headcanons someone send help.

Between being married to a chef, and prior to that being the primary cook in my household from age sixteen to twenty-four, I absolutely love cooking. It's been one of my passions for years.

So we're doing headcanons about Reader asking the OPLA boys to cook with them.

Obligatory Sanji foodporn gif for purely aesthetic purposes

Not to be dramatic but I could watch that all day.

In the Kitchen

SFW

Definitely on the fluffy side.

LA!Sanji X Reader, LA!Zoro X Reader, LA!Shanks X Reader, LA!Mihawk X Reader, LA!Buggy X Reader

Sanji

"—and this is a boning knife, and this is a santoku, and this is a mezzaluna, and—"

Please.

Please please please cook with him. It will make his entire year.

You could wake him up out of a dead sleep at two in the morning and tell him you want to cook with him, and he'll be wide awake and literally dragging you into the kitchen in excitement.

You sharing in his passion is far more important than anything else.

And you'd best believe he's going to use it as an excuse to be even more flirty than usual.

Standing behind you with one arm around your waist while he shows you the best way to hold a knife to keep your wrist from cramping.

Kissing you on the cheek, brushing his lips to your neck, praising you for absolutely every little thing.

There's a very good chance this entire operation is going to devolve into a kitchen make-out session.

Zoro

"Hey, uh...is this supposed to smell like smoke?"

Just bear with him, he's trying.

Tells you he could probably burn a pot of boiling water if he tried hard enough.

You absolutely believe him.

Gets super frustrated about cutting his finger trying to dice an onion but absolutely refuses to give up. Unfortunately his frustration makes him even more clumsy with the knife and...oops.

Tries to multi-task like you do...and definitely ends up burning something.

Sitting at the table afterwards, tapping his foot and sulking about you having to put band-aids on his fingers. Says he's probably going to stick to swords after this...

...But secretly, he's pretty sure if you ever ask him again, he'll do it. He's too stubborn to give up for one, and for another he honestly enjoyed the experience with you despite the chaos.

Shanks

"Ooh, can we do that thing where you pour booze in the pan and it goes up in flames?"

So excited about this, living his best life like always.

Trying to flip the knife in the air and catch it and nearly dropping it on his toe instead.

Literally like a little kid.

He's got a little bit of know-how around the kitchen, but there's definitely room for improvement.

Gets beyond excited about getting anything right, especially if you praise him for it.

Standing behind you with his arm around your waist to watch how you do things, his cheek or his chin resting on your shoulder, just smiling while he listens to you explain the process.

Honestly he's just having a brilliant time doing anything at all with you.

Mihawk

"Are we absolutely certain this doesn't need more wine?"

He's way better at it than you expected, honestly—but then again, he has been living alone for literal years, so it's not that much of a stretch.

No, you may not use his cross-knife to peel potatoes with, no matter how much it resembles a paring knife, stop asking.

Cooking and wine absolutely go hand in hand with him—whether the recipe involves wine or not (but if he's choosing it probably does), he's still having a glass.

Pretty competitive about who's better at making what, but in a less serious and more playful manner.

Pulling out all the stops to ensure you're impressed—you're going to be making something incredibly fancy and classic, like Coq a Vin or Duck Cassoulet.

Absolutely iron focus—if he's cutting vegetables or seasoning something and you're trying to talk to him, there's a fair chance he won't even hear you at first.

Prefers slower methods of cooking—things that need to simmer for a while, braising, so on and so forth. More time to drink wine.

Buggy

"Penne for your thoughts? Don't give me that look, you know I'm hilarious."

An excuse to play with knives? Sign him the hell up.

Telling you he worked in the kitchen when he was on Roger's crew, but failing to mention all he did was wash dishes.

He has no idea what he's doing but he's having a simply marvelous time of it.

The food puns. Dear gods the food puns are unending. You're probably going to end up cutting yourself from either laughing or groaning incessantly.

He's definitely going to detach his hands and chill at the table or sit on the counter while they do the work for him.

Manages to catch something on fire within minutes (and you're ninety-nine percent sure it was intentional).

Just reveling in the chaos while you're rushing to get the baking soda to pour over said fire and clap a lid on the pan.

Don't leave him unattended if you value the continued functionality of your kitchen.

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aperrywilliams · 11 months

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Under the Rain (Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader)

(Not my gif. Credits to the creator!)

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

Author Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader.

Summary: Reader is waiting for Spencer in a restaurant to celebrate their 2nd anniversary. What happens when Spencer doesn't show up?

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Angst with a happy ending. Spencer fucked up but Reader loves him.

A/N: It's winter on this side of the world, and the rain makes me kind of sad.

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Is there anything worse than your boyfriend standing you up in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary? Yes, being stood up by your boyfriend in a fancy restaurant on your 2nd anniversary day while outside it’s raining cats and dogs.

That's worse. And pathetic.

You feel pathetic, sitting in that chair, all dolled up and waiting. You arrived at 19:30, and now your watch reads 20:45. No sight of Spencer.

What the fuck?

He was the one who suggested a romantic dinner in this very restaurant. He was the one who told you to make reservations. How could he forget it? You knew there wasn’t an active case. The very Penelope told you it was paperwork day when you texted her in the afternoon.

In the past hour, you dialed his number several times. You were worried at some point: what if something terrible happened to him? But you know bad news travels fast, so you assumed he didn’t show up just because he forgot. Deep down, you wanted there to be another explanation because if he only forgot, that would strengthen the idea of how little you mean to him.

Sensing the pitiful looks the hostess and the waitress sent you occasionally, you only wanted to dig a hole and disappear.

When the clock marked 21:00, you gave up. You asked the hostess for your coat and left the place completely silent.

The rain pouring outside was the perfect scenario for your current mood. You thought about calling a cab in front of the restaurant, but you only wanted to be far from that place as soon as possible, so you started to walk in the rain.

Goodbye to the stylish hairstyle that took you hours to achieve. Goodbye to the makeup you put so much effort into doing.

Striding along the sidewalk, you made sure to step on each water puddle you found along the way as you recalled every moment in the past months you felt Spencer away from you. And not only physically as when he was in a case. It was more than that. It was each morning he didn’t say I love you before leaving your shared apartment. It was each text he didn’t send telling you he was coming home or leaving for a case. It was each coffee you didn't share in the morning. It was each animated chat in the middle of the night you didn't have.

Were you being dramatic? You knew Spencer’s tendency to distract and engage in whatever his job could present him. In any other circumstances, you could have understood. Not tonight, though. Not when it was supposed to be your night together celebrating this milestone. The two years of love you thought were strengthening your relationship. How blind you have been. How naive.

You kept wandering on the streets with no destination. You didn’t want to come back to the apartment. You didn’t know where else to go either. So you kept walking.

Spencer Reid is a man with an eidetic memory. Everybody knows that. He can remember every piece of information people usually wouldn’t recall. He knows almost everything about anything. But even with his big brain, he sometimes has trouble keeping track of his own life. Like today.

Engrossed in a pile of manila folders from old cases, he lost time. A task meant to take just an hour or so kept him occupied and entertained for almost four hours. Emily’s voice was the only thing that brought him back from those files to reality.

“You still here?” Emily asked with a frown. Spencer looked at her oddly.

“Yeah. I was looking for patterns in our last cases in the northwest. What Tara said about the mixed murder weapons sounded familiar to me,” he explained before rubbing his eyes. He didn't notice how tired he felt until Emily interrupted him.

“Spencer, it’s almost 10 pm. And there is no active case. You can resume this tomorrow. I even thought you had plans today?”

‘10 pm’ and ‘plans today’ was enough to bring Spencer to realization.

“Fuck!” He yelped, jumping from his seat and freezing immediately, not knowing what to do.

“What?” Emily asked, seeing the panic in Spencer’s eyes.

“Shit. Shit. Shit,” he repeated over and over as he reached for his phone in his satchel.

“What is it, Reid?”

“Emily. I was supposed to be in a restaurant with (Y/N) tonight! It’s - uh - it’s our second anniversary,” he, visibly embarrassed, finished the sentence.

Emily shut her eyes, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Are you fucking kidding me, Reid? How on earth do you forget something like that?”

“I don’t know! I - I don’t really know. Fuck. I’m an asshole!” He checked the phone: twenty missing calls. Why he left it on mute?

“Stop complaining and do something! Come on! Move your ass out of here if you want a chance of not being precisely kicked in the ass by her,” Emily instructed. She knew Spencer needed directions when he was freaking out.

Spencer rechecked his watch. It read 10:05 pm.

Swearing under his breath, he dialed your number, which went straight to voicemail. Putting his coat on, he tried again while rushing to the elevator. Maybe you were still at the restaurant? Getting in the first cab he found, Spencer headed there.

Once he arrived, he asked the hostess about you. The girl told him you left after 9 pm.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

He called you again with no success. This time you turned off your phone. Spencer’s stomach was a knot, and his heart hurt imagining you sitting alone, waiting for him.

Were you at home? Spencer guessed you wouldn't want to see him, so it was less probable. Should he go there anyway and wait for you? No. You deserved better than that. He would look for you even if it could take all night. Taking a cab, he decided to check the apartment - just in case - and grab his car keys.

As expected, you weren’t in the apartment. Spencer faced the darkness and coldness of the place, and a chill ran down his spine—the fear of losing you forever.

In the car, he thought, where you could be. It was still raining, and Spencer feared you were getting soaked and frozen, God knows where.

It was at this kind of moment Spencer wanted his eidetic memory, and all the knowledge in his brain could help to compensate for the dose of common sense he lacked.

‘Come on, Spencer. Think. For once in your life, do it for what is really important for you.’

Spencer parked and rushed out of the car, hoping his hunch was correct. He was in a park. Not any park, though. It was where he met you three years ago—where his life changed forever and for the better for once.

You were in a swing, moving softly back and forth, your feet touching the ground. Your eyes focused on the rain collecting in the nook you created with your feet in the mud.

“(Y/N)!” Spencer called once he spotted you. The rain muffled the sound of his voice.

Your eyes didn’t leave the ground. At first, you thought you were imagining things. It could have been wishful thinking that your boyfriend really cared about you. He called again, and now your brain obliged your eyes to look toward the voice’s source.

Spencer was in a corner where the park's playground began. He was looking at you and wanted to run to you, but the fear you could run away made him stay there, as the rain dampened him.

The sight of you broke him. You were utterly soaked. Your coat and lovely black dress were ruined, and your face with traces of smeared makeup. He could even spot your bloodshot eyes, swollen from crying.

He caused that. And Spencer hated himself for it.

Seeing you didn't say anything, barely acknowledging his presence, Spencer dared to take some steps forward. Your numb body didn't even flinch.

“(Y/N). I’m sorry,” were his first words. Expectable but useless for you. “I fucked it up. I’m sorry. I should have been there. I wanted to be there with you,” he apologized, giving a few steps closer to you. Not looking at him, you mumbled.

“But you weren’t. And if you really wanted to have been there, you would have.” Your voice was low and husky. You sounded tired and defeated. It was worse for Spencer. For him, you should be yelling. Telling him how hurting you were. How an asshole he was.

“Baby, there is no excuse for what I did. The last thing I want in my life is to hurt you. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Spencer’s voice broke with each word.

What had he done? Why? How can he be so stupid? He loves you. You’re the most important person in his life, so why did he do that to you? How can he fix it?

Still not looking at him, you spoke again.

“I can’t understand, Spencer. It was our anniversary. You were the one who suggested doing it,” you remind him. He nodded, kneeling in front of you. It didn’t matter the mud, and it didn’t matter the rain still falling. Spencer needed to look at your eyes to explain himself.

“I’m an idiot. I lost track of time and forgot,” he mumbled. You held up your head and finally looked at him.

“You forgot? So it's true I’m not that important to you,” you concluded sadly. Spencer’s eyes widened.

“No! Don’t say that!” he pleaded.

“Am I wrong? I don’t think so.” Your chin wobbled, but you needed to say it. “I know your job is important, Spencer. I do. And I never wanted to compete with that because I thought I didn’t have to. But after these past months, I think I need to get used to the idea I lost you already,” you acknowledged with a pained sob betraying you. It was the pang of the meaning behind your own words.

The memories of the past months flashed before Spencer's eyes. And there he saw it. The kisses he didn't give you, the 'I love you' he didn't tell you. The nights he didn't sleep by your side—all the things he has been missing.

He realized that although he never doubted his love for you, he stopped nurturing it and took it for granted.

Crying, he took your hands, and by divine grace, you didn't push him away.

No words he could say would be enough to convey how sorry he was. But he needed to try because he didn’t want to lose you. You needed to know he loved you and that you owned his heart. You needed to know he just realized he made a mistake, and he wants to fix it.

“The first time I saw you in this very place, you were slowly swaying in this exact spot with your eyes focused on the book in your hands. I was so mesmerized that I never thought I would get the nerve to talk to you, you know? But I did. And when I saw the warm look you gave me when I asked you if you had read the author's biography, I felt my heart warming as never before. And when I heard your laugh after I clumsily tried to flirt with you? I swear it was the sound I wanted to hear for the rest of my life,” Spencer confessed, eyes sparkling at the memory. You fondly recalled it too. You never liked to talk with strangers all of a sudden, but with Spencer? It felt natural and right.

“You let me in in your life. You opened your heart to me and taught me how to do that too. You realized I’m not the best student in those matters, though,” he chuckled, seeing your nod.

“Despite that, you believed in me. You gave me a chance to love you, and I swear loving you has been the most natural thing that has ever happened to me. You have made me so happy (Y/N). You have no idea. And that is the problem. I have not known how to love you the way you deserve. I hadn't realized what I was doing. I'm sorry. I spent much of my life fending alone, not walking with anyone by my side. And I know that does not excuse my behavior. Even so, I dare to ask for an opportunity to prove you do not have to compete with my job. Give me a chance to prove to you I can be better. I can be the man who deserves your love. Please let me gain back your love and the privilege to hear you laugh again."

Spencer was almost out of breath when he was done speaking. You mulled in his words as his hands enveloped yours, patiently awaiting your response. Would you give him a chance?

As the rain continued pouring down, your eyes focused on him, still kneeling before you with hopeful eyes.

You know he loves you. Even if he needs to be better at proving it to you. And you love him even if you feel hurt for what he did. You both would have to work to make it work. You both deserved the chance, though.

The answer to his question was clear then.

You hopped off the swing and kneeled, not releasing his hands grasp and pulling him to catch his lips with yours. He kissed you back with everything he had. When both parted, you smiled at him, and Spencer was trying to figure out what that meant. You spoke to make it clear.

“Please, just don't make me regret being in this same place three years ago.”

Spencer earnestly shook his head.

“I won’t. I promise,” he told you before kissing you again under the rain.

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Spencer Reid's Taglist: @dreatine @nomajdetective @jayyeahthatsme @rosalinasam2 @averyhotchner @tvandfanfic @lovelyxtom @princessmiaelicia @pastelbabygirl19 @reidsbookclub @alexxavicry @gspenc @spencerreidisbae123 @calmspencer @pauline5525mgg @disaster-in-waiting @anamiad00msday @milivanili99 @laylasbunbunny @leahblackk @miaxx03 @missabsey @taintedstranger

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid angst #spencer reid x fem!reader #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #under the rain #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n

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lovifie · 19 days

Text

Well, I Wasn't On That Tunnel 🩷

Masterlist - Taglist Form

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 (6.5k words!)

LAST CHAPTER

Pairings: Ghoap x Reader.

(if you are in the mood for some Ghoap smut just go ahead)

Warnings: Poly, where do I begin? Oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, vaginal sex, meany Johnny, bottom Ghost, a squint of body worship to reader, threesome (duh), Ghost gets sandwiched for a bit, and Johnny doesn't shut up for a minute

It would be a reach to believe that everything was settled between the three.

It has been “talked”, but there was still an awkward film over them; that whenever they would lock eyes felt like they were teenagers talking to their crushes.

Gladly, for everyone, work was still work, and it kept them busy as always.

The med bay keeping you away from them, on the completely opposite side of the base; taking care of whiny recruits and concealing your smile when they would tell you to tell their loved ones they love them after giving them local anaesthetic.

The days usually going uneventful and alone. Well, not alone. The medical team worked, ate and stayed together. But feeling lonely without the two men.

On the south side of the base, everyone could tell that Simon and Johnny were a bit… snappy.

It was almost as if everyone had made a deal to keep them from going to see you.

Price telling them to organise the training session.

Recruits asking them to help with the training.

Laswell asking Johnny to prepare a lecture on explosives.

Like? Why was the world making it so hard to slope off? Why was everyone expecting them to do their job they get paid for?

Absolute nonsense.

Instead, they had to keep sending recruits that kept getting hurt to you. Seeing them whine as they walked, about how they were in pain. Lucky bastards.

So text messages it was.

“Morning!🩷” Texts, voice notes as you worked on something else, GIFs and Stickers back and forth.

Reminding Johnny how the newest smartphones worked was the funniest of the afternoon you had spent, especially when he turned on the front camera and he could only see from his eyes up.

“Shite, that's a big ass forehead. Could land an heli there”

Cue to Simon and you playing tic-tac-toe on his forehead via pics back and forth.

It was far, really far, for a conventional relationship, even for a poly relationship. And although whenever Johnny would managed to send a pic of Simon it made you feel you were an outsider to them; you had to remind yourself that he had taken the photo just to send it to you.

Slowly but surely, your gallery was filling up with pics of their faces, an obscene amount of Johnny's forehead pic as well, and when finally, the inexhaustible flow of scratched soldiers finally started to subdue; you bolted to Simon's room.

You don't even think of an excuse as to why you are going to see them, and you realize, half way there… that you don't need an excuse. And that simply wanting to see them is a reason good enough.

It hasn't been easy after the conversations, your mind still telling you they were using you; it was not something you simply forget after a good night sleep. But you still pushed yourself to believe them, that there wasnt any hidden intentions, that they were telling the truth.

The messages, the little calls, the sassy winks from across the training grounds, it all help to ease the feeling of intruding you had been feeling since catching them. Slowly but surely travelling to the back of your mind, to the box of things to be forgotten. Except the box spilled suddenly when you open the door to his room, and find them sitting on his bed.

With Johnny sitting on top of Simon's lap, grinding down against his groyne while their moans and whispers fall on eachother mouths.

Their head whip in your direction at the sound of the door opening. You can see the panic in their eyes, thinking they have been caught; relaxing only when they realize it is you.

“Shit, wow, sorry, I need to start knocking, ah?” You ask, with an awkward chuckle, you hand still on the knob. “S-sorry, I'll leave you to it.”

You barely move the door an inch before Johnny calls for you. “Bonnie, wait!’

“What?” You ask, still from the door, cheeks red from embarrassment.

“Do you… do you want to join?” Johnny asks, a shyness so improper of him. Looking at you, with a hand on Simon's shoulder and the other extended to you.

You feel frozen in place. It was something that was going to happen, sooner or later. It shouldn't have caught so much surprise, but you only find your voice when Johnny stands up to walk towards you. “Do… Do you want me to join??” You ask, looking up at him with a timid voice.

“Yes, fuck, yeah we do.” He answers, a deep chuckle flooding between words. He licks his lips, probably wet from Simon's mouth. His hand still waiting for yours, his eyes soft, awaiting your answer.

“Oh…” You answer, you know, like an idiot. “Okay.” You finally hold his hand and he pulls you closer, a tiny smile on his face.

From the corner of your eyes you can see Simon move to lay down on the bed, his back pressed to the wall, laying on his side and patting the mattress next to him. Johnny nods with his head towards Simon, telling you to lay down without words and you do. Almost skipping to the bed, crawling to move next to Englishman.

“I like your uniform, lass.” Johnny comments, his wide hand caressing your ass over the clothes.

You lay down, hugging Simon closely with your head in his chest, buried safely in his arms. And you turn your head to look at Johnny, faux offence in your look. “Respect the uniform, MacTavish.”

Simon's chest rumbles when he laughs deeply, his hand finding his way under your shirt to rub the skin of your back; just like when he found you in the house, pulling you even closer.

“Darling…” Johnny says, laying himself next to you, sandwiching you between the two men. “I'm about to disrespect your uniform… a lot.”

He uses the lifted shirt from Simon's hand to get his own against your skin; caressing your tummy up to your chest, but still innocent when he only uses it as leverage to push you against him when he feels the need to kiss your cheek squishing your face against Simon's chest.

You giggle against Simon's chest, whining about being squished and slightly pushing Johnny back. He raises his head, being levelled with Simon and looking down at you; they then look up to each other before Simon leans in kissing Johnny.

You are seeing it upside down, but still clear as day the desire in the kiss. Simon leaned in, eyes closed and you felt his hand on your back lift a finger to hook it on Johnny's sweatpants to pull him closer. Johnny has his eyes just the slightest bit open, barely enough to see the other and he smiles into the kiss.

“Eager, aren't ya?” Johnny whispers, making Simon groan.

“Shut up, Johnny.” He mumbles back, the hand on your back moving to Johnny's back pulling him closer squashing you in the middle. “I finally have you both”.

When Simon pulls Johnny closer, you feel both of his bulging erections against your body; the make out session clearly intense.

It makes you turn, switching to lay on your back, still looking up. Simon moves to kiss down Johnny's jaw, kissing his neck, licking up to his ear; Johnny catches you staring, head falling back and mouth open as you shamelessly look at the two men making out, and he winks at you.

You quickly look down, ashamed of getting caught, and you realise then what the weight on your thighs was. On each side of your body, and still trapped in the confines of their sweatpants, both men's growing boners rest over your thighs.

You feel small between the two massive men, and your hands move on their own when you rest them over the tents on their pants. You press them against your body, making both men groan. You move your hand up, grabbing the waistband pulling it down with their underwear. The thick, uncut member resting freely over your body.

It's not the first time that you have seen either of them, but it is still a sight to see them side by side. Bobbing at the lack of attention, a tear of precum glistering on Simon's tip.

You hear Simon talk above you, making you look up to see Johnny looking at you. “Let her do her thing…” is what Simon whispers to Johnny, cupping his face to pull him in for a kiss again.

Using your elbows to push your back off the mattress, you slide down the bed; your legs hanging from it when you get your head on the same level as their hips. You turn your head, setting your lips around the pinkish tip of Simon's shaft; hearing a grunt at the same time you feel a snap of his hips, not being able to prevent himself from moving.

You use your hand to massage Johnny's too, feeling the warm feeling of his skin in your hand; while you use the tip of your tongue to lick on Simon's slit, tasting his precum as you hear him whimper into Johnny's mouth.

With a loud pop, you let go of his shaft, only his head glistering with spit; and your turn your head to give the same treatment to Johnny. Except he lays his wide hand on the side of your head, making you lay your head back on the mattress.

“Stick yer tongue out, love” You do as he says, keeping your mouth open and your tongue out, the muscle twitching trying to stay still. Johnny fists his length at the base, giving it a whip for it to slap at your tongue.

The wet sound is nasty, the head of his member slapping your tongue. Johnny can feel your warm breath against his dick, feeling your saliva get stuck to him as well. Whenever he lifts it he sees the string of spit from your mouth pulling him back.

He switches motions, starting to glide his hips back and forward against your mouth. Simon's doesn't take long to join, only adding to the mess. You have your eyes closed, blinding tasting both men's scent, the musky smell leaving you lightheaded as they thrust smoothly back and forth, against each other and your tongue.

There is drool falling for the corner of your mouth, only making it more and more nasty. And the moans, grunts and whimpers coming from the men beside you has you sliding your hand down your body, towards where you feel your body crying for attention.

Except Simon, still in his pleasure driven mind, catches the movement, calling your mind. “Love, how are you going to have the two of us dying to touch you and still private us from it?”

The sound of his voice has you opening your eyes again, looking up at them and you can feel them twitching at the sight of such a blasphemous look. Your eyes blown wide and pitch black from arousal, a mess of spit, precum and sweat all over the middle half of your face, their wet and painfully hard members resting now over your chest, rising up and down harshly and your hand under the waistband of your pants. “I don't know…”

“Do you want us to touch you?” Johnny asks, his hand petting your head again softly and you nod timidly. “Words, bonnie.”

“Yes, please…”

“Let's take that respectable uniform off then.” Johnny jokes, patting the bed to motion you to move back up between them. You push yourself up,nestling between their bodies once again, and as if they had practised it before, they undress you at the same time they kiss you.

Simon is the first to have his lips on your, his hand cupping your jaw drawing circles with his thumbs. You hum into his mouth, feeling Johnny lick your neck, his tongue slipping between Simon's fingers as he starts to lift your shirt.

He moves down, sitting on his knees and kissing your tummy. His warm tongue getting a taste of your skin with each kiss. He pushes the fabric up, letting it wrinkle over your chest, groaning at the look of your sports bra.

Simon peels from you when he feels Johnny grumble about wanting to take them off. He takes the hem from Johnny's hand, pulling it over your head and Johnny doesn't waste the opportunity to do the same to your bra, leaving you bare from waist up.

And like a chain reaction both of them make their way to your breasts; Simon's kisses travel from behind your ear down to the swell of your breast, kissing your ribs before finally sucking your nipple into his mouth moaning at the feeling. While Johnny kisses your stomach again, burying his face on the softness of it, as he swiftly goes north, dragging his tongue from the underside to the side of your boob, before mimicking Simon and kissing your nipple.

Is also Johnny's hand the one that starts to run down your body, if it wasn't for the filthy sounds of kisses, licks and slurping filling in the room, you could hear the sound of the callous skin of Johnny's hand rubbing against the soft skin of your body. It is only when you feel his fingertips go under the waistband that you speak.

“Wait!”

And as if they had been electrocuted they both peel back, looking at your face. Except instead of explaining you stand up, jumping over Johnny to walk towards the door.

Johnny is quick on his feet, panicking that you will run; not because you couldn't go out but because they were afraid of having pushed you too far.

Still, he stops on his track when instead you lock the door. That was still unlocked. And turn to them, looking over your shoulder almost bashful. “You are not expecting anyone else, are you?”

Simon sighs relieved, sitting on the edge of the bed, that they had not overstepped. “Nah… got everyone we need in here.”

He motions you to walk to him, wanting you to stand between his legs and you oblige; pulling Johnny's hand when you walk past him.

You stand between Simon's legs, Johnny standing behind you hugging your middle. Simon kisses your stomach on the parts not covered by Johnny's hand and slowly lowers your pants. You kick off your shoes at the same time, standing completely naked between them.

Simon leans forwards, pressing his nose against your mound and sliding his tongue between your folds making you shudder. Johnny's hands travel higher, kneading your boobs in his hands while he buries his face on your neck.

You let your head fall back on Johnny's shoulder, moaning when Simon's tongue rubs against your clit. Johnny pities Simon, pulling one of your legs up to the side, giving full access to Simon who doesn't waste a second before diving in and dragging his tongue from your entrance to your clit giving it a harsh suck making you buck your hips as you fist his hair on your hand.

Johnny shushes in your hear, his other hand travelling to your core from behind; touching you along Simon's tongue. And while Simon's focus is on your clit, sending shockwaves up your body, Johnny slides one of his fingers onto your weeping cunt.

“Fuck yer tight…” Johnny moans into your ear. “Are you gonnae choke my dick this hard or is it only cause Simon sucking you off, hm?”

Your only response is a moan in the shape of Simon's name, making both men chuckle. Johnny fits a second finger inside of you making you whimper as you start to move your hips from Simon's mouth to Johnny's hand and vice versa. Johnny starts to move his hand, finger getting sucked in whenever he tries to get the out; your wetness rolling down between his fingers when he scissors them inside and Simon notices, moving down to lick Johnny's hand, tongue dragging between his fingers and inside of you.

When you look down, the only part of Simon's face you can see is his eyes, closed in blissful satisfaction at the feel and taste of your cunt on his mouth.

Both of them feel you clench, your first orgasm of the night approaching. And it doesn't matter how happy he is to finally be together, of you forgiving them, of wanting to pay you back for saving him; Johnny is not skipping an opportunity to tease you. “Coming already, lass? Bit needy, weren't ye?”

You chuckle between moans, biting back. “Yeah… unlike you two little dickheads, shit! I-I haven't gotten laid in a minute… fuck…”

Simon chuckles against your cunt, knowing perfectly fine he deserves way worse than that and focusing on keeping you mind off of it. Johnny does just the same, curling his finger and kissing your neck helping you fall over the edge with a loud moan.

You slide down, Johnny helping you rest on your knees between Simon legs with your head resting on his thigh. Simon pets your head, moving your hair out of your face. You open your eyes, coming face to face with his still rock hard member, and you look up to Simon, questioning.

“Back for more already, love?” He asks, deep chuckle on his chest when you nod blushing just a bit. Johnny laughs too behind you, pulling Simon's hand slightly.

“I have an idea. Stand up, Lt.” Johnny says, kneeling beside you and helping Simon take off his pants. “Two heads are better than one, ain't that right?”

Simon stands before the two of you, looking down and finding both you looking up at him; getting distracted by his mouth watering length just in front of you.

And at the sight of his two little zombies, back from the grave, the two only person that Simon has given himself the freedom to love, the only two person Simon let himself cry for after burying you, the two only person he has truly love; Simon can't contain the tear that drops from his right eye.

He tries to hide it, throwing his head back; but you see it, see the tear glisten as it drops on your cheek. But you don't say anything, and neither does Johnny when he wipes it with his thumb.

You lean forward, leaving open mouth kisses at the base of his shaft while you feel Johnny suck on his tip. It makes Simon groan, the angle of his neck making it sound raspier.

You move towards the tip, feeling Johnny's hand rest on your nape. When you are face to face with him, you feel his tongue move under Simon's dick, looking for your mouth. Pushing towards the tip to be able to finally kiss you, the open mouth kiss revolving in kissing Simon’s tip almost like it was a third tongue involved. And although it almost feels like excluding Simon, the sight of his two lovers kissing around his cock has him moving his hips against your lips; smearing the spit over both of your cheeks again.

Johnny pulls back, making you whine against Simon's dick. “Open wide, love.” Johnny tells you, moving behind you and cupping your face from behind.

Johnny holds your head as Simon lets his dick easily slide over your tongue, and when you close your lips around his length Johnny pushes his thumbs on your cheeks, making Simon feel the pressure on his length. He groans, feeling your throat open around his length to accommodate him as he moves deeper inside of your mouth.

“Easy now, you both.” Simon mumbles when he sees your eyes water as he moves down your throat. Johnny chuckles letting go of your head as he moves, switching to stand behind Simon.

Simon follows him with his gaze, aware already of his plan and the scot has the nerve to wink at him before diving between his cheeks. He rests a hand on the back of yours and Johnny's head, moaning at the double stimulation.

Johnny is ravenous on the way he eats him out, fingertips digging on the meat of his asscheeks spreading them, his unquenchable thirst for making Simon moan driving him to push his tongue deeper.

While you on the other side keep pushing forward, your nose closer and closer to his pubic bone, your soft hands massaging his heavy balls screaming for release as you keep sucking him in making him whimper.

There is a point, when Johnny's tongue is so deep and your nose is squished against his happy trail, your tongue sticking to lick at his balls, that Simon feels his knees buckle.

“Wait, wait, darling.” He whimpers, pulling your head back with a hand on your cheek pushing back softly. “You too, mutt!” He says, grabbing Johnny's mohawk to pull him back without actual strength. “I want to switch… Lay down on the bed for me, love. On your back, raise your legs.” He says, petting your head and you nod as you start to move, stealing a kiss from Johnny's mouth as your crawl passes him.

You lay just like he told you, propping on your elbows to caress his face when he kneels before you. You smile. “In need of some more, pussy boy?” You ask, overconfident in yourself; quickly falling back when Simon runs his hot tongue from your ass to your clit, flat, splitting your lips and making you moan.

Simon chuckles, before turning his head back to look at Johnny over his shoulder, using his hand to spread his cheeks. “It ain't gonna prep itself, Johnny.”

“Fuckin’ hell…” Johnny says chuckling, slapping Simon's ass before standing up and going to his bag. Both Simon and you look at him, wondering what his intentions are and you smile when you see him pick the lube bottle from his back.

Simon rolls his eyes when Johnny shakes the bottle at him, teasingly. Johnny kneels behind him, slapping his ass again but keeps his hand on the taut meat to pull it apart. He moves down, kissing down his back to his already spit covered hole.

Simon sighs at the feeling, leaning on your touch when you pet his head, kissing your wrist before diving back into your folds. Sliding his tongue in circles around your clit, softly sucking it into his mouth.

It is quite the sight to have Simon on his hands and knees in front of you, eating you out and drinking your juices up like a puppy while you see Johnny's head peek over the curve on his ass.

You keep your hand on Simon's head, brushing his hair back as he hums against your cunt. Ah… Johnny's tongue… you are familiar with the feeling.

So you don't blame him when he stills on his movements, tongue falling out of his mouth without care as he moans at Johnny's tactics. Instead, you plant your feet on the edge of the bed, using your hand to grab Simon's hair and slowly start to grind against his face.

You see his eyes widen for a second when he looks up at you, not expecting being downgraded to a ribbed mat to grind against. Not that he cared too much, not with the moans falling so prettily from your mouth and not with the way you so desperately cling to his hair.

He's embarrassed of himself, of the weak excuse of head he's giving you. He should be lapping up your weeping cunt like a parched dog at its bowl, and instead he is just slobbering all over your pretty folds, barely able to suck at your clit.

But he can't focus any better, not when Johnny's tongue is curling inside of him in a way that has him wanting to push himself back onto his mouth, eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. He tried his utmost effort not to whine when he feels Johnny retrieving his tongue, moving back to his knees.

Johnny pops the bottle open, splattering a generous glob of lube between Simon's cheeks, making him grunt at the coldness. Johnny chuckles at him, his fingertip teasing at his entrance, pushing the lube in and he leans on Simon's shoulder. “Aww, bit too chilly for ye, Si?”

“Get at it already.” Simon grunts as an answer when you pull his head back, the tip of his ears red with embarrassment and lust. Johnny lands his free hand on the back of his head, pushing his face back against your cunt.

“You get at it, eejit. Got bonnie bored out of her mind, making her do all the work.” He teases Simon. You slap his hand, scolding him; not wanting Simon to feel bad. But Simon notices the way your ankles are shaking from holding yourself up grinding against him, and he moves his hands from the ground to around your hips, pushing you against his face.

He is resting on his elbows, holding your cunt at level with his mouth as he dives him right between glistering folds. Shaking his head in, his nose smushed against your clit, bending with each shake making your legs buckle; he slides his tongue in, curling it and feeling every rib of your walls drowning down on your taste.

Johnny smiles when your moans rise in volume, your head falling back, he lets go of Simon's head while petting his head like a dog. “Atta boy.” He rests his hand on Simon's shoulder, leaning to kiss his back as he slides a finger in.

Simon's eyes flutter closed, feeling his ass suck Johnny's finger in. He moans against your core, not relenting on his assault and soon enough Johnny is sliding a second finger. The stretch making him arch his back; and Johnny starts to pick up the pace, smiling when he notices Simon roll his hips to meet his fingers.

“Look at you, Simon… getting all loose and soft for us… you can’t wait to get fucked stupid, can you?” Johnny smiles, kissing Simon's shoulder.

But Simon is struggling, he desperately wants to get you off before doing so himself. He really is trying his best, but when he tries to keep himself from coming he clenches around Johnny's fingers only making it worse.

He can feel you are close, sucking his tongue in when you grip him, just a couple seconds more, he knows it. And then Johnny curls his fingers sneakily and Simon is coming all over the ground, moaning loudly against your awaiting cunt, unable to move and ruining your orgasm making you want to cry.

He feels bad, he feels really bad for doing you dirty like that. Johnny only laughs softly, just for him to start moving his fingers at light speed making Simon whine as he crawls towards you, away from Johnny who only follows him.

Simon hides his face in your stomach, moaning loudly at Johnny's attack, his fingernails digging into your thigh at the overstimulation. You whine Johnny's name, your cunt still spasming with the ruined release and Johnny finally pulls his hand back, slapping Simon’s ass.

“Move to the bed, Lt. You so fucking massive I can't even reach our girl.” Johnny says, teasing him even further as he moves to lay on his back on the mattress. Johnny stands up to finally take off his clothes, moving to kneel between his legs, grasping Simon's softening dick on his hand making it slap against his abdomen. “Look at you, Lt… I thought you promised our girl a nice fuck, what are you going to do with this?”

“Shut the fuck up, Johnny.” Simon says, moving his hand to caress your leg from where you are sitting next to him. “Just need a minute…” he mumbles.

Johnny spreads his legs, collecting the lube sliding down Simon's crack with the bulbous tip of his length before probing at his entrance. “In the meantime… Fuck, Si… C’mon, pretty boy… Open wide for me.”.

He starts to push forward, pushing Simon's legs as well against his chest, bending him in half. It knocks the air out of him, making throw his head back with the mouth open on a silent scream of pleasure.

He feels filled to the brim, and he hisses when Johnny starts to move his hand up and down his shaft. And although it is borderline painful, he can help the moans that fall from his lips when Johnny rolls his hips against his.

“Singing like a pretty bird, you are, Si…” Johnny comments, looking at you and seeing how you discreetly try to slide your hand between your legs, desperate for the release. Their poor girl, their poor sweet girl. Her two lovers right beside her and still feeling neglected of the attention she so badly deserves; too sweet to even ask for it. “Ride his face, darling. Don't mind if he can't breathe, that's what he gets for leaving you hanging.”

At the sound of his voice you instinctively close your legs, moving when you see him move his head to point to Simon's head; only to be met by his heart shaped pupils with his hand extended to you calling you in.

You move, sliding your legs over his head as you hoist yourself over him and look between your legs, seeing Simon laying with his mouth wide open, tongue resting over his lower lip waiting for you to sit down on him. When you take too long to do so, Simon grabs your hips, offended by the distance, pulling you down against his face, making you rest your hands on his chest.

He doesn't care to breathe, and if this is the way he dies? Well, he can't think of a more glorious way to go out.

Johnny snaps his hips, making Simon move and therefore grind his face against your cunt. And the harmonious moans sound to him just like a starting shot. He starts to roll his hips, picking up the pace and making the thrusts hard enough to make Simon bounce at them.

The moment Simon mouth is back on focusing on your core, you feel your orgasm turn around embarrassingly quick, moans and whines slipping past your lips in abundance. Grinding your hips once again against Simon's face who's moaning back just as much. Your body easily forgetting the offence of having gotten your release pulled away so harshly.

Johnny leans forward kissing you feverishly, making you cling to his shoulders as you moan in his mouth. He feels guilty too, it was his doing what made Simon unable to function, even if it makes him proud how easily he can get the man undone. So to silence his guilt, he lowers his hand, dragging it down on your body, until he reaches your clit; rubbing tight circles making you wail into his mouth.

“Fuck… Fuck, I'm gonna… Shit!” You close your eyes, letting your face fall into his neck, your legs shaking around Simon's head against his tight hold of your thighs with anticipation and you finally feel the coil in your inside snap. And out of everytime that Simon has been waterboarded this is definitely his favourite, drinking up every drop you are willing to give him.

You gasp for hair, your body shaking with the aftershock of your orgasm and Johnny moves his hand to your waist, keeping you up. “Good girl, what a fucking good girl you are, love. We are so fucking lucky to have you.” He slows down on his pace, helping you lay on Simon's body and letting Simon's legs rest around his hips so you can rest your head; your legs still over his neck, not that he minds it; leaving kisses on the back of your thigh wetting your skin with the moistness of his face.

Johnny pets your head resting on Simon's abdomen, stilling on his movements to wait for your answer. A shiver runs down your body as you mutter “fuck”, making both chuckle and you look up to Johnny.

“You broken, baby?” He asks, smiling.

“Not yet, Johnny.” You answer, wrapping your hand around Simon's still soft dick to lazily lick his tip; pulling back the skin to slide your tongue over his slit to taste his salty seed that ended up wasted on the floor. Johnny looks up to Simon, seeing how he tightly closes his eyes, throwing his head back with a deep groan.

It's the mix of Johnny's ridiculously thick cock rubbing against his prostate on each thrust and your warm mouth engulfing him in that makes him start to chub up at a record speed of refractory period.

You feel it in your mouth, how each bob of your head has your jaw stinging more and more. You look up to Johnny, staring at you in awe at the way you swallow the massive dick of Simon, timing his thrust with your movements. “Yer a fucking eye candy, love.” He says, caressing your cheek. “I can't fucking wait to see yer pretty face every morning.”

He moves his hand to the back of your head, keeping it in place when you have Simon's dick stuffing your throat and he rolls his hips deeper, as deep as he can; leaning his body forward just to feel your forehead rest over his pubic bone.

He pulls back, letting you move back as you pull Simon's cock out of your throat letting it fall on Simon's abdomen with a wet thud, his length finally on his full size again, spit connecting it to your lips as you breathe harshly. Simon groans, the air of the room cold in comparison with your warm mouth.

Johnny picks you up, making you sit over Simon's dick with your back pressed against his chest. “Are you gonna ride his dick like a good girl, love? Hm? Gonna help me fuck him silly?” He asks, making you nod as you whine at his words.

You move a hand down, wrapping it around Simon's base and sitting down on it. The wetness of his length and the arousal still dripping from your cunt the only relief of the stretch of his dick.

You sit down smoothly, moaning incoherent words as you use your hand to rest on Simon's chest. And for Simon it is too much, never has he felt this full and wrapped so tight on his life. The only reason why he hasn't cum already being his dick being barely back to life.

He looks up, at how Johnny is hugging you from behind, hiding his face on your neck and whispering praises while he keeps thrusting forwards. At how you have your head resting on Johnny's shoulder, the prettiest noises falling from your mouth as you slide up and down his length.

His two lovers, finally with him, and as close as he can. He wants to cry again, except this time is also for the overstimulation. He whines, weakly moving his hips to meet both Johnny's and your movement.

But he can't, his balls stuck between you and Johnny clenching with the need of release. He can hold it much longer but he needs to hold it, for you, for Johnny.

Johnny was right when back in th car he told him he was going to break the moment you joined the picture, how the two of you were going to fuck him stupid. Fucking Johnny.

But Simon is not the only one affected, he sees how Johnny's eyebrows furrow, trying his best to keep himself from coming undone, holding himself back so nicely like the good boy he is. So Simon can't let him updo him, resting his hands on your hips; moving his thumb lower to circle your clit.

Johnny's hands move lower, interlocking his fingers with Simon's on your hips; using you to push Simon back against his hips.

And like a chain reaction, when you finally fall over the edge with a silent scream as little white dots fill your vision, Simon spurs thick ropes of his seed deep into your cunt when he feels you clench. Leaving Johnny freedom to snap his hips fast against him looking for his release, moaning beautifully when he also spills deep inside of Simon.

You lay over Simon's chest, Johnny laying next to Simon and pulling you in the middle, kissing your shoulder. The warmth from both bodies surrounding you making you feel the safest you have ever been.

It’s a comfortable silence, basking on the afterglow of an amazing session that has left the three of you unable to move right. Three pairs of legs tangled together, Johnny's arm over your body keeping you close to Simon and him. The silence only breaks when you speak.

“Does this mean we are dating now?” The question making the both of them chuckle.

“We haven't gone on a date.” Simon points out.

“Do you want to go on a date?” Johnny asks behind you.

“Yeah! I would love to.” You say smiling widely.

And after learning all his life how to hate, Simon finally had reasons to teach himself how to love. Because all this new range of emotions, of wants, of needs, of reasons to smile, to wake up in the morning; the origin of it all are lying right next to him, talking about where they want to go on said date.

Simon Riley was a man that died years ago, the soldier nicknamed as Ghost pulling his corspe out of his grave. And after so many years of killing, torturing and ignoring every human emotion from his cold heart; he is finally starting to see himself in the mirror.

The three of them having their own strange death, still coming back with more of their pieces intact, and getting drawn together like a magnet. Maybe it was just normal, no one can understand what is like to die as good as somebody who has done it too, maybe it was destiny way to apologise to almost actually killing them; or maybe it was simply and normal attraction that started the moment every one of them met the rest, and the three were too prideful, too coward or too insecure to actually recognise the feelings as such.

And maybe, in the future, when Johnny’s memory is complete again; he will admit to them how he started to have slim flashbacks of them before the accident. Glimpses of their faces, of nicknames, of kisses on the cheeks, of sighs leaving his mouth when watching them. But for now, he will keep them to himself, and rather that reminiscent on those past memories; he will build new ones, as his, and not as the man he was before the accident.

Many things could have gone differently if the tunnel had fallen on him, and luckily it didn't; because after all, well, he wasn't on that tunnel.

That's all, people.

Hope you enjoyed the "mini" serie, mini because in 5 chapters I wrote almost 25k words. But I hope you enjoyed every one of them just as much as I did. 🩷

@crashtestbunny @going-to-ikea-for-the-fries @waiting-so-long @mothymunson @cod-z

@lyralein @whos-fran @thevoidwriting @sklt987659 @dumb12bvtch1212

@thatonepupkai @darkangel4121 @spadekip @herefor-tojis-tits @soupinasock

@arbesa-mind @cmbghost @multifandomheathenannie @tooloudarts @panikk-attackkk

@reap3erslov3 @mothsdrabbles @ghosts-hoe @cassiecasluciluce @sleepdeprivedkat

@lunamoonbby @hatterripper31 @contractedcriteria @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @fraserbraw

@rosiehale23 @keiva1000 @sw33tsnow @loveandplanet @sobbingnshtting

@dprmoon @simpsallthetime1997 @ladyxtiger @soapsmohawk-16 @nina6708

@katreintjie @sacvh @thesinsoflust @sodavrr @yuki2129

@idk-justkane @shanhalen @dukeofjjune @crinoid90 @thatoneslvt

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sarahisslytherin · 6 months

Text

rose garden filled with thorns

peeta mellark x reader

summary: peeta and katniss are just playing their parts, aren't they? sometimes you're not so sure.

contains: angst, jealousy.

a/n: ngl i'm proud of this one. shoutout to @oweninadaydream for being my cheerleader for this fic. gif by @bookcentral.

word count: 840

Just this morning you had woken up in Peeta’s arms; now you watch him glide across the dance floor with Katniss in your place. The Capitol party is in full swing now, pastry-shaped bursts of color flashing past you and music blaring. Snow’s garden is overflowing with people, yet you find yourself with no one to turn to. It seems you’re left with nothing else to do other than seethe in the distance as you sip on what feels like your hundredth drink and your eyes follow the capitol’s “star-crossed lovers”.

You had always been fond of Peeta. You would go as far as to say you might had been harboring a bit of a crush on him all these years. You wished you could’ve told him what to expect at his own games before he was reaped, but you had never found the right moment. There was never a right time to tell him of the horrors he would witness, and learn to live with if he somehow managed to survive. You were thankful for his love for Katniss back then, it is what saved them in the end. But now, after that romance had fizzled out upon their return to District 12, and yours had only begun, you feel the pang of jealousy reverberate in your stomach like the fire of a cannon.

You can only watch for so long before you feel the need to run off, to escape the scene one way or another. The more you look at them, the more they seem to belong together. Did you really think you would be able to get in the way of their famous love? Peeta swears it’s all an act, that they’re only indulging the public to keep Snow content and the dangers at bay. Part of you wants to believe him, but with the way his hand rests on Katniss’ waist as they dance, the way he seems to gravitate towards her no matter where she is tells you otherwise.

You wander the grounds, your heels sinking into the grass-covered soil with every step. The music from the party fades out the farther away you get, relief washing over you as you realize it. You take refuge in an isolated greenhouse which you find to be brimming with Snow’s signature ivory roses. You try not to pay them mind, beautiful as they may be, because you know just thinking about the man who put you all in this game will make you sick.

Your head is spinning from the heat of the night, from the tight confines of your capitol-friendly attire. You’re in such a daze, you almost don’t notice Peeta’s voice echoing your name until his face is mere inches from yours.

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere!” he scolds you, as if he has any right to. “How could you just run off like that?”

“I’m surprised you even noticed.” you retort, your words slurring a bit. Peeta’s brows knitted as if wanting further explanation. “What with all your attention on your darling fiancé.”

"You can't be serious." he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You know it's not like that."

"How do you think it makes me feel, Peeta? Watching you with her. ever since your games it's been painfully obvious. You loved her then and you love her now."

"Y/n." you hear him groan, but you ramble on.

"I don't know why I lie to myself. I tell myself you moved on, that you love me now. It was stupid. I don't hold a candle to 'the girl on fire'." You barely even notice the tear that dribbles down your cheek until Peeta’s thumb swipes it away. When your gaze meets his it’s like being in the eye of the hurricane, in your own personal haven.

“It’s all for show, baby. You gotta believe me, it’s all for the Capitol.” he pleads with you, crouching down to meet your eyeline. “Whatever feelings I had for Katniss are gone, I swear.”

You sniffle, helping peeta to dry your tears. “How can you be so sure?”

“How can I be sure?” he repeats, laughing incredulously. “Because every moment I’m with her I spend wishing I was with you.” His hands come up to cradle your face, delicate in his grasp. You know your feelings of inadequacy won’t disappear with a few pretty words, but for now it is enough. Your breathing has steadied, your tears have dried. This isn’t just anyone, it’s Peeta; and he’s your Peeta now.

“C’mon.” he smirks in that way that looks like he's got everything under control. He stands, offering his hand for you to take, and you do. You pull him in by his suit and plant a passionate kiss on his lips. “Let’s get back to the party. You still owe me a dance.”

You giggle at that, hand in hand as you leave the solitude of the greenhouse. “Alright, Mellark. As long as you don’t step on my toes.” He snickers. “I won’t make any promises.”

#peeta mellark #peeta mellark x reader #peeta mellark oneshot #peeta mellark x you #peeta mellark x y/n #the hunger games

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cheriladycl01 · 6 months

Text

I cant do this anymore - George Russell x Wolff! Reader P2

Plot: You are the daughter of Toto Wolff team principle of Mercedes-AMG Petronius, you’ve worked your whole life to become an Engineer. However, your dad has other ideas for you and doesn’t want you to become a race engineer. You start to confide more in the Red Bull racing Team Principle to help you get an engineering job, and see him as a present father figure.

A/N hope you guys eat this up

Credit to russellius for the GIF

“Max, hey bud” Charles says walking up to Max, patting him on the back. The group formed around Sergio, Dani and Max. All of them wanting to know why Y/N was in the Red Bull garage.

“Hello Charles” Max smiles taking a long sip from his team water bottle.

“So why was mini Wolff sneaking around here, is she with one of you, well more likely Sunshine Boy over here?” Alex asks, hoping for his prediction to be right, obviously thinking Dani to be the most likely choice considering both Max and Sergio were off the market.

“Unfortunately no” Dani sighs dramatically leaning against the wall.

“One of your fine engineers then maybe?” He adds, he wanted to be right. Lily and Y/N were close friends and Lily had admitted that she had been acting strange for the last few months. Kind of like when she has a secret new boyfriend who she thinks her dad won’t approve off, just slightly different. He trusted Lily on her judgements and didn’t think she’d be wrong.

“No, not that we are aware of” Sergio admits, looking between Max and Dani to see if any of them had anything else to admit, but they both kept quiet. George and Lando looked between each other, wondering why else she would be here.

“Well I’m sure Toto won’t mind me telling him his daughter was nearing around the Red Bull garage” George admits, a scowl on his face.

“Don’t tell him” Max says, his husky voice deepening, glaring back at George.

“You can’t stop me, he’s my team principle. I can tell him anything” George retorts, George had a crush on you for back in his Williams days, and the minute he moved closer to you in Mercedes it was even more prominent. Toto had learned of this and forbid him from ever actually doing anything about his feelings for you. So anything that affected you, or something that was a suspected harm to you George would for sure be all over trying to help you.

“Look, if you don’t want to hurt her… like we all know you don’t. Then you won’t stay anything alright” Max says getting all up close to George, before tapping shoulders as he walks off into the hospitality of Red Bull. Sergio and Daniel follow after him leaving the four confused at Max’s odd words.

“What the hell was that about” Lando asks, he knew Max struggled with his anger but there wasn’t exactly anything to be angry about. Lando knew Y/N they were very very close. So the fact that all of this was going on was making his head spin.

“I have no clue, but I think we should talk to her” Alex admitted.

“She isn’t going to talk to us though, not with the way she ran off today” Charles offers.

“This is a job for Lily and Alex” Alex admits knowing how close the three girls were. In their free time on race weekends they’d all go for lunch and out for shopping and often had girlie spa vacations together.

Thursday came around very quickly, and you’d made your way to the Red Bull garage in the early hours of the morning, Christian had been there waiting for you and handed you the team shirt that you would wear while you worked here. You guys had joked about potentially making a campfire so that you could burn your Mercedes gear, but Christian said that that was going a little bit too far.

Now it was halfway through the day, and all the team principles were in a meeting, one that was being held on media day by Sky Sports.

“So Christian have you managed to find anyone to be Max's race engineer for this race that is up to the standard of his last who will be out for a long period of time" Martin Bundle asks.

"We have in fact, are we allowed to have her come up on stage for introductions?" he asks pulling his mic a little closer to him.

"Oh woah, how does Max feel about having a female engineer?" a random reporter from the back shouts, making Christian frown at the question.

"Well, he is sad to see his current engineer go as they have been together for a while now, but he's very welcoming to the idea of having someone new" Christian says, currently Max's PR manager was trying to get you to go up on stage and sit in the seat next to Christian but you pulled your Red Bull cap down, trying to stay as low-key as possibly.

"Y/N come on you have to go there!" she offers trying to get you to go up on stage.

You eventually get pushed up on stage, back to the cameras and the cap completely covering your face. Your head stayed down the whole time before taking your seat.

"Show them" Christian whispers to you, you lift you head up looking at all the reporters in front of you. Camera flashes erupt throughout the room the minute they spot you.

"Is that Y/N Wolff?" One of the reporters asks in shock, making Christian look at you with a proud smile.

"I'm extremely happy and proud to confirm that Y/N Wolff will be joining us as Max Verstappen's engineer until further notice" he beams, pulling you in for a hug.

"Toto? Did you know about this?" Martin asks, looking over to the older male whose face was full of anger, disappointment and betrayal.

"No" he answers bluntly crossing his arms over his chest.

"How do you feel about this?"

"Well, I don't think its good sportsmanship at all, I should have been told about this. I have been betrayed by my own flesh and blood" he sneers looking over at you, your head tilting down.

"And Y/N what made you make this change?"

"Let's just say, Mercedes weren't giving me opportunities, that Red Bull now are" you smile, you stay by Christians side for the rest of the meeting before leaving only to find most of the drivers all waiting for you in a communal area.

"Well done we're proud of you. And i cant wait for testing tomorrow!" Max says pulling you into a hug.

"How could you do this to your dad, he's given you everything" George shouts pushing Max away from her and stepping up to her. Lando and Alex come up either side of him to make sure he doesn't actually do anything to hurt his imagine.

"I - I wasn't happy..." you started but get interrupted by him again.

"What, not happy being a golden child? Not happy being born into wealth and not having too do anything because daddy paid for everything. Not happy that your clothed in designer brands everyday, or that you travel in a private jet all around the world. Is that not enough?" he shouts at her, he kept walking closer and closer to her, backing her up until she was against a wall. All the other drivers followed, Lando even trying to pull George back by his wrist was was flicked off the second there was contact.

"George" Alex starts, not liking how close he was. But with all the commotion and all the shouting, Toto also decided to join the group of drivers surrounding you. Shouting and asking why you'd left Mercedes for Red Bull.

In the state of things your mind couldn't keep up with everything that was being thrown at you, your voice was week as you quality started to beg them to stop. Your hands came up over your ears everything getting too much. Tears were forming in your eyes, and your legs gave out as your back slid down the wall, your shaking form now on the floor.

"EVERYONE BACK UP" you hear as voice shout. Within seconds someone is helping you up, while helping you to walk to the garage.

"Hey hey hey, its okay, its okay" Christian says to you as he holds your shaking body, hugging you tightly to your chest while brushing your hair comfortingly.

"I I" you stutter not not actually be able to breath.

"He shouldn't have said that you, and the others should have done more to stop him. I'm sorry i wasn't there. Max came and got me, I told him to come back here" he explained as you sobbed more into his chest.

The thought of someone who was once your friend turning on you saying such horrible and disgusting things about you, was something you didn't think you'd ever have to experience.

"Maybe he's right though" you said in a small voice.

"No he's not and tomorrow with Max will prove that to you" he smiles, getting up and holding his hand out for her.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08

Just a reminder I am a minor free or minors do not interact blog, if you are a minor please do not interact!

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #george russel imagine #george russel x reader #george russell x you #george russell #george russell imagine #george russell smut

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adora-but-ginger · 17 days

Text

Aspersion

aspersion (noun): an attack on the reputation or integrity of someone or something; an accusation.

pairing: eventual spencer reid x gender neutral! reader

synopsis: in which spencer reid pushes a little too far

warnings: both spencer and the reader are assholes to each other a little, but it is justified! swearing (probs), typical cm violence and such, tension thicker than a cement wall

masterlist

word count: ~2.1k

a/n: hello and welcome to my first official criminal minds fic! all of the pieces in this anthology can most likely be read individually, but they will have connected themes throughout! please enjoy the first work in my "psych you out in the end" collection. want to be tagged? Let me know!

also casual reminder that this is glasses reid because i am gnawing at my enclosure over him

not proofread whoops

credit to gif owner!

It had been a long case. Five days in and little to no leads, yet a serial killer was still on the loose. This was your fourth case with the team now, most of which were still pretty apprehensive of your "psychological abilities." Penelope, who you've come to like the most, has been the kindest to you, even asking as far as for you to do her tarot. The rest of the team weren't as easygoing, but that wasn't the point right now.

It was of upmost importance to check out the latest crime scene, and you were paired with the hyper-suspicious Doctor Reid. He out of everyone trusted you the least, but now was the time to hopefully change that. He was a genius and you could read people, after all. You couldn't get a good read on him though, mostly because you two hadn't been around each other long enough to have more than a professional conversation. This was the first time it was the two of you, and you were going to make it count.

You could decipher anyone's aura, yet you were still a people pleaser. Ironic, almost.

"It looks like there was no forced entry, meaning that the unsub was someone they either knew or felt safe with." He darted his tongue between his lips after he spoke.

"Yeah, but aren't people in this neighborhood generally trusting? I think we should focus more on what he took." There was something itching at you about this scene, something that felt off.

You were a professional profiler, but you could just sense people's inner selves and auras--auras helped direct you into a person's mind and feelings. It varied per person and you weren't the best at explaining it, but you could tell a lot about someone if they even walked past you.

"Are you saying that the door might have been unlocked?"

"I'm saying it's a possibility."

Reid without a glance in your direction shook his head. "You know that's a very unlikely scenario, statistically women will secure their home much more than men, especially if they're living alone. Research also shows that when someone is under the impression that they can hold more than average strength either physically or mentally, they act out in irrational ways." He shrugged his eyebrows before murmuring quietly. "Like joining the FBI."

Did he just insult you? "Excuse me? Reid I'm just saying that we should shift our focus. Gideon said you had trust issues, but he didn't explain their severity." Had he really tried to undermine you in a way that he thought you wouldn't notice?

"Gideon makes decisions that could end up hurting the team more than helping them sometimes."

Okay now that was a diss. Wasn't he the one who hired Reid, too? You had dealt with people like this before, and you weren't going to let him get to you. "Let's just finish up and go meet up with everyone else."

The unsub was found and arrested two days later. Ironically, he was entering through unlocked doors, a detail that you were sure Reid was not too happy with when he found out. You were all on the jet ride home now, and would be here for the next few hours. This was the farthest case from Quantico yet, meaning the team finally had time to interrogate and learn more about you. Something that Emily and Derek were jumping at.

"Can you read my mind?"

"Can you tell what I want for dinner?"

"Can you tell when it's going to rain?"

They had both sat down across from you simultaneously, overwhelming you art first.

"Okay hold on." You threw your hands out slightly as a cue for them to stop. "Kind of, no, and yes--I check the weather station."

"Huh." Emily scrunched up her face, another question brewing. "So how does this psychic-ness work?"

You took a deep breath before starting. "I can just read you. Yes, like a profiler reads you, but also more than that. Profilers can only see the outside, but I can see the inside as well."

"Prove it." Derek crossed his arms. "Inside profile me."

Now that was a choice of words.

You held a finger up. "I will only if you promise to never say that phrase to me again."

He looked to Prentiss before a smile broke out. "Looks like they've got jokes, too."

A quiet laugh escaped you before continuing. "That I do. What do you want to know, Morgan?"

"My deepest-darkest secret." He said it in a joking manner, but you shook your head none the same.

"You don't want me to share that."

"I guess I don't. What do you really have for me, though?"

You took a second to really look at him, to see what he was hiding behind that smile--you were going to keep it light of course. You could look farther if you wanted, but the farther back you went the vaguer your readings were. "When were you going to tell everyone that you like Britney Spears?"

And just like that, you knew the two of them believed you now. Because the price on Derek Morgan's face was one that you wish you had a photo of. Emily's jaw dropped, eyes widening. "You refused to listen to her with me last week, traitor!"

Derek's mouth was also agape--he was flabbergasted. Eyebrows raised, he shook his head. "Fine, I believe you. Say no more. Please." His reaction made you chuckle, and it was all fun and games until Reid strode over, taking the seat next to you.

"You know, almost every public claiming psychic is usually a scammer or a fake. In fact--"

A groan escaped you. "Seriously? This again?"

"Yes! It was an incredibly irrational choice on Gideon to--"

The upbeat mood quickly dissipated, your temper going along with it. "Listen Reid, I don't need to explain myself to you. But, out of the kindness of my heart, I'm going to say this once." Emily and Derek''s eyes were bouncing between the two of you. "I don't announce it publicly, hence why "that is"psychic" is not my legal title. Second, I'm good at what I do, that's why I'm here. Believe me or not, but I can see right through you and your defenses."

The air took a tone that you didn't quite appreciate now, but he started this.

"You don't know a thing about me, in-in fact you don't know a thing about anyone, much less who I am." Annoyance was seeping through his words, and you were getting tired of his passive-aggressiveness. "You show up here being a so-called 'psychic'," his fingers went into air quotes at your title. "Yet you haven't done anything besides getting a confession out of one individual? Sounds like someone doesn't know how to handle being around actual profilers."

You wanted to slap the guy. But here you were again, taking the high road. "I'm too tired for this. If you want to doubt what I can do, fine. It's nothing I haven't dealt with before." You clenched your jaw and took a couple deep breaths to control your oncoming frustration. The conversation was over now, there was nothing left for him to say. How dare he insult your profiling skills too? How dare he--

"How have you been able to get this far lying?"

It was the straw on the camel's back, that line. He wouldn't drop it, and now he was going to face the consequences. You inched your head slowly to face his own, steadying your breaths even more, so you could make sure your words wouldn't get you fired this early on.

You looked into his eyes, really looking into him. The emotions he gave off, the way he held himself, his aura. If he was going to bash you for days in hopes of getting a response, he won. He was probably expecting you to give a grandiose speech on how you don't know what you're doing or how you just have really lucky guesses, but if there was one thing that you learned from people like him, it was that if they keep striking low, you strike lower.

Screw the high road, screw him undermining your talent, and screw people like him that thought they could get away with thinking their actions didn't have consequences.

You really saw him then, squinting slightly as you looked him up and down in the seat, the team around you remaining quiet as to remain listening to the rising tif. You could see right through him, see that he had some real parental issues, but had a overshadowing amount of loneliness surrounding his self, his mind, his body. It was vague, but it was there, and there is all you needed.

You leaned back as if to get comfortable, maintaining your eye contact. "When was the last time someone you cared about actually stayed in your life, Spencer?" You spoke nonchalantly, like you were discussing the weather.

You could feel the tangible tension that thrummed through the air from the two across from you at your words, and you knew you hit home. As to solidify your unanswered question, you saw a tiny twitch in his eyelid that responded more than any words could.

"Um Morgan? I think JJ called our names. We should go." Emily nudged the man and nodded to the back of the jet.

"What? No one has said anything. You're losing it, Prentiss."

"Derek, we're going." Her eyes went between you and Spencer to drive the point, and he finally picked it up after a second.

"Oh. Oh. Yeah, yeah I agree. JJ?" He called out. "We're coming!"

It was just the two of you now.

He broke eye contact with you after your words, and you moved in towards him as you lowered your voice to a whisper. "I see you for your inner workings, Reid. There's a reason I am good at what I do, and it is because I see you for how you see yourself. You do not want to make an enemy out of me."

His voice was caught in his throat for a second, mouth dropping slightly. He cleared his throat momentarily. "Are you threatening me?" Clear avoidance of your statement.

"No, Reid, I'm offering an olive branch. I suggest you take it." His silence prompted you further. "Besides your consistent digs at me, you're really good at what you do. Your brain quite literally runs a mile a minute, and my brain can see that. I am trying my best to chalk this all up to me being new, but I am really not appreciating all of this heat, it is extremely frustrating. You have your methods, I have mine. I'll give you some time to decide whether to accept this olive branch or not, but we would offer this team much more if you used those smarts of yours alongside mine, not against." Your chest was heaving slightly as the fire in your eyes blazed, but he finally got the message. "This will be the only time I'm offering this up." You turned away from him, needing a break.

You heard him shuffle and leave the seat next to you as you watched the clouds whiz by in the jet. It really sucked that he was cute too. All the adorable ones had to get you riled up, didn't they?

You felt a brief weight lift off of your shoulders as you heard Gideon speak to everyone on the plane about having the weekend off. Thank goodness.

That Monday you waltzed into the bullpen, a nice pep to your step after a break from everything. Iced drink in your hand, you set down your bag as you prepped yourself for the onslaught of paperwork awaiting you.

You had just gotten comfortable when you felt a tap on your shoulder and a familiar clear of a throat.

You swiveled in your chair, facing the tall man. "'Yes?"

"The oldest olive tree is known to be anywhere between two thousand to four thousand years old, but the specific age is currently being studied."

You took a sip of your drink as you looked up at him in confusion. "Good morning to you as well?"

He clenched his jaw quickly before continuing. "I''m saying yes. I accept the branch. It doesn't make sense to me and you infuriate me a little bit, but I want to work on it."

For the first time, but certainly not the last, you genuinely smiled at him.

And maybe he was losing all touches with reality, because he could feel his heart skip.

taglist: @alllriseabove @kitty-kei

#psych you out in the end #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #bau #criminal minds x reader #gender neutral reader #criminal minds fanfiction

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courtofparrots · 3 months

Text

Luis Serra and his use of false bravado

I'm writing a fic right now that requires a pretty in-depth character analysis of Luis, and I wanted to talk about one of my favorite things about him, which is his use of false bravado to get out of sticky situations, and the expressiveness he displays in the moments in between.

We talk a lot about Leon's micro-expressions when he's trying to hide his feelings, which don't get me wrong, I LOVE to analyze, but Luis has such telling expressions as well, and we should talk about it! (I also saw some gifs of Luis's expressions being modded onto Leon and THAT got attention but... neither here nor there).

To me, it always looks like he's using an almost silly amount of swagger when he interacts with others to portray his confidence, and he barely ever lets that wall down. Unlike Leon and Ada, he's a civilian, but he jokes around and flirts every time he's in front of them, despite being in situations where he really should be behaving more like Ashley, like when he narrowly avoided being tortured to death and he's just like "nice, cigs"

We as the audience are only privy to his mask slips in 3 different types of situations, as far as I can tell:

When he feels like his luck is about to run out: he goes from acting confident to suddenly displaying a lot of fear on his face, while he wildly casts around for something to say to help him out. In both of these instances, he completely regains his bravado once he thinks he's safe again, i.e. when Ada saves him from the torturers, or when he realizes Ada knows who Leon is. This is also just kind of adorable. Watch the way his face falls when he realizes Ada is mad, and then the way he flounders when she points her gun at him.

2. When no one else is looking: This one stood out to me from the very beginning because he's actually still speaking with confidence as he explains that the plaga can be removed, but Leon and Ashley can't see his face, where he's clearly showing his trepidation, his guilt about them being infected, etc. and then notice how he goes right back to smiling and confident when he turns around to face them again.

3. When he feels concern for others: Luis is an extremely caring person, and one of the most common moments where he lets his mask slip is when someone else is in danger. Obviously the first thing that comes to mind is his reaction to the medicine being destroyed, but I also want to draw attention to the look on his face when Ada is in danger and she tells him to leave her. And I know I included him looking away from Leon and Mendez in a previous post but here's a higher quality gif so you can really get your heart broken by how scared he looks:

Anyways, I just love the little things that make up characters in this game. I also have analyses about Ada and Ashley that you'll probably get whether you want it or not because I love them, and their characterizations are so interesting.

#luis serra #resident evil #re4 remake #ada wong #leon s kennedy

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plentyoffandoms · 6 days

Note

Hello.

Can I please request something for lord Debling. He finds a wife who also wants a practical marriage, she was in love once but had her heart broken so now she's just looking for practicality as she doesn't want to be feel that pain again. Once married they make a deal that once she is definitely pregnant, that he can leave on his 3 year expedition and even add the lost time that it took to get pregnant as he was supposed to leave right after the wedding (like in the show). But he comes back after a month cause he missed her and realized he might be in love. She's still sceptical but with the birth of their son things might change her heart .

Just really fluffy and tooth roting sweet.

Debling really deserves more love I felt so bad for him in the show 😢

I Fell in Love

Lord Debling x f/Reader

Main Masterlist ♡ Bridgerton Masterlist

Just like all my other stories, this has not been proofread, but please enjoy.

Gifs and photos do not belong to me. 1st gif @yeahskam 2nd gif @farosdaughter 3rd gif @orion-lake

Warnings. None

Requested by anonymous. I hope you like it. I agree, he most certainly deserves more love than he got on the show.

WC: 1873

I knew this marriage to Lord Debling was a good match for him and I.

We both were looking for a practical marriage, as he wished to travel and I wished to stay home with the children.

When he proposed to me, I knew that he would be the husband for me, as I was not looking for love.

I thought I found love when I was first looking for a husband. I fell in love with someone whom I grew up with.

Our mothers would talk about our wedding, and how we would have such beautiful babies, and that we were meant to be.

I still remember hearing his mother's words clear as day. "Falling in love is the greatest gift of all."

I completely agreed with her until he came over to tell me that he was breaking off our engagement.

I was left shattered as he told me he had found someone else to marry. By the look on his face and how he talked about her, I knew that he was in love.

He walked out of my home and my life, married her, and now lives not far from me.

I had to watch them be as happy as I thought him and I once were, and the moment I found out she was with child, well, I shut down.

My cousin Penelope is the one who brought my attention to Lord Debling.

At her wedding to Colin Bridgerton, I was sitting at the table by myself, not interested in standing off to the side with the other single woman, or standing there with my mother and her sister, my aunt Portia Featherington as they gossiped.

As Penelope sat down next to me, I gave her a fake smile, but she could always see right through me. She placed a gentle hand atop of mine and squeezed my hand.

"I know of one man, if you are interested." I cut her off, "I am not looking for love right now, Penelope."

"He isn't either. You must have heard of Lord Debling."

"I have."

She told me all about him. How he wanted to travel, and that after his wedding, he will be gone for three years. That his wife will be at home, tending to her duties.

"I will meet him for you, dear cousin."

Penelope smiled and clapped her hands, drawing attention to the two of us. As she basked in the attention, I tried to hide away, as I was sick of the pitying looks I got.

◆

Lord Debling and I met, and he told me what he what he was looking for in a wife.

"By no means am I looking for love. I just wish to have a friend to come home too," and that sealed the deal for me.

He courted me only for a short time, and my marriage to him is happening tomorrow. I am happy that I will not grow old alone and just like he wanted, I am glad to have found a friend along the way.

LORD DEBLINGS POV:

Her and I were dancing, all eyes on the two of us, and she gave me a soft smile as she looked at me. I gave her a soft one back.

"I shall leave once you are with child." I told her.

"But your trip, my Lord."

"Please call me Alfred. We are married now."

"Well, Alfred, your trip."

"I will go once you are with child, and if you do not mind me adding on how many months it will take for you to be with child."

"I do not mind at all, but I do not wish for you to hate me because you are postponing your trip."

I stopped the two of us dancing, and I stared her right in her eyes.

"Nothing you could ever do shall make me hate you."

I was very serious about that.

◆

Seven months.

That is how long it took her to be with child.

During that time, we got to know each other better than I thought we would. I learned her hobbies, her favourite books, what made her happy.

Once I found out what her favourite flower was, I made sure to have a fresh bouquet brought to her bedchamber once a week.

It always warmed my heart to see her smelling the flowers. How her eyes seemed to light up when she would thank me for them.

Even though I have no interest in decorating our Manor, she made sure to include my input in each room. "You live here too, Alfred, even though you will be gone for three years. This is still your home."

I never thought of it like that. I just didn't care how my home was decorated, but she took great pride in it.

As each room was completed, she would show me, and I was stunned at how she did make sure to include what I would mention.

It didn't matter if it was the colour of the furniture, a painting I mentioned I wanted hung up in said room, or just a piece of furniture. It was there.

I did not realise it at the time that I was slowly falling in love with the woman whom I had married.

◆

She was standing next to me, as I was leaving in a few moments. I placed my hands on the small bump, wondering what our child would look like.

"You come back to me, Alfred." She softly said.

"Nothing will keep me from you and our little one."

I cupped her cheek, and her head turned to kiss my gloved palm.

I kissed her forehead, and I could see the sadness in her eyes as she closed them. It looked like she was fighting back tears.

"It is time, my Lord." I toon a step away from her, my hands leaving her her body, and her own hands went on her stomach.

I got in the carriage, fighting the urge to look out the window, as I knew I would stop and go back to her, making up some excuse about not wanting to be away from her.

◆

I have been gone for only three weeks, and I wake up every morning thinking about her. If she liked the flowers that are still placed in her room.

If she has enjoyed the gifts that I have sent home, or if she has got them yet.

If she has kept busy without me there.

If she misses me like I miss her.

The last thought made my stomach twist, and I pushed that feeling back, thinking about this trip I am on. This adventure I have waited so long for.

But I knew my heart wasn't in it anymore.

And I fought with myself each and every day until I finally declared that I was going home.

That I needed to be with my wife and unborn child.

I had to tell her that I have fallen in love with her.

◆

My staff were stunned to see me come running up the front steps in the middle of the night. I had a rider go ahead and warn them I was coming.

"Lord Debling, we were not expecting you. Is everything all right?" My friend and butler, Jonathan said to me, as I looked around my front foyer.

"I must see my wife."

"Lady Debling is fast asleep." He said as I ran up the stairs, on my way to her room.

"I must see her." I became almost frantic the closer I got to her door.

Just as I was about to knock on the door, it opened, and there she was, tired and angry at all the commotion. She was about to ask what was going on when she saw me standing in front of her.

She looked me up and down. "Alfred?"

She reached out to touch me to see if I was really here or a figment of her imagination, "I am really here."

"Why are you home? Is everything okay? Did something happen?" The questions were just flying from her lips.

"I would like to be alone with my wife." Our staff left us alone as I walked into her bedchamber, and she closed the door behind her.

"Alfred."

"I am okay, I just needed to come home to you."

"Alfred, I am okay. The baby is okay. I am due any day now." She said as she sat on the edge of her bed, and I sat down next to her.

"I know, but while I was away, I couldn't fight my feelings anymore."

"Feelings?"

"Before I left, I was falling in love with you."

"This is not how this marriage is." She stood up, her hand on her lower back as she walked to be closer to the fire.

"I know, and at first I was happy just to have a friend to come home too, but I got to know you, really know you, and even though I tried to fight it, I fell for you."

"I have been in love before, and he broke my heart, and my soul." I got up and grasped her hands in mine.

"I know, and I promise to never do that to you."

I placed her hand over my heart. "Do you feel that? My heart only beats for you. I am not asking for you to tell me you love me right now, but I want you to know that I love you, and no other person with ever take me away from you, my Lady Debling."

◆

"Shhhh, my little Theodore. You are safe now." I looked down at our baby, who was cooing at me. She was in labour far longer than I knew a woman could be in labour for.

She was being tended to by the midwives and the doctor. I refused to leave her side, but when she screamed for me to get out, I listened to her.

When her water broke, I called on her cousin Penelope to come and be with her, knowing she would not want me in the room with her.

Colin came, and him and I have long put aside our animosity towards one another.

Once Penelope came out, carrying little Theodore, Colin congratulated me. "How is she?" I asked Penelope.

"She is doing well. She is being cleaned up, and then you will be called upon."

The both of them left, as I sat there waiting to be allowed in to see my wife.

Once I was allowed in, I placed Theodore on her chest, and she kissed the top of his head, his hair colour matching hers.

"He is just perfect, darling. I am so proud of you." I kissed the top of her forehead, and she looked up at me and gave me a tired smile.

"Alfred, I should have told you this before, but I love you."

I kissed her with as much passion as I could muster.

"I love you forever and always, my darling lady."

Tag list: @madhatterbri

149 notes · View notes

annwrites · 1 month

Text

exactly what he needs, pt. 3 ♡ ⋆｡˚ | pt1 | pt 2 | pt 4

— pairing: nate jacobs x fem!reader

— type: ficlet (multi-chapter)

— summary: nate takes you shopping at the mall, to dinner, then bowling, before dropping you off at home.

— tags: having a great day with nate, even if he has ulterior motives

— tw: dollification, objectification, sexualization, emotional manipulation, pushing boundaries, guilt-tripping, drinking, eating

— word count: approx. 6.4k

— a/n: i have never been inside a nordstrom in my life, so i have 0 idea what their changing rooms actually look like. | baby-doll dresses | tennis skirt | blush | necklace

GIF by msgorillagripcoochie

Once you and Nate are on the road, he decides to offer you full access to his car's stereo once again—he has an aux cord stored away in the center console, which he'll only offer if you can't figure out how to pair your phone through bluetooth.

There's just something about the idea of his truck being saved in your phone that appeals to him. Hell, maybe he'll get lucky and you'll fuck up, letting it read your calls and texts, too. He wouldn't mind finding out who all you're talking to.

If he's lucky, it'll be people he knows. People he can spin stories to you about to get you to cut them out of your life.

He'd made the mistake with Maddy in letting her have friends. Like Cassie—he didn't need to list the problems she'd caused. Then there was Kat, always her enabling little sidekick. Even Lexi to an extent, who he knows you're also friends with. He supposes as far as female friends to have goes, Lexi is the better one to keep company with, but she's still Cassie's sister.

He knows he'll, in time, need to figure out a way to get rid of her. But that's a problem for future him.

"Would you like to play some music?"

You smooth out the skirt of your dress. "Sure. Do you have a uh-"

"It has bluetooth."

"Oh."

Great, you think, I get to spend the next fifteen minutes looking like an idiot as I fight to get the thing to pair with my cell.

Surprisingly, however, you get it to sync up rather quickly. You scan through your music, now sweating, wondering what song to choose. What if he thinks your taste in music is stupid? Then, you mentally shrug. He can take over at that point if he thinks so.

Eventually, a soft melody begins to drift through the cabin, low enough that it serves simply as pleasant background noise, until Nate reaches over, turning the volume up, making you shrink back in your seat.

You turn the room a shade heaven, and learn my name.

You flush. You shouldn't have chosen a stupid romantic song. You should've chosen anything else.

You look out the window, refusing to sing along like you normally would as the chorus starts.

No one ever will love me better than your everlasting love. I found only one way in and no way out...

You fold your hands in your lap, waiting for the damn song to eventually end.

Finally, once the tempo has faded, Nate turns the radio down.

"Is that one of your favorite songs?"

You glance at him, nodding.

He can tell you're embarrassed, but can't understand why. He thinks it sweet: one of your favorite songs being one about love.

He then wonders if you sing. Perhaps, if so, you'll do so once you're more comfortable being around him like this.

"I liked it."

"Oh, good," you say, still flushed.

He likes how easily he has that effect on you.

"So, where are you wanting to head to?"

You shrug, fumbling with your phone and turning some lofi music on instead now. Nothing with lyrics.

"Wherever you want to go is fine with me."

He likes that: you letting him choose for you. Letting him make a decision for the both of you.

He enjoys how easily agreeable you are today.

He hopes it's due to you feeling comfortable enough with him that you trust him to do so.

"Do you want to eat first, or would you like to go to the mall for a bit?"

You glance at the clock and see that it's only a few minutes past four. "I can wait a couple more hours to eat."

He nods, heading in the direction of the East Highland mall.

Once Nate has parked, he comes around to your side and you nearly slip on the running board, falling against his chest.

He catches you, helping you down.

You look up at him, your face a shade of red. "Sorry. Thanks."

Stupid klutz—should've worn boots, you think.

He shuts the door behind you, quickly locking the vehicle before placing his hand against the small of your back. "No problem."

As you enter the mall, a pair of men leave, glancing at you. Admiring you, from Nate's perspective.

His grip tightens imperceptibly, pulling you the least bit closer to him as he gives the men a nasty look.

Meanwhile, you're oblivious, instead overwhelmed by the sights and sounds and smells, the awful florescent lighting overhead. God, you hate crowds.

You look up to him, just wanting him to pick a store to get you out of the way of everyone milling about. Coming here on a Friday afternoon was a bad idea.

He looks down at you. "Where to first?"

He can see that you're nervous. His brows furrow. "Do crowds make you uneasy?"

You nod, your eyes staring into his, practically screaming for him to get you out of here.

He lets his hand drop to his side, then speaks again. "Do you want to hold my hand?"

You blanch.

Having something—someone—to ground you and lead you through the throngs of people surrounding you sounds nice enough, but what if someone from school is here and sees you? And won't it seem a bit childish? That you're that easily overstimulated that you have to hold another grown-person's hand in a shopping mall?

Just as you're about to tell him no—that you're ok—someone bumps into you, shoving you into his side.

Your hand quickly latches onto his.

Nate twines his fingers between yours.

You don't see the smirk on his face.

Nate leads you into Nordstrom, a store you've never been in before because you know it's far, far out of your price-range, but you don't object as you step inside, the crowds behind you fading away as quiet pop music plays overhead, only a handful of people browsing the racks of clothing.

You look up to him, suddenly unsure of yourself.

"You can look around, if you want."

You release his hand and he already hates the feeling of his palm being empty.

You step over to a rack of midi dresses and your eyes widen when you see a price tag for $120.

Nate keeps close to your side. "Do you like that one?"

He knows he doesn't—hates midi and maxi dresses—but he wants to buy you something today. Anything. He just wants to give you your first real present from him.

He doesn't count him bringing you breakfast everyday for the last week—despite your objections, even if you did always finish it with a grateful 'thank you'—as as much.

You place the dress back where it was hanging, shaking your head. You look up to him. "That dress it over one-hundred dollars. Nate, I can't afford to shop here."

Not unless they have a clearance section, you think. But even then...

Nate steps away from you for a moment, his attention now stolen away by a white babydoll dress with puffy sleeves. Fucking perfect, he thinks.

He grabs it off the high hook which it hangs from—something you'd never be able to reach—and goes to hand it to you.

"Try this on."

You hesitantly take it from him, a confused expression on your face. "Why?"

He shrugs. "I just think it'd look nice on you."

You hold it up to yourself, not liking that it comes up well-above your knees.

"I don't thi-"

"The changing rooms are this way," he says, nodding his head in the direction of the back of the store. He doesn't care to hear you argue. You're trying the dress on. He needs to see it on you.

He'd been picturing you wearing—essentially—that exact dress for over a week now.

He places his palm against your back, leading you to the desired destination.

Once you've reached the back of the store, Nate opens a wooden door to one of the changing areas and just stares at you, waiting for you to enter.

Finally, you sigh, stepping in.

"I'll be waiting right out here," he says before closing the door behind you.

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a moment, realizing just how different—how little—you look like yourself right now. But you consider it, perhaps, a good thing: forcing yourself out of your comfort zone, even just a little.

You'd been considering finally wearing the sundress that Nate had picked out for you for a few weeks now. It was nice of him to compliment it—you. You aren't entirely sure how you feel about your hair being down, however.

Finally, you hang the dress up that he'd handed you, deciding to get undressed. The sooner you've tried it on, the sooner you can be out of this over-priced boutique.

Nate sits in a chair directly outside of your changing room, watching your legs shift from one foot to the other, until, finally, your sundress pools at your feet.

His cock hardens, knowing just a few feet away is your half-naked body. He leans back, waiting a minute, then two, then he stands.

He gently knocks on the door and you jolt in surprise.

"Y-yes?"

"Do you have it on?"

"Yes..."

"May I come in? I'd like to see."

You balk. He wants to come into the changing room with you? Is that even allowed?

"Isn't that against some sort of policy?"

He likes how much of a good girl you are—no, fuck it, loves it—but in this moment his patience is wearing real fucking thin. "No one else is out here," he replies as gently as he can.

A beat of silence, and then the lock on the door handle clicks.

He quickly enters the changing room, promptly taking in every inch of you.

You look just how he had imagined you would.

You don't meet his eyes. "I look so stu-"

"Perfect," he interrupts.

You look up to him. "What? Really?"

He studies you for a moment, your wide innocent eyes staring up at him, waiting for him to answer.

He runs his fingers through the hair draped over your shoulder. He then runs his hand along that same shoulder down your upper arm, where it comes to rest. "Yes. I just wish you could see what I do."

You blink up at him, then sniffle.

"Are you crying?" He nearly cringes. That question had come out a bit more harsh than he'd meant for it to. He'd wanted you emotionally vulnerable numerous times for the last week so he could finally find a way in, and now here it is. He prays he didn't just fuck it up.

You nod. "I'm sorry. I'm just...no one has ever been this nice to me."

He almost breathes a sigh of relief. He hadn't hurt your feelings.

So that's all it's going to take with you: a few kind gestures, some nice words, a few soft touches, and you'd be like putty in his hands. His to mold as he pleases.

This was what being alone for so long had done to you: made you desperate for affection—of any kind.

You step a bit closer to him, unsure of yourself, unsure what you're doing or even why.

When he doesn't move, you press yourself against his broad chest, taking him completely by surprise.

Fine with being alone his ass. That entire statement had been utter bullshit. Not even you understand just how lonely you are.

Finally, he wraps one arm around you, holding you close, his other hand slipping into your hair, massaging your scalp.

You remain quiet, just focusing on his breathing, the beat of his heart, his warmth. When was the last time someone had held you like this? Hugged you? Shown you any form of affection or attention?

You'd truly thought you were fine without it.

Meanwhile, Nate's head is racing. God, you'd shown him just in this action alone just how easy it was going to be to manipulate you. A couple of compliments had nearly brought you to tears? Just wait until the two of you are in a relationship. No, starting tonight he'll begin pouring it on heavier.

But once you two are together? He'll fucking suffocate you with gifts and attention and love. And above all: sex. That will be his weapon. You're inexperienced. Know nothing about it. A few orgasm denials and Lexi will be long-gone from your life.

Then he'll no longer have to worry about the risk of her relaying stories of he and Cassie, or he and Maddy to you. Won't have to worry about his occasional shitty behavior toward them coming to light, driving—no, taking—you away from him.

If you ever find out about the choking incident...it'll be over before it ever begins.

He feels you snuggle the least bit closer to him and he briefly glances to the mirror to the side of both of you. He sees that your eyes are closed and your cheeks are flushed.

Finally, he pulls away and you look up at him, shame filling your features. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that. I-"

He gently grips your chin. "I didn't mind."

"Oh." It's the only reply you have. It feels inappropriate—being here with him like this. You're in a changing room together, for God's sake. You'd tutored numerous people before and never had you ever spent any amount of time with any of them outside of school.

But Nate is different. You tutor him in private, whereas all the rest had been at school or in public. There'd never been a chance at friendship with any of them. You'd convinced yourself that it was something you didn't need in the first place anyway. Told yourself you were better off alone.

High school is temporary, along with the friends that come with it. No point in getting attached to someone who won't be sticking around.

You know all too well about abandonment.

Nate will probably be just like all the rest.

You take a step back. "I should probably change."

"I never got to see the whole dress. Can you turn for me?"

You pause. "Like... Twirl?"

He crosses his arms, just staring at you.

Finally, you begin to slowly turn until you're facing him once again. "Ta-da,"you say nervously.

He turns toward the door, placing his hand over the handle. "It looks really cute on you, just so you know."

While you're busy changing, Nate quickly returns to the rack from earlier, grabbing the same dress you were currently taking off, along with another one, but in light blue. He then spots a pink tennis skirt and grabs it as well, with a matching flowy top. He takes all the items up front, to a register.

When you exit the changing room, you see Nate straight ahead, standing just outside the store.

You come up to him, glancing down to the shopping bag in his hand, then up to him with a concerned expression. Surely he didn't...

He shrugs. "Just something for my mom."

You smile, feeling relieved. "That's very sweet of you, to get something for her."

He just offers you his hand again, which you take after a moment.

As the two of you wander around, mostly window-shopping, you try to ignore just how nice it feels to be holding someone else's hand. To be touched at all. You briefly wonder if he thinks you pathetic now, after what happened in the changing room.

You glance up to him. "Nate?"

"Hm?"

"You're sure it didn't bother you?"

He doesn't need you to elaborate to know what you're referring to. He likes that you're insecure and emotionally fragile. Broken pieces in the palms of his hands.

That had been another issue with Maddy—she'd been too independent, too confident, too secure and comfortable with herself. Whereas Cassie had known what he wanted and had tried to mold herself into it, all in some attempt to keep him interested.

But you? You're clueless to the ways of men. You're just...you. Intelligent, but only in a book-smart sort of way. Sweet—so fucking sweet it makes his teeth ache. Quiet, and reserved—prim and proper and meek.

And he'd thought it before and would again—so. fucking. innocent. You have no idea the power you already have over him. And he wants it to stay that way. Wants to be the one in complete control this time around, without being given permission to be, like Cassie had given him.

She'd told him what she had wanted: him to choose her clothes, what she eats, to decide who she could talk to—the list went on and on. Because she had clocked him from day one—the type of guy he was—that he was desperate for control.

With you, it will be gradual, insidious manipulation until he's all you have left in your life to turn to. Until, one day, you look up, and everything is different and you have no goddamn idea how you've gotten to where you are.

He stops walking, still keeping your hand firmly in his, incase you decide to wander. "Not at all."

"I don't..." you shift nervously. "I don't know what happened. I'm not usually like that. I don't get emotional in front of other people, like, ever."

He gives you a kind smile. "It's ok, really. I just don't think you're used to it."

"What?"

"Kindness. Someone wanting to give you their attention and time. You don't have to worry, I still like hanging out with you."

You look down and he gives your hand a gentle squeeze.

"Good," you reply.

The two of you stop in at Sephora, and while you browse their lipglosses, Nate steps away, looking through their selection of blushes, until he finds a soft pink shade that he likes and he takes it up, quickly paying for it, and placing the small bag within the larger Nordstrom one. One more gift for you.

When you leave the cosmetic store, you excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes into the Tiffany store next door, browsing their necklace collection, until he spots one that he deems perfect for you: silver, with a small diamond pendant hanging from it. He doesn't even bother looking at the price tag when he asks an employee to retrieve the item from a glass case and box it up for him.

He's waiting for you when you exit the restroom.

He takes your hand in his, not bothering to let you make the gesture this time.

"Hungry?"

You nod.

Nate, though he doesn't want to, bothers with asking where you'd like to go to eat as he watches you buckle yourself in—wishing you'd let him do that himself, but knows him taking such an extreme measure for your safety this early will do nothing more than freak you out.

You shrug. "I don't go out much, so I'm not sure what all is around here. You can choose, if you'd like?"

He smiles, unsure the last time he felt so happy and in-control as he shuts your door.

Nate takes you to a rather expensive bistro, perhaps twenty minutes away from the mall, his right hand itching to wedge itself between your bare thighs as he drives, but he doesn't dare touch you. Not yet. The only thing he has to keep himself in-check right now is the surety that, soon enough, you'll be all his to do with as he pleases.

Every inch of you.

When Nate comes around to your side of the truck, after he's opened your door, he takes things a step further this time, gripping both of your hips, helping you down. As he sets you on your feet again, before you can say a word, he speaks. "Didn't want to risk you tripping again."

He adjusts your dress and your hair, then takes your hand firmly in his as he leads the two of you inside.

You immediately feel regret in him bringing you here. You should've told him literally anywhere else, so long as it was cheaper.

The rustic décor alone screams pretentious. And you know the menu will be even worse.

But just as you think to tug on his arm and ask him to take you elsewhere, a hostess greets the two of you, leading you to a table in a corner near a window.

Nate pulls out your seat for you, scooting you in, then seating himself.

You both pick up menus, and you're thankful your face is hidden by yours when you see the outrageous pricing.

You can barely afford a small salad here.

"Have you been here before?" You ask, still hidden by your menu.

"Mhm, their food is pretty good. I thought you might like it."

Unless it's dipped in gold, it can't be worth what they're charging is what you want to say. Instead, you remain silent.

Finally, your server arrives. An older woman, with red curly hair, freckles, and a curvaceous figure greets the two of you with a smile. "Do you two know what you'd like to drink?"

Nate looks at you.

"Water, thank you."

She nods.

"It'll be one check, and a diet coke."

She nods again, leaving the two of you to each other.

You look at him, now panicking...just a bit. "You don't have to pay for me. It's fine, really, I-"

He lifts his menu, glad that it apparently works in getting you to be quiet about his spending money on you. Again.

You'd already freaked out enough over him bringing you breakfast for three days in a row, until the fourth when you finally ate in silence.

"I told you I was taking you to dinner. It was my idea to bring you here, so it's only fair that I pay."

You cross your legs at the ankle, unsure how to feel about that.

You simply lift your menu again, now even more unsure of what to get.

He sets his menu down, seeing that you're now hidden behind your own once again. "I know their choices can seem a bit overwhelming the first time you come here. Would you like me to order for you?"

You lower your menu. "You're sure?"

He gives a slight nod of confirmation.

It's then that your waitress returns with your drinks and you stay silent, sipping on ice water as Nate orders dinner for both of you.

As you wait for your penne alla vodka—all you know is that it's some sort of pasta—Nate stretches out his long legs under the table on either side of your chair.

"I've had a really nice time with you today," he says, a soft look in his eyes.

You wrap your sweaty hands around your cold glass. You smile. "Me too."

He crooks his head slightly to the side. "Would you like to go bowling after this?"

Your brows raise. "You want to?"

He nods. "I do if you do."

You glance out the window for a moment. "I'm not sure the last time I went bowling. I think when I was really little."

He leans forward, foot brushing against one of yours completely on purpose, so as to pull your attention back to him. "So is that a yes?"

You blush. "I guess so."

Nate glances up to you every few moments from his steak and rice, watching as you take small bites of your pasta.

"Do you like it?"

You quickly grab your napkin, wiping your lips. You nod, swallowing. "It's really good. You chose well for me. Thank you."

He smiles, his foot "accidentally" brushing against your leg again. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

You grow quiet again at the pet name, taking another bite of your meal.

Once the two of you have finished your dinner, Nate pays the check from his phone before standing, throwing two twenty-dollar bills on the table—you're impressed that he tips so generously—then pulling your chair out for you.

He twines his fingers between yours before leading you back out to the truck.

Once Nate has paid for a game of bowling for the two of you, you both go to your designated spot. You sit to put on the pair of hideous bowling shoes you've been given, until Nate sits on the small table in front of you, grabbing your foot and resting it atop his knee as he slips the shoe on your foot, tying the laces.

You laugh nervously. "I can do that."

He merely glances up to you, before doing the same with your other foot.

Once you feel well and truly like you have on a pair of clown shoes, you go first...and miss every single pin.

Nate stands behind you laughing. "It was a good try."

He'd not actually bothered watching you play, he'd instead watched as you'd bended over slightly, getting a brief flash of your pink panties before you released the heavy bowling ball.

You go to sit down. "Shut up," you say, clearly embarrassed.

Nate goes next...and of course gets a strike on the first try.

You tell yourself not to pout; that you're not a competitive person by nature.

"I'm just rusty is all."

"Mhm," he replies with a knowing smirk before leaning down, hands planted on either side of you. "I'm going to get a drink. Want anything?"

You glance behind you at the concessions, looking over their menu. Meanwhile, Nate looks you over. Your neck, which he wants to lick and kiss and leave hickies all over to mark you as his. Then down your dress at the swell of your breasts...which he wants to do the same to. Then your thighs that he wants to shove his face between.

When you finally look back at him, you jump, seeing that he's still looking right at you. "Oh, uh, maybe just a water?"

He reaches up, brushing some hair out of your face. "Not hungry?"

You shake your head. "I'm still full from dinner."

Right. Dinner.

"I thought at least some cotton candy," he replies, before walking away.

You're left sitting there, wondering what that was supposed to have meant.

When Nate returns, it's with two Budweisers and a bottle of water, which he hands to you.

You stare at the extra bottle he sets on the table as he twists the top off of the other one, taking a swig of it.

"Is that smart?"

He looks at you with a raised brow. "Hm?"

"Drinking...since you're driving?"

He smirks. "It takes a lot more than two beers to get me drunk, Y/N. But if it makes you that uncomfortable, you can always drive us back."

He's not sure how he feels about letting you drive his truck, in truth. He'd never let Maddy, and sure as hell not Cassie behind the wheel. He was more-so offering to see if you'd let on whether you know how to drive or not.

And he gets his answer, just like he was wanting.

"I...I don't know how."

He sits on the same table from earlier, your legs between both of his knees.

"Not at all?"

You shake your head, feeling a bit ashamed of the admittance. "No one has ever exactly been around to teach me."

You're no longer looking at him now, so you don't see the frown on his lips.

"I could teach you."

Your head jerks up. "That's probably not a good idea."

He takes another sip of his beer. "Why not?"

"What if...what if I hit something with your truck, or damage it?"

"I have insurance."

You nearly roll your eyes. "Ok, what if I hit a person?"

He notices your lip twitch, trying to fight a smile.

He grins. "It has a big bed."

You laugh and so does he. God, being with you is so easy.

He holds out the bottle to you. "Do you want a drink?"

You consider it for a moment, then of course shake your head. "No, thank you."

"Have you ever even drank before?"

You don't want to give him the answer to that either. "No."

"Really?" He asks, a bit of surprise to his tone—even if he isn't actually surprised at all. If it's 'bad' for you, he's sure you've never done it before.

You nod, feeling like a total fucking square. "How did they even give it to you in the first place?"

He stands, briefly removing his wallet from his back pocket and he hands you his fake ID.

"Oh."

"I can get you one made, if you want?"

You shake your head, handing it back to him. "I'm ok."

He likes you innocent and unknowing, but he isn't used to someone being so...within the lines. He can't tell whether he wants to corrupt you or not. Perhaps he'll just start with doing so in bed and go from there when the time comes.

Once he has you daydreaming about his cock, he'll move onto bigger targets.

He puts his wallet back away, then jerks his head back toward the bowling alley. "Your turn, sweetheart."

Halfway through the game, you get your first strike and you squeal in delight, causing a smile to breakout across Nate's face.

You jump up and down, then run toward him and he catches you in his arms just in time as you wrap your legs around his waist, only spilling a little of his beer. "I did it!"

He laughs, loving seeing you so fucking happy for just one moment.

"I see that, baby."

You're so pleased with yourself that you barely even catch the new term-of-endearment he's given you.

You look down at him, your hair falling over his face as he looks up at you. "Sorry, that was exciting," you say with a laugh.

One arm firmly holds you up, under you bottom, while the other comes up to cup your cheek. "I like seeing you happy like this. You don't smile nearly enough."

He should really make more of an effort to get you drunk before the two of you leave. He has a feeling you're a happy one, and if he's extra lucky—all the alcohol will go straight between your legs.

You beam at him again, trying to prove him wrong, and all he wants is to kiss you until you can't breathe.

Finally, he lowers you back to your feet and you sit, now excited, as he takes his turn again.

You skip through the parking lot, your hand in his, completely elated at having won.

And to your knowledge, it was fair and square.

Even if Nate knows otherwise.

He'd offered to buy another game, but you'd told him you were starting to get tired, so he'd agreed to take you home, even if he wanted to stay out with you all night. Preferably in the back seat of his truck with your clothes off and lying underneath him as he explores your soft, sensitive body.

Instead, you sit in the passenger seat, all smiles and giggles as he drives you back home.

He's in enough of a good mood himself that he turns up the radio, some song with thumping bass coming through the speakers, as he rolls the windows down, the warm summer night air blowing your hair.

Nate, now actually nervous—afraid he's about to ruin everything—reaches over, resting his palm over your bare knee.

You don't push it away. Instead, you simply glance at it for a moment, feeling something...something you're not sure how to describe at the sight of him touching you like that, and then lean back, content to leave his hand right where it is.

And so he does. The entire drive back to your place.

It doesn't matter how desperately he wants to, he doesn't move it any higher.

Once he's pulled into your driveway, he removes his hand, your leg now feeling cold, and kills the engine. You unbuckle yourself and turn toward him. "I know we said it earlier, but I had a really nice time tonight. Thank you, for dinner and bowling and just...today."

He reaches up, running his fingers through your now-tangled hair. "It was my pleasure. Maybe we can do it again sometime?"

You nod, smiling. "I'd like that."

He wants to lean across the console and kiss you, but once again tells himself no. Something he's quickly tiring of having to do.

He glances out the windshield. "I'll walk you to the door."

He retrieves the Nordstrom bag from the backseat before coming around to your side, holding it behind his back as he offers you his hand to help you down.

Nate walks you to your door, watching as you unlock it. He wishes you'd just come back to his house instead, but doesn't dare suggest as much. He'd rather you sleep in his bed with him than stay in this empty house where you're not safe on your own.

Even if he'd made sure you were a couple night this last week when he parked across the street, a couple houses down, pistol in his glovebox. Just incase.

You look up to him with a shy smile. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," he replies, handing you the shopping bag.

Your brows furrow. "I thought this was for your mom?"

He shrugs. "I lied. I wanted to buy you something all day, but knew if I asked, you'd tell me no. This way was easier."

You're not sure how to feel about the fact he'd lied to you so easily. Had made—most likely, if the brand-name on the bag is any indication—a rather expensive purchase for you. You're just not sure why.

Before you can bother asking, he plants a quick kiss to the top of your head. "Hope you like it," he says before heading back to his truck.

Once you're inside and in your room, you immediately start pulling out the contents from the bag and setting them on your bed. Your heartrate only rises with each item. A small bag from Sephora, another one from Tiffany, and four clothing items from Nordstrom—one being the dress he'd asked you to try on.

You feel lightheaded at the price tags on the clothing. But when you look in the Tiffany bag—pull out the jewelry box and open it, you sit down on the edge of your bed.

A diamond necklace.

"Nate..." you whisper to yourself in a panicked voice, wondering what had gotten into him to think that this is ok.

Surely...surely this item is meant for his mom. He'd just accidently thrown it in with everything else.

You pick up your phone with shaking hands, drop it, then pick it back up once again and call him.

"Hey, everything okay? I'm not too far away. I can turn back arou-"

You shake your head, despite the fact he can't see it. "The...the necklace for your mom, you accidentally put it in with-"

"I didn't get it for my mom. Everything there was purchased for you."

You go quiet suddenly, forcing Nate to check that you're even still on the line. He waits for you to respond.

"Nate, I don't know that I feel comfortable with this."

He slams on the brakes, pulling off to the side of the road, throwing the truck in park. "With what?"

"It...it'd be one thing if you'd bought me some cheap keychain or t-shirt or something. But all of this...do I even want to know how much this necklace costs?"

"Probably not," he replies, nonchalantly. Even if he wants to tell you that it was over a grand.

You hang your head, pinching the bridge of your nose. "You don't need to buy me stuff to try and repay me for tutoring you. I do it for free because I like helping people."

"I didn't do it for that."

"Then why?"

How to say, without alarming you: it makes my dick hard spoiling and spending obscene amounts of money on you?

"I just wanted to give you a few nice things. That's all."

"Nate, I don't-"

"Listen, do you want to repay me?"

You go quiet again. Meanwhile, he wants to say, if you say yes: then do it in sexual favors, starting with letting me wrap you hair around my fist as I face-fuck you.

"How?"

"Enjoy it. Wear the white dress and necklace to school on Monday." He wants to throw in the blush, but doesn't, hoping you'll decide to use that all on your own.

You lay back on your bed. "It's all very nice and pretty, and I appreciate it immensely. But-"

"Do you want me to turn around and come get it?" His tone is now the slightest bit annoyed. "If you don't like it, you can tell me. You're not going to hurt my feelings. I'm sorry, I guess I fucked up."

You feel guilty now somehow. Like you're being ungrateful. Even if you hadn't asked for any of it. Maybe...maybe this is what Nate thinks you have to do to make friends: buy their affection?

When you grow up wealthy like he has, you reason, it makes sense.

"No, I'm sorry." Your voice is soft and gentle and feminine now, and he relaxes, his grip on his phone loosening.

You don't even realize it, but his sudden shift in mood had been so imperceptible that it had scared you.

All you do know is that you somehow feel wrong, but you're not sure how, exactly. So, you just brush it off and blame it on being tired. Blame it on anything but him.

"I'm just...I'm not used to people buying me gifts. It's very sweet of you. Thank you," you say as you lightly run your fingers over the soft material of the white dress he wants you to wear in a couple of days.

"You're welcome, sweetheart."

You're not sure how to feel about the pet names, either, but don't want to hurt his feelings again, so you ignore your discomfort.

"I'm going to go take a shower and throw my new clothes in the washer. Be safe driving home. Goodnight...again," you say it with a small laugh.

"Goodnight, Y/N."

#fic: euphoria (nate jacobs x reader)#nate jacobs x y/n #nate jacobs x you #nate jacobs x reader #nate jacobs imagine #euphoria x you #euphoria x reader #whew lad look at me exploring my emotional abuse trauma through my writing #i hope this chap doesn't suck‚ i feel like it sucks

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fanfics-and-love · 1 year

Text

How Did Love Become So Violent?

Ghostface!Tara Carpenter x reader

Not my gif

Warning(s): ghostface!Tara, canon typical violence, mentions of death, mentions of blood, mentions of alcoholism, mentions of stitches

Word count: 5k words

Summary: A new ghostface has been terrorizing Woodsboro. After one of your friends is killed, you fear how close the killer might be. You could’ve never guessed Tara was the one behind everything

masterlist

Tara Carpenter had been a constant in your life ever since you had memory.

When you lost your first tooth, she helped you hide it underneath your pillow and slept with you, holding you so you wouldn’t be taken by the Tooth Fairy. When you broke your leg trying to skateboard at fourteen, she was there on the drive to the hospital, holding your hand and telling you everything was going to be okay. When you failed your math final and your father hit you for the first time, she was there, screaming at him and dragging you towards her house.

When everything else went to shit, Tara was there, next to you, helping you through it. So when murders began to happen again in Woodsboro, she was, of course, there.

You were staying at her house for the weekend, enjoying the calmness after so many days of chaos within the school walls. Another ghostface— god, you couldn’t believe it. People wouldn’t shut up about it either.

“Y/N,” Tara called from the kitchen. You muted the TV, turning to look at her. When she entered the room, she was smiling. “The popcorn’s almost ready.”

“Cool,” you said, getting up to grab two cans of soda from the fridge.

“Hope the movie’s ready when I get there,” Tara turned back towards the kitchen, humming as she stared at the microwave. She seemed happy— happier than usual. You could only assume it was because summer vacation was getting closer. She hated school.

“Wanna know what we're gonna watch?” You asked, setting a glass on the coffee table. Tara hated drinking soda directly from the can.

“What are you watching?” She said. She only stopped looking at you when the microwave beeped. She put the bag of popcorn out, and poured the content into a bowl.

“Just the news,” you said, raising your shoulders.

“Turn that off,” she said, walking towards the sofa. She set the popcorn down harsher than necessary, sitting beside you. “You know how you get with this stuff.”

You nodded, deciding to open the Netflix app on the TV. Tara was right— you hated the whole ghostface fiasco. If you had to be honest, it scared you to pieces, though you would never admit it out loud in fear people would call you a coward. You sometimes wished you could just move out of Woodsboro, its bloody history making your bones chill. But of course, you were still underage so leaving was not an option, and even if it was, that would mean leaving Tara.

You couldn’t leave her, not after she was abandoned by her father and her sister, and her mother became a drunk. You had promised it the night Tara ran to your house, crying as she told you that Sammy is gone. You had held her throughout the night, whispering in her ear that she wasn’t alone.

“I’m right here. I’m never going to leave you,” you had pulled away then, looking into her brown eyes, surrounded by red from all the crying. “We’ll always be together.”

Something had changed in her face then, something that had made you realize it wasn’t simple words— it was a promise. One you weren’t sure how far Tara would take it to make sure you kept it.

“Sorry if I was harsh,” Tara said, as you scrolled through the multiple movie options. You turned to look at her. “I’m— I didn’t mean it that way.”

“You weren’t harsh,” you said, leaving the remote on the sofa to grab her hand. You wrapped your arms around her left one, resting your head on her shoulder. “You’re right. I get really spooked by those things. I know you’re just trying to protect me.”

And it was true. Ever since you were kids, Tara had protected you. Once, when a group of children had pushed you off a swing, she had punched one straight on the nose, hard enough to make it bleed. She had them feigned regret, telling the mother of the kid she was swinging her hands around and he just ran into her fist. You had backed her up, and after a while the mother had given up and had left the two of you alone.

It got worse after her father left, and once her sister did as well… Tara changed. She was still sweet, and caring, and the best friend in the entire world, but sometimes she would get this look on her face when you declined hanging out with her, or when you talked about how cute that guy from the TV show you were watching was. You weren’t sure what exactly it was; if it really was anything at all and not just your mind playing tricks on you, but whatever it was, you hoped it never got worse.

“I am,” Tara said. She kissed you on the head. “I will always protect you.”

You hummed, eyes getting heavy. Tara was always so warm, it felt nice to rest against her.

“Oh! Titanic,” you said. You two alternated every movie night to have control over the movie choices; you would always pick the romances or the romcoms, and Tara would choose scary movies that always ended up with you screaming and hiding your face in Tara’s neck.

“You’re a hopeless romantic,” Tara said, laughing. She grabbed the popcorn and set it on her lap, leaning back against the sofa as you pressed play.

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

Wes Hicks was found dead the following day, stabbed through the heart and neck, the cut so fiercely that the killer had almost fractured the bones on his spine. He was the fourth victim, and the closest to your group of friends.

Wes’ mother, Judy, had woken you and Tara up that morning, eyes red as she frantically asked you to go to the police station. You had gotten into her car, confused; she had almost dragged you towards it, so fast that you were still wearing your pjs and Tara’s jacket— she had lent it to you after she saw you shaking in the morning breeze.

“I can’t believe Wes is dead,” Chad said. After the interrogations, you had gathered around with Tara, Amber, Mindy and her outside the police station.

“Me either,” you said.

Amber rolled her eyes when she saw you were crying. “Honey, don’t be a crybaby. He was a dork anyways.”

You looked taken back by her words. “Wes is— was a good person. Don’t talk about him like that.”

“What are you gonna do?” She asked, moving closer to you. “Stab me?”

“What the fuck, Amber?” Mindy said, pushing her away. “Stop acting like that. Our friend is dead.”

“And we might be next,” she said, raising her shoulders. “Who the fuck knows. He was the weakest one anyway.”

“Don’t say that,” you said, sharply. You knew deep down that if someone from your friend group were to die, it would be Wes, but that didn’t mean she had to be so cruel about it, especially when his mother was a few feet away, mourning him.

“Where were you last night?” Mindy asked, crossing her arms.

Amber looked at her, and then laughed. “In my fucking house, where else?” After a moment of silence, she crossed her arms as well, moving to be in front of Mindy. “And why the fuck are you asking me that?”

“You seem rather relaxed and almost happy that your supposed friend is dead,” Chad said. “You can’t blame us for asking.”

“Oh, but I can,” Amber said, in a soft voice. “Because I can also ask where you were, and where your girlfriend was.”

“Leave Liv out of this,” Chad said, walking towards the dark-haired woman.

“Maybe you are the killer,” Amber said, eying the twins. “You two; the brains,” she pointed towards Mindy, “and the muscle.”

“I was with Liv,” Chad said.

“And I was with Frances,” Mindy said, harshly.

Amber looked at you then. “And what about you?”

“I was with Tara the entire day,” you said, feeling uncomfortable under her stare. You hated that Tara was being surprisingly quiet and wasn’t defending you.

“How convenient,” Amber said, shaking her head. “Everyone but me has a perfect alibi.”

“Maybe it’s because you are the killer,” Mindy said.

“Fuck off,” Amber said. “I’m not. But…” she turned to look at you— no, right behind you. Something crossed Amber’s face then, and she laughed. “Oh, I know just who the person is,” she said. “I know exactly who the new ghostface is,” she chuckled, turning around.

“What?” Mindy asked, looking taken back by her sudden change. “Amber!”

“What?” Amber said, getting out her car keys. “Angry I figured it out before the queen of horror?”

Tara ran after Amber, stopping her. The three of you looked as they talked, and then Amber left pushing Tara away.

“What did she say?” Chad asked.

“I asked her to go to the police,” Tara said, putting an arm around your shoulders. “I told her if she knew something she should go tell Judy, so we can get justice over Wes, but she said she doesn’t fuck with the police. Whatever that means.”

“It means she’s lying,” Mindy said. “She doesn’t know who ghostface is, and is just trying to fuck with us.”

“I think so too,” Tara said. “I just hope ghostface didn’t hear her.”

“Should we tell Judy?” You asked, leaning into Tara’s body. “Maybe he’s heard and Amber is her next victim.”

The four of you went quiet. You looked around, noticing how many people were in the surroundings of the police station. It ought to be busy, considering what had just happened, but that could mean ghostface was around, watching you and choosing his next target. A chill went down your body, and you burrowed your body into Tara’s. She held you closer, feeling your uneasiness.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Tara said. You could feel the vibrations of her voice through her body. “Amber is just fucking with us, and Judy has enough to deal with already. Giving her a possible lead and it turning into Amber being an idiot…”

“It’d break her heart,” you said, understanding her reasoning. “You’re right. Besides, it’s not like ghostface would just be stalking us… right?”

“Yeah,” Mindy said. She too was looking around, taking in all the faces surrounding your group. Inconspicuously, she pulled out her phone and took photos of the people. “Just in case.”

“Good thinking,” you said, making Mindy smile.

“I say we go back home and wait until we know something else,” Chad said. He turned to look at you. “Your mom is still off on that business trip, right?” You nodded. After your father left, your mother got a job that required her to be away for long periods of time. It paid the bills, so you didn’t complain much. “Then go to Tara’s, or Tara goes to your house. Once Liv is done being interrogated, I’ll take her to our house,” he looked at Mindy, who nodded. “And tomorrow we gather around and try to figure out who this fucker is. But until then, no one goes anywhere alone.”

“What about Amber?” you asked.

“Her house has a dope security system,” Tara said. “She’s safer inside her house. We’ll text her later about tomorrow. Maybe she actually knows who’s ghostface.”

“I doubt it,” Mindy said, never once the one who was okay with losing.

“I doubt it as well,” Tara said. “But we won’t know until tomorrow. So today we do what Chad said. Got it?”

All of you nodded, but you still felt something gripping at the back of your throat. Something was off, something that Amber could have figured out, but what was it?

“Hey,” Tara said, opening the car door for you. “It’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, eyes staring straight ahead.

You could be the next victim. You could already see the headlines: Y/N Y/L/N, dead at 18. You looked over at Tara. She could be the next one.

“What?” She asked, raising an eyebrow. She closed the car door and locked it, turning once again to look at you. “What is it, baby?”

You felt tears in your eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

“I would never leave you,” Tara said, cradling your face in her hands. “Never, okay?”

“What if you’re the next one?” You asked. You could almost see it; Tara, laying breathless on the ground, blood slowly clogging around stab wounds. “I— I don’t want you to die. Please. I love you.”

“I love you too,” she whispered. “And nothing is going to happen to me, okay? I’m going to be with you all day, and then we’ll take down that asshole together.”

“Please, don’t die,” you begged, grabbing her by her shirt. “Please.”

“I won’t,” she said. You couldn’t believe how sure she sounded.

You shook your head, and without stopping to think of the consequences, you cut the distance between your lips. Tara responded automatically, grabbing your neck and deepening the kiss. After a moment of just enjoying her close to you, you pulled away. “Wow.”

“Yeah, wow,” she said. She was still holding you by the neck. “Where did that come from?” She whispered. Her breath hit your lips, and you licked them, looking into her eyes.

“I— I’m not sure,” you said. You rubbed your nose against her, making her laugh softly. “I didn’t want one of us to die without doing this.”

“We’re not going to die,” she said. “Scratch that. I must’ve died and gone to heaven, because this is all I ever wanted.”

“Really?” You asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “I think I’ve been in love with you my entire life.”

You chuckled, pulling away to caress her cheek. “If we make it—”

“We will.”

“If we make it,” you said, giving her a hard look. She laughed, moving her hand towards your hair, scratching your scalp softly. “I’d love to go on a date with you.”

She smiled, lips stretching almost painfully. You couldn’t help yourself from kissing her again, teeth crashing into each other as you laughed. You had been wanting to kiss her for ages, and it had taken a new ghostface for you to gather up your courage.

A new ghostface. Wes, dead. And here you were, kissing and laughing with Tara. It felt like a dishonor to his memory.

“What is it?” Tara asked, noticing how your face had dropped.

“I just can’t believe he’s gone,” you whispered, blinking at the new tears that were trying to escape. “He was alive just yesterday, talking and laughing… it’s not fair.”

“It isn’t,” Tara agreed, resting a hand on your thigh. “But we’re going to figure it out, alright? And you’re going to be just fine.”

You chuckled. “You can’t promise that, Tara. Not when there’s a killer on the loose.”

Tara smiled then, and something in the back of your mind screamed at the sight; that wasn’t her normal smile, the one she had just given you after the kiss. It was gone the next second, when she reached over the console to kiss you on the cheek, and you smiled softly at the gesture. God, this whole mess was driving you crazy.

“You’re safe,” she said. “Don’t worry.”

━━━ • 𖥸 • ━━━

You woke up in the middle of the night, hearing a noise somewhere in the house. You sat up in Tara’s bed, reaching for her side of the bed.

Empty.

You had spent the entire day with her, laughing and stealing kisses. She had ordered chinese and had let you put on one of your favorite comedies to make sure your mind stayed away from Wes. She had even made you lasagna, even though she always complained about how dragging it was to make it all for it to end up tasting like feet, and you had fallen asleep shortly after, the taste of her mother’s wine still on your lips as you kissed her goodnight.

“Tara?” You asked, rubbing your eyes. Your head hurt as you got up, going to the bathroom. She wasn’t there either. You walked back to the bedroom as quietly as possible, grabbing your phone. You turned on the flashlight and, after a moment where you took a deep breath and gathered some courage, you walked downstairs.

You walked into the kitchen, thinking maybe Tara had gone there for a glass of water. Instead, you found it empty. You turned on the light and tried calling Tara, but it went straight to voicemail.

Something was wrong. Something was really, really wrong.

You grabbed a knife and turned around, looking at the place. It seemed empty, but was it? Had ghostface somehow gotten inside the house? Had Tara gone to check out some noise, just like you were doing now, and ghostface had killed her?

“Tara?” You asked in a whisper, rushing to turn on the lights of the living room.

Nothing. You looked behind the sofa, and the closet beside the front door where Tara kept all her coats. Nothing. You made sure the front door was closed, and then ran towards the dining room. Nothing. Nothing.

Where the hell was Tara?

You decided to check the bedrooms upstairs, and moved towards the kitchen to grab a bigger knife. Before you could, a hand covered your mouth and dragged you back to the living room, turning off the lights as they went. You tried to scream, and even bite off the hand, but they were wearing thick gloves that all it did was make your jaw hurt.

“Shh. I’m not going to hurt you,” you heard that disgusting modulated voice, and tears began to fall.

Ghostface was going to kill you. Ghostface had killed Tara, and she was probably laying in one of the guest rooms upstairs, her blood staining the carpet.

Once he let you go, you turned around, ready to stab him right in the chest. But he was faster, grabbing your hand and twisting it until you dropped the knife. You gasped, feeling tears as you saw your only lifeline fall to the ground in front of your eyes.

You were dead. All he had to do now was raise his knife and—

He did raise his hand, but it was empty. He grabbed your face, caressing your cheek. The material of the glove was surprisingly soft against your skin.

“Fuck you,” you said, trying to punch him in the face. He grabbed your other hand, and pushed you towards his body. The warmth felt familiar, and the smell… no, it couldn’t be.

You looked in complete shock as ghostface raised his hand and took off his mask.

Your knees almost gave in when you looked into Tara’s eyes.

No. No. No fucking way. This had to be a nightmare. Tara wouldn’t…

She wouldn’t, would she?

“Baby,” Tara whispered, dropping the mask to the ground. She stepped towards you, but you immediately moved away as you shook your head. It couldn’t be.

“You’re pranking me,” you said, voice shaky. “You— it can’t be.”

“Baby, let me explain,” she said. Though the awful mask was on the ground, she was still wearing the black robe. It made her look terrifying against the darkness, almost as if she was a flying head.

“Explain?” You asked, putting even more distance between the two of you. “You’re— you’re ghostface?”

“Yes,” Tara said. She was starting to look desperate, and you didn’t want to know what she would do then.

Would she kill you, just like she had killed Wes and those other three students? Were you her next victim? Was what had happened today all a lie, a way to get you to lower your defenses? If you hadn’t woken up, would she have stabbed you in your sleep?

“God,” you said. The tears were falling too fast now. You could barely breathe.

“Baby, listen to me,” Tara was begging. She wanted to get close to you so she could kill you? You looked at her hands, raised in surrender. Where was she keeping her knife? “Please, just let me explain.”

“You’re going to kill me,” you said, crying.

“No!” She said, in a rush. She frantically shook her head, walking all the way until she had you in her arms. You tried not to shake. “Baby, Y/N— please, look at me. Please.”

Her left hand grabbed your chin, guiding your face until you had no choice but to look at her. “Tara, how could you?” Her gloves felt wet, and you touched your chin, looking to see your fingers bloody. “God. God, Tara. This is blood.”

“It’s not mine,” she said, cursing to herself as she took off the gloves. Stupid, she should’ve taken them off before touching you.

“Whose is it?” You asked, drying your hand on your shirt. “Fucking tell me!” You pushed at her chest, hating how much she was prolonging it. You just wanted her to kill you so you could be over this panic.

“Amber’s.”

Your breath caught in your throat at the name. So she knew— she had figured out Tara was the killer, and that had gotten her killed. You couldn’t believe what was happening.

“What?”

“When she said she knew who the killer was,” Tara said, once again moving towards you. “I ran to her and told her we’d talk at night,” she was soft as she grabbed your hands. It felt nice to finally feel her skin on yours. “She said yes, because she wanted to be part of it. The fucking hero who will bring the Stab movies back from it’s fall from grace,” you swallowed hard, trying not to picture Tara stabbing Amber. “I put sleeping pills on the wine,” your breath was momentarily stuck in your throat; so that was why she had declined the glass you had offered her. “So you would fall asleep fast. That way I could go talk to get and not implicate you. It was to keep you safe, and out of this.”

“Jesus Christ,” you rubbed your forehead. Now it made sense why your head had hurt so much when you had woken up. It was a wonder you were even awake now, which was probably why she had been more careless moving around the house and making noises.

“ I was just going to talk to her. I swear. I didn’t want to kill her,” she sounded desperate as she grabbed your cheeks, making you look at her. “She kept the back door open, and I got in. I had the ghostface costume on my back because I knew she’d want to see it. And she did. God, her eyes…” she shook her head. “She was delighted when I told her how I killed Wes, and those three other boys.” Those three other boys who had asked you out this past year, you completed the sentence. How could you have been so stupid to not connect everything before? It all pointed towards you, which in turn pointed towards Tara. “But then,” Tara said. “But then she started to talk about my sister, and—” she shook her head. “That doesn’t matter. We were going to arrange an attack on her, to eliminate her as a suspect, and then one on me. But I knew the more she talked, that she was planning on killing you. Her movie could only have two survivors. I knew it, and she knew it. I couldn’t allow it. So I went into the bathroom while she was typing on her computer with a smile on her face and put on the mask and the robe, and then I killed her. She couldn’t kill you.”

“Why?” You asked, trying not to notice Tara’s fingers gently drying your tears. “Because I’m yours to kill?”

“No!” Tara said. “You— no. Please, don’t ever say that,” the desperation in her voice surprised you. “Please. No. Never. I will never let anyone hurt you, not even myself. I will never hurt you.”

“Tara, you’re a murderer,” you said, blinking rapidly. You refused to cry anymore. You were too angry to shed any more tears. “You fucking killed Wes!”

“Because he was going to steal you,” Tara said. Her eyes were wide open; it made her look terrifying, so different from the girl you’ve known for so long. “He was in love with you. I heard him talk with Chad, saying how he wanted to ask you on a date. I couldn’t let him do it.”

“God, Tara…” you closed your eyes, letting your head fall towards the wall. You weren’t even sure when she had cornered you, but it made your heart beat faster when you realized you had nowhere else to go. “You… you’re crazy. Like clinically sick in the head. Mental asylum type of way.”

“You drive me crazy,” she whispered, her lips hovering over yours. You put your hands on her shoulders and pushed her away. “I did all of this for you. So we could be together.”

“Tara—”

“We have to be together,” she said. “Don’t you see? It’s always been you and I. My father left, my sister left, my mother doesn’t even look my way on the rare occasion she’s home… but you have never left me, because you’re my constant. I can’t let anyone take you away from me. I’d go crazy without you.”

“And this is not crazy?” You asked, fisting her robe harshly. You couldn’t help but remember just that morning, when you had grabbed her shirt the same way to push her towards you. The memory tasted bittersweet now, tainted by her recent actions.

“This is me making sure things stay the same,” Tara said. Her nose caressed your neck, and you let her. Your body was completely petrified. “We’ve been so good lately. You even kissed me today. You want to be my girlfriend. You asked me on a date.”

“That was before,” You said, shaking your head.

“This doesn’t change anything,” she said, desperate. “I’m still the same person I was this morning.”

“I thought I knew you,” you said in a whisper. “I thought… I thought we were in this together. I didn’t know you were a fucking killer.”

Tara swallowed, tears in her eyes. “Please,” she said, hands on your hands. “Please, please. Y/N, please. Don’t leave me.”

“Tara…”

“I’ll beg until my throat is raw. I’ll beg on my knees— do you want me to get on my knees and ask you for forgiveness? I will right now. I’ll do whatever you want.”

You rushed to grab her forearms when you saw her beginning to lower herself onto the ground. “Don’t do that,” you said through gritted teeth. “Get up. Jesus.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, straightening her back. “Please. You’re all I have. I did this for you— for us. I don’t know what’s gonna happen to me if you leave.”

“For fuck’s sake…” This was too much. You looked down, and saw her hands were shaking. Her eyes were full of fear, so profound you couldn’t stop yourself from hugging her. She immediately relaxed into your body, head pressed against your neck as she sobbed.

“I did this for us. Don’t leave me,” she whispered over and over, as you ran your hands through her back.

You were reminded of the night her sister left. You had held her just like this, and she had shaken the same way as she cried. What would happen if you packed your bags and left, just like you had been planning in your mind ever since she had removed that mask? Something horrible, even compared to those four kills.

You didn’t want to know what would happen. It made your skin crawl with fear.

“It’s okay,” you whispered.

She felt small in your arms, opposite to how she usually acted— like the oldest, the strongest, unable to feel any fear or pain as she let you rely on her. She had always tried to be strong for you, with the exception of now; and that time when she was a little kid and had scraped her knee, so hard she had needed two stitches. You had hugged her as she shook in pain, waiting for your mom to pull out the car so she could take her to the hospital.

“Don’t go,” she begged. It was hard to imagine this same girl that was clutching onto you killing people emotionlessly. It was hard to see her as anything but your Tara.

“I won’t,” you whispered, running your hand through her hair. “I won’t leave you.”

“You won’t?” She asked, pulling away to look at you. You sighed, drying her tears.

“I won’t,” you said, hating how your loyalty towards her was stronger than your moral compass. But this was Tara, a girl who loved you, and a girl that would be dangerous if you weren’t there to stop her. “But you have to promise you won’t kill anyone else.”

She hesitated, eyes looking at the ground. You wondered if she was too far gone to live without killing now she had gotten a taste for it.

You weren’t sure if you wanted to find out.

“I promise.”

And deep down, you knew she was lying. But you still allowed her to grab your neck and kiss you. Her lips were just as soft as when you kissed her for the first time.

You weren’t sure if you had made the right choice.

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