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sweetiecutie · 6 months

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🖤Fuck or Die part 2🖤

Part 1

Pairing: slasher! König x fem! Reader

Warnings: Dead Dove Do Not Eat, mdni, smut, non con so rape, violence, obsession, drugging, face-slapping and nose bleeding, choking, kidnapping, mention of murder. If you feel triggered by any of these warnings - just scroll past!

A/n: this took me way longer than I expected but yay, I finally wrote the second part!!! Also absolutely not me incorporating a quote from the movie bc I think it’s impossibly hot🤭

Reading part 1 is recommended for understanding the plot

Your life will never be the same. That damned evening changed you, everything around you, splitting your life into before and after.

Your memories of next few days after the murder were a sheer blur of events and conversations - numerous interrogations with police officers and detectives, psychologists trying to soothe you out of your stupor still, your mother crying her eyes out at the sight of you right after police arrived at the place of Paul’s death. And, of course, nasty journalists trailing behind you, watching your every move, invading your personal space unapologetically.

Of course, you were quite a catch - the first and only one who ever survived a meeting with König. Everyone wanted to know what he looked like - any particular details, scars or tattoos, a fucking skin colour - anything you could remember would be of huge use, giving at least any clues to a dead unmoving case. But there was very little you could help with - König took great care of covering every centimetre of his skin in black clothing, his voice changed, he smelled of nothing but earth and sickening metal of your boyfriend’s blood. Bastard was even smart enough to not cum inside nor anywhere actually, so that police couldn’t get his DNA samples.

A few months had passed since that horrific attack and there were still no traces of König.

It was midday when your parents had to leave to attend your grandma’s birthday - your mother was reluctant, not wanting to leave you all alone. You were never alone actually - a few police cars always patrolled right outside of your house, not allowing even postmen to get too close to your family’s property. It took a lot of reassuring and encouragement from your side to get your mother off your back, convincing her that you’ll be just fine by yourself and that you want your parents to have some fun. She then gave up with a deep sight, promising to be back in only a few hour’s matter.

You heaved a heavy sigh, closing and locking the front door after waving your parents goodbye, heading to the kitchen to grab yourself a drink. A pile of dirty dishes stacked in a sink caught your eye, the sight of its ugly mess on otherwise clean and tidy kitchen caused an itch somewhere deep in your brain. Without second thought you rolled up your sleeves, pouring dish soap onto the sponge and foaming it up.

As you were halfway through the dishes loud trilling of your landline phone calling startled you, causing you to jump on your spot. Your head whipped around, looking into direction from which the sound came. Wiping your wet hands on the kitchen towel you grabbed the phone, tucking it in between your ear and shoulder after accepting the incoming call.

- Hello? - you said, coming back to the sink, swiping foamy sponge over another plate, cleaning it of any grease and leftover bits of food.

- Hello! Um, can I speak to Paul? - your movements halted abruptly. You stood there silently for a long while, muscles stiff and unmoving, eyes staring blankly at some invisible point in the space before you.

- Excuse me, are you still here? Do I have the wrong number? - the man on the other end of the line said, his voice sounding concerned. It seemed to bring you out of your stupor as you drew in a long breath, exhaling noisily.

- Um, can I ask you how you got this number? - you said, already sensing something weird about this whole situation. But cops were all around your place, there was nothing to be worried about, right?

- Paul gave it to me himself. Said to call here if I needed to reach out to him, - man explained. That was strange but not unexplainable - Paul often hang out at your house, you wouldn’t be surprised if he knew your home phone number better than his own. - So am I calling right?

- Oh, yeah, sorry it’s just… Paul’s dead, - you said, teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, sweet metallic taste coating your buds, but you couldn’t care less, nibbling deeper into small wound, feeling of slight pain grounding you successfully.

- Oh god, what happened? I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. But who am I speaking to then? - the man said, his voice now sounding genuine and apologetic. Everyone around Y/n suddenly sounded genuinely and apologetic. She heaved another sigh, resuming her scrubbing on the plates.

- He was murdered. And I’m his girlfriend, - you said in a calm tone, free of any emotion or feeling. Paul’s death was pretty much the only thing you talked about with others - police, detectives, police again, his parents and friends, your parents and friends. It seemed like such a sensitive topic turned into a rough callous way too quickly. - Well, I was his girlfriend, - Y/n mumbled after a short pause, faint clatter of porcelain audible in the background.

- Sorry about your boyfriend, - man on the line said. There was a brief moment before he added: - all those muscles didn’t help much, did they?

You froze. Silence settled in, interrupted only by occasional electric noise humming through the speaker. You heard your own pulse humping rapidly in your ears, your breathing fast and shallow, all muscles in your body tensing in alarm, straightening your back. Your eyes shoot up, looking out of the window above the sink. There were a few trees growing shallowly - barely an orchard - separating your house from your neighbours. No one was there.

- What’s that, sweet girl? You can’t see me? - a voice taunted, erupting herds of goosebumps running down your spine. - What a shame, I can see you clear as day.

- Neighbourhood is packed full with cops, you sick son of a bitch. If you only fucking dare coming anywhere close to my ho-

- Now-now, Y/n, - slasher interrupted you unapologetically, his voice hard and cold, causing thin hairs on your arms to rise. - Control your fucking language when you speak to me.

Your eyes dropped down onto the sink, fluffy dish soap foam was sparkling, playing with all the rainbow colors under the sun rays pouring in through the window. You clasped the phone in your non dominant hand, your dominant one reaching out and grabbing a kitchen knife from the drying rack, handle still wet and a bit slippery in your grasp.

- My, my, a dangerous thing that you’re holding. Be careful and don’t cut yourself, dearie, - König taunted, making your teeth clench. All blood drained out of your face, making you as pale as paper. Your eyes were fixated upon your window, peering into the orchard, desperately trying to spot any movement.

- What are you planning on doing? Everyone will hear if I scream. And cops will get your ass into prison, right where it belongs, - you spat out, pushing off the counter; your eyes ran all around the kitchen, looking for your cell phone with detective’s number saved, trying to keep the current call going so it’ll be possible to track it down.

- Oh will they? Then you better not scream, silly, - König snorted, making your blood boil. You were frightened still, terrified even; but the remorse of what he did to you, to Paul, was fuelling into your spite, making you a tad bit braver.

Failing to find your phone you entered the living room, rummaging through cushions and blankets piled on the couch, failing to find the stupid thing.

- Looks like you lost something. What’s up sweetheart? - you threw soft cushion back on the couch violently, huffing in annoyance upon not finding what you were looking for. You straightened and turned around to head to your bedroom, stoping in the middle of your tracks, freezing to the spot.

In the doorway leading to the hall stood König - dressed in all black, with heavy leather boots and his huge dagger strapped firmly to his thigh with a sheath, white scream mask staring right back at you. One large hand was pressing the phone to his ear, the other one was holding up your cellphone - the exact one you were looking for.

- You looking for this? - he asked, his own voice reverberating on the line because of your proximity.

You threw the phone to the side clutching onto the knife tightly. You dashed to the kitchen - there was a back door you could slip through - and outside was filled with neighbours and cops. Just pathetic six or so meters. Just a bit…

A scream tearing through your throat was muffled by a huge hand clamping against your mouth, the other one squeezing your wrist so tightly that for a fleeting moment you thought your bones were snapped, causing your grip on the knife to loosen, it falling down on the floor with loud clatter. König kicked the knife away across the kitchen, folding your arm back which caused your back to arch in pain - it felt as if he wanted to tear your limb from the rest of your body.

- Where do you think you’re going, Y/n? - König growled next to your ear, picking you up effortlessly and dragging your kicking form back to the living room.

Hauling you onto the floor König hooked one meaty thigh over your squirming body, putting bigger part on his weight down onto you, momentarily halting all of your struggle. One huge hand took ahold of both your wrists, pinning them to the floor above your head with frightening ease, his other hand was clasping your mouth still. He crouched down, scream mask was mere fifteen centimetres afar from your face as he seethed:

- Now you shut the fuck up and listen closely to what I have to say, and no one will get hurt, you get that? - he said, waiting until you gave him any sing of agreement. But you offered none. - You get that?! - König growled impatiently, bumping your head against the hardwood floor, causing black spots dance in the corners of your eyes for a long minute. You gave a weak nod, feeling hot tears running down your temples, getting lost among your hair.

- I’ve been thinking about you. A lot, - König sighed, hand that was on your face squished your cheeks together painfully, making your lips pucker out. - About this gorgeous mouth and pretty lips…

König crouched down, barely leaving a few centimetres between your faces.

- A this tight little cunt of yours. Remember how you clenched around me? How good my cock was filling you up?

- What do you want from me? - you weeped quietly, voice barely audible, broken by faint sobs and hiccups.

- Very little, dove. Just be an obedient girl and do as you’re told and no one will get hurt, - König tutted, taking in the sight of your crying face. Gosh, he was a sick fuck - his cock was already getting painfully hard, straining against his pants.

Letting go of your face König reached behind his back, withdrawing something from the rear pocket of his jeans. Just as you opened your mouth to cry out for help he shoved that thing inside of your cavity, slapping a hand over your lips so you won’t spit it out. The thing momentarily dissolved on your tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste; you tried to struggle against killer’s strong hold, thrashing violently, but it led you nowhere.

Suddenly you felt hot - as if you had a really bad fever. Your mind clouding up rapidly, thoughts muddling, muscles becoming weaker by the second. You huffed out in frustration; moving your limbs a few centimetres seemed like impossible labour. World was spinning around you, blurring sharp and distinguishable features of König’s mask into a white haze.

König let go of your face once again, his now free hand slid down your body, cupping your sex through numerous layers of clothing separating you two. Sudden pleasure surged through your weakened body upon the contact; a loud moan that rolled off your tongue startled you - and suddenly you realised just how aroused you felt.

- Jeez, that dude didn’t lie about this shit, - König laughed out excitedly, watching your eyes widen in terror. You could barely move by now, not speaking of trying to fight off a man twice your size. His size. In a blur of all events, words and pain you never came back to just how fucking huge he was. You never mentioned that in any of your interrogations. How fucking stupid, huh?

Killer let go of your wrists cautiously, watching you closely - you rose your hands, resting your palms on his chest and pushing with all the might you had left, but it wasn’t enough to even push a cat off the chair - so that was the limit of your strength in this state?

König barked out another laugh - he was going to have so much fun with you! His hand never stopped massaging your crotch, noting a small wet patch forming on your shorts - you were soaked through your panties and now soaking your shorts? Gosh, he better buy a few dozens of these aids. Psycho’s eyes shot up to your face upon hearing a sob - tears ran down your eyes like small diamonds, turning your eyelids a pretty shade of red. König shifted forth so that his mask was almost touching your nose:

- Oh baby, I’ll be much gentler with you this time, I promise, - König cooed, pressing cold plastic of his mask against your flushed wet cheek, as if giving you a comforting peck.

Slasher shifted a bit, changing his position from sitting on your thighs to being in between them, yanking you towards him by your knees. He did quick job of taking your shorts and underwear off in few fluid moves, impatiently discarding them somewhere to the side. König felt his heavy cock twitch inside his jeans at the sight of your puffy cunny, all shiny from slick that practically oozed out of your fluttering hole. He swallowed hard, saliva was practically pooling in his mouth, having to restrain himself from tearing his mask off and devouring your cunt, exposing his face too early. You whined out something unintelligible, still trying to pry his fingers off one of your knees.

Your skin felt hot even through thick fabric of his gloves, so when König took one off and plunged two of his thick fingers inside of your tight hole he was surprised at how hot it was inside of you - one of the drug’s effects, he guessed. You couldn’t help but mewl at the pleasant feeling, your brain barely functioning, controlling yourself was beyond hard.

- That’s it, sweetness. Lemme hear all the pretty sounds you make, - König encouraged, plunging his fingers in and out of you, increasing the pace. Rough thumb coming to circle your slicked clit, causing your whole body to jolt softly. Scent of your pooling arousal was strong and prominent, seeping even through König’s mask, making him throb in his pants.

He couldn’t wait any longer. König was dreaming about your pussy being spread around his cock since that first night, he needed to be inside or else he’ll lose the remnants of his mind. Slasher slipped his fingers out of you, quickly undoing his pants, sliding them down as much as knife holster on his thigh would allow. Your breathing increased as you tried to close your legs, man’s bulky form making it impossible for you to do so.

- No, no please.. not again, - you begged, tears rushing down your temples, your voice meek and barely audible, so König just ignored it.

Pulling his girthy cock out König pumped it a few times with gloved hand, aligning pink swollen tip with your leaking entrance. It one smooth movement he bottomed out half of his impressive length, your body - flushed and pliant - taking him inside without any resistance. Low groan rumbled through his broad chest; König’s head fell backwards, hands gripping soft fat of your thighs, leaving pale marks of his fingertips on your skin.

You hated every second of it. Hated how his hips collided with yours with every thrust, how you felt him throb and twitch inside of you; hated how his hands wandered up and down your sides, rubbing your waist and palming your tits. And you hated how fucking good it felt. Hated how your body, despite all your attempts to resist, to fight off the effects of the drug, gave into the pleasure.

- That’s it baby. Just take what I give you, - König breathed out, his words slurred with pleasure. - See? See how good it can feel when you shut the fuck up and do what I tell you to? Just be a obedient little girl and feel good, I’ll take care of everything else yeah?

It felt as if a ball of bile got stuck in your throat; your face scrunched up in disgust as much as your jelly muscles allowed it:

- Fuck you, - you barely managed to choke out, your tongue struggling to form right sounds.

For a few moments you were sure König didn’t hear you, given the lack of any reaction nor acknowledgement of your words. But the next thing you knew was searing pain in your left cheek, the impact of man’s wide palm with your face jolted your head to the side, sudden change of its position made you felt dizzy. Now world was spinning around you even more so, you felt something warm trickling down your cheek - blood from your nose, you figured. Killer’s fingers roughly gripped your chin, yanking it back so that you were facing him once again.

- You wanna say that again bitch? Come on, I fucking dare you, - he spat out, movements of his hips halting completely, leaving his cock buried deep inside of your rippling warmth.

Your head shifting so harshly once again made you nauseous; you could barely see anything, dark purple circles were dancing all around, changing their shapes and giving way to greens and yellows to flood your vision.

- That’s what I fucking thought, - König gritted out. His hand let go of your chin, coming lower to wrap strong fingers around your neck. His hips started working with even more vigour, forcing his dick in and out of your drugged cunt on the pace that was almost inhuman.

Firm clasp of maniac’s hand around your neck made it nearly impossible to breathe. Both your hands wrapped around his mighty wrist, too weak to actually get him off you. Your vision started to darken rapidly, white noise trilling in your ears, barely allowing any other sounds to filter through.

- From the very moment I laid my eyes on you I fucking owned you. And I own you right now, and forever will. This is my fucking cunt, and I’ll use it whenever I want to. And I need you to fucking. learn. it. - König growled out, emphasising each of his last words with hard deep thrusts of his hips against yours, his cock making your stomach bulge, surely bruising your cervix.

- Oh but I’ll train you. Mould you into my personal cocksleeve, ready to be used whenever I feel like it, - his pace was quickening, thick cotton of his denim pants muffled filthy sounds of his mighty hips snapping against your ass. The grip of strong fingers never eased; König shifted part of his weight onto his hands which were wrapped around your neck, white mask hovering right in front of your face - milky white of it was a harsh contrast to blackness pooling in the corners of your eyes.

With that your conscience started to slip away. You felt your body jolt with every ferocious thrust of man’s hips, his cock buried deep inside of you, bruising your insides with its persistent bullying. Acute lack of oxygen burnt your lungs, and you prayed to all gods that König held your neck a tad bit too long - just enough for you to not wake up the next time. And just before you slipped into heavy delirium, your mushed up brain picked up König’s growl, penetrating through thick noise humming in your ears:

- You’re mine. Forever and ever.

Street was filled with all kinds of noise - sirens from police cars were going off triggering dogs from nearby houses, neighbours were crowding a bit afar, frowning and shaking their heads, everyone having their own theory of what happened. Loud cries of Y/n’s mother shook the air, putting everyone further on the edge. She is such a sweet girl, she’s never done anything bad! Oh god, why is this happening to her of all people?!

Some people were saying that the girl simply snapped, breaking under the pressure of events and finally fleeting the country without telling anyone to not give any clues about her whereabouts to the killer. Some said she just went out to unwind from being constantly watched by police and have some alone time - she’ll show up anytime soon. But everyone knew that it was one of murderer’s deeds - he did something to her. And everyone knew, deep down, that they’ll never see Y/n again - alive, at least.

A young lanky policemen, obviously green and not experienced in his job, was babbling out his report to the superior, all the other cops that were patrolling with him as well stood around silently, too scared to pipe in.

- Sir, I swear we were patrolling the area all this time, there was literally no one but the neighbours, but they were staying at their pro-

- Then you were not doing it well enough! - city commissioner barked out, his mighty vice silencing everyone around for a short moment. His face was red, fuming with rage; nostrils flaring with intensity of his heavy breathing, angry vein popped up on his temple, pulsating in tandem with his rapid heartbeat. His heavy gaze shifted between all the poor officers, their faces pale as chalk.

- You had one fucking job. ONE fucking job - to keep the girl in the sightline - and where is she now, huh? I’m asking you motherfuckers - where is Y/n?! - Mr. Lindner barked out, his heavy voice making everyone jolt. Younger officers stared down on their shoes blankly, not daring to meet eyes with their boss.

- You may consider yourselves lucky if you’ll still have your licences by the end of the week, - commissioner Lindner tsked, spitting onto the ground in remorse. Turning around, he headed to his police issued car, shouldering all those nosy ones who were brave enough to approach him in this state. Getting inside Mr. Lindner closed the door with a loud bang, starting the engine and pulling out of the driveway onto the main road.

Commissioner Lindner drove in full silence, blue eyes fixated on the road ahead; it was barely past midnight, but the darkness hung thick all around, being slit by two yellow rays of his car’s headlights. He gripped steering wheel tighter, one hand coming to comb back his grown out hair out of his eyes, a small smile played in the corners of his scarred lips.

Soon he’ll be home - maybe the effects of drugs will wear off by that time and he’ll watch Y/n wake up slowly, those pretty doe eyes of hers gazing up at him drowsily. He will cook her dinner - all of her favourites - and maybe even spoon feed her, if she’ll allow it. Then he’ll bathe her and tuck her in her new bed, locking up the door for the night and watching her sleep through the cameras.

Everything was going as smoothly as ever. No one has accidentally seen him dragging unconscious Y/n out of her house and hauling her into the backseat of his car. No signs of struggle or fight were found - kitchen sink was still half-filled with soapy water and dirty dishes, clean ones drying off on the countertop, a knife with all the fingerprints being drowned among other dirty utensils. Y/n’s parents approved that everything was on its original place - as if the girl just disappeared, dissolved into thin air.

No one suspected a thing. And, of course, no one suspected a respectable city commissioner Lindner with years upon years of experience, a veteran with impeccable reputation, a person no one could speak badly of.

This was the beginning of your new life, life in which everything revolved around König, causing you to cling onto him as if he was some kind of goddess. Life in which you no longer belonged to yourself, but to your abductor. Life in which you finally understood that you don’t need anyone or anything else because you had König, understood that König was your life itself <3

Slasher! König Masterlist

A/n: I apologise for giving König a half assed name, but I thought it’d be really cool for the plot😌

Once again, feedback is highly appreciated! I’m making this a series so feel free to send in your suggestions for more slasher! König content<3

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yelena-belovas-gun · 3 months

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Overworked (Natasha Romanoff)

Summary: You end up working a little too much.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!engineer!reader

Warnings: Overworking, tension, stress, anxiety, sickness, fever.

Requested by the following bao bun: @splat-tasha

Translations: 1. Detka: baby 2. Malyshka: baby girl 3. Dorogoy: darling 4. Moya lyubov: my love

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Honestly, working with S.H.I.E.L.D was very well paying, well-rewarding, and worth all the effort you put into it. You loved building things for the agents, coming up with new designs for weapons and bringing them up from graphite on paper into metal on gunpowder.

Natasha had to admit, though...you overdid it sometimes. You'd sometimes lose days of sleep over some new variation of a weapon, or while repairing a broken jet. Now, the bags under your eyes had pretty much become your personal accessory.

"Detka, please, don't overwork yourself..." she'd mutter against your hair as she cuddled your tired body after you'd finally let yourself rest.

"I won't, darling, I swear..." you'd mumble, but it would end up being a lie within the next two days, maximum.

This time, it went a little too far.

The entire day, you'd shown small signs that you were slowly falling sick from the amount you were working. Starting with your sudden loss of appetite, to blinking for a few seconds longer than any normal person would deem healthy.

"L/n, I need this ray gun fixed, asap," one of the agents said, handing you the said weapon. You shook your head to clear your foggy senses and nodded, taking it.

Later that day, Fury called you to his office and described a new kind of weapon they'd need for a stealth mission, and of course, you agreed to have the prototype ready within three days.

"Hey, Y/n, can you fix my pistols?" Maria asked you after that interaction, handing you a box. "For some reason, the safety isn't coming on on either of them since my niece messed with them, and I cannot have guns without a safety lock in the house..."

"N-no issue, Keya..." you mumbled, addressing her by the wrong name in your tiredness.

"Keya?" she raised a brow.

"Shit, sorry, I meant Maria..." you apologised, embarrassed. "I'm a bit tired, sorry. I'll have the guns fixed by tomorrow, no issue."

She smiled and thanked you, walking away.

You continued to walk around and work like a corpse, and felt the need for several cups of very strong coffee throughout the course of the day.

Natasha felt her gut telling her something was wrong, and decided to go and check on you.

And thank every merciful god that she did.

You were a mess, your workshop was like a hurricane hit it and it then got ransacked by an army of wild cats.

Nuts and bolts littered the floor, pages were scattered across two worktables joined together, grease stained the floor, and a concerning number of coffee cups were strewn around.

She heard the buzzing of a soldering iron and saw you at a worktable which had some of the surface visible. Your hands, which were normally so steady, were trembling, and you looked like you wanted to pass out as you fixed the safety lock of Maria's guns.

You got a phone call, and didn't notice Nat as you answered it, putting it on speaker.

"Hey, Y/n, it's Phil. Coulson," came the voice from the other line. "So, um, I know you fixed my car earlier this week, but I got into a bit of a scuffle...the engine's not starting up and I think I screwed up the oil tank while I was at it cause this bugger won't fill up at all."

You exhaled heavily, putting a grease-stained, and shockingly blistered hand to your forehead, making another black mark appear on your skin. "I'll come over tomorrow to look at it, Dave."

"...Dave? What the hell?" His voice sounded confused and irritated, making you click your tongue in annoyance and sigh.

"I'm sorry, that's the thirdtimetoday..." you muddled your words together as well, making him as you to repeat. "I said it's the third time I've messed up someone's name."

"No problem, just can you fix it?" He asked.

"Yeah," you bade him goodbye and cut the call, going over to your whiteboard, where an array of tasks and their deadlines were listed out.

Natasha was horrified to see how many of them were marked for each day.

"Y/n, what the fuck?" Natasha gasped, seeing your hand shake and seeing you screw up Phil's name spelling on the board thrice.

You turned around and gripped the edge of a chair for support. You had a headache, and now were too dizzy to stand.

"O-oh...h-hi, Tasha..." you smiled at her.

"Don't you 'hi Tasha' me, idiot!" She stormed over to you, but nevertheless took your greasy hand in hers tenderly. "Detka, you are so overworked..." she felt how cold your hands were and immediately checked your temperature.

Fever.

"And you have a fever!" She gasped, "Why didn't you tell me you were sick!?"

"I'm not sick...am I?" Your eyes widened as you looked at the board, panicking. "No, no, no, I can't fall sick! I have so many things to give by tomorrow!"

"Y/n," Natasha's voice was scarily firm as she held you in place, forcing you to look into her eyes. "I am taking you home, and you will rest, or else."

"But Tasha..." you whined, but she was having non of it.

"Moya lyubov, moya dorogoya," she sighed, petting your hair and speaking as if you were a five year old, "You need rest, otherwise you'll fall sicker. Now, go and wait in the car."

"...yes, Tasha..." you mumbled like a five year old, and walked off.

Natasha was like an angry mama bear as she stormed into Nick Fury's office.

"Nicholas Fury, how dare you run Y/n to such levels of exhaustion that she's fallen sick!" She exclaimed, seething. "She has a fever, she is literally stumbling around and surviving on unhealthy amounts of caffeine, and is mixing up people's names! How dare you treat her like a machine! she fixes machines, doesn't mean she is one!"

Fury sighed and remained calm in the face of the livid assassin. "Please, tell Y/n to keep her projects on hold, and that she has nothing to worry about because we will pay for this sick leave. Happy?"

"Very. Now if I ever see this happen again, I will commit murder, and it will be yours." She turned on her heel and stalked off, back to the car where you were.

She got into the driver's seat and kept you nicely warm in her jacket, till you both got home.

"Now, malyshka, please rest," she kissed your forehead and smiled after she'd tucked you into bed.

"Thank you, Tasha..." you mumbled. she lay beside you and gently stroked your hair, stopping after you fell asleep, and cuddled you to recovery.

Maybe overworking had it's own perks...

THE END.

#natasha romanoff #shield #natasha romanoff x reader #femreader #engineer!y/n #wlw #bisexual #lesbian

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nctstar · 3 months

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poly! nct 127 ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡ threesome ver.

hard dom members x sub reader

pairing: nct 127 x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

genre: smut

warnings: sexual content so minors please dni! everything is consensual, hard dom members, heavy degradation and bsdm content (don't read if triggering), safeword discussed, oral (male and female receiving), rough penetrative sex (unprotected, please be safe irl), manhandling, hair pulling, painplay + impact play (whipping), face slapping + spanking, squirting, fingering, clitoral stimulation, double penetration (same hole), a lot of crying, begging, sexual punishment, daddy kink, kissing, anal (female receiving), multiple orgasms + overstimulation, intense orgasms, mentioning ex during sex, handjob, hand over mouth (female receiving), profanity, (everything is really messy idk how to write this so you hopefully get what i mean)

disclaimer: this is a fanfiction purely from my (filthy) imagination. I don't know the nct members and don't claim that they act like this in real life. I also do not condone any of the activity by any of the characters in this fic. everything is consensual and safewords/limits have been discussed prior to the scene - sex is only sex when it's fun for both parties, please keep this in mind <3

a/n: so um...here's this. I was running on matcha coffee 3 hours of sleep and 2 episodes of pretty little liars all before 9am yesterday when something in my body just felt COMPELLED to write this, so here it is :D also labyrinth ch 2 is COMINGG i just need time to write it in a good way, but i've planned the entire thing and am excited to see how it ends up. also, i've decided to make poly! nct a series, not quite sure if i'll keep the same pairings or how this will work but it won't only be smut, i plan to write lots of different types of scenarios for them. anyways, love you, bye for now xx

Mark & Taeyong ~ Thighs slipping against each other, water dripping down to your ankles as you stumbled towards Taeyong’s parted legs. “Bend over.” He commanded, but you felt the shove before you could, pushing you forward with a gasp. Mark’s open hand now pressing down on the shallow bend of your back, he toyed with the strings of your bikini bottom, chuckling darkly at your every whine. Taeyong grabbed your chin roughly, forcing your face inches away from his. You winched as his grip tightened, hard enough to leave bruises. “Fucking slut.” Your heart hammered as you felt the cold air hit your now bare core and ass, Mark squeezing the plush of your behind as he groaned in pleasure. “Fuck, she’s so sexy.” He drawled. The panic began to quicken, pouring down your veins like ice water when you felt the wood-hard bulb of his dick press against your exposed hole. Eyes watering, you begged, not quite sure what you were begging for. “Please, please, p-please…” Mark slapped your ass in response, the tears now rolling down your cheeks as you cried out. Your vision whitened, side of your face stinging as Taeyong slapped you, twice, the edges of his ring marking a spot underneath your cheekbones. “Bend the fuck over. All the way.” You nodded as you cried, shutting your eyes as you held your ankles and let your head hang down, the blood rush making you delirious.

The pain and pleasure made your legs tremble, losing control of your body, gripping until you felt the bony edges of your ankles, moans ripping themselves from your throat as Mark bottomed out. “So big, please…” You gasped, as if his cock choked you from the inside. You babbled apologies, shaking your head when you heard the sound of Taeyong’s zipper above Mark’s sloppy thrusts. “Please, n-no…no more, I can-nghh,” you trailed off, feeling your own release grease your inner thighs, shame pooling in the bottom of your stomach. “We’re not done here, slut. No safe word means you still want this. Stupid whore.” Taeyong groaned as he pumped himself to his full hardness, watching you shakily squat down to the cold tiles, listening for any signs of protest. You stayed quiet, heaving, a sudden urge to let go as your head throbbed from your last orgasm. You felt Mark wrap one arm around your lower stomach, pressing down hard and lifting you off the ground. You squealed, trying to push his arm away, the muscles bulging underneath his skin. “You’re too rough with m-me…” Your knees hit the cold tiles as Taeyong pushed his length into your mouth, another hand holding you in place and gripping your hair tight. “Can you cum like this? Hmm?” Your head spun, pussy throbbing from the humiliation, Mark’s legs now caging your body as you stared up at Taeyong, cock bruising the back of your throat. Your pleas were lost around his length as Mark began to press his fingertips into your scalp, making you sob. “What’s the matter? Too rough?” He teased, his laugh searing into your brain. You pressed your thighs together as something sent you over the edge, making you spray all over the tiles like a rabid animal. As you gasped for air, Taeyong kept thrusting in your mouth, groaning as he came, moonlight hitting the sheen on his skin as you swallowed every last drop.

Jaehyun & Johnny~ “Faster, sweetie.” His words dripped sticky like honey in the shell of your ear. Your legs wobbled, biting your lip so hard you tasted rusted metal. With Jaehyun’s semi-hard cock nestled inside of you, you tried to grind your hips quicker, earning a satisfied groan from Johnny. “Good girl.” You moaned in pleasure, shockwaves of euphoria running through your body, but moments later, Johnny gripped you around the waist, fingers digging harshly into the plush of your sides. “But not fast enough.” You whimpered, knowing what comes next. Jaehyun brought one arm up to wrap around your shoulders, pulling your face into the crook of his neck. As you shook your head, he shushed you quietly. “Wanna use your safe word?” You shook your head, and Jaehyun held you tighter against him, the fingers of his other hand travelling down to press down on your clit. “Such a nasty little doll for us to fuck.” You moaned when he sped up, tears flowing down your cheeks as you came. “So quick to cum too. Open.” You thought he meant open your eyes, so it took you by surprise when he pressed his fingers past your slightly parted lips, pressing down on your tongue until drool ran down your chin. “Silly girl.”

Your body jerked when you felt the thick tip of Johnny’s cock press against you. You gazed pleadingly at Jaehyun, as if to beg for mercy. “Can’t even use our cocks right. Gotta do all the work ourselves. Stupid girl.” You buried your face into Jaehyun as the heat of embarrassment blossomed across your face, but Johnny wasn’t having it. One quick wrap around his wrist and your head was yanked back, scalp burning from the impact, stray strands of hair falling limply across your face. “What do you say, hmm?” The stretch burned deliciously as he continued to push inside you, tucking himself right next to Jaehyun, so good you forgot how to breathe. “Mnghh, y-yes, s-so good, please, please, Daddy, l-love it, love being stuffed…” Your mouth slackened as an unexpected orgasm rendered you numb. When your senses returned, you felt Jaehyun grind his hips upwards in smooth, fluid, quick snaps, while Johnny pounded you from the back. You cried as you felt another orgasm be torn from you, piece by piece. “F-fuck, oh my god!” Johnny’s arms wrapped around your neck, your fingernails tearing at his biceps for air as you squirted hard over both of them. “Please, Daddy, can’t-“ As he released you, letting you fall onto Jaehyun’s toned torso, you cried, stuttering in between shaky breaths. “T-thank, you, thank you…”

Haechan & Taeil~ “It’s too big…” you whined, lube running down the crevices between your legs. Haechan shushed you, petting your hair. “You’re okay, kitty. Remember we use our words when we want to stop, hmm?” You nodded, remembering the safe word. You couldn’t lie – it felt equal parts weird and good. You felt Taeil lift you by your arms, letting you wrap your arms around him. “Mmm, Daddy…” you sighed as he sucked and nipped at your neck. The dildo continued to travel inside your ass, and Taeil whispered in your ear. “You’re gonna take it all, right? Like a good kitty.” You cried as the stretch started to make you force yourself off the dildo, but Taeil grabbed your thighs, pressing them against his so you couldn’t move. “Shhh…” he continued to kiss along the shell of your ear, while you protested. “Daddy, f-fuck, wait, it’s so b-big…” Haechan was relentless, and without warning, began to thrust it upwards. You felt like your entire world had been split into two, your stomach torn to shreds. “Oh my god!” you screamed. “H-Hyuckie!”

“Naughty kitty…you thought I hadn’t noticed that you were flirting with Mark today?” You cried, shaking your head as he continued his pace. Your heart pounded at the thought of him going faster, even though you knew you could stop him at any point. “Bad kitty.” He tutted. Taeil’s bulge grew underneath your pussy, and you made the mistake of glancing down. “Nasty kitty.” Haechan’s breath tickled the side of your neck, and your body started to shake in pleasure. “Hnghh…” Taeil laughed. “You’re soaking me, kitty. You’re really gonna cum from your punishment?” His teasing tone made you moan incessantly, and he grabbed your hand, shoving it under the waistband of his shorts. “Daddy first.” You nodded, stroking him under his pants as Haechan continued to fuck your ass with the dildo, groaning at your pornographic sounds. “What do you say, kitty?” You felt Taeil coat your hands with cum, and your legs shook. “H-Hyuckie, please, can I cum?” He stayed quiet, pressing the dildo fully inside you. You continued to beg as he pushed his cock inside you, sliding down Taeil’s body agonisingly. “Can’t, c-can’t hold it in, p-please…” Taeil pressed your face on his crotch while he chuckled. “What about me, honey?” With tears running down your face, you begged, “C-can I cum, Daddy…please – oh!” the breath left your lungs as Haechan yanked the dildo out, sheathing himself inside your ass. “Cum, kitty.” You stammered words of relief as you came the hardest you ever had, Haechan finishing all over the curves of your ass and lower back.

Jungwoo & Yuta~ You couldn’t see anything, but you knew it was him. You’d recognise his lips anywhere, tongue slithering up inside you like snakes. “J-Jungwoo.”

You heard the whip crack before you felt it, a diagonal line on your back, white-hot pain seeping into your body. You fought a sob as Jungwoo kissed your neck, the lips on your core still sucking and kissing your sensitive folds. “Wrong.”

He waited for you to give you the all-clear, to nod, letting him know you were still good to continue before he left your side, and it was silent again.

You yelped in surprise as you felt someone nip at your chest, one hand pressing your back to keep you still. You whimpered, the sudden jolts of pain making your body writhe under his arms. “Y-yuta.”

You were released immediately, but your breathing remained laboured. For a second you thought you were wrong again, and you held your breath, squeezing your eyes even though you were blindfolded. “Correct. Last one.” You felt your head be yanked back by your hair, making you yelp. “A-ah, it hurts…” You feel something rub against your lips, the shape and texture making you quickly realise it was a cock. You whimpered involuntarily, knowing this one would make or break this game. You swirled your tongue around the end, sucking on the tip, kissing blindly around the shaft, your lips meeting the softer skin of the balls as you did. “Jungwoo.” You continued kissing, sucking, bringing your hands up to cup his balls, and that’s when you heard him groan. “Fuck. So filthy, isn’t she, Yuta?”

He laughed, and you felt the air between your legs. He sucked your clit, making you moan onto Jungwoo’s length. “A-ah, feels good…” Yuta hummed into your core. “Filthy sluts like you…” he kissed you, “…deserve…” he swirled his tongue inside you, holding your knees down when they rebounded upwards to move away from his mouth, “to cum over, and over…” You came with a cry as he sucked relentlessly, but you were cut off by Jungwoo pushing his cock inside you, making you gag noisily. “If you like my cock so much, let me give it to you.” Dizzy with relief, Jungwoo lay you on your back, the sheets slipping against your bare skin as you slid your body upwards. Yuta held you down, pressing your stomach into the mattress, watching as your back arched off the sheets rhythmically, tits rolling with each movement. “S-so good, fuck, f-fuck…” Your legs felt like jelly as Jungwoo held your face in place, the new angle over you allowing him to thrust in your mouth, the weight of gravity making his cock heavier than usual. Balls slapping against your chin, you felt it bulge in your throat, wrapping your fingers around yourself to feel it slip in and out of you. He pulled out slowly, a slurry of coughs and moans filling the air as you felt yourself cum onto Yuta’s face, his fingers rubbing the inside of your knees to ground you. You babbled incoherently, not knowing whether you wanted Yuta to stop, for Jungwoo to leave. The tip of Jungwoo’s cock on your lips brought to back to Earth. “Give me a kiss.” You kissed him diligently. “Y-yes sir, love this c-cock so much…” He came all over your ruined face to finish the job, just as you felt Yuta press himself inside you, sensitive clit screaming from the stretch.

Doyoung & Jaehyun~ “Stop, s-stop…” Jaehyun halted his fingers as you shuffled your bare body on his satin pants, pressing your legs together to centre yourself in the midst of your post-orgasmic haze. “Already came.” Jaehyun leant his head over your shoulder, bringing your naked body closer to his. “I know, sweetie. Wanna see you make another mess…” He brought his hands closer to your core, watching and waiting for you to protest. You didn’t. You were watching Doyoung, watching the way his shirt hung off him desperately, inches of his body peeking out from under the fabric. “Like what you see?” You moaned unexpectedly when Jaehyun dug his fingers inside you, running his fingers across your spongy walls. “A-ah…” Your mouth hung open, the pleasure more intense than before. Doyoung walked across to tilt your chin upwards, wrapping his fingers around your jaw while his thumb ran across your swollen bottom lip. “What was that you said about your ex? How he made you finish so hard you had to throw away your sheets?” The implications of his words somehow made that knot in your stomach tighten, every stroke of Jaehyun’s fingers now bringing you to the edge of euphoria. “Answer me.” He squeezed your cheeks as you made guttural noises, your orgasm hitting you at once. Jaehyun sped up his fingers, not caring when he felt your insides grip him like a vice, as it begging him to slow down. The slap of his palm against your clit was brutal, and Doyoung pressed his open palm against your mouth. “If you’re not gonna answer me, then you don’t deserve to speak, whore.” Tears sprung to your eyes as you grabbed at Doyoung’s wrist, pleading. He watched you carefully. “Nod if you remember the signal that replaces the safeword.” You nodded eagerly, and he stepped closer to you, his other hand now pushing the back of your head into his palm, holding your head in place.

“Finish me off. Hurry up.” You grabbed at his pants, the silky fabric slipping away as you wrapped your hands around his length. He groaned, bringing your head to his stomach as he let go of your mouth, letting you breathe into his stomach. “Good girl. Stay quiet now.” You whimpered, losing count of the times you had already came. Jaehyun pulled his fingers out, pressing onto your clit now. You lifted your head off Doyoung. “Nghh, wait, not there…” Doyoung smacked your head in warning, making tears spring to your eyes. “This is why you haven’t squirted yet. We’re too nice to you. Always listening to you, treating you like a princess. When all you are is a dirty whore.” His words made the tears run down your face, but you were turned on more than ever. Jaehyun sucked at your neck aggressively, his voice deep and sonorous. “We’re not finished until you’ve squirted hard enough to ruin these pants. Then once again around my cock. And then around his.” You wailed, feeling your orgasm approach you in towering phases. “Ah, ah, feels w-weird, fuck, wait, I think I’m gon-“ You were cut off by Doyoung’s fingers, pressing inside you while Jaehyun drew circles on your clit. “Don’t fucking stop jerking me off. Don’t care if you’re cumming.” You threw your head back, quickening each flick of your wrist as you felt yourself reach your high, each cry more intense than the last. Legs shaking, you felt the wetness come out of you in quick bursts, fingers spreading it all over the three of you, through clothes and onto skin.

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hidtired · 9 days

Text

Unfortunate Timing Prologue

(Daryl Dixon x Reader) Masterlist

Description: You found out your pregnant early into your relationship with Daryl Dixon. To make matters worse? The apocalypse happens a few days later! (not fully canon)

5.7k words

Warnings (Pregnancy, gore, smut, reference to abuse, violence, fluff, walking dead stuff, ect.)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 etc.

Pre Apocalypse

You had moved to a small town in Georgia to get away from your parents. Your Aunt Mary had a little boutique and offered a job. Your parents didn’t like you weren’t married yet, not even dating either. So they have been shoving men at you for the last few years. They thought by your age you should have been married with kids. They wanted grandkids. Your brother was married but him and his wife struggled with fertility. The final straw was trying to get you into an arranged marriage with one of your father’s business buddies kid. You had only just turned 30.

It had freaked you out how your parents made it seem like you didn’t have a choice. So you packed your bags, your mother pleaded for you to not go. You broke the lease to your apartment and left without telling them where.

You like the simple life you were leading now. Helping your Aunt's business. You lived with her because she was a widow with no kids and wanted the company. You had some interesting neighbors across the street. You had just driven into the driveway taking notice of a man fixing his truck. It was hot outside and his arms were covered in grease.

You walked into the kitchen where your Aunt was doing dishes. You decided to help making idle talk about how the shop was until you looked out the window to still see the sleeveless man. Your Aunt caught you looking, "Thought you came here to get away from boys?" You smile shyly at being caught, looking back down and handing her a wet plate to be dried. "Never said that... Just the one my parents choose. Didn't have time to look for a date when men were thrown at me randomly by them." Your Aunt was amused to say the least. "That's Daryl Dixon, him and his brother live there. You have to watch yourself with a Dixon. But Daryl has helped me with a few things that broke around the house. He replaced the battery's in the fire alarms for me a week before you came."

You gave her a sideways look, "You trying to set me up now to?" Mary laughs, "Fine fine, granted I do bake something for him every time he does something for me. Could just have a sweet tooth." You look back out the window, ‘Daryl huh?’

It was a week later that you got a call from your brother. You went on a walk to take the call. He was anger that your father was on him for a kid because you had disappeared. The pressure had turned to his wife who was already having a hard time with infertility. It was when you were walking back to the house did the conversation get heated.

"Grow a back bone and yell at them Mathew! Why are you coming at me for!?" He responded with his own venom, "Why couldn't you just do what they asked! But go ahead die alone for all I care!" He ended the call abruptly after. You clenched your teeth tight and closed your eyes trying to compose yourself. A voice called from across the street, "Ya doin alright over there?" You turned to see Daryl beer in hand with the hood of his car open. You sighed shoulders sagging, "Sorry for the yelling." Daryl pick up another beer showing it off to you, "Sounds like ya could use one of these." You put your hands to your hips before deciding to walk over. You grab the beer he handed you with a smile, "Thanks..."

You cracked the can open taking a sip. Daryl stare at you for a second before saying something, “Yer boyfriend causing you trouble?” You chuckled at the thought, making a small face of disgust at it even, “No, that was just my brother being an ass.” Daryl took mental note of that ‘single’. He huffed and looked back down into his trucks hood. “Oh trust me I know how that is.” You look at him as he refocused his attention to his car, ‘That’s right, that’s what your Aunt had said.’ You lean against the truck. “Your Daryl right? I’m Y/N” Daryl looked back up at the mention of you knowing his name, “Oh so ya heard bout us.” He sounded a bit disappointed at the thought. You lean to look inside the car, smiling over to him, “Only the things my Aunt said.” He perked a brow at that, “Who’s yer Aunt? What she say about us?”

“Mary.” You pointed over your shoulder to the house, “And she mentioned you might have a sweet tooth.” Daryl looked over to the house of the lady he often did things for, her niece chiming in again. “Always see you fixing this truck across the street.” He pulled a red rag from his back pocket wiping his hands, “Ya damn thing always seems to be breakin.” He took notice of the girl fully now. You took slow sips of the beer he gave you while starring into the hood. “Well if I have any trouble with my car I know who to ask.” You looked up to him with a shy smile. “I’m useless when it comes to knowing anything about cars.”

That’s how they both started talking. You watching him fix a couple spark plugs while talking about things. Getting to know each other a little. Like how you were helping Mary with her shop. “Ah, so you just moved here.” You nodded, “Mmm about a month. Have no clue where anything is and have no friends so…” you shrug. A breeze started as evening was setting in. Daryl hesitated before saying, “I could show you some local spots.” He bit the side of his thumb nail waiting for an answer. You had bit your bottom lip looking up at him and smiled, “Sounds like fun to me.”

He was worried for a second he messed up, “There’s a bar that everyone knows, real popular on Fridays.” You nodded while looking at him staring down at your watch seeing you had been talking for about a hour. It was getting late so you slowly started to walk backwards to your house. You smile with a glint in your eye, “Sounds like a Date… see you Friday!” You waved and all he could do was look on with wide eyes. Did you just- “Pick you up at 8!” He yelled. He was in slight disbelief at the out come. Had you been flirting with him the whole time?

You had handed him a tool before he could even ask. You had known how to do it all along and played stupid to talk with him. He smiled down as he closed his hood. ‘Oh you were trouble.’

When Friday came he was kicking himself. This was unlike him to go on dates. But he wouldn’t deny he liked you. You were also looking forward to a date for the first time in a while. Preferring it more than being tricked on to one with some guy your parents liked. Daryl probably didn’t fit that kind a guy they would. Oh but your kind definitely. Your Aunt watched you try on an outfit before deciding to go with a floral casual dress that went to your knees. She gave you a smug look and you only rolled your eyes. You had a long black jacket over you, knowing it was already cool outside.

Daryl knocked on the door and off you went in his truck to this bar. He was slightly nervous when he saw you dolled yourself up, and for him? He had lied to Merle where he was going and doing. He was desperately trying not to blow this, “Ya look pretty…” he had said it at a stop light looking over to you. It’s everything a girl wants to hear, and it sure made you smile.

When they got to the bar the bartender seemed confused to see Daryl with a girl. He was normally there with his brother. Mostly to make sure he didn’t do anything stupid he had noticed. “Well if it isn’t a Dixon, tell your brother he still owes me for the glass he broke.” Daryl cringed at the mention of his brother. You just simply took a seat on a stool. “What can I get you two.”

You had a few drinks you’ll admit. You tried a classic drink that the locals had. You were grossed out at the drink causing you and Daryl to laugh. He only had a drink with the need to drive you both home. You had tried to play pool but decided you were a little to inebriated at how many times you missed the ball entirely. You were standing in a corner of the bustling bar talking. You held a bow empty cup dying laughing at a story had told you about his childhood. Sometimes kids dumb actions, like jumping off a shed in a hero outfit, were just funny. You had lost a little balance at your laughing and place a hand onto Daryl’s chest. He only looked down to you putting a hand to your waist to steady you. You had tears of laughter in you eye, you fanning your face to no ruining your make up. He was definitely enjoying this more than he wanted to.

You had been at the bar for about 4 hours with Daryl. You now walked leaning into him in the parking lot. He had an arm around your shoulder leading you to the car door. He started the car and looked over to you, “Should have told me ya were a lightweight.” You gasped offendly, “Lightweight! I’ll have you know I’m just tipsy.” He looked at you questioningly humming. You relaxed into the car seat, “Ok, I’ll admit I haven’t done this in a while- might be a little rusty on the drinking game.”

You both continued to joke around until getting to the neighborhood. He back up in your drive way to later drive into his own. Him doing that thing with his arm as he back up. You bit your lip at the sight. When he parked and looked at you you spoke, “Thank you for this Daryl, I had fun.” He nodded, “Was my pleasure…” you had slowly moved closer crossing the middle seat. He looked down at your flushed face, mostly done by the alcohol. That liquid courage probably giving you the strength to grab him by the chin and slowly kiss him. He leaned into it grabbing your hip. You pulled back with a bashful smile,

“Same time next week?”

He had fully smiled at that, “Ya bet your sweet ass. Now get out of here miss ‘tipsy’.” You giggle wiggling your way out of the car. Waving goodbye with a stupid smile on your face. He felt his heart skip a beat, ‘oh he was real screwed…’

That night he even thought back to how you were looking at him on the way back. He had caught you leaned against the window with hooded eye. When he looked at you, you tried to fight a smile. Oh and how could he not think of the kiss. His hands dragged down his face at the thought.

This went on for a little over a month. You would see each other throughout the week but Fridays you would go out. Small touch’s and kisses here and there. It wasn’t until you ended up back at that bar that things changed. You were only 2 drinks in. You sat in a booth with Daryl. Head on his shoulder and hands intertwined under the table. You pulled away getting up, “I’m going to get another drink and you a beer. Then I’ll wipe your ass in a game of pool!” Daryl chuckled, “Let’s hope you can hit the ball with your cue this time.” You stuck out your tongue at him while walking to the bar. You had only been waiting for your drinks when a man slide up next to you.

“Whats a pretty thing like you doing with a Dixon? He blackmailing you?” The man held a sleazy smirk. You only look at him with disgust ignoring him. It was when he put his hand to your arm pulling you closer did you talk to him, “Hey back off!” The man’s grip tightened, “What you a hooker or something? Only way a Dixon could get some pipe is by paying for a slut.” You had yanked your arm from him, you falling back a little before landing against someone behind you. A arm rapping around you, you recognized it instantly, Daryl. His voice growling and rumbling against you, “Back off my girl.”

The man who was bothering you only rolled his eyes, “Maybe keep your slut on a leash-“ You had felt Daryl lean forward behind you before you even saw him sock the guy in the face. You had gasped and turned to push Daryl back from the guy. He stumbled and held his nose. You whispered to Daryl, “Ok it’s time to go…” You tried to push him closer to the door but the jackass decided to spit out another comment, “Ya let your bitch drag you away pussy!” You felt Daryl lean forward and resisted you leading him backwards but you spoke softly up to him, “Please…” His eyes briefly met yours. He looked back up to the guy who was probably drunk but, Daryl’s blood was boiling with rage. He relented at your plea and walked out the exit.

He was quiet as he walked back to the truck. Walking a little faster ahead of you. When he got into the drivers seat you had said his name but he wasn’t listening. He put the key in the ignition, turning it on but your hand rested onto his arm and you said his name again, “Daryl…”. He slumped a little and turned the car back off. He slowly turned to look at you. You scooted closer into him. You closed your hands around his face so he would look at you. You gave a small smile, “Thank you.” You gave him a quick peck before leaning back to look at him.

He signed and placed his forehead to yours talking a moment. He thought maybe he was gonna scary you off at the out burst. He whispered, “Hope I didn’t scare ya.” You chuckled shaking your head, “They opposite really. I was scared of that guy and then you came and I felt ok again.” He inhaled a breath before I closing his arms around you. He pulled you into him more and you rapped an arm around his back. You sat there for a moment before you spoke, “Soooo, Your girl huh?”

Daryl froze in place. Didn’t even register he said it in the moment. He pulled back from you, mouth agape, stuttering before he gave up at trying to say anything. You placed a hand into his hair playing with a strand of hair, “I’m your girl?” You had almost whispered it. Daryl cleared his throat, “Will you be?” You let out a breathy sigh,

“Yeah, thought you’d never ask.”

That is when you officially started dating. Sat in the truck, in the parking lot, making out for a good 10 minutes.

You were enjoying the new found established relationship. Over the next week was filled with your Aunt seeing you cuddle on the couch watching a movie. You had even managed to give him a small haircut in his bathroom, “Hmm, I think you would look good with long hair.” Sometime you would find yourself in Daryl’s room laying on his bed just talking when Merle was away.

Speaking of Merle he had later found out when at the bar that his baby brother started a fight over his girlfriend. He had thought nothing of it until he asked his brother if it was true. When it was confirmed he laid hurtful comments at him. ‘No one can love someone like us!’ ‘Like you really?’ It was a definite damage to his ego. But some of the things he said about you rubbed him the wrong way. It made him defensive, ‘She a good lay?’ ‘got you pussy whipped.’ They had yet to even cross that line.

You know understood why Daryl had not wanted you to met his brother at first. He made rude and sexually comments to you. Often either being sexist or racist any time near him. You mostly tried to say clear of him.

Then there came the drama that followed from your parents. Apparently your Aunt let it slip to your brother you were with her. He told your parents and now here you were getting a call from her shop. You picked up the business phone and before you could even spit out your prepared greeting you heard your father’s voice boom over the phone. “Now you listen to me little lady you’re coming back home!” You pause shocked. “Your little tantrum is done and you will do as you’re told!” You could hear your mother in the back telling him to calm down. You to in a breath and replied calmly, “Dad, I will do no such thing.”

He was yelling more. You had caught something about a wedding date and some name before your mother took the phone from him. “Honey, you need to come back home ok?” You really couldn’t understand why, “No Mama I like it here.” She went to go on, “We are just doing what we think is best for you. We just want you to be happy with a husband.” You had enough snapping at them for the first time, “You want what’s best for you. If you wanted me happy you would have listened to me! I’ll have you know with the time I’ve been gone I finally feel free. I even got a boyfriend!”

Your mother gasped, “In the town you’re in! What redneck white trash could you possibly find out there!” You were surprised at the way your mother spoke. But you were also mad at it. You angrily replied, “His name is Daryl Dixon! Fuck you! Never call me again!” You hung up seething. You had closed the shop a little early.

After the call from your parents you walked to the bar. The bartender seemed surprised seeing you without Daryl before asking, “Your usual?” You nodded with an appreciative smile. While waiting for the drink you noticed Daryl’s brother with a few other people. You ignored him deciding you would have the one drink and go home, not really in the mood to deal with Merle.

You had just finished your drink when you heard a commotion behind you. Merle and another were arguing. It was getting really heated. You had stood about ready to leave when the other guy threatened Merle, “I’ll kill you for this!” When you had turned Merle was smug looking and unaware of the knife being pulled from behind the man’s pants. You had yelled, “Merle!” In a panic you lobbed your glass at the man. It shattered over his head sending him to crumple to the side on a table. The knife slipping from his hand and landing in front of him. Merle looked down at the knife before looking up to where the glass came from, spotting you. You were shocked with your mouth open looking at the man holding his head in pain, before looking back to Merle. The few other men that were sitting with them getting up displeased.

Merle realizing he was out numbered started to run toward you. He had grabbed you by the arm and dragged you with him to the exit. The bartender yelled as you got dragged away. “Hey!” You had yelled back before the door closed, “Sorry Lawrence I’ll pay you back later!” Merle was still dragging you along to his motorcycle. The door had swung open and the angry men started to pursue you both. Merle had yelled at you when you pause to look at the door, “Get the fuck on!”

You had hopped over the seat and sat behind him. Not having a moment to hold on before he started to speed off. It wasn’t until he pulled into his driveway that you started telling him off.

Daryl had heard Merle’s motorcycle pull in but he wasn’t expecting to hear you yelling right after it. “Goddamn I’m already having a shit day!” When he walked out the front door to see you telling Merle off as he just sat there on his bike silently taking it. He had never seen his brother not throwing words back at someone. “Are you an idiot!” Not even that got a reaction from him. Daryl knew that would normally get replied by violence. It wasn’t until he spoke did you turn at his voice, “The hell is goin on?” Your anger soon crumpled into tears, you were overwhelmed and maybe a bit scared still body pumping with adrenaline. Daryl almost got whiplash at the sudden mood shift.

That didn’t stop him from hugging you as you started to cry. He shot a look to his brother who still sat on his bike. Merle looking weirded out at the sudden tears. "The hell you do ta her?!” Merle rubbed the back of his neck, "May have got into a bit of a fight at the bar with some folks. She kinda stopped me from being stabbed." He had felt you shaking in his grasp now. He knew you hated conflict, told him about the pit that would form in your stomach. But you stopping Merle from being stabbed? "How she do that?" Merle chuckled, "Threw her glass across the room! Knocked him clean on his sorry ass." He seemed almost impressed by you.

Daryl started leading you back toward your home. Daryl turning to yell back to his brother, "Whatever man piss off." He had gotten you into your house before you spoke, "My Aunt went on her Cabo trip with her book club friends. She'll be gone a week... stay?" He gulped, "If ya really want me to." You nodded, "I don't wanna be alone." He saw you were scared.

He lay next to you in your bed after you calmed down and ate dinner. "Want to talk bout it?" You moved closer to him leading him to put a arm over you. You sighed into him, "I was at the bar because I had a rough conversation with my parents. Somethings were said. Their the reason I moved here, to get away from. I saw Merle and then the knife- then all those men chased us." Your hand rose to pinch the bridge of your nose, "Just been a- a shit day." You move to look up to Daryl's blue eyes a smirk rising to your lips at the worried and tight look he was giving you. He relax a little at your attention. He dragged a hand up your arm to your face, "Merle seems to think your a badass now." He himself was a little proud to hear what you did. You grunted into his chest, "He'd better. Saved his dumbass."

You were talking for a while after that. Seeing the clock blinking 1am now. You were sleepy but enjoyed talking to him to much to fall asleep. Sleep was pulling at your eyes and a question that should have been a inside thought slipped out, "Why haven't we had sex yet?" Daryl was a little taken back but not to shocked at the question, he hummed, "Honestly not a clue, I like you to much to mess anything up." Maybe the tired feeling was making his lips a little loose to. He paused before continued, "I've only had meaningless sex. Nothing with feeling behind it." He smirked down to your hazy eyes, "Why? You tryin to get in my pants?" You chuckled adding a little shrug, "Perhaps. Take me out to dinner and we'll see how the night goes from there." That made Daryl's heart beat a little harder. Of course he has thought about it before just didn't know how to act on it with you. He held you a little tighter to him, goofy smile to his face, "Yes Ma'am."

Take you out to dinner he did. Nothing to fancy but by the end of that night you offered him to follow you inside. You were laughing while bumping backwards into things as you both kissed. You stripping buttons down his shirt when he paused face looking uncomfortable. You stopped at the look. He sighed squeezing his eyes tight. Reminding himself it was you. "Uh sorry, just forgot to mention- just look fer yourself..." You softly pulled the shirt down off of him. Revealing scars along his body.

You dragged a finger along one. You look up at him with round eyes. He looked away before saying, “M’ Daddy was a drunk.” You intake air and release it at the information. You leaned down and kissed the scar you touched. Everything turned slow from that point, more sensual. He rolled into you at a pace he never had before. He was used to chasing a feeling, getting it over with. But every time he would push into you he couldn’t help but love the groans you made. You sure loved the noises subconsciously coming out of him as well. You would move up into him. The slow motion had sent you crazy. Leading you to claw at him begging for more. He didn’t go faster but harder.

Your moans filled your bedroom. Daryl was sucking on your neck while rutting into you. He was huffing out air and grunting in exertion. The tight clench he felt around him damn near knocked the wind out of him. He had pulled out and rested his head on your chest while trying to catch his breath. You dug your hands into the back of his hair.

That night lead to many more like it. Which is what lead you to the current situation going on. You were in the bathroom staring at a positive pregnancy test. Not just one but three. You sat on the floor contemplating, 'How did this happen?' 'Do I keep it?' 'How do I tell Daryl?' You and Daryl had been only officially dating for 3 and a half months now. The first test had you in denial, the second had you begging. The third had you close to acceptance. At least you weren't ugly crying anymore. Before anything you needed to tell Daryl. So you called him over saying it was urgent.

He opened the front door and jogged to your room seeing you crisscross on the bed looking distraught. He kneeled down at the front of your bed looking up at you. You took in a nervous breath before talking, "If you need a moment after I tell you this, its okay, I wont be mad." Daryl's heart dropped to his ass, 'were you about to end stuff between them?'

"I'm pregnant."

His eyes slowly widened and he looked down to your stomach then back to you. He abruptly stood up then paused again. His mind moving a mile a minute but also not at all. The one thing to click was "A father? ME?' He slowly walked out the room. You sat there with tears burning in your eyes watching him leave the room. He paced back and forth hand running into his hair. The fight or flight in him was telling him to run, he was overwhelmed. Then he heard a small sniffle come from the room he had just come from. That stopped him in his tracks. He thinks he loves you. You both hadn't gotten to saying it out loud to each other. He didn't know what love felt like but this was what he imagined it to be. He hated to see you cry. Made him feel like maybe he would to if he didn't fix your tears. When he heard you he slowly made his way back into the room. Realizing you were most likely as terrifies as him, more so even.

You felt his arms around you making you cry harder. You had run the possibility of him leaving in your mind. Fully aware of his lack of a good father in his life. When you pulled away to look at him he also had tears going down his face. It was the first you have seen him cry. You had now put your arms around his middle and pulled him down to now lay on top of you. You had a tight hold on him and he you. You both calmed down and you knew he wasn't leaving, then he also whispered into you, "I've got ya. Both of ya."

It was rough that first day. It didn't feel real. You told Daryl how you were going to make a appointment in the morning. You asked if he was wanting to go with. He had slowly nodded deep in thought. You had said they could talk about everything in time.

You both had time.

You had an appointment in a week, the receptionist suggesting you go and buy prenatal vitamins before then. You also broke the news to your Aunt, she was supportive. Saying she would love to help with anything you needed. You and her walked a few blocks to a small store connected to a pharmacy. You looked to the shelves of pills. You held two big bottles, different brands, of prenatal vitamins. The sound of screaming alerting you to a disturbance in the store. You turn to your Aunt with a questioning look. You both peaked around the aisle spotting someone on top of the other, a fight perhaps?

Gun shots to your left making you jump. You turned seeing a man backing down the aisle beside you shooting rounds into a woman approaching him. You witnessed the women not even flinch to each shot. Your Aunt pulled you by the shoulder backwards down the lane. Another person who was pale with foggy eyes rounded the corner. It grabbed your Aunt and before you could blink took a bit out of her neck. You watch in horror as she dropped to the ground with that person on top of her. Blood from her throat being ripped out had splattered across your face. You screamed terrified. The lady the man had been shooting at now turned the corner from the aisle they were in. Now she was covered in blood though. You look down to your Aunt who had stopped moving. The thing taking notice of you. So you ran.

You had just seen your Aunt being brutally murdered. You ran out the door of the building pill bottle still in hand. You saw people running, cars crashing. Others getting hit by cars. It was a nightmare but you felt like you need to keep moving. You ran down the road back to your house. Dodging anyone covered in blood.

Daryl had kicked the door open to your house. Merle was packing stuff into the truck across the road. He screamed your name looking for you anywhere. When he couldn’t find you he ran back to the car, “I can’t find her!” Merle rolled his eyes, “Forget about her! She probably died someone where let’s get are asses out of here!” Daryl yelled back at him with rage. “THE IS NO WAY IN HELL IM GOING ANYWHERE WITHOUT HER!” The yell had shocked Merle. Daryl had never talk to him like that. “We can find you a new lady we gotta go!” Then Daryl did something more unexpected. He shoved Merle back. He had hit the side door of the truck, Merle was about to hit him when he yelled, “She’s pregnant man!”

Daryl had a panicked and pained expression on his face. He started to stuttered out, “I-I gotta go look—“ The sound of his name being yelled from a distance made him turn in the direction. He was relieved to see you running full speed toward him. His relief flooded by panic at the sight of blood painted across your face and cloths. He ran the rest of the way to you. Crashing into each other in an embrace. You struggled to regain breath after how long you were running. Daryl had held your face seeing were the blood came from. Tears forming in your eyes, “It’s not mine…” Merle’s voice cutting in, “Come on love birds we gotta go now!”

Daryl lead you to the car opening the door and making you jump in, “Stay here I’m going to get some of your stuff.” He ran off back to your house and Merle started tightening the cables to the bike in the back. He sat down in the driver seat and looked over to you. You had two pill bottles on your lap and you stared at your hands shaking. He then noticed all the blood on you and decided to keep his mouth shut. Daryl ran back throwing a duffel bag in the back before going to the passenger side. You sat in the middle still a little stunned. Like a bird who flew into glass.

Daryl’s arm went behind your head resting on your shoulders. You leaned into him. Merle had started to peel out of the space driving off into a direction. You heard little of the talk between them. Choosing a quarry they know to get away from the towns and head into the woods.

All you knew was the world was changing.

Part 2

Feedback welcomed and requests open!

Sorry for mistakes I to eepy its 2 am. I'm dyslexic and struggle with it and normally reread 10 times to fix mistakes but this is so long I wanna go to bed.

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #daryl x reader #daryl imagines #daryl x female reader #daryl fanfiction #twd daryl #norman reedus #angst #fluff #smut

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cherrysfanfics-ily · 1 year

Text

↬ Masterlist ↫

☆ Grease: The Rise of the Pink Ladies ☆

☆ Cupid's Match ☆

☆ Grease ☆

☆ Grease 2 ☆

☆ Criminal Minds ☆

☆ Twilight ☆

☆ Miss Peregrines Home for Peculiar Children ☆

☆ Glee ☆

☆ Pitch Perfect ☆

☆ Pitch Perfect 2 ☆

☆ Pitch Perfect 3 ☆

☆ Ride the Cyclone ☆

☆ Mamma Mia ☆

☆ School Spirits ☆

☆ Nerdy Prudes Must Die ☆

☆ Movie! Five Nights at Freddy's ☆

☆ Fruits Basket ☆

↬Will most likely add more fandoms later↫

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ellieslittlewh0re · 10 months

Text

Temptations - stepsister! ellie x fem reader

wk- 3.5k

summary- reader and ellie visit home for the summer after their time away at collage

additional tags: IM SORRY!! I know this is pushing it but it can’t be inc*st if they’re not blood related right? 🙃, reader is Joel’s bio daughter, sarah doesn’t exists in this bc I said so, ellie is adopted, rocker! ellie, band! ellie, loser! ellie, perv! ellie, weed! mention, ellie is kinda awful in this, like typical f*ck boy beat, reader and ellie are polar opposites so they kinda don’t get along, reader is a overachiever, ellie is a deadbeat, nothing too crazy happens in this part, masturbation! warning (ellie), no physical description of reader, mutual pinning and gay longing etc…

part 1 - part 2

psa!! I know this isn’t for everyone!! If you don’t like it, don’t read it!! 🥰

——————————————————————————

The sweltering blaze of the summer Texas sun made my thighs stick to the leather seat of my 97' Buick as I exited the car.

I looked up at the pale yellow house, peeled siding, and a crooked white picket fence hugging the perimeter. It was familiar. It was home. Memories, good and bad, rested in the floorboards.

I stood in the driveway, the strap of my tank loosely hung off my shoulder, backpack slung over one arm, and the other weighed down by a suitcase.

"Hey- kiddo! You're late."

A man shouted from the front porch, waving his hand excitedly.

"I know. I'm sorry. Traffic was bad moving' through Houston." I gave the old man an apologetic smile as he met me halfway, pulling me in for a familiar embrace of musk and pine.

"Jus' glad you made it safe, is all. Dinners on the table. Hope yer hungry- I think I made too much." Joel gave me a smile, the wrinkles on his face looked deeper than I remembered.

He escorts me into the house, taking my bags from me and relieving me of the extra weight.

The house looks the same, but at the same time different. Smaller maybe? The furniture was in the same positions, the walls the same color, although slightly faded from the years.

"Can you go get yer sister? Tell her supper s' ready." The man asks as he turns to the staircase off the entry, bags in hand to put them in my old bedroom.

I tense, my body physically rejecting the idea of my sister- well, step sister.

I was hoping to make it here before she did, give me a few hours of peace before she'd ultimately ruin it.

When Ellie came into this family, it didn't take long for me to become jealous. She quickly clicked with Joel, bonding with him over things that he took an interest in; building shelves, working on cars, hell, even playing guitar.

It's not like I thought my dad loved Ellie more or anything. I knew I'd always be his little girl that got perfect grades and stayed out of trouble, but seeing how his face lit up when Ellie was by his side, grease smeared on her cheek made me heart seare.

I start to head up the stairs, following Joel's lead when I remembered she hasn't slept up there since she was a kid.

During Ellie's angsty teen years, she had begged Joel for days to let her move her bedroom in the basement, claiming "a growing girl needs her own space."

Joel always shot her down, but Ellie wouldn't let up. One night when I couldn't sleep, I got out of bed to get something to drink only to be met with Ellie's 16 year old string bean self pushing her mattress over the railing, and ever since then, the basement has been her territory.

I turn, slowly waking towards the door off of the kitchen that led to said basement, not a hint of enthusiasm in my step.

I creaked open the heavy door, and the wooden steps creaked beneath my feet with each step. Sounds of electronic gunshots and disgruntled curses grew louder as I reached the bottom.

I extend my neck around the corner of the cement room, clothes and empty cans scattered on the floor, music and movie posters filling every inch of the wall surface.

"Els...Ellie." I repeat her name, but she doesn't acknowledge it, her focus never straying from the first person shooter game on the tv. The LED lights that outlined the room turned the space into a purple hue.

My patience wearing thin, I yell her name one last time.

"What?!" Ellie huffed, tearing off the headset that covered her ears and looked at me.

"Dinner is ready." I said plainly, rolling my eyes before going back up the stairs.

"What? I don't even get a hello?"

Ellie yells from her still seated position, a cockiness tingled on her lips.

I scoff, rolling my eyes even harder even if she couldn't witness it. I picture that familiar smug smirk on her face that she had whenever she was trying to piss me off, and it was working.

Ellie loved toying with you like this since you were 16, and she was 17, poking and prodding at you as she sat back, and watched you get worked up. Ellie would never admit it to you, but she loved how no matter how little she tried to rile you up; you'd always bite.

"How's yer classes going? Likin' your teachers alright?" Joel asked between bites of his burger, his eyes glancing at me and over to Ellie, more specifically towards Ellie.

"Good... yeah, everything's good." I nod towards him, giving him a sincere smile to assure him.

Joel winked, smiling back like he knew he could count on me when it came to that sort of thing.

Ellie didn't respond, too busy shoving food in her face which made Joel kick her under the table, jolting her attention away from her plate.

"Ow! What the hell?" Ellie yelled, throwing her hands up.

"Yer classes, Ellie. How are you doin'?" The man asked, a seriousness overtaking his tone.

Ellie groaned, throwing her head back over the top of the wooden dining chair.

"They're fine. Stop worryin'." Ellie gave him a glare before diverting her attention back to her food.

I watch her from across the table, my legs crossed as I quietly ate which was the complete opposite of her.

Ellie's elbows rested on the oak table, her body slightly hunched as she devoured every last bite like she was a starved animal.

I stood at the sink, washing a cup when I felt a hand grab my hip from behind.

"Sorry- here's another one." Ellie talked into my neck, her fingers digging into my hip slightly. Her chest brushed against my back, and her lips too close to my neck. It felt suffocating.

I hadn't realized her presence had me washing the same cup for the entire interaction.

"Hey, Ellie-"

Joel's voice boomed, interrupted into the kitchen, causing Ellie to push herself away quickly.

Joel stood in the archway, his forearm coming up to lean against it.

"I haven't been down in the basement for a long time- please sleep upstairs. I don't need ya gettin' bit by a widow or somthin'."

Ellie groaned, her eyes lolling back into her skull, but she didn't argue.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dinner was long over. Joel retreated into his bed room for the night, placing a kiss on the top of my head before doing so.

I was sitting on the couch; the tv show I was watching was the only source of light that illuminated the main floor.

It was quiet and peaceful, Ellie had gone back down to her dungeon shortly after dinner, playing video games by the sounds of it.

My quiet was disturbed as the heavy basement door swung open, revealing a homely looking Ellie. Her sweatpants hung low on her hips, checkered green and blue boxers peaking above the waistband, and black wifebeater that snugged her torso.

"Isn't past your bed time, young lady?" Ellie teased as she opened the fridge, pulling out a beer before lazily making her way to the living room.

"Who cut your hair, Hellen Keller?" I snapped right back, a smirk on my lips as she took a seat on the opposite end of the couch.

"Oh- ha. Ha. You're funny."

Ellie pulled a lighter out of the pocket of her pants, using the top to pop open the cap of the brown bottle.

Her chuckle was low and raspy as she brought the rim of the bottle to her lips, her head dipping back as she swallowed the liquid.

Ellie had changed a lot since the last time I saw her, almost two years ago. Her hair is shorter, choppier, and a darker shade of brown, almost black.

Ellie is also taller and more muscular like she really grew into herself. Her face has hardened, her cheeks and jaw more apparent than before.

I sneak peeks at her, looking her over and familiarize myself with my step sisters new look. My eyes travel down to the dark green-blue ink that covered her forearm, a moth with fern leaves. It was pretty, almost too delicate looking compared to her, but it suited her.

My eyes scale down further to her hands, long fingers and a prominent veins that curved along. I have to give it to her, she always had beautiful hands.

"Take a picture it will last longer."

Ellie's voice jolted me out of my trance, my head quickly turning back to the tv.

I try to think of something- anything to cover my tracks.

"Don't get cocky- I was looking at your tattoo. It's nice... who did it?"

Ellie lifted her arm, turning it over to observe it.

"My ex. She bought a tattoo gun online and needed someone to practice on." Ellie said nonchalantly, shrugging before looking back up at the tv.

"Well- she did good. Why is she your ex now? You should've kept her around and gotten tatted up." I ask with genuine interest.

Ellie shrugged, taking another sip of her beer.

"Dunno- We kinda just fell out? Plus she caught me with another chick and freaked out." Ellie stated, not a hint of guilt after just admitting she's a cheater.

Somehow it didn't surprise me after all the girls she'd bring home after school. I'd see the same girl come over a few times within the week, only for the girl to be replaced by a different girl, and the cycle continued like that until she left for college.

"You think your big sis is a bad person now?" Ellie asked, a grin on her lips and she took another sip.

"It doesn't make me think of you any differently." I lied. It did make me think of her differently; I started to imagine what her sex life was like.

What's so great about her? That had these girls constantly following her home like a lost puppy. Surely, it's not her sunshine personality.

My mind flicks back to her hands, my eyes still glued to the tv. Her long and rough, calloused fingers must be the magic touch.

Ellie hummed at my response unconvincingly. The light from the tv illuminated the freckles on her cheeks and nose.

"The fuck are we watching anyways? Some cheesy reality show? Wait- is this the gay one?"

Ellie's voice piqued in interest, her back shimming further back into the cushion to her comfortable.

"Um- yeah, why?"

I ask, side eyeing her, not really understanding what the big deal was.

********

The big deal was; Ellie never knew if you were into girls; or not. She tried to figure it out for years, carefully observing the people you brought home for school. You didn't make it easy, and truthfully you were kinda a loner, only having a few close friends that you'd invite over.

Although there was that one time; you came home from school with a different girl that Ellie had never seen before, and when Ellie tried introducing herself, you quickly took the mystery girl's hand in yours and ran upstairs, locking the two of you in your bedroom.

Ellie fought herself over it for a long time, trying to picture you with a girl. She wondered if you had kissed another girl, held another girl's hand, and it drove Ellie fucking insane.

Ellie had a dark secret that she wouldn't dare say out loud and definitely would never let you know about it.

Ellie started thinking about you a lot after you turned 16, and they were almost never innocent thoughts. When you turned 16 it was like Aphrodite came down to earth and blessed you herself.

Ellie wasn't proud that she had these thoughts, I mean, you were her little sis after all, but it didn't stop her from picturing you whenever she fucked random college girls in the fraternity bathrooms.

********

Ellie shushed my question, motioning for me to turn it up and I do.

Four episodes in, both of us were dead silent as we watched the horror that is reality tv dating shows. We shared glances at each other whenever one of the cast members said something outrageous, but other than that, we just watched and enjoyed the presence of one another.

It was getting late, my eyes grew heavy and harder to keep open.

"Alright- it's gettin' late, and I have to shower still. Pick this up tomorrow?" I pause the tv and stand up with a yawn.

Ellie pleaded for one episode, holding her hands in a prayer. I stand my ground, promising her we can binge it tomorrow and that seemed to work.

We go up the stairs, Ellie following close behind as we mumble goodnights to each other before we go into our designated bedrooms.

I rummage through my suitcase, pulling out a over sized t-shirt and underwear.

I turn on the light in the bathroom, closing the door, but not all the way. It was a bad habit that I never grew out of, leaving the bathroom door open a few inches whenever I took a shower or bath. I did it because growing up, I was terrified of the bathroom, scared I'd get locked in and somehow the lights go out, and the grudge lady would be hiding in the shower.

I slip off my jeans and my tank, dropping them to the floor and turn on the water. I wait, holding my hand under the stream until the temperature was up to my standards.

I get in, letting the hot water soothe my aching muscles from sitting in a car all day. I felt the tenseness of my shoulders relax and my heart rate slowing down to a more relaxed pace.

***********

Ellie laid in bed, her arm folding under her head as the springs in the mattress poked her back. She scrolled through various apps, checking social media, playing games and repeating.

The sound of the water running in the room down the hall could be heard faintly in Ellie's old bedroom. The walls were still painted a dark shade of blue, with doodles of planets and rockets hand painted by Ellie herself.

Joel couldn't bring himself to paint over them.

The joint (or a few joints) Ellie smoked after dinner; was starting to kick in and made her crave some sort of barbaric concoction.

Pickles with peanut butter, maybe?

Ellie sighed, lifting her myself from the bed lazily, scratching the back of her neck before she turned the nob.

Ellie entered the long stretch of the hall, passing your bedroom the illuminated with a soft pink hue. Coming up on the bathroom, she paused.

At first, she wanted to tease you, to scold you for still keeping the bathroom open when you showered. You weren't a little kid anymore, and you needed to grow up in Ellie's mind.

On the other hand, Ellie was intrigued. She found herself peeking through the gap, the steamed glass door of the shower made it hard to make out details, but it was enough.

She felt wrong about it. One part of her was pulling her body away, telling her to stop looking, but the other part of her (the more fucked up part) couldn't look away.

Her eyes trailed up the profile of your body; pausing momentarily at points of interest.

Ellie didn't know it at the time, but she was biting down on her lip hard as she looked at the curve of your ass, plump and full, and the way your tits sat so high and perky.

Her hand coming down to cup her cunt, rolling her wrist against her clit. A moan escapes her lips as she continued to watch.

The sound of the water shutting off made Ellie snap back to her senses. She quickly backed away from the door and as quickly and quietly, as she could, made her way back to her bedroom and shut the door.

She fell into the mattress, taking a deep and shaky breath as she realizes what she's done. A wave of guilt washed over her- no, more like a tsunami. You were her step sisters, and even worse you've know eachother since Ellie was 14 and you were 13. You practically grew up together, but how would've Ellie known you'd grow into that.

Ellie couldn't deny she thought you were beautiful. Not just the fake, superficial type of beauty, but naturally, you were breathtaking to her, and your body matched.

As Ellie conflicted with herself, she continued to picture you. She imagined what you looked like underneath her, what you sounded like when she was splitting you open.

The guilt was replaced by lust and hormones, but mostly; lust.

Her hand crept down to the hemp of her boxers, slipping inside. Her other hand grabbed the bottom of her tank and brought it up to hold between her teeth- leaving her breasts exposed.

Ellie's fingers glided along her folds, coating them in her slick. She teased her entrance, rubbing gentle circles around her clit.

"Fuuuck- look what you do t' me, y/n" Ellie stifled a moan, dropping the fabric from her teeth as her middle finger sunk into her pussy, pumping in and out, slowly.

She moaned your name; over and over, adding another finger and quickening the pace.

The scene was honestly pathetic. Ellie's sweats and boxers tugged down to her knees, not bothering to take them off completely. Her breasts were the only thing holding the tank up, her hardened nipples- red and swollen as she harshly tugged at them.

"Fuu- your s-so wet, baby. You like when I fuck you like this? Huh?" Ellie babbled and stuttered, gritting through her teeth as she reached closer to her peak.

She pictured this is what you felt like as she sunk her fingers inside, curling against the spongy walls, hitting the spot that made you squirm with each pump.

She wanted to hear you beg, wanted to hear you say her name over and over until it didn't sound like a word anymore.

"Fuu-fuckin' bitch- d-dirty fuckin' whore-" Ellie curses, jaw slacked and her eyebrows furrowed upwards. Her rhythm became jagged as her hips bucked upwards, fucking herself through her orgasm.

Ellie panted, sprawled across the bed as bolts of electricity continued to send shock waves through her body.

Her inner thighs glistened, her breasts malled and violated.

It was official, Ellie had hit a new level of fucked up, but that's okay as long as you never find out.

It's not like you had your ear pressed against the wall as soon as you heard strange noises coming from your step sisters bedroom.

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cheriladycl01 · 4 months

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My love, is mine all mine - Max Verstappen x Norris! Reader x Charles Leclerc Part 2

Plot: Norris' Twin sister is also a driver in the 2021 line up and is in her rookie era. Not only do the commentators struggle to now talk about the pair in the race, but they also struggle to talk about talent. What happens when two drivers find her eye-catching.

Credit to countingstars-17 for the GIF

After you'd spent the week at home you travelled to France, you asked McLaren to set you in a different hotel from the other drivers. You found one that was cheaper and still within a decent distance from the race track.

Your sisters in your groupchat that didn't have your bothers in, had texted you telling you Lando was getting worried you wouldn't be showing up for this race. It was Thursday and normally drivers would come to the paddock for media duties but when he came it was just him doing stuff for the F1 YouTube and being pestered by the McLaren social media teams for content.

"Zac where is she, you guys wont tell me and I'm worried she wont be here for practice which starts in 20 minutes!" Lando asks Zac whose in sat in hospitality having a pre-race coffee.

"As far as I'm aware, she's already in her car getting ready for the practice session ... so I'd get yourself down there now so you can get a good time Lando" he smiles, Lando rushed to the garage Zac slowly trailing behind him, wanting to get to the garage to get a set of headphones and sit with the race engineers.

"Y/N can you hear?" you hear through your in ears.

"Loud and clear, let me know when i can leave the pit" you say shuffling down in your seat to test the pedals.

"Nico, the pedals are feeling a little stiff, its like there's no traction" you complain as your directed out onto the pit lane.

"Okay, just do a slow lap, testing the breaks and make sure the throttle is all okay. Then we'll see if we need to bring the car in quickly before a flying lap.

As you'd gone round on a normal lap, it was determined that there was an issue with the breaks, the minute you'd tried to do the flying lap your car had major under steer. You'd managed to keep it out the gravel but you had spun out. You were called back to the pits and only placed P16.

You slammed your wheel onto the bonnet, and the engineers all immediately started to work on your car. You talked with them helping them out.

You spied Lando's car in the corner of your eyes being pulled into his half of the garage.

"Y/N hey" he says jumping out the car pulling him helmet off.

"Kinda busy trying to fix this trash can of a car right now Lando, later" you say not even sparing him a glance. Grumbles come from the mechanics making you whisper an apology as they jokingly scowl at you.

Was it petty that you weren't speaking to your brother, yes.

Was it petty that you were trying to get him to have a spoon of his own medicine for the way he'd treated you in Azerbaijan, yes.

Were you going to stop right now? Nope!

"Oh, erm okay well I'm going to go grab something to eat before the next practice" he smiles.

"Cool" you nod a smile, before kneeling down pointing something out to the mechanic that didn't look quite right.

"I'll be back in a bit, will the car be ready for FP2?" you ask.

"Should be, just needs some greasing and tightening. Trust us you'll be flying out there in no time!" the head mechanic says and you smile nodding softly before walking out towards the rest of the motorhomes.

You walked past, shyly waving to the drivers she encountered. Sky had seen her but were already busy interviewing Christian Horner and Toto Wolff who were currently talking about the championship this year and Mercedes rough start to the season in Bahrain.

"Y/N?" a voice asks from a table outside the Red Bull hospitality.

"Oh! Max, hey how have you been" you exclaim crossing over the Sky cameras who unbeknownst to you followed you for later review. You pull him into a hug, happy to finally see someone on the grid who hadn't upset you in the last few weeks.

"I'm good but i think the actual question is, are you okay?" he asks rubbing up and down your arm.

"Yeah, I just don't really know how to even talk to Lando about all of this, he's never not been there for an achievement of mine up until now. The team's strategy was shit, and I got us more points passing Lando, i was on the fresher tires, I had DRS i don't understand why they wouldn't want me to overtake" you complain, you really genuinely couldn't understand it.

It wasn't like this in Formula 2.

"You'll come to learn, that people don't like being my team-mate because im golden boy. I was the hot shot that Horner took a gamble on and he won jackpot. It's never easy being the second driver on a team to a golden boy" he advises, making you look down tears in your eyes.

Is that all Zac thought of you? The secondary to your golden boy hot shot brother.

Well that just wouldn't fly, you'll show them that your made of more and that you are worthy of sharing the seat with your brother.

"You know, keep it up Schat, Horner's been keeping an eye on you. So have Mercedes and Ferrari" Max whispers leaning in and holding your waist. You gasp as he leans back looking at you nodding before wandering off and into the Red Bull motorhome.

You check your phone for the time seeing that you really should make your way back to the McLaren garage to see if your car is ready.

"We didn't talk" you hear from behind you and a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you back to them.

Charles

"I don't want to talk to you Charles" you grunt shrugging his arm off.

"Why not?" he asks looking over you.

"I think you know why, just concentrate on FP2 Charles" you say, for the first time you see a sort of desperation in his eyes. It's almost as if he came here with the intention to say something to you, but he also doesn't want to admit it.

"Y/N... wait" he starts again but you continue walking. You manage to get back to the motorhome and see Lando sat in the hospitality, he was with his personal trainer Jon and then the performance engineer Jarv.

You walk past them and here Jarv say something to your brother.

"Go follow her, you need to sort this out before the race"

"She doesn't want to talk to me, I've tried" he groans as you wait behind the door just in earshot of them.

"You call earlier in the garage trying? Jheez man" Jon laughs before getting up and discarding of his food tray.

"Your right!" Lando sighs before jumping up to come and find you. You start to walk away so it didn't look like you were listening in to their conversation.

"Y/N, please can we talk" Lando says stopping you right by the coffee cart.

"Mmmmm"

"Look, I was terrible the other day. Your my twin and we've shared everything together. I- I'm sorry i wasn't there to celebrate with you. It's just annoying when Jon's telling me that you've been told not to go for the overtake and then you do. I see now that you taking over worked better for the team but i cant help but be upset" he tries but you look at him in shock, why on earth was he making this moment, this apology about him and how he was affected.

"How are you still making this about you?" you scoff.

"What what do you mean, I'm explaining why i wasn't there..."

"By saying that I've upset you, when I'm the person you've affected. Do you even know what they have been saying about me in articles because of this whole thing with you and Charles? I'm being told I'm a shit driver and i shouldn't have my seat and that my own brother and multiple other drivers agree... I'm being told im a danger to the sport and that I wont have a seat come next year!" you sigh, knowing that he had a right to be upset about you overtaking him, but it shouldn't be at you.

"I'm sorry, I know I ruined it. I should've celebrated with you! Its my fault" he says, before pulling you into a hug. You hug him back, your shoulders sagging into it. Your brother was always your other half, you guys were two peas in a pod. It broke your heart when he left you behind in F2 before going to F1 in 2019. So this year, being the first year that you were back driving with your brother it was special for you.

"It's not like I wont have other podiums to celebrate this year" you jab him making him laugh.

"Oh yeah, not if i have anything to say about it!" he jokes as you both start walking back to the garage.

"I'm still upset though, just so you know. But I forgive you" you smile as you both get back to the cars.

"Hey, how's the car looking?" you ask the people around your car.

"You'll be good to go, breaks are sorted and its looking good!"

And that was true, you came P3 in FP2.

You didn't have a good night sleep, thinking about Charles and how he's tried to talk to you today, how you'd made up with Lando, and you kept asking yourself if it was too quick. But what was in your mind the most was Max and what he'd told you and how he'd been so nice to you over the last few months.

FP3 the next day was worse and you came P10, which then set the mood for Qualifying, where you finished P10 which would mean that your are in the middle for starting the next day.

Lando was in P8 meaning he was directly in front of you, you were hoping you could get a slipstream from him, and overtake Fernando on the start.

By the end of the French Grand Prix you and your brother both simultaneously moved up 4 places ending with him in P5 and you in P6, Zac was happy as you'd managed to stir Ferrari and get ahead both of them.

You were walking to your car, when you notice a sleek Ferrari next to your McLaren and a familiar man leaning against it.

"Charles I really cant deal with this, the interviews have tired me out. I'll see you in Styria!" you say, clicking the keys to open your car.

"Y/N please I need to apologize" he says grabbing at you wrist again turning you round.

"Charles, look. I forgave Lando for not being at my podium and yelling at me, but you actively told me I didn't deserve my seat when i've had to work twice as hard for it than anyone on the grid. So to be told that its undeserved is horrible because this is all I've ever wanted..." you say tears brimming your eyes.

"I'm sorry I'm so so sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me, but I'll think I'll regret this forever if I don't do this" he says before grabbing your cheeks with his hands, one sliding down to your neck before leaning in and placing his lips against yours.

You kiss back, it's more out of anger, you weren't sure why you actually kissed him back. After the initial shock you pulled away, your hand slipping in between you too to push him away.

"Charles what the hell" you shout, looking at him eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, but the reason I get so annoyed with you is because I've had a crush on you for years. At first I hated that you always were better than me, I got more aggressive and you were the safer driver back then, so you'd give me room let me pass. I knew I'd never have a chance with you, getting you attention was easier when I teased you, but i guess as i got older i got more sour at you, and how everyone seemed to adore you and grab your attention apart from me" he reasons now holding her wrist again.

"Charles, you cant, you cant do that" you cry.

"What, I cant admit what I've been feeling for you for years. Y/N please" he begs, the puppy eyes looking down at you as you shrunk yourself.

"What's going on over here" Max asks coming over looking between you and Charles, you turn away so that he doesn't see the tears in your eyes, wiping them with the sleeve of your orange McLaren rain jacket.

"Nothing Max" you say before turning back round smiling at the both of them.

"Come on Y/N. I know you better than that" Max said but you decided to stay silent.

"Is he bothering you again? Charles, just leave her the fuck alone. We spoke about this after Azerbaijan..." Max says pushing him away from you.

"Max don't! Its fine I promise, I'll see you both in Austria okay?" you say getting into the car. You sit there for a second, contemplating what the hell just happened before you realize both the drivers are still stood there watching you.

What. The. Hell.

A/N: I don't know if i like this, it feels like I made her and Lando make up too quickly, and Charles felt kinda quick. But for future ideas in this series, her and Lando making up now means room for more angst in the future *wink,wink*

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @stupidandunnecessary @clayra-g @daemyratwst @honey-belden @moonypixel @lauralarsen @vader-is-hot @ironcowboycopnickel @itsjustkhaos @the-untamed-soul @beebo86 @happylittlereader @ziejustme @lou-larcher5 @thewulf @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @chillyleclerc @chanthereader @annoyingmoonballoon @summissss @evieepepi08 @havaneseoger08 @celesteblack08 @gulphulp @fandom1ruined2me @celebstories @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhh @georgeparisole @dakotatankbig @youcannotcancelquidditch @zzonsbeek @tallbrownhairsarcastic @mellowarcadefun @ourteenagetragedy @otako5811 @countingstacksandpanicattacks @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @hopexcroc @mirrorball-6 @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @bigsimperika @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @lilypadlover @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @the-fem1n1ne-urge @21stcenturytaegi @dark-night-sky-99 @spideybv28 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic

#f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 x you #formula 1 #formula one #formula one fanfiction #charles leclerc #charles lecrelc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen #lando norris imagine #lando norris #f1 fandom #max verstappen fanfic

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fic-over-cannon · 5 months

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A Soft Touch (pt. 1)

jason todd x f!reader (implied)

summary: when the pit brought jason back, it heightened all of his senses. he learns to live with that.

tags: mild body horror, sensory overload, mentions of offscreen violence, implied future relationship

rated teen | wc: 1.9k

a/n: dedicated to @jasonsmirrorball my beloved, who was just as excited about this version of jason as i was. part one is mostly a retrospective about how super senses would have impacted jason. the romance part of this story (and nsfw) will be in part 2 coming soon!

link to part 2, ao3 link

The Red Hood’s helmet isn’t just a precaution against an exposed secret identity or another piece of armour. It’s a necessity. It filters out sound, keeps out pungent smells and the associated tastes, controls light, and can restrict range of vision. For a regular person the helmet would be sensory deprivation of the worst kind. For Jason, it is the lifeline that keeps him alive to fight another day.

If anyone had asked Jason’s opinion before throwing him into the Lazarus Pit (not that he was in a fit state to respond, mind you) he would have told them that trusting a puddle of primordial green goo to know the limitations of the human body was incredibly stupid. Having come out of the experience irrevocably altered, he would point to his own body as an example of how much the pit didn’t know about humanity. Every scar he received before death had been removed (notably, the scars from after death were left untouched). He was over six feet tall when childhood malnutrition should have left him a good five inches shorter. His strength, rather than the result of packed on muscle and a good diet was definitely being supplemented by something unnatural. For a body built like a fridge, he was ridiculously light on his feet and agile. The physics of him just don’t make sense. Yet despite all of these changes, undoubtedly the worst was how all five of his senses had been heightened.

The Lazarus Pit burned through Jason Todd and woke him up screaming. It was the feel of it that was the worst sensation, the one that brought him up to consciousness first. The rough weave of his training pants grating against his skin like wire, clinging to his raw flesh with the dampness of the pit. Green water, oddly viscous and acrid, drenching his skin and burning like a grease fire. It drips down his nose and throat, the taste of tar and blood seared into his tongue, the scent of burnt hair and flesh imprinted into his nose. It drips into his eyes and brands them. The dark cave only lit by the green glow of the pool now so bright like it holds the light of one hundred stars. Burning and drowning and being flayed alive, Jason has no care for noise save that it deafens him. For those first few moments of awakening, Jason may as well have been truly deaf for the thunderous roar of nothingness in his ears. A rubber band snaps and at once his hearing is another ice pick to the brain. Voices that should have been a whisper ring through his skull and reverberate. The footsteps of shadows several floors away staccato through him. It is a living hell made worse by a screaming that won’t shut up. It is only when a slap cracks across his face (it feels like all the skin on his cheek has sloughed off) and the scream trails off to pitiful whines does Jason dimly recognize that the screaming was him. Two pairs of hands under his arms haul him to standing and it hurts oh it hurts. Iron meat hooks digging and clawing their way into him until he is too pinned to slip away. That is the start to the illustrious second life of Jason Todd, newly gifted.

As much training is dedicated to making Jason a better warrior, twice that is given over to training him to survive his own senses. It is rough, brutal work, dictated by trainers that have never felt the pit’s bite. It destroys whatever sanity he might have had left after his rebirth and he is grateful. He is remade with control, no longer a pitiful broken mind tied to a falling star, bracing to burn up on impact. He no longer aches at the feel of fabric on his skin, can smile and hold a conversation without wanting to claw the other person’s heart out for beating too loudly, can drink wine and not taste every molecule. He is so very grateful. But it is not enough. Talia warns him, in what might be her first true act of uncomplicated kindness to him, that those who have survived the pit don’t do well in places where life is concentrated.

Returning to Gotham is not the triumph he pictured. Within minutes of touching down he is on a safe house floor convulsing from sensory overload. The city, with its people and the machinery that houses them, is too much of everything. There are so many voices overlaid with construction and traffic, the chemical rot of the harbour suffocating him, sewage and putrid fish thick on his tongue, fluorescent lights tearing through the soft space of his eyelids. Gunshots and sirens and the tang of old blood. It takes every one of his years of training to stop seizing. It takes iron will like he hadn’t known since the early days to come back to himself. It takes days before he can control himself enough to come face to face with the shadows Talia sent with him. His first order: to bring him a motorcycle helmet. The helmet is black and stinks of cigarette smoke, visor slightly scratched. It is the most powerful relief Jason has ever known. His plans are delayed by months as he figures out the specifications for the Red Hood’s helmet. Design after design prototyped and discarded. The helmet helps, but Jason refuses to let it become his crutch. He practices, minutes at first and then hours, retraining himself to be able to exist outside the confines of the helmet.

He fails in his revenge against Batman and the Replacement, the insidious demands of his heightened senses unraveling all his patience and planning. Sends him into a murderous frenzy that nearly ends in another dead Robin. Ribs broken and face beaten in by his own father, all Jason can concentrate on is the sensation of drying blood flaking on his skin. Delirious, he thinks, so this is what they meant about the killing rage the pit hands out. It is only by the thinnest of chances that nobody dies at all and that his senses remain a secret.

Reconciliation is hard earned. He never quite gets around to telling anyone about his new ‘gifts’. Let’s them think him much more observant and tactically sound then he really is. Learns to identify the joyful thwip of Dick’s grappling gun, the steady drumming of Tim’s fingers on a keyboard. Jason memorizes the smell of Alfred’s hugs, a mixture of silver polish and baked goods. Starts to categorize all the different ways Bruce’s eyes on him feel physically.

Life doesn’t stop when his revenge does either. Jason rents an apartment as his semi-permanent safe house. Consciously decides to make it a home and learns the art of the DIY renovation. Blackout curtains go up first, followed by a soft blue on the walls (Jason may be sensitive to light now but he still can’t stand total darkness). Sound proofing comes next. He’s had a few close calls when the upstairs neighbour blasted music a little too loud and had had to restrain himself from killing them. The lumpy mattress gets replaced with memory foam and new sheets at a ridiculously high silk thread count he can’t quite believe he shelled out for. Through trial and error he finds a laundry detergent that doesn’t make him nauseous and celebrates with all the loads he’d put off. He finds joy in cooking again, running through all the recipes Alfred had taught him and appreciating them more for the new way the flavours tasted on his tongue. To his chagrin, he also discovers he hates the lingering smell of cooked food in his apartment after he’s done eating. A range hood fixes that problem but causes a new one with the rattle of the fan. Sound cancelling headphones quickly become his new best friend. Piece by piece his little oasis comes together.

Eventually Jason learns to share his little home. Stilted conversations in door frames turn into invitations for a drink turn into semi-regular dinners. Family movie nights start happening before Jason realizes it, all of the Robins, former and current, curled up in his living room. In the top kitchen cupboard on the left, a shelf gets dedicated to popcorn seasonings. Extra throw blankets get added to the sofa after Tim makes a remark about never making it through a movie night because the blankets are too comfy. Dick will show up cheerfully demanding a brotherly talk but Jason has realized that with the strategic application of cereal he can avoid talking about his own emotions. Alfred visits regularly, brings his own tea and a new recipe for the two of them to try together. Alfred never leaves without remarking on how well Jason keeps his home (and Jason never fails to flush at the compliment). Strangely enough it is when Bruce comes knocking that Jason feels the most sure footed in his apartment. Invites Bruce in politely and goes through the motions of hosting. It baffles Bruce a little, to see the Red Hood so domestic but it soothes the part of him that sat up all night with Jaylad when he was sickly. Bruce, in his own way, makes it clear that Jason will always be part of the family no matter where he chooses to live.

This latest point of reconciliation couldn’t have been timed any better. Only a few days later Damian turns up on the doorstep of the Wayne Manor. Bruce brings him by the apartment to introduce Damian to Jason, hoping that the two most recent additions will at least get along better than Damian and Tim’s first shaky interaction. It goes a little too well. Damian, unused to the sensory nightmare that is Gotham, takes two steps into Jason’s apartment and demands to stay with his big brother. Jason, intimately aware of how uncomfortable the transition from the orderly League compound to Gotham was, is only too happy to see Damian too. It takes a whispered fight of yes, I knew him, and no, I didn’t know who his father was before Bruce eventually has to concede that Damian will at least be spending some time in Jason’s home. The split transition makes establishing a life in Gotham much easier for Damian than it was for Jason. Jason can at least recognizes the signs of sensory overload, can guide Damian through it without the cruel methods of his former instructors. In caring for Damian, Jason comes to realize that he deserved worlds better than the torture disguised as teaching that he received. In preparing Damian to be a part of society, he realizes that he wants more out of life than being a controlled weapon too.

Jason waits, and he plans. After all, if he could design and execute a months’ long campaign to take over the Gotham underworld, surely he’s capable of getting a social life. He picks his first target with care, intending only to get used to being around people outside of scripted settings and his helmet. He chooses a small library two blocks from the apartment with an attached coffee shop, sets himself little goals for each day with the option to bail as soon as it becomes too much. In the span of two weeks he’s ready to move from using the library to sitting in the coffee shop. It’s a daunting task. The smell of the coffee beans, the hiss of the milk frother, and the quiet rumble of conversation prove to be too much for him on his first attempt. It’s as he’s leaving that a bright laugh floats above the din and stirs his curiosity. The next day has him right back at the coffee shop staring up at the chalk board menu. Sweat is starting to bead on his forehead and he could swear he can feel the vibrations of the coffee grinder on his skin. He is just about getting ready to leave when he hears the laugh again. Turns around and the owner of it is standing right behind him (how did she get so close without him noticing?!) beaming up at him.

And oh.

#jason todd imagine #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fic #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻#jason todd

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juletheghoul · 27 days

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Castaways (Part 1)

AN: Before I get into the notes for this - I want to say a quick thank you to everyone who took the time to send me a message / comment on my post, it meant a lot to me. 💜💜💜 As for this story, I started writing it in Sept of 2022, after watching the Harrison Ford movie, Six Days, Seven Nights lol. I had a lot of it down pretty quickly but eventually, I stopped. Now that new ideas aren't as bountiful as they once were, I started combing through all of the half-finished works in my docs and I fell back in love with this one. Hopefully you enjoy it. I have an ending planned out so there will definitely be a part 2! Shout out to @wheresarizona for betaing and just general wonderfulness, to @just-here-for-the-moment for screaming at me through comments in this doc. Enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader (Princess as a nickname)

Warnings; C o m p e t e n c y - a very brief snake…encounter?-piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy with gusto (when doesn't he), creampie, longing, yearning, a helicopter crash (nothing too graphic), reader is spoiled at first and generally kind of snobby- enemies to lovers? Bit of a slow burn! let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 13k 😅

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

The click of your heels sounded throughout the airy hangar with a purpose, the echoing sound of it heralding your journey to give someone—anyone hell.

A quick flick of your wrist reminds you how late you already were for the retreat booked in your private slice of paradise; the private jet your father paid a fortune for had made an emergency stop in Puerto Rico- some nonsense about a storm.

Unacceptable.

An imperious sigh leaves your mouth -not a single person to lay into anywhere in sight, and it leaves you no choice but to head outside to see if there is a plane you could commandeer.

—

He wipes the grease onto the legs of his well-worn work coveralls, his previous scowl gone and replaced with a triumphant smile - finally got that fucking bolt off-

“Excuse me-” He turns toward the sound and is greeted by a very annoyed-looking woman. “Hi, do you know where I can find a pilot? There’s no one in the hangar.” She drags a very expensive-looking suitcase behind her with one hand, the other holding a ridiculously large hat onto her head.

“Hi, yes I’m a pilot - most of the staff have gone home, a big storm coming soon-”

“Perfect, can I hire you to fly me to this island?” Her fingers flew across the no-doubt latest model of smartphone in her hands - ignoring the shocked expression on his face at being so rudely interrupted. “This one here, I need to be there like three hours ago, and I would be there now if we hadn’t stopped here - you know where this is, right? Can you take me?” She all but shoves the phone into his face.

“No.” He carefully moves her manicured hand away from his face, and a tiny, cruel little part of him enjoys the shock in her expression - he very quickly gets the impression that this girl is not used to hearing the word. “As I was saying - everyone has gone home, a lot of people were grounded here, myself included. There is a big thunderstorm coming. Not safe to fly until it passes. Shouldn’t last too long - a quick squall - come back tomorrow, and I’ll happily fly you there.” He then turns to continue his work.

“Money is no object, but I need to leave now,” she says it through a huffed breath, and his eyebrows raise.

“And yet, my answer is still no.” He’s annoyed now. In truth, it was a fairly quick flight - he knew the island she’d shown him, had made the trip before, and it would be less than an hour, but her attitude was a black mark against her. Her phone trills then, a cheery tone, momentarily snatching her attention from him.

“Hi, Dad, yeah, I know. I’m at the hangar, looking for a ride.” She taps her foot, and it sets his teeth on edge. “There is a pilot here, but he says he won’t fly me.” She narrows her eyes at him when he turns to look at her, listening to the other half of the conversation he wasn’t privy to. “I’ll tell him- Sorry-” She inspects his name tag, “Francisco, my father says if you get me to the island within the hour, he’ll make it worth your while. Name your price.”

“I don’t know what part of it isn’t safe isn’t registering-” She raises her voice and speaks over him.

“He’ll pay you ten thousand dollars.” Her tone is loud but bored. “Besides - the skies are gorgeous - I’m sure we can make it before anything happens.” She waits a moment, “Plus another five grand when you land. And you can have accommodations until tomorrow - room service, the works. Just please - get me there.” Her eyes are hopeful, and for a brief moment, he acknowledges how pretty she is, or - would be, if she wasn’t such an insufferable princess.

He knew he should have said no. Knew he should have turned her down and followed the guidelines, but that kind of money would change his life. Change their lives- it would have been insane for him to turn it down.

“Fine.” He relents, shoving down the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach. “I’ll be your pilot. We’ll be out of here in ten minutes.” She almost jumps with joy, and he can’t hide the annoyed expression on his face.

“Done - okay, I’ll be there soon, Dad! Bye.”

He was covered in grease.

You had to remind yourself not to wrinkle your nose at him. You supposed he could be handsome, in a scruffy, working man way, but that's beside the point. He was your saving grace right now, and that counted for a lot.

He fiddles with the engine of the helicopter for a moment more while he leaves you to wrestle your suitcase in by yourself, thankfully without breaking a nail.

“Alright - just going to perform a couple of checks, and we’ll be in the air.” He got in and began flicking switches, turning knobs, and checking over all manner of gauges while you made yourself as comfortable as was possible in the cramped little aircraft. It was hard, though, with your suitcase practically digging into your back behind you.

It’s fine. I’ll just have to get a massage once I land.

“Okay, we’re off.” He has his headset on, and you are in the air within a few moments. That, unfortunately, seemed to be the end of your good luck.

Whether by some cruel design, by the fates or gods, or whatever entity dictated the events of your life - it didn’t take twenty minutes in the air for the sky to turn a foreboding gray.

“That doesn’t look good,” he says, the words loud enough to be heard over the noise, his eyes quickly scanning the horizon, no doubt taking in the dark clouds flanking either side of the already rickety helicopter.

“It came out of nowhere.” One minute, the sky was blue, and the next, lightning forked the sky in the distance.

“No, it didn’t - I told you a storm was coming. This is too dangerous - I’m going to have to turn around for our safety.” He maneuvers the controls, and you have no choice but to agree despite your annoyance.

It all happened so fast.

Something strikes the aircraft, the sound of it booming in your ears so loud it hurts, and then he’s frantic. Manically pressing buttons and calling through the radio, but from the frustrated and frankly terrified expression, no one is answering.

“Fuck, tighten your seatbelt, we’re going down!” He grits his teeth, and all of a sudden, you are spinning, a scream being ripped from your throat - your heart falling out of your ass. “Impact coming - brace yourself!” he screams before the world goes black.

Someone is making noise, a low groaning noise that pulls him out from the depths of unconsciousness, he’s only mildly surprised to realize it is him.

The helicopter - his helicopter wasn’t making any noise, which was bad.

Under normal circumstances, it would be broadcasting out a signal beacon that would bring in a rescue team, but as it stood right now - without blinking lights or a working radio - it had gone completely silent.

Lighting must have fried it. Fuck.

He took stock of his situation. Luckily, he doesn’t feel any injuries aside from horrible whiplash. No blood, no broken bones. A softer groan comes from the woman beside him; she’s still out, and he couldn’t see any injuries- he’d know when she woke up.

I could kill you right now.

He thought the words, sighing loudly to himself before finding a way out of the cockpit. He’d managed to move most of what he had in the helicopter out onto the sand by the time she woke.

“Jesus Christ - what the hell happened?” She stumbles out, barely managing to stop herself from eating shit in the process, unfortunately.

“What happened is the storm I warned you about many times caught us in the air and grounded us here.” He’s laying out his supplies, lengths of rope, his toolbox, and empty water jugs. He has a small case with a flare gun, an emergency kit filled with first aid supplies, and a massive tarp. There are a few more things to go through, but it is important they find a source of freshwater soon, or they won’t last two days, especially with the heat making his clothes stick to his body.

She sighs loudly, struggling to make her way through the sand in those ridiculous heels she’s wearing

“And now we’re stuck here, on an island when, where I should be, is home with my-“

“Can’t you call mayday or something? My father is expecting me. I’m sure he’ll have an army looking for us.” She’s digging through her purse frantically, ignoring the scathing look he’s giving her.

Spoiled little brat, you only care about yourself, huh?

“Wow. You know what? That’s a great idea! Why the hell didn’t I think of that?” He can’t hold back. “Oh! I know, it’s because we were struck by lightning, and it fried everything, so whatever army your father sends won’t find us -there is no signal to hone in on.” He scowls at her, annoyed that she isn’t paying attention to him even now. “Doesn’t help that a lot of these islands that are usually full of tourists are uninhabited after the hurricane that hit a few months ago.”

“So we’re stuck here???” Her eyes are wild as they look past him, to the beach just beyond, and then to the thick greenery behind them. “This cannot be happening right now,” she spoke to herself.

“Where the fuck is my phone??” She moves and makes her way back into the cockpit, all but ripping the aircraft apart before- “Fuck! You have got to be fucking kidding me! Don’t you have some kind of satellite phone or something??” She’s tapping at the deeply damaged screen, it completely destroyed.

He couldn’t help but bark out cruel laughter.

“I don’t know what planet you’re on. People - regular people don’t just have satellite phones, sweetheart.” He got up from his place in the sand, making sure to put the flares back in the helicopter.

“Great. Just great.” She sighs loudly, “So we’re stuck here. Do you even know where here is?” She fishes into her bag once more, pulling out a bottle of what looks to be sunscreen, and squeezing out some to spread over her exposed skin.

“No. I don’t, but the heat is going to kill us if we don’t find water soon. Grab one of those jugs, and let’s go find water. You might want to change your shoes.” He pushes her suitcase at her, ignoring the shocked look on her face. “Chop chop, princess, let’s move.”

This couldn’t be happening, this could not be happening!

Right now, you should have been mingling with Louis, the gorgeous, billionaire bachelor your father invited to your private resort. You could almost picture it, the classy yet sexy outfit you’d be wearing while you flirted over a drink by the infinity pool. Broadening your horizons and nailing down the rich husband you deserve.

Instead, you’re here - stuck in the sand with the world's grumpiest pilot, trying desperately to get your phone to work, but it’s no use.

You can almost see the frantic look on your mother's face now that it was obvious that you hadn’t made it at the scheduled time, she and your father were probably coordinating with the military right this second, with the Navy.

What the fuck am I going to do-

The jug hits your lap, scaring you half to death.

“Come on, princess, let’s get moving. We have to find fresh water before we die of dehydration out here.” He’s standing a few feet away, staring at you with his perpetual scowl. “Change your shoes, and let’s go.”

“What’s wrong with my shoes?” They were pretty sensible as far as your sandals went, respectable heels, and relatively comfortable. His scowl deepens.

“You cannot stumble around the island in those, you’ll break an ankle, and I am not fucking dealing with that.” His eyes narrow. “Tell me you brought a pair of runners in that giant trunk.”

“Of course I did,” your tone is icy as you get up with a huff. You quickly changed into them, and then you were off.

The terrain got more and more treacherous the further you got from the powdery white sand of the beach. Dirt and bramble gave way to thick, almost jungle-like vegetation, making the trek harder and harder as time slogged by.

The sound of running water greets the two of you like a siren song, spurring your tired, sweat-soaked body to move quicker, and the sight that meets you once you break the dense treeline could've made you moan. You jump into the water to cool your heated skin, ignoring the warning from Francisco.

“You should get out of there.” He’s at the edge of the clearish water, filling the jugs quickly.

He seems to be determined to infuse his sour attitude into everything, your mouth opened to tell him to relax when something brushes past your leg. At first, you think it might be a piece of underwater flora, but it becomes apparent very quickly that it’s something far worse.

“Francisco.” His eyes met yours, “Francisco, something just swam into my shorts, I-I think it’s a snake.” Your voice trembles slightly, hands itching to pull whatever it was out, but his voice cuts through the urge.

“Don’t move- are you sure it’s a snake?” He put the jugs down beside him, moving closer to you, descending slowly into the water.

“Yes, It’s coiling around my thigh, moving up - I need it out right now, I wanna just grab it-“ Your head tilts down, but he stops you.

“Don’t move! It could be venomous.” He wades into the water towards you slowly, too slowly. Your heart’s racing, hands shaking as you wait for him to reach you.

“Help me, get it out, get it out!” your voice is almost manic, desperation colouring every single inch of you.

“Okay, okay, calm - deep breath.” You followed his example as best you could, trying yet failing to ignore the slithering against your skin. “Slowly pull your waistband away from your body, and I’ll see if I can grab it,” his tone had lowered, a soothing timbre reminding you for a moment of how a teacher would speak to a student.

It helps.

You did as he asked, pulling at the waistband of your shorts, all thoughts of propriety forgotten, and within a moment, his hand was shoved down deep - a rather large hand fighting with whatever it was that had made camp in your pants.

He bit his lip in concentration, bodily pulling you towards him as he struggled. A moment later, he was raising it up triumphantly.

A huge shiver went down your spine at the sight of it, spurring you to get out of the water as fast as humanly possible.

“Jesus Christ, it’s just one fucking thing after another,” you spoke as you made it out without incident, ignoring the huge sigh he let out behind you. “Thank you for that.” He was following closely behind you, not interested, it seemed, in having a similar experience.

“Don’t mention it. Let's fill these and get back to the beach.” He hands you a couple of empty jugs, and you reluctantly got to work.

All things considered, they were lucky. Frankie knew that. His helicopter - albeit small - was surprisingly well-equipped to handle being stranded. He had an emergency survival kit, purchased partly under the insistence of his mother but mostly so he never had to relive what had happened to him a few years ago. He’d tried not to think about it, but walking through the foliage back to the crash site had brought it all back. Vividly.

He pushed it away, shoved it down deep where he kept the rest of his issues - instead choosing to focus on what they needed to do. They needed some form of shelter, and soon.

“I am sweltering,” her voice was low behind him, whiny with the distinct tone of someone who had never truly been uncomfortable a day in her life. “Fucking starving.”

“Most likely, you’re dehydrated. Once we get back to the beach, we can figure out the water,” he spoke over his shoulder. “Have to make camp if we’re going to be here for a while.” They broke through the treeline, seeing his helicopter on the beach like a pile of old bones broke his heart a little - his only connection to home, to his little girl. He pushes it all away again.

“So how do we get this water drinkable?” she huffs out the words, dropping the jugs next to his laid-out supplies with great effort.

“We have to set up a purifying system, filter it, and then boil it.” He crouches down towards his supplies, looking for something clean he could use as a sieve. Luckily, he always kept an overnight bag with him, in case of being grounded somewhere, but he only had three shirts in there, he couldn’t burn one since he didn’t know exactly how long they’d be stuck there.

“I don’t have much in terms of clothes - you got anything we could use?” He looks up at her, “Something simple, a cotton t-shirt? Something we could use to strain the water.” He walks towards her trunk, waiting for her to open it up.

She opens it reluctantly, rifling through her things for a moment before handing over a simple white shirt. “Any chance I’ll be able to wear that again?” her voice is vaguely annoyed.

“I’m sure Daddy won’t mind buying you a new one.” She gives him an expression that could curdle milk. He ignores it. Instead, he busies himself, setting the jugs of water somewhere relatively level. He felt her eyes on him, and it compelled him to explain what he did as he worked. “We have to let the water settle for about an hour, let the sediment sink to the bottom, then strain it, then boil it.” Not for the first time in his life, he was happy to have his military gear within reach.

He works fast - you have to give him that.

As much as he grumbles and looks at you like you are the devil incarnate - you couldn’t deny that he was incredibly intelligent. Within a few hours of getting back to the camp, he had built an impressive fire, filtered the jugs of water, and had boiled most of it.

“Tomorrow, we’ll get to work building some sort of shelter,” he spoke after he finally sat down, the first break he’d taken all day. “Have to go about looking for food too, I saw some fruit trees - we’ll grab them on the way back from getting more water.” His eyes are heavy, you can see it in the way he blinked slower and slower.

“We have to make that trek again?” your voice is shrill, he sighs loudly.

“We’ll have to make that trek every single day until we’re rescued. Water is the most important thing. No delivery service here, princess,” his voice is sleepy, the usual bite in his words softened by the need for sleep.

“How will anyone find us?” The worry is evident in your voice.

“I have a flare gun and three flares - we’ll be able to signal someone. Go to bed, we have a lot of work to do tomorrow.” He gestures to the helicopter–lovely, this will be comfortable.

—

The knock on the helicopter window ripped you out of sleep, your heart racing as you clutched at your chest.

“Wake up, princess.” He taps on the glass and through bleary eyes, you take note of the smile on his face as he wakes you up, “We have work to do.” He taps one last time and then leaves you.

You flash him the middle finger as he turns and laughs, annoying you even more.

You join him on the beach a little later, ignoring the ache in your body from sleeping in a half seated position. God I really need that massage.

“I’m going to make the trek for more water, while I do that you are going to gather palm fronds.” He had a jug in his hand as he moved towards the treeline. For a moment you panicked, the thought of being alone causing your heart to sink.

“Wait, you’re leaving me alone?” You moved a few steps towards him, catching yourself before making it to him. “I mean–um,” You raised your chin at the surprised look on his face, ignoring it. “How many fronds?” There was an abundance of them, both on the ground and in the trees just beyond the sand. He paused, giving you a curious look.

“As many as you can, we’ll need way more than you think.” He turned then, and left you to it.

Time crawled by while you were alone, with only your thoughts and the sound of waves to accompany you. Sweat dripped down your brow as you gathered, gathered and gathered some more. Enough fronds that it made a huge pile beside the fire pit Francisco had made. Your stomach growling almost constantly now–the hunger so intense it was making you light headed.

Branches snapped, drawing your gaze towards his form. He had the jug in one hand and a stalk of bananas in the other. It was enough to make you moan.

“This is good, but it’s not enough. We have to gather more - have to cut down a bunch of bamboo too.” He put the jug next to the others before joining you where you sat. “Here, you must be starving.” He ripped off a handful of the glorious fruit and tossed them into your lap.

Nothing had ever tasted so good.

“Jesus Christ, I thought I would pass out.” You knew you had fruit on your face, but you couldn’t be bothered to care. “Thank you.” You peeled another, eating it just as quickly as the first.

“Don’t mention it. Okay, let's get to work.”

Your fingers were sore, your back was sore, every single part of you was sore. Hours crawled by with the sun beating down on you both as you weaved fronds together. He had you create sheets and sheets of it, had you help him cut down enough bamboo to build a house. He did the heavy lifting and made what looked like a crude rope tying together the bamboo in layers strong enough to hold both of you.

Wordlessly, he worked, the sweat dripping down his face, soaking through his shirt like a marathon runner until it was a hindrance and he took it off, used it as a rag that hung limp over his shoulders. This was much worse than a marathon, though, much worse than any workout you’d ever done in your life, and although you’d never say it out loud, you were incredibly thankful he was here.

I probably would have died by now.

It was a terrifying thought that without him, you wouldn’t survive - you shoved it away. It wouldn’t matter soon because your parents would be looking, and they wouldn’t stop until they found you.

“Come lay on this, I want to see if it’ll hold both of us.” He stood over the platform, laying on it as you came closer. It held. “Perfect. We’ll be elevated off the sand, less chance of bugs or crabs biting us, and it’ll be cooler than the helicopter.” He let out a weary, tired sigh.

“You’re expecting us both to sleep on this?” You couldn’t help your tone, and instantly you felt bad. He’d worked very hard on this. His brow furrowed.

“You’re welcome to sleep where you want. I’ll be on this.” He got up, his scowl now back in place, “I’m going to finish here and then go fishing. Keep weaving.”

Quietly, you got back to work.

In all his years, Francisco had never met someone so spoiled and self-serving - even though he’d expected it from her, it still hurt. He didn’t know why - why it would matter that some spoiled rich brat was acting like a spoiled rich brat; maybe it was the lack of gratitude. He was useful, he was smart and he had skills that he knew for a fact she’d die without.

He stewed over it as he swam towards a large boulder protruding out of the water near the shore. A perfect spot to catch the fish that swam around in the reef below the surface.

I should let her starve. Find her own food and her own water.

He wouldn’t, though, he couldn’t. All his life, he’d been taught to be a good person, to help where he could and after what had happened in that jungle - he shook it off, pushed it down. Ignored the cruel, petty voice in his head and set about catching something to eat. All the while keeping an eye on the horizon for a boat - for any sign that people were looking for him. That his people were looking for him.

He let himself think about them, really think about them for the first time since the crash. His parents, his little girl, let himself feel the emptiness of being without them. He let the waves of it crash over him just as the ocean around him crashed into the shore, and then he put it away.

She was still working when he came back with his catch, her face scrunched up in concentration - ignoring her, he went about doing what needed to be done.

“Is this enough?” Her voice cut through his concentration, and he nodded noncommittally - leaving the prepped fish on a relatively clean piece of driftwood he’d found.

“Hold this.” He stood at the corner of the raised bed and had her hold a tall, sturdy piece of bamboo. His plan was to make a small frame around the base, use the tarp in order to waterproof it, and lay the fronds all around to protect them from the winds that blew through here in bad weather.

She watched him work in silence, standing where he told her to stand, holding what he told her to hold and eventually, finally - they finished. It was as solid a structure as he could manage without planks of wood or nails, strong enough to survive against a moderate storm and to keep them off the sand.

He’d used the tarp to cover the roof and three sides, leaving one open for them - him to enter. On top were rows of fronds to catch rainwater and prevent it from pooling in the tarp, the rest of the unused woven sheets she’d made laid inside to use as bedding. With the emergency blanket and his military bedroll this would make a decent bed.

All in all, he was proud of himself, he took the raw materials he’d found on this island, and fashioned himself – themselves a shelter.

His stomach growled. It was time to start that fire.

Your stomach was screaming out in hunger. The bananas had been wonderful, but they weren’t enough.

“Are you sure that’s safe to eat?” You watched him wrap the fish in banana leaves and put it into red hot embers; you couldn’t help but be slightly dubious about eating something he’d just pulled out of the ocean. He sighed loudly before answering.

“You don’t have to eat it,” he sounded tired, and you supposed he must have been with how hard he’d worked. “It’s edible. I’ve caught this fish before.” He wiped at his brow with the shirt around his shoulders, his skin slightly pink from the sun.

You didn’t say anything, still unsure, but when the time came for him to unwrap the blackened leaves, your stomach growled loudly. It looked very good.

He didn’t offer any, instead, he snatched a piece of the steaming, flaky fish and popped it into his mouth, relishing the taste with a loud groan and a big smile. A nice smile, in truth.

“Maybe I’ll try a little bit.” You scooted closer to where he sat in the sand, unable to resist it.

“Here, careful - it’s very hot.” He tore a piece of a fresh banana leaf and gave you a decently sized filet, and with singed fingers and zero patience, you took a bite.

It was, without a doubt, the most delicious thing you’d ever eaten.

“Good?” He ate quickly, his expression amused at your very obvious enjoyment of the ‘dubious’ fish.

“It’s the best fucking thing I’ve ever had.” You meant every word, and licked every last morsel off your fingers.

It was incredibly dark by the time the food was eaten, and the fire had died out. Francisco was attaching a piece of netting to the open side, and once he was done, he climbed in without another word.

The helicopter felt safe, enclosed and a space you could lock, but the shelter would have airflow. It would be infinitely cooler to sleep in. You knew that, eventually that helicopter would turn into a greenhouse that felt more like an oven. Not to mention how horrible it was to sleep sitting up.

Every second that passed made the shelter look more and more appealing, and after quickly changing into clean clothes, you slipped in silently, but it didn’t even matter, he was already asleep.

—

He woke to the feeling of soft breath on his back, the air was significantly cooler than it had been during midday, and now, in the early dawn of the morning she was seeking him out for warmth. It was in him to pull away, to deny her, but instead, he stayed motionless. Let her even breath comfort him for a few moments before he eventually rose to bathe in the ocean. Her hand was draped around his middle, pressing herself flat to him while she slept, completely oblivious.

He thought about how scandalized she’d be to know she was being so intimate with him; it almost made him laugh, but soon, that internalized mirth shifted to something bitter, something close to anger. He was only too aware that when she looked at him, she saw ‘the help’; someone like her could never see him as anything other than someone else to pay off, the person hired to do things below her. She shifted in her sleep, burrowing closer, her soft puffs of air ruffling the hair curling at the base of his skull.

Why does that bother me? I don’t even care about this person.

He sighed, confused with himself over these baffling feelings of inadequacy, frustrated that being close to another person felt good. Annoyed that he didn’t want to pull away - no matter how much of a brat she was. If she woke now and saw them tangled, she’d be embarrassed, perhaps even disgusted, he knew this for a certainty. So he left her.

Dawn found you almost frustratingly well-rested, as well as alone. All doubts that may have lingered about the craftsmanship of the shelter evaporated like the morning dew. A long, much-needed stretch is the catalyst that moves you out of the shelter, making sure to close the netting on your way to grab your toiletry bag when he catches your eye from his place in the water. The early morning sun lit up the surface like diamonds. He was running his hands through his hair, wringing out the shirt he’d been wearing the day before. His skin was golden, the high planes of his face kissed by the sun's rays, his shoulders too. You watched him for a time, unable to ignore the breadth of his shoulders - the pleasant sight of his thighs and it was hard not to stare at him when he rose out of the water, the droplets from his golden skin casting a sort of spell on their way back down to earth.

His hands were something else altogether, weaving their own magic the closer he came to shore, from the way they wrung out the shirt easily to the way they adjusted his considerable bulge as he walked, and you looked away quickly, ignoring the curious heat crawling up your chest.

He found you brushing your teeth, pointedly looking away.

“I’m going to go look for more fruit.” He spoke as he put the wrung-out shirt to dry next to some of the other things he’d washed before changing out of his wet boxers behind the cover of the helicopter. “You should gather more firewood, things to burn for tonight.” When he came back around, he was dressed in a clean white tee and a pair of shorts. Looking for all the world like a man on vacation.

“I’m coming with you.” You rose from your place in the sand quickly, shuffling to reach him before he left you. “I’d rather not wait around.”

“Fine, come on then.” With that, you both set off into the trees.

The morning was full of birdsong and sunlight, bright buttery shafts of it cutting through the trees while the former echoed around you.

“This would be a gorgeous place to vacation.” He echoed your thoughts as you followed a faint path in the brush.

“I guess, would need a vast improvement.” Like a hotel, and an actual landing strip maybe. He laughed low, his eyes looking high into the trees.

“I don’t know, I don’t mind it being a bit rustic.” He pointed ahead, a few coconut trees catching his attention.

“This is more than a bit rustic I’d say. God I can’t wait until my parents find me. I should be by the pool right now, mingling with Louis.” Your palm smacks against the first of surely many bites rising on your skin.

“That your boyfriend?” He’s serious now, scooping a couple of coconuts from the floor and dropping them into your arms.

“No, but he should be. He’s an insanely wealthy man my father invited to our private island, where I should be right now.” You sighed loudly, annoyed at the situation all over again. “Soon. Soon, I will be back where I belong. God, my mother is probably worried sick, you know?” You stood there, holding onto the coconuts he stacked in your arms before moving on to find more fruit.

“Sure.” He all but grunts, moving carefully through the brush. “I get it-“

“I wouldn’t be surprised if the military is out searching for me right now.” An image of handsome Louis frantically joining the search with your parents makes your stomach flip.

I wonder if he is worried about me?

“Focus.” His voice rips you out of your daydream. “Let’s grab some more bananas, and head back.” He seems annoyed - he’s always annoyed.

“I hate this.” Your arms ache from holding the heavy coconuts. “Shouldn’t we be building a signal fire or something?” You can hear the whining tone, but you can’t stop it. Must everything be so hard?

“And just what are we meant to signal? Seen a bunch of planes, have you?” His tone is icy, his expression angry. “Cruise ships sailing by us every hour?” He finds a banana tree and cuts down a stalk, his movements aggressive.

“Well no-“

“Exactly. We’re on our own, which means until the military or whoever is looking for you finds this island- we have to work.” He props the bananas against his shoulder and turns back towards the camp, pointedly ignoring the way you struggle to keep up with him.

You’re already covered in sweat by the time you make it back to camp, breathing hard and soaking through your clothes.

“Jesus Christ, I cannot with these things.” You dump the coconuts next to the water jugs, shaking out your aching limbs. He sets the bananas next to them before moving to grab some firewood from the tree line. Your eyes scan the beach, the waves gently lapping at the shore; it would be pretty enough without the eye sore that is the helicopter.

“I cannot wait to be away from this hunk of junk.” His movements stop at your words.

“That hunk of junk was my entire fucking livelihood. I don’t have a rich daddy to just buy me a new one.” He tosses the wood pieces angrily into the pit, ignoring the recoil his tone inspired. “Not everyone has it so easy, princess.”

“No, I guess they don’t, sorry-“ he spoke over you.

“Forget it.” He let out a sigh. “Let’s just do what we can to survive until someone finds us.” His expression was cold, and you can’t help the guilt that blooms in the pit of your stomach.

“Sounds good.” The rest of the day passed by in silence.

—

The days both fly, and crawl by and Frankie works each and every one of them. He works to find them food, he works to reinforce their shelter - to make them as comfortable as he possibly can, all while trying his hardest not to lose his mind. The picture of his little girl burned a hole in his heart when he looked at it each night. He only hoped she knew he’d come back to her.

Being stuck on an island by himself would have been bad enough; the loneliness, the isolation would no doubt be detrimental to his mental health, to his hopes of being found, but this? This had to be worse.

She helped, but only because he pushed her to. He knew that if it were up to her - they would have long since starved. He watched her as he braided more palm fronds to pad the sleeping platform, she was washing some of the clothes she’d worn as best she could, and he couldn’t help but admit that she was pretty. Her face was pleasant to look at when her nose wasn’t turned up. He can’t help but like the shape of her, imagining her skin would be soft and silky - he’d definitely been on this island too long.

Doesn’t matter how attractive she is, she doesn’t want you, and you don’t want her.

He didn’t know if he was reminding himself, or convincing himself.

A noise in the treeline behind him stops him mid-braid and for a moment, he thinks there might be someone else on the island, but he realizes what it is and grabs his knife. If he plays this right, tonight they’d eat like kings.

A new appreciation was born of having to wash your own clothes, for electricity, for washing machines and dryers, for Tide pods. For the maids who did your laundry and for the people who did your drycleaning, for the neat drawers full of clean clothes waiting at home.

For now, these would have to do. They wouldn’t smell like your favourite fabric softener, but they’d be clean enough to wear here at least. Francisco had set up a makeshift laundry line from the helicopter to a leaning palm tree, his things hanging as you added your own, and you briefly considered folding his things for him when his absence caught your attention.

“Francisco?” you called out to him, ignoring the way your heart raced. Usually, when he went off to get water or fruit, he let you know; it was unlike him to leave without a word. There had to be a reason. He wouldn’t just abandon you, would he?

Grab a hold of yourself, where the hell would he even go?

He crashed through the trees, triumphant and laughing, and you shoved away the altogether too-big feeling of relief that washed over you to see him.

“Good news, Princess, there’s wild boar on the island.” It was the happiest you’d seen him, well, ever. “It’ll be hard, but I think I can catch one.” He was making his way towards his supplies, and very quickly, the relief turned to dread. “We’re going to feast-”

“You’re going to kill a wild pig?” It was very hard to keep the worry out of your tone, or off your face.

“What’s the matter, never had pork chops?” He frowned now, his hands on his hips facing you.

“I mean, yeah, but this is a little different than going to a butcher and grabbing a few chops. You’re going to hunt down the animal and kill it? I’m not into that. I don’t know if I could eat it.” He narrowed his eyes at you, no doubt preparing to rip you a new one. “It’s also incredibly dangerous - they have a tendency to gore people.” His expression changed at that, real consequences seemed to get through to him.

“I mean, it’s not that different, but fine.” The wind had gone out of his sails, “I’ll see if I can catch something in the water - you okay with that?” He grabbed his fishing gear, raising an eyebrow, and you nodded before he made his way towards the water. You knew he was probably cursing you for ruining whatever he imagined cooking, but still, you couldn’t help but consider it a victory.

Babe, the pig wouldn’t be dying on your watch, and neither would he. Instead, he returned to the camp a few hours later with a fish, a few crabs, and a look that said you better not have any complaints. You didn’t. None that you’d say out loud anyway.

Dinner was a quiet affair, tasty and filling with the fish and the added protein; you both went to sleep full, and ungored.

Something loud dragged you up and out of the haze of sleep. It was still dark, and the sun had not risen yet. The sound was definitely something loud - probably just a plane. You shot up, scrambling out of the shelter to see if what you were hearing was real, Francisco barely moved.

It was high up, but it was definitely a plane.

“Francisco! There’s a plane. Where are the flares?” You all but barrelled into the shelter to shake him out of his dreams.

“Hmmm, tired baby.” He was out of it but strong when he pulled you closer - you ignored the way your stomach flipped on its ass at his pet name.

“Francisco, let me go, there’s a plane!” You smacked at his face lightly, just enough to wake him up.

“Huh? A plane?” your words broke through his sleep-addled brain, and he shot up. “What kind of plane?” He was out and grabbing at his bag momentarily before he swore loudly, a sigh filling the quiet of the dawn. “You called me for a commercial plane? You didn’t actually fire a flare, did you?” The blood drained from his face momentarily.

“No, I would have, but I didn’t know where you put the flare gun.” You frowned at him, annoyed. “I thought they’d see it.”

“Thank Christ.” He took a deep breath, his hands on his hips, “That Is a commercial flight, and if you’d fired the flare, it would have not only been a waste of a flare, but you could have burned the shelter down, could have ruined our supplies.” He seemed angry, and that, in turn, pissed you off.

“I didn’t think about that, I was trying to help-“ You crossed your arms, ignoring the annoyed look on his face.

“With the altitude that plane has, it wouldn’t matter if we had a thousand flares; come to me before you try to signal anyone, got it Princess?” He didn’t wait for a response, instead, he got back into bed and didn’t mention the incident again.

You got back into the shelter, laying in the pre-dawn glow - conflicting feelings fighting for dominance within you. You stared at his back, at the soft curl of hair he wore like a halo, and the fluttering of your stomach won out for just a moment. The solid press of him holding you close while still asleep was strangely welcome, although you’d never admit it. His condescending tone came to mind then, he had a habit of speaking down to you, and while you could admit you weren’t the most knowledgeable in survival, you still deserved to be spoken to like an adult.

You fell asleep fighting the urge to both press yourself close, and smack him upside the head.

When morning well and truly came, it found you both in a terrible mood.

He was quiet, much like he always was when he was annoyed, so you left him with his thoughts and set off to find more fruit through the path you’d both taken to traveling every few days. Luckily, the island was bountiful, and there were plenty of bananas, coconuts, and even some mangoes, but there was only so much you could take and you decided to venture out a bit further, keeping your eyes peeled for something different.

After a while, you found a berry bush, a small variety you didn’t recognize at once, but they were a very gorgeous, deep purple colour. Thinking he might appreciate a change as much as you, you picked a few handfuls and wrapped them up in a banana leaf before continuing your scavenging.

This was where your luck ran out, however, and if there were other varieties of fruit, they weren’t for you to find. Instead, you picked up a few mangoes and a coconut on your way back.

You found him looking through his things from the helicopter, a scowl on his face.

“Hey, I found some berries-” He looked up at the sound of your voice, his brow furrowed at the smile on your face. “I figured you were probably getting sick of the same fruit we’d been eating. I was hoping to find something else, but no luck.” You set them down in front of him.

“You didn’t eat this, did you?” his voice was curt and you frowned.

“No, I thought we could share them-”

“These are toxic.” He tossed them into the sand, burying them with a heavy sigh. “Do me a favour and don’t grab shit you don’t know for sure is edible. You could have made us really sick.” He turned then and continued with his inventory. Embarrassment and annoyance burned through your veins.

“You don’t have to be such an asshole about it, you know.” The words came on almost by themselves, bubbling up in your throat at the sanctimonious look on his face.

“What?” He paused and turned to look you in the face.

“You don’t have to be so fucking mean to me all the time.” You crossed your arms, holding in the frustration that seemed to expand in your lungs like a horrible balloon. “All you do is talk down to me. I said I was sorry about almost using the flare-” He huffed out an almost amused laugh and it boiled your blood. “It’s not funny! I’m stuck out here with you and all you do is yell, or talk to me like I’m stupid. I’m a person, and I deserve basic human decency-”

“What’s my last name?” He crossed his arms, his voice calm, but his question stole the words right out of your mouth.

“What?”

“You heard me - what is my last name? What do you know about me? Aside from the fact that my first name is Francisco, and that I’m a pilot.” He stood, knocking the sand off his shorts.

“I don’t think you told me-”

“No, I haven’t - do you know anything about who might be looking for me? Do you have any idea if I have anyone waiting for me to get home?” Your stomach sank, the anger slowly bleeding away and being replaced with shame. “Any idea if I’m married, or if I have kids?” He’s angry now, the scowl bigger than ever before.

“No, I-I don’t know.” You took a step back.

“No. No, you don’t. You don’t know that I’m divorced, that my parents are probably worried sick. You don’t know that I have a daughter, that her name is Tatiana, and that she’s probably thinking her dad abandoned her, or worse - that he’s dead.” You recoiled at that.

“I didn’t know you had a daughter.” Your voice feels small, and the shame in your belly grows, vines of guilt wrapping themselves around your throat.

“How could you? You’ve never fucking asked me a single thing about who I am as a person! All you’ve done is complain. Complain and talk to me endlessly about how much money your parents have, how you should be on a private island, and how much of a fucking eyesore my livelihood is, and any time I’ve opened my mouth to respond or explain how we’re both stuck here, you’ve spoken over me.” His words cut at you - you don’t know this man at all, and you never ever cared to ask. You don’t respond.

He was well and truly angry now, kicking sand away from himself in his frustration.

“I’m sorry-” He put his hands up.

“Don’t. I don’t need you to apologize. I need you to pull your weight, and maybe realize that I’m also a person, and that all your money means jackshit to me. I need you to treat me like a human being, not just a sounding board.” He walked away, leaving you with your guilt - a sad balloon deflating alone.

They were both quiet that night. With Francisco, it was mostly out of anger. The feelings of inadequacy and frustration he’d been bottling up had finally been spoken aloud, and now he was processing them, all while still being stuck on this godforsaken island.

For her, he could see it was pure guilt. From the subdued expression, from her quiet words and general withdrawal, he knew no one had ever been so honest with her before. He would have almost felt guilty, if he hadn’t been so annoyed and hurt at the way she’d treated him. Instead, they both avoided each other for the rest of the night - a silent shared meal before wordlessly falling asleep in the shelter.

He woke the next morning to the feeling of her pressed against him again.

Her deep, even breaths against the back of his neck were embarrassingly welcome, and he ignored the way his body responded. He let out a low, deep sigh, grateful that he was facing away, a shudder passing through his body at the thought of having to explain why he was as hard as a rock.

His hand traveled down to where her leg was draped over his hip, unable to resist feeling her skin for just a moment before he slowly untangled their limbs, and made his way towards the water.

—

Days passed, and they passed without much conversation. This particular morning was somehow even more quiet despite the constant sound of waves lapping at the shore. The anger had fizzled out, and what was left was more akin to silent resignation. The two of you danced around each other, performing what were now everyday tasks without uttering a single word. The hours slipping by wordlessly, that is, until your scream cut through the silence.

“What is it?” He was at your side quickly, his eyes wide with something that looked suspiciously like worry.

“I think I stepped on a shell-” The sand around your foot was turning pink, your eyes widening at the sight.

“Okay, take a deep breath and sit here-” He guided you with surprisingly soft hands towards one of the logs around the burned-out fire. “Don’t move - try to keep your foot out of the sand.” He stood then, walking away.

“Where are you going?” Your voice sounded strange, almost whiny, and you ignored the little pang of despair.

Get a hold of yourself.

“Just going to get the first aid kit.” The cut throbbed as you waited, and soon he returned with one of the water bottles and a big red case. He walked with purpose, the look on his face shamed you to have been so clueless. This was a man that had obviously dealt with many a scraped knee. “Okay, let's see what we’re dealing with.”

He kneeled on the sand before you, taking your foot into his hands. You hissed when he softly brushed the sand away.

“Tsk, come on now Princess. I know you can be braver for me than that.” His hands were soft, and so was his tone, and it filled you with something, comfort amongst other, less wholesome thoughts. You shook them away, chewing on your bottom lip, watching as he played nurse. “Nothing too crazy, just a little cut.”

He rinsed the sand carefully, his brow furrowed in concentration.

“Okay, this might sting a little.” He rifled through the open case beside him, grabbing a little pack of what looked to be antiseptic. “Deep breath for me.” He watched you then, waiting until you let the breath go before wiping the wound clean. The sting almost slapped you across the face, every instinct screaming to pull your foot away from the mean man.

“Okay, okay - you’re okay.” his hands engulfed your ankle, holding you firmly in place. “Good job, we’re almost done.” he spoke low, opening up a waterproof bandaid and carefully covering the tiny wound. “There we go. All done.” He pressed a small kiss to the top of your foot, his eyes widening after. “Sorry- force of habit.” He laughed awkwardly.

“Thank you. It feels much better.” You felt the heat in your chest and in your ears and ignored it, ignored the whole mess of feelings blooming in your gut for him.

“Yeah, sure.” He collected his things before scratching at the back of his neck and it thrilled you to realize that he looked as flushed as you felt. “I’m going to go catch something.” He got up quickly, moving with purpose away from where you sat, curtailing any further discussion.

He hadn’t expected it, but she’d taken his words to heart. He’d felt terrible after going off on her. The embarrassment on her face at how she’d treated him, although completely warranted, pulled at his heartstrings. He couldn’t exactly say why - it wasn’t something he could explain, not something he wanted to delve into. Whether that was for his benefit or hers, he couldn’t be sure.

She no longer had to be told to fetch fruit, or water. She did her best to keep the camp organized, she no longer spoke about her wealth, or Louis. She was quiet most of the time, in fact, and he wasn’t sure if it was better, or worse.

Where she mostly avoided his annoyance throughout the day, she still clung to him at night. He never told her, convincing himself it was to spare her further embarrassment, ignoring the little part of him that knew it was because he was terrified that if she knew, she’d stop.

Things were different, that was for sure. The days passed and you had to admit to yourself that you’d been such an ungrateful, horrid little - well, Princess. He’d been completely right about you, and he’d had the patience of a saint. You saw him with different eyes now. You saw a competent, strong, intelligent man who up until now, was the only reason you’d survived on this godforsaken island as long as you had. It was well and truly humbling.

Instead of complaining, now you did your best to pull your weight. The goal was to show him that you were grateful, that you weren’t just some spoiled rich girl, that you could be something other than that, anyway. You wanted - needed to prove to him that you weren’t a burden.

It had been a particularly hot day, the sun beating down on the both of you with a vengeance. Sunset couldn’t come fast enough, and once it did, you cherished it like never before.

He dug around in the helicopter while you sat on the log, enjoying the tiny, but very welcome breeze coming off the water.

“Oh wow, I forgot about this,” You heard the smile in his voice, “How would you feel about a drink?” He held a bottle in his hand, making his way over to your place in the sand.

“I’d feel great actually, if you don’t mind sharing.”

“Bottle’s almost full, more than enough for both of us.” He sat next to you, taking a generous sip of the amber liquid before handing it to you. It was warmer than you would have liked, but the burn was pleasant enough that you didn’t care. “Good, right?” His smile is as breezy as the ocean, and just as welcome.

“Very good,” you couldn't help but admit before taking another long sip, “I can already feel it.” You smiled, handing it back to him.

“We’ll be cheap drunks tonight, that’s for sure.” He took another long swallow, and you couldn’t help but stare at the way his throat worked. You watched the fire instead, focusing on the embers as the drink settled in your stomach. The heat spreads through your limbs, making you feel heavy where you sit beside him.

You both sat in silence for a time, passing the bottle back and forth until most of it was gone, and your head felt like a balloon barely tethered to your body.

“This would be such a beautiful place…without the whole ‘being stranded’ thing.” He held the bottle loosely, his eyes no doubt taking in the gorgeous sunset.

“You mean you don’t love being stuck out here with me?” You bumped his shoulder, and it vaguely registers how much you missed physical touch. He laughed, full-throated.

“Oh yeah, this is definitely heaven.” His expression is exaggerated, “You know what I mean.” He gestures to where the water laps at the shore. “This is a paradise, just needs a resort, and an airport.” He sighed, his mood is the friendliest you’ve ever seen.

“Yeah, it would definitely make a difference.” You leaned back and listened to the water. “Happy you’re here though, woulda died without you.” You didn’t mean to say it, but it’s absolutely true.

“Oh, I don’t know-” He shrugged, modest and much kinder than you deserved.

“Yes, you do-” You shoved at his arm softly, “You’re the only reason we’re still alive, super nice to me despite the fact that I can be a spoiled little brat.” You laughed.

“Can’t argue with that.” He laughed, “I like brats, though.” He smiled, and something that feels very much like butterflies fluttered around in your stomach. He didn't say anything else, and neither did you, the butterflies lingered, though, well into the night, and they only seemed to get stronger whenever his eyes found yours.

“It’s getting late-” He puts the bottle down, “-we should get some rest.”

You nodded, not trusting your voice, instead, you just followed him towards the shelter.

It’s a strange, unfamiliar dance you’re both doing - the polar opposite of how things have been between you. Shy smiles replace cold stares, and a curious longing takes hold of you. It would embarrass you to fall prey to your baser instincts - there’s something in the way his eyes tracked you that says you weren’t alone in your feelings.

Something has shifted, he can feel it in the tense energy between them. A pleasant buzz flowed through his veins, danced along his nerves like a current, beat through his heart, and into his loins. She was so close, he could practically feel her warmth.

She sighed beside him, her legs rubbing together like a cricket and he knew in his gut, she felt the same energy.

“Good night, Frankie.” She whispered the words, as though someone might overhear. His eyes clenched shut at the feel of her breath ruffling through his hair, closer than she’d ever let herself get, awake anyway.

“Night-” Everything in him wanted to turn over, to feel her fingers ruffle through his hair, but something held him back. He stayed still, his body tense despite how relaxed the alcohol had made him.

“It’s a bit cold–” Her voice is a bit closer, so close he felt it in the shell of his ear, “-okay if I scoot closer?” Her hands pressed against his back, her legs tangled with his, and he knows in his bones, it’s just a ploy, but he stayed still nonetheless.

“Sure-get close.” He took her hand and wrapped it around his middle, holding it well above his waist, letting out a deep breath.

“Oh-okay.” She pressed her face into his shoulder, and every cell in his body screamed at him to turn around, to kiss her, bury his tongue in her mouth, and then trail it down, bury it between her legs, but he shook his head, convincing himself she just wants this.

“Night.” His voice cracked, but he said nothing more. He felt her staring at him, letting out a little sigh of her own.

“Night, Frankie.”

—

The days following your drunken night passed by in mostly silence, with a polite avoidance from him, and an annoyed quiet from you.

It was no secret that you had the power to annoy the hell out of him, but you’d thought there’d been something else. The look in his eye when he’d told you he liked brats, the sound of his voice when he’d held you close, the considerable boner pressing against your ass when you’d woken up to him wrapped around you that next morning.

Maybe you’d misread him, maybe it wasn’t flirting, maybe he’d just been stroking your ego, being nice to you, and you’d practically thrown yourself at him only to be.. What? Ignored?

The wind whipped around as you both ate dinner a few quiet days later, the sky dark and pregnant with the promise of a heavy rain, filling you with worry. The shelter was sturdy, you knew that, but you didn’t think it would hold up against a storm like the one that had blown you both onto the island to begin with.

“I don’t think we’ll be enjoying a fire tonight,” His eyes stared at the sky, same as you, “we should bring the clothes into the shelter; it’s going to pour soon.” He got up, tossing his banana peels into the fire pit just as the first few drops of water sprinkled down on top of you.

A nervous current flowed through your body as you made yourself comfortable within the shelter, making you acutely aware of his closeness.

The rain came down in sheets as you both lay there, filling the silence with its rhythmic pattering against the tarp. Lightning flashed, illuminating the space between you. A shiver ran through you at the look on his face.

“You okay?” His hand shot out, landing softly on your arm, raising goosebumps as it slid down towards your elbow.

“I’m fine.” You shudder, but all at once, annoyance springs up at his rejection the other night - you turn to give him your back.

“Are you… angry at me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes.

“Why would I be angry at you? It’s not like I threw myself at you or anything.”

“What?” His voice sounded incredulous, “You mean, when we were drinking?”

“Yes!” You sighed, “I was all over you. I guess I was wrong.” All at once, you’re embarrassed, and desperate to get away from his incredulous expression. The storm, however, holds you both hostage.

“Hm.” He sounded almost amused, and your stomach dropped, “Well, if I’d known that all you needed was to be fucked, things would have been different.”

Your stomach did a backflip onto its ass, shock, and pure adrenaline coursing through your body at his words. You turned slowly to face him.

“Sorry?” It came out almost stupidly, and he smiled a very self-satisfied smile.

“I said, if I’d known, that in order for you to stop being such a brat,” He moved in closer, forcing you to lay back and make space for him between your legs. “All you needed was for me to fuck you, I would have done it sooner.” He hovered above you, close enough that he must’ve surely felt your heart pounding where his chest met yours. It’s with Herculean strength, that you composed yourself, albeit nervously.

“Well, I guess I just thought you were more perceptive.” The bold words were completely at odds with the tremor in your voice; he laughed, full-throated, and it sent a current across every inch of you.

“Or maybe, I thought you’d open that pretty mouth of yours, and say what it is you wanted.” He pressed forward, dragging his lips across your jaw before capturing your mouth in a kiss. It started soft, and for a moment, the storm disappeared, your hands finding themselves tangled up in his messy waves, and then his tongue pressed forward, and it pulled a moan from somewhere deep inside you.

There was no more talking. Only the feeling of your heart racing, your cunt aching, and his comforting weight pressing you into the shelter, that is, before he shifted his hips and the considerable heft of him was slotted perfectly against where you needed him most.

The slip of his warm palm from the trembling skin of your belly raised goosebumps in its wake, and pulled a gasp from your mouth into his when it glided under your shit and landed on your breast. Those deft fingers you’d seen working away on all manner of things on this island, now plucked deliciously at your nipple.

It was almost violent, both the storm outside, and your haste to divest him of his clothes. The need to feel that golden skin on yours was a hunger pang, both terrible and euphoric, that burned as brightly as the flashes of lightning that lit up the shelter. His eyes shone with the same intensity you felt, and instantly, he moved away to help you, too, the two of you scrambling with a ferocity that bordered on anger.

“God, you’re so fucking hot–” He hissed the words onto your face before kissing you again, and any softness was gone, his teeth clicked against yours before his tongue took yours and laid down the law. Your skin burned with want, your fingers digging into the muscles of his back before you moved your hand down between you to finally grasp his cock. He pulled away from your mouth to stare down where you held onto him, drunk with the sight of just how big he looked in your grip.

“Is this what you’ve been wanting?” He held himself above you, watching as you stroked him slowly.

“God, yes, I wanted this - I want you to fuck me–” you swiped your thumb over the head, fat pearly drops of his own arousal making it slippery, “I want you to come inside me, make me feel good-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence before his mouth claimed yours once more and pulled your hand away in order to slip himself between the lips of your sex, coating himself in you for a moment before he finally slipped inside.

“Jesus Christ, man.” You breathed the words onto his face at the stretch, at the way he seemed to have taken up every inch of space inside you, making you overflow with him. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, his hips snapping in a toe-curling rhythm. For a few minutes, there were no more words left, the only thing you can manage is to whimper, then moan in earnest when he ducked his head down to capture a nipple in his mouth. Your fingers like talons in his hair, keeping him close to your breast while your cunt soaked him in your want.

He let go of the perky bud with a pop, his eyes glazed.

“Fuck baby, I’m gonna come so fast,” he almost slurred his words, pussy drunk, “your tight little cunt is gonna make me fucking come–” He sped up, his cock punching into you hard enough to make your breasts bounce, hard enough to make a lewd noise where you’re joined and you desperately wanted him to slow down so you can catch up.

“Wait–” Your legs squeezed where they’d hitched up high on his hips, “Frankie–” His rhythm stuttered for a moment before he thrust again, deep, filling you with his come, and you almost cried at the thought that he might be done so soon.

“Fuck-” He ground himself as deep as he could, milking himself inside you for a moment before pulling away abruptly, hissing through the oversensitivity to look at his handiwork, “that’s so fucking pretty baby, look at me dripping out-” He smiled at you, almost laughing at the look of anguish on your face at the emptiness, “what’s wrong?” His hand rubbed at your belly for a moment before it slipped down, and two big fingers filled you back up. “I know you didn’t come, but you don’t think I’m just going to leave you like this, right?” He pumped slowly, making you keen when he pressed against something holy inside of you. “No, I got you, baby.”

One moment he was kneeling between your legs, and the next, he was flat on his belly, his face pressed up against your pussy, tongue right on the button of your clit.

The moan you let out was obscene. His tongue circled your clit with devastating precision, over and over again, until you were staring down at him with your mouth open, begging and praying incoherently for him to keep going just like that. His eyes were bright, laser-focused on you just like his tongue, and his free hand came up to hold onto your breast, pinching at your nipple, and all of a sudden, the sting snapped, the wave crested, and you practically folded in half, swearing loudly as you gushed around his fingers.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but the storm got a little stronger, and louder as you both lay in the shelter, quiet and content to hold each other. Lightning turned the darkened skies into day for a moment before the boom of thunder shook you to your core.

“It’s okay, just loud.” He said it softly into your ear with the same patience he’d had when he bandaged your foot, the comforting words dads usually used for their children.

“I know, it just startled me.”

“Force of habit.”

“Your daughter, is she scared of thunderstorms?” You turned towards him, making yourself comfortable in his embrace.

“Only at first.” His smile was wistful, “She always jumps from the first big boom but then laughs,” his eyes crinkled, and it was hard not to notice just how handsome he is, the care and love he has for his daughter shining out through his eyes. “Sorry, I just miss her a lot.” It faltered, that handsome smile, and it made you sad for him.

“Don’t be sorry. I can’t imagine how hard all this must be for you.” Guilt swirled in your chest at the way you’d treated him before, at your general attitude towards everyone up until getting stranded. “I’m sorry about how I was–” He shook his head no, much too kind, kinder than you deserved, and you pushed through.

“No, let me say it. I’m sorry about how I treated you - I was horrible.”

“You weren’t that bad.”

“Yes, I was, so spoiled and insensitive, I didn’t even give your situation a second thought. All I cared about was myself and I can’t even believe it now. I’m sorry. I’m really lucky to have you here.”

“Thank you,” he smiled, one of his palms rubbing your back soothingly, “you’ve definitely had a big turnaround.” He laughed, and you smacked his arm playfully. “I’m lucky you’re here too. I would have been miserable by myself.” He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, and you couldn’t help but sigh at the simple comfort human touch could bring. “Not sure you would have ever agreed to go out with me had we not been stuck here together.”

His words were light, and for a moment, you wanted to protest, but you didn’t think you could, and it shamed you further.

“Oh god, what a moron I was.” You groaned, pressing your face into the warm skin of his neck.

“You weren’t a moron, maybe a little oblivious, and I don’t mean that in a cruel way. You and I are in very different circles. I doubt our paths would have even crossed, but I’m glad they did because as much as you have the power to drive me nuts, I really like you.” His hands continued their comforting sweep across your skin, lulling you into the most relaxed state you could remember being in, in a long time.

“I would have been an idiot to not give you a chance. You’re so sweet and smart, and so strong, so fucking handsome, too. You take care of me and make me laugh, and you have done your best to keep us both safe and sound and I’m just - I’m ashamed that maybe in the past I would have been too shallow and stuck up to notice.” The storm abates as you confess some feelings you’d been harboring.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it. I think I probably would have dismissed you just as quickly for similarly shallow reasons. As gorgeous as you are, I most likely would have written you off as some rich trust fund-baby.” He half-shrugged.

“I’m still sorry. It’s because of me that we’re here.”

“I could have said no.”

“I pressured you with money. I pushed even though you’d said it was unsafe.”

“I still could have said no. Let’s just forget it all, everything that happened before we got here. Point is we’re here, and we have to keep it together until someone finds us.” His hand kept its rhythm, sweeping over any and all skin, casting its spell of comfort until both it and the storm lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep.

-----

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