#i would also like to point out she managed to start this fire the SECOND she put her eggs on the stove | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

carmenized-onions · 14 days

Text

Do the Thing! | Toilet Repair

logline; Today's itinerary: Fix the toilet, catch up with Syd, try not to cry when everyone asks you where you've been.

series history; Previous Chapter

portion; 7.1k+ (this shit got away from me man, idk what to say)

possible allergies; Negative self-talk (It's the Bear, babe, everyone's sad). I did no research on plumbing and am truly making it the fuck up-- I know for a fact I'm not using any word correctly and I simply will not be fixing it. Reader eats meat!! Specifically pork!! Your 'name' is 100% just Tony now.

pairing; Carmen 'Carmy' Berzatto & Fem Reader (No pronouns, but 'handywoman' and 'Miss' are said. Plus a chest reference).

you ever start writing and you just cannot seem to find an end so you keep going forever? yeah.

“I think my name is just Tony now.”

You sip your overpriced orange juice. You really have to fucking savour it, now a days. That’s like 25 cents a sip, and Syd’s treating you to this breakfast outing, so it’s not even your own wallet on the line here.

“You lose all sense of identity, in a restaurant.” Syd straightens her back, mocking her very own mechanical movements of whenever she steps in a kitchen. “I am Chef.”

This diner isn’t more than two blocks down from The Bear. It was probably your second favourite spot in this neighbourhood. Probably still is. Sitting in the back corner booth (your favourite) with Syd is nice but distracting. She’s been updating you on everything since the catering scene and her botched credit, and you’re absorbing all of it, you swear, it’s just hard to not remember why this was your favourite booth.

Not because it’s seats are the least worn in, not because it’s got the right amount of sun through the window without blinding you, but because of the company you kept here. You’re trying to not notice your own name carved into the table. Especially since it’s not your handiwork.

You laugh at Syd’s joke on time, thank God. No awkward pause. “Yeah, you fuckin’ are. Head, right?”

She nods. “It’s cool. It’s like, vomit-worthy stressful but also…”

“You wish you were dead when you’re there, but you’d rather be dead than do anything else?”

“Yessir.” She nods again, digging further into her pancakes. “I really fucking owe you, by the way.”

“You’re paying me off through breakfast.” You wave her off. “Plus, I was available and it was like maaayybe 5 minutes of manual labour, it’s nothing.”

“Y’know what?” She hums, “I think actually, you owe me.”

“Yeah?” You grin.” Please, let me clear my debts, Syd?”

She smiles, pointing her fork at you. “You owe me the fuckin’ Beef background I’ve apparently not unlocked. Everyone was talking about you after.”

“Good things?”

“Vague things. Shit made me even more curious.”

You laugh. No shit they’d be vague. What can they say? “When my dad was running the repairmen gig, Cicero or Fak would call him in—”

“Oh fuck.” She snaps her fingers, seemingly in realization. “Your dad’s the connection!”

“The connection?”

“Fak said he had a connection for our fire safety test shit, and then said he didn’t—”

“Ah.” You nod knowingly. “Dad cut the cord on his business phone when it transferred to me, didn’t really keep people updated. Whoops.”

She nods, taking another bite of her pancakes, speaking mid-chew. “You could’ve saved our asses way faster, and I’ll-I'll never forgive you, but continue.”

Snickering, you continue, “Well, they’d call my dad in, and then my dad would call me in as his like, like his fuckin’ Sous of Repairs. And shit broke all the time at the Beef, as I’m sure you’re well aware, so I hung out around Mikey and everyone a lot.”

“Ah. N’ then…”

“He fuckin’ died.” You laugh, because there’s no way to say it smooth, so you might as well say it bad. You stretch out your arms and lean back in the booth. “I kinda took a step back, after that, so we didn’t manage to crossover ‘til now. S’ironic that you’re the one that brought me back instead of an oldie, honestly.”

She desperately wants to ask more about Mike, but she can tell now is not the time, so she just lets it lie and moves on. “You stopped being an EMT to take up the handyman shit, then?”

“Yessir.” You nod, finishing your straggling home fries. “Just kinda made sense to trade off, and I didn’t want to see the family bizz die. Do I have to occasionally pick up shifts bartending to make rent during slow months? Yes. But I also don’t watch people die anymore, so that’s a win.”

“In a way, you’re watching people die still, just slowly.”

You bite down hard to stifle any semblance of a smile or laughter, deadpanning, just to see her squirm in awkwardness for a moment. It works with flying colours, of course it does. It’s Syd. She’s still Syd. You speak at the same time.

“Cause of the alcohol?” “Cause—Cause of the alcohol.”

You both break into laughter, she throws her napkin at you. “Can’t stand you, oh my god. Let’s go clock in.”

She pays your bill before you can try to sneak your card in, which feels all too familiar, and you’re off.

Off to fix an exploded toilet.

“How the fuck do you fix an exploded toilet?”

Your hands rub over your face, lifting your safety goggles for a second. Too fucking foggy. Too fucking sweaty. Plumbing never really was your biggest strength. You’re staring at the bane of your existence, and it’s the latrine. How far we fall.

“You good, Cousin?” You hear from behind. You don’t need to turn to know it’s Richie in the doorway. It’s a fair question, you’re sitting criss-cross in front of a toilet, head in hands.

“Yeah, Cousin, I’m good.” Your words are muffled by your hands. Fully not cousins. For the record. You would argue you're not even that close, but he'd slap you upside the head. You turn to look at him over your shoulder. “Can you like, get me a pen and note pad? I need to like, strategize an attack.”

“It’s not that bad, Cousin—” “It’s that bad.” “Just tape the—” “Fuck off with the tape!”

You click your teeth, staring at the gurgling porcelain before you— At least it’s clean, it’s just fucked. “I shut the valve and it didn’t do shit. I think I have to remove it entirely so I can see what’s going on with the underground pipe.”

“Heard.” Richie and you both know that his hotfix handiwork has absolutely contributed to this penultimate mess you’re in now, but you’re both letting that go quietly for now. “You charge by hour or service?”

“Service flat rate and then after two hours it’s by hour.”

He hums, knocking his fist on the doorway a few times before walking away. “Pen and pad, Chef.”

“Not a Chef!”

“Term of Respect, Chef!”

You tap your leg incessantly, groaning like you’ve got an 80-year-old body as you stand to your feet. Richie’s grown a lot. He wears suits now. Hasn’t even poked at you for vanishing. Though you have a feeling it’s coming. If not from him, from someone.

You step out into the hall, leaned against the wall with your arms crossed as you wait for your pen and pad. And now you just have more time and a better view to take in how much has changed.

Gutted. A few walls gone. Makes sense, you told Mikey he was getting a mold problem. He never listened. Seats are new. The booths are the all-around style ones now. Ritzy. It’s too good for this neighbourhood. Is that a good thing? Yeah, right? Despite the fact that The Bear should feel out of place, you feel out of place being in it. Could you afford to eat here? Could the people who work here afford to eat here? Syd said she’s not getting paid for the next few months, so at the very least, the Head Chef can’t.

“Strange?” Tina sidles up to you on the wall, wiping her hands on her apron. Completely knocking you out of your dissociative fugue state.

“Yeah.” You nod, a little too quickly, that felt judgey, you correct, uncrossing your arms. “It’s daunting, I think; to see it all at once rather than slowly built in. Like, I know objectively this is very cool, but—”

Tina hums with understanding. “Feels gutted?”

“Was gutted.” You nod. “Doesn’t mean I don’t like it, it’s just, I dunno. Adjustment period, all that.”

“I needed a second too, but Jeff is good. Change has been good.” You nod like you know who Jeff is. “Carmen, I mean.” Your nod is now significantly more understanding. She smiles, you’re a little surprised to see Tina’s got a lot more insight than she used to. She pulled the thought of Carmen right out of your subconscious before you even detected it for yourself. “He’s good. You’ll see.”

You nod. You know the good she means is not Michelin Star Good. You already know that. He’s Mikey good. Person good. You clear your throat. “How’s Louis?”

“Good. Y’know, he’s getting to that age, getting in trouble. S’been a while since he’s had a good influence.” She nudges you. There it is. There’s the poke. The ‘where have you been?’ The ‘it’s been a year’. The— “Y’know, Chef didn’t come to the funeral neither.”

That one you didn’t expect, your head swivels to her hard. “Carmen didn’t go?”

His brother didn’t go? Oh, who the fuck are you to judge...

She nods, practically with her whole body, she looks more amused than anything. But like, mom amused. The worst amused. “You’re both the sensitive type.”

You cock your head at her, raising a brow. Smirking slightly. “Wow, Tina, I thought you changed too but you still talk your shit, eh?”

“I’m not talking shit!” She laughs, hands up in defence. “I’m just saying, you’re alike.” You hope that the laughter makes her forget the topic but it doesn’t.

“Where have you been?” She softens. She’s not asking to be mean, she’s asking out of concern. Why does that make it feel worse?

You tuck your hands in your pockets and retrain your eyes on hers, even if it feels bad. “Thought time and distance would heal all wounds.”

“Did they?”

Before you can answer, “Pen delivery, cousin!” Richie returns, triumphantly, with a pen and pad held high in the sky. He makes you jump for it. You elbow him in the gut, not hard. “Fuck off, Rich…” He keels over enough for you to grab it. “Thank you, chef.”

You turn back to Tina, who you now realize has spent half her smoke break on you. She nods to you, and then the bathroom door. “I’ll let you get back to it.” You nod in return. When she turns to walk away, you grab her shoulder.

“Tina.” She turns again. You should say something. Something vulnerable and thankful. Words of affirmation are not your thing. But maybe they could be, “If you end up with a dead plate—” Or maybe not.

She grins, and part of you is concerned by this, but she waves you off, giggling like she knows something you don’t. Already walking off. “You’re gonna be taken care of, Terry, don’t worry.”

This is a bad new nickname scheme. The fridge guy is just gonna end up being called ‘fridge guy’ if you take all his names.

It’s maybe three hours later. 11 am ish. You’ve finally put the toilet back in place, the pipes fixed underground— Which is a huge win of progress, the problem is, it’s just seemed to open the toilet’s ability to have other problems that need to be addressed. There’s a strong chance you’ll be here until you die. And even after that, this stupid toilet will still be gurgling, outliving you.

But you seriously have to eat something, so you scrub yourself clean, set your safety equipment down, and head out of the bathroom for a much-needed stretch of the legs— And to hopefully get a plate from Tina.

On your way to the kitchen, you’re stopped and walked backwards to a booth in the corner by Richie. “Hey, Miss, happy to serve you today, my name’s Richard but you can call me Richie, how’re you doin’ this fine morning?”

They’ve yet to open front of house, so you play along, taking your seat with a laugh. “I’m doing perfect, Richie, how are you?”

He nudges the air . “Ey, better now that you’re here, ah? Can I get a drink started for you?”

“Really gonna practice your set on me?”

He shrugs, still smiling. “If you don’t use it, you lose it.”

You hum, then rub your temples, the headache is setting in— Not cause of him, just been a tough morning. “Just your coldest fuckin’ glass of water, Rich.”

“Right away, Cousin.” He slips off into the kitchen.

When the door swings open again, it’s not Richie coming with your ice water, but Carmen— It’s your first time seeing him since the walk-in. When you came in this morning with Syd, it was Nat that gave you the quick briefing on the schedule and goals for today.

“Tony.” He hums, corners of his mouth just slightly upturned. The nickname has stuck. Goddamn. He sets the water down in front of you, along with a plate— Covered by a cloche—Or the silver lid thing, whatever.

“Carmy.” You only mean to mimic his tone, but then cringe. “Is Carmy fine?”

He pauses mid slide into the booth, sitting across from you. He seemed all cool and collected and is now suddenly extremely caught off guard. Already sweaty. “Y-yeah, I’m better, thank you—”

“No, I meant—” It is so difficult to hold back laughter. You deserve an Oscar.

You’re not doing great to be fair but like, still, Oscar worthy attempt.

“I meant like, like is the nickname okay?”

The horrors just keep piling on his face, and you can’t help but feel guilty. No shit he feels like he’s starting on a lower playing field here. You knew his dead brother, you know his Head Chef, your first time meeting him was at quite possibly his lowest moment and biggest mistake— Of which you had to coax him out of, and now he’s misunderstanding every innocent question you have for a inquiry into his psyche.

He clears his throat for objectively too long of a time. “Carmy is fine. Tony is fine?”

“I’m doing okay, yeah.”

Thank God, he laughs, awkward sure but objectively amused.

You nod down to the covered plate, smiling, “Fuck is this?”

He leans forward in his seat to get a hand over the lid. “I, uh. Made you a thing. As thanks or like, an— an apology.”

Ah. That’s why Tina was laughing about you getting taken care of.

He lifts the lid, and what is revealed, if you weren’t careful, would be enough to make you cry. Thankfully, the shock registers as uproarious laughter, one that Carmen cannot help but join.

“What the fuck?”

Pork brisket sandwich. Something that Mikey made for you, specifically. Because you said one time you were more of a pork fan than beef and he absolutely lost it. In a cute way, though. Said ‘Oh, I’ll make you fuckin’ pork, alright?’ You’re not sure if he won or lost the argument, because you did find it better.

“I, uh, we had some cuts left over that we weren’t gonna be able to fuckin’ use, and uh, Tina showed me this, this recipe card, last night.” He slides over the very same brisket recipe Mikey had written down. Little doodles of angry faces and Xs over pigs in the margins.

“He was so fuckin’ mad.” You snort, looking at it. “All I fuckin’ said was I had a preference!”

“In The Beef!”

“He asked!” You quickly defend, through laughter. “And it tastes fucking good. All he did was prove my fuckin’ point— And spent hours doing it. Were you here overnight for this, slowcooking?”

He shakes his head, though there’s a hesitation in it— So you’re not privy to completely believe him. He sniffs, swiping at his nose “I, uh, just came in early. Had to fix some shit anyways.”

He’s staring at the sandwich, then occasionally you, expectantly. You look at him with equal expectance.

“Well?” You start.

“Well?” He astutely adds.

You nod down at the dish. “Do the thing.”

“The thing?”

You pick up one half of the sandwich, but you’ve got no plans of eating until he satisfies this craving first.

“The thing Syd does where she explains why she’s proud of her dish and why I should care. I know it’s Mikey’s, but you clearly made changes.”

“Oh. Uh…” He was both expecting and not expecting this soap box. “So, followed the rub to a T— Well, with a salt bed, this time. Put it on brioche instead of the old shit. And I uh, added uhm—” He snaps his fingers, staring at the sandwich in your hand. “Added pickled red onion, for acid and sweet, and garlic confit. I’m—I’m happy with my spin on it.”

You whistle as a form of praise, he flushes with a glow of pride and is desperately trying to not show it. He’s proud because it’s curated, personal. Ah, he is Mikey good. You nod and take a bite, trying to control your reaction. Worst part about having Artists as friends (especially chefs): They fucking stare so hard when you’re taking in their work. And they’re over analyzing every micro expression. He’s no different.

Fuck. It’s fucking good. Is it bad that it’s better than anything Mikey ever made? Nah, that’s how he’d want it.

“Ah fuck, that sucks—” Is the first thing you say, and his face falls, “Expensive food is worth it.” Right back up. Easy to please. “It’s really good, Chef. Thank you. Did you try it yet?”

He shakes his head, so you push the plate with the other half of the sandwich— It’s brisket, anyways. You’ll be full by the end of this one. Portions generous. He looks momentarily hesitant, which is cute, but inevitably leans forward and takes the sandwich. He nods with each chew.

He hums when he finishes chewing, pointing emphatically at you, though his voice is neutral. “You don’t like something, though.”

“What?”

“What’s wrong with it?” He stares at into the cross section of his bite. “Chewy? Texture?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” You’re quick to deny.

He shakes his head, hand over his mouth to hide the sauce on his mouth. “M’not gonna be hurt.”

“There’s nothing wrong with the dish, Carmen.” You take another bite to prove your point. Also you’re hungry. Two things can be true.

He zones in on the emphasis immediately. “It’s the plate, isn’t it? I told Syd—”

“Your tables aren’t bolted.” You interrupt, swiftly. Mouth semi-full.

“Huh?”

You put your sandwich down and swallow, taking your time with it. “Your booth tables.”

You knock on the pristine wood with the joints of your left hand. You swivel your body to look under the table, he follows suit, meeting you there. His left leg has been violently shaking, but he’s thought you wouldn’t notice it until now.

You put a hand on his knee to stop the shaking. He bristles, slightly, but you’re not even doing it on purpose. Your focus isn’t on him. It was making the table imperceptibly shift— Which, of course, you clocked. You tap your foot to the bottom of the table leg. No screws. “They aren’t bolted down.”

You lift yourself back up, moving your hand back to yourself in tandem. He stares at it for a little longer. How you noticed that, he will never know. Repairmen are a different breed…

“I just thought it was a weird choice. Nothing wrong with it, per say. Maybe you wanna test different layouts.” You shrug, taking another bite.

“The booths aren’t bolted either.” He adds, lifting his head up above the table, finally. “I don’t— we’re not gonna fuck with the layout, I don’t think.”

“Should get Fak on that, then.”

“Fak’s big-timing us.” You cock your brow, mid chew. He explains. “He’s focusing on hosting, f'now.”

You nod, swallowing, hand in front of your mouth so you can lick the sauce off your upper lip in non-humiliated peace. “This another job for me, then?”

“If you’ll take it.”

“If your fuckin’ toilet doesn’t kill me, I will.”

“How’s that going?”

You shake your hand so-so. “Ask me in two to three hours how it’s going.”

“Heard.” He sighs, leaning back in the booth. The stress is too apparent not to ask.

“How’s the second day open going?”

“I’m not in a fuckin’ freezer, so that’s a win.” Oh-ho, he’s acknowledging it. You were very comfortable forgetting that moment for his sake. “Thanks, uh, f’ that.”

You shake your head, shrugging off the thanks. You lift your last few bites of the sandwich to him. “You’re good. You’ve gifted me brisket. You relax since?”

“Not really.” He replies bluntly, taking a deep inhale. He pulls at his face from the top down, with both hands. Oof. Bad sign. “I think I’ll be good by tomorrow. Gonna get off early, tonight.”

“You don’t seem happy about that.”

“Ask me in two t’ three days if I’m happy about it.”

Back to work and this is taking so much fucking longer than it needs to take. Why is there tape there? Fucking Richie. Fucking Fak. Fucking Mikey. Godssake. Pipes are fixed. Water pressure is fixed. What the fuck is still wrong with it? What the fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is going to hate you if you can’t fix this. You’ve been here for like 5 hours and you can’t figure out what’s fucking wrong here? You’re nothing. You’re—

The toilet does you the favour of knocking you out of your episode by spraying you in the fucking face, soaking through the top of your jumpsuit. With a groan, you unzip the upper half and tie the wet sleeves around your waist. “Son-of-a-bitch.”

Maybe you just need a change in task for a second. Also, a new t-shirt, because your tank did not survive the waterworks either. This room isn’t the thing you need right now. You slip down the hall to the kitchen. “Who needs a coffee? Or water?”

There’s a chorus of orders, all of which sound like you’ve just asked ‘who wants a gift from God?’, which, you might as well have. This is what you like about being a handyman. The relief you bring. You just need a smidge of praise to get through the rest of this job. You’ve got this.

The small, but serviceable coffee machine in very back of the kitchen calls your name, but Richie sticks his arm out, blocking you from walking past expo up front.

“Hol’ up, Cousin, you look like a fuckin’ wet dog.”

“Well, what ‘ya gonna do about it?” You retort, despite the retort not honestly making any sense, you put your hands on your hips. “Do you want a fuckin’ coffee or not?”

He rolls his eyes, falling back onto the balls of his feet before walking off. “Ey, Sug, are those shirts still in the basement—”

You’ve won for now. You scrub your hands clean before getting to work. This is good. Oooh, Marcus has fresh coffee beans (that he’s willing to share!)— This is easy. You can already fix most broken things, but a machine that actually fucking works? Baby, you can make that sing.

Plus, the bartending gigs you’ve done don’t make you a barista by any means, but they certainly don’t hurt. Oooh, Marcus has syrups! Fuck it. Steamed and frothed milk. That toilet has you on your ass, you need to go above and beyond here. Make each cup personal. You need a win in the form of admiration.

You gather a tray of coffees (and a water for Sweeps, who is too fucking sweaty for a hot drink right now, so fair), all varying in milks, sugars, syrups, intensity. “Coffee run, I hand ‘em out, don’t just take! Corner!”

Ebra, to no one’s shock, likes his coffee black— But, and he’ll tell no one this, you just know it on instinct— He likes it a little too watery. “Good.” Who are you to judge? He likes what he likes.

Tina would take hers black for simplicity, if you let her, but of course you don’t. 2 sugars, foamed milk, chocolate and cinnamon syrup. “Too good to me.” It’s too worth it, when she says it like that and slaps your cheek. Balm of the soul.

Marcus, who watched you make these, did opt to let his imagination run too wild and added one of every syrup to his own cup, wanting to experiment with you. It doesn’t taste good. You switch it for a spiced coffee when he’s not looking. He’s silently very thankful.

After handing out a few more to the new cooks, you come up to Syd. “Take this one, take this one.” Then whisper, so no one knows you are displaying supreme favouritism. “It’s the one oat milk latte I made.”

She turns to you from her station, then darts looks over her shoulder like she’s making an under the table deal before grabbing it from you. She takes a delighted sip, eyes rolling just slightly in the relief of caffeine, she nods. “Fire, Chef.” Ah. This will get you through the day alone.

It also gets you through the willpower it takes to ignore Fak running by you to steal a coffee off your tray. Out of the corner of your eye, you point to the one meant for him— As if you didn’t make it for him, c’mon…

“How’s bathroom?” Syd asks, taking another long sip.

I’m going to fucking explode, not unlike your drainage pipe. “Needed a thinking break, but I’ve made a lot of progress. How’s kitchen?”

“Made a lot of progress. Auto-piloting through this prep.” She looks down at her cutting board, cracking back to it. “Latte helps, a lot, thank you. You should join for family, if you’re still here for it. Unless you don’t want more brisket.”

Fuck. She doesn’t think you’re so slow that you’re gonna be here until family, does she? “Yeah, maybe.” You look around, three coffees still on the tray. “...Where’s Carmen?”

She grimaces. Uh oh. The tension she glossed over at breakfast is still definitely there. She nods her head to the back door. “Smoke break. Or temper tantrum. I don’t fuckin’ know. Don’t tell him I said that.” You laugh, nodding. “You think a coffee would help—” “Please.”

“Corner!” Yells Richie, returning to you. He silently flicks out a shirt for you, holding it up proudly, ‘THE BERF’ stares back at you. You give it a solid five seconds to process before you say anything.

“Collector’s item...” You nod, tone sarcastically impressed. You pivot your shoulder for him to throw it over, hands too busy.

“That’s what I fuckin’ said!” He throws it over your shoulder. “No one fuckin’ listens, these days.”

You bite back laughter and nod, handing him his coffee. Hot. Dark. Two sugars. And, to his delighted surprise, a touch of cinnamon syrup. “Oh, fuck, missed your twists, Chip.”

You wince at what was a long-forgotten nickname, and so does Richie. Funny how remembering origins can do that to you. He’d just said it so instinctively, really. “My bad—”

“Chip is good.” You interrupt, rolling your shoulders back. And it is good, really. “It’s kinda—It’s kinda comforting.” It’s nice to not forget. He nods, and you give each other the ‘we are still so fucked, eh?’ smile before lovingly bumping shoulders as he returns to expo and you head to the back alley.

Carmen’s squatting, cigarette in one hand, creating a halo of smoke around him, and his phone in the other. He snaps out of his mental fog when the door opens, slipping his phone into the pocket of his apron like he’s got a secret to hide.

You hesitate at the doorway, maybe this is not the moment. “Sorry, Chef, I just wanted to offer a coffee? If you need air alone—”

“No, no, I’m good—” He’s quick to correct, then even quicker to correct himself. “I— I’ll take a coffee, I mean. You can stay, s’fine.”

He reaches for it when you sit next to him, but you pull the tray back to hand him the correct one. “Sorry, I—I like, did a thing, for yours. I dunno how you take your coffee, so I thought I’d do it weird.”

He takes the cup, eying it curiously. “Do it weird?”

“Do it like, like a Chef. Can’t make anything fuckin’ simple. The lot of you.”

He hums, amused, staring at the cup, then looks at you expectantly. “Well?”

“Well?”

“Do the thing.”

You snort, shaking your head. “Oh, fuck off.”

“C’mon, tell me why I should care.” He teases.

“Ah, fuck.” You sniff, oh to have your own words turned on you. Looking at the coffee in his hands, “I figured you’d like strong black coffee, but like, complex. So, it’s got like, cardamom and lavender n’ maple syrup. Shout out Marcus.” He smiles. “And then, I know I did just say black coffee but I wanted the aesthetic so I spooned foamed milk on top and sprinkled on some dried lavender.” You take your own cup in hand, putting the tray down. “If you hate it, we’ll trade.”

He pays close attention to your explanation. Man, his eye contact is simultaneously so soft and so scary. He takes a sip. Let’s it sit in his mouth for a second. “Excellent, Chef.”

Oh, if Syd’s ‘Fire’ could get you through the day, Carmen’s ‘Excellent’ will get you through the week to spare. You hide the way you beam by drinking your own coffee.

“How’re you doing?” It’s far too obvious that he’s had something heavy on his head all day, but you’re not going to say the quiet part loud, yet.

He takes a long time to respond. “I, uh…” And when he does, it’s weak. “I’m alright, yeah. I’m alright.”

You nod repeatedly, digesting the huge lie. “Ask me how I’m doing.”

He squints. “…How’re you—”

“Fuckin’ terrible, Carm.” You cut him off, putting your cup down next to him, standing up. You speak emphatically, gesturing with your whole body.

“I’m at my wits, Chef. Completely out of my depth. I fix the main pipe, I fix the water pressure, I triple check the tank, I fuckin’ power cycle the valve— I’m absolutely at a loss as to why it’s still gurgling— Why it shot water straight at my tits— Close your eyes, if you care, by the way.”

With barely any warning you peel off your tank top, you’ve got a bra, it’s fine. It’s very cute that he still looks away. You slip the new shirt over your head as you speak, muffling the words.

“—I’m wearing a shirt that says Berf, and the only way I can feel any semblance of not being utterly useless is by making coffees so good everyone has to praise me for them. And now I’m telling the fucking owner, my boss for the day all this.”

He nods, slowly. There is perhaps, not a single person in his life that has ever been this forthright. Someone he hasn’t had to over-analyze or dig into to figure out what’s actually going on. It is refreshing, terrifying, and for some reason, removing your walls have completely shattered his.

“So.” You lower your head to his level where he sits. “How are you doing, Chef?”

He takes a long sip of his coffee. Stews on the question before he spills his guts, calmly. “I’m sitting outside of the restaurant I started that I own, and my brother should be here, but he’s not and— And I was locked in a fuckin’ freezer on my opening night, which was my own fuckin’ fault— And the tape is wrong and the painting is stupid and that new hire did meth so now we’re down one.” He takes a deep breath.

“And we have Heinz instead of Frenchies, and it’s fine. That’s the fucked part— It’s fine. The ship did not sink without me— It went fine. Better, maybe. My problems aren’t fuckin’ problems. I’m just making it worse for myself— everyone. And I know Syd is mad at me, and I know my— My girlfriend? Is mad at me, and I know that I’m gonna break up with her tonight because I’m not meant to be— that.” He says the last part fast, more to himself than you, really. And then he finally looks back up at you.

“And I’m telling all of this to the person who saved me from hypothermia and a fuckin’—Fuckin’ meltdown, who probably thinks— knows that I’m a psycho.”

You take a beat before nodding, sitting next to him again, arms crossed. Silent. Contemplative. “I have thoughts.”

He nods, taking a drag. “Don’t pull punches.”

“Well, to start most honestly, we must remember, I love Syd. So, I’m not gonna mince about her.”

“Heard.”

You recall everything Sydney had told you at breakfast. The recap of how she got to this point. “Syd isn’t mad at you, she’s disappointed and distrustful.”

He grimaces. “That sounds worse.”

“It is.”

“Oh.”

“But in a way you can fix.”

“How?”

“Handle shit different. Actually show up to shit and make calls. Manage your priorities by urgency— Not by favourites. If I broke my fuckin’ arm and your ‘girlfriend’ had a runny nose, who are you taking to the hospital?”

“You can’t take yourself?”

“Bitch?”

“Kidding. Heard. What else?”

“You’re not gonna tell her I said this because she would rather die than tell someone she wants something.” You lean closer to him, peeking over your shoulder to make sure no one’s secretly come from the kitchen. You knock into his knees.

He takes another drag, short, choked. “Sure.”

“You were kind of a bitch about the menu.”

“The chaos menu? She said—”

“She fucking lied. She lied when she said it was fine, Carm, it does not take a psychic to read Syd’s mind.” You interrupt, taking a sip of your coffee. “She was so excited to get to build a menu, especially with—” you, “—a partner, and then you completely ditched her. And then you just made your own! Total control freak shit! Cut her out of the fun part of being head chef completely! You get to invent masterpieces and she picks out the best cheap plate? Fuck is that?”

He nods contemplatively, poking his inner cheek. “Yeah, that, that makes sense. That’s shitty.” He turns his gaze from looking ahead to face you, hand over the bottom half of his face. “What else?”

“You’re reactive.”

“No shit.”

“How long do you think you were locked in the walk-in for?”

He swallows, thinking. “Like… an hour?”

“It had been 23 minutes.”

“Oh.”

“You catastrophize, it’s a fancy therapy word,” You cannot help but be impressed by this white man writing down the word in his phone for later. “It means, basically, when something bad happens you blow it completely out of proportion into something it isn’t. Your opening night was definitely a bummer from being in a freezer— But be honest with yourself, would you have let yourself have a good night if you weren’t in there?”

“…No.”

“No. Which is also bad. Which brings me to my key point.”

He tenses up, preparing for you to rip into him further.

“You’re doing a good job, Carmy.”

He immediately swivels back to you, almost dropping his phone. Knee knocking into yours. “Fuck off.”

“I will not.”

“You just said I was a catastrophe.”

“Fully not what I said.”

“I read between the lines.”

“Carmen.”

You take a breath, putting your arms on your knees, bent over. “The restaurant is beautiful, your cooks are talented and they’re prepared— So prepared that they can handle 23 minutes without you. That’s a good thing. You’re threaded into The Bear— The ship didn’t sink, not because you weren’t there, but because you had been. Everyone had the tools they needed to succeed, even with Heinz, a Mid painting, and torn tape. And listen—” You take one last sip of your coffee. “You need to check your ego if you think you’re the first man I’ve coaxed through a panic attack while doing a repair.”

He laughs, half-heartedly. He scratches his nose. “Heard. Yeah, thank you, Chef.”

“I don’t know shit about the meth thing though, I really couldn’t tell you.” You smile when this coaxes a better laugh out of him. You’re considering a career in stand up exclusively for him because it feels like such a reward to hear it.

“And the girl?” He asks. Amusement tinging but leaving his voice.

You click your teeth, shrugging your shoulders at him. “Based purely on your hesitation to say girlfriend, I’d say yeah, probably not ready for a relationship.” You reach your hand out to his shoulder when he flops his head down. “But, just asking, is this your first relationship?”

He thinks for too long before nodding slightly. “First one.”

“First restaurant too?”

He nods again.

“Yeah.” You pat his shoulder before letting it go, opting to hold your cooling cup. “I know you’re a Michelin star fuckin’ big deal but like, me personally, I can’t name a thing I got perfect the first time I did it.”

There’s something in his eyes, when you say that. Something wistful, nostalgic, hurt? No. Something different.

“It’s not that I didn’t do perfect—”

“You’ll do better next time.”

He wrings his hands together between his knees. “Yeah.”

“You’re gonna be fine, Carm.”

“You’re good at that.” He sniffs, head down, scratching his nose.

“At what? Self-help?”

He exhales what just barely sounds like a laugh. “Kinda. S’just, when you say it, you say it in a way where I actually believe it.”

You’re getting the fuck out of here before they open for dinner. You’re not letting anyone down tonight motherfucker. The Berf shall prevail. Maybe a win here will feel like a win for Carmen, too.

You run the sink to wash your hands, as you’ve done before here— But since fixing the pipes and the pressure… Something’s… different. You pause your scrubbing, listening closely.

…

When the sink is running, the gurgling flow of water from the toilet stops. Huh. You stop and start the faucet a few times to verify this. Yeah. You stare for a long moment before connecting the dots, then punch the sink in realization.

“Fucking Mikey!”

“What’d he do this time?”

You twist around. Ah, other sibling. Natalie. Clipboard in hand, business ready. You take a beat before remembering to smile, nodding to the sink behind you. “He connected the tank flow to the toilet and the sink with one wire.”

She tilts her head, squinting. “Why would he do that?”

“I suspect to save water?” You spin around, kneeling down to look behind the sink. “I think the idea was to have the sink not function when the toilet is flushing. But, it uh, well, did the reverse, kinda. Toilet doesn’t function when the sink isn’t running.”

“Oh.”

“So uh,” You shut the valve under the sink. “Your water bill should go down a little after this, since it won’t be running into what is an essentially a second trap pipe.”

“Oh!” Did she get what you said? No. But she doesn't need to. She heard ‘bill should go down’ and that’s really all she needed. “Thank you!”

“Not a problem. S’my job.” You stand, shutting off the valve to the toilet as well. As you kneel down to work again, you feel her gaze burning into your back. You don’t turn to face her. “You have questions.”

“Oh, ah… Am I so obvious—?”

“Yes.” You’re too quick to answer, unbolting the wires where it attaches to the toilet and the ground. You sniff with a panicked, “Ah, uh, it’s endearing.”

She’s quiet, for a moment. She doesn’t ask you what she actually wants to ask you, and you know that. “Well, I’ll need to exchange info for your invoice.”

“Ah, don’t worry ‘bout that, your brother already covered it.” You stand once more, before going to the sink to undo it’s valve, you fish through the deep pocket of your jumpsuit, pulling out a crumpled business card and handing it to her.

“But it’s good to have my info on hand, for sure. It’s ah… Kinda old.” Kinda is an understatement. Your dad’s name is still on it, scribbled out in pen and replaced with yours. The dead business line is also scribbled out in exchange for your personal cell.

“It’s uh… I usually only work for friends and family, these days, so I’ve kinda stopped trying to keep up appearances.”

She smiles at it. Thank God, she finds it charming and not sloppy. She tucks it into the clasp of her clipboard. “That’s fine, we are friends and family.”

All you can do is nod, pivoting to the sink. There's a beat of peace.

“Didn’t see you at the funeral.”

Ah. There it is. For a Bear, she sure knows how to poke one. You stutter in unscrewing the bolt.

“Would’ve been nice to meet you, then.”

You clear your throat, it's strangled. “Yeah, I think I was trying to avoid introductions, honestly. Grief comes in different ways, eh?”

“Does it?”

“Mine does.” You swallow, unbolting the wire. With it free, you can just yank it out of the wall. God, forgive your brain, but Mikey was right, she does like to fight. Too bad you don’t.

She just hums in reply, watching you pull the wire from the wall. “You’re a real lifesaver.”

Fuck. Fuck. Lifesaver? Is she fucking with you?

“That toilet sprayed me right in the face, yesterday. And you saved Carmen.” There’s an amused lilt to her voice. She’s not fucking with you. “There’s something about a handywoman that Fak cannot match.”

You can hear a faint ‘Hey!’ through the walls. You laugh through an exhale.

“Again, s’my job. I do my best. Did uh, what was it, Terry come by for the walk-in? I wasn’t looking when I was there.”

You sort through your tools, deciding caulking the holes closed is probably the best option.

“He came over basically overnight to fix it, bless him, still don’t know his name.”

You laugh, it’s a little strangled. So Carmen did stay overnight. He must’ve. You smooth out the caulk with your thumb and a palette knife. Blending it into the grout as best as you can. “Good. Good.”

You dust yourself off. Standing. “Well. That’s uh. That’s my job done. Carmen asked me about—”

“Bolting down the booths?” She nods, checking the time on her watch. There’s not enough time before lunch to do it now. Plus you don’t have the screws. “You’re free to come by in the morning tomorrow—”

“But?” You interrupt, throwing your tool bag over your shoulder.

“But?”

“You said free like you’ve got a preference, what do you prefer?”

She chuckles, slightly. There is something about you that feels familiar. “If you could come after close tonight around 12, that would be nice—”

“It’s done. I’ll be there.”

“Lifesaver. I'll give you the code.”

Fuck.

Always gotta give the reader/mc some sort of mysterious background that even you don't have all the info on. Always.

Hehehehe, again, we're slowing this burn so much. Strangers to Friends to lovers but they're both so comfortable in friends it's hard to move !!

Forewarning, btw, if you've already sunk 10k worth of words into your brain for me (thank you!! I hope you've enjoyed!!), I've never written smut before and I feel like I probably will not build up the courage to do so by the end of this series, but I could prove myself wrong, I dunno. But warning in case that's your thing!! I might blue ball you babe!!

Pretty please tell me your thoughts or I'll eat my Berf shirt. Collector's value!! Thrown away!!

Next Part

#carmen berzatto imagine #carmy berzatto #carmy x reader #carmen x reader #carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto x you #carmen berzatto #the bear fx #carmy the bear #the bear x you #the bear #the bear x reader #the bear fanfiction

195 notes · View notes

alotofpockets · 5 months

Text

Spilled coffee | Natasha Romanoff

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x Reader

Prompts: "Here, let me help." & "Take my jacket."

Warnings: Bad work environment, and a slightly suggestive ending.

A/n: A special thank you to @catasha for helping me with the direction of this fic 💗

Masterlist | Marvel masterlist | Words: 2.7k

Whoever made it so that you would be in charge of getting the staff coffee before the Monday morning meeting with the big bosses, was currently your worst enemy. The line at the coffee shop was long, and moving slowly. You were looking at your watch every five seconds, knowing that you were going to be screwed if you were late to the meeting.

Finally it was your turn, “Hi, sorry, I have a big order.” The barista shrugs, “I’ll be here all day anyways, what can I get for you?” You read out all the orders from the note in your phone, and she starts working on them right away. You thank her and with five minutes on the clock, you exit the coffee shop, two trays filled with coffee cups in your hands.

Out of nowhere someone's body runs into your side, it takes all of your focus to keep the coffees in your hand from spilling. You manage to successfully keep the eight cups upright without spilling a drop, however that couldn’t be said about the person that ran into you. Their coffee dripped from your shoulder down the sleeve of your blazer. The thickness of the blazer luckily prevents the hot liquid from touching your skin.

You look up to apologize to the stranger. You hadn’t seen them coming, so it might have been your fault, despite the fact that you were the one covered in the spilled coffee. “Watch where you’re going.” He nearly shouts your way before rushing off, the now empty cup thrown on the floor. You shake your head at the angry stranger, as you look around for somewhere to place your trays.

“Here, let me help.” The voice is coming from behind you. A woman approaches you with napkins in her hand, she must have seen what happened. She takes the trays from your hands, and gives you the napkins in exchange. “Thank you.” You smile at the stranger, her kindness a stark contrast to that of your previous stranger encounter. “Which direction are you headed in?” She asks as you throw away the napkins, and the empty cup that the man had dropped, into a nearby trash can. “The offices in that direction.” You point in the direction of your office building. “Oh, me too. Can I walk with you?” The woman intrigued you, so you told her, “Yes, of course, I am kind of in a rush though.” She smiles and hands you back only one of the trays, carrying the other one for you. “All good, we can talk on the way.”

The walk was short, you hoped to spend more time with the beautiful stranger, but you also knew that if you were going to be any later than you already were, you would most likely get fired. You arrive in front of your office building, seeing your reflection in the glass makes you sigh loudly, “My boss is going to actually kill me.” Without a second thought the woman places down the tray she was holding on the steps to the building. “Take my jacket.” She was already taking off the jacket before you could decline her offer. Just as you put on her jacket, you’re buzzed into the building. “I’m sorry, I have to head in right away. Thank you so much, and it was really nice to meet you…” - “Natasha.” She fills in. “Y/n.” You say with a smile before rushing in with the two trays of coffee.

You rush up the stairs, careful not to spill the coffee, as you quickly make your way to the meeting room. The meeting had already started when you walked in. All eyes were on you, “I’m sorry there was a long line.” Your boss sends you a stern look, “Don’t let this happen again.” You nod, and take your place amongst your coworkers.

It wasn’t until your lunch break, that you realized you had no way to give Natasha back her jacket. Besides knowing her first name, and that she worked in the same general direction, you didn’t know much about her. You sit down at your desk for the first time this morning, opening up your laptop to start working on one of the cases you were assisting on.

When you felt like you had gotten a lot of work done, you decided to take a short break, stretch your legs and get a snack. You pocket your wallet and phone, and decide to take a small stroll around the building. The weather was nice out, so it was nice that you were able to take a moment to enjoy it. At the small corner store down the block, you head in and grab a few snacks. As you take out your wallet something falls out of your pocket, you reach down to grab it realizing it’s a business card holder. You pocket it quickly so you can pay, and not hold up the line.

Once you’re outside, you take the business card holder out of the pockets again, hoping that it would maybe give you a clue as to where to find Natasha. The case was engraved with the letters NR, you open the case and pull out one of the cards. You freeze when you read the card.

Natasha RomanoffCEO, Romanoff Resolute Law

The woman that helped you was the CEO of one of the biggest competitors of the law firm you work at. She had walked you to your office, so she definitely knew you worked for the competitor as well. So, you decide to call the number at the bottom of the card nonetheless.

“Romanoff Resolute Law, this is Laura speaking, how may I help you today?” You pocket the business cards again, and continue your walk back to your office. “Hi Laura, I’m y/n, is there any way you can transfer me to Natasha? I have some items that I need to return to her.” Laura asks to put you on hold for one moment. You’re almost back at your office when she gets back to you. “Thank you for holding, I’m transferring you now. Have a good day.” You thank her and wish her a good day as well. “Hi y/n, glad to hear that your boss hasn’t killed you.” Natasha jokes on the other side of the phone. You laugh, “Yeah, you’re a total lifesaver, thank you. So, since I was in such a rush this morning, I totally forgot to ask for a way to return your jacket. Luckily I found your business cards in your jacket pocket. So, yeah, I was wondering how I could give you your jacket back.” Natasha smiles at the idea of your face when you saw where she worked. “Well, I’m really glad you found a way to contact me. Would you be down for dinner tonight?” Your heart started beating faster at the thought of having dinner with the beautiful woman. “I don’t usually go out for dinner with the competition but I guess I could make an exception for you.” You joke back with her. “Great, well let me give you my personal number so you can text me when you’re done, and I will pick you up at your office.”

When you were nearing the end of your workday, you were excited to meet up with Natasha. The woman intrigued you, and no matter if this dinner was just a dinner or a date, you knew that you wanted to get to know her better. You were about to text her when someone knocked on your door, “I need you to go over this case, and have it on my desk by tomorrow morning at 9am, with your notes, and possible strategies to take.” You grunt when your boss is out of the door again before you can even object. Not that objecting would help, you had tried many times, saying that it was unreasonable to let you stay late to do the work.

Y/n: Hey Natasha, I have to stay later to finish up some work. Maybe we can reschedule?

Natasha: Hi, not a problem at all, I still have some work to do as well. Text me when you’re done and we can see if we can still grab a bite then?

Y/n: Sounds good, I’ll let you know.

An hour and a half later, you have finally finished all the notes on the case and had two different strategies prepared. You shoot Natasha a quick text to see if she’s still down, and you get an answer almost immediately, telling you that she will meet you in front of your office in ten minutes.

“I know a great place around the corner, want to go there?” She asks after you have greeted each other. “Honestly, I’m starving, so I’m down for anything.” Natasha guides you to the restaurant, it wasn’t anything like you were expecting in this part of town, but you loved it. The restaurant had a homey, and warm feeling. One of the waitresses heads in your direction, “Hey Natasha, it’s good to have you back. Table for two tonight?” Natasha smiles in her direction, “Yes please.” The woman leads you to a table near the window and hands you both a menu. “Thank you, Morgan.”

“So, on a first name basis with the staff, that’s impressive.” You start the conversation back up. “Yeah, I’ve spent quite some long nights at the office here for a quick bite. They have the best food around, in my opinion.” She points out her favorite menu items, and you decide to go for one of them. The two of you order, and fall into conversation easily.

Natasha is the first to ask you about your work. “So, what kind of work do you do for the firm?” You set your glass back down before you answer. “I’m an associate attorney.” Her brows furrow, “What is an associate attorney doing getting coffee for the office?” You shrug, “The secretary quit a week ago, and they haven’t found a replacement yet. Somehow I was assigned to pick up those tasks.” Natasha shakes her head, “That’s horrible, you have your own work to do. They can’t expect you to pick up the secretaries' work as well.” It was nice to finally hear someone being on your side. “Yeah, I’ve been telling them that too but they just won’t listen. Honestly, I get so frustrated by them. I’m working my ass off, even performing tasks outside of my job description, and still I’m the only one not getting promoted.” Natasha listens to you rant about your frustrations, having started out in smaller first herself, she recognized the behavior you were talking about all too well. “Come work for me.”

You freeze at her words. “What?” Maybe you hadn’t heard her correctly. “I mean it, you deserve a better work environment. I’ve been where you’re at, sexist bosses, and all. I believe that I have created a better environment over the years, and we’re always looking for passionate and hard working people. Come work for me.” You cannot believe that she is actually offering you a job right now. “You’re actually being serious?” You ask, still a bit weary. “I am. I would hire you on the spot but I don’t have the right paperwork with me.” She sends you a cheeky smile. You laugh, “I cannot believe a spilled coffee led to a job offer at one of the top law firms in the city.”

“You’re interested then?” Natasha asks after thanking Morgan for bringing out the food. “Yes, yes I am.” You confirm. “I know today has been a long day but if you want I can give you a tour of the office, see if you’d actually like it, and talk about what we can offer if you decide to sign.” You agree to the offer. But first you enjoy the delicious food, and get to know Natasha better.

At Romanoff Resolute Law Natasha shows you around the office space, while she tells you a bit about the people that work there. You can instantly tell that she knows these employees as people, and not just as people that work for her, and it gives you a good feeling. “So, that’s it.” She says as the two of you enter her office once more. “Great, so where do I sign.” Natasha laughs, “Don’t you want to hear about salary, and benefits before you sign?” She jokes back. Natasha told you that she could offer you a position as an associate attorney for the time being, with a higher income that you were currently getting, just to get to know the company a bit more, and that if things went well you would be promoted to senior associate attorney in no time. She had listed all the benefits, and honestly it was an offer that you simply couldn’t refuse, even if you were wanting too, which wasn’t the case.

“There’s one more thing.” Natasha says, once she has written down everything you had just discussed. “I hope that you coming to work for me, doesn’t mean that I can’t ask you on a second date because I would really like to take you on a second date.” You smile at the way she has worded her sentence. “I would really like a second date as well.”

Four months later, you are thoroughly enjoying working for Romanoff Resolute Law, the work environment was great. Everyone looked out for one another, and you all worked together to get extra work done instead of piling it on the desk of one person. Things with Natasha had been going good as well, after a couple of dates she had asked you to be her girlfriend. Your work environment was so great, that the rest of the employees were simply happy for the both of you. None of the employees assumed you were going to get better treatment since you were in a relationship with your boss, which showed how good of a boss Natasha was to all of them, giving her employees the confidence that they were always treated fairly.

Laura walked up to your desk, “Natasha wants to see you in her office once you have a moment.” You smile and thank her for letting you know. A little over five minutes later you knock on Natasha’s door. “Y/n, hi, come in.” She smiles and points at one of the chairs for you to take a seat in. You and Natasha had always kept a professional relationship on the workfloor, both agreeing that that was the healthiest way for both your relationship and the company. “I know we’ve already spoken about it in private, but for legal reasons, I want to ask you in a professional setting as well. How are you enjoying your time here?” You tell her that you have loved working for the company, and about how you had found your love for the job again. Natasha listens to you with a smile on her face, so happy that she was able to provide you with a healthy working environment.

“That’s very good to hear. I want to let you know that we are very happy with your work as well. You’ve shown great progress with the clients and your knowledge of the company, therefore I would like to officially offer you the senior associate attorney position.” Your jaw dropped, of course Natasha had mentioned that if things went well, the promotion would be a possibility, but you had not expected it to be so soon. “Thank you so much, you don’t know how much this means to me.” Natasha nods knowingly, “I’ll have Laura bring you the papers later today. Congratulations, y/n, I know you will continue to make me, and the company, very proud.”

You stand up, feeling like you’re on cloud nine, you are finally able to accomplish your career goal of climbing up the corporate ladder. Before you open the door to leave Natasha’s office, she comes to stand by your side. “Let’s celebrate tonight, I want to show you just how proud I am of you.” She whispers into your ear, her voice low and lustfull. Her words leave you flustered, as she opens her office door to send you on your merry way.

💗 If you enjoyed this fic, please consider supporting me by leaving a tip 💗

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #ceo!natasha #natasha romanoff imagine #marvel x reader #marvel imagine #mcu x reader #mcu imagine #natasha x reader #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow imagine

348 notes · View notes

spookychick78 · 11 months

Text

OG Michael Myers One Shot

A little continuation of the parking garage one shot as requested by the lovely @slasherhoe87 🖤🔪

also, its becoming glaringly obvious how much of a Myers simp I am with how much shit I’ve written about this man.

OG!Michael Myers X AFAB!Reader

Warnings: (Y’all knew this was coming) NSFW, Knife play, blood play, choking

Word Count: 3,697

In the following weeks, (Y/n) couldn't stop thinking of the man in the mask. She found herself searching for him around every corner, down every alley way and through every window. It hadn't taken her long to put it together that whoever he was had been the one causing that undeniable feeling of being watched, but why? He had left her with so many questions and now close to a month since it had happened, she wondered if she would ever get answers.

She put her car in park and exited into the cool night air. The parking garage that had so often than not made her uneasy had begun to excite her every time she came home. Though, that night her excitement had started to fade. He was never there and honestly, she wondered if maybe he had been a figment of her imagination after all. She hurried towards the little room with the elevators and as she opened the door she turned and gave the empty lot one more lingering glance. Nothing.

Michael scoffed as he watched her. She wasn't quite as adept as he was at finding her obsession, though he found her efforts amusing. How funny it was that he had become her obsession, he thought to himself. He took note of her constantly wandering eyes that almost always fell in his direction, unaware that he was indeed there, hidden in the shadows. She had been close several times, but it had become a game to him and one Michael was inevitably better at than she was. He had more patience. Usually. However, it was wearing thin. He too hadn't been able to forget the night he had shown himself to her. It had undoubtedly been a mistake to touch her. The feeling of her skin against his hand, though the exchange was mere seconds, had ignited a desire within him he didn't know he was capable of possessing. Michael couldn't deny himself much longer, he wanted to know her and more than just by the surface level knowledge he'd managed to obtain by just watching. Observing from a distance no longer satisfied him, he wanted more. He wondered if she would be frightened when she finally found what she was looking for. Part of him hoped she would be, fear had looked so delicious on her and he hadn't even been the one to cause it, not entirely. He wanted that pleasure, but he wouldn't end her life. Perhaps he would bring her to the brink of death or perhaps he'd let those carnal thoughts guide him elsewhere. He had never given into them before, he wasn't even sure he had ever had them until he saw her. It was maddening not to know what exactly it was about her that had lured him in so completely. Maybe it was how petite she was in comparison to him, Michael did enjoy feeling larger than life. He knew if he was to wrap his hands around her throat they would all but engulf her. His frame pressed against her's could minimize her being so entirely that she would practically disappear from existence within his arms. Or maybe it was the challenge that excited him to the point of discomfort within his coveralls. He would have to exercise restraint like he never had before in order for her to survive being so entangled with him, because in reality he could end her life in seconds if he didn't. Her fate and possible demise would be in his hands the moment they met her skin once more. The entirety of their proverbial 'moon dance' would cascade along that ever thinning line between life and death. He wondered if she had any idea of the fire she was playing with, head canted to the side as he watched her eyes scan the empty garage in search of him once again.

She let out a frustrated sigh and let the door swing shut behind her. She pressed the button for the elevator, just once this time. She intended to waste as much time as humanly possible just in case he appeared. The doors began to separate, filling the room with their high pitched squeaking and she decided to give up on her search for the night. She slipped inside the cabin and reluctantly pressed the button for her floor. She leaned her back against the wall as she watched the doors close in on each other. Before each end could meet, they creaked to a halt. A hand had come between them, it retracted once the doors began to move outward. They were slower than ever as they reopened and she impatiently craned her neck to catch a glimpse of whom she would be sharing the brief ride upwards with, but found no one was there. She furrowed her brows and took a step forward. Before she could look out the doors, she was pushed back against the wall with a hand around her throat. After the initial shock had worn off, she looked up to see the white mask with the blackest holes looking down on her once again. He held her in place as the doors squeaked shut. After he was certain they were closed, he released his grip on her. (Y/n)'s chest heaved up and down as she struggled to catch the breath he'd knocked out of her.

"It's you," she panted.

She wasn't quite sure if it was fear or unbridled excitement she was feeling, but she surmised it was a dangerous, possibly deadly combination of the two that made her quickly reach her hand past him and lock the elevator. She quickly drew her arm back in and pressed herself back against the wall.

Michael slowly turned his head to see what she had done, moderately impressed by the confidence she had just displayed by assuming he wouldn't kill her. He returned his gaze to her and smirked behind his mask when he saw that subtle hint of fear hidden within her eyes. So she wasn't totally confident, but curious enough to trust him. He would have reminded her that it was curiosity that killed the cat, but he wasn't going to grant her the pleasure of hearing his voice, yet. She would have to be the one to end the silence between them if she had the courage to do so.

She had so many questions, but each of them seemed so nonsensical given the fact that he had never uttered a single word to her. She was almost certain he wouldn't answer any of them, but she had to say something. After waiting so long for this moment, it only seemed wrong to waste it.

"Who," she started, but stopped and rethought the first words she wanted to say, "why did you save me from that man? Why did you kill him but not me?"

Michael tilted his head. Would she have preferred he hadn't? It wasn't necessarily that he had saved her, he wasn't even sure that was the right word. Saving her for himself maybe, that would have been a better way to describe it. Someone had merely threatened to take her before he could and Michael wasn't one to share. She would soon learn that, if he hadn't made it clear enough for her before, he was about to. She waited so patiently for a response, her (e/c) eyes seemingly trying to decipher his features behind the mask without physically removing it. Her curiosity made her appear so innocent as she gazed up at him, inadvertently fueling his desire to take that innocence for himself. Though he had to admit, he found it somewhat endearing that she was so entranced by him she didn't even realize the position she could have possibly put herself in, were he not so obsessed with her in his own regard. He brought his hand up to her cheek as he had done before, but this time he let his fingertips explore the softness of her skin. She was truly delicate, he thought to himself as he let them wander down to her lips. She parted them for him. He raised his eyebrows behind his mask as he traced her bottom lip, just barely allowing himself inside her mouth, and felt moisture coat the top of his fingers. He brought his hand up to study his own skin that had been wet by her, the sight of that alone brought an urge to taste her to the surface.

"Who are you?" She asked as she watched his silent observation.

His eyes shot back to her. She had asked that once before, only now he was more willing to oblige her with an answer, to some degree. It was purely based on his own desire, but it might satisfy her questions for the time being. He brought both hands to the back of his mask and slowly peeled the rubber off of himself. He kept his head down and observed what was for the majority of the world his face in his own hands, but for her and only her, he would show himself as he truly was. He knelt down and gently set it aside before towering above her again. As he lifted his head, he told himself he was only doing it because he needed to if he was going to do what he was about to do, that was all. Though even Michael knew there was a part of him that felt she was deserving, even if he couldn't explain why.

(Y/n)'s face started to heat up when she realized the man behind the mask was undoubtedly handsome. He was much younger than she had expected he would be, it seemed he wasn't far off from her age. He had dark curls that framed his near perfectly structured face, the only imperfection being the scar that ran through one of his eyes. His jaw was clenched as though he was somewhat nervous under her gaze, but that subtle movement of his muscles accentuated his prominent jawline further. His brows were knit together in an almost disapproving way over his expressionless eyes, one blue, one milky white and his mouth kept tightly shut as she studied him. Each feature had such a unique and unexplainable draw that she found herself wanting to touch him, to further inspect the ever so silent and stoic man before her. Her hand wandered up, but before she could touch him, he flinched and those disapproving brows furrowed tighter than before. She held her hand in place midair as she watched him contemplate the interaction. He blinked his eyes as he studied her hand, then turned his gaze to meet her's, granting her passage to continue. She slowly reached forward and let her fingertips touch his cheek first, then steadily rested her palm over him to hold the side of his face in her hand. His eyes flickered shut and his brows relaxed at the strange new sensation. She was warm against his cool skin and he found himself resting in her touch, his head fell slightly to the side to give in further. She watched, fascinated by the way he seemed to relish in the minimal contact as if he had been starved a lifetime for it. He finally opened his eyes and took her hand in his to bring it to his lips. He didn't kiss her fingers, he simply brushed them over his skin, unsure of what exactly it was he wanted to do. Her skin was so soft.

"Won't you tell me your name?" She said softly.

Needy, he thought to himself as he began to kiss her fingers. He told himself he'd only tell her so he could hear how it sounded coming from her mouth.

"Michael," he whispered back.

"Michael," she repeated gently.

It sounded better than he'd expected in her breathy, distracted tone and it fanned those flames she'd lit within him further. Her fingers were no longer satisfying him, he needed to explore her further. He wanted her to say his name again against his lips. He dropped her hand and reached both of his forward to cup her face as he pressed his body against her's and engulfed her lips in a kiss so hungry it made her knees weak. As she melted into it she couldn't help but notice the desperation he had for her pressed up against the top of her thigh. She wasn't sure how much he would allow her to do, but as if he had read her mind, he took her arms and draped them over his shoulders in one swift movement before his hands returned to her face. She took some liberty and tangled her fingers in the curls that hung just above the back of his neck. As she tugged on his hair, Michael pressed harder against her and paid no mind to the moan that escaped his lips. He had been absolutely right, restraining himself was going to be a challenge, one more difficult than he'd expected. He wanted so badly to hear her say his name again, but this time he wanted her to cry it out. He needed to regain some control, because she had more than he realized she would with the way her fingers sent chills down his spine every time she pulled on his locks. Then she shifted against him, rubbing him so that it made him ache in such a devastatingly good way. His hand instinctively flew to her throat and wrapped itself around it in a tight embrace. She let out a gasp and he smirked against her kiss, it was the power shift he needed to know he was still in control no matter what she did or what he wanted her to do to him. He broke away from her, hand still tightly wound around her neck to keep her in place against the wall. He watched a smiled spread across her face as he struggled to catch his uneven breath. He wasn't sure what he liked more, to see her frightened or to see her look so proud of what she was doing to him. Her pride reignited that challenge he so adored, it made him want to force her to unravel, to bring her to the brink of death, but in a different way. He would make her beg for mercy and after he was done with her, she would beg for more. A smile of his own spread across his face as he reached his free hand into his pocket to retrieve his knife. When he revealed it to her he delighted in the way her smile fell and fear flickered in her eyes. He brought it down to the bottom of her dress and removed his hand from her throat to pull the material taut before he took the blade and sliced the fabric upwards. The sound of it ripping bounced off of the elevator's walls and combined with her accelerated breath, Michael was entranced. He finally reached the top and let the knife continue it's ascent upwards until the blade rested underneath her chin. She craned her neck up with it and looked at him with that same hint of excitement he'd seen in her when he first entered. She watched his grip tighten on the knife's handle until his knuckles turned pale as if he was fighting the urge to plunge it into her. She hesitantly brought her hands up to his and guided the knife to the side of her neck. If he was going to kill her he would have by now and by this point she was just as eager as he was to continue this dance, so her next words came perhaps a little too easy.

"I trust you, Michael," she breathed as she guided his knife down the side of her neck.

His was captivated by the sight of her blood dripping out from under his blade and down to her shoulder. His pupils became overblown as his desire reached its boiling point. He cast the knife aside and grabbed her by her shoulders to flip her around. He ripped her dress from her body and quickly did away with the rest of the cloth so that no part of her was hidden. He grabbed a fistful of her hair, pulled her back against him and craned her neck back so he could drag his tongue up towards the cut she had allowed him to give her. He collected her blood in his mouth then focused his attention on the wound, sucking with such brutality she could already feel the bruise he would leave forming under his lips. Once he had cleaned her with his tongue, he pushed her forward so that her cheek was pressed against the wall. The sound of his zipper being pulled down filled her ears and in turn, filled her with such a buzzing excitement she could barely wait the few seconds it took for him to free himself. Finally, she felt him line himself up at her entrance and without warning, he invaded her with one firm thrust that shook her to her core. Pain intermingled with a burning and intense pleasure unlike any she had felt before. He hung his head over her shoulder and the sound of his uneven breath filled her ear as he began to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. She struggled to keep her balance as he rocked into her and he seemed to take note. He wrapped an arm around her and rested his other hand against the wall, steadying the both of them as he continued his pursuit to leave her in shambles. At the same time, he himself was overwhelmed by the pleasure her tightly wound body was granting him. Sensations crept upwards from where their bodies met and into his core, tangling together inside of him like knots on the verge of snapping. His hand against the wall balled into a fist, tightening in tandem with those knots as he pushed himself inside of her with more force than before. Her head fell back against him and a cry ripped from her throat, along with a slew of praises. It was then he got what he wanted.

"Michael," she cried out as her face contorted into an expression that could only be described as pained bliss.

He was almost too much for her to take, his size combined with the intensity of his movements made her burn in a way she hadn't before. That searing sensation made her shake in his grip as he pummeled the sweet spot nestled deep inside of her. She desperately needed something to cling to as she neared the edge. She wasn't sure her legs would hold. Her hand flew back in search of his shoulder, but she barely had a sense of direction at that point.

"Michael," she keened once more as she clutched at the blue cloth of his coveralls tightly.

Without warning, he ceased his movements and removed himself from her, causing her to whine from the sudden empty feeling he'd so cruelly left her with. He flipped her around and swiftly hoisted her up so her legs could wrap around his waist. He lowered her back onto him and once he was certain she wouldn't fall, he let his hands find the back of her head so he could force her lips to his again. His fingers tangled in her hair as he attempted to keep her lips on his, but at the pace he was going, it was anything but neat. Still, she returned his sloppy kisses with the utmost enthusiasm as she felt herself approaching her climax. She reached behind her head and guided his hand in between their bodies to a spot he hadn't yet discovered. She placed his calloused fingers over her clit and guided them in little circles. It didn't take long for him to get the hang of it, but still, he followed her lead. With each circle their fingers drew together he could feel her body tightening around him more so than he thought possible. Before long, she broke their kiss and he watched her head fall back, mouth agape as her body fluttered around him. Somewhere between the way she looked, the sound of his name falling from her lips like a prayer and the trembling of her body around his, Michael came completely and utterly undone. His head fell into the crevice between her shoulder and neck as his body all but collapsed into her. It was a concerted effort to maintain his hold on her, but he did and he made sure his grip was tight around her thighs.

"(Y/n)," she heard him breath into her ear before he spilled into her.

She didn't even stop to think about the fact that she hadn't once told him her name, all she could focus on was the way his breath felt on her skin, the burn of fresh bruises on her thighs and how wonderful it felt to have been undeniably marked by him. Michael would never admit it out loud, but in a way, she had claimed him for her own as well. Though his movements had ceased, he didn't want to leave her warmth. He breathed in her scent and pressed his lips to her shoulder as she draped her arms around his neck. There was no doubt she was in shambles, just as he had intended, but he feared he was in a far worse state than he had been in before. When he lifted his head up to look at her once more, that only worsened it. Her face was flushed, her hair disheveled and her eyes were glassy as she smiled lazily at him. He felt his chest tighten in a strange way as she leaned in to press a chaste kiss to his lips, gentle as rain. Obsessed was now an understatement.

#Michael Myers #michael my beloved #michael audrey myers #michael myers x reader #michael myers smut #og michael myers #slasher #slasher smut #slasher fandom #slasher x reader #HORROR SMUT #horror fiction #slasher fucker #my husband

433 notes · View notes

wil-dearest · 7 months

Text

Anonymous asked: ok 🫣🫣 reader reading a * spicy * book and wilbur seeing them…. hehe

Mhm mhm, i see your point. Enjoy

trigger warning: the book you are reading has explicit smut in it and well its a little filthy at the end. but 18+.

brought to you by wil-dearest, may i present absolute horseshit

Kiss the Cook

In your defense, the book had been gifted to you by an older cousin who gave you a sly wink, telling you to enjoy. Your love for reading wasn't private information and had this been any other occasion and not your birthday, you most likely would've never read it. (Somehow, your relatives never get what you like. So they sit on a bookshelf as they collect dust and you sit on the idea of donating them.) And also because your cousin texted you saying the main lead was your type. And so if he was?

Here we are, three months after your birthday and you're sitting on at the dining table, reading. Your boyfriend, Wilbur, had been sweet enough that he wanted to make dinner by himself. And with the free time that's been so generously given, you give the book a shot.

Big mistake, after the first two chapters, it gets steamy.

Her head tipped back, with Jeremy's mouth teasing her skin, every touch and every bite he leaves spins her vision. "You understand now, what you do to me is torture." Even his voice, vibrating against the column of her throat, her mouth parts with a gasp. She does understand now.

She can't focus clearly but with the way his hands burn as they grip her thighs, wrapping them around his waist and his cock bumping against her entrance, it's as if her nerves had been lit on fire. The first push drives her nails into his skin and he smooths her hair down, hardly biting his moans back. "Ever since I met you," he gasps, interrupting himself as his hips twitch, "I couldn't get you out of my head. You consumed my being, every waking second." Maybe it'd been the wine, maybe it'd been the careless flirting because why would it ever be more than flirting remarks, it doesn't matter. All Nikki knows right now is how good it feels with him inside her.

You had to put the book down for a moment and cover your face, giggling a little bit to yourself. What the fuck had that been? You peek through fingers and eye the book, biting down on a bottom lip. You'll continue, you decided. Picking up the book, though, Wilbur came out to greet you, his hair a little run-through, like he was pulling the edges again. "How's the book?" He asks, smiling as he leaned in for a quick kiss. Your eyes closed as you hummed, not at all hiding your blush and your smile.

"It's not what I thought it was going to be." You answer, not at all wanting to admit that you just found out the book you're reading leans more into the erotic genre.

"Different?" He asks, his hand coming up and cupping the back of your head as he kissed your cheek. You nod. "And not a bad different?" He kisses your other cheek, drinking up your soft laughter. "Good, then you know where to find me," he pulls back, smiling at you. His thumb comes up to graze your cheek, where he kissed it. He kisses you one last time before heading back inside the kitchen.

You sigh dreamily, wondering how you ever managed to charm him with your tendencies to be a hermit. It cannot be helped, you'll just have to accept you've accidentally cursed him or something. Moving on from real life romance, you turn your eyes back down to the inconspicuous novel. It couldn't hurt to read a little more.

About thirty minutes later, Wilbur decides he's taken long enough and serves two bowls, taking the steaming meals and finding you so engrossed into the novel, you hadn't even noticed him. Now he's not one to be jealous of a book, but just how good can it be when it wasn't your taste? (Yes, he'd been privy to that lovely rant with relatives and their gifting habits.)

He comes around and he had to double-check his eyes were working before he came to terms with the truth. You've been reading erotica.

He starts to mumble the words, "Nikki sobs as she tries to clenches her thighs," you gasp, your head looks over your shoulder, unable to move too much to avoid hitting his head, "overwhelmed by the constant pleasure. His tongue was simply too much, circling her clit and sucking on it before moving the two fingers inside of her again-" you drop the book, covering his mouth even as he tries to read it still, and you had little doubt you look flustered beyond all reason.

"What are you doing!?" You shriek, turning in your seat as you hid your face in his neck, trying to strangle and simultaneously hug him. His laughter is a deep vibration that tickles you while you held onto him, your own nerves lit on fire as his arms circle around your waist.

"Well I came to tell you dinner was ready," he nods to the steaming bowls and then his teasing eyes turned back to you and you dive your head back into his collarbones, "but you didn't even see me. I could see why now."

"Hush." Your voice comes out muffled and you do nothing to make yourself clearer.

"Dinner could always wait and we can recreate the scene in your book." He says pulling away from you and before you can say anything, he's dropped to his knees, his hair falling into his big eyes that stare into you as he nudges his face between your legs. You could hardly breathe with how he gets so close to your crotch, how his smile widens when he kisses your thigh and grips the other one with his- his fingers and you curse yourself for being so sensitive because all you want to do is moan his name. You cover your mouth even when he licks a stripe down the crotch of your jeans. You feel yourself trembling.

"Actually," he says, getting up a dizzying fashion, "I'll make sure to get dessert after dinner." His smile is downright predatory. How are you supposed to eat after all that?

#spencer writes #wilbur soot smut #gender neutral reader

169 notes · View notes

futbol16 · 1 year

Text

Hot chocolate • Barcelona Femení

I’m not super sure about this but I hope it manages to live up to your expectations!

Request: can we please get one with the barcelona fem team with this prompt for Y/N where they tell her ‘please, stay awake… please or promise us you’ll stay awake’, specifically from Ale and the older ones of the team

Word count: 2,5k

Your teeth chatter as you attempt to make yourself warmer on the bench of the locker room, your hands moving up and down your wet arms. It is half time and you watch as everyone dump their soaked shirts in the corner of the room and change into a new jersey.

The weather has been horrible, it’s been raining cats and dogs and the chill of the late evening only added to it. As the match went on it became harder for your team to pretend like they weren’t shivering, much less try to stay up on their feet as the pitch turned into a water park.

You wipe a few strands of wet hair from your forehead as you tug on a dry shirt, the material almost instantly becoming damp.

“You okay Y/N/N?” Sandra speaks up from next to you and she drapes an arm over your shoulders inviting you to lean into her. You instantly accept the invitation as you cuddle up to her, your knees against her thigh as you hold onto the hand hanging over your shoulder.

“Just cold.” you lightly shrug, your eyes fluttering closed for a second. The rain and the crisp weather had tired you out more than a first half usually would and it was obvious your teammates felt the same.

“I know pequeña, but we’re winning and we’ll quickly wrap up this game. Then after we can all enjoy a sweet hot chocolate, okay? I’ll even get you marshmallows for it!” the goalkeeper grins down at you and presses a kiss to your temple as you smile at her words, already thinking of the reward you’d get.

Your attention is brought back to Alexia and Jonatan as they say a few encouraging words and Paños squeezes your hand one last time before the two of you get up to follow the rest out.

Barca are no longer overly worried about the scoresheet because they’re already 4-0 up from the first half and goals only come quicker in the second half, yourself also slotting in two more. Team spirits are high and as the happiness spreads warmth throughout your body you almost forget about the frosty weather. Although you want to forget about it, you can’t because every time you stop running to catch your breath you’re shivering, water is spilling into your eyes and your kit is drenched, rain dripping from it onto the ground below. At this point you’re not even thirsty, the sky having solved that issue of yours.

Frido eyes your form with concern as you attempt to wipe the water from your line of sight before you take off in a sprint after one of the Rosengard players. The Swede doesn’t seem to be as affected by the weather as everyone else and she uses this to her advantage on the field, managing to stay upright more times than the Spaniards.

The blonde’s eyes connect with those of Ingrid, the Scandinavian gesturing to one of the players marking you and as she turns back to the Norwegian she sees Alexia also nodding at her. There’s a pause in the game as Rosengard gets a throw in and Rolfö takes this moment as her advantage to run up to her captain.

“She’s marking Y/N heavily, I don’t know what happened but she’s really aggressive.” the brunette informs her as she keeps her eyes on the ball. Irene and some of the other girls have good control over the situation and so she allows herself to share her thoughts with the other two.

“She’s taken her out three times in the past ten minutes, she’s clearly going for Y/N/N instead of the ball” Ingrid speaks up from next to them, her eyes holding just as much anger and fire as the other two. Frido chews on her lip as the ball goes out again, a Rosengard player running after it.

“What do we do?”

“Nothing. We keep an eye on her, Ana’s been glaring down from the bench since the start of the game but I don’t know how long this could go on for” the captain speaks, her hands on her hips as she watches you wriggle out of your opponent's hold. Irritation is evident on your face as you slip her hand off your wrist and move away from her.

Alexia pats them both on the back as she takes her position again, leaving the other two. The ball is yet again being thrown in by Rosenard, it seems like the rain has made it harder for them to keep the ball in play.

You manage to get Öling off you and as you’re finally open for a pass Aitana sends the ball to you. You’re aware of the players and your teammates around you as you run off towards the goal and as more surround you to defend their net you cross the ball to Alexia. It lands right in front of her feet and it takes her one touch to direct it into the back of the net.

You’re just about to celebrate with her when you feel cleats connect with your shin, the bright red boots of Öling whose face is full of aggression and venom as she grits her teeth while sliding across the grass. You try to catch yourself to stay on your feet but the field is soppy and as your feet put themselves one after the other you know you’re bound to slip at one point. It seems almost never ending as you wobble and Öling watches from her seated position by the goal line as you topple over after your fourth step.

Your foot slips out from under you and you reach out into the air, almost as if you wanted to hold onto something before you go crashing into the advertising boards and the railing at the end of the pitch. Your ears are blaring and your head is pounding as you groan into your arm and you slowly roll over to your back as you blink away the rain from your eyes.

You're met with Alexia’s face whose eyes are blown with panic and worry as she places a hand on your arm. You can see her mouth moving but you can’t hear anything she’s saying.

You’re vaguely aware of more of the girls around you running in slow motion as they drop to their knees next to you and you breathe in deeply as you shut your eyes tight. You groan aloud as your senses come back and you’re slapped in the face by the concerned voices of your friends, a rush in their words. As you open your eyes you look around you, willing the dizziness not to consume you.

The Barca girls watch you with fright as you lay on the ground almost motionless with blood seeping out of your head and coating your shirt and the grass below you.

“Y/N/N, bebé? Can you hear me querida?” Alexia’s voice breaks through the noise and you focus on her, slowly nodding as you grimace at the movement. Alexia is quick to shush you as your purple lips start trembling, her head whipping up to look at the rest.

Ana is shouting for the medics as she keeps a hand on your thigh, a reassurance that you’re still there as she also keeps an eye on your difficulty to keep yours open, wiggling your eyebrows as the blood trickles down your forehead.

She hurries the medics on for a second before her voice quietens down and she keeps her gaze on you, sniffling at the sight in front of her.

“Irene, she's gonna fall asleep!” Alexia is full-on panicking as she takes your hand into her grasp, the other one moving to wipe the water from your eyes, or tears, she’s not sure.

You whimper in pain as flashes of pain stab at your head and you move your hand up to your forehead only to have it moved away by someone else. Frido keeps your hand close to her heart as she feels the energy slowly drain from you and your fingers weakening around hers.

Your line of sight is blocked by another blonde as Mapi kneels next to your head and the defender cradles your head as she presses her lips together, trying to stay strong for you.

“Ale, Ale please do something!” her voice comes out shakily as she takes a glance at the brunette next to her who looks just as distraught.

“Where the hell are the medics?!” Irene exclaims angrily as she looks over to the team’s bench which is now abandoned as the whole Barca team ran to your aid.

Your teammates around you can only watch you with sorrow as you wither in pain and exhaustion, many of the girls hiding their faces in their soaking shirts. They can’t bear to see you in such a state and stand there helplessly.

“It hurts so much” your broken whisper is heard by those closest to you and you let out a strained sob as you shut your eyes tightly. Tears flow freely as you succumb to the pain bit by bit and you barely even feel the blood sliding down the side of your face.

“I know, I know bebé. Just hold on for a little while, just a little, please” Alexia presses a kiss to the back of your hand and she looks over to Mapi next to her. The defender wipes your forehead as gently as she can, careful of the wound as she swipes the blood before it could reach your eyebrows and her shaky hands smooth your hair back. You try your hardest to focus on the comforting gesture, to take your mind off everything you’re feeling in this moment but it’s all too much and another pained gasp leaves your parted lips.

Your team’s hearts break at the sight and the sound, many leaning into each other for support and you feel Ana’s thumb rubbing your thigh.

“They’re almost here, they aren’t running because of the wet field!” Marta’s accusatory voice sends chills down Irene’s back as the two watch the medics hurrying towards the scene. Ingrid and Sandra are pushing away any of the Rosengard players trying to get closer and the Norwegian makes sure to shove Öling just a bit harder, her usual calm nature long replaced with a wild hatred towards the Finnish woman.

Mapi leans down to connect your foreheads as she keeps a hand just barely touching the top of your head. The defender swallows hard as she hears your ragged breathing, her hand that’s still cradling your face trembles against your skin.

“Alexia” she whispers as she watches your eyes close. Alexia’s eyes water and she tightens her hold on your hand as she feels it go limp.

“No, mi corazón, please, stay awake… please or promise us you’ll stay awake” she’s crying now, not even paying attention to the medics as they move the girls away from your other side and lay the stretcher next to your body.

The brunette tries and fails to stifle her cries with her hand as she clamps it over her mouth but she’s too far gone as she hears the sobs of your other teammates. Her gaze stays on your face and she feels her breathing stop as your eyes don’t open again.

“No, no cariño, por favor!” Mapi wails, her tears mixing with the rain still falling from the sky and she shoots a warning glare at the medic who attempts to move her hand from your head.

“NO, no! Leave her alone, please cariño open your eyes, come on just for me, please!” her sobs travel through the arena as Irene pulls her away from you and your team watches as you’re rolled into the stretcher and carried off the field.

Alexia is left kneeling on the ground as her eyes bore into the splotches of blood on the green grass, splotches of your blood. She feels a hand on her shoulder and she’s up on her feet in an instant as she pushes the hand off her.

“This is all your fault!” she shouts and violently shoves the Finnish midfielder who falls back in surprise. “Tu puta madre! Vete al infierno!” she spits at Öling who only stares at her in fear.

“Ale, Alexia” Frido and Marta reach for her but she swats their hands away as she stomps towards the tunnel, unable to hide her vulnerability as she cries into her shirt. The team follows her, all with tears flowing down their cheeks and they stop in their steps as they hear the sirens of the ambulance as it drives down the street.

Jonatan gently nudges them to keep moving, the team’s coach not hiding his own tears either.

“Get changed quickly, the bus will take us to the hospital” he informs the girls who nod at him gratefully and once in the locker room, they pull off their wet jerseys with a heavy feeling in their hearts.

Most of them stay silent as they stare into the abyss, clambering onto the team bus with their hairs dripping. Alexia and Mapi sit close together, unknowingly providing just that little bit of comfort for the other as the both of them keep their jaws clenched.

Alexia is thinking of the worst possibilities of what could happen to you as the bus takes off while Mapi fiddles with the strings of her hoodie, her hands still shaking and she stares at your now dried blood on her palms.

Paños chews on her nails anxiously until she remembers what she said to you during half time and her heart sinks to the bottom of her stomach.

“I promised her hot chocolate after the match, with marshmallows and everything” her strained voice echoes throughout the bus as she buries her face in her hands and the girls feel a fresh wave of tears hit them.

Ana throws her head back as she slides lower in her seat, rubbing at her face to not let the tears fall. The blonde isn’t the only one who has difficulty doing so because soon enough quiet cries break the silence as more of your friends lose their battle against their tears.

“She will be okay, she has to be okay and we’ll get her a big cup of hot chocolate when we get there. I’m telling you she will be fine by the time we get to her room, she will be sitting there impatiently waiting for us and immediately demanding her hot chocolate...She needs to be okay..” Caro speaks with hope as she attempts to bring some kind of comfort to the team, to assure them that you would be awake the next time they’d see you.

Some of the girls breathe a small sigh of relief as they imagine you doing everything the brunette just said, praying that is what will happen and that you will be happily sipping away your hot chocolate by the end of the night.

Mapi bites her tongue at the hearing of Caro's thoughts but Alexia doesn’t hold back as she grits through her teeth.

“How can you be so sure?!” Those words echo in the team’s head, all of them sitting in tense positions and biting their nails in worry as the bus drives them to the hospital you had been admitted to.

They can only hope and pray that Caroline would be right.

#barca femeni x reader #woso imagine #futbol16 #woso x reader

677 notes · View notes

hxnbi · 21 days

Text

「 A FALLEN MIRACLE 」

ღ okkotsu yuta x gn. reader — wc. 2.5k

synopsis: never did he think that he would have to say goodbye so soon. not like this...

After losing Rika, Yuta felt his life crash down on him like a pile of bricks. And since then, he approached everything and anyone with a sense of caution. After all that he had been through his entire life, who could blame him?

Even so, Yuta still genuinely cared about people, and he especially found himself being increasingly attracted to you.

When Yuta was taken to Jujutsu Tech, you, also a first-year student, were initially asked by Gojo to mentor him and just generally help him get through life. You wondered why it was you, but when you looked back at it, and also at the rest of your classmates… it’s no wonder. There weren't exactly a plethora of options to begin with.

It was the option between a talking, horny panda, a boy who could hardly even communication, if you could even call it talking through the phrases of onigiri ingredients “communication,” and a girl with borderline anger issues.

You never had a choice on the subject—not while Gojo was at the helm—but that was beside the point. Your friendship with Yuta started off rough. He was a timid young boy constantly struggling to find his voice, quite literally. There was nothing he would say no to, and even less if that order came from you.

But over time, that awkwardness slowly morphed into something of a true friendship. A sort of bond forged in the trust you built for him, with a connection that grew stronger with each passing day. Up until then, at nearly any point of the day, wherever and whatever you were doing, you would have another figure following you wherever you went. It was to the point where everybody knew of Yuta’s undeniable infatuation with you. It was indeed a surprise to even the likes of Gojo. Well, it wasn’t like Yuta was particularly known for hiding his feelings.

Yuta admired you so much. You had nerves of complete steel. You were confident, resilient, and strong. And above all that, you were selfless. You would, without a second thought, put yourself at risk rather than allow any of your fellow sorcerers and friends to get hurt.

But that would be your biggest weakness.

What all of the first-years expected to be a simple mission to exorcize a single rouge cursed spirit that was terrorizing the townspeople, turned into a complete and utter nightmare. One that no one would’ve ever expected.

And especially not to someone so young…

It all started off lighthearted. The first-years, you, Maki, Toge, Panda, and Yuta, walked along the path where the cursed spirit was said to be, or at the very least around the area.

“Maybe we should split up,” Maki ordered when, by that point, they had been walking around for 30 minutes, and yet there was no sight of any spirits.

“I agree,” you nodded.

Maki placed her hand over her hips, looking over the others as she unofficially took the handle of the leader. “So, as for who gets paired with who, how about—”

“Yuta and [Y/n] should be together!” Panda piped in with a ginormous grin, shoving Maki to the side with his body.

“Why, you…” Maki scowled. If looks could kill, Panda would be flying off the face of the earth.

Ignoring the fire that was burning from Maki, the panda then slung his arm around Yuta’s shoulders, musing, “Yuta and [Y/n] would make a good team, especially when paired with their techniques. Besides, they’ve gone on missions together plenty of times. It’s a no-brainer! Right, Yuta~?”

It was painfully obvious what Panda was trying to get at. And unfortunately for Yuta, Panda hit the exact nail on the head.

The poor boy gaped, scampering with his words, only managing to find a couple that he could even say out loud. “I-I mean… I’m okay with it.”

Ignoring the blatant ear-piercing noise happening around you, you nodded your head. “Me too.”

And there it was, the two of you together, walking side by side. You had your hands clasped together behind your back, humming to a tune that Yuta was all too familiar with, having practically been attached to your hip since getting to know you.

Yuta clutched his katana tightly against his chest. It was embarrassing enough that Panda had brought up the topic, but now there was even more pressure to prove himself to you.

“…Argh!?” Yuta’s foot almost slipped as you suddenly paused right in front of him. “[Y/n]?!” he sputtered, taking a frantic step back to put some distance between you two.

“Yuta~,” you mused. “I thought we were closer than that. Don’t tell me that I was the only one feeling this way?”

Yuta’s cheeks went red. “I, uh…”

“Haha, I’m just kidding around. I hoped that would lighten the mood. But I guess I was mistaken. Sorry about scaring you. Are you alright?” Your foot inched ever closer to his flushed face, pressing him into an undeniable blush.

His mouth was agape. “I-I-I!?”

“C’mon, let's go,” you hummed, already beginning to walk off, leaving Yuta speechless.

“Ah… r-right!”

And it didn’t take long, as just as you two were walking along a new set of pathways, and Yuta hesitated but quickly scurried beside you.

Before long, your footsteps were opposed to the ground, suspiciously cranking your eyes to the alleyway next to your two and narrowing your eyes at the dark alleyway. Though it appeared barren without a soul in sight, what you were sensing was anything but.

Yuta, now with his hand over the sheath of his katana, took a cautious step closer to wherever the obscurity was in that alleyway, feeling the chills.

“Hey, guess today is our lucky day, huh?” you grinned, readying your weapons.

He meekly nodded. “Yeah.” Yuta tightened the grip on the handle of his katana. Looking upward, something was floating in the air—a second-grade cursed spirit—and just as lucky, it was precisely the one they had been looking for. Though the darkness of the alleyway hindered his sight, its size and presence were easily distinguishable.

“Let's bring this one down together.”

But just as those words left your mouth, another strong presence came from right behind you.

You clicked your tongue. “Another one? That wasn’t what they mentioned to us earlier.”

Yuta looked side to side, and then back at you, but you weren’t panicked at all. In fact, far from it. “Yuta, you handle that one over there. I’ve got this one.”

“R-Right!”

He trusted you.

Side by side, you both covered each other's backs. And it didn’t take long for blood to be shed. Nasty welts and bruises spread across the cursed spirit's body, and with a swift swipe, you finished it off with your cursed technique with ease. Horrifying screams of agony blasted through the sound barriers of both the student's eardrums from the curse as it flopped onto the bloodied ground, dead in its state.

“Phew.”

You turned your head, seeing that the cursed spirit was also just as still, lying lifeless beside Yuta as he speechlessly sent you a grimace.

“Good work,” you nodded. You wiped away the blood that was on your cheek. “Hah… well, guess that's it.”

Yuta meekly nodded his head, wiping down the blood from his katana.

“Yuta, how's it going over ther—” your head turned.

A shadow had appeared from below to loom over right over him.

“Y-Yuta!”

It wasn’t dead.

“Yuta! Get out of the way!”

“H-Huh?” Just as everything was cooling down, he thought, Yuta heard a voice coming from his right, and then another.

With one glance thrown the other way, he was shoved to the ground, giving him full access to the horror he would see next.

In just a second, blood poured from your throat and splattered to the ground. A cursed spirit had gotten after him, and yet it was you who was now collapsed onto the ground, holding onto dear life.

Yuta’s eyes went bloodshot red, and with his katana, immediately went for it, stabbing it. He looked on in terror as he saw your entire body slashed and crimson fluid dripping from all ends. Your trembling mouth was trying to say something.

“Huh? W-What is it…?” he shook, stumbling over his words. Yuta knelt and tried to place his ear close by.

But instead, you puked blood, and Yuta was forced to watch as the light in your eyes slowly dipped and your heartbeat fell.

“I-I can’t stop the bleeding…!”

Yuta was on the verge of tears as he embraced you in his arms, fearing for your life. You could feel the warmth of your blood leaving you and dipping onto the cold, concrete ground. The sticky consistency of the crimson liquid became thicker. Your body grew colder by the second.

“Yuta…”

“…!”

“Are you... all right?” you managed to cough up.

His face paled. “Why… Of all the times to worry about me!?” His grip tightened, making you gasp.

“...”

You could feel his embrace around you tighten with desperation. His body shook from fear, possibly despair. It was all just a dream, right…?

“...Why would you try and save me like that…?!” “I told you! I’m fine getting hurt! But…! But why did you—?!”

Unable to utter a word, you replied to his question with the voice in your heart, and, just barely, with a smile. And perhaps, your final one. ‘My feelings for you will always be the same. Even if we were to turn back the clock. Even if you told me not to save you. I still would have done it…’

“...”

“What…? I can’t hear.”

“I’m glad… you’re safe.”

His lungs filled with air, his voice trembling with anguish, heartache far worse than just emotion, pure sorrow, knowing that the time you left remaining would be taken away at any point. “How can you be glad!? You promised! Y-You promised that—” he broke the flow of his words, knowing that it wasn’t the right time.

You slowly let out a breath of relief. You didn’t feel any pain now.

“No… please… Please don't leave me,” he choked.

You had never loved him as much as you did in this very moment as he held onto you, pressing deeply onto your wound, hoping that it would do something, anything. Because if it hurt, it meant that you were still reactive. But even he knew. There was no chance.

You wanted to dry the tears that spilled down his cheeks, but you couldn't move your hand. It was like your body was no longer your own. The body that you once operated was no longer in your control.

Instead of words, your mouth involuntarily vomited more blood. Your trembling hand cupped Yuta’s soft, youthful cheeks—the same youth you wanted to keep alive, all so that you could see him smile.

You were just a mere friend to him. Someone who was acquainted to care for him in a world that was so unforgiving. So why—why was he looking at you with such sad eyes? Eyes filled with terror that you’d leave at any moment.

And perhaps you would.

There were so many things you wanted to tell him, but you couldn't move your lips, nor could you find the strength to.

“Save your energy, please!!” he pleaded with you, begging for you to just wait. Just a bit longer...

“I’ll—”

Abruptly, he felt a tug on his sleeve.

‘I want to live, and… I want you to live, too…’

You whispered your last wish inside your heart, knowingly, that he would never be able to hear it. But maybe, just maybe, understood it.

Tears trickled down from one face to the other, dribbling onto the increasingly pale and bloody face of the only person who ever took care of him.

Yuta cried. Just like he would always do. Whenever he cried, he would ball his eyes out, but the one who always calmed the storm was you. His eyes caught sight of tears falling down your face. It was the first time he had ever seen you cry. It was so foreign. It was beautiful, and it was dying.

You were his miracle. But that miracle of his was dying, and there was nothing he could do.

With everything that your throat could muster, you whispered one last time, “Everything is going to be okay…”

And then those pupils were closed forever.

And just as slowly, light reflections from Yuta’s irises disappeared. Yuta stood back up, still. He eyed the cursed spirit. That thing.

The pain that thing did to you, he would avenge that, tenfold.

“...Rika,” he muttered. “Kill it.”

Rage engulfed him. Alive or not, he wanted to make it suffer, along with everything else in his vicinity. Why should they deserve mercy when you didn't receive any?

That one mistake from him cost him everything. It was all his fault.

Again. Again. Again.

“.....”

“Okkotsu!”

“.....”

‘Die, die. Die die die die die—’

“Oi! Okkotsu Yuta! Snap out of it!”

Only when he felt the grip of Maki grabbing onto his collar and lifting him in the air with an expression of fury did he finally snap out of it.

And he regretted it.

“...What—” he scampered, finally turning his head to face what happened. What he did. “What is this?”

Maki clicked her tongue. “What do you think?”

He knew what he did… Whether he wanted to or not, he did exactly the thing you despised… using his power for harm—not good.

Shit…

Regret flooded him. You would hate him. You wouldn’t want this. This wasn’t what you stood for. But, at that moment, all he could think about was the pain he caused you.

He wasn’t a good person. Hell, he shouldn’t even be considered a person if he couldn’t even save the one person who brought such joy in his life—even if that was just a couple of months. Yuta, in his mind of delusion, had unintentionally called out her name and, with it, killed the cursed spirit in that instant.

But that didn’t bring you back. Nothing could ever bring you back.

Within moments, he ran up to your body, collapsing to his feet and gathering you in his arms. Your head rested on his chest, and he kept on shaking you back and forth.

“[Y/n]... [Y/n], please.”

But that didn’t work. Everything felt cold. Nothing—not even his words would ever work.

His hand pressed on the gash with all his might—anything that his shaky, now bloody hands could do. Yuta peered back and forth, from the wound back to your pale face, hoping that, somehow, his efforts would arouse a reaction from you. If it hurt, it meant you were still conscious. It told him you were still alive.

But Maki, who had just seen the aftermath, clenched her fists as everything unfolded before her very eyes. She already knew, and perhaps, even Yuta himself already knew, but refused to admit it. It was too late to save you.

“You promised…”

That promise was desolate.

“You promised that you would be by my side…”

The only fulfilled promise would be to follow the coffin with you in it.

©hxnbi. please do not modify, edit, copy or reproduce any of my works.

91 notes · View notes

i984 · 1 year

Text

My Thoughts Echoing Your Name | Part 4

|Pairing|: Wednesday Addams x gender neutral reader.

|Warnings|: Afraid of commitment! Wednesday Addams, reader cried ugly, lame banters, author gave up-ish on writing from paragraph 3, Jealous! Wednesday Addams, lame-ass guy still exists.

|Summary|: Even after Wednesday Addams broke your heart, the ache for her is unbearably still there.

|A/n|: I struggled with this one, there's 5 different drafts until I decided to just type whatever comes in mind, and here you have it, a not-last-part of Burning Red. Next and final part is out!

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Music.

It's coming from outside your window.

You strain your ears, and they manage to catch the all-too-familiar tune. It's frickin' Aerosmith blasting in the middle of the night.

Great. Now you look like an idiot from some cliche romantic comedy movie—tears streaming down your cheeks with snotty tissue papers scattered about your bedsheets, a pathetic teenager bawling their eyes out with a love song playing in the background.

Wednesday, the girl of your dreams, was never yours.

It feels funny. How you thought that after leaving Wednesday yet again for the second time that evening, you would finally find peace in the four walls of your dorm space. But instead, here you are, throat hoarse, eyes stinging, chest ragged, nose sniffling, and some psycho has decided to interrupt your much-needed de-stressing session.

The universe must hate you.

You plop down your bed while your eyelids close, drowning in the all-consuming black void while the faint chord of music continues to play. A sound escaped your lips. A defeated chortle. It sounded so weak that you were almost sure it hadn't come out of you, the voice so uncharacteristic of your usual relaxed, carefree laughter.

Memories of your latest cafe commotion flash through your mind, and you feel your heart sinks and touch your diaphragm.

Is this it? Have you been reduced to a heartbroken pathetic fool? The obnoxious images assault your brain, and you scream into your pillow as you give in to the torture, mind re-living the appalling incident at Weathervane.

"Whoa, who are you?" the man across from you and Wednesday asked, his trunk no longer attached to the sofa booth, legs standing up hurriedly at Wednesday's intimidating display.

Wednesday pulls the side of your body closer, both your hips bruisingly pressed to each other as she speaks, "I believe I should ask you the same question."

You squirm under Wednesday's tight grip, unable to decide if you should break free or admit defeat and stay at your place. You chose the latter, partly to assess the situation but also because you've stupidly missed her touch, despite how much you wish to smack the face of the girl standing beside you.

The man's face contorts into confusion before his brows shoot up and his mouth gapes, finally coming to an irksome realization.

"You- you're that outcast from the freak school, right?"

Wednesday, a freak, though she wasn't the only one.

"Your obviously puny brain might want to try coming up with something a little more descriptive than that."

The man ignored Wednesday's insult, finger now raised to point at the raven-haired girl. "No, yeah, I remember you. You're that crazy girl who played cello while the ceremony caught fire."

He takes a small step back from the two of you, the tissue paper in his hand now crumpled. "They said you were the one who staged it all."

"I have to say, the town's people here might not be too dense after all," came Wednesday's haughty reply, and you're starting to get sick of the pointless banter displayed.

The man turns his face to you, "We should go, like now."

You didn't move from your spot—or rather you can't. Wednesday's arm wraps around you more firmly, and you don't know if you hate the feeling of it; the hint of possessiveness in the gesture offers sweet promises and false hope.

Wednesday, the black dahlia that will be the death of you.

It doesn't take a genius to find out, so the next words that come out of the man's mouth are no surprise.

"Wait, you know this girl?" the person you've yet to learn their name asked, and when you didn't answer, he took another step back, his hands now coming up to pull on the base of his hair in horror.

"I can't believe you're friends with this psychopath," and you feel your stomach churn at the man's words. Not at his obviously condescending tone or the sudden behavior change but at the word he chose to use.

Wednesday, a friend. Is that how he sees the two of you?

Even a stranger seems to think this, so could it be true? Oh, how you want to say no because friends don't act this way. They don't get upset about dates; they don't go on those. The romantic kinds, at least.

Their hearts don't hammer against their chests, not when they hold each other's hands so tight they can feel the blood rush under their skin.

They don't swap spit and shove their tounges down each other's throats, and they won't get upset if one of them says that it's all that is. A kiss. After all, friends can kiss each other, right?

But most importantly, they don't get upset when strangers think they're indeed friends.

Wednesday now feels like a foe, and you know you've lost.

"But we're not friends, are we?" You finally turn your head to look at Wednesday's face, and when you see whatever cryptic expression she's got on her front, you lose all hope.

"We're nothing," your voice shakes in defeat, and your free hand tries to pry Wednesday's arm off you, "so I shouldn't have been upset."

"We're nothing," you lift the fingers gripping your hips tightly one by one, "you were right, and I was wrong."

"We're nothing," you look at her previously cold hand that now desperately holds yours, and you wonder if this may be the last time you'll ever get the chance to touch her, "so you should let me go."

You pull your hand to your side forcefully. The cold and the warmth were no more; it was just you.

"So I should go."

The cafe's doorbell chimes, and you leave Wednesday and the stranger behind you, not daring to look back at them, at her.

Because maybe if you do, you'll see that tears have stained her face just like yours have, and you don't know if you'll survive with the sight burned to your brain.

Wednesday, now a ripped page of the book you wish you could burn.

You open your eyes, and the light frays them, making your brows furrow as you groan into the room. The music was no longer there. Gone. Only deafening silence kills your heart and robs your soul. You feel so painfully alone.

Breathing in the air, you look up and see spiders making webs on your ceiling. They dance, weaving more web out, painting beautifully intricate patterns bit by bit.

Your mind calms down, the bitter thoughts now replaced with a name, and your mind holds to it and repeats it like a mantra.

Wednesday

You want to see her.

Wednesday

You want to feel her.

Wednesday

Your heart calls out her name.

Wednesday

Oh, you miss her.

"Wednesday." Your voice calls out her name; a knock answers.

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams x you #wednesday addams fanfic #wednesday addams imagine #jenna ortega x reader #wednesday addams #wednesday x reader #wednesday series #wednesday x y/n #wednesday netflix #wednesday x you

666 notes · View notes

silantryoo · 10 months

Text

BONUS [ LIKEALOOK ] — gravity

GAME TWO: Seoul's Univeristy of Multi-Arts (SUMA) VS. Korea University (KU)

WARNINGS ; mentions of cheating, overworking, jokes about virginity and sex (3.3k)

shin ryujin fixed her mask as she scanned the court.

suma was exactly how she remembered it. her eyes squinted against the yellow-tinted fluorescent lights that blinded her as soon as she entered. there was the faint smell of bleach that always seemed to linger during game days, and the loud screams that melted the hundreds of voices into one ginormous one.

she held back a smile, watching as her school sat across from the gym, holding crimson banners and waving cardboard cutouts of tiger heads.

ryujin adjusted her scarlet hoodie, making her way to the closest empty space. she took a seat next to the suma students, eyes on her as the number 23 blared at them, the last name lee etched onto her back. ryujin could feel pride swell in her chest, watching as her girlfriend did what she did best.

times like this, she wished she could've stayed, she wished she could've played alongside chaeryoung without a care in the world.

ryujin looked over to jimin, the girl holding her side as she shouted orders at one of her juniors. she watched them wince, nodding as if they were terrified that she might implode at one more thing they did wrong.

if chaeryoung was the desire, jimin was a reminder.

jimin was hwang yeji's legacy.

"i'm just surprised that you didn't dress up this time."

yuri looked down at her outfit, smoothing out her loose denim jeans and her white shirt. it was a drastic change from last time, considering she had been sporting a bright red cheerleading costume with yena's number plastered on the back of it.

(aside from being the first university to have all major sports available at the university level, suma was also the first to sell their own athlete merchandise.)

"am i supposed to dress up every time?" yuri complained. she scratched her cheek, trying to forget the fact that minju was the only reason she didn't wear it today.

minjeong snickered under her breath, fidgeting lightly with the hood of her sweater. "yes."

yuri hit her without the usual protest from her roommate. the older girl had been too busy staring at the japanese transfer, and it was clear that rei was starting to get uncomfortable.

"unnie." y/n elbowed her. she wasn't against minju giving rei a piece of her mind, but the older girl would murder rei if she didn't watch herself. "stop it."

minju's gaze broke away from the freshman's figure. her eyes, now seemingly filled with innocence instead of rage, looked into y/n's.

"what?" minju batted her eyelashes.

y/n rolled her eyes, minju's glare returning as she watched rei once more.

yuri looked over, the tension suppressing the five girl's into silence, despite the large crowd cheering all around them.

y/n tried to focus on her girlfriend, watching as jimin tied her hair into a high ponytail. the senior was pale, playing through the pain of her bruised ribs as if it was second nature. her neck was carefully covered up with marks, and if y/n was just any other person to jimin, she wouldn't have noticed.

y/n wondered if jimin felt any guilt, staring into the mirror as she tried to erase the marks of nakamura kazuha.

"yo, rei." yuri cleared her throat, peering over at the taller girl. she pointed to minjeong. "you know she's not a virgin?"

minjeong's head snapped away from y/n's figure to yuri's. "what the fuck is your problem?"

jimin, like always, lead the team with the most amount of kills, despite coach seulgi insisting she sat out and let the others get some minutes.

she didn't care, and it was clear that she had something to prove, even if she was already the face of south korea's university league. there was something burning in her, a gnawing fire that seemed to engulf her whenever she looked at wonyoung.

"i'm just surprised you managed to pull." yuri joked, earning a scoff from the girl to her left. "was it a man?"

y/n stared at the middle blocker, chanting for her younger teammates with gaeul and yujin. her eyes gleamed, cheeks red from shouting too loud. her teeth peaked through her upper lip, her eyes turning into crescents as she continued to chant. out of habit, y/n strained to hear her ears just to hear wonyoung in the sea of people, just like always.

minju pulled her gaze away from rei, her eyes stumbling across y/n's, fully enamored in whatever she was looking at.

"no!" jimin scores another kill, and minjeong could hear the desperate screams of the girls beside her. "i'm a homo, you asshole."

wonyoung smiled for a moment, and y/n remembered that she was jimin's.

y/n felt sick.

"questionable." yuri eyed minjeong up and down.

the music major mind ran in circles, thinking of a way to tell the girl beside her to shut up, but she could see the color draining from y/n's face, and to her, nothing would ever be more important than l/n y/n.

"y/n." minjeong leaned over, tugging on her hood.

y/n wanted to go back to a time when being with jimin felt like wonyoung smiling at her, holding her in her arms as the air conditioning blew onto her bed.

jimin scores another kill, and y/n didn't have it in her to cheer for the girl she loved/

"i'm fine." y/n wondered if she was.

minju looked at her once again, before her eyes fell on rei. the girl was relaxed, too much so for minju's liking. she didn't understand how the girl could be so nonchalant about breaking her little sister's heart. minju couldn't understand how someone could say such horrible things and act like everything was okay, like they were okay.

(minju didn't know if she was talking about naoi rei anymore.)

fishing a ₩1000 bill from her jacket, she handed it to y/n, gripping it tightly.

"go get water." the vice president stated.

y/n looked at her bottle on the ground, open but basically full. "but i already have-"

"go get water."

the whistle blows, and the opposite section of the gym erupts into cheers. y/n hadn't heard them since the beginning of the set.

minju gave her a pointed look, and the younger girl hesitantly nodded. there was nothing that would be able to get through to minju, not when it came to her sister.

"oh."

y/n stood up, making minjeong follow her lead. she watched as y/n faded into the crowd, and although she tried to walk after the girl, minjeong couldn't.

"minjeongers." yuri looked at her, hand firmly on her wrist as she looked up at her with curiosity. "let's talk about your sex life somewhere else so rei doesn't her how utterly depressing it is."

minjeong clenched her fist, looking at the back of yuri's head as the shorter girl stood up.

"i'll fuck your mom."

"i'll fuck yours."

the whistle blows once more, covering minju's very adamant (very terrifying) 'go!', but it didn't stop minjeong from searching for y/n through the crowd.

y/n entered the gym once more, red slurpee in hand as she scanned the area.

the floor under her shoes felt sticky, and slightly stained red. from where she was standing, she could see at least five boxes of empty popcorn containers and a poster of jimin with hearts surrounding it.

y/n couldn't help but roll her eyes as she began walking down the front row. she continuously bowed in apology for blocking the view, earning curses from suma students with faces painted red and banners waving in the air. the cheering never ceased and all she wanted was to she made her way up the bleacher stairs, only to find it completely blocked by crowds of people.

sighing, she took the closest free seat, one right across from suma's side of the court.

she could hear wonyoung better than before, and y/n couldn't wait until suma switched sides.

needing a distraction, she looked to her right, stopping at the whisker-like dimple peaking out from under the stranger's mask that sat beside her. the scarlet hoodie glared back at her, the bright 'lee 23' staring her in the face.

"ryujin-sunbaenim?"

ryujin stopped, her heart dropping. she wasn't supposed to be spotted, especially this close to the court.

swallowing down her anxieties, she adjusted her mask up higher, covering her cheeks.

"y/n-ssi." she bowed, watching as the younger girl did the same back. "it's been awhile."

ryujin glanced as chaeryoung shut down ku in their tracks, blocking a near-perfect spike from the other team. she felt pride swell all over her body, threatening to spill out of her throat.

"it has." y/n nodded, recalling last year and it's many events. "are you cheering for chaeryoung-sunbaenim?"

"i am." y/n could see ryujin's smile from underneath her mask. "are you here for-"

wonyoung's high-pitched cheers invaded y/n's ears.

"no." it took everything in her to not glance at the girl. "we broke up a while back."

ryujin tried her best to not look shocked, but it was impossible. although they were just kids, wonyoung and y/n weren't together just to be together.

wonyoung was y/n's and y/n was wonyoung's.

"oh." ryujin scratched the side of her neck, avoiding y/n's eyes. she hated the feeling she got when jisu was mentioned. she couldn't imagine what it was like with y/n right now. "sorry."

y/n shrugged, her eyes moving to watch her girlfriend. "i'm with jimin now."

jimin. ryujin thought. that makes sense.

her brown irises snapped to the girl beside her, and a sense of seriousness seemed to fill the entire olympic sized gym.

"you aren't not gonna tell her i'm here, right?"

ryujin searched y/n's eyes, trying to find the girl before jimin (before yeji).

"no."

all she saw was wonyoung's y/n.

"okay."

she turned her head, facing the court once more. jimin had always been more caring than yeji. the girl would offer the others time to rest, pulling their former captain away from the group for as long as possible.

maybe the jimin ryujin knew no longer existed, or maybe there was a part of her that could never be erased.

ryujin looked at jimin, muttering what seemed to be curses at one of her juniors.

she looked at y/n once more, her eyes bright despite her sunken cheeks and heavy eyebags.

maybe it wasn't the yoo jimin ryujin had met her first year, the one that worked hard for her family, nor the yoo jimin she knew now.

"thank you."

y/n couldn't help but notice ryujin's eyes, full of light as she watched at chaeryoung once more.

ryujin had never looked happier.

jimin stared at the door, waiting for it to open.

the game had ended twenty minutes ago and was an absolute blowout despite the fact that jimin had been benched by seulgi at the end of the second set.

she would've been upset, especially since she ended up sitting next to jang wonyoung, but everything seemed to melt away when she stared at y/n from across the gym.

she could see y/n's beauty mark from where she was sitting, her eyes slightly red because of jimin's doing. y/n was rubbing her wrist, covering up a mysterious bruise that jimin had no clue about until recently. her nose was slightly red, the heat from the gym affecting her.

despite everything jimin had done, despite everything jimin had said, y/n stayed. she stood by her, never choosing a different person, nor straying from her. it was everything that jimin had deserved, everything that a good person like her deserved.

she deserved someone who would stay this time, not like hwang yeji, not like her father, and even though jimin knew she would stray a couple times more, y/n was hers.

she looked at the clock, ticking in front of her like the metronome in her dorm.

it had been thirty minutes since the game had ended.

she rubbed the freshly-made bruises on her skin, watching the door closely.

no one came.

y/n knew it was a stupid idea.

she rubbed her thumb along the side of her phone, looking at the text jiwon had sent her from earlier. the younger girl had asked her if she could thank wonyoung. y/n was grateful, a sense of pride running through her body when jiwon had texted her those words, but she knew that it was a bad idea.

still, she could hear the screams and cheers coming from inside.

a part of her could imagine wonyoung, eyes bright and cheeks rosy, laughing at some stupid joke that one of her teammates made. she didn't understand why something so pointless would draw her in, but she couldn't help it.

wonyoung was like her gravity.

y/n knocked, as if afraid to exert her bruised wrist once more.

the door opened, and the middle blocker towered over her.

"wonyoung."

wonyoung could feel her entire face go red.

"y/n." she took of the inflatable, burger king crown from her head, ignoring yena's demands behind her ('just tell me what you know and i'll leave you alone.'). "um, hi."

"can i talk to you?" y/n looked inside the room, seeing yena's poorly drawn picture of what she assumed to be yuri. she held back a smile. "privately?"

wonyoung didn't know whether to cry because she was happy, or to cry because she felt terrified.

she looked at y/n's anticipating eyes, faint red lines covering the whites of them, bloodshot and dry.

i miss wonyoung.

she could never deny y/n, not even if wonyoung could try.

"of course."

y/n moved aside, letting wonyoung close the door behind her. she watched as wonyoung moved away from the frosted window, and next to the wall.

y/n could feel her phone buzzing in her hand, and she quickly hit the power button.

"jiwon wanted me to thank you." y/n whispered with her head low, the ventilation humming in the back. "for the rei thing. i don't know what you said, but it made her feel better, so thank you."

y/n couldn't look up, no matter how much she wanted to see wonyoung at that moment.

"it's no problem." she could hear wonyoung's soft grin through her words. "she's my friend."

wonyoung shuffled around, the silence hanging thick in the air. with fleeting moments come times like these, where all she could think about were her past mistakes, and how being in the same vicinity as y/n made her hurt in ways that she had never felt before.

i miss wonyoung.

"i should go." wonyoung loved y/n as much as she loved running away from her problems.

"wonyoung?"

but y/n never let her, and she was both grateful and not simultaneously.

wonyoung looked at her, y/n's eyes peering into her own. she could hear her heart beating in her chest, watching as the shorter girl smiled.

"thank you for keeping me safe."

wonyoung could feel pride bubbling in her chest.

she could feel herself smiling involuntarily, like a side effect from being around the girl she had loved for more than a year now. "i'll always keep you safe."

y/n never doubted those words when it came to wonyoung.

"i know."

the older girl watched as wonyoung's eyes softened, the industrial lights above them lighting them almost perfectly.

she wanted to tell wonyoung everything, like the two were back at their dorm, gossiping about their day and joking around like the world outside didn't exist.

y/n wanted to tell her how much she missed her, how since they've broken up, all her dreams were about her. she wanted to show her that she still had that stupid teddy bear she named after some character from that volleyball show, and how every time she tried to throw it away, she couldn't.

minjeong would kill her, but she would kill herself if she let this pass.

"wonyoung," y/n could feel her heart thumping in her chest. "i-"

"how are you and jimin-sunbaenim?" wonyoung winced, hating how that was the first thing that came to mind.

the last time she had seen y/n was when the two had gotten back together, so the memory was still fresh in her mind (and painfully so).

"huh?" y/n blinked. jimin? "oh right. yeah, we're okay."

"good." wonyoung wanted to jump into the nearest ceiling fan. "that's good."

yujin was going to absolutely make fun of her later, and all she could do is whine because it's her fault.

y/n muttered, pressing the power button on her phone once more. "do you still have my number?"

wonyoung wondered if she needed to clean her ears, or if she was starting to hear ghosts.

"what?" the taller girl looked at y/n with a toothless smile, eyes blank and glossed over. "sorry?"

"my number." y/n didn't understand how she was more nervous about this than the audition for hybe's bts. "do you still have it?"

xxx-xxx-xxxx.

wonyoung had memorized it the day y/n had given it to her, and she wasn't planning on deleting it from her memory or her phone.

she nodded, too afraid that she'd combust if she opened her mouth.

"good." y/n looked at her phone. 9 missed calls from jimin and minjeong. "i still have yours."

wonyoung was going to faint.

"oh."

"i'll text you later." y/n blushed, the tip of her nose going red. she didn't realize what it sounded like until she said it. "about jiwon, i mean."

"right." y/n wasn't going to text her to ask about her, but all that mattered was that she was going to text wonyoung. "about jiwon."

wonyoung bit her tongue. a win was a win, even though her self-esteem was utterly destroyed, and she started to blame herself even more for their breakup, burying herself deeper into studies, stuco duties, and volleyball that her hair was starting to thin. all within a week.

wonyoung scratched the side of her thumb, anxiety suddenly erupting across her palms.

behind her, wonyoung could see a figure turning the corner, sharp eyes trained to her phone as she furiously texted. the volleyball player looked at her phone, her face draining.

eleven missed messages.

the middle blocker closed her eyes, waiting for the senior to spot her. she could hear the footsteps coming closer, and she waited until they stopped before she opened her eyes.

"i was loo-" the older girl scolded before doing a double take. "um, hello."

y/n waved at the familiar face. "hi."

wonyoung watched as the older girl tried to piece things together, looking between her and y/n who stood stiff and unmoving.

pointing between the two, she squinted her eyes. "are you two..."

"no! oh my god, no." y/n didn't understand why it upset her so much, or why her chest suddenly felt so heavy. "unnie, why are you here?"

"my chauffeur is picking us up in like, five." she continued to text on her phone. "get dressed."

y/n felt like she was intruding, and the older girl's manicured nails tapping against her phone screen was starting to drive her insane.

"where are we going?" wonyoung asked.

the older girl shrugged, not really sure either. "out."

it felt painful to watch, and suddenly she felt the need to find jimin.

the middle blocker whined, not wanting to get black-out drunk on a thursday. "no getting drunk please."

"we'll see." she hummed, closing her phone as she shooed wonyoung with her hand.

y/n needed jimin, and she needed her now.

bowing lightly, y/n smiled at the two girls, once more fake than the other. her eyes met the older girl's, and even though she had heard of her multiple times from jimin, it was different than seeing her in person.

"bye, wonyoung." y/n said softly, her breath shallow.

she bowed once more, much lower than the last.

"aeri-sunbaemin."

masterlist | next

taglist (CLOSED)!!

@serenitygrace24 @moontealemonpie @writingficsblog @kittyeij @cutieseo @limbforalimb @ahnneyong @yumtooki @lcv3lies @sserajeans @jiwoneiric @babycubchae @trsrina @xyxlyn @misumiausworld @slowlyturninggay291 @awkwardtoafault @captivq @ddeonutz @noiacha @sserabey @d7dream @slowlyturninggay291 @lvwr @perfectsunlight @forever-in-the-sky2 @juhyunsthirdwife @uzumakioden @txtbrainrot @rosiehrs @yunjinhart @skisk1 @bzeus28 @deeznutzryu @jisooftme @danistolemyheart @li0ilthecxnt @eggomi @ddoxhan @zhivaxo @sweet-dhrafts @livelaughloveyujin @luveuly @marimo-anura @yunnybunnyy @ivy-aurora @wonyoluvr

#jang wonyoung x reader #ive x reader #iz*one x reader #izone x reader #aespa x reader #kpop x reader #idol x reader #silantryo

292 notes · View notes

finalresidentevilfantasy · 25 days

Text

Promise me Leon.

A/N: Hiiii, I'm back after a long break! Sorry this took so long, I was in a bit of a writing slump but hopefully we're over it and will be posting more content over time.

Warnings: talks of guns, blood, death, major character death, kinda fluffy but hella angsty. No happy endings here. No use of Y/N. Reader is female but no description of appearance is used.

W/C: 1.9K.

Pain, that was all she felt. Clutching at her side as she stumbled down the corridor Leon had carried Ashley down. She lifted her hand from her abdomen, it was covered in blood, all her own. Krauser had managed to throw a knife, the blade landing straight into her, slightly towards the left hand side of her body. Leon had managed to bandage it up pretty well afterwards.

"Shit!" Leon was by her side in seconds, Krauser laying in a pool of his own blood after Leon was finished with him. "You okay? Still with me?" His voice was full of concern as his eyes scanned every inch of her.

"Yeah, yeah I'm okay." She reassured with a small smile. Leon's eyes found hers and she found herself getting lost in them, as she always did when they were this close. The blue, it was gorgeous, calming. His stare lingered a little longer than usual before he shook his head slightly working on the task at hand.

"There, that should hold until we can get out of here." Leon said, look of triumph on his face. The knife had left a clean cut, an easy wound for Leon's first aid training, he'd managed to stop the bleeding, careful hands worked as he bandaged her up. She swore every time his hand brushed over the skin of her stomach her heart skipped a beat.

"Thank you Leon." She spoke softly, taking his hand in her own, a bold move on her part. "I appreciate it."

"No sweat." Leon brushed off nonchalantly, a smile gracing his lips, he didn't let go of her hand, enjoying the warm, soft feel against his fingertips.

Neither had acted upon it but they both knew that they harboured feelings for one another. The hours they spent together in training, Leon pushing her past her limits to get her anywhere near as good as he was. Taking the time to personally train his new partner, the time they spent together? Who wouldn't fall in love?

"I'm sorry." She suddenly sighed, she'd taken her eye off the ball and that was how she'd gotten stabbed, but Leon was in danger of course her attention was elsewhere. "I should've been paying more attention."

"Yeah, you should." His voice startled her, was she about to receive her first lecture from the man in front of her? But then he sighed "don't scare me like that again. I don't-" he hung his head as he cut himself off. Then, after a moment, his eyes snapped back to hers and they were filled with such a passion, a fire she hadn't seen before. "I don't think I'd survive losing you."

How she wished things could be different as she used the wall to steady herself. She'd stayed behind to distract Saddler, giving Leon and Ashley time to run, get a head start on removing the Plaga's. But she wasn't good enough, not fast enough, Saddler had reopened the wound Leon had closed. Her adrenaline giving her enough strength to knock him out but at a cost to herself.

She knew Leon would be furious with her. She'd dropped a statue between them, giving him no choice but to leave her behind, Ashley was the priority but she also had to make sure Leon made it out, the veins in his arms and face an indication that his time was running out. She was the only one of the three who'd managed to avoid infection but she had a feeling she'd be paying a different price for that.

She stumbled into Luis' lab just as Leon lost consciousness, Ashley breathing hard for a moment before she picked up Leon's pistol, pointing it in her direction. Ashley's eyes blew wide as she took in one of her rescuers state, dropping the gun. Her name leaving Ashley's lips as she continued to stumble forward, focus on Leon.

"Saddler?" Ashley asked and she shook her head in response to her question.

"Just knocked out, I think. I don't think I killed him." She stumbled again as she took a step. "Ashley, I need you to help me get him up." She spoke, it hurt to speak now, not only had Saddler reopened the wound but he'd made it bigger, the blood loss was fast now, a clear trail of blood following her everywhere.

Ashley was quick to help her, bearing some of her weight for her. "You need to sit." Ashley's voice was concerned and rushed.

"No, Ash." Her voice was confident, stern, despite her weakening condition. "Leon, we have to help him." She stumbled further, almost out of Ashley's grip as she made a bee line for her partner who was becoming more consumed by the veins, they were wasting time.

"But you need-" Ashley tried again and she spun to look at her.

"I'm not getting out of here. Come on, look at me, I'm dead weight, I'm a liability. But Leon, he's gonna be okay, he has to be okay, if this is the last thing I ever do, it has to be saving him Ashley." Her eyes were pleading with the president's daughter for help, her eyes lined with tears, Ashley's having already spilled over. "This is my last mission," a watery smile on her lips, "you gonna help me complete it?"

Ashley nodded reluctantly, both women moving to help the unconscious agent up. She groaned as she bore most of Leons weight, his head falling onto her shoulder, Ashley quick to help as they both manoeuvred him onto the chair. She almost screamed in pain, using the last of her strength as she placed him down, she fell onto one knee then, Ashley running to start the machine.

"God, I wish I'd have told you how much I love you." She whispered as she ran a hand through Leon's hair, he looked peaceful, even with the black veins consuming him. "You really are beautiful Leon." She smiled as she watched the black veins disappear, the machine having worked.

Ashley brought a chair for her to sit on as they waited patiently for Leon to wake up and at some point she lost her own consciousness.

*****

Her name. That was all she heard, she opened her eyes, her vision blurry but she could make out the beautiful blue staring into her own eyes. He was crying, she probably looked terrible. She was now laying in the same chair they'd put Leon into.

"Hey." Her voice was weak, how she'd managed to regain consciousness was beyond her. But she was thankful, perhaps she'd get to say goodbye.

"Don't talk." His voice was frantic, hands covering her wound as he placed as much pressure as he could, he was trying to stop the bleeding but they both knew, whatever he did, it wasn't going to be enough.

"Leon, it's no use." She smiled sadly at him and he let out a sob, head hitting her chest as he cried. She saw in her peripheral as Ashley turned away, wiping at her own tears. "Hey." She coaxed his face back up to look at her. He was so sad, she doesn't think she'd ever seen him display so much emotion all at once. He was a mess.

"It's okay." She said in reassurance, a peace was beginning to set over her, something about being in Leon's presence always put her at ease, she felt safe. "You need to go, Saddler's still out there, I'm sure of it, get Ashley out of here." She said as she reached to weakly card her fingers through Leon's hair, hand settling on his cheek.

"I'm not leaving you." Leon sobbed as he placed his own hand onto her cheek, wiping away her rapidly falling tears. "I promised I'd get you home." She knew it was pointless to argue, as much as she probably should, she selfishly wanted to keep him here until she passed.

"It's okay. It doesn't matter." She tried to reassure, her voice growing weaker as she felt her heart start to slow, longer blinks now, breathing was harder. "I wish I could've told you." She said, it was now or never, she had his attention, all of it. "I'm in love with you, I have been for a long time." Her name left his lips in a breath as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"You have no idea how in love with you I am." He spoke and her heart felt full, fuller than it ever had before at his confession, she could die happy now, he'd said it. "If I could trade places with you, I would, in a heartbeat. I'm so sorry I never told you." He was crying again now, almost hysterically.

"Leon, you have to promise me that you'll survive this, you have to carry on." She said, recalling his earlier words, she was losing herself now, everything was harder as her hand fell from his face, Leon quick to catch it in his own, bringing it to his lips as he kissed over her knuckles, she smiled. "Promise me Leon." She said as she took in his features for the last time.

"I promise I'll carry on." He smiled sadly down at her, eyes closing as a full peace washed completely over her.

"I love you, Leon." She whispered before she went still, everything having stopped.

"No, no, no, no." Leon muttered to himself as he began to shake her again, as if he could wake her. He couldn't and the rational part of his brain knew that but he wasn't ready to let go, not of her, he doesn't think he ever will be.

"It's not fair." He suddenly shouted and Ashley jumped as he kicked the nearest table over, scalpels and other operating equipment scattering across the floor. "Why her?" Leon asked no one. He was venting now, his emotions no where near in check, a stark contrast to the Leon Ashley had been used to. Ashley's eyes softened as she watched Leon fall to his knees and sob, she approached him, dropping to her own knees as she took the now fragile agent into her arms.

"I'm sorry Leon," was all she said as she held the broken man in her arms, she wished she could take his pain away but even Ashley, who'd only known the two for a day or so could see just how much they loved one another. A bond that wouldn't have easily been broken, partners who trusted one another with their lives.

Leon took a good few minutes to calm down, Ashley's shoulder now stained with his tears. He stood suddenly, Ashley following. He bent down to pick up his pistol, checking the magazine before he placed it back into its holster. Ashley watched silently as the agent took one final look at his partner, bending down to place a kiss on her forehead.

He breathed deeply, rolling his shoulders as he headed for the door. "Come on." His voice sounded darker, colder, not the playful, softer Leon Ashley had grown used to. Everything about him was colder, his demeanour, everything. "We need to find Saddler." Leon spoke again as he marched out of the lab. Ashley suspected that Saddler was going to suffer a fate worse than death by the time Leon was done with him. Ashley wasn't sure Leon would come out of this the same man he'd started out, the loss he'd suffered too great.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy angst #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy #re4 leon

61 notes · View notes

mischievous-piltovan · 9 months

Text

Of Atlas and Sisyphus (NSFW)

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x afab!Reader Themes: Romance, Fluff, NSFW, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn. Word Count: Roughly 8000 words Synopsis: You're a tech-savvy Spider that landed a position in Miguel's lab by tinkering with your gizmo. Despite your best efforts, you couldn't keep a fondness for the man for taking hold, so you've been trying your best to manage your crush with the tools at hand.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel has been dealing with a very similar problem.

An accident during a mission led both of you to face these feelings.

Two headstrong and emotionally constipated idiots can't communicate their feelings despite being over 30.

Trigger Warnings/TWs: blood, wound, piercing damage, reader is afab and uses she/her pronouns, miscommunication, emotionally constipated idiots, a bit of power imbalance because boss x underling (but ever so slightly), masturbation.

A/N: this started a silly NSFW one-shot but then I needed some yearning to make the sex part feel powerful and now we're here. Oops. Also I was VERY dramatic in my writing, pardon my self-indulgence.

A/N²: Reader's special Spider powers are linked to fire. She uses highly flammable webbing that conducts flames to burn her enemies (without killing them). The source of fire are her palms - they naturally conduct heat. So it's like: she shoots her web from the underside of her wrists and grips the ropes to light them on fire once they latch on an enemy. Anyways, just to clarify. Huge thank you to my lovely beta-readers @uniquedeerwitch @tantei14 and @zaunitearchives for lurking_kitty every single entry on the Discord Server. Part 1 | Part 2 (soon)

「Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the hill everyday so he could become worthy of sharing the weight of the sky with Atlas. Atlas carried the firmament on his shoulders to protect Sisyphus from the monster his plight kept caged - himself.」

"I expected more from you," Miguel said, looking down at you from his lab's platform. His arms crossed over his chest in a commanding instance.

"Miguel, I caught the Anomaly." You protested, annoyance seeping through your words.

"But you almost didn't," he retorted "Had Lyla not warned you, the Anomaly would have escaped your feeble attempt at securing it. You were careless."

"I had everything under control" you rebuked through gritted teeth.

"That wound you sustained begs to differ" Miguel responded, cocking an eyebrow at you. You looked away with an exhale, one hand coming up instinctively to cover the bloodied tear at the side of your suit, right below your rib cage. Had it not been for your accelerated healing factor, the gash the Anomaly left on you would still be very much open and bleeding. At your lack of response, Miguel turned back to his console. "I will accompany you on your next few missions to make sure it doesn't repeat itself."

"Oh the fuck you will," you snapped back at him "It was one mistake, O'Hara! I don't need chaperoning!"

"Until you prove to me you don't, you will have it" He simply responded, his focus on the many screens in front of him. You opened your mouth to protest but gave up before any words came out, there was no point in trying to argue with Miguel. With a loud exhale, you turned on your heels and stormed out of the dark chamber.

As soon as your steps could no longer be heard, Lyla popped up next to Miguel.

"Miguel, I think this has been going on long enough" She stated, looking at where you disappeared.

"Nothing's been going on" He retorted without missing a beat, his eyes still glued to the monitors in front of him.

"Your bio readings say otherwise," She jabbed, bringing up a second screen next to the one Miguel was working on. He looked at it from the corner of his eyes and didn't take much to notice what Lyla was referring to - his heart-rate, oxytocin and cortisol levels were all higher than his usual. He sighed, closing his eyes. At that reaction, she concluded, "It's been like that for a while, but it gets worse whenever you interact with her."

Miguel took a deep breath before responding "It's complicated."

"Lashing out on her won't solve anything" Lyla's words stung. They cemented the guilt he started feeling as soon as you turned around and left. He lost control yet again, a dreadful habit that has been putting down roots whenever you were involved.

"I know," was all he could muster. He could try to explain why he did it, how watching you get hurt stirred the beast inside of him, how he had to fight to keep it chained down yet again as it tried to claw its way out, how the amount of effort to do so has been increasing as its constant struggles had been wearing down its shackles, how on top of that he had to act as your leader, how this whole circus left him with little to no mental capacity to anything else, how his attitude was but an outcome rather than a thought out action. But in the end there was no justifying it, he was wrong.

"You care a lot about her, don't you," Lyla spoke in a softer tone. Miguel took a long breath before responding.

"You could say that."

Miguel had been torn about you for quite a while now. He considered himself intelligent, especially when it came to Genetics and Bio-engineering, but he would be lying if he said he could fully understand his own feelings sometimes. Let alone be aware of them, Lyla was the one who figured it out for him when she noticed a pattern in his biological readings whenever he came into contact with you.

At first he denied it even to himself, rationalizing the good feelings he had towards you as being a matter of fact. You were exceptionally capable, had a formidable intellect and could perform your missions with ease (seconded only by Jess and himself), he felt he could count on you and that in itself was a novelty to him. Sure, you were very easy on the eyes too but he had felt attracted to other Spiders in the Society before, it wouldn't be a first.

But then all thoughts start circling back to you, despite not necessarily having anything to do with you in the first place. Like how he'd wonder what kind of food you preferred whenever he sat down to eat or what season you liked more when he noticed the air getting crisper. He'd start noticing smaller things about you, charming details that encapsulated who you were at your best, like the melodic cadence in your voice whenever you were close to finishing a project at the lab or how small your hands were compared to his.

The last straw came one day on a particular slow morning at HQ, when he went to the cafeteria to grab some coffee and an empanada. He heard the sound of your laughter all the way across the room and the sight that greeted him upon turning towards you was like a punch to the gut: you casually talking to a male Spider while he rested a hand on your shoulder. Suddenly there was anger, dread and a sense of possessiveness overcoming him all at once.

And then there was the 'oh'.

That was the push the metaphorical askew tower he had been piling his conceptions of you needed to finally click into place, every piece neatly connecting together at the same axis - his undeniable infatuation with you.

That's when everything started tumbling down - he didn't know how to navigate these murky waters. He foolishly let it grow unattended, unpruned and now it grew to the point it consumed him. Your presence used to soothe him, now it drove him insane - as if the slow burn of a growing fondness he didn't know he nursed through months blasted him all at once, engulfing him in an overwhelming inferno shaped like you.

His desire was the very next thing that assaulted him, overwhelming his thoughts. He didn't know if it was because of his spliced genes or because he had a tendency to neglect his more primal needs in the face of work, or if it was a combination of both. The matter of fact was - his body screamed for you and he couldn't just ignore it. Your presence at the lab was enough to send him into a spiral in need of release, no matter how hard he tried to push it down. Even just trying to concentrate on his work was futile, your scent plagued him and for the first time in a while he loathed his modified genes that heightened his senses. He lost count of the amount of times he fucked his hand in pursuit of some relief, but that reprieve wouldn't last long. Soon he was snatching whatever personal belongings you left in the lab to bring it to his nose while he tugged at his cock.

All of that because the very idea of offering this onslaught of feelings to you felt wrong. Not simply because of the obvious power imbalance your respective positions in the Society bestowed upon you, but because of who you both were. Despite technically being a Spider-Man thanks to (some) of his powers, he was anything but; Everyday he was faced with countless joyful rays of sunshine, glowing around HQ in the form of different variants of Spider-People, a stark contrast to everything he was. There was no hero in Miguel O'Hara, the fire that burned within him was not the cozy glow of a hearth, but the destructive power of infernal flames; everything about him was demonic, from his talons to his venomous fangs and blood-red eyes. He'd literally take shots to keep his DNA in check as to not lose what little humanity he had left.

He was corruption, ruination… And you didn't deserve that. He didn't deserve that.

But the demon within him desired you, lusted for you, and Miguel gave everything he had to keep it sealed away inside of him. And of course this took its toll, to sustain this control Miguel had to completely change his approach towards you, distancing himself as much as he could while maintaining a somewhat professional facade. Yet, the demon would jump at every opportunity to seize control, and he'd often find himself gravitating towards you and the warm glow of the dynamic you cultivated in the lab, only to pull back as soon as he noticed his short-comings.

Miguel yawned, rubbing his tired eyes as he felt the strain of overwork settling in. He grabbed his mug, taking the last sip of his already cold coffee as he checked the time - 3 in the morning. He groaned, there was still plenty to be done before he could even consider calling it a night. Dejected, he grabbed his empty thermal carafe and made his way to the cafeteria to fill it with more coffee.

However, before he could reach the Lab door, his nostrils were assaulted with a very familiar fragrance - your scent. On pure impulse, Miguel turned on his heel and followed the aroma. Yes, your scent usually lingered a while after you called it a day, but this was different, it was stronger. Soon, he found out the reason why - you were still in the lab.

Resting your head on your crossed arms atop your work station, you slept peacefully as your body gently rose and fell to the rhythm of your breathing. Miguel noticed the project you were working on earlier that day unceremoniously shoved to the side with a myriad of tools in a messy array near it. You must have dozed-off in the middle of working on it.

He took the time to watch you, to commit the scene to memory. As creepy as he felt, there weren't a lot of opportunities he could indulge in just admiring you from afar without worrying about it setting-off your Spider-Senses. Right now in the calm hours preceding the break of dawn, he had you all to himself.

You looked beautiful.

His heart ached with yearning. Your scent in the air added to how serene you looked and his own exhaustion made him desire nothing more than to hold you, to nuzzle your neck and savor your musk as he carried you to the nearest bed only to have a decent night of sleep in each other's arms. To wake-up the next day greeted with your adorable disheveled self in pure domestic bliss. To kiss your puffy lips good morning as he caressed your face, and maybe letting wandering hands escalate it to something more… lecherous.

Miguel left the carafe on the nearest surface as he approached you. Would you like that? Would you give him the privilege of indulging in your most vulnerable state? Would you give yourself to him as he wished to give himself to you? Maybe the only thing keeping it from happening was a leap of faith…

He hovered his hand above your shoulder. Maybe he should do it, all it would take was waking you up and talking to you. Maybe just going straight to physical contact, grabbing your hands in his and pouring everything out in the open. Or taking the risk and kissing you while gently cradling your face. There was no one at HQ right now, even Lyla was busy taking care of surveillance for him, the moment was ripe with opportunity.

But then you let out a little whimper in your sleep, disrupting the steady rhythm of your breathing and Miguel flinched. The shock was enough to snap him out of his daze and he quickly withdrew, harshly reprimanding himself. He had foolishly loosened the leash a bit and that was enough to stir the beast inside of him, as it growled ready to pounce. He had to get away from you.

Miguel rushed out of the lab as fast and stealthy as he could. Once he steadied himself, he sent Lyla to wake you up and send you home. He returned to the lab only after making sure you were gone.

He passed by your empty workstation briefly only to retrieve his carafe, and was greeted with a forgotten article of clothing - your scarf. He grabbed it on a whim and was overcome with an urge to keep it. He knew he shouldn't, but the scarf was intensely doused with your scent and the demon inside of him was agitated. He kept it against his best judgment, it was to keep the monster at bay, he justified.

That night Miguel shamelessly defiled the scarf, keeping one side bunched up against his nose as he used the other extremity to furiously tug at his cock.

He watched helplessly as his relationship with you crumbled, all his own doing for the sole purpose of protecting you from himself. The resentment came in the form of him being a dickhead and the target was more often than not you. Today's mission debriefing just accentuated this reality. He just hoped you would understand.

—-----------------

You didn't.

1… 2… 3… 4…

You counted your reps as you hit the lowest point of your deep squats, inhaling through your nose as you descended, exhaling through your mouth as you ascended, the barbell heavy on your back. In your frustration, you decided to hit the gym area of the Strength and Conditioning Sector at the Society right after you left Miguel's lab to try channeling it into something productive.

You made sure to perform some first aid to your wound, wrapping your torso in bandages to protect it. You hoped that your self-administration of medical attention paired with your accelerated healing would suffice. Up until now, it was working just fine.

5… 6… 7… 8…

The Strength and Conditioning Sector was empty as it usually was at this time - early evening. It gave you the freedom to keep the lights as low as possible, so you could let the soothing image of Nueva York's skyline at night in through the tall glass panels. It helped you calm down.

Today it wasn't doing much to cool your jets though.

9… 10… 11… 12…

This was all so frustrating… He was so frustrating… After all you've done for the cause, after all you've done for him, this is your reward - being treated like you're faulty wiring, an unturning cog. Leave it to boy genius Miguel O'Hara to treat his team as mere assets instead of people.

The amount of effort you've been putting lately to not fuck up, to surgically cover all your bases has been gargantuan, of course you'd end up faltering. You should've known your energy would start running out at some point, but ignoring your body signals and underestimating the impact of prolonged periods of time neglecting your needs, all for the sake of efficiency and productivity had basically become second nature. Add that to the fact that Miguel has had his eyes trained on your every movement lately, it was a matter of time when you'd slip and he'd catch it.

All of that because you were far too stubborn to simply confront him as to why he started being an ass out of the blue.

13… 14… 15… 16…

Not to mention how all this commitment was relayed towards a cause you didn't fully believe in - Miguel's Canon Event Theory. Of course you wanted to help people, - you were a Spider-Woman after all - and working towards assisting as many people as possible was definitely ideal, but the CET wasn't that. The amount of holes and questions unanswered bothered you, gaps that could very much disprove the Theory altogether.The fact that all Spider Society's collective effort was channeled towards it was troublesome at best.

You brought it up to Miguel after your first few months as a member of the Society, but he just shrugged it off. As time went by you began to understand - it wasn't a theory, but a hypothesis. A hypothesis born from the crippling guilt of a man who lost everything. An ill-rationalization of his misfortune that he used as a coping mechanism.

And then you began to understand him. And that's where your problems started.

17… 18… 19… 20…

Miguel O'Hara - tall, handsome man, with an intellect to die for. Miguel O'Hara whose sharp cheekbones and dry sarcasm pierced you every time you interacted, even more than his fangs could. Miguel O'Hara who, under all that brooding persona had a sad, lonely individual who would surface briefly in the fleeting moments of stillness you two shared. Miguel O'Hara who had your heart between his talons and he didn't even know it.

It all started after your first day at HQ. As soon as you got back to your own dimension, you sat down at your desk with your shiny new watch and your handy tool box and began disassembling the portal device. You were mesmerized with Nueva York and the technology the year 2099 held and, as an Engineer, you were dying to get a better grasp at its intricacies. After you were happy with your tinkering, you reassembled it back together as if nothing ever happened, completely unaware that the device held a security system that had already sounded an alert back at HQ.

The next day you were promptly summoned to Miguel's Lab. After a good scolding that made you believe you'd certainly be kicked out, you were surprised to be offered a position as Miguel's assistant in his Lab. The prowess you showed in dealing with a technology so removed from your own reality proved him you were the person he was looking for - turns out having to deal with broken watches from the numerous of daily casualties every day was taking too much time and effort and he was in need of someone to handle this menial task for him. Golden chance to dive even deeper in this new technology, of course you accepted.

Big mistake.

The days passed and what started with an acknowledgement you definitely found him attractive, turned into a little crush. Your stupid lizard brain began craving his attention and you'd find yourself panicking a bit whenever you two interacted.

That's when you decided you needed to nip this feeling to the bud.

You used your gathered knowledge of 2099's technology and the tools at your disposal to develop and build your own project - a device to automate the process of fixing watches.

"It's simple: it assesses the type of damage in this scanner, sending the information to its own database, while also devising the best solution to each case" you said as you showcased the device to Miguel and Lyla "It then either remove and replace the damaged part OR discards the whole watch, amalgamating and recycling the materials to produce a new one entirely."

"Impressive!" Lyla responded. Miguel only hummed, his eyes slowly scanning the machine in front of him. You had hoped that by automating your job you'd no longer be needed in the Lab and thus would be able to distance yourself from Miguel and prevent any feelings from further blossoming.

Turns out that the best employee is seldom rewarded with more work.

"I have some projects that are… stalled at the moment," Miguel said after a while "It would be very beneficial to have someone to bounce ideas off of some of them."

It would not be long before the silly infatuation grew into raw and unapologetic love, and you hated every second of it.

You hated how he made you feel like a teenager in love again, the very prospect of seeing him filling you with a mixture of elation and anxiety. How you could easily spot him in the crowd, proof that your subconscious was actively seeking him. Despised how your gaze would automatically land on his back whenever you got distracted from whatever you were working on at the lab (and you would mentally slap yourself back to work once you realized it). Detested how the most innocent of touches, such as the accidental grazing of his hand on yours sent bolts of electricity through your whole body, making you yearn for more.

And you'd think there was some respite once you got to the safety of your home, away from the very source of your torment… Yet, it was in the stillness of familiarity that the risqué side of this infatuation took hold. Your mind wandered to him, wondering how it would feel to touch his bare skin, to trace every curve and crevice of his toned body massaging the stress of the day away. Would he enjoy it? Would he let out little sighs or loudly groan as you worked the knots away? Oh, how you'd like to help him relax, gently coaxing him to release all that pent-up tension in you.

Your hand would snake down the hem of your underwear almost on its own as the thoughts became more salacious. The whole ordeal only made facing him the next day even harder.

Miguel O'Hara had the power to turn you into the most pathetic version of yourself without moving a muscle. And for that he could never find out about any of this, the very thought utterly mortifying.

So you decided to pour all your feelings, all that love you harbored for him into the one thing you could do about it - assisting him. Becoming worthy of sharing the weight of the Multiverse he carried on his broad shoulders. You studied the multiverse in all its intricacies to the point of proposing viable solutions to eventual conundrums. You used your newfound knowledge of 2099's tech to hone your own equipment and even underwent an ongoing restricted training routine and diet in order to optimize your body for better performance during missions. All of that to help make his life easier, if only for a fraction.

But that alone couldn't shield you from the roller-coaster that was navigating the pull of your feelings against the pull of your rational mind. On a particularly difficult day, you reluctantly decided to ask Lyla to help you on a (non-ideal and very unhealthy) solution you had been marinating in the back of your head for a while.

"Lyla, do you have a minute?" You called out for the AI on your watch. Her little orange sprite appeared instantly.

"What 's up?" She asked cheerfully. You swallowed hard before speaking again.

"I need your help with something," you said in a whisper. Miguel wasn't around, but you decided to be extra careful all the same "But Miguel can't find out."

"I know he has granted you full access to all my features, but he can override the secrecy protocol if he so wishes," She responded "I cannot guarantee he will not know it."

"It's all right, It shouldn't pique his interest unless you bring it up to him," You said "Could you avoid that?"

"Sure thing." She agreed.

"Very well… " You said, pausing to take a deep breath "I need you to find a Miguel O'Hara variant in my dimension."

"Oh" Lyla exclaimed before a knowing grin made its way into her features "Ooooh, I knew it! You have the hots for Miggy!"

"Shhh, keep it down!" You urged her "Yes, and he can't know that. I just need a way to channel this into something else… Into someone else."

"Wouldn't it be easier to just confess to him?" Lyla said matter-of-factually "We don't need to buy a new Miguel, honey. We have a Miguel at home."

"Don't be absurd," you answered, ignoring her joke "I'll be lucky if he just laughs at my face."

"Your call," Lyla yielded.

In the end she couldn't find a Miguel variant alive in your dimension. And so your plight continued with no end in sight and a lot of damage to your psyche.

21… 22… 23… 24…

But recently, something changed.

What was a relatively amicable relationship you and Miguel shared before started turning sour seemingly out of nowhere. The usual sarcastic banters you two engaged with whenever you worked together in the lab disappeared, his tone shifted to something more distant, akin to professional and he rarely ever left his platform anymore.

It's not like the two of you were particularly close before, he was your superior after all, but there was a level of mutual understanding that had blossomed from your shared work at the lab when the ordeal of monitoring the Society quieted down a little. It was a friendship between peers of the same interest, the exchanges ripe with dry sarcasm and teasing. Sometimes even flirty (or so you thought).

"You have my condolences …" Miguel spoke approaching from behind you, the tone in his voice a harbinger of mockery. But still, you took the bait.

"And why, pray tell, is that?" You asked, turning on your stool while pulling your protective goggles up to face him.

"The educational system in your dimension truly failed you, did it not?" He bent his torso over the desk you were working on, a hand on it supporting his weight, his other hand on his hip. With him closer, you could clearly see the smirk he casted at you. You rolled your eyes, bracing for the impact.

"Why would you think that?"

"Oh, it is very clear to me you can't read since you're blatantly ignoring the safety protocol from the manual I gave you for the usage of the very tool you're holding."

"Eat shit, O'Hara," you playfully smacked his abdomen with your elbow. "I read the protocol but this way of using it is way more efficient and safe all the same and you know it."

"Oh, you're the expert now then? I should be having you writing the documentation on tool usage instead of having you working the machinery huh?"

"You know you need me here, O'Hara." You smugly quipped, looking at him… but he didn't promptly respond. You watched his eyebrows rise up at your words, his burgundy eyes searching yours for something you couldn't quite catch while the tension his pause bestowed made you start worrying your words might have been misinterpreted. Even worse was that little delusional part of you that made you believe such an action held any semblance of reciprocation to your feelings.

After what felt like an eternity he spoke again. His voice dripped with something sweeter, but still with the familiar tinge of spice your banters usually carried "I'm certain you're the one that needs me."

The abrupt end to this dynamic would have saddened you. Heck, it'd have somewhat relieved you at the prospect of some reprieve from your roller-coaster of emotions… If it wasn't for his new constant surveillance.

Miguel started to watch you like a hawk, analyzing your every move under a microscope, never missing a chance to criticize or nitpick whatever you were doing. Suddenly your work at the lab wasn't as efficient, the missions you went on didn't produce as many good results and even the way you addressed the other Spiders wasn't ideal.

All that pent-up frustration of navigating your feelings for him became good fodder for the shift in your own tone. You couldn't help but become petty, picking fights at every chance you had.

"I already told you are using that tool wrong," came a baritone voice from behind you.

You sighed, pulling up your protective goggles. The ire inside of you was already boiling, readying you for the imminence of combat. "And I already told you this is a more efficient way to use it."

"You are going to hurt yourself if you keep at it" He responded. His own tone getting stricter.

"I need to get this done by the end of today and this way of using it significantly cuts time," you insisted. Voice picking volume while you smacked every word with venom. "And speaking of time, you are very much wasting mine, O'Hara. So it would be everyone's best interest if you could kindly fuck-off."

Before you knew it, you started resenting him. Whenever he complained about your endeavors, you spat back at him, seldom escalating the situation. At times your bickering would turn into a shouting contest, the noise reverberating outside the Lab. More often than not you felt the urge to lunge at him during these fights, to pin him to the ground and shut him up - you just couldn't figure out if it was with a kiss or a punch across the jaw.

And today only served to rub more salt on the wound.

25… 26… 27… 28…

On a mission you thought you had wrapped up well enough, you paid a little less attention to the aftermath and the Anomaly broke free, piercing you with a sharp projectile. Lyla's sudden warning was the only thing that kept your enemy's attack from striking a more vital area. You were able to dislodge the bolt and recapture the Anomaly, this time being able to bring him with you to HQ. But Lyla's appearance meant only one thing: Miguel was watching you. And he had a front row seat to your failure, the scolding from before was practically a given… But still made you fume nonetheless.

You poured every single bit of you into this man and his Society, was it not enough? What could you possibly be doing wrong to prompt this keen surveillance out of him? Couldn't he just tell you instead of intensively watching you as he waited for an opportunity to belittle you once you inevitably fail? To put you to the test despite everything else you've done for the Multiverse so far? Was that even a failure? You caught the Anomaly and brought it here. Your mission was a success. It was an undeniable success. It was a GODDAMN SUCC…

"ARGH!"

The sound of the barbell hitting the floor behind you echoed through the empty room. You fell to your knees, grasping the bandages over your wound as you felt a warm liquid seep through it - blood.

You got careless. Again.

As your mind wandered and the anger of your pent-up frustration took over, the conscious effort to keep tension away from your midsection to avoid exerting unnecessary pressure on your wound faltered and the extra weight you held forced it open once more. So much for training to better the body.

It didn't matter, your accelerated healing factor would fix this… in time. With a resolute exhale, you got up and decided to wrap up your training for the day. As long as Miguel didn't find out about this mishap and it didn't affect your performance, it should be OK.

It WOULD be OK. You were gonna make sure of it.

—-----------------

Your mission the next day was brought directly to you at your doorstep.

"Good morning, Sunshine!"

You woke up in a jolt as Lyla's sprite sprung from your watch at your bedside table, bathing your otherwise dark bedroom in a yellowish glow.

"Lyla! What was that for?" You barked, voice still raspy from sleep. The tell-tale warm brightness announcing the morning's arrival was nowhere to be seen, meaning it was very early. Too early to have HQ calling you.

"Get ready. We tracked an Anomaly in your Universe, a Green Goblin variant" the AI said, her usual playful tone gone "Miguel's on his way here."

You groaned as she disappeared, your first mission right after being put on probation and it started at an ungodly hour in your very own dimension. You maneuvered yourself out of bed and was bitterly reminded of your wound as soon as you tried to rotate your torso, the pain flushing the rest of sleep out of your system. Today you learned your superhuman healing factor couldn't miraculously stitch together a deep wound overnight, especially one you foolishly tore open a second time.

For a moment you debated if it was wise to throw yourself at a mission in your current state, but you swatted that thought out as fast as it came to you. They'd be able to summon another Spider to this mission no problem if so you wished, but you couldn't possibly give Miguel the satisfaction of learning you were careless enough to not only sustain an ugly wound, but also made it worse by being stubborn. Not to mention the utter distaste at letting him and someone else save your dimension in your stead - not happening. You could manage a little pain, you just needed to be careful.

You changed into your suit and equipped your gear as fast as you could and soon you were on your apartment's building rooftop. You were greeted by Miguel's back as he scouted your New York's (Santa Iorque) skyline. You loathed the blooming fondness, the heartache the sight still caused you.

"Go back to HQ, O'Hara. I'll handle this one myself," you spat. He turned his head slightly, the eyes in his mask narrowing down.

"You don't get a say in this" he retorted.

"Fine. Try not to get in my way, then" you jabbed, walking over to his side. You could feel Miguel shifting a little as you scanned the horizon for any sign of the Anomaly.

"Lyla, what's his location?" Miguel spoke to his watch.

"Still working on it," the AI responded, her sprite typing on a little computer "I'm experiencing a lot of interference, the cause is still unknown."

"What do you mean interfe– "

Before Miguel could finish, the loud bang of an explosion ripped through the air, leaving behind an expanding cloud of greenish smoke. You and Miguel briefly nodded at each other before rushing towards it.

Spotting the perpetrator wasn't hard. Cruising above a crescent-shaped hovercraft stood a figure you could only describe as a techno-imp with jester undertones. You jumped over them as they threw a second explosive, intercepting its trajectory mid-air with your hand, and launching it skyward as you landed on a rooftop nearby. The greenish explosion almost looked like fireworks.

"Well, that's what I'd call a ban… ugh, nevermind," you turned to your very annoyed opponent, if the frown on his display-like mask was anything to go by "Look, I'm not in the mood for snarky banter, so let's get this over wi–"

Your Spider-senses kicked in just in time for you to dodge a barbed javelin-like metal bolt. The sudden movement made your wound hurt, causing you to hold back a gasp. Miguel's red webbing ensnared the Goblin before they could fire a second one and just like that it seemed like the mission was over.

But the Goblin's right feet move to a button on his hovercraft and the next thing you know a piercing high-pitched noise reverberated all around you. Miguel's webbing glitched a few times before disappearing and you watched him panicking as his stupid holo-suit started glitching as well.

In a less tense moment maybe you'd feel embarrassed about his now half-exposed torso, but the Goblin's disappearing from your field of view proved more concerning. Suddenly, your senses kicked in again and you quickly glanced at the scene of a very distracted Miguel trying his hardest to revert - or at least stop - his forced undressing as the Goblin reappeared behind him, quickly closing in with their javelin gun ready to shoot.

You panicked. Miguel had his attention elsewhere, the piercing noise completely muffled the sound of his incoming attacker and he didn't have Spider-senses to alert him.

You had to save him.

On instinct, you lunged yourself in their direction, shooting your own web at the Goblin. But they spotted you, redirecting his aim, while you set the flying ropes of web ablaze. It all happened in a second, the web ensnared then just as they shot the javelin, your fire rapidly consuming the web until reaching the Goblin, the flames briefly engulfing them. You tried dodging the javelin again, but the whole ordeal was too much for your wound, the pain roused enough to snatch your attention for a millisecond, the exact amount of time you had to move away from it.

You didn't move away from it.

The javelin pierced the spot under your ribs right where your wound was. You fell on the rooftop with a loud thud, rolling a few times before stopping, leaving a trail of blood behind. You managed to open your eyes to see the Goblin hovering away in retreat and Miguel turning his head to you having seemingly managed to fix the glitch in his suit. You watched realization kicking in him as the eyes on his mask widened.

"¡Puta madre!" Miguel shouted as he flinged himself to your bent over form."This is why you can't go on missions by yourself."

"What?" You barked in pure incredulity, despite the searing pain below your rib cage "This is gah –…this is your fault!"

"How is this my fault?" He retaliated, crouching beside you as he tried to assess your wound. You swatted his hand away before he continued "You're the one who got careless. Again."

"I was protecting you, you mmnph–" you scrunched your face midsentece trying to get up, the motion sending another flash of pain through your system. Miguel tried helping you again, but you held his wrist in place before he could touch you. You had a point to make "You ungrateful fuck! Your lack of Spider-Sense was gonna be the end of you. This literally wouldn't have happened if you weren't here."

"You talk big for someone bleeding out" he retorted, freeing himself from your grip. His movement accidentally made you lose balance and you had no strength in you to regain it in time, but Miguel caught you before you hit the floor "Lyla, send someone to pick her up and take her to the Med Bay."

"Don't you dare… " you tried sounding assertive, but the pain reduced your voice to a whimper at best. Wound or no wound, you still had a mission to finish.

"¡Por dios! Can you quit being so stubborn for five minutes?" He spat back at you "¡OYE, LYLA! I need assistance!"

But once again the AI didn't respond. Miguel groaned in frustration and tried his best to dial the commands on his watch while holding you as you tried your best to trash your way out of his grip. But no matter what he did, the gizmo's only response was a continuous static noise paired with a greenish blank screen "¡Que carajo! Why's this thing not working?? LYLA! Can you hear me?"

Miguel groaned again, considering his options. You were losing a considerable amount of blood and the Anomaly was nowhere to be seen. He picked you up with one arm, trying his best to not jolt you.

"O'Hara… put me down," you complained, but there was no force to back it up. You started feeling light-headed on top of the pain.

"Shut-up," save your strength he meant to say, but that would convey more than he felt necessary. There was no time for frivolities and sentimentalism, he needed to act fast. With Lyla and his team off-line, his best option would be taking you back home.

He tested the integrity of his neon-red webbing, but it was no use - the quick work he did to stop his suit from fully disintegrating was crude at best, he was grateful to at least have prevented its meltdown in time to not be left completely exposed. He retracted his suit from his fingertips up to his wrist, getting his organic web shooters free - its string wasn't as strong as the neon-red artificial ones, but for aerial traversion it would more than suffice. Miguel positioned your torso over his shoulder with care, hugging your legs together with an arm (a part of him painfully aware of how soft your thighs were) and jumped off the rooftop, slinging himself away to your apartment.

You hated how comforting the warmth of his body was against your own, how his scent, a mixture of oak, spices and his own musk, was undeniably helping soothe the woes of your current predicament. The gentle way in which he held you, taking extra care to keep your body from wobbling too much while he carried you made your heart ache almost more than your wound was. It was in times like these, when his stoic facade faltered, giving way to the caring and sensible self underneath, that you remember why he held your heart.

Soon, you arrived at your apartment building. Miguel climbed through your bedroom window, gently placing you on your bed. He took the cover off of one of your pillows, handing it to you.

"Here, press this against your wound to stop the bleeding," he said, the mask of his suit retracting to reveal his angled face "Do you have a first-aid kit?"

"I–, y-yeah, it's in the cabinet under the bathroom sink," you answered. Taking the cover from his hand, you quickly folded it in half and did as he told you, wincing a bit at the contact. Miguel was back with the medical box not long after.

"You'll have to let me take a look at it," he said, placing the box on the bed next to you. His words were demanding, but the tone conveyed nothing of the sort - it was a question, he was asking for permission.

"Y- yeah, of course," you answered, uncovering your wound. Miguel kneeled next to bed getting closer while bringing his hands to your torso. You watched entranced the furrow in his brows as his red eyes darted quickly left and right, his digits gently probing the area around the wound.

"Doesn't seem to have pierced anything serious," he muttered "But it's odd…"

It was your time to furrow your brows "What is?"

"The wound from yesterday should've be in a more advanced state of healing," he said "you do have the hastened healing factor in your power repertoire."

You tensed a bit, looking away. The last thing you needed right now was him finding out about your mishap at the Conditioning and Strength sector yesterday. But of course, Miguel being Miguel caught that little shift in your body language.

"What happened?" He asked right away, bringing his eyes up to you without lifting his head.

"There was… an accident yesterday," you began, trying to find the words. As much as you didn't want him finding out about the Gym incident, there was no point in lying. Better try to soften the blow "Exerted myself too much and the wound reopened."

"Dios mio, that's why the gash was so deep…," Miguel mumbled under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose "Why the shock were you exerting yourself when you should have been resting?"

A surge of anger started blooming in your chest at his inquiry. It was risky to go into a training session with your wound, you knew that. You also knew there were a million other ways to blow off steam if that was all it was to it. But increasing endurance, enhancing conditioning, building up muscle - all of these were connected to improvement. This self-imposed never-ending quest for leveling up all in the name of helping Miguel, in an attempt to placate your feelings for him.

All for him.

Maybe you should have stopped to consider your well-being instead of going straight to the brawny way of amping-up yourself. There ought to be something else that could mindlessly soothe your nerves while also working as a method of improvement - the way exercising often did -, but yesterday you weren't exactly thinking. There was no bandwidth left to think, you were just so fucking tired.

Tired of putting so much effort in the pursuit of the right to share the weight of the responsibility he carried. Tired of seeing your comfortable platonic relationship you two once shared start to wane seemingly out of nowhere, despite all your efforts to prove yourself worthy of his good graces. Tired of how, despite all of this, your heart stubbornly kept yearning for him.

You were in dire need of respite.

"This is such bullshit," you croaked, clenching your palms into fists.

"What did-," Miguel couldn't finish. With a loud exhale, you shoved Miguel's hands away from you while throwing your legs down the other side of the bed. You hurled yourself up, the adrenaline from your anger fueling your body was the only thing keeping the pain and dizziness at bay.

"I'm done. I quit Spider-Society," you barked through gritted teeth, making your way to your wardrobe while pressing the pillowcase to your wound. You knew you had some strong compression tape in there that should keep yourself from bleeding out until you were done with the mission "I'm catching the goddamn Anomaly. I'm not letting my universe get nuked today, but after that I'M FUCKING DONE."

"Stop! Get back here, you're in no condition to be moving around like that. Let alone finish this mission."

"I don't give a shit about what you think," you barked back, rummaging through your wardrobe. "I'm still this dimension's one and only Spider-Woman. I have a duty with these citizens and I'm gonna protect them."

Suddenly, you felt your wrist being held. You turned around only to meet Miguel's eyes. But instead of finding irritation you found… helplessness.

"Please, stop… " the abrupt shift of tone in his voice chipped at your rage. There was caution, fear and a bit of… desperation? It made you pause, if only for pure bewilderment.

"Why should I?" the flames of your ire had been subdued, but the heat of the ember underneath still burned hot "Our priority is catching the Anomaly and safeguarding this dimension."

He exhaled, casting his eyes down to where his hand met your wrist. When he brought them back to meet your gaze, you were presented with his familiar stoic frown "You're going to jeopardize this mission in your current condition."

There it was, the spark to reignite your wrath.

"Shut the fuck up, O'Hara," you snapped, yanking your wrist away from his grasp. "I don't care about your mission, I just need to catch that Anomaly and save my city." You turned to him, angrily pointing at his chest, "YOU shouldn't be here. YOU are also an Anomaly! Get the FUCK out of here, O'Hara. I'm DONE being your silly little plaything!"

The knot in his brow softened a bit at your words.

"You're not my plaything." He uttered, a bit unsure.

You stiffened, your eyes unfocused darting left and right contemplating the stuff you just said. You bitterly realized that in your fury, you had let out more than you needed to. You searched his face for disgust or discomfort but found a concerned confusion in his eyes.

Swallowing your pride, you decided to press on.

"I'm so tired, Miguel," you muttered in a long exhale "I've been trying so hard, working so much to help keep the multiverse safe… But it feels like the more I do, the worse you treat me." You felt your legs start getting wobbly as the adrenaline waned down, but you had a point to make. "No matter how hard I try, you tell me everything I'm doing is wrong…" you let your hands fall to your sides as the dizziness came back full throttle. With half-lidded eyes, you met Miguel's face once again before muttering "Why am I… even… here…"

"Because I need you"

You barely registered Miguel's response before you collapsed. The last thing you remembered was him rushing to your side as everything became black. ---------------------

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (soon)

191 notes · View notes

mandy-asimp · 4 months

Text

Fast lane

Melissa Schemmenti x oc!racer

Smut, language, there's a fire accident at a point but other than that it's like mostly wholesome

Happy Fri-YAY🥳

It was close to Valentine's Day, the holiday would fall on a Saturday, and the school was buzzing with hearts.

The red head sat in the teachers lounge on her phone. Her eyes focusing on the text that was sent not too long ago. A geeky smile on her face.

A picture of her girlfriend in the airport with a

'good morning' text following under.

Melissa's girlfriend was constantly flying but also had long breaks in between. After all, being a famous NASCAR driver had its pros and cons.

How the two met is a story she has waited for someone to ask her about.

Melissa was with family when it happened. She was walking around trying to find anywhere to get food from when she realized she was lost. Her first instinct was to ask the first person in sight.

Which just happened to be Phoebe Stern. A new driver who was about to have her first race.

The nervousness must've really shown as Melissa met her eyes. Suddenly coming to the others aid and trying to get her to take deep breaths. "You're ok, just breathe hun. Deep breath in....and out..." she had coaxed the young woman.

After a few minutes she had calmed down and finally really looked at the woman. Meeting soft green eyes that could tell stories for days. "What's got you so worked up, huh?" Her voice. It's wasn't what the racer was expecting but it matched almost perfectly.

"It's my first race. My big debut. What if I'm not all I'm cracked up to be? What if I do so bad?" The younger began to panic again. Feeling hot tears burn her eyes.

"Hey, you're ok! You will go out there and do your absolute best. You are about to make history as the youngest female NASCAR driver. You're doing great so far, so you'll go out there and give it your absolute best. Plus you already have fans cheering you on." She reassured Phoebe. Carefully, she wiped away the spilled tears with a huge smile.

Phoebe couldn't help but feel warms don't I fly at the action. How that smile captivated her and gave her motivation to do everything in her will to win the race. The woman was her motivation. For what reason, she didn't know, but it felt right.

"Thank you, really. It's nice to know there's still people out there who care for others. I'm Phoebe, but you already knew that." She held out her hand, waiting for the other to shake it. Slightly smiling when the red head had.

"Melissa, and of course. Now, do you know where Ican get any food?" She changed the topic. Looking around a bit for any stand.

Phoebe couldn't help but let out a laugh. "There was a pizza stand just over there. The line was dragging though. But if you want, I can have Stephen to my locker room and we had a little pre-race buffet. There's still food left, feel free to help yourself really. Least I could do." The brunette offered. Her smile showing nothing but honesty and purity. "It'll also get you more for free and before the race starts."

Just then a manager came up to rush her away.

Whispering a 'let's go' before trying to usher her out to the car for a few pre-race interviews.

However, Phoebe in a quick manner rushed over to Stephen. Whispering in his ear and smiling at the woman before running off to the blue race car.

That was only their first interaction. Their second was less frantic. And more digital.

Later that night, after hours of celebrating Phoebe's first race and first win, she had gotten drunker than known. Leaving the party at nearly four in the morning in a cab back to her hotel.

Sending out a few gibberish texts and crashing.

Melissa was just waking up at the time, furrowing her brows at the unknown number but reading (trying to read) the few texts. Picking out that they were compliments of sorts and giving a sleepy smile.

She sent a few text back, mostly talking about taking care of the hangover that's going to happen and to text her when whoever it was wasn't drunk and could actually get out a full sentence. Obviously she sent it in a nicer way, with a few nicknames here and there.

Once Phoebe woke up, she immediately apologized. Mostly for getting her number without actually asking her.

That was all nearly eight years ago. Now the Daytona 500 was coming up once more. Phoebe was heading down a few days early for a lot of press events. Melissa would head down the Friday before the race.

"I think nascar is a fun thing, I wish I could attend a race once. Just to see the Wonder Woman of racing, Phoebe Stern. She's trying to bet someone's record, just don't know who's." Janine practically hopped into the teachers lounge. Acknowledging all the other teachers in the room with her cheery smile.

"Isn't it Josh something?" Gregory guessed from making his coffee.

Jacob shook his head, "No it's another female right?" He pulled out his phone, ready to look up the answer.

Before he even put in his password, Melissa chirped, "she's trying to beat Jimmie Johnson. He's won like seven Daytona races, but she has years to catch up."

The room was silent, "Melissa, I didn't take you for a NASCAR fan?" Janine sounded confused.

Loving when melissa would slightly open up about herself.

"There's a lot you don't know about me kid. I've been a fan of NASCAR for, I dunno, eight maybe nine years? Never miss a race." She hummed, going back to her phone and minding her own business.

The rest of the conversation she tuned out and just texted back and forth with her girlfriend. Attempting to school her features from showing anything In front of her colleagues.

"What about you Melissa? What are your plans for Valentines? Any special someone you'll be having?" Janine called out to the woman, breaking her away from her phone.

"Well the Daytona race is Valentines weekend and I already planned to go." She shortly answered.

"If Melissa did have any big plans, I'm sure Barb knows all about them." Ava came in. A dirty smile playing at her lips. "So come on Barb, spill her secrets!"

Barb had a look of 'are you serious' on her face. "I wouldn't dare tell someone else's business. If Melissa wanted us to know what she was doing, she would tell us. She hasn't mentioned anyone t me though," the kindergarten teacher let out. Moving from the table before anything could happen to her.

"Melissa, no offense, but you gotta get out there.

You're starting to seem like a prude." Ava had a disappointed look as she left the room. Other teachers following as their lunches came to an end.

Melissa sending out a few more text before leaving as well to get her class from gym. She was minding her own, rereading a few text, when she could hear Janine running up on her. "No Janine I will not be talking about my plans for the weekend. What I do outside of school is not your business nor should you want it to be."

"Ok, but I was going to ask more about this Daytona race?" Janine finally caught up. Walking alongside the other teacher eager for answers. "I mean really how did you get tickets? They sold out within the hour. Not to forget how expensive the whole trip is."

"I know a guy." Was all she answered with and ended the conversation. "If you still like it next year, maybe I'll get you a ticket to come with and you can bring Jacob. Sound like a deal?"

"Deal!" She squealed and ran off. Eager to tell the other of the offer.

Melissa shook her head but continued with her day. Counting down the days till she was on her mini break.

And after a few days that felt like eternity, it was finally Friday.

It was an hour before the day had ended and Melissa had sent her kids off to art class. Her phone began ringing and she didn't need to look to see who it was.

"And what do I owe this honor?" She teased.

"Yeah, yeah, I wanted to let you know that Mikayla will be stopping by the house to grab your bags, then to get you from work to take you to the airport. She's agreed to watch the house while we're gone and to get us once we're back home. I also told her to grab you an airport outfit. I figured you wore either those sexy black pants or a pair of jeans that make you look even sexier." The voice of her girlfriend played in her ear. Lighting up her day by just the sound of her voice.

Melissa let out a soft hum. "You really know how to flatter a woman. And I did wear my sexy black pants. They looked nice with my pink top and boots." She described lightly what her outfit looked like. Yet she knew Phoebe already knew exactly what the outfit looked like.

"I love that outfit on you. Sad I can't be there to see it on you and take it off," she hummed, only to go silent after. Fiddling around with something in the hotel room.

Melissa listened, hoping to figure out what she was messing with. "Hun? You still there?" She broke into the silence. Getting a distant hum from the other end of the line. "Pheebs? What are you doing that had you so distracted?"

"Oh just some papers for the race tomorrow, just a few waivers so if anything goes wrong." The brunette simply answered. Phoebe had lied right through her teeth. In her hand was the rings she had bought for Melissa.

Watching as the moss agate and diamonds shined in the light. A giddy smile pulling at her lips.

"You know I don't like when you say that. Nothing will go wrong and you'll be fine." Melissa huffed. She really hated when Phoebe would mention those waivers. Yes it was always a possibility but not one she liked to hear or think of for an even a second. It worried her how Phoebe was always so calm with what she does.

"I can't wait to see you tonight." Phoebe let out, changing the topic entirely. Feeling an overwhelming sense of happiness to see her girlfriend again. Putting the ring back in her bag and putting it back in the corner.

Melissa felt loved at those words. The thought of someone waiting for her just did things she couldn't explain. Especially after Joe when she was so young. She never thought she would get the chance of love again. But here was this young racer who had millions of people dying to take her out, and she chose a second grade teacher.

Melissa knew Phoebe loved her deeply. It was in the words that would be said, the amount of emotion in her voice, the looks she would only give to Melissa. Even after all the ups and downs, Phoebe never once thought of leaving her side. Always there to reassure any bad thought that could come to Melissa's mind.

"Only a few more hours, hun. Then I'll watch you win and we'll go out to celebrate," the red head put the phone on speaker on her desk. Sorting out her last hour before the day ended. "What are your plans for the rest of the day?"

"Well I have a press conference to talk about how I feel about my eighth Daytona race. Questions are probably going to be if I think I'll win, if I'll be able to beat the record finally, what training I've been doing, questions about other drivers. I'll save my cocky smile because there's always a chance I won't win no matter how good I think I am. But then I have an early dinner planned with a few racers. Then l'll be back before you arrive at the hotel to greet you." Phoebe summarized the rest of her day. Leaning back to fall onto the bed, letting out a huff.

Melissa couldn't help the laugh, "sounds like a hard, hard day." She teased. A groan being her answer. "It's only a few more hours. Then you have a long, long, season to play out."

"Don't remind me!" Phoebe cried, covering her face with her hands. There was another short silence.

"Pheebs?"

"I think I'm ready to be done after this season." She quietly confessed.

"What?" Melissa froze in her seat. Picking up the phone to her ear. "What do you mean?"

"Ten out of the twelve months I'm gone racing. I hardly get to see you. I'm coming close to thirty-five and I've spent my twenties well. I've traveled the world, did what I love, but now I want to be with who I love. You've supported me since the first race I ever did, now it's my turn to come support you." Phoebe was quiet while explaining.

Staring up to the ceiling as she thought about life after.

"But what about beating the record?" Melissa questioned. Wanting to know where this suddenly came from. "You love racing, hun. I love watching you race."

"I've already made history. Nobody's won seven Daytona races in a row. I train and train, but I'm ready to give up my throne to another young racer. Next year there's supposed to be the next me coming in. And I've watched her race, I've raced with her, I've taught her. She's ready to take my number and I'm ready to give it to her. My legacy is getting carried on, and I know that." Phoebe stretched out.

Melissa thought for a moment. "What ever you choose hun, I will be your biggest fan and your number one fan." She reassured. "But I have to go, have to go get my class. I'll see you tonight though angel. I love you."

"Alrighty, I love you too Mel. I'll see you in a few hours." Phoebe ended the call, almost instantly rolling over to burry her face and take a quick nap.

Melissa sat still for only a moment, processing the news. A part of her was so overjoyed to hear it all, but also sad to know that the goal was almost completed.

Meanwhile Phoebe was being ambushed to get ready for the press. A light touch up being done to her hair and makeup. The outfit being laid out on the bed.

If there was anything Phoebe didn't expect from the dream, was becoming a fashion influence. It only happened because she wore her race jacket out one day and everyone thought it was a fashion statement. She let them go with it anyways and decided to start a collection of race jackets to wear. They kept her warm during the

seasons.

"You know, they're gonna ask about your girlfriend. After you posted that little anniversary thing back in January. Everyone's been trying to get you on talk shows for it." Stephen walked in, handing the lemon water over.

"Thank you, and yeah probably. I mean I've been dating her for over five years now. In a few days she'll be my finance hopefully." She took a sip of the drink, humming in approval. "You've never failed to make my lemon water taste just right."

"I've been your manager since you were a child. Of course I know how to keep you pleased. Plus the new you.." he trailed off moving around to start getting things tidied up.

Phoebe huffed. "She's going through something right now. I'll talk to her tomorrow anyways, she's watching next to you today. I mean after this season, she's the one who you'll have to talk through a press, not to forget races. So be patient with her. You were with me, and she's almost as good as me. In a few years I bet she'll be better than me."

Stephen hummed in disagreement. "Nobody will ever be better than you. I don't think anyone else will win seven Daytona races in a row."

There was a collective agreement from the team working on her. Making her realize, she has made history already. This race will just add to her achievements.

"How did Melissa feel about you telling her you're done after this season?" The lanky brunette sat in a chair close by. Still scrolling through the schedule laid out for them. "She upset?"

"She didn't sound upset. She said she'd support me no matter what. If anything, and she wouldn't have admitted if, but I think she was thrilled i decided to call it now." She watched as they worked on fixing her makeup and hair. How they moved so carefully but efficiently.

"And how do you feel?"

"Like I can do normal people things now. I can spend time with people and not just two months. I don't have to worry about racing as much. Next year I'll get to get a dog maybe." She went over. Smiling at the idea of settling down finally with Melissa.

The two of them together just doing nothing for a day. The two of them traveling more. The two of them cooking. The two of them drinking. The two of them partying. The two of them celebrating.

Just the two of them.

"Well before I loose you into your fantasies, get changed so we can get this over with. And we're going quick. You'll do press, come back and change into the dress, then to dinner. Then you'll get dropped off before I go pick up Melissa and bring her back." Stephen summed up before leaving with the hair and makeup. "Make it quick princess!" He called back.

Phoebe yelled back and then just stood in the room. Staring into the mirror. This was it. The start of the weekend. "One race. Then proposal. That's all." She mumbled to herself.

Melissa watched as the clock slowly ticked over.

Almost cheering as the final bell rang. For the last hour she's let her kids have a valentines party. It was the easiest excuse to distract them and be able to watch Phoebe's press. Smiling when they asked several questions about the anniversary post.

She began to pack up after walking all her kids out and making sure they got picked up. It was just her and her silence before it was ruined.

"So. Are you going to tell me why you're rushing out and suddenly a fan of NASCAR? Or am I just in the dark with everyone else?" Barb stopped by the door. Once Melissa looked up, the older walked closer, closing the door behind her. "Who is he?"

Melissa frowned at this. "I've always been a fan of

NASCAR, just figured it wasn't a topic you would ever want to talk about."

"Melissa, you have told me every detail about your life and for someone who claims to have liked racing for almost a decade, I would think it's something that gets mentioned once." Barb frowned. Sitting on the first desk in front of the teacher desk.

The red head only shrugged. Secretly wanting to explode and tell all about her girlfriend. "I have to go, but we can talk more when I get home?"

"Melissa Schemmenti, I don't know what you're hiding but I better be the first to know." Barb hugged the friend goodbye. Leaving to let the other be free for her weekend excursion.

Phoebe sat at the dinner table. The baby blue dress clingy to her figure as she chatted with the other racers her age.

"So, you and your girlfriend? It's been what, eight years? You tying that knot soon?" Mike had piqued interest. "I mean you posted an anniversary thing back in like January."

Phoebe shook her head with a smile. "Not that it's any of your business, but I am planning on proposing this weekend. We have a dinner just the two of us on Sunday before we fly home." She confessed. Feeling the butterflies at just the thought of proposing.

"And are you gonna show the world?" Andrew jumped in. The boys quick to jump on the train of questions.

"What is this? An interrogation? You guys have never shown interest in my relationship, why start now?" Phoebe narrowed her eyes at the table. Waiting for one of them to crack.

They all shared a look. "Well I mean, after you posted about her, it's hard not to be curious. We knew she existed but you went public. It's free game now. If press can ask, so can we." Joey answered for the group. "So come on. You've met all our wives. Now tell us about yours."

"Well, we met on my first race and I told myself that she was my motivation. After I went out and drank galore, I texted her drunken compliments and then after three years of talking and getting to know her and gain her trust, I ask her to be my girlfriend for the billionth time and she said yes. She's been to almost all my races, and has been my biggest fan since day one. And now I get to be her biggest fans in hope she says yes." She babbled on. Zoning out on everyone as she thought of her Melissa.

The boys all joked and teased her. It was the greatness of being close with the other racers.

They were always like big brothers. Always supporting each other if one won or if they all lost. They still made light of every race.

There was a text from Stephen that lit up the phone. Showing off the lock screen of Melissa. Dave was the first to grab at the phone. Examining the picture entirely. "Ya know, I would've never thought you for red heads." He chuckled.

"Red head?!" Andrew shouted while practically flying from his seat. Everyone trying to gather around and see the screen.

Tim was shocked the most. "A milf?!" He had wide eyes, like he had seen the world explode. "Thats Who your girlfriend is?!"

"Five years strong. Boutta make her my wife. Give her the wedding she dreams of. Settle down and take care of her ya know? Let her be able to do things she never has." Phoebe reached for her phone, not pleased when they all pulled it away and gave her a look. "It's my phone!"

"But it's about to be us who have the conversation," Joey smirked. Instantly being handed the phone. "Hey hun, just wanted to let you know I've landed!" He read in a girly voice.

"She landed?!" It was Phoebe's turn to look shocked. "I have to go. I'm supposed to meet her back at the hotel. It was nice to have dinner with you guys. I'll see you tomorrow!" She grabbed her phone, holding her dress up as she ran out with her jacket thrown over her shoulders. Listening to the boys laugh as she moved quickly in heels.

She ran right out into the car and was off before anyone could recognize who it was. Praying Stephen wouldn't drive her back, especially after she spammed his phone to detour.

Within fifteen she was back at the hotel and in her room. Moving the ring out of her bag and into her racing bag. Knowing Melissa doesn't go in there as much as any other bag.

Just as she zipped up the bag, the door opened and in walked Stephen and Melissa. "She should be back by now. Maybe changing out of her dress." He mentioned and walked back to the door. "Tell her ass to be up by ten and ready to go by eleven. The track lets people in around noon and the race is set to start at one. Goodnight Melissa."

"Will do, night." She bowed her head, trying to remember all the times to tell you. Giving the man a second to leave before rushing into the bedroom. Eager to see this dress you were in.

Melissa didn't even bother to knock as she opened the door. Freezing in awe at how the baby blue did Phoebe justice. How it hugged her figure deliciously. The slit up the leg that showed off a little bit of her tattoo. The silver heels that wrapped around her calves.

"Hi hun," she said softly. Still staring at her beautiful girlfriend. Really burning the picture into her head. "Is that what you wore to dinner with the guys?"

A careful hum was her answer. "They asked about you. It seems everyone is curious about you. They want to meet you I think," a small laugh left Phoebe's lips. "I missed you." She came up to Melissa. Hugging her like she would disappear at any second. And the older hugged just as tight. The two just enjoying the other in the moment.

"You should wear dresses more. You look really good in them." Melissa teased, pinching the sides of her girl. "Let's get you changed, then we can settle in. You have a big day tomorrow."

"I'm happy you're here with me then," Phoebe pecked her cheek before pulling away and pushing Melissa onto the bed. Crouching to take of her boots. "I told Mikayla to grab you your travel slippers. I'm sorry you were in boots the entire time."

The green eyed beauty was confused. The action wasn't what she had really meant, but she couldn't oppose. Not to a face like that. So she just let Phoebe continue to undress her all while in that blue dress.

The two fell into a peaceful silence as Phoebe moved around to get pajamas for them both.

This is what Melissa had craved for so long. This domestic feeling. That everything was playing out how it was meant to be. She had someone who wanted to take care of her forever and now she had it. Her everything was moving around the hotel room in a baby blue dress and sparkly heels.

She was so lost in the feeling she didn't realize the tears that began to creep up on her. "Mel?" Phoebe's voice brought her back. "Sweetheart you're tearing up, what's wrong?" Phoebe was back in front of her, crouching to look up at her.

Melissa opened her mouth and just gave a dry laugh. "I love you so incredibly much, hun. That's all. You found me when I was at my lowest and you lifted me up all the way. And I can't thank you enough."

Phoebe blushed and beamed. Melissa had seen this smile few times but it was a smile full of pure happiness and love and care. It was the smile she wore when they finally became official. The same smile she wore when they said 'I love you' for the first time. The smile she reserved for Melissa, and only Melissa.

"I love you too, Mel. From every part of me." She grinned as she stood up. "Absolutely in love." She thought out loud while looking at Melissa. Taking her in now and here.

"Come on, your turn." The woman wiped her tears.

Moving so Phoebe could sit down. "And it's ok she forgot my shoes, saves me space and shoe dilemmas."

Phoebe softly laughed, "still though. Now you have to wear boots to the race. I mean they make you look sexy don't get me wrong, but your feet will be aching."

"Well then I guess tomorrow night you'll have to help me out of them and soothe the ache. Do you think you could do that?" Her voice was teasing, making the younger shiver. And when they met eyes, Phoebe saw nothing but mischief, making her cheeks burn at the ideas. "My little racer. What would I do without you?"

"I can tell you what you wouldn't be doing," Phoebe smirked. Having a playful joke lined up but lost it as Melissa's eyes darkened before her.

"And what's that hun?" She let her hands wander up the soft legs, only to rake her nails down them. Humming in sheer delight at the physically shudder. "Cause I know exactly what I am going to do. And it starts with getting rid of this dress."

The manicured hand pushed the silky fabric up her legs. Revealing the blue panties that were decorated with a little white bow.

Melissa pulled on her shoulder, causing Phoebe to fall onto her back. "This how you get everyone into bed, Ms.Schemmenti?"

"Only cute racers." Her hands were holding onto hips. Massaging her finger tips into the soft skin. "But I'll save this for tomorrow night." She pulled away.

A boo was given in return. "Now you got me all hot and bothered." Phoebe exhaled dramatically. "Room service and a movie?"

Melissa placed a kiss to her forehead. "Sounds like my type of night. You shower first and I'll order for us, even pick their good wine."

"No wine, just food and us. And come shower with me, it'll save us both time." Phoebe gradually made it to the bathroom. Having a luring look in her eyes. Melissa let a Cheshire grin take over as she followed close behind.

For the next forty-five minutes, the two were lost in the shower. It had started of sweet and wholesome. Melissa had her hands in the mane of brown, scratching and scrubbing away any stress and worry. And it would've stayed that way had she not scratched right by the nape of the neck. Earning a muffled whine and her girlfriend even closer to her.

She let out a light chuckle and continued. Thinking nothing but a reflect of it. But when the noises happened a few times more, Melissa couldn't contain herself. The idea of just her touch doing so much to someone drove her insane.

That's why her lips found the soft neck. Kissing up to the pulse point and sinking her teeth in carefully. Sucking hard on the point, taking joy in how Phoebe squirmed immensely at the action.

Her head fell to give more access, crying out when curious hands found her boobs. She was ready to give everything and skip dinner.

It didn't help when Melissa spun her and kissed her hard. Hard and passionate. Every ounce of her love was poured out through just a single kiss.

Melissa felt hungry. Her hands began to hunt for anything to inflict more sounds. Desperate to hear any lewd noise that was caused by her.

First it was a hand slithering across Phoebe's stomach that made her chill, but it was the squeezing of her hips that made her shake with need. "Please Mel.." was lost in the steamy air as a skilled hand parted her legs and finding the right spot almost instantly. Teasing her clit with slow, agonizing circles that only took her so far.

"My sweet girl..." Melissa hummed as she added more pressure. Her lips found a spot right next to Phoebe's ear. Letting out a warm breath against the shell before bitting on it. Pulling a moan that would make a porn star blush.

It took them both back. They stopped and stared at each other. Both blushing, one more than the other, but just staring at each other. A hand reached to the ear. Stroking over where she bit. "Sensitive ears?" Melissa faintly smiled.

Phoebe shrugged, "I didn't know either." She huffed. "So..."

"Are you ok? Do you need a moment or anything?" Melissa tilted her head, worry evident in her eyes.

She was ready to care for the brunette almost instantly.

Phoebe shied away, feeling a small blush creep in her. "Do it again?" She looked through her lashes. Driving Melissa up a wall with the simple expression.

Melissa pulled her by the waist, flush against her body now. Phoebe could feel their heart beats finding the same rhythm.

In the moment she could only feel love. This was her other half. Her definite soul mate. Their hearts were united to one.

Her thoughts were mushed when she felt the same sensation. This time it was longer and full of hands grabbing at her skin. Melissa always knew how to touch her. How to make her absolute putty in her very hands.

Phoebe would be a fool not to let her. Her hands ran over Melissa's, trying to direct them towards her thighs. Eager for the hands to work their own magic.

No matter how many times they did this act, Phoebe could always feel her heart thumping in her chest. Feeling like at any second her ribs would break and her heart would fall out her chest and right into Melissa's hands.

Where she would hope that it'd be put away and treasured. Never to be touched or harm by anyone other than the key holder.

Melissa's index and middle finger slide further down. Teasing the dripping hole before slowly sinking in. Lost at the sensation. "You're so perfect, hun. Everything I've ever hoped for." Melissa would whisper into the younger woman's hair, a devilish smirk toying her lips.

The words made Phoebe gasp. Her hand gripping onto Melissa's arm that wrapped around her waist. Needing to be grounded by anything.

It had been awhile since the two had a chance to appreciate each other. Between school and constant practices, the two were just tired. The most they had time for was laying in each other's arms and sleeping. But this was relieving.

"It's been so long since I got to have you like this.

My little racer. Always moving so fast, but now we're gonna go slow. Just relax with me, against me, for me." Her voice was low and raspy. Almost being drowned out by the shower.

Phoebe's heart was pounding on her chest. She was worried it might break through for real with how hard it was beating. And it didn't help when she could feel Melissa's matching with every beat.

The racer couldn't help but begin to tremble. Feeling overwhelmed in the best ways entirely. "Just like that sweetheart. I can feel how close you are. You've missed me just as I've missed you. Didn't you?"

"Yes...it's been too long Melly." Phoebe whined.

The knot that had begun to tightened was suddenly too tight. "I'm right there, please Mel."

Melissa hummed and bit on the others ear again.

Both their holds becoming firm as Phoebe fell apart. "Thats it, you're ok. Doing so well." Melissa whispered sweet nothings to her. Holding her through her entire high and even after. Loving the feeling of just having her love in her arms.

Phoebe spun to face Melissa. The warm water on her back now. Her soft gaze peaked through her lashes. "You are amazing." She geeked. Her smile touching from ear to ear. "Now...it's your turn to relax."

She sunk onto her knees, kisses being left behind.

Kisses over Melissa's neck, her pulse, her collarbones, her chest, down her stomach, and to her thighs. "My beautiful woman. How lucky I am to have you," Phoebe smiled up. The delicacy in her eyes meaning nothing but love.

She licked her lips once over before pressing kisses closer and closer. Making Melissa hum in anticipation. Her head rolling back at the feeling of Phoebe's tongue licking through her folds. A delicious moan fell to Phoebe's ears, spurring her on with each move. Her hands holding onto Melissa, grabbing at her figure and massaging the pads of her fingers against it.

Melissa adored how the hands worked against her. They were so careful when pushing and pulling. So feather light when running miles along her. "Just like that Pheebs.." Melissa panted. Her hips rocking forcefully. Her hands found home in Phoebe's hair. Pulling from the scalp and earning moans from below. "You like that? Your hair being pulled?" Melissa groaned. Pulling just slightly harder. It gave her another moan, vibrating her entire body right over the edge. She came with a call of Phoebe's name.

The two took a second to catch their breaths. Humming as Phoebe slowly licked her clean. Rising to give a quick kiss before moving to let the cold water hit Melissa's front.

Phoebe, quick to rush out and into a towel. Running to the bed with giggles filling the room. She laid on her stomach, her body still dripping of water.

"We're gonna need new sheets now," Melissa walked into the doorway. Rolling her eyes as Phoebe made point to look her up and down.

"Well then let's make the most of this mess then,"

Phoebe tease, pushing her hips back and into the air.

She pushed up to crawl to the other side of the bed. Meeting Melissa at the edge with her bottom lip between her teeth. "Don't you wanna get messy?" Phoebe reached for Melissa, pulling her onto the bed. Straddling her waist and holding onto her waist.

Melissa chuckled, her hand pushing a wet strand of hair back. "You are so full of youth and energy."

"Then let me use my youth and energy to spoil you." Phoebe pressed her lips against the thumping pulse on Melissa's neck. Soon wrapping her lips around the same spot and sucking hard. Eager to leave a hickey in the morning.

Her hand wandered down between Melissa's legs. Tracing a range of circles on the bundle of nerves. Her other hand keeping Melissa spread out on the bed.

"How did you get so good," Melissa gave an airy laugh. "Your first time you couldn't even-" her sentence ended with a loud moan. She couldn't figure out what Phoebe did, but god did it feel good.

Melissa began to arch off the bed, her hips moving with Phoebe. The movement ceasing as Phoebe's arm pushed her hips down and held them there. "It'll feel better if you stay still Melly," Phoebe whispered. Her warm breath fanning across Melissa's neck.

And it did. Melissa wanted to scream to match the feeling. It worked her right over again. Leaving her short of breath. Phoebe pulled off, a dirty smirk on her face. The bruising and bite marks were scattered all across the left side.

The brunette picked up the phone and called for new sheets and pillows. Finally throwing the pajama over to Melissa. "The food should be up in a few. I ordered light since we have breakfast in the morning."

"Since when was breakfast?" Melissa sat up, slipping on the shirt. Her bottoms close behind. "We've never done breakfast before a big race?"

Phoebe beamed, "to making new memories. We can't live the same way forever." Phoebe worked on finding her pajamas next.

"What does that mean?" Melissa began to deconstruct the bed. Folding them into a small pile aim the table. "You tryna pull something on me?"

"Oh Mel, you always assume the worst from me.

It's nice little breakfast in bed. I heard the hotel has a really nice breakfast selection." Phoebe came back over, clothed in an old racing sweatshirt. "Just us before a race."

Melissa wanted to think further into it, really she did, but once Phoebe was helping to get the bed ready for new sheets, she didn't let her thoughts wander.

"Did Stephen tell you any times?" Phoebe said, knowing the answer entirely to the question. He had texted her the schedule for the day weeks ago, forcing her to remember it on her own.

Melissa froze, trying to think about the times. "He did.." she was thinking over it. "There was a noon, a one maybe, and something else." She threw out what she could remeber.

"I have been instructed to be up at ten, ready by eleven, track opens at noon, race starts at one." Phoebe recited. Her face never loosing a smug smile.

The red head scoffed playfully and resumed helping with the bed. Finishing getting ready for bed while waiting for room service. The two holding a small conversation while they moved.

The room service coming up while Phoebe was still doing her skin routine. "Is that room service?" She called out. "There's tip money on the dresser for them!"

Melissa looked around, not seeing it anywhere.

Her second thought was look in the bags. First it was the purse, then it was the racing bag. Just as her hand grabbed the bag Phoebe jumped out.

"Mel." Her voice was demanding. It was solid and lacking that usual warmth. "The money was right here," she smiled. Taking it out to the worker and bidding them goodbye.

"Got pretty stern there for a second," Melissa picked up the sheet. "Haven't heard that voice for a good minute."

Phoebe could tell she wasn't going to let it go as easily. "I have a bomb in my bag." Was her first thought. It came out before she could think it over. It gained a laugh, "I'm sorry about that voice though. I don't know why it came up."

"It's ok hun, you're under a lot more stress. I know you don't like when anybody goes through that bag." Melissa finished putting on the sheets, moving so Phoebe could throw the pillows back to the top.

Phoebe hummed, flopping down onto the bed with a gruff. "How was your day? Work? Barb?"

Melissa sat next to her, lying on her side with her head propped up. "They found out I was a fan of NASCAR today. Janine wants to go to the next Daytona race, I said if she can hold onto liking nascar that long I'll get her and Jacob passes. Barb questioned me a bit. I think she's upset I've never mentioned it. She asked me who he was." She summed up her day.

"Well wait till she finds out that he is a she," Phoebe rolled her head to look at Mel. "How come you've never mentioned me?"

"How come you're so interested in being known?" Melissa returned the question.

Phoebe was silent for a second. "Because once I start showing up with lunches for you, it's gonna be hard to keep me quiet. And plus, my coworkers know about you, yes they've never met you, but still."

"When you finish first, we can talk about this more." Melissa leaned over to place a chaste kiss. Moving to grab the dinner for the two and the tv remote.

Phoebe's eyes fluttered open. The sun peaking and illuminating the room. Her arm reached over to look for Melissa, frowning when there was an empty space.

The brunette sat up, rubbing her eyes and trying to focus her view. Searching around the room before moving out to the kitchen. "Mel?" Her groggy voice sounded the quiet room. "Mel are you still here?"

"Kitchen hun, use your nose." Melissa answered finally.

Phoebe crawled out of bed, following the sounds and smells that Melissa made from the mini kitchen.

With soft steps, Phoebe hugged Melissa from behind. Breathing her in with a huff. "No negative energy before a race, you know this."

"It's not negative," Phoebe grumbled. Taking another second before letting Melissa work. "I was supposed to be the one in the kitchen."

"No offense, and I'm only saying this cus I've been dating you for five years, you can not cook. And I mean that out of love and worry that one day you'll undercook something and get sick." Melissa poked. Knowing she made a point because it's already happened before. "Plus, you love my cooking."

Phoebe pondered over it, agreeing and sitting on the stool on the other side of the counter. "Are you excited today?" She began to zone in on how Melissa moved with the ingredients.

"It's your big race day. It's all they've been talking about on the news. Yous making history today," she didn't look up from cutting anything. She knew you were watching and listening. "Are you nervous?"

Phoebe wanted to answer, really she did, but there were absolutely no words to describe how nervous she really was. Today was the possibly the second biggest day in her life, the first would be the wedding.

"Pheebs? You still with me?" Melissa waved her hand in front of the spaced out girls face. "You've never been this nervous before, are you all right?"

Phoebe's head nodded for her. "I'm making history today." Phoebe couldn't help the smile that ran her lips. "And you'll be right by my side."

"I wouldn't dream of being anywhere else," Melissa whole-heartedly responded. "But seriously, just breathe today. No matter what, I think you are the world's greatest racer."

The smile only grew, along with a heavy blush.

Melissa took note of it. Phoebe was easy to fluster, a simple look would do if wanted, but this reaction wasn't a sexual thing. It was so new and it made Melissa feel a new sense of true love.

"What is going on with you today?" She tried to laugh off the look but it just couldn't be shakes. "I've seen you nervous before but this is so different. You're glowing almost."

Phoebe let a soft shrug go, "I just feel so lucky to be where I am. And I can only keep thinking into the future and where it'll take me. Not to mention I have the best, most amazing, delicious, most bad ass girlfriend right in front of me." Phoebe got up to come back around the counter. Walking right into the open arms and just sighing. "I love you."

"I love you too," Melissa placed a kiss to the side of her head. Resting hers against where she kissed.

If either were to move it would ruin the moment, but thankfully neither wanted to move. They enjoyed each other's existence on such an extreme level.

"Do you want to eat before you get ready?" Melissa mumbled. Separating them just slightly. Phoebe nodded, slowly letting a mischievous grin forming. "Now what?" Melissa chuckled.

"Just that maybe I could have two breakfast?" Phoebe suggested the idea. "The first being what you made, which I'm assuming is pancakes, and then the second being you." She showed a toothy grin. A subtle pink grazing her features.

Melissa was baffled by the offer. Genuinely not expecting it. And she couldn't lie, the idea was tempting, but she knew how that could be a cause with a long line of effects. "How bout this, you win this race, and I'll let you do anything you can think of. Anything you've ever thought of. And if you loose, I'll be the one doing everything. Okay?" She spoke lowly. A sneaky smile toying with her lips.

"Deal," Phoebe quickly agreed. Sealing their deal with a kiss and moving to see the pancakes. "These look delicious Mel! Thank you!"

"Gotta start your day right hun, dig in. You have about half an hour before hell breaks in." Melissa grabbed herself a plate.

Phoebe bit the pancake whole, "hell?"

"Stephen has sent hair and makeup to get you ready. He texted me knowing you would still be asleep. So really eat now cause once Stephen gets here, you're really out of my hands." Melissa finished topping her food. "Let's eat in bed."

There wasn't much choice given as Melissa was already moving into the bedroom. Making herself comfy towards the middles of the bed. Phoebe only had the option to follow. Having the realization that today was the last day she'd be calling Melissa her girlfriend. The thought made her glow extremely.

Phoebe stood right by the car. Her heart was pounding as she put the helmet on.

"Alrighty, you've done this before. You've done it six more times before that. I'm gonna talk you through it. All of it. What I need from you, is to keep it steady. You can't freak on me." Stephen's voice crackled through the mic. "Talk to me kid."

"No freaking. It's a race I've done before. I can do this." She climbed in. Eliminating any second thoughts.

She took in the familiar car. Looking for her motivation once more, only failing to find it. "Stephen! Where's my pictures? It should be here, I can't find it. I never race without it, and what if-"

"Breathe. We decided today you needed a bigger motivation. You have a lot on you. So, Phoebe it has been an honor to race with you, but for your record breaking race you need someone else. And before I pass it over, I know I'm talking a lot, your physical motivation is in the bag under your chair. Now good luck, and go kick their ass." His voice sounded almost emotional for once.

"You so suck, ya know?" Phoebe sniffed. She had been crying a little bit too hard. Phoebe reached under, feeling the bag and pulling it up. She reached in, laughing through the tears. "What's my next surprise?"

"I am," Melissa's smile was evident in her voice. Even as she heard Phoebe groan in tears. "You ready?"

Phoebe had to lift her visor to wipe the tears. "Let's kick some ass."

After hours of laps, hours of conversations, an hour of singing like there was no tomorrow, and hours of laughs, Phoebe was coming up in her last lap. Passing the mark before the final.

"You're so close hun. I can see you. This is it. Dave is behind you, Andrew right behind him. You just have to make these few turns and then your home solid." Melissa was standing high up. Watching the blue car race around a few more corners. "Thats it angel, just a little more."

Phoebe was quiet. Suddenly feeling cold and nervous. "Mel. What do my surrounding looks like? Where's the line? How many more turns?" She quickly questioned. After doing so many laps, the track begins to blend together.

"Um, still in front of Dave and Andrew, you have two more turns and then a dash to the line. Is everything ok?" Melissa sensed the sudden shift. Examining the car quickly. "Pheebs?"

"It's fine. I'm just nervous. I have what, a minute left? Have I ever told you how much I really love you? I know I say it everyday but I want to say it for a gazillion more. Until time runs out. In this universe and every other one. I love you with everything I have Melly." Phoebe felt tears begin to fall again.

"Save your sappiness for when you can kiss me at the finish line. Front stretch hun. You're so close." Melissa had a death grip on the railing. Leaning to see Phoebe make the last turn. "I'm proud of you sweet girl. You've done so much for yourself. Last stretch, as fast as you can."

Phoebe put a bit more pressure. Watching as the number began to climb. Her heart was pounding with the growing speed. She could see it. The finish line. Dave and Andrew too far back to catch up now. She was right there. About to finish her eight Daytona race.

Five seconds off of the line the car began to fill with smoke. She reached for the ring without thinking and finished the race blind.

Melissa's voice fell on deaf ears as Phoebe began to search for the seatbelt buckle. Desperate to get out.

From the outside, Dave and Andrew stopped as fast as they could, rushing to get to Phoebe. Breaking the windows as smoke oozed out the car.

The crowd was in silence as other racers came to help. Medical standing by till the woman was retrieved. It was taking too long for comfort. Melissa couldn't stand back and watch. They were taking too long. She ran over, pushing through to see.

Regretting it as Phoebe was helped as she climbed out. Her helmet being taken off as she took deep breathes. Her body felt rigid and stiff. She sat back onto her legs looking to the sky then down to her hands.

"Thank you," she whispered when she looked back up. She stood and was still for a second. An infectious smile dawning on her as she began to cry of joy. She looked to the boys. "I just made NASCAR history...again." Her arms raised in the air, "fucking finally!" She cried out to the small crowd. Turning to the now put out car and running to jump on it. Listening to the crowd scream with excitement at their winner.

Phoebe laughed and glanced around. Finding her love easily out the crowd. That's when Phoebe jumped down and ran over to her. Grabbing her face and laughing. "I did it! I'm ok!" She wiped away the fallen tears. Pulling Melissa into her arms and just laughing. "I'm ok I promise."

Melissa held on tightly. "Had to go out with a bang huh?" She buried her face into Phoebe's neck.

Phoebe laughed again, "it's the only way to go out. If I won without any complication, did I really win? I'm ok that's what matters, we're ok!"

Melissa sniffled before leaving the embrace, standing arms length. "Congrats hun."

"I love you Mel."

"I love you too Pheebs."

Phoebe stated before smiling like a dork. "I set the records." She simply said. Turning to look at the car once more, she laughed. "I set the records!" She yelled. Earning cheers once more.

It was(almost) a perfect race.

Phoebe stood on the table, drink raised to the sky as Melissa pulled at the hem of her dress. Doing her best to keep her girlfriend reasonably covered. It wasn't that Phoebe was drunk or anything, but Melissa knew how unaware she could be of her own beauty.

"A toast! Mine of tonight! Thank you to everyone who has believed in me this year. To the boys for rushing to my aid. To Stephen, my manger since before time. To the pit team today. But mostly, thank you to Melissa." Phoebe rambled before looking down to the red head. The light making her glassy green eyes reflecting a million memories. "Thank you. For absolutely everything you have done for me."

Phoebe's glass raised at the end, everyone following with clinks of drinks together. The brunette jumped down, standing close to Melissa. "Thank you again. My motivation." Phoebe softly spoke. Her voice fading with the music and chatter, yet Melissa heard.

"Motivation? What does that mean?" She furrowed her brows, a small smirk playing at her lips.

"Every race I had a picture of you in the dash. But I think it's well lost now." Phoebe shrugged, defeat swimming in her eyes as she tried to play it cool.

Melissa laughed at the look. "Hun we can make more, what would your new motivation picture be?"

Phoebe thought for a second. Her fingers tapping against her chin. "You on our wedding day." She answered with a serious undertone. Enjoying the shocked look on Melissa's face.

"Well then get to it," she clapped back. Her eyes holding nothing but a childlike glimmer. "After all, it's been five years."

Phoebe's jaw dropped, "wow! Ok! And why was stopping you from asking?" She raised a brow, arms crossing over her chest.

Melissa winked and walked away. Her hips swaying just a bit more than usual. She knew she didn't need to answer. As she walked, she thought of the conversation. Yes Phoebe had mentioned getting married but Melissa never thought it would be to her. Yet here they were, five years deep and neither one had made a move to further their relationship. They agreed it was perfect as is. Melissa just smiled to herself as she started collecting her stuff.

"Melissa," Stephen waltzed up to the red head. Holding out his hand with a small piece of paper.

In closer inspection it was a picture of melissa. An old one from at least six summers ago. It was a date that Phoebe had planned and told Melissa to meet her by a coffee shop. She stood in a blue floral sundress, white Converses, and frilly socks. Half her hair pulled back into a blue bow with front pieces framing her face.

Meanwhile Melissa was in a long floral dress. A jean jacket over and her purse on her shoulder. Her red waves were messily, but almost perfectly, pulled up into a high ponytail.

"What is this?" She frowned looking up to the manager. Not sure how he had the picture.

"It was Phoebe's motivation but we gave her a better one. Enjoy your night with her. You make her happy beyond what she lets on." His soft lips turned up before he spun to head into the crowd.

Melissa hummed as she went back to examining the picture. Realizing she doesn't know what he meant by 'better motivation' really meant. But when her eyes found Phoebe's, they were already on her. A heavy blush on Phoebe's cheeks, yet her smile was stronger than ever.

With a single finger, Phoebe beckoned Melissa to follow her outside. Leading them off to walk along the beach as the sun began to set. Neither talking and just holding hands.

"I enjoy being with you." Phoebe hummed. Smiling to herself as the cold water washed over her feet. "You truly have changed my world for the better. I couldn't imagine a world where you said no to me begging you for a date."

Melissa snickered at the memory, "I'll give it to you. You had dedication and a schedule for asking me." She continued the reminiscing.

"Had to keep you thinking of me somehow. I wanted my chance desperately since the day I met you." The brunette confessed. "But..."

"But?" Melissa frowned. Fear suddenly running in her veins. "But what?"

"But now I ask you for another chance." The two had stopped walking at the point. Phoebe standing in face to face with Melissa.

Her green eyes watched as Phoebe lowered down on one knee. A small black bow coming into view. Tears began to fill her eyes and her breathing became irregular. She couldn't believe it.

"Melissa Ann Schemmenti, you know I adore everything about you. Your sass, your cooking, your death glares, everything. Every single thing about you I love. And I know it's five years, but I know I want to spend every morning by your side. Every night to go to sleep with you. Melly, will you marry me?" She had tears escaping from the corners of her eyes.

With a sniffle and a head bob, the ring was slid on and they shared a kiss. Listening to the cheers that happened from behind them. Many having phones to capture the moment.

"I love you so much," Phoebe gave a heartfelt laugh. Kissing Melissa passionately before raising her left hand into the air and cheering.

Monday had come around again. Big chatter in the teachers lounge about NASCAR.

"And now suddenly they're engaged! Like for five years they're a secret and now they're getting married. Crazy timing man." Jacob was going on about the engagement post made by Phoebe.

The picture being their silhouettes with the sunset, a heartfelt caption 'dedicated to my eternal happiness'. Keeping it brief and sentimental.

"Can't even guess who it is unless you compare figures. I mean you can clearly tell that this one is Phoebe and then this is her now fiancé. There's absolutely no trace." Janine stared at the post. In her head, if she stared long enough it was going to come to her.

Ava waltzed in with her signature smile. "Maybe it's a publicity stunt. Boost her name or whatever. I do it all the time."

"No, I don't think it is because there's no already existing rumors of her and anyone." Jacob debunked. Leaning to look at the picture once more. Really taking in the mystery woman.

Melissa was humming as she walked into the lounge. Her hands busy with her phone as she followed her daily routine. Making the room still at the new behavior.

That's when Janine saw it. The gold ring that made home on Melissa's ring finger.

"YOURE ENGAGED?!" She shouted. Putting the rooms focus on the ring as it shined in the light. "Since when were you even dating anyone?!"

"Since five years ago. Like I said, there's a lot you don't know about me." The red head winked and took her seat next to Barb, who looked a bit hurt at the new confession. "Let me explain why I never told you."

"Please, because I would love to know." She crossed her arms and leaned back, waiting for the reason to come out.

"Come over tonight, I know it's only Monday but I'd rather explain in private than with the goons listening." Melissa joked, her thumb points over to Janine and Jacob listening.

"So do we all get to find out after Barb or do we just get left in the dark?" Gregory piped in, geneuinly curious of this new relationship.

Melissa only shrugged and continued with her morning routine.

A few hours rolled by and Barb stood at Melissa's front door. A bottle of their favorite in hand and her purse in the other. The door opened and there was the red head. Her hair pulled up and blush on her cheeks. She opened it further for her friend.

"This better be good if they have you blushing like this." Barb walked past, making her own way to the kitchen. "Seriously Melissa. There's a whole life I don't seem to know about. So who ever this man is-"

"He's a she!" Melissa blurted out as Barbra had a view of the kitchen.

Her eyes had to be tricking her. Barbra didn't know much of NASCAR, wasn't her thing, but with the talk that Janine and Jacob had been doing, and with the news, it was very easy to tell who the person was. Phoebe Stern had a worried smile on her face as she chopped up food. "Before you ask, no I can't cook. Mel just has me chopping up the basics."

"That was not my first question," Barbra turned to Melissa. "You have two minutes, and that is me being generous, on why she's in your kitchen."

Melissa moved closer. "This is my fiancé!" She said with spirit fingers aimed at Phoebe. "For the past five years this has been a secret mostly for both of our privacy, but recently we've been more ok with being public. We wanted to introduce each other to the most important people in our lives before going full public." She was quick to explain, taking a stand next to Phoebe and taking the cut up vegetables and dumping them into the bit. "And I'm sorry I kept it a secret for so long, the only people who really knew were our families. We just didn't want it to be a spotlight topic."

Barb was silent for a long minute. Just staring between the two and trying to think of anything. She exhaled heavily, "it's nice to meet you." She held out her hand, trying to keep her smile up.

"Phoebe. Mel has told me so much about you, it's nice to know she's terrible at impersonating you." The brunette softly shook the hand. She was giving her best smile, hoping to make good first impressions with the best friend.

"And the internet has told me so much about you, dear. I guess I might as well get ready for a night of questions!" Barb joked and moved to get three wine glasses.

Melissa and Phoebe shared a look before going with it. Acting as if that was the reaction they were expecting.

And after hours of talking, Barbra Howard knew this was the one for Melissa. She liked how open Phoebe was and how willing she was to treat the two woman while they conversed. She could see the look of love in those brown eyes every time they were on the red head. Melissa was in very safe hands and Barb knew it.

The two were slightly more wine drunk than Phoebe (they had finished two bottles). "Ya know Phoebe, I really like you. And even though I was unaware of you for almost ten years, just based on tonight I can tell you really to have good intentions with Melissa." The older woman spoke. Her eyes a bit hazy from the glasses, but she stared to Phoebe. A soft, warm smile plastered in her lips. But it quickly dropped, "but so help me. You pull what Joe did and you will find out. Understood?" Her face was stern.

Phoebe felt a cold wave rush over her as the color in her face drained a bit. She knew this woman was serious. From what Mel had said? There was no doubt Barbra Howard had a mean, vicious bite. "Yes ma'am." She quietly got out. Grabbing the glasses and placing them in the kitchen.

"I should get going. Gerald is outside, but before I do. Come summer, join us on our cruise?" Barb extended the invite. "Originally it was just going to be Melissa and an adventure to find her someone but it's clear she doesn't need my help with that."

"I'd love to join, I'm sure Mel already knows the dates." Phoebe agreed, looked over to Melissa who was staring with that look in her eyes. Both their cheeks began to warm up, both for different reasons. Phoebe snapped her head back to Barbra, proceeding to play it cool. "It was lovely to finally meet you. I enjoyed the night entirely."

"It was lovely to meet you too, Phoebe. Everyone at work will have a hard time believing you Mel." The woman gave a sly smile and left with a goodnight.

Phoebe hummed her way back into the kitchen, ready to clean up the few glasses and plates. Laughing when arms wrapped around her from behind.

"You got along with Barb just fine," Melissa whispered. Hugging tighter and becoming closer each second.

Phoebe hummed with a shrug. "You've told me so much of course I did. I want your friends and co workers to like me. I have your family down but there's bound to be more than just them at the wedding."

Melissa was silent. In her arms stood her fiancé. Soon to be wife. The gorgeous, sexy, young woman in her arms wanted to be legally bound to her. She couldn't help but feel hot at the idea. To see Phoebe on the wedding day all dressed up. To get to tell people that that was her wife.

"Earth to Melly? Wedding already giving you cold feet?" Phoebe teased, still washing the dishes. "I promise I won't take complete control and give you some say."

Melissa still wasn't back from her own world. Still staring at Phoebe's hands under the water. She couldn't seem to process the fact she was getting married again. But this time there was no jitters, no cold feet, no second thoughts. Just pure adoration and love. Her entire world was right here. "Mel? Really, what's going on back there?"

"I get to love you forever," Melissa sighed. Squeezing Phoebe one good time before pull away. She leaned on the island and just admired her fiancé. Fiancé. She loved how it sounded. This is Phoebe, my fiancé she thought to herself. "You are so beautiful."

Phoebe giggled at the compliment, "not too bad yourself, Schemmenti." She dried off her hands and turned to mirror Melissa's pose. Seeing the shock look at the response making her smile a bit.

"Thats my line," Melissa sassed as she squinted her eyes. Only for them to widen as Phoebe waltzed over, getting close. Her arms trapping Melissa between the counter and herself. Melissa could feel the warmth of her breath now.

They were so close in the moment. Neither one wanting to move, a silent fight for control happening. Melissa was stubborn when it came to these stare offs. No matter how badly she wanted to give in to those sweet brown eyes. But it was different this time. The sweet brown eyes were hypnotizing her tonight. Telling her to give in for just one night. It'd be worth it if she did.

Phoebe saw the falter in Melissa's stare, knowing she won. Her head dipping close to the other's neck, slowly peppering kisses up.

"My Melly," she hummed, earning a low hum in return. Phoebe pulled back, smiling brightly at Melissa. Grabbing her hand and just pulling her towards the bedroom. Leading her in first before closing the door and coming to stand toe to toe. Her hands softly playing with the shirt. "I can't wait to marry you. To start a family. To grow together. To be together."

Melissa didn't know how to respond to this new side. It was like the title brought something out into the light. It was much more alluring than Phoebe's normal behavior. "Phoebe Schemmenti does have a nice ring to it," Melissa began to rub her hands up and down Phoebe's arms.

Phoebe hummed and leaned in for a kiss. A pleased hummed as Melissa kissed back with hunger. Pulling her by the waist to be touching. The kiss getting hotter and their breathing heavier. They stumbled backwards towards the bed. Hitting the side and falling backwards with a thump.

The kiss broke and Melissa scooted back with her arms. Entranced as Phoebe crawled up her. A devious look swirling around her eyes. "What has gotten into you?" She whispered with a smile.

"It's the title." Phoebe simply answered. Leaving kisses against Melissa's neck carefully. Only to lead her astray as she bit down of the pulse point. Soothing it with her tongue and kisses. "Something about it."

Melissa's back arched a bit when Phoebe began sucking on the point. Eager to leave a bruise but knew she couldn't. Not till summer obviously.

Phoebe let her hands wander under the shirt. Lightly trailing her hands up, bringing the shirt up with her. Wasting no second to her the fabric off and on the floor. Leaving Melissa's pink bra exposed. Phoebe loved how the color looked against her skin. It made her mouth water.

"You're staring intensely this time." Melissa poked, her finger jabbing Phoebe in the side. "If you're going to do something, get to it."

"Someone doesn't like being kept waiting." Phoebe playfully rolled her eyes. Sitting up and removing her own shirt. Surprising Melissa with an intricate lace set. Embroidered flowers scattered about the fabric.

Melissa followed the lining with her eyes, realizing it's a one piece that still goes down. "What did I do to earn this?"

"You said yes," Phoebe pressed a kiss to her lips. Slow and soft. Taking her time with how she moved against Melissa. Her hips grinding down with precision. "Can't you picture it Melly? Our future together?"

It was something about how Phoebe was speaking that was driving Melissa mad. She felt squirmish and eager to proceed. "Pheebs..."

Her kisses began to travel. "Us in this house. Twins who run around, picture it Melly. Really picture it. The family vacations, telling your family, I want my future with you more than anything." Her words were true and sweet. Making Melissa feel dizzy at the mix of emotions.

Phoebes hands worked at the gold belt buckle, smoothly pulling off and undoing the jeans. Painfully slow dragging them down her pale legs. "Wouldn't you want that?"

"More than anything, Pheebs." Melissa was struggling to catch her breath. "I need something, anything, please. Just touch me the way you do!"

Phoebe gave one last hum, "anything for you, Schemmenti."

The jeans were yanked the rest of the way off. Leaving Melissa mostly bare. She gasped as kisses were placed along her stretch marks. "Phoebe?"

"I never tell you how beautiful you are. How insane you drive me with just a look. And then you start to speak and I loose all sense of reality." Phoebe spoke so softly, scared she might be dreaming. "I'm so happy you said yes."

The sound Melissa let out was new, but Phoebe didn't stop her actions. Continuing to pull the whimpers with just simple kisses. She kissed closer and closer to where Melissa needed her the most. Her hands snaking around the plush thighs. Pulling them more apart.

Melissa couldn't help the rush of heat that ran through her at the feelings she felt at the sight. It truly was the title. It had to be the title making Phoebe act like this. Her thoughts wanted to run on analyzing everything but couldn't focus at the first swipe. It was teasing and mean. Just barely brushing over her clit.

Phoebe didn't hold back after that. Her arms kept Melissa open while her tongue worked its magic. Listening to each moan and gasp that filled the air.

"Just like that....fuck.....oh god right there!" She panted. Tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. It was enough to hold her at the edge but not enough to set her over. "More...fuck Phoebe..."

Phoebe pressed her tongue flat and harder, earning a cry of her name as she repeated the action. Slowing as Melissa came down from her high. Love pecks being placed all over her inner thighs, which then became love marks. A painting of bruises soon formed.

Melissa was still catching her breathe as Phoebe shimmied out of her pants.

"The longer you look the more confident I'm going to feel." She smirked as she spun and posed a little bit. Popping out her ass and raising her arms. Stretching out her figure for full display. "Ruin me, Melly." She giggled and just as Melissa got up to grab her, she backed up. "But you have to catch me first," and before the red head knew it, she was playing a game of cat and mouse.

Her prize being Phoebe in any way. This was a new experience. They had never done anything near this before, but it seemed so effortless for Phoebe. So effortless to let Melissa chase her through the dimly lit house.

Melissa wanted to play along, see where this was really heading. So she grabbed a big shirt and began to search. Thinking nothing of the game till she really remembered the last time they played hide and seek. How quiet Phoebe could move around and she would never know. It was an unsettling feeling at times, when she actually had the intent to scare.

As melissa asked through the quiet house, she could feel hands on her but then once she turned around, Phoebe was no where in sight. "You little witch, face me like a woman." Her voice called out into the silence. Praying that the on edge feeling wouldn't show.

A soft hand dragged itself across her back, but just as she turned around, she found no one. Sighing, she proceeded with caution. Finding her way into the study and searching through the darkness. Heading in to get any source of light from the lamp.

"Melly," a seductive hum came from the doorway. Melissa's green eyes traced the outline. Drooling a little at the sight. "Your times up."

"I didn't know I was being timed." Melissa smirked, her feet carrying her over to stand close. "You don't make it easy for me either."

Phoebe flashed that pearly smile, "where'd be the fun in letting you win?" Her hands ran under the shirt, massaging Melissa's waist. "I won though, so it means I get to do whatever."

"Thats not fair, you only gave me like a minute." Melissa huffed with a frown. Freezing as Phoebe circled her and hugged her body tightly. Her lips hovering against her neck.

"Let me adore you Melly. You work so hard and do so much for me, let me just try and compare and give you this. Let me love you." Phoebe had the slightest whine in her voice. Desperate to please after so long.

Melissa couldn't help but feel weak in the moment. She couldn't say no if she wanted to. Phoebe had her wrapped around her pretty little finger. The way she was willing to do anything Phoebe would ask. From a simple kiss to murder.

"Fine," Melissa exhaled. Her tone seeming as if she was going to fight against it, but in the end, both knew she wouldn't.

A soft thank you was whispered before Phoebe found the pulse point again. This time loosing all control and leaving a hickey, dragging it all down the side of her neck.

Melissa loved the feeling. How Phoebes lips so easily worked against her skin. How effortless she had to try since she knew every inch of Melissa. "Pheebs...stop teasing me," she lowly warned. Her hands fidgeting just slightly at her side.

"Did you know, ever since I moved in and saw your office I couldn't stop thinking of how'd you'd look on top of it. Legs spread wide open while your head falls back. So Melly, as my prize, I want you on that desk." Her hands pushed her slightly towards the wood furniture. A glint of joy swirling in her eyes. It danced with lust and love as the two took steps in sync backwards.

Melissa lifted her self up onto the desk. Legs spreading as Phoebe came to stand in front of her. The two shared another passionate kiss. They moved slowly, knowing they were in no rush at all. But when Phoebe's hands are in the mix, Melissa needed more than just a kiss.

Phoebe could sense what she was doing, and she was too lost in the moment to keep teasing. She lowered down, leaving kisses behinds where she could.

Her eyes stared up at Melissa, finding the green ones and holding them. Her tongue giving a slow, sensual lick. She watched as the action caused the older woman's jaw to slack. Phoebe repeated the action, picking up her pace each swipe.

"You and that...that fucking tongue," Melissa grabbed a fistful of brown hair. "Fuck Phoebe, just like that!" She got out through a clenched jaw.

Melissa came with a violent jolt and a loud moan. Her thighs going to close, put were restricted. It took a second for her to process what was happening, and once she did her arms gave out. Putting her on her back as Phoebe didn't let up and kept eating her out.

"I haven't had a taste of you in too long. The amount of built up desire for you Melly, it's enough to kill a man." Phoebe's voice was low and tingly.

The room filled with strands of moans and curses as Phoebe brought Melissa over the edge multiple times more.

The three taps to her head being a signal that it was too much now. And while Melissa laid back, Phoebe ran to grab a cold towel and water. Along with an orange.

And after the cleaning up, the two sat on the floor in the living room. Leaning against each other and being content with the soft tv chatter.

The two just thinking of everything that just happened. Turning to look at each other in union, they smiled and laughed. It lasted a few seconds before Phoebe stared with a grin, "my fiancé." It was a whisper so quiet that it nearly got stolen by the wind.

#melissa schemmenti #oc #nascar #fanfic #original character #barbra howard #abbot elementary #gregory eddie #race #wlw smut #melissa Schemmenti smut #fluffy #lisa ann walter

66 notes · View notes