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promiscuouscutie · 9 months

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All Yours pt. 1

Ethan Landry x fem. Reader, reader is a little naive and Ethan’s obsessed, eventual smut

Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6 , Part 7

Word count: 1979

Warnings for this part: uhhh drinking under 21, murder, mentions of vomit

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

You look at yourself in the mirror in disgust. You were dripping in beer liquid, courtesy to a sorority blonde devil named Michelle. Ironically, Michelle was dressed as an angel. It was meant to represent her ‘angelic personality.’ At least that’s what she put on her instagram caption for her costume reveal post. She hated you, but you never knew why. Did she have an actual reason, or did she just want to put others down? You just wanted her to stop talking to you. You wanted her to stop trying to spread rumors about you, when she didn’t even know what she was talking about. You wanted her to stop sending you threats on social media. She never bothered making anonymous accounts. She didn’t care if you knew it was her. She thought she walked on water, that she could do no wrong.

“Angelic personality. What a joke,” You said to yourself. You dig through your purse and pull out tissues, trying to wipe some of liquid off of your skin. You sniffed your dress and gagged; you stunk of cheap beer.

Ding! You pull out your phone and read the contact name: Cason. You pressed on the notification and read the message:

I’m here, at the party. Can we talk, bunny? I really owe you an explanation.

You chewed the inside of your cheek. Bunny, his nickname for you. The way he said it would make you smile, but not this time. The pet name barely made you react. Some part of you felt happy to get a text from him. He hadn’t texted you in weeks. He hadn’t spoken to you in person. Every time you tried to talk to him, he’d walk the other way.

Most of all, you felt awful. He used to flirt with you, just simple teasing and compliments during your tutor sessions. You didn’t realize his intentions right away. You just thought he was being kind. When he gave you the nickname, you thought it was a sign you were becoming close friends. You were wrong. During one of your tutoring sessions, he kissed you. You were so shocked, but you didn’t kiss him back.

He had a girlfriend. He still does, the girl you hate more than anyone. Michelle, the devil’s wife herself. You pushed him away and ended the tutoring session early.

Despite your hatred for Michelle, you didn’t want to break up a relationship. But why would he make a move? You didn’t understand that part, but maybe he’d explain himself. Maybe he could explain why Michelle spread the rumor that you made the move on him, knowing that he had a girlfriend. The rumor made traction around campus, making you lose some customers for your job. People saw you as a home wrecker, a horrible girl.

You sniffled. God, don’t start crying. It’s going to be okay. Just hear him out. You took a deep breath and reply to his message:

Should we find somewhere private to talk? Maybe you could take me on a walk or something? -you

He read it immediately.

Let’s talk in an hour. Michelle’s slobbering all over me rn. -Cason

This was fine. You were going to be fine. He’d explain himself, clear everything up. He could apologize for the kiss and even try to debunk the rumor his girlfriend started. But why didn’t he in the first place? A good question, one you couldn’t answer yourself. Only Cason could, and he would. You were positive he had a good reason for it. You just couldn’t figure out what it could be.

You still smelled like beer. But who doesn’t at this party? There’s a mix of alcohol and weed in the air that’s traveled to the first and second floor of this frat house. You adjusted your sparkly, lavender wings to make them less crooked. The purple glitter on your eyes still stayed perfect, which you were relieved about.

It took forever to put it on. Your roommate Anika had to assist you with it, but she didn’t complain. She was obsessed with your costume. She thought you made the perfect fairy! Your dress was a royal purple and made of silk. It had lace on the chest, giving it a lingerie look. You had a flower crown on earlier, but it found itself on Mindy’s head halfway through the party. You didn’t mind of course; Mindy looks great with it on.

There was a knock at the door. “Yo hurry up in there!”

“Coming!” You shouted. You grabbed your purse and threw away your garbage quickly before the stranger let out another complaint. You opened the door and rushed past the random guy. You looked around the room, trying to find a familiar face in the crowd. You spot a shirtless cowboy: Chad Meeks-Martin, the frat boy and self-acclaimed feminist. He spots you from a distance and waves. “Y/N! Come have a drink!” He called out. You walk over to him and catch the beers can he throws at you. As you opened it, you spot a familiar face.

“Hey Ethan! I didn’t know you were coming,” you smiled sweetly. He smiled back at you, right before glancing at the floor awkwardly.

“It was a last minute decision,” Chad explains. He puts his arm around Ethan, pulling him close. “I managed to convince him to come hang out,” Chad added with a joking tone. Ethan rolled his eyes at his friend’s words.

“You make me sound like a hermit,” Ethan comments.

“That’s cause you are, my boy. You’re a hermit crab.”

“Don’t tease the guy! He’s just trying to have a good time,” you lightly pushed Chad’s shoulder. You took a big sip from your beer and looked around the room again. Ethan’s eyes moved down your body, fully focusing on your costume. He took notice to the fishnet stockings on your legs. He liked them. He liked them a lot. Your eyes landed on Ethan’s face, making him avoid eye contact. You caught him staring at you. You thought it was a little cute, but probably just a coincidence. After all, how could sweet, quiet, adorable Ethan look at you like that?

You felt a a shoulder hit yours hard. You watch Michelle walk past you, snickering to her friends. She had two drinks in hand, and her angel wings were practically almost falling off her body. You winced as your rubbed your shoulder as Ethan and Chad watched the blonde walk up the stairs.

“What a bitch,” Chad says bluntly.

“Yeah. Major bitch,” Ethan agrees. You were a little surprised by Ethan. You never heard him say something like that before, and his face! He was practically glaring at her as she disappeared. If looks could kill, Michelle would be dead by now. You awkwardly laugh it off, trying to move on. You reach into your purse and pull out your phone.

I ran into Michelle. I take it she’s done slobbering all over you? -you

He didn’t answer right away. It took him maybe five or six minutes to reply:

She didn’t give you any problems, did she?-Cason

Nothing too horrible. Can we talk now?-you

You watched the thinking bubble appear quickly, making you smile.

Give me a few more minutes, bunny. I’ll come find you when I’m done, okay?-Cason

You sighed in disappointment. You felt guilty for being impatient. He’s trying to have fun, just like you! You shove your phone back into your pocket and brushed your dress down.

“Let’s just keep the drinks coming, huh Chad?” You shake your beer can. Chad points at your face, grinning. “I like the way you’re thinking tonight, Y/N.” You both laugh as you chug your drinks, Ethan drinking his silently.

He watched you take drink after drink. After two more beer cans, you were cut off. Chad banned you from the fridges and coolers, but you managed to find one laying around. You just wanted to make your brain become sludge tonight. You wanted to forget your problems for just a few more hours. Fortunately for you, it was working. You found yourself wandering up the stairs, trying not step in vomit. You gag at the sight, trying to hold back any possible bile from your throat. When you made it to the top, you said “yes!” under your breath. That was your greatest accomplishment for the night.

You walk past rooms, trying to find an empty room to lock yourself in and close your eyes. You thought you found one, not seeing anyone on the bed. The music was so loud. The song Heartbeat by Childish Gambino started to play, and you dramatically sighed. “I love this song!” You grin. You shut the door behind you and throw yourself on the bed. How many hours had it been since you showed up to the party? Two? Three? Four? One? You couldn’t quite focus with the music playing in the background. You could practically feel the music’s beat inside your chest, matching your own heartbeat. You heard thumps near you, thinking it was just from the music. But you were wrong. You look to your left, seeing a tall, cloaked figure. You recognized the look immediately.

“Really? Another Ghostface? I’ve seen like two of you at this party already!” You sit up and stare up at the masked stranger. They tilt their head, staring at you. You notice the red knife in their hand and try to grab it. They move it away from you immediately, making you whine.

“Let me see it! Can’t I hold it? Just once?” You bat your eyelashes at them. To your surprise, it worked. They wiped the red liquid on their sleeve and handed the knife to you.

They still hadn’t said a single word to you. They just watched you grip the handle, swinging it around like it was a toy. You thought it was, at least. You tried to stand up, but you wobbled. The Ghostface grabbed your arms and helped you stand up straight. You looked up at the masked stranger and smiled. “Thank you, sweet thing!” Your feet feel stuck to the wooden floor, as if they were superglued down. Their grip on your arms felt stronger than before. “Can you..can you let me go please? I need to pee,” You squeak out. One of their hands lifts up and cups your face. The leather glove felt strange against your skin. You felt a fluttery feeling inside your stomach. It was a new feeling. They tuck some of your hair behind your ear, revealing one of your collarbones that hid underneath.

“Use the one downstairs. The one up here is broken,” the Ghostface spoke with a strange voice. Did they have a voice modulator? That’s pretty cool. You nodded along, as if stuck in a trance. They loosened their grip on you, finally letting you go. You reach for your purse on the bed, bending over. You felt the cold air on your upper thighs and ass as your short dress lifted up. You didn’t even think about how you could’ve been flashing this stranger. You didn’t actually think you were, but you were. They stared at the exposed skin they could see until you stood up straight again.

You turned back around to face the Ghostface. “Don’t be a lady killer, Mr. Ghostface.” You blew a kiss at them and walked out of the room, trying not to wobble or stumble again.

If you had gone into the upstairs bathroom, you would’ve found a very dead Michelle laying in the tub with her throat slit. But you didn’t. You believed the Ghostface, naively and foolishly.

Who knew how much of a problem this would be in the future?

Not you, but Ghostface would. Ethan would.

#ethan landry #scream vi #ethan landry x reader #female reader #18+ content #eventual smut #young and naive #ethan landry imagine #obsessive love #tw murder #mask kink #ghostface #corruption kink #manipulation #ethan landry smut

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dilatorywriting · 8 months

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Hi hi! So this is a request for the 4k followers thing and if it sounds like word vomit I apologize cuz I have no idea how to word this. Could I ask for prompt 10 ("I think we should go to dinner first.") with mc x azul? The scenario here is like that one twitter post that was going around awhile ago about how a falls first but b falls harder, with a being azul and how once he realizes his feelings he resigns himself to forever pining from afar bc he's convinced himself that any relationship between them would be doomed to failure since mc is from another world and would have to go home someday. But while mc is a bit dense when it comes to their own romantic feelings they've always been an upfront person and as soon as they realize they like him they kinda just,,,, barge into his office and say so, and I feel like the sentence prompt would be said by azul after a pretty intense make out session (maybe nothing spicy spicy but yeah) where at the end oh yeah he remembers he's a gentleman

Also after a bit of searching I found the twitter post I was talking about

Gender Neutral Reader x Azul Ashengrotto Word Count: 1.5k

Prompt 10: "I-I think we should go for dinner first."

[EVENT MASTERLIST]

Azul had been avoiding you.

Which was so strange and wholly out of character that the first few days of it went by in a weird sort of fugue. You hadn’t even noticed an entire week had passed in blissful, mafioso-free silence until you were heading to your Friday night shift at the Lounge and realized you hadn’t seen your favorite octopus even once. Normally the House Warden was fluttering around you like a scam artist to an old folks’ home. Poking, and prodding, and ‘ah, Prefect, I know you weren’t a fan of the last contract, but perhaps this one would suffice, hmm?’

And when you arrived in the little, employee-only locker room—still fully unbothered and not offered even a single opportunity to sell your soul—you wondered if maybe he’d gotten sick.

You were in the middle of taking some Savanaclaw student’s order when you finally saw him at all. Just a quick glance out of the corner of your eye to catch his shining, silver head of hair popping into his office. You smiled brightly and offered a wave. But Azul only went stiff and closed the door with a bang.

Which was…

Huh.

“Is Azul feeling okay?” you asked Jade between running an armload of drinks to a table of Pomefiore students.

The eel hummed and gave you one of those smiles that never really looked like it was meant to be a smile. “Our fearless leader is clinically sound.”

You frowned. Because that felt like one of the Vice Warden’s non-answers that he’d throw your way sometimes like a taller, meaner older sibling holding your favorite toy just out of reach.

“So he’s alright?” you pressed, hesitant.

“Oh, I never said that,” he chirped pleasantly, before ducking off to go catch the stack of plates that Floyd was in the process of juggling through the kitchen.

The bubbling panic popping in your gut was the worst sort of tummy ache. The kind that spread its miserable pain until it’d left your chest hurting, and head spinning, and something deeply wrong throbbing at the heart of you. Because Azul, despite his inherent tendencies to treat you like a particularly stupid pack mule, was still your best friend. The person you cared about most in all the world! Sure, he enjoyed bamboozling you and your fellow students, but, like he hadn’t done anything genuinely malicious in ages now! Like a paid hitman retiring into selling seedy vacation timeshares.

The idea of him just—just not wanting you anymore struck something horrible in you. Of finally realizing that the silly little human from worlds unknown wasn’t worth the wobbly pair of legs you were standing on. And it left you feeling small, and afraid, and—and—

“Oh? Are you feeling unwell, Prefect?” Jade called from somewhere behind you.

“Does Azul hate me?” you blurted out before you could help yourself.

The eel blinked his bi-colored eyes at you—slow and unbothered. Perhaps a bit surprised, if you had to put a name to the expression. Jade’s face was like that sometimes. An enigma. Like someone had wired him up just slightly wrong when putting it all together. On any other living creature, that sap-slow nonchalance would have certainly bordered on outright boredom, but you knew him well enough to know there was at least something else going on there.

“Why would he hate you?” he asked, equally dripping and slug slow.

“Because—!” you squawked, and waved your hands around your head. “Because!”

“I see,” he nodded. And then latched a gloved hand onto your shoulder and steered you back towards his boss’s office. He didn’t even bother to knock before wrenching the door open and shoving you inside.

Azul looked up with a start, eyes gone wide behind his glasses and jaw slack.

“What’s going—”

“The Prefect is on the verge of psychotic break,” Jade chirped helpfully, with a closed-eyed smile. “Please be delicate with them, hmm?”

And then slammed the door shut all over again. Leaving you alone with the guy who might have only very recently started to hate your guts. Or—or maybe he always had! And maybe you’d just been really, really dumb about picking it up! You wanted to scream. Or hide away forever. Azul looked like the latter was an exceptionally tempting idea, and you could see his blue eyes flicker around the room like he was looking for an escape route.

But the idea of him running away from you, that you’d never see him again—that he didn’t want to ever see you again—had something horribly enlightening clicking into place in your brain.

“Are you okay!” you asked, so loud it nearly rattled the furniture. And Azul flinched in surprise. “Did I do something wrong!”

“What?” he blinked, startled. “Of… Of course not.” He cleared his throat and stood carefully, making his way towards you in the manner one may approach a rabid racoon hiding under their porch. “Perhaps you should take a seat—”

“I can’t!” you cried, frantic. “Not if you’re upset!”

Another of those owlish, outright consternated bouts of blinking. “You can’t sit?”

“No!” you wailed. That prickling, hot, tight feeling nearly overflowing out of you. “Not if it’s my fault!”

His expression twisted up into something mulish and embarrassed, and he reached up to push his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a soft huff.

“…it’s hardly your fault,” he said, sounding so stupidly sad that you just wanted to—to—

“How can I fix it?” you tried, panicked. Because he didn’t want to be around you anymore, and you couldn’t lose him. You couldn’t!

Azul sighed, gaze shifting away yet again. He offered you a tight, little smile that felt like all sorts of lies. “It’s alright, Prefect. Truly. It’s just something…” he trailed off, that forced smirk twitching off his lips like he couldn’t help it. “Something I’m learning to live with, hmm? Nothing terrible, I promise.”

“You shouldn’t have to live with something that’s bothering you,” you argued, firm. “You’re the king of fixing other people’s problems. You’re more than allowed to use all those connections and stuff to fix your own!”

“I’m afraid it doesn’t really work like that,” he tried, awkward, and you steamrolled on.

“Why not?! You’re amazing! And fantastic! And I love you so much, and you should never have to be upset about anything. And if you’re not in my life for the rest of my life, I’d rather die!” you wailed, and gasped—clapping your hands together like the idea that had just blossomed in your skull was just beyond brilliant. “We should get married!” And then, to sweeten the deal, “Think of the tax benefits!”

“I—” Azul choked, going as red as a tomato. “Y-You—”

“—love you very much!” you finished helpfully.

He ducked his face into his hands, like he could scrub the blush right off his cheeks if he tried hard enough.

“Y-You can’t—” he spluttered into his gloves. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” you demanded. “It’s true!”

Azul’s shoulders hunched up like he was trying make himself very, very small. And then after a long moment of near hyperventilating into his palms, he finally looked back over at you from behind the shield of his fingers.

“You…” he swallowed. “You love me?”

You nodded, certain. Becauese what else could that warm, bright, all-consuming thing be in your chest be but that?

“You,” he said again. “Love me?”

“Yes,” you agreed, never more sure of anything than that. “And we should get married.”

Azul choked again and went back to hiding behind his fingers.

“Unless…” you started, trailing off as something horrible and unsure squirmed through your chest. “Unless you don’t want to, of course. It should be your choice too. Just because I love you, doesn’t mean you have to love me, y’know?”

“That’s not what I said!” he squawked, head snapping back up so fast he nearly knocked the glasses off his face. And then he went red all over again, all the way to the tips of his ears, and he was reaching up to pull the rim of his hat down over his eyes with a curse. “I just…” he began, muffled behind the fabric of his overcoat. “Maybe… dinner first?” he choked. “Before the proposal.”

“Oh,” you blinked, startled. “Of course. That makes sense.”

“That makes sense,” Azul echoed, sounding like you’d come up from behind him and walloped him with a baseball bat rather than just suggested a completely rational and beneficial mutual engagement. “I… I don’t know why I’m surprised at all.”

You quirked a brow. “Were you… expecting me to say that?” you asked confused.

This time he did look back up at you fully. Hands lowered, and the shield of his collar gone and all. The smile he sent you was small but so, heartachingly warm that it had butterflies dancing in your stomach.

“No,” he hummed, sounding impossibly pleased. “I really, really wasn’t.”

#4k Event #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #Azul Ashengrotto x Reader #Azul x Reader #Azul Ashengrotto #My Writing #Writing Prompts

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autumnmobile12 · 1 month

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This scene...the League is missing a couple people in their headcount, so I have to ask...where were Dabi and Spinner when this all went down?

I mean, I gather Horikoshi left Dabi out for plot purposes; with a long-range Quirk, he probably would've just blasted a jet of flames at Overhaul's group as soon as things started going hostile. Little bit op in this context. And Spinner could be missing because it wasn't 'necessary' to have him here and he might've been one of the casualties if he was. Magne gets taken out and Mr. Compress loses an arm; yeah, no way is Spinner taking that sitting down.

But there's still no explanation of where they went. Their whole thing is right here. It's not like they're leading double lives and have somewhere else to be right now. Even when the group meets up later, nobody addresses what they were doing at the meeting time.

Did they decide Twice was taking too long and stepped out for coffee?

Are they keeping watch outside? Why didn't they come running when they heard the chaos?

Did Dabi start vomiting blood because of the Lovecraftian horror show that's his apparent health issues, and Spinner drew the short straw in making sure he didn't up and die on them?

Were they just waiting at a drive-thru when they got a text from Toga that read, “Hey, the meeting went south, Magne’s dead, and Atsuhiro’s missing an arm. Meet us at…”

Seriously, I want to see how these two reacted to that. “What the hell, guys, we were gone for ten minutes!”

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peachesofteal · 1 year

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Dead Disco / Chapter 1

I looked away from my other WIPs for only a second and vomited this up. Thanks.

Simon Riley/John MacTavish/female reader 1.4k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: 18+ Minors DNI, M/M/F, angst, explicit sex, DP, everyone is bad at feelings (or are they), men are gross and touch you without consent, protectiveness, bar fights, mentions of injury and violence, polyamory, probably could be considered toxic. You should have gotten out.

It was always them, and then you. You, on the outside looking in. Them, on the inside looking at each other. It felt like you lived somewhere different, a place that you weren’t even sure existed. You were a body in the middle of a big bed, empty for weeks and months at a time during assignments, phone silent, dinner table set for one.

It had been your mistake, of course. Because how could it not? They existed, before you, and they would still exist after you, this you were sure of. And of course, you should have known that it would be a problem. That this snarling, festering, rot of feelings would take shape into something that was bad for all three of you. Still, you tried to scratch and claw it away because you didn’t want to accept the truth.

You should have gotten out, long before it had changed from middle of the night entanglements to phone calls and text messages, dinner plans and grocery shopping, mild pillow talk about the future.

You should have gotten out the morning you made pancakes for breakfast, when you and Johnny sat in the window and tried to keep your voices from waking Simon. You had been on your third cup of coffee by the time you noticed his shadow, standing in the dark of the hall, the small smile tugging at his lips just barely illuminated by the kitchen light.

“Did we wake you?” They only just got in yesterday, their sleep schedules still askew and their eyes still heavy. Your fingers tapped anxiously against the mug as he sat between the two of you, large hand pulling the hot liquid from your grip.

“No, love.” He sipped your coffee, face twisting into regret before setting it aside and pulling you by your ankle towards him. “But no more coffee. Makes you all jittery, yeah?” Johnny chuckled, folding Simon into his arms easily, and rested his face across the dirty blonde mop of hair under his chin. His eyes said something to you that you couldn’t understand.

You should have gotten out the first time they called you Darling. When Johnny had his face in between your legs, lazily lapping at your cunt and Simon fucked him open.

“Darling.” He hissed, the vowels long on his tongue, fingers intertwined with yours. The cramp of muscles in your lower belly tensing with each stroke of his tongue, your body moving in time with his, his moving in time with Simon’s. The dip of his spine arching like a bridge between the three of you, connecting you, pulling you into the water with them, deeper and deeper until you couldn’t swim anymore, until you had no choice but to rely on them to keep you afloat.

You should have gotten out the night you and Johnny went to the bar. The night you wore that dress, dark but dotted with little flowers, small ties looped in a knot across your chest. It swung at your hips, easy in the breeze, the hot summer wind snaking across the skin of your legs, cooling the sweat that collected on the back of your neck. Johnny liked it, he had told you once, and you never forgot. It was nice, and felt good, and hid the raw edges of your open nerves. You had felt like a predator. You looked like prey.

The pool stick was slick in your hand, the buzz of the vodka in your system cocooning you in fuzzy softness, your body lax against Johnny’s so he could position you correctly.

“Now, hit it here…”

“Like this?”

“Aye, that’s it.” You struck the ball with the cue, knocking another into a pocket, Johnny’s thrilled whoop lighting you up with heat and butterflies. “Well done love.” He pressed the palm of his hand against your back, teasing his lips across your cheek.

“Give me a real one.” You whispered next to his ear, and he obliged you easily, the two of you pliant and undemanding against one another.

“Go for another round?” he shook his empty beer bottle with the question.

“Sure.” You placed yourself on a stool while you waited, but the line at the bar was too long, and it wasn’t a minute before there were two others, standing at your side, asking you questions and tracing their foul fingers across your exposed knee.

“I’m with someone.”

“Who, don’t see nobody.” Johnny’s back was to you, head bobbing as he spoke with the bartender.

“He’s over there.” You pointed, but it didn’t matter. The finger moved higher. Your own curled into a fist and slammed into skin and bone. A jaw, maybe. Or a nose. You weren’t sure. But your shout was loud enough, and you could see the turn of Johnny’s body, felt the relief of knowing he saw you. Your victim yelled, and in a second later and a flurry of appendages, Johnny smashed a bottle over his head.

When the two of you got home, Simon was irate. But it wasn’t the kind of red vision rage that you had heard whispers of, but something darker, something more distraught. His eyes were tight when he pressed an ice pack to your knuckles, visible discomfort shifting into sympathy when you hissed in pain.

“Poor darling.” He murmured, lips on your forehead. He was silent for the rest of the night, fingers constantly feeling for you, for Johnny, until the three of you fell into bed together, your back pressed to his chest, Johnny’s arms around you both.

You should have gotten out the first time Simon said the words our girl, the first time you took them both, with your chest pressed to his, his cock sunk to the hilt in your cunt and his fingers spreading your ass open, the cool kiss of lube making you shudder.

You drew a breath, and the bed sunk beneath the weight of Johnny’s knees when he positioned himself behind you.

“Take it easy.” Simon murmured, hand reaching somewhere you couldn't see, little grunts falling from Johnny's lips until you felt him pressing the head of his cock to your ass, and pushing inside. It was so much, the pressure making your head spin, the feeling of taking them both forcing gasps of air from your lungs, your face cradled between two giant palms, thumbs stroking your cheeks.

“Jus’ relax. That’s our girl.” Simon soothed, eyes flicking up to Johnny’s face, heavy conversation transpiring without words, just over your head.

“F-fuck.” You hissed, the burn and stretch and sting crushing together until you were babbling nonsense, while Johnny fucked you deep and Simon lazily jerked his hips up into you, over and over. When you fell into your orgasm, you dragged them down with you, and your bodies were limp against one another for hours afterwards.

You should have gotten out, the day you fell asleep on the couch with Simon, curled against his body like you fit there, hand stroking patterns into his forearm. You slept for hours, and when you woke up, the sun had set, apartment dark and quiet.

“What time is it?” you blinked blearily and sat up, groping into the dim light for your phone.

“Just past seven.” He’s still in the same position from three hours ago.

“Oh my god. Why didn’t you wake me? We’re going to miss the-“ he pulled you back into his chest without a word, thumb pressing to your bottom lip to silence you.

“Didn’t want to. Rather just lay here with you.” Something broke after that, some part of the protection you had built inside yourself crumbled, and you rolled into him, content to be there until Johnny got home and forced the two of you up for pad thai, his lips ghosting along yours and then Simon’s until you were both fully awake.

You should have got out, but you didn’t. You held onto the hot pan too long, let it sear your skin, let it mark you deep and leave a nasty scar. You let yourself sleep in the big empty bed, worry gnawing you alive on the inside, phone silent as you waited for the ‘touched down’ texts or calls, too eager, too invested. You let yourself think, believe, want, something that wasn’t real. It was always them, and then you, after all.

So, this is how you found yourself with two bags by the front door, key sitting alone on the kitchen island, a four-sentence email sitting in your drafts. Waiting to be sent.

Hey,

I’m sorry. I left. The key is on the island. I locked the front door.

-Darling.

#peaches writes #ghost x soap x reader #female reader #john mactavish x reader #simon riley x john mactavish #cod mw22 fanfiction #cod fanfic #simon Riley x John mactavish x reader #simon Riley x reader #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #simon riley #john mactavish #cod mwii #ghost x soap #cod mw2 #soapghost #soap x ghost x reader #dead disco

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imaginesforeons · 5 months

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Can we get some more stuff with your yandere! nanami? it could be anything like even your headcanons about how he treats his darling ! I really like the way you write him!

Yes!! Any excuse to write my man. I hope this is ok, and if you want more, feel free to ask.

Not Your Room (Yandere!Nanami x Reader)

~You wake up somewhere completely foreign to you~

CW: Past kidnapping. Yandere Nanami. Vomiting but that's because reader is dizzy.

Word Count: 1,178

Reqs are OPEN! At the top of my page you can see what fandoms I write for, so DM me with your ideas!

Buy me a coffee?

.-.-.

You woke up in a bed that was not your own.

The first thing you’re aware of is a weight across your legs, then a warmth around your body, and, finally, the plush sensation of sheets and pillows cradling you. It was almost enough to drag you back down to the impossibly deep sleep you fought your way out of. Almost, but not quite, because this was not your bed.

You took a moment to breathe, bracing yourself before opening your eyes, only to wish you’d kept them shut.

You weren’t in your bed, and you were definitely not in your room. All of it was completely foreign, so unlike your own home that you might as well have stepped into a separate country for how unfamiliar everything was. The room was dimmed with only one lamp on, but you could see off-white walls and beige curtains, no colorful accents but for the single blue throw draped over a chair in a corner. It was like the owner had never dared impress any of their own personality into the room, and you had woken up in an interior design catologue.

Could you be hospitalized? If you were, wherever they had put you was surely thousands of dollars out of your budget. It was bland, yes, but just from a single glance you could tell that everything was top quality.

You forced your body to sit up with a grunt, limbs oddly heavy, casting your eyes around the room, searching for your things, only to pause. Beside a door was a pair of shoes; a pair of men’s shoes. If you were in a hospital, it would make no sense for a man to leave his shoes in your room, not if they were a doctor or visitor. You swallowed, and this time looked around the room with new eyes. Other than the shoes, you saw a bedside table with a book resting on the top, a suitcase set on the chair that held the blue afgan, and opposite from you bed was a door cracked open just enough for you to see a bathroom rug.

You weren’t in a hospital, you were in someone’s house. You stiffened, and you found yourself fisting your hands into the white sheets beneath you.

Your panic was cut off when you heard the creak of a doorknob turning. Jerking, you slid from the bed to stand and hide from whoever was coming, but instead you nearly crumpled to the ground. A sudden dizziness overtook you, black speckled at the corners of your vision, and a rushing pounded through your ears, deafening and clouding everything around you.

“-sy. Take deep breaths.” A voice, also male, broke through to you, and you felt calloused hands guide you back to the bed.

“Where-” You paused, rubbing your temples, a headache building up in your skull. “Where am I?”

You glanced up and gasped. Brown eyes behind wire glasses, blond hair professionally slicked back, a sharp face; you knew this man. Every Thursday, you’d go to a bakery a block from your house, treating yourself to something sweet. Exactly at eight in the morning, the man in front of you would walk in, buy the same thing every time, then leave. Never had the two of you shared words, or smiles, or anything more than a quick glance. What was he doing here?

“Stay calm,” your bakery aquiantance said as he guided your head back to the pillows. “You’ve been through a trauma.”

“A trauma?” you muttered. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t give you all the details yet. For now, just focus on relaxing.”

You found yourself lying back in bed, staring at the ceiling, mind trying to process what was being said yet falling oddly flat.

Suddenly, your vision was obscured as he reached for your face, and you didn't have any time to flinch back before his hands grabbed your head. Big was the only word that came to mind, before fingers were gently massaging at your scalp.

That felt nice. Your eyes started to droop, and you felt yourself sinking into that strange fog you had just struggled from. You were nearly asleep, gentle, strong fingers massaging your neck, when a thread of anxiety worked its way through you.

“My parents!” you exclaimed, sitting back up again. “I have to call them! Where’s my phone?”

The blond man sat back, dropping his hands from your face. “I’m afraid you can’t do that.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, then winced. Your head was hurting again.

“I mean you can’t have your cellphone or any other electronics without my supervision.” He put his hand on your sternum, urging you back, but you pushed him away.

You thrashed, throwing off your blankets. “What the fack does that mean?” you snapped, swinging your feet over the bed. “Where’s my phone? Where’s the rest of my shit?”

“Easy,” he soothed. “Too much movement might make you dizzy. I’m not sure how you’ll react with the drugs.”

You felt an icy cold work its way down your back.

“You drugged me?” you hissed. Now that he’d admitted to it, you did feel heavy, dizzy in a way that not even alcohol could accomplish. Even the anger you felt towards the man for what he didn’t was only there for a moment before guttering out, like a weak flame fed with damp wood.

“With propofol, yes. It’s a common anesthetic used in hospitals and other healthcare settings.”

You had to get out of here. You had to run. Stomach churning, you rolled to the opposite end of the bed, away from him, falling to the ground with a thump. You whimpered, clutching at your head. It felt like you were drowning in cotton.

Arms wrapped around you, lifting you into their hold effortlessly. A horrible vertigo washed over you, and you gripped the man’s shirt collar in front of you to at least try to stay in control.

“‘m gonna puke,” you mumbled. And then you did. All over the plush carpet.

You could feel a sigh travel through the man’s body as he stepped carefully over your mess, carrying you towards the bathroom.

“If you felt sick you should have told me earlier,” he said. It made you feel like you were being scolded.

“If you hadn’t drugged me I wouldn’t be sick,” you snapped, before being set on a toilet seat. “I have bad reactions to propofol. It makes me nauseated.”

It was hard to be angry at him. It was hard to be anything; it felt like you had an empty hole in your chest, swallowing up every emotion you tried to muster. It was the propofol, surely. A garbage can was settled between your feet before a cool hand, strong and steady, massaged the delicate nape of your neck.

You stared into the empty can, and tried to cherish the feeling. As soon as the drugs wore off and you got your lucidity back, things would be infinitely worse. Soon, everything would be real.

#jjk imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #yandere #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere nanami #nanami x y/n #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #kento nanami #yandere nanami x reader

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rhiannswork · 9 months

Note

Omg Miguel ohara x drunk reader would be amazing thxxx

m. o’hara || “bar.” read 21:56

a/n: i was writing this @ an airport so i didn’t wanna spend time trying to think about any astronomical prodigious voluminous colossal words or trying to make this oneshot poetic or anything. enjoy! p.s. i’ve never gotten drunk before i’ve only gotten high so 💀

warnings: drunk, mentions of vomit, mentions of being kidnapped, that’s it i think

BUZZ BUZZ you felt your phone vibrate in your bra. your vision was slightly disoriented so it took you a couple of tries to even get in your phone. you saw the message notification from miguel, asking for a pin of your current location.

you believed that providing him with your location directly would be simpler than sending a pin to help him find you.

you adeptly typed, stringing together words that even shakespeare might envy, utilizing every term in the dictionary. your hands, experiencing cramps in the process. ‘bar.’

on miguel's side, he was nearly pacing back and forth, expecting a ransom letter from your kidnapper or some substantial information, and all he received was that brief message.

‘which one, cariño?’

you sighed as he couldn’t understand where you were. it was pretty plain and simple. you gave in and sent a pin. after that, you really don’t remember what was going on.

you came back to reality, found yourself laid in the back of miguel’s car. hozier quietly flowing out of the speakers. “this car is so nice, miggy…” you spoke with your face almost mushed in the seat.

"yeah?" miguel’s soft chuckle resonated, his deep voice nearly rendering him incomprehensible. "yeah," you responded, sharing a giggle with him.

“try not to be sick in here then, okay? we just have a few minutes left ‘til we get home.” you hummed as a reply, drifting away from reality once more.

you heard the car door open, your glossy eyes looking up at miguel’s tall figure. miguel swooped you up from the back. it was too fast for you. “don’t feel so good miggy.”

in a state of panic, miguel felt unsure of what to do next. should he quickly run to the bathroom? no, that’s what had triggered this situation. his gaze shifted to the trash bins in your garage, contemplating an alternative solution.

he walked over to them and popped the lid up, thankfully, trash day was that morning so there was no trash in the bin. he would still have to clean it out though.

your body never reacted well to alcohol, it always resulted to vomiting somewhere other than the restroom. this time, the victim was the roll bin.

"there you go, good girl," miguel comfortingly rubbed your back as you still felt a bit lightheaded and dehydrated. "i’m thirsty, miggy," you murmured, leaning your head back against his chest.

"alright, let's get you some water, baby," miguel said gently as he lifted you up, holding you in a swaddled manner. you rested your head on his chest and patiently waited as he carried you into the kitchen.

"put me on the countertop, it's cold," you instructed, pointing to the island counter. his laughter resonated through his chest as he carefully set you down on the cool surface. the cold marble sent a shiver through your backside.

miguel walked to the refrigerator, retrieved a bottle of water and a container filled with grapes. "here," he offered, handing you the water and keeping a watchful eye as you took sips.

you paused your drinking and set the water beside you. "nah uh, i want you to finish all of that before you eat these grapes," miguel insisted, his tone firm. he proceeded to wash the grapes and place them in a bowl.

with a groan, you chugged the remaining water in the bottle. "now the grapes, please...?" you requested, opening your mouth and patiently awaiting for miguel to feed you.

"of course, princess y/n," he replied with a smile, placing a grape in your mouth. you chewed with a content smile on your face.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o’hara oneshot #across the spiderverse #atsv miguel #rhiannon answered!#miguel x you #miguel spiderman #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x y/n

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oh-austin · 2 years

Text

lift a finger (austin butler)

summary: in which you're heavily pregnant on the set of elvis and austin is set on making sure you the most comfortable you can be

ask / prompt : Hi! Can you please do one where the reader is pregnant and Austin is just super overprotective and cute! You choose if you want to include the birth and make it extremely fluffy. I just thought this would be amazing.

authors note / warnings: mentions of pregnancy and vomiting! I chose not to put the birth and labour in because I have another piece planned for my inez and austin series coming soon!! we love dad!austin here <3

────── ∘◦❀◦∘

Nearing the end of your pregnancy, you thought you had faced the worst of it and it would be smooth sailing from here on out. Boy were you wrong.

It was hard being pregnant and married to an actor, the busy schedules and flying from location to location was hard to keep up with, but when you’re married to the man portraying Elvis Presley.. that’s a whole other story.

Austin constantly doted on you whenever he was given the opportunity, but since you were often at home whilst he was shooting- you never really gave him the chance. But since you were met with braxton hicks last week, your doctor has recommended always being in someone’s company; Austin made sure he was that someone.

If Austin was filming a scene in the hot sun, you were sitting under a sunshade in his chair. If the call time was until eleven o’clock at night, you were asleep nearby. Austin made sure he always had you close and somewhere that he could see you.

Usually, you wouldn’t complain about getting to see Austin work. Watching him in his element was truly something special, but over the last few days you’ve just wanted to lounge around in bed and maybe finish the nursery. But here you were, sat next to a bail of hay nearing nine pm as Austin and Tom filmed the carnival scenes.

“How you feeling, mamas?” Austin looked just delicious walking over to you in his black lace shirt. Reminded you of how you got pregnant in the first place. “You’re glowing,” He complimented you.

“I don’t feel like I’m glowing,” You admitted to him. It was a warm summer night in Queensland, the humidity was not your friend. Being in the northern parts of Australia came with its perks, the heat wasn’t one of them- especially when you’re eight months pregnant. “Your child has been kicking me all day,”

“My child, huh?” Austin laughed, he almost seemed offended. “How’s your stomach? Still feelin’ sick?”

“I don’t know if I’m just nauseous because I’m pregnant or because they’re moving so much,” You rubbed your hand over your belly, “But I’m starting not to care,”

“Did you want to head back to the trailer? Have you got water?” Austin looked around, “I asked to get you water like three takes ago,” Austin’s voice became frustrated when he noticed you only had your bag next to you, no water in sight.

“Hey, it’s okay! These people are here for you, not me,” You reminded him, “I don’t need water, I’m fine,” You reached for Austin’s hand the best you could and placed it on top of your belly. Like your baby knew that their daddy was there, a strong kick made you jolt in your seat.

“Hey!” Austin laughed, “You should be asleep, little miss,”

“We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet,” It was true, your gender reveal idea was canned as soon as filming picked up. Everyone that you really wanted to attend was in a different country anyway, so there really wasn’t much of a point. That and Austin loved surprises, but he was set on your baby being a little girl.

“Oh, she’s a girl,” Austin crouched down, giving your belly a kiss, “Ain’t that right, Pres?” Austin had been adamant that you were going to name your child Presley. She was made on set baby, only fair we name him after the man who brought us here, he would argue. You weren’t letting that happen.

Austin Butler, the man who played Elvis Presley named his daughter after him? You could see the headlines now.

“We’re not calling her Presley!” You tilted his chin up to look at you.

Austin’s face broke out in a cheeky grin as he stood back up, “You said she’s a girl,” He sang. As Baz called him back over to reshoot the scene, Austin danced away from you joking whilst softly chanting ‘girl, girl, girl’. You shook your head at him and laughed.

Soon, Baz had Austin film some solo shots at the carnival, making use of the set whilst they were here. Whilst Austin was busy shooting, Tom soon made his way over to you.

“Y/N, how are you?” He asked. Tom might have been one of the most genuine men you had ever met. Soft spoken and kind, he had the ability to make anyone feel safe and calm.

“I’m tired,” You admitted to him, “Probably not as tired as you are in that costume,” Tom looked barely anything like himself, it was incredible really.

“You get used to it,” He chuckled, taking a seat down in the chair next to yours, “How much longer now?” He asked.

“Three weeks,” Your eyes widened, your heart would always race whenever you admitted it out loud. Soon, you and Austin would no longer be a family of two- forever three of you.

“Wow!” He marvelled, “Not long then. The first one is always an adventure,”

“She’s been a pretty big adventure,” You laughed, patting your belly, “I’ll tell you that,” You felt a kick back in response.

“So you’re having a girl! How exciting,” Tom sat forwards the best he could, he was always so attentive in any conversation. “My second child was a girl, I love being her dad- Austin’s gonna love it too,”

“Well, we don’t know if it’s a girl, Austin just thinks it is,” You told him. Tom watched as you looked across the carnival and over at Austin, he could see the admiration in your eyes for him. Reminded him of his wife and himself. “We don’t even have a name yet,”

“Well what names do you like?” He asked.

You thought to yourself for a second, “I like Harper for a girl, Austin doesn’t like it though,” You laughed, “He says it doesn’t ‘work’”

“You’ll know when you find the right name,” Tom admitted, “You’ll understand what he means when he says ‘it works’, I promise you that,” He laughed.

“Thank you, Tom” You turned back to look at him. After a few more minutes of conversation, Baz called Tom back for another couple scenes and you were sat alone once more. Well, not completely alone- and your baby was definitely trying to remind you of that.

The longer that you sat, the more sick you began to feel. Your stomach felt like it was cramping and turning at the same time. You tried some deep breaths to calm yourself down, but you couldn’t.

Austin’s manager noticed that you weren’t feeling well, once you had to rest your head in your hands.

“Y/N, you okay?” James leant down and spoke with a quiet voice, knowing you weren’t someone who wanted the attention on themselves.

You shook your head and swallowed the lump in your throat. “I think I’m gonna be sick,”

James, with a gentle hand on your back, lead you back to Austin’s trailer and helped you into the bathroom. It was hard for you to get close to the ground these days, but at that moment- your body knew you needed to.

You threw up your dinner, your throat burned as you dry heaved over the toilet. James was kind enough to hold your hair back for you. After a few minutes, you were rested against the wall of Austin’s bathroom, James passing you a bottle of water from the miniature fridge. You thanked him softly and apologised to him.

James asked if you would be okay as you begged him to go back to work, not needing people to watch over you. You were pregnant, not helpless. So James went back to set as you sat there taking slow sips of your water.

As Baz yelled cut and announced that they were now wrapped for the night, Austin was relieved that he could now spend the rest of his night with his wife and their baby. But as he looked over to where she was supposed to be, he found his chair empty.

He should’ve noticed you were gone. Austin mentally cursed himself, always his own biggest critic. He was too invested in filming the scene he could spare a single glance over at you, he was so stupid, he thought to himself.

“James!” Austin called over to his manager. James looked nervous as he rushed over to Austin.

“I’ve just come from the trailers,” James explained, Austin noticed his uneasy nature, “Y/N has been sick, so I’ve left her in there to rest,”

“Shit!” Austin sighed, already leaving the conversation once he heard you weren’t well, “Why don’t people come and tell me these things!” He shouted back at James, “She’s pregnant!”

Austin wasn’t an angry person, he wasn’t someone to express his feelings of frustration. Rather keep them to himself and write them down in his journal later. But when it came to you and his baby, it was a different story.

Austin was overcome with anger when he saw you sitting on the bathroom floor, struggling to get back up. “Mamas, what are you doin’ down there?” Even when upset, the Elvis drawl stayed with Austin. He rushed over to you and put an arm underneath you, ready to help you to your feet.

“I was sick, I’m just trying to get up and brush my teeth,” You explained to Austin. As soon as you were back on your feet, your ankles ached once more- oh they joys of motherhood.

“Sick? How bad?” Austin put his hand to your forehead, trying to feel for a fever, “You need me to get the doctor? She’s probably not left yet-“

“Austin,” You cupped his face with your hands, “I’m okay,”

He seemed to calm down visibly in your embrace. Austin leant into your soft touch. “Promise me you’re okay?”

“I promise! I’m just pregnant, pregnant people throw up” You talked slower to try and bring Austin back down to earth. You took a few breaths with Austin before letting go of his face, going to grab your toothbrush from the bench.

“No,” Austin beat you to it, “You’re not allowed to lift a finger for the rest of the night, you’re on my time now,”

You rolled your eyes at him, taking your toothbrush back. “Aren’t you on the clock?”

“As of five minutes ago? No, no I’m not,” Austin smirked, “So, brush your teeth and get in bed,”

“Did you want to brush them for me?” You raised your eyebrows at him.

“Shh,” Austin grabbed your face softly and kissed your head, “Get brushing,”

Although Austin was doting and protective over you, you knew that Tom was right- Austin was going to be a great dad to your little girl.

#austin butler #austin butler imagine #elvis 2022 #austin butler one shot #austin butler x reader #austin butler fluff #austin butler drabble #dad!austin #celeste writes fics

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auroravictorium · 1 year

Text

karma (k.b.)

trick me once, trick me twice. don't you know that cash ain't the only price?

Summary: kaz gets his first piece of information about reader's whereabouts, and pekka gets his revenge; inej makes a pivotal discovery, and kaz vows to kill pekka rollins. Pairing(s): kaz x fem!reader (established relationship) Word Count: 3.8k Warnings: moderate violence [choking, breaking bones, punching, kicking], mentions of blood, mentions of killing (in the context of a threat), violent!kaz (but not as violent as he could be, y'know)

Genre: angst + action

Author's Note: another beast of a part for you guys!! i hope you all enjoy, and thank you to everyone for your kind words!! you're all so sweet i'm sobbing - promise we're gonna get a reunion between kaz and reader soooooooon! then some fluff hehe.

grishaverse masterlist

"I asked around," Nina said quietly, just for Kaz to hear as they stood behind a crumbling chimney atop a bank in the Financial District. It wasn't far from where Y/N was taken, and with this view, Nina couldn't blame Jesper and Inej for losing sight of the mercenaries. In the tangle of Ketterdam streets, it was too easy for them to get away. "Only three mercenary groups based in Kerch use ether."

"Which groups?" Kaz said, peering around the chimney and glancing at his pocket watch. Pekka Rollins's closest financier should be coming up for his hourly smoke anytime now, and Kaz was growing impatient. Not that he had much patience in the past three days, most of it shot by worry and an inability to stop wondering if you were still alive. He knew Pekka Rollins; he wouldn't choose a mercenary group that wasted time.

"-And the-Are you even listening to me?" Nina said, cutting herself off and looking at him with a raised brow. Her unimpressed look softened when she saw his pursed lips: his only tell that he was somewhere else, probably thinking about Y/N. "Kaz. We're going to find her."

Kaz turned and masked his concern with a scowl. "Of course we will. That's why we're here," he said sharply. She's in this mess because of me. The thought had plagued him since Inej and Jesper told him you were gone; finding you was the only way he could fix this. He wouldn't accept any alternative. "Which group uses ether the most?"

"They call themselves the Dykhaniye." Nina closed her eyes and felt for nearby heartbeats; none, except for Kaz's. "Wylan said ether is highly flammable. As far as anyone has heard, they're the only ones able to use it successfully without any significant losses on their end. Others have tried, but..." She shook her head to clear her thoughts. She didn't want to think about what ether was doing to Y/N. Difficulty breathing, fatigue, vomiting... Nina knew Y/N was strong but didn't know how long she could survive being repeatedly poisoned.

"We need to find where they're based. That's where they'll have taken her." Kaz clutched onto his cane and fought to keep his breathing steady. Nina's wording was deliberate. No significant losses on their end. If they found Y/N, what state would she be in? Would they kill her, or would exposure to the ether do it? "I'll send word to Inej."

"She's already investigating leads." Nina held up a hand, silencing Kaz as he opened his mouth to question how, exactly, Inej could already be investigating leads if Kaz had just heard this information. Nina tilted her head toward the door and mouthed, Later.

Fine. Kaz would question why he didn't hear about this first once he was done beating the shit out of the financier. Get the information, ask Inej what she knows, and find Y/N. He snapped his mouth shut and angled his head, listening as the door to the roof creaked open. The metal hinges squeaked terribly, grating Kaz's ears and making Nina cringe.

The door creaked shut, and Kaz heard footsteps approaching the edge of the roof. Nina raised her hands, already feeling for the man's breathing. It came to her as naturally as wind to sails, and she started to curl her fingers.

Kaz held up a finger. Wait. He glanced around the side of the chimney and watched the man next to the decorative metal fencing along the roof's edge. It was rusted, and pieces flaked off as the man lit his first cigarette, inhaled deeply, then tapped the ashes off using the fence.

He puffed away, looking over the city, and Kaz lowered his finger.

As the man inhaled, Nina clenched her fist.

The financier choked on the smoke and dropped the cigarette from his mouth. His hands went to his throat, and he stumbled back from the metal fence. He hacked and coughed, tipping forward until he sank to his knees. As his lips turned blue, he swung his head wildly from side to side to look around for anyone who could help.

Instead, he found Kaz, who had no intentions of helping the man get back to his smoke break. Vengeance burned in those icy blue eyes, and the man gaped in fear like a fish pulled from the sea.

Kaz brought his cane down on the man's skull. The man's mouth moved like he wanted to cry out, and he slumped to the side onto the rough surface of the roof. Blood seeped down the man's temple, and a sick satisfaction ran through Kaz, fueling his wrath and setting him ablaze from the inside out. He hauled the financier back to his knees with a gloved hand on the man's collar, then started dragging him toward the teetering metal fence.

The man writhed underneath his grip, his hands going to Kaz's wrist and pulling, trying to pry his fingers away. But Kaz's grip was as unbreakable as his determination to bring Ketterdam to its knees until he found Y/N, and he had no problem destroying this man and this city if it meant making sure you were safe.

Kaz positioned the man so he hung partially over the fence, his face turned to the streets below. Nina released her grip on the man's lungs enough for him to breathe some air but not enough to scream or make much noise. The man went slack once he could gasp, but Kaz wasn't foolish enough to release him.

"I'm only going to ask this nicely once," Kaz hissed, leaning in so his voice was a terrible, dangerous whisper in the financier's ear. His eyes glinted in the setting sun, the icy blue color turning a sinister shade of orange as his irises caught the sun's fading rays. "Pekka Rollins paid off mercenaries recently. How much did it cost?"

Nina stayed behind the chimney, giving Kaz the space to work, but she peeked at the man as he gasped for air. His heart raced against his ribcage fast enough to make her want to wince, and his lungs strained with the effort to keep up with his panic. Saints, Kaz was trying to send this man into heart failure before getting any answers.

"I can't-" the man wheezed through blue lips, "tell you." His face throbbed as gravity forced his blood to his head, and his breathing trembled.

Kaz pushed the financier further over the barrier, which creaked dangerously under the man's weight. "You can, and you will," Kaz said. He jerked his chin toward the street below, filled with passersby on their way home for the evening or to the East Stave for some debauchery to relieve the workday's stress. "Or I just might lose my grip."

"He'll kill me," the man whimpered. He coughed, and his mouth tasted like copper. "He said he'd kill me."

"I think you're worried about the wrong person." Kaz kicked the metal fence, and the segment beneath the man buckled. The financier cried out as he hung over the alleyway, supported only by Kaz's grip on his collar. He finally seemed to realize that Kaz intended to let him hurtle off the roof headfirst if he didn't get answers, and he sobbed a quiet plea for help. Nobody looked up, the sound muffled by a twitch of Nina's fingers.

"How. Much," Kaz pressed. His arm was beginning to strain from holding the man up, and his leg was none too pleased with the exertion required to keep his weight steady on the roof's edge.

"Two million kruge," the man sobbed. "Mercenaries wouldn't accept anything less."

Kaz tilted his head. "Is he telling the truth?" he said too calmly, the question intended for Nina. He could feel her eyes on him, on his complete indifference to the man's desperation to survive. But this paled in comparison to what Kaz wanted to do in revenge for your kidnapping.

Nina winced, though Kaz's tone was outwardly neutral. She peered at his face. His expression bordered on bloodthirsty, and Nina swallowed. "Yes," she said softly.

Sometimes it was easy to forget how Kaz got his reputation, especially when Nina saw him around Y/N. He was always kind with her, as tender or gentle as a man with such sharp edges could be, and he never responded to her with anything other than a racing heart or caught breaths.

Kaz loved Y/N, whether he admitted it to himself or not, and Nina's ability to hear the signs made her forget that he could be like this. And he would if it meant keeping his Crows secure, his business intact, Y/N alive and safe.

Kaz surveyed the man's face, the tears in his eyes, and his moving lips as he murmured prayers to his saints. He considered Nina's confirmation of the financier's truthfulness, yet how easy it could be to throw this man off the roof and be done with it. It would be merciful compared to what Kaz wished he could do to this man for his role in your kidnapping, enabling Pekka Rollins to hire the mercenaries.

Chances are, the financier didn't even know your name. It wasn't in his purview.

Kaz clenched his jaw. This man's death could send a message and make it clear that Kaz would only do worse until he got the information he wanted. He could cause terror, drive the Dime Lions out of hiding and force someone to yield information. It was what Pekka Rollins would do if Kaz had inflicted the magnitude of pain that Rollins had.

His brother. His childhood. His Crows. His love.

He jerked the financier upright once more, and the man let out a sob that Kaz cut off as he shoved the man away from the roof's edge. The man rolled a few feet away and stopped at the bottom of the chimney, crying and mumbling prayers into his palms.

Kaz crossed over to him in two long strides and brought the blunt end of his cane down on the man's ribcage hard enough to fracture bone. Nina winced when she heard the crunch, pressing herself into the side of the chimney; the cold seeped from the bricks into her back, and she squeezed her eyes shut.

"Which group of mercenaries did Rollins need the money for?" Kaz growled. He moved the tip of his cane to an unbroken rib and leaned just enough weight on it that the man choked on another cry.

"The Dykhaniye," the man wailed. He'd given up on trying to conceal information from Kaz Brekker, who knew exactly what buttons to push to get what he wanted. "I don't know what he wanted with them." He turned his head to the side and spat to clear his airway, creating a mess of blood and tears down the side of his face and on the ground.

Kaz lifted his cane, and the man immediately tried to wriggle away from him as if he could get far enough to be out of reach of the crow-headed cane. "That wasn't so difficult, was it?" Kaz said. He tossed a wad of kruge at the man's battered chest, and the bills scattered across the rooftop on a light breeze. "For your trouble."

It was mocking, but he could have done much worse. If the financier had any sense left, he would take the money and get the hell out of the city before Pekka Rollins caught wind of his men breaking under threat from Kaz Brekker.

He turned and caught Nina's gaze. Giving her a curt nod of thanks, he spun on his heel and went for the door leading off the roof. She rushed to follow, sparing a short glance at the sobbing man next to the chimney. "You were right," he said quietly. It was the closest he would get to approving of her telling Inej of her suspicions before him. "Now, we wait to hear what Inej knows."

Your head snapped sharply to the side as Pekka Rollins cracked his knuckles across your cheek. Pain blossomed across your jaw, throbbing hard enough to rattle your teeth, and you bit your tongue to silence your cry. Every breath you took stung your lungs, and your chest struggled to rise and fall against the pressure of your broken ribs.

You fought to stay upright, forced to shift your knees against the hard ground without using your hands to balance. Your right knee scraped harshly against the stone floor, and the pain was worse than anything Rollins had done to you. It shot up and down your leg like a strong electric shock straight to your nerves, and it took everything you had to not let a sob of agony cross your lips.

Breathe. Let the pain out through your lungs. You forced a trembling breath in and out, trying to imagine the pain in your body turning to mist. You thought of the low clouds that lingered in Ketterdam during the summer, how they occasionally brought cool breezes along to soothe the sweating inhabitants of the city.

It had been days since you'd seen the sky, and thinking of Ketterdam's consistently gray skies brought you a unique mix of pain and comfort. What you would give to be under the clouds with the breeze on your skin.

If you got out of here alive, you would never again take the sight of the sky for granted.

When. When I get out of here.

"I'll ask you again," Rollins said, pacing before you like a predator cornering its prey. His hair drooped in his face, and the front of his clothes was stained dark with broth. There was a slice across his cheekbone from a shard of porcelain, and blood was smudged across his knuckles and fingertips. Yours and his. He looked nothing more than the scum he was, with any semblance of composure or pride wiped from his face as you refused to break under his fists. "Why did Brekker want those documents?"

You spat at his feet. Blood splattered the hem of his trousers and his polished shoes, but the wicked satisfaction wasn't worth a slap jerking your head to the other side. This time, a soft groan of pain slipped out. Your cheek throbbed, and you swiped your tongue across your dry lips as you panted. In. Out. Keep breathing.

You could do this. You could keep fighting long enough to make a plan. The mercenaries had long since left the two of you alone; all you had to do was get past Pekka, swipe the knife from his belt, and saw away at the rope binding your wrists. If they hadn't dragged you up a flight of chipped stone stairs and away from your cell, you would consider using a shard from the bowl you'd shattered; if you made it back down, you would be sure to pocket one. Use what you have.

Pekka leaned down and grabbed your chin, forcing you to look up at him. "You're making this harder than it needs to be, lass," he snarled. "Perhaps I should have passed you over to the Stadwatch. You've killed a fair share of my men, and murder can be a serious charge if I want it to be."

"Then do it," you spat. Blood dripped down your lip, and you considered spitting it in his face. You didn't bother licking it away, unwilling to let him see how much the metallic taste in your mouth bothered you. "Why waste your time?"

"Because you're valuable to Brekker, stupid girl." Rollins laughed, a grating, taunting sound that sent a shiver down your spine. You flexed your fingers, wishing you could wrap them around his throat and strangle the sound out of his lungs. All of this is because Kaz poses a threat to his business.

But there had to be more. There had to be something Kaz hadn't told you.

No. Save the doubt for later.

Pekka kicked you in the ribs, knocking you back into the wall. Fiery pain rushed to your chest, and whatever air you'd gathered slipped past your lips in a soft wheeze. Your back ached from its collision with the stone wall. Everything hurt, and you weren't sure you could stand.

A bloody cough slipped past your lips, and tears welled up in your swollen eyes. You wished you could wipe them away, avoid showing Pekka Rollins how weak you were feeling. But you were powerless to stop them, and you had no choice but to lean your head back against the stones and squeeze your eyes shut. Stop crying. Breathe.

Breathing could only get you so far.

Pekka turned and slammed his fist against the heavy oak door keeping you inside this room with him. Inside this damn warehouse, from what you'd gathered on your straggling, painful walk up from your cell. You wished you had the strength to attack Pekka while his back was turned, but you could only bring yourself to open your eyes as the door opened and two of the mercenaries entered.

Sergei and Fjerdan Asshole. Just the people you wanted to see.

You glowered at them as they jerked you to your feet, and Sergei only gave you an unpleasant smirk. Another cough bubbled up in your chest as the mercenaries hauled you toward the door, filling your mouth with blood. You glared at Pekka Rollins as you passed him, and he looked back at you smugly.

"I can't wait until Brekker sees what I've done to you," he drawled, following you to the office door. "His rage will make it even more satisfying when I kill him."

When I kill him.

Something hot and red and destructive washed over you. Every ounce of pain in your body seemed to temporarily numb, yielding to the pure wrath burning beneath your skin. You would bear as much pain as Pekka Rollins gave you, the bruises and cuts and broken bones. But you would make sure there was nothing left of him, the Dime Lions, or Ketterdam if he went after Kaz; losing Kaz was a pain you refused to bear.

You looked over your shoulder at Rollins, piercing him with a simmering glare that would have made anyone else shrink back. "You have a spot of blood on your tie," you snarled. Then, you spat your mouthful of blood in his face.

Rollins reeled back with a roar of outrage, wiping away the blood but only succeeding in smearing it through his beard. A murderous look filled his eyes, but he didn't have enough time to act on it before the mercenaries shoved you out of the office and toward the dark stairs leading to the warehouse basement.

Inej darted up the stairs to Kaz's office, panting and shoving past meandering Dregs coming out of their room for an early breakfast. She swung around the corner and pushed open Kaz's door, nearly hitting Jesper. He jumped out of the way and surveyed her disheveled state, opening his mouth to, presumably, ask what happened.

She dropped a stack of papers on Kaz's desk and leaned against the chair across from his to catch her breath. "Straight from the office of Pekka Rollins," she gasped, holding her side. "The Dykhaniye are based in Zierfoort. They own every warehouse complex in the city as a front for their operations. That's where they took her."

Kaz immediately shoved his map to the side and started flipping through the papers, glancing up at Inej. "How? I told you not to risk it." He jerked a transaction list free from the stack, and his icy eyes scanned it for any precise information. Which warehouse, which side of the city, anything that might expedite their search for Y/N. "Jesper, the carriage. Now."

"On it, Boss." Jesper gently squeezed Inej's shoulder on his way out. She squeezed his wrist in thanks. "Good job," he whispered. He left the office, and his thundering footsteps rattled the floorboards as he moved down the stairs.

"Wylan staged a distraction. The grunts around the perimeter of the Emerald Palace had to go investigate an explosion on one of their ships in Fourth Harbor." Inej straightened up and searched Kaz's face. "I shouldn't have gone without letting you know, but she's my friend, Kaz. I can't sit idly knowing I could have done something to stop this."

"There was nothing you could have done," Kaz said quietly. He stood and rolled the papers up, stuffing them in the inner pocket of his coat. He met Inej's gaze, and she was relieved to find no anger there. None directed at her, anyway. "Pekka had this plotted out for months. They found servant stairwells that we thought were blocked off, and he hired the best mercenaries that kruge could buy."

Kaz didn't blame Inej or Jesper. He blamed himself entirely. I was the one who put her at risk. I let her become my weakness, and she's paying the price. He grabbed his cane and a pistol from some hidden spot beneath his desk and spun the latter in his fingers.

Inej examined Kaz's face, searching for any hint of a contradiction to his words. When she found none, her shoulders loosened. "I'll get Nina and Matthias. Wylan is already downstairs."

"Matthias and Wylan stay. They'll watch over the Club and the Slat until we return." Kaz grabbed his hat, stared at it for a moment, then put it back down. You were the last to wear it when you used it as a disguise to get him breakfast on his birthday. It reminded him too strongly of you, of his failure to say what he longed to say before the bank job.

You expressed your love for him so often and so carefully that he wondered why you woke up every day and still chose him, when he could barely tell you that he cared without choking on his past. Would you still choose him when all of this was said and done? Would you realize that he was at fault for this, that he was nothing more than a shell of a man, too haunted, too broken, too bruised, who brought pain to anyone who dared to get close?

Kaz blinked back to the present, pulling himself from the color of your eyes, the memories of his fingers clasping your favorite necklace around your neck. "Let's go," he said quietly, ignoring Inej's concerned look. She'd probably said his name a few times. He didn't care. "It's a day's trip to Zierfoort."

And he stalked out of the office, leaning heavily on his cane and pondering how it would feel to finally kill Pekka Rollins.

TAGLIST: @tonberry-yoda, @b3kk3r-by-br3kk3r, @futurecorps3, @statsvitenskap, @sapphiccloud, @casualladyinternet, @d34drapunzel, @noctemys, @whitejxsmine, @so6, @franzelt, @ell0ra-br3kk3r, @marlene-the-witch, @thestudiouswanderer, @lyjen, @rideacowb0y, @weasleybuns, @dal-light, @mariatpwk, @dreammgc, @elysian-chaos, @breadbrobin,@poppyflower-22, @halfofagayallofaqueer, @battleraven, @amarokofficial, @tenaciousperfectionunknown, @poppyflower-22, @madnessinwrighting, @ponyboys-sunsets, @circus-of-thoughts, @empresspenguin, @mediocrestuff, @stonksman8, @alanis-altair, @thefandomplace, @alohastitch0626, @the-royal-paintbrush, @just-here-for-ff, @whos6claire, @jodiereedus22, @be-lla-vie, @despoinapav05, @arianyo, @willowpains, @geekmom3

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abiiors · 24 days

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birthday surprise - matty x reader

part 2 of matty's birthday weekend a/n: this is scheduled. by the time this goes up, i will (hopefully🤞🏼) be on a beach somewhere, day drunk 😌 cw: vomit (because hungover), dramatic (because sad), once again vague descriptions of depression. some kissing and suggestive stuff. idiots friends to lovers wc: 3.1k

george’s massive hand rests on matty’s back while he retches into the toilet.

his head pounds mercilessly, the sunlight streaming in through the window is barely helping and the soured wine churning in his stomach comes back up once again, leaving him gasping for air. a loud splash echoes in the bathroom and matty groans, gagging a bit more.

george is a good friend. he lets matty lean on him and holds the glass of water so matty can slowly sip from it.

it barely works though. he feels like shit regardless, and none of it can be cured by water or food or painkillers.

george helps him get back to bed once matty feels slightly better. the whole time neither of them say a word. matty doesn’t know how much of last night has been told to his friend—does he know the precise way in which matty fucked up? did he see matty in the act? overhear the conversation accidentally?

george’s face looks completely blank. he does all the right things—sets a glass of water and a few painkillers next to matty, grabs him a bucket, draws the blackout curtains. he even offers to get breakfast.

“fry up from that small cafe down the street,” he says in a hushed voice. “come on, greasy food’s good for hangovers.”

matty mumbles something like a vague yes, if only so george would step out of the house for a bit. once he’s out, matty searches for his phone, wedged somewhere between the mattress and the headboard. the sudden brightness makes him wince but once he manages to open his eyes, he checks for messages and missed calls.

apart from one missed call from george and one from jamie, there’s nothing.

nothing from her.

not one message.

the last message he’s sent to her sits at read—it’s nothing special, just the address to the pub they were going to meet at. and then… yeah, matty remembers how well that went.

he remembers the last look on her face before she stormed off.

then it’s just a fog.

his throat feels clogged, his eyes sting but no tears come. matty just lays there, curled up like a pathetic worm, clutching his pillow until seconds or minutes or hours later george re-enters his room.

“right, come on,” he flings the covers off matty, making him feel a sudden draft of cold air. “i’m not getting you breakfast in bed, mate. you’re hungover, not an invalid.”

“‘m not hungry,” matty mumbles. his voice is hoarse and his throat hurts—probably the vomiting—but it’s nothing in comparison to his head. a delayed realisation hits him that he never took the painkillers.

george huffs. “don’t be a diva.” and if matty had any strength he would absolutely be offended by that. then again maybe george doesn’t know the full extent of last night.

“seriously george—”

“matty. you’re going to get out of bed and come to the kitchen. we are going to eat and then we are going to talk about last night.”

well… there goes that. a stubborn side of him wants to be an absolute ass and dig his feet in. say all sorts of mean things to george just so he’d leave. but isn’t that what got him here in the first place? he really isn’t in the position to hurt more people in his life.

like a small child matty drags his feet the entire way to the kitchen, turning his nose up at the food on the table. (even though it looks really good and his stomach does growl now that he can smell the food) george doesn’t egg him on any further. he just motions to the chair and slides a mug of coffee in front of him.

“you said what?”

it’s the eerily calm edge to george’s voice that makes matty shrink in his seat. he does feel better with some food in his stomach, physically at least. but the way george stares at him—eyes cold, lips pressed in a thin line—makes him feel sick to his stomach all over again.

“i said– i– i said it was the first of april, i told her it was a joke.” his voice is a pathetic whisper, words drowned by shame and guilt and self-hatred. matty wishes he could go back in time and undo it all. he won’t say any of it.

he won’t even touch the wine in the first place.

“right after you said i love you.”

“yeah.”

“huh.”

easy for george to say that. it’s not his love life blowing up in his face right now. matty stabs the tomato next to his half-eaten toast, watching it spill its guts onto the plate. red. just like last night.

he remembers that part of it.

“what happened after? how did i… get home?”

george goes a bit silent for a second, not meeting matty’s eyes which sets alarm bells ringing in his head.

“do you really not remember?”

when matty shakes his head, george just sighs and then softly says her name. “she called charli, crying a lot and i figured something went down. i called you–don’t you remember that?” when matty’s blank face gives him the answer, george continues, “you sounded really awful like… you were gasping for breath. i could barely understand you. so i thought i’d pick you up and get you home. i’m glad i did.”

in all of this the only part matty focuses on is her. and that she called charli crying a lot. of course, he thanks george but it’s only half-hearted, distracted. he can’t get the image of it out of his mind—her sobbing on the other end of the phone, barely able to get a word out. it breaks his heart all over again.

he did that.

this is all his fault.

“matty… you have to make it right.”

that’s the biggest problem of it all—he doesn’t know how. what is he supposed to do, call her up and say: hey, so you know how i drunkenly said i love after which i assumed you looked at me with disgust and then i said it was all a joke and you stormed off? well it was not a joke i am seriously in love with you and i don’t know what happens to our friendship after this.

yeah. there’s no way to put it any better.

so he just nods. at least, that way he doesn’t have to answer to george right now. he’s figure out a way to do it later, once he doesn’t feel like a raisin. he’ll figure out a proper plan, build up the courage to call her.

for now matty can only swallow the rest of the now-lukewarm coffee and hope that he can just sleep the rest of the day off.

for three days after that, his messages stay on delivered.

it’s a harrowing process, to pick up his phone and dial her number only for it to go to voicemail after the second ring. almost like she’d stabbed her thumb on the glaring red reject button.

all his messages went unanswered too. all the—

hey

can we talk please?

please!

i just want to say sorry

just hear me out

—all of them ignored, like all his other efforts to reach her through her friends.

day four charli shows up at his doorstep, face twisted in a scowl, eyes like embers ready to singe him if he stepped one toe out of line, mayhem in tow.

the puppy is his last straw. the fact that she sent mayhem back with charli instead of dropping him off herself… matty doesn’t even want to think what that means for him. for them.

he mumbles a quiet “thanks” to charli, afraid of speaking anything louder.

“if it weren’t for george—” she starts and swallows, as if she’s literally swallowing her anger. “nevermind. forget about it.”

and then she leaves him standing at his doorstep like a loser, mayhem’s leash in hand.

much later he realises that the collar is different now, it’s no longer the slightly frayed old brown collar from before. this one is new.

this one is green. a green that matches her hair…

the thought of it makes his throat clog up with tears once again. when had she even had the time to go buy him a new collar? one to match her hair so perfectly? was it before or after he fucked up? matty scratches mayhem behind his ears who lets out a soft little whine and nuzzles him in return. maybe the puppy is sad too, maybe mayhem prefers being with her instead of being with him.

the next few days he spends like a pig in a pigsty, surrounded by his own filth of food cartons and cigarette butts and coke cans. he makes it a mission to call her once every day—all of them go unanswered anyway so what’s the point?

by the time the seventh of april rolls around, matty doesn’t even bother thinking about his birthday anymore—there’s no pointing in celebrating it, he’s not even in the mood right now. one failed celebration is enough.

his friends, of course, have a whole different plan in mind.

jamie shows up at his house the evening of the seventh, not ready to take no for an answer. it’s just a small dinner, he says, only friends and family. (matty knows that’s not true, knows it’s going to be a whole surprise party) but every “no” is met with a gentle refusal to accept it and so ultimately, he gives in and dresses up in his cleanest, least sad shirt. the one that least screams “i took my first shower of the week today”.

jamie, to his credit, tries engaging him in conversation. matty, to his credit, tries not to answer in one syllable words. it gets exhausting real quick though, so they end up spending the rest of the car ride in silence.

everything that happens after is a blur in his mind—the pub looks ordinary from the outside, inconspicuous. everyone yells “surprise!” much like he predicted. matty smiles, cheery and fake. someone hands him a drink, which he tries to refuse but the person is too far away to hear him over the music now. his stomach roils at the thought of being in another pub, in the middle of another birthday party.

he just wants to go home and curl up onto his bed and never move again.

except…

matty’s heart stops when he spots a green head.

he blinks rapidly, about to rub his eyes to make sure he didn’t hallucinate. maybe there are drugs in the air, maybe the (untouched) drink in his hands is actually spiked.

but the green head moves and she steps away from behind george, a glass of some dark cocktail in her hands and her eyes trained on him. matty staggers to a stop, about to drop the glass in his hands.

“hey…” her voice is hesitant, unsure when she first walks up to him. from behind her, george throws matty a look, his brow raised as if to say one chance, matty. better make it right.

of all the things that have happened today, this… this is the real surprise.

matty stands there like an idiot, tongue-tied and wide-eyed, unable to come up with a simple “hi”.

“should we… uh, head outside?” it’s when she points vaguely behind her, to the smoking area, that he realises just how loud it is inside. the consistent beat of the song thumps through his chest, making him feel more anxious than ever. in a daze, he nods and then dutifully follows her outside.

as soon as the door to the smoking area closes behind him, she whirls around, arms crossed in front of her chest, brows knit in an indecipherable expression. “talk.”

oh.

well, that’s what he had said to her hadn’t he? in all the text messages he had sent. that he just wants to talk. he just wants one chance. and now that the chance is here, his mouth's as dry as a desert.

“i was… an idiot, no forget that, i was a real cunt to you. just like you said, i’m so sorry for the awful shit i said, i…” his words come out stilted and awkward. he has no idea where he’s going with this, he only knows he needs to earn her forgiveness somehow.

even if he has to get on his knees.

“i got drunk an–and cruel and said things i didn’t mean—”

“what things?”

“w-what?”

“the things you didn’t mean,” she clears her throat, “what things were they? the part where you said i love you or–or the part where you said it was all a joke?”

matty’s insides feel like jelly all over again. it’s like he’s back where he was a week ago—just a boy, standing in front of the girl he loves, about to say the stupidest thing in the world.

“well?”

“i didn’t mean it as a j–joke.” his voice comes out as a cowardly whisper, high pitched and barely audible. that’s no way to say the things he really wants to say!

gathering all his courage, matty steps closer to her. to his utter surprise, she doesn’t step away.

“it wasn’t a joke, what i said to you. i—” he chokes, nervously running a hand through his hair, wondering what the slight widening of her eyes means out of the million possibilities his brain’s already conjured up.

“i know i was drunk and barely making sense but i meant it… i meant all of it.”

slowly, she uncrosses her arms, letting them dangle at her sides. the crease between her brows relaxes too. suddenly, it’a her taking a step forward until they’re toe-to-toe and she has to tilt her chin up to look him in the eyes. the moonlight shines bright on her face, the glitter gleams on her eyelids, and for a moment matty is completely awestruck.

how is he meant to find words when she leaves him so completely tongue-tied?

“and what’s ‘it’, huh?”

the faint ringing in his ears starts up all over again and music from inside the pub floats through the walls, mellowed and somehow peaceful. this is it, he thinks. he fucked it up once, he absolutely cannot do it again.

“i meant i… i love you. not as a friend. i mean n-no, of course, i love you as a friend but i also meant it as something more. not that you have to reciprocate! i just–it’s just what i feel—”

the rest of his words die on his lips. get cut off by someone else’s lips more like it. her lips. against his.

matty’s eyes resemble wide saucers until her arms wrap around him, fingers tangling into his hair. her nails brushing against his scalp is what makes his body relax and suddenly matty’s kissing her back.

tenderly, he holds her cheek, tucking away stray hair behind her ear. his other hand rests on her waist, too hesitant to grip her tightly but too scared to just let go. as if once he lets go of her, she’ll float away, far away from him again, out of his reach. matty’s sure she can feel his heart hammering in his chest. he’s not super proud of it but the kiss makes him forget all about being embarrassed.

the feel of her tongue lighting teasing his lips is all that matters.

she makes a sound at the back of her throat, almost a… moan and pulls away abruptly, looking shy all of a sudden.

matty touches his lips with trembling fingers.

“was that too—”

“are you joking?!” if he though his voice was breathy before, it has nothing on what he sounds like now. the sound that comes out of him is hoarse, like he’s struggling to breathe and it’s making him feel dizzy. the good kind of dizzy. “so i fucked up, majorly, might i add! and i get rewarded with a kiss?!”

she giggles, all anger from before melting away right in front of his eyes. “it was more to shut you up honestly, you would have been here all night. rambling.”

for the first time in a week, matty can finally breathe, can finally feel the blood in his veins flow again. for the first time in a week, matty feels like a person again. “it wasn’t a reward. just because you’re pretty and a good kisser doesn’t mean i’ll forgive you so quickly.”

matty grins, “you think i’m pretty?” and promptly gets punched in the arm.

it takes them a moment to stop giggling, but when they finally sober up, she turns serious again. “seriously though, matty, it hurt me a lot, what you did. i think… i think i can set it aside for tonight but i’m going to need some time to figure things out.

matty nods. of course, he knows the impact his words must have had. shame and guilt blooms deep within him, strong and acrid.

“don't forgive me yet, love. forgive me when i earn it. forgive me when you think i’m worthy of it.”

when she kisses him again, it’s deeper than the last time. her entire body is pressed against his, so warm and soft in arms, exactly like he’s imagined countless times before. he can’t stop himself—can’t stop him from finally holding onto her waist, hand sliding down to her ass. can’t stop himself from pushing her back till her back hits the wall and a soft gasp leaves her mouth. every nerve ending in his body is on hyperdrive. everywhere she touches, electricity zings through him.

matty slides his tongue in her mouth, pulling on her bottom lip with his teeth and soothing the sting away with his tongue. every time he feels her shiver, matty presses further into her. he just wants more and more and more—more than he can do here and now on this balcony.

all his friends are inside for fucks sake.

“you can start now,” she teases, smiling roguishly against his mouth. “you’d look quite nice on your knees, i think.”

blood simmers under his skin, rushing south all at once and this time it’s matty who shivers, struggling to stand upright.

“yeah? that what you want, sweetheart?”

“take me home, please,” she says. and matty agrees in a heartbeat.

taglist: @scooby-doodoo @partoftheairforce @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855 @beachesgetpeaches @you-muppet @mcabister @alexmarie29 @at-her-very-foreign @hfkait @squishysoupy @sierraeslaprincesa @harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet @thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername @celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl @sinarainbows @starvchaser @noacfapologyst @abouttofillhisshoes @tbhnotthatfunny

add yourself to the taglist

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adventuringblind · 7 months

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Drive With You Forever

Chapter fifteen: Figuring it Out

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc x Lando Norris x Reader x Oscar Piastri

Chapter summary: The reader has a dream, books are burned, the reader gets sick again, but the doctors are nice this time!

Warnings: Every form of abuse is depicted in this story. Sickness, vomiting, fever, nightmares, panic attacks, graphic description of SA, child SA, Rape, unconsenual medical procedures, mild implied SH,

Notes: This is so long. I couldn't find a good stopping point, so I just kept going...

Previous <-

Masterlist

Why is everything so blurry?

The lights are swimming and she can't seem to find her footing. They world beauty her seeming to sway.

She blinks away the feeling, looking to find her center and figure out what’s going on.

“…test number six hundred and thirty four…” says a muffled voice from somewhere in front of her. A familiar voice at that. She hauls herself of the ground as her vision begins to clear up.

She’s still in the basement. Where did everyone else go? She scans the room in search of any sign that their comfort is near.

Her panic increases as she can’t see them. Her chest becomes heavy at the thought of being trapped here once again.

Then she sees his face. For a moment she locks eyes with him, but he passes right by here without a thought.

He keeps circling her wooden box of a bed. She must be in someone’s memory. She would says it’s her own but she doesn’t remember this. Or she does and she just locked in away.

She knew she was unconscious or incoherent enough that she could never quite tell what was happening aside from the feelings. Normally, pain. Sometimes, there were differences in textures. Occasionally, hands.

He’s working in her unconscious body. He sticks her body with all sorts of things she cannot name.

She doesn’t want to be here for this. She doesn’t want to see herself go through this. Feel those things again.

She runs runs up the stairs only to find herself back in the basement room.

There are so many people here. All of them dressed in odd looking costumes. It almost looks like a Halloween party but if the theme was pilgrims.

She sees her unconscious body again. This time layer out in the middle of the floor, bare for everyone to see.

Why are they taking turns touching her in such a way? Was the feeling of hands never just her fathers?

She feels sick. She thought the first time her body had gone through such a thing was the Max. It was different then. He was gentle and kind and he constantly asked if she was okay.

Again she makes an attempt at an escape. Again she find herself in the same room in a memory that’s not her own. Her father has been here in every single one. She assumes that it’s his memory, his connection to her amplified by her wooden coffin.

She’s sitting in the box, playing with strands of light that dance out of her fingertips. She looks at herself and there is no recognition. Her eyes are hazy and the motions feel robotic.

She’d always hated waking from these trances he’d put her in. No memory of what she’d done.

“It’s not enough! Why can’t I amplify your power?” He growls. He’s lankier in this memory then he was when he came to the paddock. His face less wrinkly and no grey hairs in sight. She must have been about ten if she remembered his appearance correctly.

Another man comes down the stares but her past self makes no movement.

“If she can’t bear a child we’ll be finished.” The figure is cloaked in darkness. His voice echoes through the room.

“I’m aware.” Her father spits.

“We need their power if we want to continue living.”

Living? She wondered at times how her father seemed to have knowledge beyond his years. The stories he’d shared about how her mother kept him young she thought was nothing more then a myth.

They are exploiting her. They need her. They need her body and power to continue to keep their supposed immortality.

How is that even possible.

“I’ve managed to make the constraints less.”

“Show me.”

She assumes that whoever this dark shadowy figure is, is in charge.

She watches as a rotten apple it placed in front of her unresponsive body. She still makes no move. Not even a sound.

“Fix it.”

Her past self obeys the command and lets the light dance around the the apple. It begins curling itself around the shape. She can feel the warmth through her own skin.

It’s beautiful in a way. How the light moves and repairs.

This time the memory fades away. The room shifting into something unfamiliar. She’d never see this place before.

It’s a wooden building. It feel hollow and smells of mildew. The men from before are once again dressed up, but they all look different.

They are doing what they did to her. Their terrible ritual. The women’s body in the center is unconscious, but she looks far different from her mother.

Aside from the hair. She’d seen picture of her mother. Their hair practically identical and now this woman’s is as well.

They take her apart as well. It's strange how they drink the crimson leaking from her. Her father was a human as far as she was aware. So why were these people acting like vampires?

Something, a woman’s voice, warm and kind, tells her to watch these men. Each one that takes instantly becomes younger. Any hints of wrinkles gone. Their hair becomes full and vibrant.

Then the scene vanishes.

Everything is dark and she doesn’t want to be alone in it.

The voice calls her further in, and she wastes no time sprinting towards it. The abyss seems to never end.

The voice gets louder as a ghostly figure comes into view. It’s familiar and it’s kind.

It’s her mother.

She halts in front of it. Just an arms length away.

“I can feel that you’re frightened. There is no need to fear me.”

“But you died.” Her voice is shaky and confused. She feels so small in comparison to the figure.

“It’s a connection we all share.”

“What are we?”

“Witches I suppose. Maybe a deity of some kind.” She shrugs. “You’ve been so strong to face this alone.” The ghost reaches to touch, and she finds herself leaning into it. It’s not cold but comforting.

“How were you making them younger?”

“It’s something inside us. Some drink out blood, others use sex, and when strong enough, it can even come from just a touch with someone you have a strong connection with.” She explains.

“What about my other powers then? Could you do that too?”

“That, unfortunately, was your fathers doing. The healing comes from your bloodline, the rest is something I don’t understand.” She sighs with a hint if exasperation. “I’m sorry, that I haven’t been there. You’ve managed to suppress more then I would’ve imagined.”

“I’m sorry I killed you.” Her eyes find her feet. The shame of why she is this way creeping back in.

The ghost leans down to her. “That was not your fault. That could’ve never been your fault and there wasn’t anything you could do to stop it. We’re not immune to death.”

She feels herself being dragged away and into the void. “No!” She screams. “Don’t leave me!”

The ghost reaches out to her one last time and kisses her forehead. She feels an energy she’s never had before flowing through her veins. It’s not scary though, it’s welcoming. “I’ve always been here and I’m not going anywhere.”

She can’t even register the tears as she falls into the void. The once welcoming feeling now morphing into the ones she felt earlier.

Hands. Needles. Whispers. Breaths. Knives. Teeth.

An endless fall into the fear she knows so well.

Lando is still awake despite everyone’s best attempts to get him to sleep. He’d been awake for almost twenty four hours. His eyes are heavy and he wants to succumb to sleep so badly, but he can’t. His mind refuses to stop thinking about every possibility.

This is why he’s able to react to the ear-piercing scream so quickly. While everyone else is stumbling around, he’s taking the stairs by two. Hanna told them to stay out of the room and let her rest meaning they were stuck in the downstairs room.

Of course Seb is at the door before him.

Seb opens in and Lando is bounding over to the distressed female. Her hands are clawing at her own skin to the point she’s drawing blood. Her eyes are screwed shut and her legs are trying to move her away from something even though she’s not getting far. Eventually she hits the headboard.

“Y/N, it’s me, open your eyes please love your safe now.” He whispers. It comes out shaky because he’s distressed but he knows he needs to keep himself as calm as possible.

Seb stands at the side of one of the beds. She’s feeling for an exit and will fall off if she keeps it up. He lets Lando soothe her. His whispers helping the screams to die out.

The other three appear in the door as well. Only for a few seconds though before they’ve dispersed to grab things.

Finally Lando coax’s her into opening her eyes. She’s still rubbing at her skin, clawing lines into it, but she sees him. “There you are.” He smiles at her. Her breathing is still massively uneven, but she lets him get a little closer. “Can I come over to you?”

She just stares at him. Then she just breaks into sobs. Her body freezing in its place as she attempts to curl even further into herself.

Whether she wants it or not, Lando is crawling own to her. Pulling her body into his chest and protectively wrapping him arms around her. She did this for him too. It’s where he learned it actually. She told him that ‘sometimes when we want to make ourselves small, it’s nice to have someone much to protect us’ so they all did it for each other.

She had no mercy on her skin and he’s thankful when Max comes in with bandages.

She starts trying to flail her body and fight them as they get them on her. Lando is constantly reassuring her through the whole ordeal.

Charles is the one to suggest music. Another noise for her to focus on while they try and get her cleaned up. He throws on his recorded piano songs that she’d taken pride in watching him create.

She does relax at the sound. Reduced to just choked sobs now.

Seb had to go check on his own children. They’d woken to the sound and had worried. He’d gone to reassure them with Hanna that everything is going to be alright with their sister.

She tires herself out in Lando’s arms. No tears left to cry despite her body attempting. “I remember." She croaks.

All of them freeze. They don’t push her to continue but they attempt to get comfortable. She uncurls herself but still clings to Lando like her life depends on it.

Oscar is drowsy from having his sleep interrupted and Lando can clearly see it on his face. His head goes into Charles’ lap and the Monegasque looks down at him endearingly.

Max is across from her but holding hands with the Monegasque like he’d been doing since Charles started trying to close himself off.

“Take whatever time you need, chéri.”

She has yet to look at any of them completely. Her face still mostly hidden in Lando’s shirt. “I’m sorry.”

They all look at her confused. Then at each other for some sign that one of them know why she would apologize. Then back to her with no answers.

“Why are you apologizing?” Lando whispers into her hair.

Her nails attempt to find her skin again but Max catches her in the act. He now sets himself beside her and lets the girl play with his fingers. Charles slips off a couple of his rings for him. She’d been fascinated with them and messed with them to keep her hands busy.

Her hands did it without Max even having to guide her. Though the rings don’t fit anywhere but his pinky.

“Do you remember Max, when you took me when is was just us two. Still no idea Charles would be joining us in a month and completely clueless?”

“Yes, it was a miracle I lasted as long as I did. How could I ever forget that.” He smiles at her.

She inhales shakily. “You weren’t the first.” She confesses. All four of them now understand what she’s meaning. They’d seen the videos. Why someone would ever record that was beyond them. They planned to burn the laptop if and when she said the could.

She looks directly at him now. “I feel gross.” The empty tear ducts only leave her with small drops of liquid. “I feel violated and like I’ve lied to all of you.”

“You have done nothing wrong here. You are a victim.” Max stops her before she can get any farther. “What they did to you was wrong and unforgivable.”

“We found videos and images on his laptop, amour. We saw.”

Lando can feel her starting to hyperventilate again as she struggles to get out of his hold. “We skipped anything that had you in it. It made us all sick and we couldn’t do that to your privacy. We did listen to your fathers monologues though.”

She instantly calmed down again. Her hands once again finding the rings on Max’s fingers.

“There so much more. Everything that I am. Everything I can do.” She hold her hands up for them to see and the mesmerizing glowing lights appear once more. “I’d forgotten about this. It’s beautiful. And it’s completely mine.”

“What do you mean by completely yours?” Oscar asks with a yawn. He’s exhausted but still trying to remain present for her.

“I saw memories of those who came before me. I’m some sort of magical being I think and it’s been passed down for generations. The healing and gift of immortality is mine. That’s from my bloodline. Everything else is the work of my father in order to expand on that trait and bring my mother back.” She explains. Even though the story is tragic, she seems at piece with knowing. Like she able to understand herself better now.

“Immortality?”

“My bloody and body heal. It has the ability to give back someone’s youth. That’s why they need me back, they’re aging now.” Once again, the feeling of hands crawls around her skin. She shivers lightly and tries to keep herself grounded.

“I couldn’t control it before now. My father had to go through extensive procedures before I could be of use to them. It’s like I turned it off. But I have it now if I want it. Or if I’m unconscious, I suppose.”

“We want to burn the laptop and some of the journals if you’ll allow us.” Proposes the Brit. He’s not sure that she’ll. Say yes, it maybe the comfort of the idea will help her to stay calm.

“Can we do it now?”

Seb and Hanna meet them outside at the fire pit. The kids once again tucked away into bed.

The fire is already raging. Books and computer in hand.

“They tried to burn us. Maybe this completes the circle in a way.”

They all take turns tossing things in and watching it go up in flames.

As her family locks hands with each other, she knows everything will be okay.

It most certainly doesn’t feel like it right now and she has more fighting to do.

But they’ll be next to her, fighting with her, every step of the way.

The very idea that a cult is after them sends Max's thoughts into overdrive. He wanted to go downstairs and discuss with everybody, but a certain Australian is clinging to him like he'll die if he doesn't.

Him and Oscar sleep the most out of the five. This is what he's become used to since he started staying with them. Mornings where the Aussie are curled up into him have become something he looks forward to.

Currently, however, he knows he'll have to wake him up if they are going to be productive today.

Max makes an attempt at escape but ends up just pulling Oscar with him. He mumbles and shifts a bit before opening his own eyes.

"Morning sleepy head."

"It's too early." Disgruntled groans follow the statement.

Max lets out a breathy laugh. "I know, you can go back to sleep if you want."

"But you're leaving."

"Would you rather me carry you?"

Max didn't know what he was expecting, but walking down the stairs with a sleepy Australian on his back wasn't it.

The fact that the sight brought a smile to the faces of all his lovers made the effort worth it. They join the other three at the table. Oscar looks like he might fall asleep on the table.

“How are you feeling?” He asks toward the female. She’s playing with her food and sitting with her knees tucked into her chest.

“She hasn’t kept food down yet.” Sighs Charles who’s sitting next to her. She scrunches up her nose when he says it.

Max nods his head. The ever looming sickness strikes again. “I think we should move.”

“Again?!” Lando rolls his eyes. Max already knows how much the Brit hates moving. They’ve moves so much the last few years that he’s come to despise it.

“Well, kind of.” Max leans back in his chair and the other four eye him expectantly. “I think we should closer to Seb and Hanna but also keep the Monaco apartment. That way we’ll always have somewhere to come back too.”

“Logical idea.” Oscar says to the table. "We could do that during summer break since it's coming up soon."

"For now, we need to decide if we should stay here or go back to Monaco."

The female looks at her food and then back at them. "I love it here, but I think Hanna and Seb wouldn't appreciate us doing things in their house."

"What does that have to do with this?" Asks Lando. Innocent. Pure actual innocence.

"Because someone can only go so long."

Charles eyes to female cautiously. She'd yet to keep anything down. Reduced to dry heaving every few minutes.

"You don't have to sit on the bathroom floor with me."

"Mm true. But I want to." He runs his fingers along her spine. It’s the only comforting feeling she has to cling to at the moment. Even as she’s back to heaving up nothing, he’s still comforting her.

When it passes, Charles leans her back against his chest. “Do you think it’s your powers?”

“Honestly? No.” Charles hums. He doesn’t push her to continue. He just continues to give her a feeling to ground herself with; his fingers now finding hers as she goes to play with his rings. “It’s the memories. Knowing what actually happened to me. It doesn’t feel real but I can’t escape the feeling of hands that I didn’t want on me.”

She heaves again. Harder this time then previously. Like somehow speaking it made it real and more intense. She leans back into him. “It’s not fair, Charlie. Especially to you four. How are we supposed to live like this?” Her voice is so broken. It’s a sound that will haunt him.

“Will figure it out, Mon amour. But first I think we need to get sustenance in your body.”

“What’s the point?” She groans. “It’s just going to come back up. I would eat anything if it meant I could keep it down.”

“I think I might have an idea.” Charles smiles down at her and kisses the top of her head.

Ice cream is his idea. The boys went out to get it and were diligent in avoiding people. The thought of their trainers finding out keeping them from just walking around like normal people.

Charles had dragged Max with him while the other two stayed behind to look after the female.

"I feel like we're on a secret mission."

"And yet you're drawing attention to yourself by ducking around the corners."

"Andrea will have my head if he finds out about this."

It took them an hour to get back. and things had gotten worse when they did.

Lando greets them at the door. They are thankful the Seb and Hanna took the kids out for the day. having the house to themselves makes this a bit easier.

"Oscar is attempting to force water down her throat. It's getting worse." There is a certain anxiety in the Brits voice that Charles can't ignore.

"What do you mean worse?" Max beats him to the question.

Lando runs a hand through his curls. "She's spiked a fever, and she passes while you two were done." He bounces on the balls of his heels. "Also, she keeps muttering in her sleep and it's starting to freak me out."

The three make their way up to the female. Charles grimaces at the sight. She's panting and drenched in sweat.

Lando is right. He can see her mouth moving frantically. Her eyes flicker back and forth behind shut lids.

"She fell asleep again. I got some water in her before she did." Oscar looks at her nervously. It's the same look he has whenever she's not doing well. Now they know better than to force him away from her. Last time they tried he didn't speak to them for a day.

"I hate to say it, but we're gonna need to find a way to get fluids in her consistently." Max sighs heavily. They all know it's necessary but taking her back to the doctors comes with so many risks.

"What about a private doctor?"

"Even then it would be risky."

Max ponders. They need to think of something or risk her dying of dehydration. "We'll try the emergency room and hope they are so busy they won't pay close attention to her bloodwork. like the did the first time."

Lando didn't think pulling Oscar away from her would be so damn difficult. He's been running the opposite direction of anything medical related since he got out of the hospital.

"Osc, it's just a few minutes to they can get her set up in a room." He tries to reason with the younger. "How about we go get some air and we can talk about this."

The Aussie finally gives in, letting his arm go slack. Lando almost falls over at the sudden lack of resistance.

He jumps on the opportunity to guide him out of the building. He keeps their fingers interlocked. Lando couldn't care less if the vultures pounce on them. He desperately needs to get them away from the anxiety inducing building until they can see her.

Charles or Max would probably be batter at calming him then Lando. But Max was the one who went back with her since he knows her medical history like the back of his hand and has the excuses they planned to use if anyone got suspicious. Charles is on the phone with Seb talking about what's going on.

That leaves Lando. The most anxious out of all of them.

"Wanna talk about what's going on in your head?" They continue walking, hopefully the air will do them both good even if it's a parking lot.

"It's hard to explain." Oscar admits. "It was terrible being drugged out of consciousness. And I thought I was dreaming, but she came to check on me. She bargained for my safety." Lando can feel Oscar's hands starting to relax a bit. He's not fighting so hard anymore. "Then, when we started to try and make our way out, she saved me again. She was exhausted and I had to carry her at one point but it was so cold and damp and dark. I just never want to leave her like that again."

Lando thinks back to when he stumbled across them. How Oscar kicked and screamed at them, the females body in his protective grip. Somehow, they'd kept each other alive, and now Oscar feels the effects of the trauma that has bonded them together.

Lando stops them next to a relatively secluded part of the lot. He spins around and places his hands on either side of Oscar's face. "I promise you that we're never going to let that happen again. We're going to figure this out. What they did to you both is not something I'll say I understand, but I hear you. You and her are safe, and we're going to do our best to keep it that way."

Seb stands in the doorway with Max and Charles. His daughter now, thankfully, awake with a broken fever. The unfortunate part is that there are about four doctors standing around her asking her questions.

They'd been very specific with the Max. Mainly because the Dutch refused to let them near her when they said there were irregularities in her DNA.

They won't do anything without consent.

Yet the boys are still standing guard. Max's eyes haven't left her body, and Charles is trying to keep him from slamming the door open and kicking all of them out of the room.

The doctors step away from and exit the room. Seb grabs Max's arm in an attempt to keep him stationary.

The interaction certainly doesn’t look like much. Yet Seb can see the way she tries to curl herself farther away from them. They don’t advance, just continue talking. He can’t help but admire the respect they have for the traumatized girl.

Three of the doctors nod at them and walk away. The fourth closes the door behind him and steps in front of sebastian.

"We're going to discharge her. We think it was a psychological response to something, but otherwise, she should be okay to leave."

Seb thanks the man. His chest is relieved of the weight sitting on it since he'd gotten the call.

They didn't go back to Monaco. Instead, they flew directly to Hungary. It was her request since she wasn't sure she could stomach multiple trips. It was only a few days earlier than they needed to be there.

Max had gotten his own hotel room this time. The place is massive and luxurious. It's not like it's shocking or that she's not used to it by now. Her mind just recalls a time when her and Max were in a barely standard sized room eating comfort food while avoiding Brad.

"I don't know you, but I am exhausted." Lando let's out a large yawn to further prove his point.

Max drops his bags and turns to face the group. "That's a shame. Guess you won't get to join us then." A playful smirk tugs on his lips. She's not exactly sure what the plans are, but with the cheeky glint in the Dutchmans eye she knows they are in for a long night.

Next ->

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joelswritingmistress · 4 months

Text

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 21

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible.

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader

“I want you to come somewhere with me in a few weekends.” Dr. Miller ducked under the water beside me and emerged a few seconds later.

I dragged my toes along the small tiles on the bottom of the pool. “Where?”

“It's a surprise.” He scrunched his nose and squinted his eyes as he grinned. Despite our age gap there were times he looked so boyish - like right now.

I made a face back at him. “Everything’s a secret. You gotta give me this one.” I raised my eyebrows and swished my arms around.

Dr. Miller reached for my hands and pulled me toward the deep end like we did in the past. When my hands rested on his shoulders and I began to kick my feet, he gave in.

“Over the long weekend in February my sister is getting married. Come with me. Be my.. plus one.”

“Her wedding.” I smiled and then laughed. “She doesn't even know me.”

“We can change that.”

“What if she doesn't like me?”

Dr. Miller grinned. “My sister likes everyone who I like. She trusts my judge of character.”

“I’d love to go. I just.. that's a big night for your sister. I don't want to ruin it.”

He chuckled again. “How could you ruin it? Just don't drink too much and vomit on her dress and I think she'll be just fine.”

I snickered and took a deep breath, continuing to kick. “Are you sure?”

“If you don't want to go, I understand. I just-”

“I do.” I cut him off before he could continue. “I want to go.”

“Good.” He pecked my lips and continued to swim backwards until we reached the other side. “Then it's a date.”

“Where is it?”

“At the Stowe Ski Resort in Vermont.”

“I can't ski,” I said with a chuckle.

Dr. Miller smiled wide. “Well, you can't swim either, yet here we are.” He let his eyebrows rise and fall and I chuckled.

“Good point.” I slicked back his hair and planted a kiss on his lips. “Okay.. as long as it's okay with your sister.. I'll go.”

Two weekends later, Dr. Miller and I were walking hand-in-hand up the pebbly walkway of Red Maple Vineyard. I was nervous. Dr. Miller’s sister seemed to mean the world to him. Meeting her for the first time had me on pins and needles.

What if she doesn't like me? I kept asking myself that question over and over. Would our age gap bother her?

The two of us passed by the main doors to the establishment and headed to a back patio. It was littered with firepits, each one surrounded by a fake, see-through igloo. Patrons dressed in winter hats and scarves, all toting wine glasses and talking with smiles inside of them.

When Dr. Miller grinned and gave a wave, my stomach knotted up. At the far, left corner of the patio a woman rose to her feet with the same friendly wave. She was a beautiful woman, with shortly cropped brown hair and high cheekbones. Jamie Lee Curtis in the flesh. The salt-and-pepper haired man who was seated beside her rose to his feet in preparation to greet us.

Moment of truth. I knew I needed to make a good impression.

“My favorite brother,” Carol greeted, pulling Dr. Miller I'm for a hug.

“Your only brother,” he added with a laugh, kissing her on the cheek.

“Still my favorite.” She nudged him and looked to me.

“Hi.” I smiled wide and extended a hand in Carol's direction. “I'm (Y/N). It's so nice to meet you.”

“Carol Miller,” she smiled and side-glanced her beau. “Soon to be Brennan.”

“Not soon enough.” The man exchanged a friendly handshake with Joel, and then switched his gaze to me. “Will Brennan.”

“Nice to meet you.” I then added, “Congratulations, by the way.” My eyes danced from Carol to Will and back to Carol.

“Thank you,” they said in unison, before inviting us to sit around the firepit with them.

Dr. Miller placed a hand on my lower back and extended his arm to allow me into the igloo a step ahead of him. I ducked under and sat down between him and his sister.

“We picked up a bottle of Chardonnay and Merlot,” Carol explained. “Preference?” She looked at me and reached for an empty glass. “Or we could grab a bottle of something else.”

“Oh, thank you. Um.. I’m more of a white wine girl.”

“Me, too.” Carol reached for the Chardonnay and poured me a glass before offering the same to her brother, who went with the Merlot.

“So,” Carol eyed the two of us, “How did you two meet?”

The question that made me freeze. I had only been asked one another time, and that by Tori. I assumed Dr. Miller would be giving his sister the same one because we hadn't talked about another faux-scenario.

“We met at the university,” Dr. Miller said.

“Oh,” Carol glanced to meet as she brought the glass of Chardonnay to her lips. “Do you work there, too?”

“I work at the board of education in Windham,” I explained, feeling my cheeks redden. “I’m actually just taking two courses at night. Chipping away at my Masters.”

“Oh, so this is a forbidden romance.” Carol said, motioning between the two of us with the hand she held her wine glass with. “Got it.” Her delivery was so dry I wasn't sure if she was kidding, disapproving or otherwise. I wondered what she would think of me actually being in his class.

Dr. Miller grinned at his sister who finally cracked a smile and gave a wink.

“I'm teasing,” she added. “You're both grown adults.”

Phew.

“I mean, she can't be one to judge,” Will leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “She fell for her boss.”

Carol glanced over at him and they shared a smile-turned-laugh.

“And yet, I still haven't gotten a raise.”

“I thought the diamond ring might've evened that out.”

I smiled to myself at their playful interaction. “How long have you been together?”

Carol rested a hand on his knee. “Almost three years.”

“Carol is the Dean of students at a private high school not far from here,” Dr. Miller informed me.

“Hillcrest Academy,” Carol explained. “And Will is the headmaster.”

“Nepotism,” Dr. Miller mumbled into his wine glass before taking a sip, making Will laugh and Carol roll her eyes.

“Fortunately for us, private schools don't have the same rules as most public schools do. One of us would probably have to leave to teach in another building, but Hillcrest doesn't have a strong nepotism policy. I just can't be the one to directly evaluate her performance.”

“Okay, enough work stuff,” Carol shushed him and leaned back in her chair to cross one leg over the other. “Let's get a little drunk and get to know each other.” She glanced at me with a look like, ‘what do you say'?

“Here, here.” Will raised his glass.

“Sounds good to me.” I brought my glass to the middle and then Dr. Miller and Carol did the same. We alternated tapping our glasses together and got the evening underway.

I was secretly hoping the truth would come out about Dr. Miller’s castle and the money. I was tempted to ask after a few glasses of wine, but I kept my mouth shut. The night ended up full of laughs and old, embarrassing stories. The mood was light, and talking to Carol and Will felt so organic that I certainly wasn't about to spoil it with intrusive questions.

“So,” Carol cleared her throat, swirling the wine that neared the bottom of the glass. The men were having their own conversation so her question was directed at me. “Do you want kids in the future?” Her question drew a quick glance from Dr. Miller and I knew he was fully paying attention despite his interaction with Will.

“Oh, well, eventually.. probably.” I chuckled and sipped from my own glass of wine. “I'm not totally there yet.”

“You've got time.” She tapped my knee and then fanned herself. “These igloos get warm.”

“That's the wine, honey.” Will placed a hand on the back of her neck and gave a squeeze.

Carol removed a white scarf she had on over a blue sweater. “So, Joel says you'll be attending our wedding next month.”

I raised my eyebrows and looked to Dr. Miller, then back to Carol. “If it's okay with you. I mean..”

“She's coming.” He draped an arm around my shoulders and winked, making me look down with a smile and back up.

I looked at Carol. “I'll be there.”

“Well, upon first impressions,” Carol glanced at Dr. Miller and then to me. “I'd love to have you as my brother’s plus one.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Miller looked at me. “You passed the Carol test.”

“Even I flunked the first time,” Will added, making everyone laugh.

I felt like I was flying when we left the vineyard that night. Things had gone so well. When we exchanged hugs and finally went to our separate cars, I turned to Dr. Miller and kissed him on the cheek.

“Carol likes you,” he said, smiling back.

“She's great,” I gushed, “And Will seems really nice. They seem happy.”

Dr. Miller put his first two fingers beneath my chin. I loved when he did that. He stared at me for a few seconds before leaning in and touching his lips to mine. “Let's go home.”

Home.

I sighed contently, eager to snuggle under the fluffy down comforter in Dr. Miller's bed. I felt completely at ease after being worried about the evening prior to going out. I agreed. “Let's go home.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

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romanarose · 1 month

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If You Wanna be Wild: Chapter 7

Co-written with @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction my beloved Fen, who I could not do this without. Thank you for being my emotional sounding board, my dear friend, my wonderful cowriter and helpful beta reader. I adore you.

Javier Peña x Latina!sex worker!informant!Reader x Santiago Garcia

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Summary: Everything falls apart and evryone is alone.

Content and warnings for whole fic, not chapter by chapter unless something is added: Sex work, drug trade, some drug use/pressured used, sex workers and the mistreatment/stigma surrounding them specifically in the 70’s (my blog is sex worker positive) but ima put potential dub con depending how you look at it as a sex worker who works with dangerous men, some action surrounding reader and the guys and the drug trade, SMUT HEAVY, corruption kink (were corrupting santi here, he’s young, 25), no loss of virginity tho, threesomes, some slight m/m smut but that’s not the focus here, but as you know this blog is an lgbt blog so I’m always open to gay shit. Talk of war and some PTSD but I won't be going a whole lot into it. Covert/emotional incest in the past, Santi's mommy issues, m/m dynamics, internalized bi/homophobia

Reader speaks Spanish and has hair. I've decided Candy is just latina bc she's a sex worker in Colombia so this is what I'm doing. Reader also has curly hair and dark skin.

ADDITIONAL WARNINGS!:mentions of rape an violence, what happened to Helena, smut, repressed feelings, angst.

Almost everything was written by Fen <3

2.7k words

Support writers! Reblog and comment!

**************

There was no making up. There was no Javi bringing Santi food as an apology, there was no talking.

When Santi walked into the office on Monday, he saw the fucking desks rearranged, Javier’s and Santi’s on other sides of the room instead of pushed face to face. Santi quickly rushed to the bathroom where he panic vomited and had an anxiety attack, resulting in him being 45 minutes late. Javi didn’t say anything about it.

Where Santi couldn’t eat, Javi couldn’t stop eating, munching down food and taking frequent trips to the vending machine. His doctor was going to kill him. Santi could barely function, even coming in late or leaving early which was a cardinal sin in his book. Still, none of it stopped him from seeing Candy. Occasionally Candy asked about him because all month Javi hadn’t been to see her either. Santi couldn’t get much answer either.

They worked, but mostly separately. Javi had even been trying to find somewhere else to work, but there weren’t exactly free rooms in the precinct. They talked occasionally but only about Lorea… making Santi desperately lonely. He had his family and he loved his tias, but they weren’t Javi. It was the day of the rally for the beatification of Laura Montoya, which forced them to be in close proximity as they dressed in plain clothes and scouted the area for any sign of the Lorea family. Not wanting to look too much like officers on alert, Santi tried making conversation, none of which was working with Javi, only getting few word answers.

The boy was going to drive him absolutely batshit insane if he didn’t stop talking. It was bad enough he kept asking. ‘Should we get food’ or ‘it’s nice out today’, but his voice mixed with the crowds and noise and music and chatter or the rally, people shouting about whoever it was they were here for, politicians trying to stop them and constantly flashbacks of that night of the ball… Then Santi had to go and say

“She misses you.”

“You mentioned her name one more fucking time and I’ll-”

“You’ll fucking what?” Santi snapped, his nerves had twisted, hardened suddenly by rage.

His anger took Javi by surprise, he’d never heard him speak like that to anyone let alone him.

Santi took his pause as indignation. “I mentioned Candy once. Once. And that’s only because you haven’t seen her, or called her or anything!” He hissed. “She’s worried about you actually, she-”

It was Javi’s turn to snap.

He grabbed the younger man by the back of his collar and pulled him into a side alley, using his own momentum against him and slamming him up against the brick wall.

Sant let out a little huff of air as his back collided, gritting his jaw as pain raced along his back.

The action had been forceful, but not enough to cause discomfort for most people. However, a rough, uneven lump of mortar had poked oddly against the scar at the nape of his neck, sending a tingle down his back.

Javi rammed the heel of his hand into the wall next to Santi’s head, using his height to his full advantage as he leaned over him like he was interrogating a suspect instead of a colleague. A friend.

Santi breathed hard, his frown pinching his eyebrows together, and Javi would say he even looked cute if he wasn’t so bloody annoying, so obsessed with getting under his skin. Unable to let anything go, constantly digging at him in his self-righteous attitude, just needing to push, and push, and push, and…

Cute. The thought caught him off guard. When had he started to think of Santiago as cute?

“What the fuck are you doing Peña?” He growled, puffing his chest out, but not pushing back.

Javi shook his head slightly, trying to break his racing mind, trying to get back to reality. “Candy, look, you can’t just-”

“She’s an adult Javi, I can-”

“You’re going to get her killed!” His voice raised at the end, louder and more desperate than he had intended, with just the slightest waver. He hoped Santi didn’t hear it, but he probably did. Nothing got past him. “Do you understand?” Santi glared at him, the muscles in his jaw flexing. Those stupid large doe eyes looking painfully dark and enticing. “You’re flaunting her. Taking her to the ball and, and-”

Santi scoffed. “That’s none of your business, I asked her, I-”

“You’re gonna get her gutted and dumped on the side of the road!” Javier screamed, haunting flashbacks to Helena’s beaten and raped body, wrapping his coat around her and having to carry her out, not sure if she was dying or not. “You know how easy it would be for Lorea to do something? This isn’t even a put two and two together situation, Pope, it’s you waving a four right in his fucking face! And what do you think is gonna happen when he takes her, huh? When he beats her and rapes her an tortures her to get information on YOU!”

Santi swallows, his face still hard, but that little bob of his Adam’s apple draws Javier’s eye, but he doesn't respond. Javier lowers his voice, fist still gripping Santi’s jacket.

“She’s not gonna give you up, she’s not gonna help them hurt you. She’s gonna end up dead. You’re gonna…” He closed his eyes for a moment, took a small breath. It was easier not to look at him, not to have to stare at his soft eyes and plump lips. “You’re gonna end up dead too, Pope. I can’t… I’ve seen it, okay?”

Javier screwed up his face, opening his eyes so that he could look at Santi man to man. Implore him to see reason.

“I’m not telling you to stop seeing her, I’m just saying.... I’ve seen shit happen to girls in her line of work. To officers like you that are still wet behind the ears to this kind of thing-” The second it was out of his mouth, he knew he’d made a mistake.

“I’m not a fucking child, Peña.” Santi hissed, pressing forward and getting up in Javier’s face. “I know that’s what everyone at the station seems to think and all their little Virgin Maria mierda. I don’t care. I don’t give a fuck if all they see is that.” He pushes firmly on Javier’s chest, almost smacking as he punctuates his sentence. “But I thought you’d know better! I was black ops special agent, I spend years of my life in almost every goddamn continent doing retcon, assassinations, covert operations and rescuing women and children and getting SHOT! I’m not-”

“I’m not saying you’re a child-”

“You are! You are!” Santiago growls, smacking Javi’s chest repeatedly. He doesn’t care that he does sound like a child in that moment, arguing relentlessly on semantics. His emotions are bubbling over and muddying his head. “You’re saying that you know best. That your word is law. Despite all you do to endanger Candy!”

“I do n-”

“You do! You think you’re above it all, you’re just as bad, you pretend to care but you-”

“Shut your fucking mouth, Garcia!”

“Make me!”

He doesn’t think.

There’s always times he doesn’t think. When he gets too lost in whatever emotion he’s letting overwhelm him. Sometimes rage. Sometimes guilt. Usually negative either way. That’s where Santi is a good partner, keeping a cool and level head while Javi plays bad cop.

Usually ends up with him throwing a punch, not a kiss.

Santi knew ‘make me’ was childish. Knew it was playground nonsense reserved for kids still in single digits. But if everyone was going to keep calling him that, keep pretending that he wasn’t the only actual goddamned adult in the room then-

Then…

Javier’s lips on his steal his breath away, rob him of every thought that has ever run through his mind. And, for once, it’s blissfully quiet. The anxieties pushed away for the peace of a lover's kiss.

Javi presses closer, pushing Santiago further into the wall and cupping his face with his warm hand as he kisses him, body to body, warmth to warmth. Darting out his tongue to just trace Santi’s bottom lip and groans when he parts them immediately, no hesitation, and lets him lick into his mouth.

The angle’s a little awkward, Javier’s body trapping Santi’s hand between their chests. But Santiago’s fingers curl into his shirt, pulling him closer as his kisses leave him breathless and desperate for more.

Javier’s leg bumps into his and Santi moves a step, moaning softly and then whining as his thigh presses against his half hard cock, a sharp spike of pleasure running up his spine and-

His thoughts all come crashing down. What the fuck, what the fuck was he doing? His mother’s voice rang in his head, screaming his name.

He could get arrested for this, thrown in jail, worse. He was going to burn in hell.

Santi pulled back quickly, disentangling himself from Javier so quickly that both men nearly fell. He turned, not giving the older man a second look, and ran out of the alley into the crowded street.

He didn’t even hear Javier call his name.

“Are you okay, baby?” You asked, your naked body covering Santiago while giving him tender kisses, scooting yourself up and down his cock. You loved to tease him, get him whimpering and watch as all those troublesome thoughts left his pretty little head. He was too pretty to be so worried all the time.

He’d been stressed on and off about Javi, occasionally bringing it up, but you think he stopped when he realized it upset you. You were really good at pretending to care when old professors droned on and on about academic works or when men talked about themselves or complained about their wives and mothers again and again and again. You could’ve faked not being upset when Santi, but you didn’t fake anything with him. Javi’s absence hurt your feelings. You were worried about him, and you were angry at him for abandoning you and hurting Santi. For continuing to hurt his feelings. Bitch.

But honestly… you just miss him. A lot. It would take more than a poster to patch this, he’d have to make things right with Santi too, but you’d forgive him. You just wanted him back, and you wanted Santi happy again. He was already thin enough, and as your body slid up and down the sweaty length of him, you could feel he’d lost weight.

Santi moaned loudly, gripping onto your hips as you bounced on his length, his eyes rolling back in his head as your heat engulfs him over and over. Pulling him deeper and deeper.

The fat tip of his cock presses deliriously, perfectly rubbing over your walls with every slick slide. Stretching you so wonderfully like he was made for you. He was, he really, really was. Something was bothering him today, and he was finding solace in you. You were happy to give it to him. Pushing all other thoughts out of your head.

He whines, babbling nonsensically with his eyes closed, “please, please, please,” He rocks up against you, letting his body override his brain as you fuck him into the mattress. “Please, gonna come, please, need you so much,” he gasps, almost sobbing from pleasure.

You stroke his cheek and pick up your pace, even if he hasn’t said you could tell how close he was. The way his stomach muscles tense, how his eyes are screwed shut and head thrown back into the pillow, “it’s okay, it’s okay, you can come, give it all to me.”

He shakes his head rapidly, “no, please,” he moans, “need you, need mommy to come, please.”

His whines change in pitch, the little sounds getting higher and higher as he reaches the point of no return. His mouth hangs open, his skin flushed and sweaty, and heat floods to your core.

You brace yourself with your left hand on his leg behind you as you ride him, leaning back ever so slightly to change the angle just enough that he continuously hits perfectly inside, stretching you to your limit.

Santi sobs, the position change sending a buzz up his spine, pressing on the thick length of his cock to a surprisingly maddening degree. His whole body pulsed, stealing the air from his lungs.

He bucks up once, his eyes fluttering open in surprise as he comes, his length pulsating. He empties himself deep inside you, his orgasm stretching onwards and overtaking every possible thought.

You smile as you watch him, happy to see him so blissed out. You ride him throughout his high, trying to prolong his sensations as long as possible. He deserved it.

He sighs, shivering with aftershocks as he comes back to himself and looks up at you. You open your mouth to speak, the words on the tip of your tongue.

Santi grabs you by the hips, urging you up and off him and pulling your aching pussy onto his face. He lets out a small groan at the mess he made, his cum leaking out of your folds before he runs the tip of his tongue through them.

You bite back a moan, grabbing onto his hair for stability as his mustache brushes against your clit.

His mouth feels like heaven as he lick and swirls around your clit, his movements soft but certain, quickly pushing you towards your peak.

Instinctively you buck your hips, grinding down on his mouth to chase your high. He rocks you against him, urging you tp move and fuck his eager tongue.

“Santi…” you whine as you come hard against him, pulling fiercely on his hair.

He continues licking, moaning against you as he drinks down every drop of your release.

You breathe heavily, boneless for a moment before slowly moving away to lay down next to him.

He pouts a little as you settle. “I wasn’t finished.” He smiles cheekily, your cum shining all over the bottom half of his face,

You giggle, and gently swat his arm and cuddle up next to him. Santi didn’t need instruction, scooting his back to your chest. In your arms, where he belonged. You loved being like this with him, but somehow it always felt like something was missing. You loved when Javi used to hold you, protecting you with a strong arm around your body, but again, you felt like something was missing, in your arms this time instead of around you.

You kiss the scar on his spine. “Good boy, Santito.”

It happened so fast. Santi teanses and you barely have a second to register how he turns to you, his eyes widen in panic, his skin turning ashen before he’s up, out of bed and pulling on his clothes so fast that it shouldn’t have been possible. What the fuck? Did you do something wrong?

“Santi?” you start, trying to keep your voice soft but unable to hide the fear that has overcome your words.Why is he leaving? What did you do wrong? Did you mess up things with Santi too, the one good thing left? You barely sit up before he’s shoving a handful of dollars at you, practically just throwing them in your direction and the bed.

“Here.” His voice is quiet, distant. Like he’s not really there. A stark comparison to his panicked, edgy movements. He doesn’t even bother tying his shoes, simply shoving his feet inside them and stumbling towards the door.

“Wait, Sant-”

He slams the door on his way out.

Leaving your bed cold, and you alone.

It was supposed to be sex, talking. Build a nice repour. That was it. You were good at it too, making old ugly men think you were infatuated, but yourself detached from even the most charming and attractive. Something happened with Javi and Santi, a line that became blurred, friendship and genuine attraction and care. Now they were gone.

You hate yourself for how hard you cry.

***************

thank you so much to everyone whose stuck around while i sort my SHIT OUT (its never ending)

If you like me writing javi, i wrote a drable today too, and if you wanna see a totally insane version of santi, come to rooms on fire!

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fairlyaltheticquails · 10 months

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imagine ford’s first few days of being back and he’s surprised to learn you still live in gravity falls when the kids mention you. he eventually asks if you’re married, trying to act casual about it (and failing)

hes my little awkward boy (hes 70)

words: 687

this is kinda poopoo but whatever

“Hey, I know them!” Dipper exclaims, picking up the framed photo from the desk.

The picture’s old, several decades old at least, but it's one of Ford's favorites. He specifically tracked down where Stanley had hid it within a day of coming back, restoring it to its rightful position in the lab. Fiddleford had set up the camera after a particularly special breakthrough, when everyone was still riding the high, smiling and laughing like little kids. What gets Ford is the way you are looking at him.

Clearly unaware of the photo being taken, you look at the side of his face, stars in your eyes with a wide grin. Fidds had silently given him the photo, a knowing look on his face.Truth be told, Ford has always liked you. You're smart, you laugh at his bad nerd jokes, you're kind (even when the receipt doesn't deserve it), and you're pretty easy on the eyes. When he'd lost you, he knew if he'd ever make it back, you'd surely have someone else, somewhere better than Gravity Falls.

This is why Dipper's comment makes him drop and completely shatter the vial he was holding. Ford turns briskly to Dipper, observing him closely for any sign of his knowledge.

“What do you mean? How?” It wouldn't surprise him if Bill had placed some false memory of you in Dipper's head just to torment him, knowing that Ford would want to try and track you down if he could.

“Oh. They helped Mabel and I out earlier this summer when we, uh,, ran into some not so friendly ghosts. I've seen ‘em around town too.” Dipper says casually, unnerved by his grunkles strange state and reaction. “How do YOU know them?” he prys.

“We knew each other long ago, It doesn't matter.” Ford is unsurprised to hear you still poke your head into the strange natures of the town, It's in your nature as is helping others in a bad way. He imagines you fighting off ghosts like the 80s movies Stanley made him watch once he'd returned. His chest warms with something pleasant, before dropping like a stone. It's been thirty years. If you'd even made the connection to him from the kids, chances are you've long since moved on from your research days with him. Surely you've moved onto better people than him. “Have you, um, seen them around with… anyone?”

Dippers face changes to one of confusion. “Like who? Wait, Could they be working with Bill? I should've paid closer attention to them, they've been right under my nose, I…” Dipper spirals, panic increasing as his word vomit flows. Ford cuts him off.

“I meant a… partner. Spouse?” Ford adds, embarrassed. He isn't thirteen anymore, he has no need to be prying into his crushes from thirty years ago. His hand rubs the back of his neck, and he intends to tell Dipper to just forget it when Dipper thoughtfully hums.

“Nope, don't think so. Or at least, not that I've noticed,”. Dipper's tone and expression are unnervingly neutral, not betraying his thoughts on this awkward line of questioning.Dipper ends the conversation there, placated by the information given, placing the photo back in its spot and returning to the task Ford had assigned him.

Ford feels a bit lighter that afternoon and has to force down the smile trying to work its way up. Mabel had offered to teach Ford all about the world of smartphones, and Stanley might have a phonebook lying around here somewhere. Ford resolves himself to having to hold off on looking until after the rift has been resealed, when he knows it will be more safe to contact you. He goes to bed that night imagining what you may look like now. If you still have the same glimmer in your eyes, or if you still do your hair the same. If you still pick at your sweaters, or smudge the ink everytime you write.

bonus: dipper totally knew what ford was hinting at and when he relayed the conversation to mabel that night, she went into matchmaker mabel mode setting up an "accidental" meeting, where you see each other for the first time since ford got back

#ford pines #ford pines x reader #my writing #ask answered #i had a bigger plan for this but lost motivation halfway through :{

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heavyhitterheaux · 1 year

Text

Nap Date

AN: sleepy girls make the best girlfriends 🤭🤭

Synopsis: Jack wants to spend more time with you, but you always seem to be sleeping

Pairing: Jack Harlow x Reader

Jack Harlow Masterlist

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

The relationship between you and Jack had been going on for almost a year and a half or so and you were head over heels for him. Once you saw those blue eyes and curly hair, that was all she wrote.

His second album had come out recently so it was the norm for him to be constantly traveling from one place to another while still trying to do his best to call you and make sure that you were okay.

You had just recently started a new nursing job on night shift in the pediatric emergency department switching from working with adults.

Nursing wasn’t new to you, but working with children along with their parents was.

No one could make sense of why you seem to be more tired than usual since you had always worked night shift and had now started to spend most of your free time sleeping.

Maybe it was the switch between different hospitals or the population that you were working with.

Either way, if you weren’t sleeping or with Jack or your friends, you were somewhere bundled up in a blanket burrito watching your multiple streaming services that you would more than likely fall asleep on.

Jack had a tiny break coming up, only about two days or so and made it his mission to spend those two days with you before hopping from city to city again.

He already knew that you had those days off since you always send him a copy of your work schedule just so he can know what days to work around if he wanted to plan something for the two of you and vice versa.

It was around 9 in the morning when Jack had sent his first text of the day to you.

Smush- Good morning baby girl, how was work last night?

You- A baby was projectile vomiting all over the emergency department waiting room and I of course was assigned to take care of the baby and then it happened again and went down my scrub top. I feel like I will be scrubbing under my boobs for the next week and a half because I know I’m clean but I still feel disgusting. Other than that, great. How are you, baby?

Smush- 😲😲😲😲

You- I’m fine, it’s fine, everythings fine

Smush- Baby that does NOT sound like everythings fine

You- But it is. I actually got to eat my hot cheetos for lunch last night while I had a parent scream at me that I wasn’t doing anything for their kid and telling them what was going on. Ma’am your kid’s arm is basically in the shape of a circle. I think it’s broken, babe. Besides, the doctor tells you that, not me. And I continued to eat my cheetos because I had already given him pain medicine. Now I’m eating ice cream in bed contemplating why I decided to be a nurse.

Smush- I… umm…. Because you wanted to help people babe. And you only ate hot cheetos? I thought we talked about this. You’re always going to have your good days and bad days. I’m always going to be here to listen to you rant about it. I just wanted to spend some time with you this weekend because I know you don’t work and I have a few days off.

You-......

Smush- mamas?

You-……

No response

Smush- Baby? Did you fall asleep that fast?

Smush- I hope you didn’t fall asleep with the ice cream in the bed like you did last time and woke up with it melted everywhere. You were sticky for like 2 days even after multiple showers.

Smush- I mean if I was there I would have licked it off of you, but….

Smush- I’ll call you later, baby. Sleep well. I love you.

It was around 4 pm when Jack had finally gotten a response from you.

You- SHIT

You- BABY! I’M SORRY! I’M AWAKE!

Smush- It’s okay mamas lol I know you were tired. Did you sleep okay?

You- Yes! But I woke up covered in cookies and cream ice cream again

Smush- BABY! I told you not to fall asleep in bed while eating ice cream!

You- It only got on my arm! So we’re good!

Smush- So, as I was saying earlier. Date this weekend?

You- PLEASE! I MISS YOU!

Smush- I miss you too mamas. I’ll plan everything out and all you have to do is pick out an outfit.

You- Do I dress like a whore, classy, or casual?

Smush- Uhh run that first one by me again?

You- Okay classy it is and for now I have washed the ice cream off my arm and now I have to get ready for work. I’ll try to facetime you on my break if a kid or a parent isn’t screaming at me.

Smush- I hope you have a better shift tonight and I can’t wait to see your pretty face later

You- Thank you smush

It was around 3 in the morning when Jack heard his phone ring and it didn’t matter since he was awake. He knew it was you and quickly answered.

Jack saw your face come into view and it looked like you were in a supply closet.

“Uh, babe?”

“THESE PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO KILL ME!”

“What happened?”

“They floated me to the adult emergency department! I have one person who keeps jumping out of bed with a broken hip I don’t know how the fuck he is managing to do that, another one with a gunshot wound who probably needs a chest tube, another one who is 102 and still a got damn full code who is having breathing AND cardiac issues and I am PRAYING that they don’t code because I can’t tonight. I CAN’T. Anyway, you okay, baby? Oh shit. It’s three. Did I wake you up? I’m sorry if I did. I just miss you and wanted to hear your voice.”

“Wait, baby that was a lot and we need to unpack it.”

“No we don’t. They’re all alive. Moving onto more important things, the fact that I miss my boyfriend and I think I have actual shit on my new shoes. Welp looks like I have to throw these away now.”

“Umm, babe, maybe I need to take off a few more days and stay with you because you… sound um…?”

“Stressed?”

Jack simply nodded his head.

“Yeah, just a little bit, but I’ll get through it.”

“Baby, you are hiding in the supply closet.”

“They don’t need to know that. I haven’t peed since I left the house. Oh. Maybe I should go when I get off the phone with you. Anyway, tell me about our date so I can….”

“Code blue room 24. Code blue room 24.”

“FUCK! THAT GOT DAMN 102 YEAR OLD! SHIT! BABY I’LL CALL YOU BACK! FUCK I HAVE TO PEE GOT DAMN IT! JACK, I LOVE YOU. GOTTA GO.”

You immediately ended the facetime call and all Jack did was let out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding. He wanted to do something nice for you since it seemed like lately you weren’t having the best shifts at work.

He wasn’t that far from you and planned to hopefully surprise you and be at your house when you got off from work in a few hours.

After your shift, you sat in the parking lot for an hour just staring off into space before starting to make your way back home.

Once you pulled up, you made your way to the front door, but not before taking your shoes and throwing them in the trash can by the end of the driveway. You were surprised to hear the television on since you remembered turning it off when you left. You also smelled food and was immediately taken aback.

“Am I in the right house?” You whispered to yourself, but not before reaching into your pocket and grabbing a saline flush.

“And what the fuck am I supposed to do with that?” You stuck it back into your pocket, but not before grabbing your baseball bat that was perched near the door.

You tried to make your footsteps as quiet as possible as you approached the kitchen, but because it was an old house, it didn’t quite work out that way.

You then came into the kitchen to see Jack’s back turned to you while he was in front of the stove.

“Baby, put the bat down. And I expected you over an hour ago.”

And that was when the waterworks started.

Upon hearing this, Jack turned around and made his way over to you to try and embrace you, but you immediately backed up.

“Baby! Don’t cry!”

“I have other people’s bodily fluids on me. Let me take a shower and then you can hug me. And I still have to pee and I missed you and oh my fucking shit you’re here. Did I tell you I love you already?” All the while tears are streaming down your face.

“I love you too. I’ll go run your shower for you, come on mamas.”

You followed Jack up the steps while you were still crying and Jack was doing his best to calm you down.

After you showered and moisturized your body, you threw on your Louisville bonnet that Jack had gifted you last Christmas along with a matching shirt and shorts.

You made your way back downstairs and upon hearing you, Jack opened his arms and you ran full speed to jump into them.

“I needed this, thank you, thank you, thank you. I know you’re busy and I hope that I didn’t take you away from anything.” You said as Jack soothingly rubbed your back and kissed your forehead.

“You’re welcome, but there is no need to thank me. I knew my girl needed me. Now I got food for you too or did you just want to go to sleep?”

“What are we eating?”

“Stuffed french toast.”

“Baby, you didn’t cook that, did you?” You asked because the last thing you wanted to do was get food poisoning. One of Jack’s many talents did not include cooking.

“Um, let’s just say that the smoke alarm kept going off so I ordered it instead.”

“Fine by me.”

It was now Saturday and that meant date night for the two of you. You were already dressed and sitting on the couch surprisingly waiting on Jack. You had been excited ever since you had woken up and couldn’t wait to see what he had planned for the two of you.

He had been out the majority of the day getting things for the two of you and had just gotten back in the house about twenty minutes ago.

“How is he going to tell me to be ready by eight, but his ass isn’t even ready?” You muttered to yourself while scrolling on your phone on instagram. Soon your eyes started to get heavy and the phone was long forgotten.

Jack came down the steps twenty minutes later to see you knocked out on the couch with your phone on the floor and he couldn’t help but laugh to himself.

He decided that you two could have a nap date for one day and could go out tomorrow not wanting to wake you up since he knew that this week had been exhausting for you.

Once upstairs, he slipped off your Louboutin heels, put on your pajamas and covered your hair and got comfortable himself. He laid down next to you and drifted off to sleep.

It was midnight when you woke up startled.

You woke up and looked down to see that Jack had his arms wrapped around you and you were thoroughly confused.

“Oh, SHIT! BABY!” You exclaimed while shaking Jack awake and all you got was a groan.

“What, baby?”

“DID I FALL ASLEEP ON OUR DATE?!”

“Mamas, we didn’t even make it out of the house. You fell asleep on the couch and I brought you upstairs.”

“Damn it, I’m sorry I know you…”

Jack immediately cut you off.

“All that I have planned can be moved to tomorrow. And besides, technically we still had a date.”

“Huh?”

“It was a nap date because we both took naps since we’re exhausted. I still call that a win. Get to catch up on sleep while laying next to my sleepy girlfriend.”

“Oh well, I guess you’re right.”

“Now let’s continue our date so that we can actually go outside on our date tomorrow.” Jack said while kissing you and bringing you closer to him.

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