#it feels like im falling out a window feet first

[strwberri-milk]

a/n: cue me listening to the same secret time over and over to put me in the right mindframe for this bc I don’t have either of the cards for the AB set for this goddamn FISH – im still learning about him/specifically abysswalker raf as well bc I know nothing outside this audio so there are indeed going to be some growing pains uwu im still learning his voice but im in love w him <3

Wrapped in Moonlight

AO3 || Rafayel x Fem!Reader || Soft Smut, Mild Angst || 3, 503 Words

additional tags: accidental mask kink, fingering, vaginal sex, first time having sex [w/ e/o], first kiss [w/ e/o], rafayels acc so in love with you, i like the moon and havent ever had to write a lot of water motifs before

The dull thrumming of his heartbeat in his ears has never been louder, not until this moment here, with you.

Your eyes look up at him from where you lay on your bed, teeth lightly worrying over your lips as you take a deep breath, shaking your head as though to shake away the words that had his feet planted firmly on the ground. You’d taken to summoning him more often as of late and even if he could, he would never reject your requests. Rafayel knew that it was dangerous but he couldn’t think to care, beginning to crave being by your side in ways that drove him mad.

“I-I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked you. Please, just forget I even said anything,” you begin to plead, averting his gaze and retreating further into your lush sheets. Sheets he knows the feeling of, the barely there warmth that his fingertips longed to feel, his resolve cracking every time you sleepily ask him to stay until you fall asleep.

“Your Highness doesn’t think I’d really be able to forget such a request, does she?” he decides to say instead, wanting to lean into a slightly more playful side of his persona to cope with the swell of emotions crashing down into his chest.

You stay silent and he decides to take this opportunity to step closer. His gloved hand parts the beaded curtain, your breath catching in your chest as you see the way the candle’s light faintly illuminating his face. Rafayel’s eyes are intense, something you’ve always noticed when he looks at you. All thoughts begin to cease as soon as his eyes meet yours, leaning in closer to you.

“Did you really think that I’d forget that you asked me to kiss you?”

The words hang heavy between the two of you, an unnamed but not unnoticed tension sitting on your shoulders once again. It felt like the two of you were constantly doing some song and dance, skirting around the way you both felt about each other. He looks like he’s got something more to say, watching you intently before stepping away. The clicking of the curtains gives you something else to focus on as you try to still your erratic heartbeat, hearing him draw the curtains to your room open at the same time as him blowing out the candles.

He stands in your window for a moment, the moon’s light wrapping around him so intimately you can’t help but be jealous. You shift in your bed, unconsciously crawling towards him. The sound makes him turn to look at you, hues coloured with something you can’t quite understand. You think you’ll drown in the depths of them but you can’t be bothered to care. If it meant being able to touch him, even for just a moment then you’d be more than willing to suffer that consequence.

“Rafayel, I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just didn’t think before I spoke.”

And you couldn’t, not when he looked at you like he wanted to devour you or whenever he’d touch you gently to reassure you of his presence.

Silence and tension continue to colour the air between the two of you and you have a fleeting thought that this might be the last time you ever see him. You couldn’t ever summon him again, not after leaving things like this. Rafayel can feel your eyes flitting over his figure, imagines that you’re committing his features to memory.

“It’s quite the opposite,” he admits after some time, long strides closing the distance between the two of you in no time.

You find yourself being pushed back against the bed. Slowly, Rafayel pushes you to lay on your pillow, staring up at him in the moon’s light. He looks ethereal like this and you can’t imagine how you’re still capable of any sort of thinking right now.

A slight chuckle leaves his lips at the sight of your eyes widening. His hand goes to cup your face, leaning in so close your noses would be touching were it not for that infuriating piece of leather that keeps your breaths from intermingling. You have half a mind to ask him again, this time in the form of a wish to see if he’ll accept but you feel your mind go blank as you feel him press his face against your neck.

“What are you-”

Your words devolve to gasps, hands going to cling onto his shoulders as you feel him periodically press a little harder against your skin. If you close your eyes and really focus you think you can feel his lips pressing against the leather, kissing you through his mask. His breath rings in your ear, you trying to keep your gasps quiet to avoid drawing attention to your chambers.  

“Fulfilling Your Highness’ wish. Is that not what you wanted?”

You know that even this much is more than you could ever ask for, Rafayel always watching you cautiously whenever your hands would near his mask. You understand that he has his reasons for privacy and you would never ask him why but now, you’re just desperate to feel his lips on your skin, desperate to know if it’s as good as you’ve fantasized about. The only solace you get is the warmth of his body seeping through his clothes, teasing the tips of your fingers as you try not to act desperate for more of his touch.

“I can feel you holding back. Don’t tell me Your Highness is getting greedy?” he laughs breathily, the slight pant in his voice unnoticed by you with how divine it feels to be under him.

“I don’t want you to hate me,” you manage to mumble, biting back a slight moan when you feel his arm creep under your back and push you closer to his face.

“Hate you?”

The words leave his throat almost bloody. Just the sheer thought of hating you made his stomach churn, murky waters of his affection for you maddened that you could ever think such a thing. His hands tighten their grip on your body to a way that’s almost painful, looking up at you with a look that has so much want in it that it steals the breath out of your lungs.

“I could never hate you.”

His hair tickles your throat as you feel him settle against your neck, nuzzling into you and resting his hand on your waist. You try to turn to face him but the weight of his body stops you, Rafayel giving you a sound of disagreement.

“I told you already. It’s quite the opposite.”

You try to ask him to clarify, about to open your mouth when you he quickly gets up. He looks at you quickly before going to look around your room, shaking his head good naturedly at the slight furrow of your brows and parted lips. You watch him rummage through your things, getting even more confused when he returns with a strip of ribbon between his fingers.

He crawls over your body again, tilting your chin with his knuckles. You think you’re imagining it in the low light but the apples of his cheeks seem tinted red. Curious, you bring your hand up to the side of his face. You’re glad that he doesn’t seem to be flinching away from your touch. A smile graces your lips when you feel how warm his face is, Rafayel now pulling away from you slightly.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks, a slight pout in his voice.

“You’re warm,” you laugh, bringing your hand closer to his face.

Your fingers brush against his ear, sure with how warm they are that he’s bright red. Your fingers trail down the curves, nail tracing the shape of his jaw down to his collar. He doesn’t shy away. Instead, his hand goes to grab your wrist, the ribbon tickling your skin as he leans in closer.

“This is your fault. You know that, right?” he scolds lightly.

“If it weren’t for you my heart wouldn’t feel like a hurricane over the ocean. Do you feel that?”

He brings your wrist over to rest on his chest, your palm resting over his heart. True to his word you can feel his heart pounding under your fingers. He presses his chest against you, brows furrowing as your fingers press against him.

“You should be more understanding, Your Highness. You can’t just do these things to people and leave them washed up on the beach during low tide. It’s cruel.”

The way he pitches his voice in your ear makes you swoon and you’re glad you’re already laying down. Your knees feel weak and you barely register his thumbs tracing a smooth line across your cheek. You’re both so close to each other that you’re suffocating in his presence.

“Are you willing to face the consequences?” he whispers into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Weakly, you nod. With this, he brings both his hands to your face and suddenly you have your vision obscured by the ribbon he pulled out earlier. You bring your hands up to reach for it, immediately stopped by his strong grip.

“You said you’d be willing to accept it. You trust me, don’t you?”

His voice is raspy, laced with something more than just the question he’s asked you. There’s a weight to his words, something dragging down the vowels and accentuating the bite of his consonants. Your breath is caught in your throat as you wait for him to finish tying the ribbon behind your head, whimpering softly when he brings his thumb to press against your bottom lip.

Forced to wait, you try to imagine what he might do now. Your mind runs wild, barely listening to the sounds around you when you feel his weight on your body again. You reach out for him but gasp when you feel his lips press against your bare skin. The sound is indecent and you’re embarrassed you were even capable of making it but when you try to hide it you feel him bite you, squeaking in response.

“Don’t hide from me. I want to hear your voice. Don’t you think I deserve a bit of a reward for this?”

He continues to litter your skin in featherlight kisses, and you realise that his clothes don’t seem as thick as they usually are. You can feel his skin through the thinner layers, about to say something when his lips press against yours. It’s soft, barely there but the contact is enough to make your mind spin. You get the sense that he’s testing your boundaries and before he can pull away you wind your fingers through his hair, kissing him more insistently this time.

“I hope you don’t mind the blindfold, but I think it’s more exciting this way, don’t you think? This way, you’re forced to guess what I’m going to do next to you,” he breathes against you when he finally pulls back.

“You just like teasing me,” you mutter, scared to admit just how much you liked this and wanted him to keep going.

“I’m just trying to get revenge on you. You’ve been teasing me too! Don’t act like you’re innocent in all of this.”

He starts to trail kisses down your neck again, sucking gently against your collar. As much as he would like to, he can’t leave any marks on your skin. Something even semi-permanent like that seems far too cruel for someone like him to leave on someone like you. He reveres you and you can feel it in the way he kisses you, showering your body in an affection he’s never felt for anybody else.

“Rafayel – please –” you whimper, his name coming off your tongue his own siren song.  

“Please what? I won’t know what you want if you don’t tell me,” he hums, hand going to play with the fabric beginning to bunch under your waist.

He slots himself between your legs and your knees rest against his hips. You wish you could see him, look at the expression on his face. You wish you could watch him press kisses to your skin, watch his fingers tighten against you the way they are now, the way his nails scratch lightly against your skin between the slits of your nightgown.

“More, please,” he hears you ask weakly. “I need more of you. Rafayel? Please?”

He thinks he should tease you more but considering your current state and his own desperation he decides not to. Instead, he pushes up the fabric on your legs slowly, trying to see if you’ll stop him. When you don’t and instead try to egg him on by making it easier for him, he lets his hands rest on your thighs now laid bare for his hungry gaze.

“Are you sure? This is really something you want?”

The question is desperate, Rafayel not knowing if he wants you to stop him or not. His body longs to be pressed against yours, to make you say his name that prettily over and over again. He thinks he’ll die if he can’t have it, kissing lower and lower over the fabric on your chest to convince you to say yes.

He doesn’t know that he doesn’t have to fight that hard for you.

You clasp your fingers with his, bringing them to rest on the inside of your thighs. He’s glad he can’t see the look in your eyes, knowing that if he did it’d make all of his resolve crack if this is how bold you’re already being without being able to see the effect you have on him.

Tentatively, he brings his fingers closer to the heat burning between your legs. It doesn’t take him long to feel the damp spot between your legs and recognise that it’s getting damper with each kiss he gives you. You start to whine as his fingers tease your slit through your underwear, your body feeling things you didn’t know you could feel just with his touch.

“I didn’t know you were capable of such dirty things Your Highness.”

Despite his teasing words, you can tell he wants it just as much when he slips his fingers between the fabric and your body, fingers haphazardly exploring your body as he kisses your lips again. He swallows each moan you give him desperately, relishing in the whimper you give him when his fingertips start circling your clit.

“You’re the one doing this to me,” you whine, hips bucking against his palm as his fingers slip inside.

“You’re the one who started this. I’ll stop whenever you tell me to,” he mumbles against your neck.

Your moans are louder now and as much as he’d love to have everyone hear how good he makes you feel he also would hate it if your maid came in and saw what was happening. He covers your mouth with his free hand, ignoring the way it feels to have your gasps pressed up against his palm. He wants to ruin you, make you cry and scream from pleasure and have you be his for the rest of time but here, in the quiet of your bedroom he’ll settle for just this for now.

His hand stays focused, letting you moan and gasp into his palm as he fingers you. You feel his palm rest against your body, thumb replacing his finger as he the heel to rest against your core. He can make out gasps of his name when he hits a certain part inside of you and decides it’s too cruel to keep your mouth covered like this. You immediately moan his name, quieter this time to avoid being heard by your staff.

You clench around his fingers, the hand not bracing against his chest going to grab his wrist. Rafayel gives you a breathy laugh and you bury your face against his neck, continuing to moan and plead for him quietly.

“Please – Rafayel – I –“

Your own words are cut off quickly by your impending orgasm, biting into his shoulder to try and hold back your noises as your hips arch into him. The bite of your clothes against your skin as you writhe does nothing to impede the feeling of his hand on your cunt, Rafayel’s voice gently talking you through your orgasm. Stars litter the space of your eyelids, Rafayel’s arm coming to hold you against him.

When you finally come down you find yourself placed carefully in Rafayel’s lap. He’s taken off his shirt and unbuttoned his pants, gently tracing shapes on the skin of your lower back. Your blindfold is still on but you don’t doubt that the hard planes of your bed is Rafayel and when you hear his voice come from just above you you know you’re right.

“You’re awful to me, did you know that?” he muses, groaning slightly when you reposition yourself slightly and brush up against his cock.

“Stop that! I can’t believe you right now.”

“I’m just trying to get comfortable! This is just as much your fault as it is mine,” you say hazily.

You sit up on your knees, carefully putting your arms around his shoulders. You reach behind yourself to touch him, shuddering at the gasp he gives you against your arm. You feel his tip prodding gently against your opening, sinking down slightly. When you hear him gasp again you know you have him where you want him.

“You really want this?” you ask him huskily, mirroring his words from before.

Your hand rests on his cheek and you can feel him nod, continuing your slow descent onto his lap. It takes you a second to adjust to his size, hugging his neck tighter as you moan. His hands come to rest on your hips and he shifts slightly to create a better angle for himself. This makes him sink into you just the slightest bit deeper, you whimpering pathetically as he starts a slow, languid pace thrusting into you.

“Rafayel!” you gasp, hands bunching in his hair as you let him dictate the pace.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, Your Highness. I’m here for you. Don’t worry – I’ll make you feel good. You know I will,” he mutters into your ear, continuing his gentle grind into you.

For the umpteenth time you wish that you could see him. For now, you have to sate yourself with his pretty moans and gasps, the way he feels inside of you and the affectionate kisses he peppers across your skin. Thanks to his pace you feel yourself coming to a slow build of your orgasm, his soft words of praise and coaxes going straight to your cunt. He groans every time you clench around him, the feeling of your pussy finally being wrapped around him making it hard for his mind to stop swimming.

He angles his hips to find that spot inside of you that makes you see stars, bringing a hand down to your clit despite how much he loves holding you because he knows he’ll love the feeling of you cumming around him more. When you give him a sharp gasp he knows he’s found it, thrusting more insistently. You grind against his pelvis, not wanting it to be over too quickly but still desperate for your release.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Rafayel asks, pulling you out of the depths of your stupor just barely.

“I can feel it. You’re getting so tight around me – if you squeeze me like this then I’ll cum too. It’s okay, just let go. I told you I’d make you feel good, didn’t I? You’ve already done so well. Just a little bit more, okay?” he coaxes, the sound of his voice tipping you over the edge.

You cum with a broken cry of his name, holding onto his shoulders tightly. It takes him just a couple more strokes inside of you to cum himself, unable to think of anything but filling you up and claiming you as his in this small way. The two of you sit together, coming down from your shared high. You whine a little about still wearing the blindfold but that’s quickly quieted by him kissing you again, telling you that it’s part of the condition for him kissing you.

Your breathing slows together and after a minute he feels you becoming dead weight. He laughs to himself when he realises that you’ve fallen asleep on him, carefully moving you aside to lay you back down on your bed. After cleaning the two of you up and tucking you into bed he gives you one final kiss to your forehead. You make a small noise of complaint, Rafayel kneeling at the side of your bed to take one last look at you for the night. His hand rests on your cheek softly, pretending that this didn’t drastically change everything.

“I love you. Sleep well, my Princess,” he whispers, the far away sound of waves lapping on a shore the only witness to his words.  

#love and deepspace #rafayel #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace rafayel #love and deepspace x reader #rafayel smut

[megalony]

You Need To Choose

This is an Evan Buckley imagine, requested by anon. I love writing tropes like this so thank you for sending it in and I hope you will all like it. Feedback always makes my day.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz

Buck Masterlist

Summary: Evan saves a woman who then becomes very attached to him. While he is at work, she visits his home and takes his pregnant wife hostage.

Enjoy.

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

Oh God, why was she back again?

Her smile did something to unnerve Evan, although he wasn't altogether sure why. It was the way she looked at him, like there was some kind of aura around him that nobody else had. It unsettled him, it made him panicked and uneasy and unsure about how to act or what to do.

Evan could feel his hands suddenly start to drag up and down his thighs in an anxious habit that reminded him of (Y/n). He didn't realise how many of her anxious traits he had too until he noticed the way (Y/n) would fidget or cling to him when she was nervous or ready to go home if they were out somewhere.

"Hi Buck,"

He fought hard to smile and try to be polite. It wouldn't be kind if he stared at her blankly or let his unease become visible.

"Hi… are you okay? Can I help you with something?"

Evan tucked his hands into his pockets as he stood in front of her but kept a safe distance of three feet between them.

This marked the third time Cara had come by the station and the second time, Evan had been lucky enough to be out on a call. She was only stopping by to talk to him, she didn't want to see any of the team. She asked for him the first time she popped round and she came to say thank you.

It had been very sweet, not many people willingly came by the station to thank any of the team when they helped people out of bad situations. They said thank you on the scene but never followed up and it was nice for Evan to see Cara was doing well. He often wondered about the people they saved, if they were okay, if they were happy or struggling. If they remembered the people who came to help them.

The second time, Evan had been uneasy when Chimney told him Cara came by again but left when she was told Evan was out.

Now she was back again, and Evan couldn't see why. She had thanked him the first time and he told her it was his job, he didn't do this for praise although it was lovely of her to stop and say thank you.

She had been trapped in a crumbling building when the team turned up at the scene and Cara had been seconds away from crashing through a window and falling to her death when Eddie and Evan got there. Evan went down on a rope and managed to grab her before she fell. He could see how it would shake her up and make her grateful, but he couldn't see why she would come back again and again to thank him when she didn't have to.

"I'm a lot better now, thank you. I thought I'd stop by and give you these."

Evan had been preoccupied wondering why she was here and missed the tuppaware box she had in her hands. When he leaned forward, he realised she had made some sort of cake.

The team got a lot of food, mainly chocolates or baked goods to say thank you and that was usually around Christmas or Easter.

Evan wasn't used to getting gifts from the people they saved, a polite thank you and a hug was always more than enough for him. He got enough gifts from the team and his family on special occasions. The last gift he got was (Y/n)'s gift on his birthday telling him he was going to be a dad. That had given him a whole new high he never felt before.

"Thank you," He tried his best to smile and took the box when she suddenly thrust it into his hands. "You didn't have to do that."

"It's the least I could do for my hero."

He could feel his smile fading away when she reached up and wrapped an arm around his neck to pull him into a hug.

He usually gave small hugs on the scene after saving someone, not weeks later when they came by to say thank you. He wasn't sure what to do. It wouldn't do him good to stand like an uncomfortable statue but he also didn't want to hug her as if they were good friends or give her the wrong impression. Evan was big on hugs and physical contact but only with close friends and family.

He was always messing about with Bobby and Eddie but they were more like family. Evan didn't do so well with strangers.

"Okay… take care." His smile was definitely more forced this time and looked more like a grimace when Cara finally let him go when she seemed to realise he wasn't hugging her back.

It wouldn't be professional to hug her back. He hadn't done anything to warrant a hug, he saved her almost three weeks ago and she said thank you on the scene. She wasn't a friend, she wasn't family or someone Evan knew well enough to have physical contact with. And he was married. He didn't want nor need to be hugging her.

As soon as she left the station, Evan turned around and let his shoulders deflate. He sighed and gritted his teeth as he looked over towards Hen who was checking the inventory in the ambulance.

"What'd you get?"

"Cake, I think." He hoped.

"Taking it home for (Y/n)?" She poked her tongue out between her teeth and grinned widely but the grin started to slip when Evan shook his head and frowned like she'd just insulted him. "You get given cake- something your extremely pregnant wife loves, and you're not taking it home for her?"

"Not when I don't know who's made it." Evan brought the tuppaware box up to his eyes and squinted through the plastic. "I don't know what's in it, I'm not risking giving that to (Y/n). Do you want it?"

He could see the wheels turning in Hen's mind and she hummed, pursing her lips as she suddenly agreed with him.

It was a lovely gesture, but Evan didn't know Cara. He didn't know if she would lace the cake like one woman had done with the brownies she sent in. Evan didn't know if she would drug the cake or add some strange ingredient. It was too risky to take home to (Y/n) when Evan got a bad vibe from Cara as it was. He wasn't giving her food baked by a stranger.

(Y/n) was nine months pregnant, Evan wouldn't risk giving her something that might make her sick. He'd rather play it safe and buy her cake on the way home from shift.

"Erm, maybe not."

Evan nodded her way before he walked towards the stairs and on his way past, he tossed the box in the bin. It was a kind gesture, but he wasn't eating it and Bobby had rules. No food or drink to be accepted from strangers. It didn't matter how kind they were or what lovely intentions they had, no one should accept food. Only close friends and family could bake goods and bring them into the station.

And something told Evan not to try that cake.

***

"What are you doing?"

A gasp burned past (Y/n)'s lips and her left hand clutched the curtain rail while she flapped her right hand out. She grabbed Evan's shoulder to steady herself when she suddenly felt his hands tightly digging into her hips and his chest press up against her hips and bum.

"Evan don't do that!" She bashed her hand against his chest before she moved back to clutching his shoulder when she wobbled.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and she scowled down at her husband while he pressed his chin against her hip and stared up at her with that stern expression that made her weak at the knees. She slowly let go of the curtain rail and shuffled around on the stool until she was fully facing Evan.

Her hands held his shoulders as she hunched over in a silent plea for him to help her down.

"The curtain came down again, I was putting it back up." She mumbled when Evan locked his arms in place and kept her stood high up above him. She watched him tilt his head forward and press his lips against her bump while his hands curved round from her hips to hold the back of her waist.

He let her lean her weight down onto him and slowly eased her down until she was safely back on her feet. (Y/n)'s hands stayed on Evan's shoulders and she tilte dher head back to look up at him.

"And you thought giving me a heart attack was worth it?" His eyes darted between (Y/n) and the curtain until she leaned forward and buried her face in his chest.

He peered into the nursery and saw her standing on a stool, leaning heavily on the window. And from his angle, it looked like she was unsteady and about to fall. Evan didn't need that kind of panic when he was already on edge as it was. He had one more week of work and (Y/n) was bang on nine months now. Her due date was next week and Evan was panicking that she was going to go into labour while he was at work.

He didn't need to walk round the house and see her daring to stand on a stool like that and risk a fall.

"I've done it now, I was fine until you scared me."

"Well next time just tell me rather than risking a fall." Evan was taller, he could reach the curtain rail without straining or going on his tiptoes. (Y/n) didn't have to do it by herself when she could just tell him and he would sort it.

Her hands tightened on his shoulders and she tilted her head back so her chin was tucked into the middle of his chest. The way she batted her lashes at him made Evan's chest tighten and she knew she had won him over when his stern look faded into a soft smile.

"How do you feel today?" He let his hand slide down to cradle her stomach and his head tilted to the side. They both knew what he was actually asking.

(Y/n) looked down and let her fingers glide down Evan's arm until she cupped his wrist.

"Just kicking, they're not coming today. You can relax, baby Buckley is staying put for today." Her thumb smoothed across the back of Evan's hand which she moved to the lower right side of her stomach so he could feel a small kick.

She wasn't feeling any strange movements or feeling the baby turning round yet. No more lower back pain than usual and no dull aches or cramps anywhere that would imply labour. They still had a few more days or even a week left. Evan could go to work calm, knowing he wasn't going to miss anything today.

"Good. You're not allowed to go into labour without me."

"I know, but I'm not holding out much longer. The baby might not be ready, but I am."

"Just three more shifts, baby girl. Wait three more shifts, for me, please?" Evan lifted his hand to cup her chin and tilted her head back while he smoothed his thumb across her lower lip that he pinched to watch her take a sharp breath.

He knew (Y/n) was getting restless. He hadn't known her take so many baths as she had in the last three months, but it was where she felt most comfortable and where the baby seemed to settle and sleep. (Y/n) was tired. She thought she would of had the baby by now, she thought she wouldn't make it to her due date. But the baby seemed very comfy and cosy and (Y/n) was getting fed up of waiting.

Evan, on the other hand, was somehow containing his excitement. He had agreed with Bobby to work right up until (Y/n)'s due date because it gave him an extra two weeks off after the baby was born. Rather than taking time off in the lead up to the birth. He would rather work until (Y/n) had the baby and then he could have a few straight weeks off to be home and help her with the baby.

He had barely taken any annual leave this year so he had a lot stored up that he could take when the baby was born in case (Y/n) or the baby were ill or needed him. Or in case he had a hard time going back to work, he had a feeling he wouldn't be able to settle back at work and leave his family at home.

"Sweet-talker," (Y/n) muttered quietly before she pushed up on her toes and pressed a kiss to his lips.

He enticed a gasp from her lips when he sank his teeth into her bottom lip so he could swipe his tongue past her lips. (Y/n) could feel his hand tightening in the back of her shirt and he tugged her closer until she was tightly meshed against his front.

"You'll be late."

"Hm," He grinned and panted against her lips as his nose brushed against hers until she shook her head when it started to tickle. "You call me if you need me, even if you just feel sick. I've always got my phone on me now and if you can't get hold of me, call Bobby."

"I promise." Her lips attached to the side of his neck and she curled her arms around his shoulders to pull him down to her. Her face buried into his shoulder and she could feel his chest vibrating with a chuckle.

(Y/n) seemed to be promising Evan every shift that she would call him if she needed anything. She never did. Maddie was always popping round to check in and make sure she was alright when she knew Evan was at work and so far (Y/n) had been fine. But she knew Evan had cleared it with Bobby for (Y/n) to be able to get hold of him because if she needed him, he had to be able to answer.

Her hands trailed to his shoulders and she leaned back when Evan bent forward and pressed his lips against her stomach. His hand slipped beneath her shirt to dance across her skin because he knew it made her shimmy and squirm.

"Be good. Don't make an appearance until daddy comes home."

When Evan felt a kick near his lips, he grinned. (Y/n) tangled her fingers through his curls and steadily stroked them towards the back of his head while she rolled her eyes.

"They're definitely going to be a daddy's child."

***

"Hello?" (Y/n) tightened her hand around the door handle and tried to form a calm smile when she opened the door.

She wasn't expecting visitors today, she wasn't even sure that Maddie would stop by today or if she was at work. (Y/n) had been expecting to spend another calm day at home and tuck herself up in bed until Evan came home later on tonight.

(Y/n) didn't recognise the woman on the other side of the door. She had shoulder-length gritty blonde hair that was slightly damp from the hot weather and it made her hair curl and crimp at the ends. She had one hand curled around her bag on her shoulder and the other was planted firmly on her hip.

Whoever she was, she didn't seem happy to see (Y/n) opening the door. Had she gotten the wrong address? Was she looking for a friend or family?

"Who are you?" Her demanding question took (Y/n) by surprise and the smile faded from her lips as she clung a bit tighter to the door. It should be (Y/n) saying that, not whoever this woman was.

"I-"

"Where's Buck, is he home?"

The way she leaned to try and peer around (Y/n) into the house made a shiver crawl down (Y/n)'s spine.

So whoever she was, she clearly had the right address. She was looking for Evan. (Y/n) dared not think why this woman was looking for him, she seemed rather put-out at seeing (Y/n) instead. And the way she was tapping her foot against the doorstep made (Y/n) uneasy, it was like (Y/n) was wasting her time.

"He's at work right now… can I help you? I'm his wife." It seemed to be the wrong thing to say.

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and braced her left hand out on the wall when the woman in front of her took a stumbling step backwards. It was as if (Y/n) had gone and slapped her.

Who was she? How did she know Evan but not know that he was married? He wore a silver band on his ring finger for God's sake, that was a big giveaway. His lockscreen was a picture of them when they were on holiday and his home screen was a more daring picture of (Y/n) that not many people saw or noticed.

Evan didn't hide the fact that he was married, he told just about anyone and he had been high as a kite these last few months at the notion of being a father. His friends were mainly the people he worked with and the few friends he knew from college. All of whom (Y/n) had met and gone out with on quite a few occasions.

Their circle of friends was close-knit, small and secure. And this woman was not a part of that circle.

"His- no, he's not married." Cara's hand tightened on her hip and she tried to smirk, but the look faded again when (Y/n) simply frowned.

"Excuse me?"

(Y/n) could feel her annoyance beginning to build up like a fire ebbing away at her and growing with each passing second. She was tired, she wanted to go to bed and lie down and dwindle away the hours until Evan came home. The last thing (Y/n) wanted was an argument on her own doorstep because some derranged woman had turned up out of the blue.

"Who are you?"

"I told you, I'm his wife. He isn't here, do you want me to call him?" (Y/n) wasn't playing this silly game. She didn't have to prove that she was married to Evan. It was up to this woman to explain what she wanted Evan for and either call him herself or leave.

(Y/n) leaned her weight on the wall when the baby started to move and press down on her hips.

But when she watched the way the stranger in front of her suddenly stared down at her stomach, (Y/n) felt like wishing the ground to swallow her whole. She could feel the daggers burning into her stomach and the woman's face turned a dark shade of red like the epitome of anger was right here in front of her.

The silence was unbearable, until (Y/n) strained hard to hear what this woman was suddenly muttering under her breath. Then, (Y/n) was suddenly desperate for the silence to come back.

"Pregnant? You're having his kid? You can't be. You can't be."

It was like those were the only words this woman could comprehend and it made (Y/n) shiver.

Was this the lady who kept turning up at the station? Evan mentioned a woman kept stopping by even after she thanked him and the team for saving her. (Y/n) didn't think anything of it because Evan didn't seem to elaborate or make much of a fuss.

"I think you need to leave now."

"I'm not going anywhere!"

(Y/n) shuddered and quickly backed up when the woman smashed her hand out into the door and slammed it so violently it hit the wall and rebounded into (Y/n)'s arm. She felt a bolt of electricity shooting down her elbow towards her hand that spasmed in pain but she swallowed down a cry.

There was no time for (Y/n) to try and slam the door shut, let alone think about locking the door to keep herself and her baby safe.

Before she could move, the woman was over the threshold and pushing her way into the house.

(Y/n) tried to bash her hands out but she recoiled her hands to her chest with a gasp when something sharp caught the side of her wrist and burned down her arm.

She had a knife. A swiss army knife, to be exact.

It was a red rectangular plastic with a lot of various sized blades tucked away and even a thin set of scissors attached. (Y/n) didn't see her take that out of her bag, she moved far too quickly and it was very unsettling to know this woman carried one around with her in her bag.

"Where is he?!"

"I- I told you, he's at work- please stop. Why do you want to see him?" (Y/n) tried to swipe away the small trickle of blood from her wrist but she lashed her left hand out again when the woman moved the knife near her stomach. She wasn't going to harm the baby. (Y/n) wouldn't let her.

"I want him! He's mine- he saved me. We've been out on dates, bet you didn't know that."

It took all (Y/n) had not to roll her eyes or make a sarcastic sound. As if she would truly believe Evan could be the way he was around her and then go behind her back with someone else. He wouldn't be this clingy and attached to (Y/n) if he really was going out with someone else and he wouldn't be so excited about having their baby if he wanted to leave (Y/n).

She knew her husband and she knew he was as devoted to her as she was to him. Everyone at the station was always telling her that. Clearly this woman had either been reading the signals wrong, or she had been living in a fantasy that had just broken.

"He isn't here-"

"So call him and get him here!"

When the knife moved closer to her stomach, (Y/n) backed up into the lounge and nodded. Her hands started to tremble as she turned and looked around for her phone. This woman had to be derranged. She clearly didn't have Evan's number or she would have called him herself and unless Evan had a secret phone he wasn't telling (Y/n) about, he couldn't be having an affair.

No one nowadays had affairs where they only talked in person or through the post. This woman didn't have Evan's number, she had no way of contacting him and it was clear she had never been to the house before. Her fantasy was unravelling because she was realising Evan had a life and a family that she wasn't part of.

(Y/n) slowly pointed to her phone and picked it up just as she felt the knife press against the side of her abdomen. She couldn't make any sudden movements unless she wanted to risk harming the baby.

"H-he might not be able to answer, if he's out on a call…" (Y/n)'s fingers trembled as she unlocked her phone.

Her lips pressed together in a thin line when she looked at her home screen. Evan, lying in bed with one hand tangled in his hair and a cheesy grin on his face as he squinted up at the camera.

Her thumb hovered over Evan's icon at the bottom of her phone where two hearts surrounded 'hubby'.

"Either he answers, or he truly doesn't love you. He wouldn't leave you alone ready to pop without a way for you to contact him, would he?"

It didn't feel safe to tell this woman that they had protocols and plans in place for that kind of event. If Evan couldn't answer the phone, (Y/n) was supposed to ring Bobby. If he didn't answer, she had the fire station emergency line where someone at the station would answer and they could radio through to Evan. He would get (Y/n)'s message either way, but right now, she needed her husband to answer the phone.

God knows what this woman would do if he didn't pick up.

"What do I tell him?" She couldn't risk getting a knife to the stomach if she said the wrong thing or said something this lady didn't want her to say. (Y/n) needed to know what to do.

"Tell him to come home. Tell him Cara's here and she needs to see him, if he doesn't… I think you know what will happen."

(Y/n) let herself slump down on the sofa as she clicked Evan's icon and pressed the phone against her ear. Her free hand tangled in her hair before she moved to press the back of her hand against her mouth to stop herself from crying. But she couldn't fight off the few tears that silently slipped down the bridge of her nose.

The baby was twisting. Her stomach was flooding with adrenaline. Her body was shaking from the panic. She felt like she was going to be sick. (Y/n) wanted her husband more than ever.

"Sweetheart, everything okay? Is it time, is the baby coming?" Words rambled past Evan's lips and he couldn't see the relief on (Y/n)'s face when he started to speak. He knew she wouldn't ring him unless it was urgent or an emergency.

"Evan, can you come home please?"

"Baby are you okay?" He could hear the wobble in her voice and it made his heart clench. He would come home, she knew he would, but Evan had to know what the situation was and why he was coming home. He had to know if (Y/n) was in labour or if she had fallen or was feeling sick or felt like something was wrong. He needed the specifics.

"Cara's here, a-and she wants to talk to you… it's important, please come home."

"Cara? What's she doing at the house- how does she know where we live?" Evan tangled his fingers in the short curls at the back of his head as he spun round in a circle.

How did she know where he lived? Why had she turned up at his house and not the station?

Oh God, had she been following him to know where he lived?

"Baby are you hurt, please tell me she hasn't hurt you?"

(Y/n) darted her eyes to the left and glanced over at Cara to see if she could hear Evan through the phone or not. She looked a little calmer now but the fire was still burning in her eyes. She was sat on the arm of the sofa next to (Y/n), the army knife still dangerously close to (Y/n)'s stomach just to show her she still meant business.

When she looked up, she noticed Cara had seen her eyes darting down to the knife and something sinister flickered across her face.

"You can tell him I have a knife with me. And I will use it if he doesn't take us seriously."

"Did- she's got a fucking knife?!" Evan's feet moved before he could comprehend what he was doing or where he was going. He needed help. He needed someone to come down to his house with him. He was sure he heard Cara say she would use her knife. He couldn't have her threatening or hurting (Y/n). Especially not when she was so close to giving birth.

"Evan-" (Y/n) shuddered and took a sharp breath when the phone was suddenly snatched from her hand.

"Buck, it's me. Are you on your way?"

"What are you doing at my house? Don't you dare hurt my wife! I swear to God I'll-"

"Enough talk. You need to come home now, so you can choose who you really want to be with. You need to choose the right woman for you."

(Y/n) flinched when she heard Evan begin to yell before the call ended and Cara tossed the phone on the floor. At least Evan would be coming home soon. (Y/n) wouldn't have to be on her own with this unhinged woman for much longer.

For a little while, (Y/n) began rubbing her hands up and down her thighs and across her knees as something to distract herself. She was desperate to run her hands over her stomach and try to settle the baby but she didn't dare draw attention to her stomach. Not when the knife was still held so close to her that she could almost feel it.

Part of her prayed that Evan would bring someone from the station with him, maybe Bobby or perhaps he could get hold of Athena. But she wasn't sure what Cara would do if he turned up with anyone else and if he called the police, everything would get worse.

Both women turned to look at each other when they heard the screeching of tyres in the drive.

It had to be Evan.

"Up. Now."

A shiver rocketed through (Y/n) but she did as requested, she didn't exactly have a choice.

Her lips pressed into a thin line and her hands coiled around her chest when the knife jabbed into the left side of her waist. She could feel the jagged edge beginning to pull the threads on her shirt and if Cara pushed just a little, she would pierce through into (Y/n)'s skin.

Cara's other hand moved to grip the back of (Y/n)'s right arm and she pushed her to stand near the window just as Evan banged his knuckles on the door.

"Baby it's me." The door was open but Evan felt apprehensive about going inside. He didn't know what he was going to be walking into, he had no idea if (Y/n) was okay, if she was going to be in shock or crying or hurt or oddly calm. He didn't know what state Cara would be in either.

"You'd better be alone. No one else comes in or I'll hurt her." Cara tightened her hand on (Y/n)'s arm and kept the knife in place to stop (Y/n) from moving when they both watched Evan walk through the hall.

He had his hands out in front of him to show he wasn't about to do anything. He had Bobby waiting outside in the car, but Evan wasn't stupid enough to tell Cara that. And Bobby was on the phone to Athena who was going to send a squad car down here without lights or sirens so Cara didn't get disgruntled.

"It's just me." Evan walked around the corner and paused near the sofa.

(Y/n) saw the way his eyes darkened and his broad shoulders tensed and lifted up when he looked at them. He lowered his hands down to his sides and clenched his hands into fists while his biceps started to push against his cuffed sleeves.

A quiet 'good' murmured past Cara's lips and she smiled triumphantly while her eyes focused on Evan. He stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands down on the back of the sofa. It showed how tense his arms were and they both heard his neck crack when he twisted his head from side to side.

"Are you okay?" Evan focused his eyes on his wife. She had a cut on her right wrist but it didn't look too extensive. He could see her trembling and tears were traced down her features, but she didn't look too shook up which is all he could ask for right now.

"She's fine."

(Y/n) bit her lip but she nodded, she didn't want Evan to worry, she was as fine as she could be in this situation.

"I'd feel a lot better if you weren't holding a knife to her stomach. Can you put it down, please?" It felt horrid to try and be reasonable and bargain with Cara but Evan needed her to stop holding (Y/n) like that. She was going to hurt her or send her into shock and Evan didn't want either of those things happening.

"No. Sit down, we need to talk."

Evan locked his jaw when Cara gave (Y/n) a sudden push towards the armchair beneath the window. He watched with narrowed eyes as (Y/n) slumped down into the chair and dug her nails into the arm rest while her other hand moved to press against her stomach.

When Cara perched down on the arm rest and kept the knife against (Y/n)'s stomach, Evan moved round and sat on the very edge of the sofa. His knees spread out to the sides and his hands clasped together and hung between his knees.

"You didn't tell me about her." The way Cara inclined her head towards (Y/n) and her upper lip curled in distaste made Evan take a deep breath. "You led me on. I've been to visit you at work, I've been out with you, and no mention of her."

For a second, Evan frowned and looked up at Cara like she had grown a second head.

But then it dawned on him. He'd seen her when he was out at the shop last week. He'd seen her again when he went for a drink with Chimney and Eddie after shift. He even saw her at the gas station walking past while he was filling the jeep. Nothing about those instances had seemed strange because Cara barely spoke to him on each occasion.

Had she thought seeing him out in public meant they were going out together? Did she somehow concoct a whole story with Evan without him realising? Had she been following him instead of simply bumping into him in the street?

"I'm sorry, but you can see why I didn't tell you… I was married before I met you." Evan didn't exactly know what to say, but he knew he had to try and go along with this for a little while. He had to calm Cara down enough to get (Y/n) out the house, then he could sort out this mess. He just needed his family out the way and safe.

"Well now you have a problem. You can't have both of us, so you have to choose."

The knife pressed closer into (Y/n)'s stomach and she flinched. She shuffled as close to the right as she could until she was curled around the arm of the chair with her arms around her chest and her eyes locked on Evan.

"Will you let (Y/n) leave then, so you and me can talk in private?"

He could see she wasn't expecting that response, and Cara didn't know what to do. Evan was trying to get (Y/n) out safely, he wanted her out the house and out of harms way and Cara might be able to see that. But she also couldn't pass up the chance that Evan might just want to pick her and talk this through with her.

"What about the baby? If you leave her, will you leave the baby too?" When Cara jabbed the knife into (Y/n)'s side to prove her point, (Y/n) visibly winced and bit down her cry.

"We can talk about that when (Y/n) leaves us alone," Evan was losing his patience now, he couldn't play pretend for much longer.

Cara seemed to debate it for a few seconds before she nodded but her actions contradicted her gesture when she moved the knife and against (Y/n)'s neck. She seemed to revel in the way (Y/n) whimpered and leaned back and more tears drenched her face.

"Go upstairs. You're not leaving the house to call any of your little friends."

(Y/n) could feel the knife pressing tightly into her neck until it pierced the skin and a small trickle of blood trailed down the side of her neck, but she couldn't move. Her hands stayed locked around the arm of the chair and she closed her eyes for a few seconds. She didn't feel well enough to move. Everything within (Y/n) was telling her to move, to get up and go and keep the baby safe.

She knew Evan could look after himself, he could get the knife off Cara and calm her down until they could get the police here. But she couldn't find the will power to move when her stomach was twisting and she felt sick.

"Sweetheart," Evan chomped down on his tongue when Cara sent him a warning look. "(Y/n), go."

"Are you stupid? Move, he's told you he doesn't want you here anymore."

Tears tumbled down (Y/n)'s face and she stumbled up to her feet when Cara gave her a rough shove between the shoulders and she felt the knife slide down her neck, creating a superficial wound.

(Y/n) could feel her knees quaking but she couldn't stop the small cry from errupting past her lips when she looked down. Both her hands cradled her stomach and she darted her wild, panicked eyes to look over at Evan. She watched the way her husband tensed up and his eyes bulged in their sockets.

Her waters had broken.

"Evan…" She didn't know what she wanted to say or what she wanted her husband to do, but (Y/n) needed Evan to do something.

She cringed and pinned her elbows into her waist when Cara snagged a handful of her hair and pulled her head right back until her neck felt like it had broken.

"You've done this on purpose! This is to make sure he won't leave you- you bitch!"

"Let her go- Cara that's enough!" Evan raised his voice out of instinct and bolted up from the sofa when he saw the knife move near (Y/n)'s stomach. He couldn't let her do anything to his wife. She was frightened and in pain and now she was going to go into labour at the worst possible time. Evan had to keep them both safe and away from Cara.

(Y/n) reached her hands out for Evan when he stumbled towards her. She let out a scream when the knife swiped near her stomach just as she tried to lunge forward and pull out of Cara's tight grip on her hair.

Her hands curled around Evan's arm and she let him yank her forwards until he had her safely behind him. Evan hated the way he felt (Y/n) go down on her knees behind him and he felt her hands scratch down his back and his leg but he couldn't grab her. He had to reach forward for Cara who tried to lunge with a violent scream that almost deafened him.

The knife slashed the inside of Evan's palm but the adrenaline countered out the slight sting he barely felt. He curled his fingers around the blade and pulled until he had hold of the weapon which he launched somewhere behind him. He heard it clatter against the bannister and was satisfied it was far enough away so Cara couldn't reach for it again just as he heard the front door swing open.

"Buck?!"

Evan had never been happier to hear Bobby's voice and the thudding sound of approaching footsteps told him that someone else was in the house too. Someone else was here to help. He latched his fingers around Cara's wrist and pushed until they both stumbled and a scream tore from her lips when they clashed into the armchair.

When hands grabbed his shoulders, Evan let go and allowed whoever it was to reel him backwards until he was towards the sofa.

He realised it was Bobby who had hold of him and Athena was now stood in front of him like a bodyguard, trying to move and calm Cara enough to arrest her.

"Buck, Buck, come on, up." Bobby slipped his hands beneath Evan's arms and pulled until Evan bent his knees and managed to stand up. He could feel Bobby turning him in the right direction and giving him a helpful nudge until he moved towards (Y/n).

She was cowering down on the floor behind the sofa, one hand braced on the arm of the sofa with her other hand cradling her stomach.

Tears flooded down her face and she could barely see when Evan held her chin and tilted her head up so they were level again. His thumb swiped across her lips and (Y/n) could see his eyes raking over her to see what injuries she had. Her wrist was aching but it had already stopped bleeding, it was more of a nuisance than anything. There was a slight pinch in the left side of her stomach and (Y/n) knew Evan could see the small trickle of blood soaking into her shirt.

The knife had given her another superficial cut on the side of her abdomen that was nothing to worry about. But the look in Evan's eyes said it all; he wasn't impressed, not in the least.

(Y/n) curled her hand tightly around Evan's wrist when his hand slid round to cradle the back of her neck. He leaned closer until (Y/n) could bury her face in his neck and his other arm curved around her waist to keep her tucked up against his chest.

"Alright, alright sweetheart I've got you. It's okay." He spoke quietly into the top of her head as he felt her tears soaking into his neck and it made him shiver.

"Are you both alright?" Bobby rested his hand on Evan's shoulder as he crouched down and tried to assess them. He knew Evan's hand was bleeding, he could see the blood pooling between his fingers and trickling steadily down his wrist. But he hadn't been inside when everything turned south, Bobby hadn't seen if they had been hurt before he and Athena barged in.

"Her water broke."

"Right, then we need to take a trip down to the hospital."

(Y/n) tried to keep her face tucked up into Evan's neck but he gently reeled her back so he could look down at her again. She could feel his thumb smoothing up and down the back of her neck beneath her hair and his other hand began rubbing circles into her lower back. The smile o his face was calming, but not as much as the way his blue eyes seemed to swirl like a light was being shone in his aqua blue iris.

"Let's go have a baby."

#evan buckley x reader #evan buckley #evan buckley imagine #pregnancy #buck x reader #buck imagine #pregnant! reader #911 imagine #imagine #bobby nash

[bxtchycaprisun]

obstinate (6) | a. anderson

summary: you’re a new medic in the WLF base. you’re young, hardworking, and the thing that abby anderson hated the most, stubborn.

notes: fem!reader, medic!reader, protective!abby, soldier!abby, mutual pining, fluffyyy, they are both horny fr, no smut yet but like… you get a little something, manhandling?

taglist: @caitlinisfruity @mattm1964 @liabadoobee @shady-lemur @sweet-lover-girl @novadanversss @paleidiot @ratdungeon @elliesrealw1fe @feelsoseencantdream @mai5mai @thatonementallyillsimp @stunkbiggu @ellabsmasc @vii-v

an: this isn’t my best work and i know this series is probs long forgotten but i still wanted to put this out there! plus there’s a surprise at the end 😚

MDNI!!

after shutting the door gently behind manny, and staring at the wood, abby grins giddily. you were approximately ten feet away, in her room, sleeping under her sheets.

last night, you and her had both given in. you had quit your fighting, you had come to her. and she knew that now it was her turn.

she looks over her shoulder, seeing your figure below the covers, and she sighs. the clock reads 5:51 in the morning.

your face, while peaceful, was still sunken with exhaustion. she walks, her steps gentle and as quiet as she can make them, to your side. once again, she settles beside the bed, against the thin sleeping bag.

she took your hand that was still hanging over the bedside, pushing it silently towards your chest, and pulling the covers up your shoulder.

she turns to the side, leaning up on towards her window. she tugs the blinds down, securing any crooked ones individually with her thumb, to ensure the room was as dark as possible.

she wanted you to sleep as long as you could. she’d let you sleep for days on end if you’d wanted.

she sighs quietly, laying on her back with her hands clasped at her stomach. the sound of your breath coaxes her into the exhausted state she was in only ten minutes ago, and she quickly falls asleep.

. . .

the sun is already shining bright above the stadium when you’re eyes finally flutter open. you groan softly, rolling on your stomach, and clutching the sheets. you nearly fall back asleep when the smell of pine that had been invading your nose all night finally registers in your mind.

your eyes shoot open as you quickly remember where you are, and you sit up. you scan the room with parted lips, your cheeks growing hot as your memories return.

“i want you to stay this time” she had pleaded. and you told her you would. you smile to yourself as you realized you had meant that. most mornings like this would be filled with regret, followed by you silently grabbing your shoes and fleeing.

but not this morning.

you slide to the edge of the bed, eyeing abby’s shelf of cds to your left. as your feet hit the floor and you take your first step, you quickly feel yourself get caught on a firm, warm body.

“oh shit-”you yelp, tripping over abby’s sleeping form and practically kicking her in the ribs as you fall, sprawling embarrassingly across the floor with the groan.

abby springs up completely, her eyes blown wide as she clutches her stomach. her sleepy gaze focus on you, leaning forward worriedly.

“what is it? are you okay?” she asks quickly, reaching out to you as you pick yourself up.

you turn around quickly, your ears ringing from the awkwardness.

“you- you overslept” you quickly stammer, clutching your surely bruised knee from the fall. “its almost ten!”

you expect abby’s face to contort into worry, but it turns into something else entirely. she starts laughing, clutching her tensed stomach and doubling over.

“what?” you question with furrowed brows, your cheeks hot. “abby..”

“sorry im sorry-” she practically snorts, her cheeks growing pink from her laughter.

“you just-” she giggles breathlessly, “you stepped on me.”

“i didn’t mean to!” you whine, still not finding the situation very funny. “i thought you were gone, you were supposed to be gone.”

“i- i got manny to take my patrol” she breathes out, her laughs slowing but a bright grin still tugging at her lips.

“you-” you look away, finally letting out a small laugh. “i’m so sorry, are you okay? i could’ve broken your ribs!”

abby shakes her head, still clutching her stomach as she laughs uncontrollably again.

“i’m fine, i’m okay.” she assures, watching you like you’re the most inexplainable thing to enter her life. which you are.

“you’re so…” she stops, looking away with a grin. she wanted to say something far too endearing, like adorable, or sweet. but she decides on something tamer.

“clumsy” she finishes, shaking her head. “are you okay?”

you let go of your knee, and rub your ankle absentmindedly.

“just bruised,” you laugh weakly once again. “probably less than you are.”

she sits up, grabbing you gently by the arms and pulling you to your feet. you look up at her, brushing your hair out of your face.

“you missed your patrol?” you ask her with a small frown. “why? i would’ve… waited. like you asked”

abby blushes, shrugging her shoulders gently. she holds your wrists in her hands, not wanting to let go.

“manny owed me.” she says simply. “i didn’t want to make you wait. we’ve got important things to do.”

“important things?” you ask with furrowed brows. “like what?”

“like… training you” she says with a coy smile. she finally lets go of your arms after giving them a gentle squeeze.

she adds on to her statement before you can open your mouth, bending down slightly to meet your eyes.

“just… for a little while,” she nods quickly, her voice slightly nervous.

“i may have been.. wrong. with the way i handled things with isaac” she finally admits, pressing her lips together.

“okay…” you say slowly, watching her with careful eyes.

“but,” she sighs with a smile, “i still want to.. give you some pointers. y’know, before i send you out there.”

your eyes flicker up to meet her, lighting up completely, and your lips pull into a beaming smile.

“you- you’re going to approve me?” you ask hopefully.

“i will..” abby breathes, bringing up her fingers to your forehead. she pulls a piece of hair out of your eyes, her touch fleeting but electrifying. “as long as you entertain this. okay?”

“depends…” you start to hum sneakily, watching her reaction. she narrows her eyes, and tilts her head, preparing to insist .

but you quickly smile, laughing to yourself.

“kidding,” you finally assure. “i’ll entertain it. as long as you let me go.”

“i will,” she nods. “i promise you. just give me today. one day.” she takes a step forward, her eyes sincere. “that’s all i ask.”

you smile, your lips pressed into a fine line. after a short moment, you give her a nod.

“okay,” you say gently. “i’ll give you today.”

abby’s face brightens even more, and she rocks on her heels with her shaky palms now clasped together.

“okay,” she repeats back, looking off to the side and up the stairs.

“use my shower,” she nods towards her bathroom door.

you follow her eyes, seeing the full sized bathroom shared between her and manny; a luxury most wolves didn’t have. all of your showers took place in a communal restrooms where privacy was out of the question.

“all my soap and everything is in my room,” you sigh out.

“use mine,” she says once again, trying not to sound too excited about the idea. “i don’t mind.” she adds nonchalantly.

you nod, turning your head and smiling to yourself. but you quickly furrow your brows and look back.

“but my toothbrush-” you start but are quickly cut off.

“don’t worry about it- we’ve got a whole bunch of unused ones in the closet.” she responds, but her cheeks turn pink.

“cause of manny,” she quickly adds on. “he.. has a lot of guests.”

“ah,” you laugh slightly, “and you don’t?”

you immediately regret your question, as you quite frankly didn’t want to know the answer. it wasn’t your nature to be so flirtatious, but with her, you couldn’t help yourself.

“no,” she says immediately, her tone more sincere than the previously playful exchange. “no, i don’t.”

you blush, mimicking her mannerisms and rocking on your heels. you’d never say it out loud, but you were beyond happy to hear her say that. you didn’t want anyone in her bed. that is, anyone but yourself.

“alright,” you breath, breaking away from her as you walk towards the bathroom.

“take your time,” she calls out, watching you as you shut yourself in. as the door clicks, she springs into action, rushing giddily to the kitchen.

. . .

after finishing your far too long shower, you finally shut the water off. it had been a long time since you felt so.. clean, so rejuvenated. in fact, maybe it had been forever.

you groan softly as you dry yourself off, leaning over her ceiling high mirror.

the soap you used smelled like her. you smelled like her. not just from the shower, but from everything. the last night had restored you, and it had been in her room, in her bed. it wasn’t just the sleep that made you feel better, it was abby.

your fingertips run over your bare skin, and you sigh as you feel where her hands had grazed you the night before.

she cups your shoulder, pushing your dazed, and cried out frame backwards on the bed. “you should get some rest,” she mumbles, pulling the blanket over your figure, and waiting for you to lay down.

your skin feels hot, and you let your head fall into your palms.

shakily, she moves closer to you, tilting your face down. she keeps an unsteady hand on your neck as she brings her lips to your forehead.

you sigh out frustratedly into your hands, suppressing the noise into your skin. abby was just outside the door, preparing to train you.

but there was so much left unsaid.

she wasn’t just letting you go on patrol; she was letting you in.

and you were letting her in too.

you hear a small knock on the door, and look over as abby cracks it open.

“clothes,” she calls out, sticking only her hand through the opening.

you smile, chuckling to yourself as you take the fabric from her fingers. she closes the door gently, and you turn back to the mirror.

“fuck…” you sigh out, staring at your reflection. “okay..”

you silently get dressed into the outfit she had given you. the cargos were too big for you, but you belted them securely around your hips. the shirt was soft and loosed. it smelled, once again, of pine. of her.

you both knew you could just go back to your room to retrieve an outfit. yet you didnt. and she didn’t ask you to.

you take several minute to compose yourself before finally opening the door to the bathroom. you are immediately hit with the smell of bacon.

abby peaks her head around the corner, sporting that signature grin you had grown to adore.

“i made us some breakfast,” she smiles, handing you a piece of toast as she flips the bacon.

“gotta get my-” she starts but falters with wide eyes. “-you ready for our day.”

you lean against her counter, watching her as she finished up.

she looked so good. her muscles half flexed as she flipped the bacon, hair loose and wavy, her hardened nipples poking through the fabric of her shirt…

“you’re staring,” she interrupts your spiraling thoughts with a sly grin, turning to meet your eyes.

you’re breath hitches, surprised but also not at her boldness. you shake your head, brushing off her flirtation. baby steps, you thought.

“i- im just starving,” you immediately defend.

she nods, plating the bacon and an unnecessary amount of toast, and handing it over.

“eat up,” she smiles, and you take it gratefully.

you grow oddly silent as the two of you eat, but it’s comfortable. it feels familiar.

the two of you keep your eyes on your plate, both glancing up at each other, yet your eyes never meet. abby’s foot brushes against your ankle. she thinks about pulling away, but she doesn’t.

“so..” she trails off, watching you with a curious and careful expression. “do you want to talk? about last night?”

you pause, furrowing your brows in thought. you knew this would be brought up eventually, but you remained hesitant.

“i don’t know..” you shake your head. “i don’t have much to say.”

“you don’t have to say anything,” she says immediately back, leaning towards you and clasping her hands over the table.

“just.. just know that there’s nothing wrong with you. everyone has a breaking point…” she trails off, frowning. “hell, it’s a miracle you didn’t reach yours earlier.”

you look away, suddenly feeling embarrassed by your unannounced arrival last night, but her voice calling out your name breaks you out of it.

“hey,” she whispers. “i’m glad you came to me. in fact, i want you to come to me.”

she pauses, her tongue rolling on the inside of her cheek.

“you’re my friend,” she finally speaks, her voice slightly caught in her throat.

you watch her with a quivering bottom lip, feeling like you could cry from her words. it had been a long time since you’d had a friend. someone you could go to no matter what.

“thank you,” you whisper, and you both fall quiet again. the window is cracked at the edge of the room, and you sigh as you take in the fresh air.

“so,” you finally break the silence, finishing as much as you could of your food. “what does our.. training consist of?”

“well,” abby leans back, stretching her arms behind her head with a long yawn. “i want to see you shoot.”

“can do,” you nod, “what else?”

abby smiles at your line of questioning, tilting her head as she watches you.

“i want to see what you can lift,” she says.

“uh-” you laugh weakly to yourself. “you won’t be impressed.”

“i just want to see,” she assures, laughing along with you. “i mean- i know you can’t compare to..” she trails off teasingly, gesturing to herself with her large hands.

“oh hush,” you shake your head, “don’t get all cocky on me.”

“okay okay,” she puts her hands up, her eyes never leaving yours.

“anything else?” you sigh out.

“yeah,” she says, a little more slowly this time. “i want you to uh- you know- fight me.”

you’re face gets hot as memories run through your mind.

her knee digs into your thigh, pinning your leg down as she glares at you from above. each of your hands are in hers, sprawled out above your head.

you shake your head, struggling to snap out of it as you look up at her.

“we’ve already done that once,” you reply, almost in a whisper. you keep a gentle smile on your face, but your heart races at the topic. “you don’t need to prove what we both know again.”

“yeah?” she leans forward. “and what is it that we both know?”

you narrow your eyes at her, sighing in slight frustration. even though you were getting along far better than you ever had, you both had the same stubborn and teasing nature.

“abby,” you breath. “just because i can’t- overpower you, doesn’t mean i’m not ready.”

“i know, i know,” she nods, looking off to the side with a sigh. “you said you’d entertain me on this. i’ll play fair this time, i just want to give you some tips in combat.”

you breath in, rubbing your temples gently as you shut yours eyes.

“fine, fine,” you agree. “you’ve got a deal.”

“alright then,” abby smiles, standing up and reaching a hand out to you. “let’s get started.”

. . .

abby had been pleased with your shooting skills out on the rooftops, and even with your lifting in the west gym.

she knew little, next to nothing actually, of your past before coming to the wlf. but she did know you were training to be a soldier in your childhood.

as she walked by your side through the stadium, glancing down at you fondly every few seconds, she finally had the chance to talk to you about it.

“so you came here a few months ago,” she confirms as the two of you converse. “and you came with a group but they all got stationed at unit 10?”

“that’s right,” you nod, staring down at your feet as you make your way towards the field.

“does that- you know- make you sad?” she asks you softly. “being separated from the people you came with.”

“not really,” you reply honestly. “i wasn’t particularly close with any of them. they were sick of fedra, and so was i. we were all helpful to each other on our way here but..”

you trail off, pressing your lips together. “it was just that. they weren’t family.”

abby frowns, looking forward as your words make her chest tighten.

“do you miss your old qz?” she asks.

“most of the time no,” you say simply, looking up at her. “but sometimes i miss the freedom.”

you cross your arms over your chest, padding quietly beside her.

“most of the people i was around weren’t.. good people,” you say softly. “but with that.. there wasn’t any friendship. any real emotional attachment.”

you pause, feeling her watch you as the two of you make your way outside into the cloudy arena.

“you make that sound like a good thing,” she says with a laugh, but her tone was devoid of any humor.

“sometimes it was,” you admit. “made loss a lot easier.”

abby stops walking, turning to you fully as she observes you with a gentle expression.

“is that why you’re so reserved?” she asks softly. “you don’t want to get attached to people?”

you’re suddenly very aware of the sincere tone in her voice. if it had been any other person asking you these questions, you would have fled long ago. you weren’t one to open up, or complain about your past.

in fact, you had it a lot better than a lot of people this day and age. you never knew your parents, or had any family. you never had many close friends, and you never fell in love.

you’re life may have been pretty lonely, depressing even. but it was free of heartbreak. it was free of grief.

you had the feeling abby’s was the opposite. and so did she.

“i don’t want to be reliant on anyone,” you respond simply. part of you hoped that would be the last of her questions, but another part of you begged for her to ask more. you wanted her to pick you apart, bit by bit until she knew you inside and out.

“you can love people without being reliant on them,” she says, but you can’t help but shake your head in disagreement.

“i don’t know,” you whisper, “i think loving is reliant.”

abby smiles bittersweetly, watching as a gentle breeze travels through your hair.

“maybe,” she shrugs. “but it’s worth it.”

you shrug in return, looking up at her.

“maybe..” you repeat back as she takes several steps away from you.

the grass is dewy below your feet, brushing against the too-long cargos that cuffed your shoes. you shuffle backwards as well, looking around at the outdoors surrounding you.

you were still in the base, on one of the few outdoor patches that was left open for training. to your left were dogs, and horses, and ducks shut in stables. and on your right there were yards of garden boxes.

“don’t get distracted,” abby teases gently, watching as your eyes gloss over and take in the scenery.

“sorry,” you smile, looking up at the sky. “i haven’t been out here in ages.”

abby frowns to herself, that familiar feeling of regret settling in her stomach. it wasn’t often she second guessed her decisions, but when it came to you, things were different.

in her attempt to protect you, she somehow missed how unhappy you had been. she was harming you more than saving you. but she was determined to change that.

“okay..” she finally sighs out, going into training mode. “i’m not just gonna- come at you again i swear. i just want to show you some self defense.”

you roll your eyes ever so slightly, finding the whole situation silly.

“you know i’m not completely inexperienced in combat, right?”

abby shakes her head, her demeanor still playful, but also genuine.

“scars fight different than what you were used to. guns won’t be enough. once they get their hands on you…”

“okay okay..” you say with a small groan. “i get it. axes, and torches. show me what to do.”

abby smiles, straightening her back.

“alright,” she nods. “turn around.”

you furrow your brows slightly, but do as your told, turning your back to her.

“i’m gonna… im gonna grab your waist okay?” she whispers, quickly coming up behind you and snaking her fingers just below your ribs.

you shut your eyes, trying to breath steadily as she wraps her strong forearms tightly at your belly button.

“the worst position you can be in is getting attacked from behind,” she says quietly into your ear, causing an eruption of goosebumps to run up your spine.

she was thankful you couldn’t see her face, her red cheeks and forehead glistening with an anxious sweat. the wind whipped your hair slightly against her skin, and she nearly lets out a sigh.

“okay… now if they lift you.. you need to crunch your abdomen and kick your legs,” she instructs. “try it.”

“o-okay…” you stammer, holding your breath as she lifts you like it’s nothing.

“now..” she laughs weakly, her nose against your neck. “pretend i’ve got a dick, kick me there.”

“kick you?” you gasp out, eyes widening at her instruction.

“just- do it gently,” she chuckles. “i’ll be fine, just kick me.”

you bring your ankles up, and slowly bring one foot back down, kicking gently on her right thigh, just beside her crotch.

“good.. good,” she praises, smiling to herself. “you just gotta do that but harder.”

she reluctantly lets you down, her hands sliding away from your waist a little too invasively to be considered platonic. you turn back around to face her, your mouth pulling into a grin.

“and if my opponent isn’t a guy?” i ask.

abby’s expression falls slightly, her lips tightening into a thin line. she knew you were only messing around, but she didn’t like to imagine the idea. to imagine a situation where you wouldn’t be able to fight back.. a situation you couldn’t escape from..

she narrows her eyes, crossing her tensed arms over her chest.

“kick harder,” she says firmly, and looks away.

. . .

the two of you continue your training session for nearly two hours, and abby shows you just about every defense mechanism in the book. how to block, how to kick where it hurts, how to punch without shattering your knuckles.

while she was admittedly pleased at how quickly you caught onto things, the entire situation as a whole was getting her riled up.

she knew that ending this training meant sending you out. something that, while she knew was going to happen eventually, she wasn’t prepared for.

it wasn’t often she allowed herself to truly care for anyone beside her close circle of friends she had grown up with.

she was living in a war, and while she had many great relationships in the wlf, she also had a lot of loss. death was an every day occurrence, and losing a peer, whether that be a familiar grunt, medic, cook, or even comrade, was something abby often experienced.

she had grown used to detaching from the people around her. she was someone everyone could rely on, yet it was rare a loss fazed her.

but you were different.

she liked you, she cared about you. you didn’t fall into the large sum of people she could tolerate to see die, you never had.

you were one of her own now. like nora, manny, owen, and mel. maybe something even more important.

you were hers.

and she wasn’t going to let you go.

“now duck!” she yells, throwing an only half charged punch your way and grinning as you successfully dodge.

“block, now throw!” she had shouted over a dozen times, the two of you maneuvering around each other as abby commands. “good, good girl now back up- back.”

you shuffle your feet backwards, this time not waiting for abby’s cues to start your movements.

duck, block, throw, back.

duck, block, throw, back.

“you’ve got it,” she smiles, her entire body now shining with a thin layer of sweat, the strands of her braid clinging to her neck and forehead.

“cmon now, i’m done telling you what to do,” she finally urges, panting as she raises her fists.

“show me you can do this.” is all she says before you march forward, successfully dodging her soft hits, dancing around her stance as you push her chest back.

the two of you go silent, the only sounds filling the outdoors being the grass crunching below you and your short bursts of breath. you circle around each other, touching, and pulling, and grazing your dampened skin as you train.

abby’s eyes narrowed, her irises fiery as she leans in. she grabs your belt loop, tugging you a little more aggressively towards her chest.

you’re surprised for a moment, whimpering as she goes to bring a gentle but firm hand to your throat, when you roll away from her grip, using your newly trained skills.

abby smiles at your maneuver, going once again to tackle you, but you’re already prepared.

this was it.

it was time you prove to her that you can do this, that you can be out there.

you weren’t a defenseless medic waiting to be killed off in the field. you weren’t unprepared, or stupid, or reckless.

you were reliable, and strong, and caring, and capable.

and in this moment, you were a girl, now straddling the hips of abby anderson, pressing her face into the dirt with a hand pinning her left arm to the ground, and your booted foot pinning the other, breathing heavily as you feel her racing pulse.

you clench your teeth together, tensing as you notice the buckle of her belt rub enticingly between your thighs. you feel her hips buck, and watch as she groans into the grass.

abby goes quiet, her chest heaving and her face flushed as you finally let go of her cheek, pulling your hands up but remaining on her lap.

she turns her head, looking up at you with a now toothy yet sly grin. she sits up with a grunt, looping her arms around your waist and holding you steadily against her.

and she leans in, her nose brushing against yours teasingly, her pupils focused on your parted lips.

“you’re ready,” she sighs out.

and she kisses you.

. . .

an: only took six chapters 🤷‍♀️

#abby anderson x you #abby anderson #obstinate #abby tlou #abby anderson fic

[samkerrworshipper]

Would you please be able to write something about you getting the call up for the WC and calling Sam afterwards crying. Just lots of fluff xx

Thank you

the phone call | sam kerr x lionesses reader

sorry my lovelies… i’m still yet to leave bed because of this pain flare up

sorry if i’m not interacting with your messages and kind words.. trying to limit my screen time but i promise im seeing them all and it means the world to me

for now you all get some little drabbles that are sitting in my drafts xo

It’s 6pm.

The calls were supposed to start going out at 4 and it’s 6.

You’re paralysed, stuck to your spot on the couch, your feet anxiously tied up in the blanket draped over you as you stare down at your phone, patiently awaiting a call.

It hasn’t been an easy ride to get to this point, almost a year ago you were lying in a hospital bed, unmoving and unsure whether you’d ever walk again, let alone be in contention to play football for your country.

You’ve worked your ass off, tens of hundreds of hours in the gym, rehabbing, working on your strength, all for this call.

You know realistically that the longer you’re left waiting, the longer that your chances are depleting.

Coaches make the easiest calls first, the starting eleven, then their moving bench, players who will still get plenty of time on the pitch, then they move onto the maybe players, players whose skill sets might be needed depending on the team, then it’s onto the emergency players, then it’s the fillers, players that are just kind of on the squad because of courtesy, even though the chances that they will play is next to nothing.

In your mind, you fall into some place between the last two, Sarina doesn’t owe you anything though, the last time you played for her was the Euro’s semi final, when everything went to shit for you and sure, you’ve worked hard since then, but sometimes hard work isn’t always enough, especially in the world of soccer politics.

You sent Sam out of the house to run some errands half an hour ago, insisting you would be fine, but right now you wished you hadn’t, because there is nothing you need more than to be cuddled up in your fiancé’s arms.

She’s been there for you every single step of the way, quite literally being the person who helped you walk your first steps after surgery.

The road has been tough for the both of you, and you know there is nothing Sam wants more than for you to be with her in Australia over the Summer.

If it isn’t meant to be, then it isn’t, you’ll be there anyways on the sidelines supporting her but there is something so much more satisfying about knowing that you might get to be on the pitch beside her.

You don’t know what you’ll do if you are back in the squad, sure you’ve been to the last two camps, but being named in the actual squad is something else, especially for the world cup, it would mean the whole world to you.

Your thoughts are enough to drain out the ping from messages, but the desperate vibration in your hands isn’t.

Your eyes dart down to the screen, bursting open like you’d just consumed a energy drink when Sarina’s name pops up on your screen.

‘If you have a spare minute would love to chat whenever your free.’

You’ve been free since 12pm last night, sleep didn’t come for you, instead you’d sat by the phone, waiting for any kind of notification.

Sam had tried her hardest to pry you away, forcing you to come on a morning run with her, which was extremely abnormal, neither you or Sam where runners, but you assumed it was just your girlfriend trying to make you feel a little bit better.

You typed at your phone like a mad man, unwilling to miss this precious window that seemed to have opened for you, you didn’t even had the chance to actually think about Sarina actually calling you, too busy furiously tapping at the keyboard on your phone.

‘Free to chat whenever suits you’

You didn’t have much time to look at your text, mere seconds after the bubble went blue Sarina’s contact was popping up on your screen.

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do much more than aggressively tap the green button and watch as the call connected and Sarina’s face popped up on your screen.

“Y/n, good to see you, how’s your day been? I’ve been told there is quite a storm in London today?”

You don’t want to talk about weather, or this as trivial as how your day is going, but you put a smile on for Sarina anyways, a cute little smile that you normally save for press conferences after a particularly bad match or rough game.

“Sarina, it’s an honour as always, I’m doing well thanks, the weather is definitely shocking but we’re used to it, how’s it doing in the Netherlands?”

Sarina smiles at you, and it makes you feel a little bit uneasy, why can’t she just rip the bandaid off.

“It’s nice today, blue skies. How’s Sam? I don’t know if I had the chance to congratulate you on your engagement yet.”

You put on another little smile, trying to act like the nerves growing in your stomach aren’t bubbling up so badly that you feel as if you’re about to vomit.

“Sam’s good, we’re very happy, I’ve sent her out to get groceries which I’m regretting because she hasn’t got a clue what we need.”

Sarina laughs heartily, and it’s almost enough to make you feel a little bit better about the whole situation.

“Well I hope she’ll be happy to know that you’ll be in Australia over the Summer playing for England, if you’d like?”

All thoughts in your brain are cut off when you catch onto what Sarina is saying and then all of a sudden you can feel the tears building up in the back of your eyes.

“You’re serious? You want me in Australia?”

Sarina just laughs once again.

“You were part of our winning Euro’s team y/n, there is nothing I would love more than to welcome you back. You are a crucial part of our defence, especially with Leah missing and there is nothing we need more than your leadership. You’ve been fantastic on the pitch recently, both club and at camp, if you keep performing as you are, I think you’ll be very deserving of taking your place back in the starting eleven, how does that sound?”

You have to put your hand over your mouth to stop yourself from sobbing.

“Thank you so much Sarina, you genuinely don’t know how much this means to me, I’ll prove to you everyday that I deserve to be there and I’ll do whatever I can on and off the pitch to help the team.”

Sarina just smiles to herself.

“I don’t doubt that at all, all I ask is that you try your hardest, I’ll let you go now y/n, have a good couple of weeks, I’ll see you at the airport.”

Before you can embarrass yourself any further, you're wishing Sarina farewell and pressing the red button at the bottom of your screen.

It takes a few seconds for it all to set in for you, the happenings of your phone call slowly sinming into your brain.

It’s when it all sinks in that you realise tears are still dripping down your face, and before you can think about it too hard your searching for Sam’s contact and clicking the call button.

To Sam’s credit, it takes about three seconds before your girlfriends face pops up on your screen.

“I think I might need a shopping list- baby why are you crying?”

Just looking at Sam makes you perk up a little bit, she’s all flustered which you don’t see very often.

“Sarina called, I’m in the squad, she wants me in the squad.”

Just saying it creates a whole other wave of emotions of flowing, and this time you don’t even try to stop the sobs leaving your mouth.

Sam lights up immediately.

“Baby, that is awesome, I’m not surprised at all, I’m leaving the shops now, I’ll be home in five minutes we can talk about it then, hmm?”

You nod eagerly, a big smile breaking out across its face.

“I’m so proud of you babe, you’ve worked so hard for this, I’ll be home in a couple of minutes, okay?”

You just nod at Sam, far to giddy to do much besides jerk your head up and down like a energised puppy.

You weren’t quite sure what the future held for your Summer in Australia, but you that no matter what, no matter the injuries, setbacks, bad games, Sam would be there for you through it all, she’d be there for you, no matter what side of the dug out you were sitting on.

#woso #woso community #lionesses #sam kerr imagine #on my knees for sammy k #i love sam kerr #samantha may #sam kerr x reader #sam kerr #sam kerr is daddy #sweet sam #woso imagines #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #woso soccer #woso couples

[dxckgrxsonx]

The dick pic storyline is driving me absolutely feral, I need more, my love. Please, I am on my knees begging you 🙇‍♀️ 🙏

im chewing my laptop and maybe committing a few crimes because of the feelings. they're going to fuck eventually i swear!!

**

Sunlight yawns bright and weightless over the horizon, dawn dappled in lazy diluted watercolour brushstrokes.

Bronze scatters across the sky, endless wavelengths of vibrant colour sliding seamlessly into the other; gold hooks into blue and smudges talented fingers into the soft line of pink.

It’s been a long time since you’ve seen the blinding curve of the sun in the morning. You’ve missed the quiet plethora of colour. The silence. The absence of responsibility.

Watching the dawn break over the horizon is easy, it’s beautiful; makes you want to swallow the world whole.

You think of Jason and how sometimes, when you really make him smile, you get the same endless feeling in your chest.

“I don’t remember you being here when I went to bed.” Jason rumbles as soon as he spots you standing by the window, voice thick and lazy with sleep. He rubs a hand through his hair, confusion thumbing gently against the tired lines of his face. “More importantly, I can’t remember the last time you were up this early. Everything okay? Do you need me to beat someone up for you?”

Your smile is automatic, reflective.

“I don’t need you to beat anyone up for me. I can do it myself.” Jason wanders forwards, steps eerily silent, and grabs you from behind, tucks you soft and warm against his chest. His fingers interlock against your stomach, trapping you in place, and you tip your head back to look at him.

Jason meets your gaze and doesn’t let go. It’s almost unnerving having his undivided attention. You find that you’re suddenly unsure.

It feels like the ground is shifting under your feet, feels like a fracture, a planetary faultline; like if you take one wrong step the floor will simply open right up, leave you falling into a hole with no bottom.

The look on his face is sleepy and thoughtful, you see him swallow.

“Just because you can, doesn’t mean you have to.” Jason says after a careful silence. Pressing his mouth to the crown of your head he mumbles into your hair, “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to keep you safe.”

Your heart swells in your chest and you think of how goddamn lucky you are to have him as your best friend.

“Oh good.” You sigh, relieved. “Because the real reason I’m here is because there’s this spider in my apartment and I think it wants to kill me.”

Jason laughs softly against the top of your head and then ducks down to tuck his face into the crook of your neck, “I’ll get my gun.”

“Breakfast first?” You choke, shivering at the feel of his lips so close to your pulse point.

“You just want free food from me don’t you?” Jason grins, teeth scraping the thin, sensitive skin under your ear. Your stomach flips, excitement snaking thick down your spine. Part of you thinks he knows exactly what he’s doing, and thinks he’s doing it on purpose.

“Well,” You admit, “I do love your cooking.”

Shuffling out of his hold when the sensation of his mouth against your neck becomes unbearable, you turn and finally settle your attention firmly on the chaotic mess of Jason’s hair. Strands stick up at odd angles from where he’s slept, soft curls knotted together on the side of his head above his ear. He looks dishevelled.

He looks unbearably domestic.

You feel suddenly fond, maybe even warm. But not in the same way you get when he sends you a video, or a photo. It’s different. It’s softer. Almost like stumbling into a patch of warm sun when you’re just starting to feel cold.

Unexpected. Comforting.

Jason yawns and stretches his arms above his head. The thick curve of his biceps catch your eye and you’re reminded of his strength, of how utterly big he is.

The sleeves of his t-shirt pull tight over the muscle and there’s something almost unhinged tugging at your ribs, wanting you desperately to sink your teeth into him.

A relieved little groan slips out of his pretty mouth when his shoulder cracks and you respond with an almost silent whine.

Glancing down you watch as his shirt starts to ride up, exposing a thin strip of warm skin. The sight of his tummy makes you lightheaded, makes you press your tongue to the backs of your teeth.

Dragging the tips of your fingers over his exposed stomach Jason sucks in a sharp breath. It’s almost like a flinch with the way his entire abdomen tightens up, muscles preparing for a hit you would never land.

It reminds you that not everyone touches him with the intent of gentle, almost innocent exploration. Even worse: it reminds you that the action is so well ingrained in his head that he’s been hit there more than once; that he’s been hit enough that every touch there is expected to bring pain.

It fills you with a quiet sort of hurt.

It’s the same hurt you get when you catch sight of bruises scattering dark and heavy over his skin. When you see his knuckles swollen and discoloured. When you watch him move out of the corner of your eye and see him wince because he’s pulled at a still healing wound.

Endless. Agonising.

The pads of your fingers sweep slowly against his skin, tracing the dips and grooves of his navel. You brush lightly over multiple thick, angry lines of raised scar tissue and Jason makes a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat—the healed skin horribly sensitive—and you can’t ignore the way you ache between your legs.

There’s the slightest brush of his happy trail against the pad of your pointer finger and you follow it down until you meet the elastic of his sweatpants. Tucking your finger just underneath the waistband Jason’s abdomen flexes and he quickly clears his throat, making you look up.

His cheeks are flushed.

You realise a little too late that he’s not wearing anything underneath his sweats.

“Can I put my arms down now?”

“Only if you make me waffles.” You reply, removing your palm from his tummy. “And let me use your shower. And also maybe take a little nap with me.”

Jason sniggers, amused. “Anything else?”

Your eyes slant to his mouth.

You think of the nights spent having his head in your lap. Fighting over who gets the last bite of food. Playing hide and seek in the middle of the supermarket because it makes him laugh. You think of the silly way you send each other stupid selfies. The way he plays pranks on you when he’s bored.

You think of how when he’s hurt and bleeding out somewhere in Gotham he calls you, says your name in that quiet, revenant way he does when he’s scared; almost like calling your name will save him.

It would be so easy.

“Uhh–no, that’s it.” You manage to get out, voice thick, distracted. “But I'll let you know if I think of anything else.”

**

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd fanfic #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x reader #red hood x you #ella writes #asks #answered #croimilis #💕💕 #I’ve got one more slightly smutty part planned #then there’s going to angst and feelings and action and aaaaaa

[in-jail-out-soon7]

Merry Christmas!

In which you celebrate Christmas morning with the Sano household.

Manjiro Sano x GN!Reader

Warnings: Cursing & tooth rotting fluff

Being shaken awake, violently- Wasn't really what you had in mind for Christmas morning. Hissing as your blanket was ripped off of you and the cold air of Mikey's room attacked your bare legs.

The worse part about your boyfriend's room being in a literal garage/shed is that whatever temperature it was outside it was the exact same temperature inside.

Finally gaining some consciousness, you stared up at Mikey who was kneeling on the mattress over you. "Wake up, (Y/N)," He groaned, discarding the blanket he had just stripped from you to the floor.

"Mikey." Stretching your limbs and popping your joints, you stared annoyingly up at Mikey. "What time is it?"

"Why does it matter?"

You groaned and turned over on your other side to face the wall. The mattress raised and the old bed frame squeaked as Mikey jumped out of bed.

Mikey had spent nearly the entirety of Christmas Eve trying to convince your family to let you stay the night and spend Christmas morning with Him, Emma and his grandpa. A box of your mother's favorite perfume set, that he definitely made either Draken or Emma buy- not that he'd admit it- was what made her cave.

However if you knew it would be like this you would've chucked the gift right out the damn window.

You were definitely feeling the effects of staying out until two in the morning riding on the back of Mikey's bike through the city. He had also dragged along Draken and Mitsuya, their's and your complaints about the cold fell on deaf ears. You all knew of the tradition Mikey had formed with his older brother, Shinichiro, and Baji of riding through the winter snow on Christmas Eve.

So despite all the complaints, nobody had left his side until he was ready to return home with you.

A yelp left your lips when ice cold hands gripped the back of your thighs, yanking you to the edge of the bed. Mikey flipped you onto your back, your legs falling over the edge of the bed and your feet landed on the hard floor with a thump.

Left in a weird position with your upper body on the bed and the lower hanging off, your hips tensed then popped. You swung at him with an open hand. "Fuck, Mikey, go back to sleep!"

Mikey slapped your hand away easily and pouted. Without a word he placed a leg on either side of yours and flopped down on top of you, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

"You're The Grinch," he whispered playfully.

"Whatever."

Mikey kissed your collarbone and giggled, vibrating the skin. He stood, but before he could pester you more a voice called from outside the shed.

"Manjiro! Emma wants you and (Y/N) inside for breakfast!" The voice was low and scratchy. Mikey's grandpa.

Mikey called back, practically bouncing on the balls of his feet. "Okay, Grandpa!" Now you had to go with him.

You and Mikey slipped on shoes and jackets over your pjs for the two second walk to the house. The snow crunched under your feet as you made you way to the front door. Mikey opened it, after being out all night and sleeping with no heater both of you sighed contently at the warmth before removing your shoes and jackets.

Following the scent of breakfast through the living room to the kitchen, having to grip Mikey's sleeve so he didn't run head first into the pile of presents under the tree.

As you both took seats around the table the clock on the wall caught your eye.

6:34 A.M.

You don't think you've ever seen Mikey up this early before, and if you have he never went to sleep to fucking begin with. You silently glared at Mikey who was too distracted with the food Emma was currently stacking onto plates.

"Merry Christmas, you two," She said happily turning to face the table. Over a white sweater and black leggings she had on a red apron with a small christmas tree printed in the upper middle. She placed plates of waffles and eggs in front of everyone.

Mikey immediately reached across the table for the can of whipped cream, you pulled your own plate towards you. "Thanks for cooking Emma." You smiled at her as she took her own seat. Their grandfather, Mr. Sano, nodded in agreement, sipping on a cup of coffee.

Scooping some egg into your mouth, Mikey picked at the edges of his waffles. A mess of whipped cream on his plate. "Emma," he whined. "You made the edges of my waffles too crispy."

Emma huffed, pouring juice into her glass. "Than make it yourself next time, and where's that old towel? Not that I'm complaining, you really need to throw that garbage away." She drizzled syrup on her waffles. Mr. Sano chuckled from down the table.

"(Y/N) threw it on the floor."

"I did not!"

Mikey shrugged and stuffed more waffle into his mouth, he ignored the eggs.

Emma turned to you and poured juice into your own glass. You thanked her, took a sip and sighed. "Next time you see it throw it out for me, (Y/N)."

"I will."

Mikey gasped dramatically through a mouthful of food. "No you won't!"

Everyone laughed at Mikey's pout. The four of you continued to chat idly throughout breakfast.

When everyone finished Emma cleared away the dishes, dismissing any help you offered with clean up. Mikey dragged you into the living room, Mr. Sano following close behind after refilling his cup of coffee.

Mr. Sano turned on some random reality TV show and sat in his recliner while Mikey pulled you onto the floor next to him in front of the christmas tree.

"Now, hold on," Mr. Sano said stopping Mikey from ripping open the first present he found with his name on it. "Wait for Emma, Boy."

Mikey sat the present in is lap and groaned. "Emma hurry up!" The sound of Emma rinsing the dishes was the only response he got. Mr. Sano chuckled.

Mikey hung his head, his messy hair covering his eyes. You laughed softly and tucked a strand of hair behind his ear.

Looking down at the gift in his lap, you pointed at the tag. "I got this one for you." Your finger traced over your name written in fancy cursive- that Emma had insisted on writing for you so all the gifts matched.

Mikey tapped on the middle joint of your finger that traced the letters. He reached under the tree, knocking some presents aside until found what he was looking for.

He hands you a small gift with a poor wrapping job. "And I got this for you." You smiled and squeezed the gift softly trying to figure out at least the shape underneath the wrinkled paper.

"Emma didn't get onto you for this?" You giggle.

He shrugged. "I think I did great." You shook your head and sighed. Mikey poked at the present in your hand. "She said if I got to wrap it she got to hide it behind everything."

You laughed at that.

Emma walked into the living room holding a tray of three hot mugs of hot chocolate. "'Kay, I'm here!" Mikey exclaimed a 'finally!' then reached for the mug with the most whipped cream. You took one as well and thanked Emma.

When everyone had their first gift in hand, including Mr. Sano, Mikey was the first to rip the wrapping paper off his. You followed alongside him while Emma and Mr. Sano chatted behind you two on tne couch, opening their own gifts.

"Oh," Mikey said quietly. You looked at him. He gazed down at the now unwrapped gift in his hand: A toy airplane still in it's box.

Your heart dropped at his reaction. "You use to have one right? You told me it broke." Mikey nodded. "Shinichiro gave it to you." He nodded again.

"Yeah."

"Yeah." You repeated. "Sorry."

Mikey shook his head and sighed. Before you could respond about the change of mood an icy hand found it's place on the back of your neck, and warm lips on your own. It only lasted a few seconds, but it felt like forever before he pulled away. His lips were still sticky from breakfast earlier.

"It's the best." He said finally.

"What?"

"The gift. It's the best."

"Oh, good!" You sighed in relief. Turning back to your own gift, you discarded of the last few pieces of paper. You were finally left with a small box. You opened it to find a purple charm. Identical to the one Mikey has been carrying around since Baji's death.

"Open it," Mikey says softly from besides you.

Turning the charm over in your hand, you pull open the slit at the top and pull out a folded piece a paper. You began unfolding it.

It was a picture of twelve year old Mikey and you riding the old moped he use to have before he got a real motorcycle. The photo must've been taken by either Baji or Kazutora because they were the only two not in the background, but you chose not the voice the observation. Draken, Mitsuya, and Pah were blurry figures in the back, but you could still recognize who was who.

You traced over the faces of yourselves, clearly enjoying the experience despite both of you struggling to both fit on the moped. A smile stretched across your face. It had been the day you had tagged along with them to the beach. When Toman was only six members big.

"I didn't even know this photo was taken," you laugh.

Mikey reached into his shirt and pulled out his own charm that contained a photo of all the founding members or Toman. The same charm Baji carried around before his death two months ago. "I found it in here."

Taking a deep breath you refolded the picture and slipped it back into the charm. You turned to you boyfriend.

"Thanks, Mikey."

Before he could respond a flash caught you guy's attention. You both turned around to Emma giggling and Mr. Sano holding a camera.

"Grandpa- stop-" Mikey's exclaim was cut off by the doorbell.

Confused, Emma stood and disappeared into the foyer for a few moments while Mikey continued to pout at his grandpa.

"Throw it away, Grandpa."

"Nah," Mr. Sano said waving around the photo that had just finished processing.

Emma returned a smile reaching up to her eyes. A voice boomed behind her.

"Are we late!?" Draken, Mitsuya, Chifuyu and Takemitchy walked into the living room. All of them holding gifts.

Brushing his messy hair aside Mikey jumped onto his feet and made his way over to the group to greet them.

While everyone else was distracted in conversation you approached Mr. Sano.

"Came to try and throw it away too?" He asks holding the photo teasingly.

You shook you head and laughed. "No." You held up your charm.

"There's somewhere I want to put it."

#tokyo revengers #tokyo revengers mikey #manjiro sano #sano mikey manjiro #mikey sano #sano manjiro x reader #tokrev manjiro #tokyo revengers sano manjiro #mikey x reader #tr mikey #manjiro sano x reader #fanfic #tr fluff #mikey x reader fluff #christmas #emma sano #gender nuetral reader #ken ryuguji #takemitchy #chifuyu matsuno #mitsuya takashi

[overnowsfcb]

worth it for once; pedri

summary: sometimes the show must not go on. what happens when the curtains fall?

warnings: angst, smut (dom!pedri, pool sex, hickey, blow job (v), masturbation and self-masturbation (p), pet names) mature language, abuse of alcohol, toxic relationship dynamics, emotional distress. if any of these topics makes you uncomfortable, i advise against reading this story.

word count: 5.9k

note: hi! first of all i wanted to thank everyone who interacted with 'halfway out the door', you don't even know how much it means to me that people can read my stories. i knew i said i would do some fluff, but i feel like im not good at it. i cant seem to let the reader be happy can i? (this fic is so long i feel like i got a bit carried away)

p.s.: this is my first time ever writing smut, im sorry if its too bad. also! 'halfway out the door' has ninety percent of possibility to have a second part.

p.s. 2: the party ended an hour ago and he still there. another thing that i wanted to say is that FOR ME 'slut!' is not a love song so that is my reason for this, i take my interpretation of the song and write it down — venus 🫂💐🫧

The sun's rays slipped through the white curtain covering the partially open window, letting in the morning breeze. You nestled in the sheets, still drowsy, but as you did, you snapped wide awake, realizing once again that Pedri wasn't by your side.

You turned over, hoping it was a dream, but the only remnants of him in the room were his lingering scent and memories of the night before, replaying in your mind.

The way he touched you, tracing each of the invisible scars left by your previous lovers who sought only their own pleasure, using you to their liking without paying attention to your desires.

He was different. His kisses felt like a religious experience, filling you with an ever-growing sense of fulfillment. Nothing wrapped around you more securely than the feeling of having him inside of you, merging under the lustful gaze of the moon that welcomed you on a tailor-made altar, adorned with soft sheets and sensations that turned into a celestial orchestra.

And although the next day, perhaps his flaws became evident, your infatuation took you beyond, closing the curtain of the stage within your mind; you didn't have to be displeased or critical when admiring a work of art, right?

When the strength left from the previous night was regained under pressure, and your mind returned to the frosty present, you sat up in bed, feeling your head heavy, needing to blink several times to clear the blurriness that clouded your eyes due to sleep.

Your feet rested on the wooden floor. You didn’t want to face another day with the pain of the mandatory conviction your heart held towards your mind, aiming it with a gun if it tried to move from there.

You sighed with closed eyes and gathered your clothes scattered around the room. When you finished dressing, you approached the window and inhaled a breath of air to refresh your thoughts.

You left your room; the squeak of the door echoed through the house, signaling to Elena that you had already woken up. You couldn't lie; you were afraid to face her.

She, your best friend since you desperately looked for someone to share an apartment with after the owners of your previous apartment unjustly left you out in the cold.

She, who warmly welcomed you full of empathy and commiseration, helped you deal with the storm by receiving you in a studio apartment with an air mattress. She became the person you adored most in the whole world and never lacked frankness in her words.

Both of you moved forward together; now, you succeeded in modeling, and you could search for something much more comfortable living now in a pent-house, but always side by side.

You arrived at the spacious kitchen connected to the dining room and were met with an exquisite aroma, akin to the dishes she professionally prepared. You tied your hair in a ponytail and moved the chair to sit facing the counter.

Crossed fingers and your chin resting on your hands, you noticed she expected your presence when she twisted her torso, leaving a plate with toast and homemade raspberry jam on the marble counter in front of you.

You waited a moment to grab one of the perfectly made toasts and spread the jam in the toast; you felt the tension in the air. You knew of her disapproving stance regarding your situation with Pedri, and you knew she was preparing the usual sermon.

"Want to say something about it?" It was as if she had read your mind; turning her back, you sat up straighter on the stool, your distressed chest making your heart pump more blood than usual.

"No," you replied dryly, as you took a bite of toast.

"Alright, then it'll be up to me." You felt fear travel up your spine to the buzzing in your head and a high-pitched tone ringing in your ears.

You tried to breathe normally, but it was impossible. Her actions guided your eyes; she put the angel food cake in the oven and turned around, sitting on the stool in front of you, looking at you incredulously.

"He left at seven in the morning. When was the last time he stayed the following morning with you? I know you don't want to hear this, and I understand that you're into him. But don't let that blind you from what's really happening here. You're too intelligent for this, too good for someone who treats you like an option." Her words were always harsh, and she never hesitated to tell you the bleak truth without flinching. But it wasn't what you needed now, and her words were insignificant in front of the formidable figure that Pedri occupied in your mind.

There were very few people who dared to challenge your perspective, and Elena was brave enough to do it, even though her attempts always ended in defeats.

And defeats consisted in your denial, where you decided to take off your glasses after seeing what was there. You knew it existed and acknowledged it deep down, but hearing someone throw out statements so lightly without knowing him in the homely intimacy where he could unfold without prejudices, was something only you could discover.

The 'Open Sesame' didn't work with all tones, and not everyone acquired the privilege of opening such a treasure. So, you assumed it was envy.

"Maybe it’s a mess, maybe it’s complicated, but that doesn’t mean it’s not worth a damn!" Your voice began to rise in volume the more anger you vented at her, who was innocent of it all. You noticed her furrowed brow, her attempts to help, every time she threw you a lifeline, you chose to ignore it, believing you could swim the remaining yards to shore alone.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to find a balance, but your aggressiveness seemed to have reached its peak.

"I’ll sort it out myself, alright?" You exhaled, continuing your defense. "So just back off, Ele. I’m sick of needing your approval for everything. I’ll make my choices, even if they’re not in your rulebook." You spoke with a passive-aggressive tone. "You think you know him? You have no clue, none whatsoever." You got up from your seat, giving the countertop a light tap, and shook your head indignantly.

"I just want what's best for you, y/n," She whispered, looking you in the eyes with honesty. You headed towards the door disappearing from her sight.

You knew that she wanted to protect you like she did from the very first moment.

Despite being your age, she showed herself to be more mature than you. You were like her baby chick, and she had the instinct to keep you under her wings, but she had to admit that you had to learn defense by yourself.

And sometimes you need to fail to build your path.

There was no better remedy in your routine than drowning yourself in work to stop thinking about all the dilemmas surrounding your life. At least for a few hours.

Growing within the fashion industry was difficult without contacts; if you wanted to achieve something, you had to consider the hurdles you might carry in your backpack. But your resilience and pride prevented anyone else, terrified of having a future of subordination, from winning.

Today's meetings were about agreements for your brand, a dream that grew with you from your mom reading you bedtime stories to the present day.

You had put so much effort and creativity into your project that, regardless of what happened externally, your priority would always be there. No affair or argument could steer you away from that.

All your distractions due to logical thoughts vanished upon arriving at your apartment. You turned on the lights; Elena had left you a message informing you that she would stay at her boyfriend's house for the night.

Your home felt empty without her blasting music through the speakers and constant movements around the house. You cracked your neck, leaving your faux leather coat on the entryway rack. You lazily tossed your bag onto the couch, sitting beside it. You unbuckled your heels, freeing your feet.

A contained sigh escaped your nostrils, easing your chest a bit. You heard thousands of notifications coming from your bag. Worried, you unzipped it and searched for the phone, unsure of what was happening.

You glanced at the news headlines and the numerous social media posts where you were being tagged. You thought you had successfully escaped last time. The carefully revised alibi by both managers to divert media attention from your relationship had been futile.

But it seemed not entirely effective; without any evidence or concrete proof, just a blurry and deficient photo was enough for them to create a compelling scene for the public.

You clicked on a specific article; its name caught your attention, "The New Target of Love: The Boy in Her Chaos - Will He Survive?" You knew it wasn't the smartest decision you could make; the echoes of the voices of the people closest to you resonated in your ears. But you were alone and had nothing better to do at that moment.

The devil on your right shoulder encouraged and forced you to keep reading; with each sentence and word, your tear ducts were ready to expel the salty drops from your eyes.

You couldn't understand why journalists consistently targeted your romantic relationships instead of focusing on your professional endeavors, where you worked, and strived every day to show the world that you were more than just a pretty face. But in a sexist world, you had to accept without a murmur the things they wrote without any pity, driven by money and interactions.

Had you signed up for this life, or was it something gradually inserted into your brain about what it had to be?

You found yourself seated at your computer with a bottle of wine by your side, seemingly engrossed in reading each of the articles criticizing you and perpetuating a negative reputation of yourself.

You had poured a small amount of the burgundy liquid into your glass. Some sort of masochism consumed you, and without noticing, you began to pour more and more wine into the glass, your heart filling with misery, pausing at every clever word that defined your identity on the internet. Because all of the words seemed monotone.

Until the glass was no longer enough to swallow the bitter pill, you stared at the bottle, contemplating your next move. You shrugged and reached for the bottle with difficulty, your vision truly distorted, no longer having a sense of space.

You leaned back in the couch and took a long swig that burned your throat, feeling your heart rate rise.

You decided you had gone too far, abruptly leaving the computer on the table in front of you. When you tried to get up, you fell backward by inertia, unbalanced. That's when you realized you weren't even paying attention to the news but mindlessly scrolling your mouse.

The tears you had been holding back for over an hour and a half streamed down your cheeks immediately. Now, you couldn't turn back and felt trapped within your own uncontrollable body.

Gut-wrenching sobs made your body tremble, and at that moment, all you could think of was his touch, how every time you cried, he carefully wiped your cheeks and assured you that this too shall pass.

With tears and alcohol blurring your vision, it wasn't hard to find his number as you had it pinned in your messaging app. You opened his chat and immediately tapped the call icon.

You placed your phone to your ear, hearing the beeps from the other end, while your body, consumed by sorrow, couldn't help but continue shedding tears.

You perceived a noticeable change from silence to a clear indication that the call had been answered. You tried to stifle your crying by biting your lip, but it seemed this battle wouldn't let you emerge victorious.

"Love, are you crying?" You wanted to respond, but his voice only intensified your desire to cry; you longed to feel his warmth. You still didn't understand why you decided to go this far. "y/n, I'm worried. Did something happen? Did someone hurt you?" You tried to take a deep breath to provide an answer.

You wiped your tears with the back of your hand and then placed it on your chest, trying to assist in the calming process. "It's so exhausting." These were the words that came out of your mouth as you exhaled.

He still didn't understand exactly what you were talking about, but you kept talking. "I think I can't be with you anymore." Your voice came out strained; you truly didn't want to say those words. You clung to the arm of the chair with one hand, squeezing it, waiting to hear the response on the other side.

"What?" He couldn't comprehend how he had woken up at two in the morning, and you were talking about cutting ties. "Love, listen to me. Why don't you go to sleep, and tomorrow, we spend the day at the country house?" On the other end of the line, he easily realized the moment he picked up that you were drunk.

"Okay." You affirmed with a nod, resting your head on the armrest, and lifting your feet to stretch out on the sofa. "I love you a lot." Your face contracted again, a sign that tears would return.

"You too." He replied, and you were the one who ended the call, slightly calmer about the reflections the articles had left and the incoherent thoughts that had arisen from them.

You left the phone by your side and curled up, hugging yourself, seeking warmth without the help of a blanket. You closed your eyes, praying that the world would change radically tomorrow, although you knew it was an unlikely hope. You never wished more than for whoever was in the sky to give you a new chance to love in the right way.

You needed to believe in someone; you needed assistance from the universe to not lose the hope that once brought you immense joy. But perhaps genuine love was like Santa Claus, and sooner or later, it would crumble like any other ingenious belief.

And like a shrewd child who receives his Christmas gifts with the same enthusiasm even after learning the hidden truth, you dipped your feet into the transparent chlorinated water.

He watched each of your movements attentively, leaning on one of the pool edges. You plunged, soaking your entire body, and swam towards his direction, resurfacing enveloped in laughter with him.

He embraced you, sharing some of his warmth to your cold body due to the sudden change in the water, and you placed your hands around his waist, looking up at him from his chest.

"I love you so much." You bit your lip, seeking an outlet for your love. He rested his hands on your cheeks and began planting short kisses that spread across your entire face.

"I love you more." He reciprocated, giving two gentle taps on your legs. You jumped, and he took you into his arms grabbing your ass.

Quickly, he changed his position, leaving your back resting on the cold pool wall. The chills went up through your spinal cord, fusing the temperature of the edge and its expression, which never went out of style to make you think that everything you needed was there, with him.

You ran his sculpted shoulders with your palms open, feeling his muscles and intertwined your fingers behind his neck, brushing his hair.

Your lips brushed, and you could feel the electricity that could arise from a simple and minimal contact.

He brought his face to you, holding you tight against the concrete.

It was undeniable the indissoluble bond tied by the threads that led you each time to the same situation, and the core of your life was nourished by its bond.

As your lips collided with fervor, eager to quell the fervent passion, you pulled him closer with your legs still entwined around his waist. Feeling his hardness against your core ignited arousal as he pressed himself firmly, and both of you gasped in the midst of the kiss at the electrifying contact.

Your lips didn't want to part, too hungry for each other's sweet taste. You caught his lower lip between your teeth, pulling it gently to invite your tongue into his mouth. It had become sloppy as you lightly tugged his hair, eliciting a groan.

His hand stealthily ascended, never parting from your lips, traveling from your ass to the back of your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

His tender lips traced a pattern from your cheeks to your neck. You tilted your head back, offering more of your skin for his exploration.

Expertly, his fingers unraveled the straps of your bikini with a single pull, still nestled in your neck. As the air grazed your tightened nipples, your breath hitched when he took one between his fingers, fidgeting and further intensifying the sensation.

Your sensitive boobs elicited desperate whimpers as he continued grinding against you, creating a symphony of pleasure. The air thickened, and your bodies radiated heat.

His lips passionately suctioned a spot, causing your eyes to roll. You were well aware that he would leave a hickey there.

Moving from your neck, his lips trailed down to your collarbone. Frustration built as he skillfully teased the sides of your breasts, deliberately avoiding the attention where you craved it most.

"Pedri, please..." You gently tugged his strands, prompting him to lift his head. Counterfeit innocence gleamed in his pupils.

"What do you need, amor? Tell me, is there something I can do for you?" His gentle caress graced your cheek, and you melted into his simmering touch.

"Please..." He ceased grinding, his hand swiftly traversing to your neck, as your hand descended, grazing his abs.

"If only you could see this beautiful hickey right now," He whispered, tracing the mark and toying with you, his actions inviting your response as he often did.

It was exasperating; no matter how frequently you found yourself in such moments with him, articulating your desires remained a challenge.

"Just do something," you uttered, a touch of despondency in your voice, pouting with pleading eyes. Yet, he remained resolute.

"I just don't know what you want." He shook his head, gently placing a strand of hair behind your ear, mimicking your pout with a teasing tone.

"Alright... just please, babe, suck my tits," you replied with a hint of frustration. His corners lifted, forming a smile, having successfully achieved his goal.

"There she is, that's my good girl, aren't you?" You couldn't help but nod several times steadfastily, just wanting him to stop playing.

His face vanished from your sight as he covered one of your breasts with his mouth. A loud moan escaped your throat, a sound of satisfaction for him as he moved his tongue, savoring your skin. "Was it that difficult?" He gazed at you once more, and you sighed in irritation, prompting him to raise his eyebrows, questioning your actions.

"No." Your fingers traced his chest as he continued sucking with determination.

Moving lower, you reached the edge of the swim trunks' fabric. However, as you did, he pulled away with a frown. "Who said you could touch?" You mirrored his expression confused.

"Last night, you scared me a lot. Do you think it was funny for me? No, so you can't decide who's having fun, okay?" Your chest felt heavy, yet you found a strange allure in his dominant low voice, even though you wanted to object.

"I thought..." He wrapped his hand around your neck, pulling you back and shutting your mouth with his thumb. He watched as you sucked it, humming and biting his plump lips.

"You didn't think shit. Now, jump." He firmly gripped your hips, lifting you effortlessly to the pool's edge. Seated, you patiently awaited his guidance, uncertainty accelerating your heartbeat.

Intense eye contact heightened the tension. His fingers delicately traced over your thighs, starting from the outer part, then gently grazing your clothed intimacy. He devoured you with his gaze.

"Lean back for me, baby." You did as he pleased leaning in your elbows.

He tapped on your thighs, a signal to lift your hips, and he removed the sole fabric covering your body and throwing it to your side. He took your legs and placing them over his shoulders. Spreading you open. A groan escaped him at the sight, reveling in your arousal.

"So wet, just for me," he murmured, running his fingers through your folds, collecting your juices and parting your lips to spread the liquids.

You pressed closer, yearning for more. "Just for you." Suddenly, a firm spank on your sensitive area made you shudder, and you gasped. "Behave," he commanded, throwing you a dominant look.

Circling your clit, he gradually increased the pace. Tilted back, moans escaped uncontrollably. Another spank followed, and you met his gaze. "Keep your eyes on me, princess. Watch as I pleasure you like no one else could."

His words wielded a powerful influence in every scenario. Returning to your pussy, he made his way to slip two fingers inside you easily as you were soaked by now. The reflex to close your eyes surfaced, but his commanding words echoed in your mind.

He initiated a rhythmic motion, penetrating and withdrawing, targeting your most sensitive depths, obscene wet sounds, thumb still teasing your bud. Overwhelmed by the intensity, you sought stability, bringing your index finger to your mouth, biting down to anchor yourself. "You can grab my hair, baby," he suggested, prompting a satisfying sigh as you obediently followed his directive.

As the synchronization of your movements intensified, he decided to elevate the pleasure further. His mouth joined the sensual dance, lasciviously spitting your core, eliciting a contented hum from you.

As his mouth drew near your clit, enveloping it ably, a scream escaped your lips, worthy of a scene of a pornographic film. His name slipped through your mouth, an inadvertent encouragement that fueled his tenacity to excel, delve deeper, move faster, and render you numb in ecstasy.

In the intimacy, he displayed a reflection of his approach on the field, always seeking ways to enhance and achieve peak performance, a relentless pursuit of reaching his full potential at what he knew he was one of the bests, even when he didn't want to admit it.

There was no sweeter melody than your filthy moans. His crotch throbbed aching, aware that just a few pumps would make him reach his climax. But he needed to focus on you first, even though he rolled his hips against the concrete, trying to calm down his needs.

He groaned, shutting his eyes and digging his tongue into your hole. Your legs entwined around his neck, the tight knot of pleasure building as you moved your hips in tandem with the rhythm of his tongue.

"Pedri, I'm..." You shouted, the words hanging in the air unfinished, as he entered both, fingers with tongue, increasing the pace with each successive motion.

He opened his eyes again, locking onto yours, brimming with passion beneath the sun. His nose brushing against your clit, combined with his bambi-like eyes in contrast to the authority he held over you, escalate the moment as you tightly grasped his hair, evoking the release of your juices.

He couldn't help but stop pressing against the wall and squeeze his shaft inescapably, captivated by the way you adhered to what he said, even if it meant he had to assert control with a firm hand, correcting your inclination to lean back a few times.

He loved how obedient you were and how your body reacted.

Your high-pitched sounds spurred him to slip his hand inside his swim trunks, almost moaning at the sensations created by his own touch and the enticing arch of your back. He found himself immersed in the sweet taste and intoxicating fragrance that surrounded him.

He went up and down with his hand on his dick fervently, trembling in sync with you. "Are you going to come, my love? Do it for me," his deep voice making you feel so close. You played with one of your hardened nipples between your fingers. You affirmed with the other hand on his hair, and he hummed against you in response. "Oh, my god." you mumbled.

His vibrations heightened your euphoria, and the combination of his tongue and fingers left you feeling overstimulated. As you screamed arching your back, you became undone, laying flat, straightening your arms at your side and shuddering as you felt him persisting in his ministrations.

Too blind to reach his own pleasure to think about anything else, he continued pounding his dick, gripping his tip as he parted his lips, releasing ecstatic sounds and feeling the reverberations across his body. Leaning against your abdomen, he sensed his shots filling his shorts as he lowered his pace.

You tenderly ran your fingers through his sweaty hair, both basking in the tranquility of the moment as his chest rose and fell. Minds empty.

"Come here, baby," you whispered. He propelled himself up from the water and leaned flat at your side.

As you lay down on the cold poolside with him, he placed his hand on your waist, burying his head in your neck. He rubbed his nose, sensing how your perfume delicately mixed with expelled pheromones, obtaining a small giggle from you.

You swung your leg over his waist, leaning your chest towards him, and stroked his wet hair.

"Thank you," you smiled with closed eyes, sighing. "It's just what I needed."

"I like hearing that," he said, pulling away from your neck to look into your eyes. You looked like a fallen angel with your smudged mascara, swollen lips, tired eyes, and blush spreading across your cheeks.

His gaze instinctively dropped to your neck, observing the love mark on your skin. Though in his mind, he still questioned if this was truly love.

Without delving too much into his thoughts, he gently pecked your lips.

"Pedri..." you sighed, coming down from the adrenaline rush. Sitting up, you supported yourself with your hands and looked at him, recalling internet articles and Elena's words.

"Already want to talk about that?" he asked, huddled up, absorbing the remaining sunlight.

"I'm going to shower," you said, rising from the ground, creating a space for anticipation, allowing him to process and reflect. You knew the house perfectly, having visited many times with the understanding that no one could see you and spend the entire day together.

But meaningful memories were scarce, and you clung to them, hoping that someday it could be more than the fear of being seen together, unable to go to a restaurant or travel together.

You entered the shower, letting the cold water make you reconsider your beliefs. You trusted that, for the first time, you had found something real, a gentleman who stood out in the world of ordinary men, wanting to keep you safe.

You also trusted that you would walk on nails and endure all the thorns of a rose just to be with him. But genuinely, love should be about facing painful situations to prove love for a person, or love should feel welcoming, a place where you would stay for eternity if it had to be so?

You analyzed it, the rain falling on you as you cleaned your body. You wouldn't stay with Pedri; he never felt like a place where you could unload all your baggage without fear.

After all, coming from past relationships, he was your sanctuary at first, stemming from more deficient and unstable experiences. You couldn't stop the solitary tear that escaped your eye.

Since the night you met, you should have realized that nothing good could come from something that was supposed to be just for a night. But you didn't want to listen.

You left the shower, unable to continue ruminating in your head without fainting in the attempt. The drops that weren't allowed to fall from your tear ducts were released by your hair.

You grabbed your clothes, still absorbed in your thoughts. When you finished dressing, you placed your hand on the doorknob. Behind it lay the definition of the future of this strange relationship, and the confrontation was something that terrified you.

You walked into the living room to find him seated, wrestling with his thoughts, head bowed, facing away. Approaching him, you crossed your arms in front of his neck and hugged him, taking in his freshly scented and the slight dampness of his hair. He looked at you wearily, unsure of what would happen, and you gave him a kiss on the cheek before sitting next to him on the gray sofa.

You took his hand with love; you couldn't deny that, despite everything, he had been the source of most of your joys in the last four months. You took a deep breath before letting it out and started speaking.

"Are you mine?" His hand tensed, and his brow furrowed. He didn't understand where such a sudden question came from.

"What?" He responded confused, almost pulling away from you.

"Are you mine or not?" You still hoped for a more certain answer.

"I don't understand where your question is coming from." His expression showed he had never really thought about something like that. At least, was there some kind of feeling for you in his heart? You wondered which person you had been with all this time.

"Just answer it." You let go of his hand; your voice carried a tone of desperation and anguish. You knew you wouldn't get anywhere, but you still needed to cling to the few hopes that remained.

"I don't understand what you mean by 'yours'; we never talked about..." He tried to make another excuse in front of your eyes. It felt as if he were treating you like a little girl, who would eventually leave the question unanswered once she got tired.

"I need to know where we stand! Do you want to be with me or not?" You no longer knew why you kept trying about something that wouldn't change. You stood up from the sofa, and he avoided looking at you.

"Why do you have to make it so complicated? We're just having fun." He shrugged his shoulders, shaking his head. That response could have been worse than a straightforward no.

"Having fun? Do you think I'm with you to have fun with how the media calls me a slut, Pedro?" You shook your head in disbelief, letting out a bitter, pained laugh. "Four months enduring your ambiguities while defending you in front of my friends, saying you needed time." Your voice faltered, recalling all the arguments you had faced, thinking that at some point, everything would change.

"I didn't think you felt that way." He detached himself from his actions, as if it were so simple. Still avoiding eye contact.

"You said you loved me! Did you ever feel genuine love for me?" Your heart tightened; all this couldn't be a big lie where you were the only one playing a game that was already resolved.

"I don't know." He whispered, unsure of how you would react to such an unsure yet determinant answer. Your eyes blurred with contained tears; you couldn't cry like this in front of him.

"You knew everything you were doing; you knew that I was yours, and you didn't care." You screamed, desperate for him to show some emotion, to show that something of everything you had experienced had a hint of reality.

"It wasn't like that." He replied in the same flat tone, this time looking at you and realizing the tears that were falling, while you were motionless, feeling the room spin around you, and your ears ringing again.

"It was exactly like that." You had been sincere from your first conversation, under that neon light on a private yacht. A party where you didn't want to be, he approached you for that simple reason; you were the only girl who hadn't looked at him.

And you had found someone whom you thought had the will and power to heal all your wounds. But you ended up dancing with shadows in glass, with something ephemeral that you thought could be eternal. While you ended up being one of the many prey in his history.

"I gave you everything, I told you about my past and how I needed someone to trust, and you ended up being like everyone else." You released a silent sob and headed towards the room, where you had left your backpack. You were supposed to spend a weekend together, and now everything was withered. Your feigned acts of believing that magic still existed were in vain.

"Where are you going?" You gasped, bumping into him in the door frame; he placed his hands on your shoulders, concerned.

"I called Elena; she'll come to pick me up." You hadn't even talked to your best friend when you sneaked away with Pedri at noon; she would do everything to stop you from leaving, and you preferred not to tell her. But she, without hesitation, as soon as you asked, was already on her way.

"We can try to fix it." You knew he was only offering the response your ears craved. But you weren't going to fall for his spells. This time, his method of still having your strings to manipulate you like a puppet wouldn't work.

"I won't be with someone who never cared about me." You walked to the door, lowering the latch, and turned around once more; he looked at you from a considerable distance. He wasn't going to try to stop you, and that was what hurt the most. "Good luck, Pedro."

You left the house, and the evening air enveloped you. You walked along the walkway made of rocks, each step feeling heavier than the last. Another relationship failing, another person disappointing and discarding you like a crumpled note, forgotten in the margins of a story that never reached its intended conclusion.

Your tears flowed freely down your cheeks now that you weren't facing him. You stood on the street, waiting for Elena to arrive. She had every right to tell you 'I told you so,' and she would be justified.

You saw her black car approaching from the end of the street, parking right in front of you. You hesitated for a moment to get in, embarrassed to ignore someone who only sought your happiness.

She rolled down the window, and your eyes locked inviting you in. Opening the door, she extended her arms, offering solace. Tears streamed down your face as you looked for refuge on her shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Ele." You lifted your head, and she gently wiped away your tears. Shaking her head, she dismissed your apologies.

"I'll always be here by your side. You're the one who needs to learn, but I'll never leave you adrift, okay?" You pouted, and your tears continued to flow.

You both settled back into your seats, stealing glances at the house. A part of you lingered there, and a lump formed in your throat. You sensed that distancing yourself was the only thing that could save you from descending into delirium. Now, you must gather the fragments of your heart once more and rebuild it on your own.

Your eyes went directly to the hickey he had left. You wanted to rip that skin off, not wanting to have him in your memories in any way.

Leaning your head against the window, you wondered what could have been if fame hadn't been the haunting specter in your life. You guessed that you will never actually know.

#pedri x reader #pedri angst #pedri smut #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #football x reader #football imagine #football angst #football smut #pedri imagine

[crybyemissamericanpie]

Pops would fucking hate you - Felix Catton x Masc!Reader

Pops would fucking hate you - Felix Catton x Masc!Reader

i had to rewrite this like 2 times,and i still dont like it but it is what it is

TW:Small fluff,Part-Nudity,Homophobia,Sexual theme meantions, cursing, smoking, meantion of alcohol,daddy issues(lol),overthinking

"My pops would fucking hate you"You humble out with a small smile,head layed on the cold wall,as you stare at the ceiling,feet slowly swinging in the air,sometimes hitting the bedframe, some old song playing in the background

"Oh really?Sounds a bit homophobic innit'?"Your boyfriend humbles back a small chuckle leaving his lips,as he tunes the tabs on his guitar which was in his lap

"that's probably the case"You sigh out,fidgeting with the half-smoked cig between your fingers

Your dad was never really the human rights guy,i mean he was a white middle aged cis straight man,he had no reason to be protesting and support as it doesn't affect him nor his family,or at least thats what he always said until,when you were 10 you and your guy best friend at the time were giggling about how would it feel like to be kissed,so you both find out with each other,it was just a small peck

And that would be just that but as your usual english walls,they were really fucking thin and your father in the other room could hear everything.he never told anyone or mention it to you,it was just the way he looked at you after you came in his room for a charger

The room falls silence for a moment,the guys voice on the record player starts again after instruments,not an awkward silence nor a comforting one.You put the cig between your lips and took a hit,feeling it go to your core,as you get goosebumps from the open window that none of you would bother closing,then you blew the smoke,out and watch it disappear into thin air

Felix stringing a few notes was the one who took you out of your own thoughts.”it doesnt matter,we fucking hate him either way”The boy snarks out,a small comforting smile on his face.This wasnt the first time you talked to Felix about your dad,you both went through the trauma dumping on the second date.You didnt know how to feel about your dad,i mean he was your father at the end of the day,and youve had mostly forgotten about him since you came to uni,but sometimes he would just appear in your mind.

“good point”You look at felix,his tender smile,make every girl and boy melt.It was definitely an experience dating the heartthrob of Oxford.He was new to long term relationships so of course sometimes you'd argue about some stupid girl flirting with him at the local pub and he didn't try to stop her or anything,maybe he was a bit right,maybe you could be a bit jealous,but he doesn't need to know that you kinda agree with him on that

“I think my parents wouldn't believe me if i told them that im dating you”said felix,stroking a few strings on his guitar,like he was about to sing a love song.”i mean like..not even me dating but like dating someone amazing like you”He says as he doesnt break his eye contact with the strings of the guitar,his smile could even be heard from his voice

“yeah sure”You chuckle a bit at his statement,not convinced at all.You take another blunt from the cig.”its true,they probably think that im having sex with girls right now”He says,as he sits up more,looking at you blowing the smoke out of the cig.”i mean..you were in the start of the term”You tease,with a small smirk,as you smear the cig on the glass cig dispenser,next to you on the small table

Felix scoffs,sassily”well that was at the start of the term,before i met you!”he says,both of his eyebrows perked up as he leaned a beat closer,then let himself fall back on the pillows which were leaned on the frame of the bed.

A smirk on your face as you see your boyfriend get a bit worked up”i cant argue with that”You choose to not tease him this time with it”I think my dad knows that im fucking a boy”You wonder,you knew that your dad.Felix hm’d in response,his attention on the guitar again

Silence fills between the two of you only the rain hitting the grass and the vinyls instruments filling up your ears,,as you look at the window,where the now very cold breeze was coming you see that it's raining,water coming on the edge of the window.felix's eyes follow your gaze and he puts the guitar next to you on the bed and gets up and closes the window,his shirt getting rain on it

You overthink a bit of what if he is now upset that you said that your fucking a boy,not actually dating one,Felix was sensitive despite his personality that he puts out,before you wanted to apologize he was taking his shirt off,his muscles beautiful,then he pulls his pants and boxer off in one go,grabbing a new pair of boxer which you guessed was his pajamas.its not like it was the first time you have seen him naked of course,but you cant help but admire everytime.

As Felix straightens up and you start”i'm sorry”You whisper out,hoping you wouldn't have to repeat it,felix looks puzzled”for what?”He asks his voice soft as he walks back to the bed putting the guitar next to his nightstand,sitting down next to you also laying his back against the cold wall

“for saying that i only have sex with you”You mumble out, staring at your socks,as you rest your chin against your knees,he was much more than that to you,much more that you couldn't even put it to words.you wanted to prove it and continue your words but when you would start Felix,puts his hand on your back,with a comforting smile”i know you didn't mean it that way”He says,his eyes glimmering at you,like you were a the last drop of water on planet earth and he have been thirsting for over 1 month

You can't help but smile at his words,making you feel better that you didn't offend him,he never liked when you over thinked.You straighten your legs,then hug him,burying your face in his bare chest,he wrapped his arms around your body,kissing the hair on your head,with a smile,you can feel his fingers drawing shapes on your clothed back.You look up at him,faces close that you could still feel the cheap beer of his lips

“i love you so much”He whispers,it was easy for him to say that,like it was the most simple words in the words,with no meaning behind them.”i want to have you for the rest of my life,have a family and move into a small farm house”He says,his brown eyes tickling,as he stares into yours,you can't help but chuckle as a big smile washes on your face”i know it's..like really early but i know,i feel it”Felix said.he had big plans,and you were one of them.

“i know…i hope too”You say,voice shooting as you give a small peck to his lips,then his lips falls onto yours for a longer kiss,and you don't hesitate to kiss back,lips pressed together as you were 2 pieces of a puzzle.

#felix catton x reader #felix catton x male!reader #felix catton x masc!reader #felix catton #felix catton x reader comfort #felix catton x reader fluff #saltburn #saltburn 2023 #saltburn fanfic #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x male!reader #jacob elordi x masc!reader #jaocb elordi please save me

[corpsebasil]

Love Me Harder

DONT TOUCH ME RN IM JUMPING AROUND THE ROOM

When Ethan accidentally hurts his girlfriend, his fear of hurting her again makes him push her away.

He’d cut you.

So shallowly it was practically a scratch, but you still slapped a hand over your arm as you stared, wide eyed, at Ghostface. You could’ve sworn he’d pulled back, had tried not to do it, when he jumped away from you almost as fast as you did from him. And then Tara was grabbing you, yanking you after them, even as it took Ghostface half a second to recover his senses and give chase.

You’d refused very adamantly to go across the ladder. You were the last one in line, shaking as you looked at the drop. Anika went before you, encouraged by Mindy and Sam to hurry the fuck up, and she’d just made it across to the window beyond when Ghostface burst into the room.

He took one look at you and paused; you were trembling, gripping the windowpane, your eyes glued to the long distance below. Your fear of heights was so bad you could hardly take an elevator, let alone crawl across a ladder to a window several feet away.

“I cant do it.” You wept, shaking your head as your friends screamed at you, urging you to come on. You turned, your panic rising as you saw Ghostface approaching slowly, your cries coming faster and more frantic. “I cant do it please don’t hurt me don’t—” Your scream was abruptly cut off when he passed you, moving to toss the ladder onto the ground below.

Effectively trapping you.

Tara was sobbing loudly as Mindy yelled out curses; you were sure Anika needed to go to the hospital. You were praying someone had called the police.

“Would you hurt a defenseless damsel in distress?” You asked, feeling hysterical as Ghostface turned his head, fixing that cold mask’s stare onto your shaking frame. You inched away, eyeing the bedroom door. “Wait look, what’s that!” He actually looked, turning, when you pointed behind him. Then you ran for it. “No!” You screeched as he tripped you, your body crashing down onto the carpet.

And just as you were sure you were going to die, all because you saw that scene from Nerve and didn’t feel like reenacting it, you heard shouting and cop sirens coming from downstairs and outside. You looked over your shoulder; Ghostface pointed his knife at you, as if in warning, and fled.

Now you sat on the edge of an ambulance, Tara’s hand laced with your own. Your tears had long since dried on your face but you still trembled. Anika had been rushed to the hospital, the police insisting the rest of you stay at the scene, but you’d been told it was uncertain if she’d live.

Mindy had torn into you over your resistance to cross the ladder, but, after seeing your haunted expression, had went on to thank you for letting Anika go first. If you’d have crossed and then froze, paralyzed by fear of falling, she would’ve been left to die.

“Y/N.” Tara whispered, giving your hand a squeeze. You looked up and saw Ethan, a concerned look on his face as he ducked under the crime tape and moved towards you.

Chad gave you a warning glance and moved off off of the ambulance; he was as protective of you as if you were his own sister and as you watched him grab your boyfriend and slam him against a car, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of gratitude at his protectiveness. But you still tensed up, rising a bit from your seat to help.

“Dude, I was in a study hall with a hundred other people. You can ask any of them.” Ethan was saying as you stood.

“Y/N, don’t.” Mindy warned, grabbing your hand as Tara shot you a surprised look. “He could be Ghostface. We can’t trust his ass.”

“I trust him.” You argued, pulling away from her and moving to Ethan. Chad shook his head at you, disapproving, even as you pushed past and wrapped your arms around the brunet boy.

“Oh my god.” Ethan gasped, seeing the bandage wrapped around your arm. He hugged you back, but hesitantly. You’d ignored the way he seemed to stiffen when you held him, but felt a twinge of hurt when he pulled away too quickly. “Who?” He asked, nodding towards the jumble of police officers.

“Quinn.” You said, sniffing, and wiped your cheek with the back of your hand. “And Anika got stabbed. She’s in the hospital—they don’t know if she’ll make it.”

“And you—” an odd look crossed his face as he took in the sight of your arm again.

“I’m fine.” You told him, eager for him to hold you again, but he didn’t. He seemed to take a step back, away from you, like he didn’t want you to touch him. “I couldn’t cross the ladder. He almost had me, E.”

“That’s—” he swallowed. “That sucks. Im sorry.”

“That sucks?” You asked, eyebrows furrowing as you looked at him. He was staring behind you, avoiding your eyes. You’d expected him to be upset; you’d almost died, and he didn’t even have the decency to look too unhappy about it? “Ethan what—”

“Come on, Y/N.” Tara called, but you only stared at Ethan, searching his face for any signs of grief or worry for your safety.

“Did you even hear what I said?” Your voice cracked and he finally looked at you, a frown pulling at his mouth. “Ethan?”

“I heard you.” He said simply and you felt like he’d punched you in the gut. You took a step away, your mouth trembling as he stared at you with a look of blankness.

“Y/N, come on. We’re going to check on Anika.” Tara called you again. The entire group was listening to this exchange. You felt mortified, and hurt, and slightly heartbroken. So you turned, trying not to cry as you climbed into the back of the ambulance, Tara immediately scooting in and wrapping an arm around your shoulders.

“You’re at the top of my list.” You heard Mindy tell Ethan, but you didn’t look at him again, not until you heard Chad say something you couldn’t hear. You saw Ethan’s face grow pale, his eyes finding your own and, right before the doors of the ambulance shut behind the four of you, hurt and fear crossed his expression.

-

It had been days since he’d spoken to you.

The two of you hadn’t talked since the night at Tara’s apartment and you were growing more and more anxious by the day. You’d called him about a hundred times and, when you saw him at school, he dodged you. Your heart was breaking; you loved him, had thought he loved you, and he wouldn’t even speak to you.

So you found yourself at Chad’s dorm, knocking harshly against the door as you wiped the tears of frustration from your face. You didn’t know what to do—yell at him, break up with him, you didn’t know.

Chad opened the door, took in your expression, and shook his head.

“He uh, he can’t talk to you.”

“Why not?” You asked, pushing passed the boy and into the room. He grabbed your hand and, though you tugged, he was stronger than you.

“He’s in—I don’t know he’s been like catatonic the past few days. He says he doesn’t want to see you, I’m sorry.” When you stared, chest rising and falling at a rapid clip, he added, “maybe it’s for the best, Y/N.”

“Fuck that.” You snapped, wrenching your hand away, and moved to Ethan’s room. “You wanna explain what the fuck is going on?” You asked, opening his door and slamming it roughly behind you.

He was already standing, expression pained as you heaved for breath. Your heart was racing so fast you could barely think.

“Y/N, listen,” he started, in a calm tone that infuriated you. “it’s not your fault. I just think that maybe this isn’t working out and—”

“What? The day before we got attacked you said you loved me. You love me. And then all of a sudden, couple days later, and you just—don’t anymore?”

“Y/N—”

“No. You’re gonna tell me the real reason, E. It is because you’re afraid? Did me getting hurt freak you out so bad you’re pushing me away?” Then you paused, your breath hitching as tears began to slip down your cheeks. “Or did you lie? You—” You covered your mouth and turned away, unable to look at him.

“Y/N, please.” Ethan sighed, coming up behind you to touch your waist. He pressed his face against your shoulder as you cried, your body trembling as you fought the urge to sink back into his hold. “I didn’t lie. I love you.”

“Then why?” You breathed, turning to face him. His expression was the most agonized you’d ever seen it, and your stomach turned. “Why, Ethan?”

“I cant—” He shook his head once, twice. “I cant lose you. I don’t want you hurt.”

“Then stay with me. Be with me and we’ll stick together. Ghostface is dumb and we’re smart, remember? We can try and fight—”

“Please go.” He begged, resting his forehead onto your own. “This is hard for me. I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” You murmured, clasping his neck in your hands. Your fingers brushed against his hair as you looked at him, taking in the pained look on his face. “We’re a team? Aren’t we?”

He sniffed and nodded, allowing you to lean up and, as soft as you could, brush a kiss against his mouth.

“I’m sorry, baby.” He whispered, holding you close to him. “I’m so fucking sorry for hurting you.”

“It’s okay.” You told him, kissing him again, and allowed him tug you impossibly close, forgiving him with every inch of your being.

#she doesn’t even know his double meaning by sorry I hurt you #ethan landry #scream six #ethan landry angst #got me crying in the club #Jack champion

[kining-the-evil]

We Can Be Fucked Up Together

(Randy Meeks x Riley!reader)

Summary: You find solace in Randy after your best friend and boyfriend go on a killing spree

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Warnings: making out, no actual smut but allusions to it, memories of murder, murder, former Stu x reader, backflashs to The Night of the murder, blood, reader having sympathy for Stu

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An: This is My first scream fic, And I am very happy to be Writing about Randy. My baby deserves more love

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The walls felt like they were closing in around You. You shouldn’t be alive, the blood loss was already making your head woozy and your midsection was starting to go numb from where you had been stabbed. You chose to believe Billy was the one who stabbed you, otherwise you’d Look Even more pathetic kneeling on the ground trying to stop Stu’s bleeding.

“Stop moving.” You mumbled while putting more pressure on some of his wounds.

“Im feeling woozy!” He whined, And you hated How it made you feel. You shouldn’t feel bad for him. He had killed people, he was planing on killing you, and yet your heart hurt to hear the person you’d loved for the past two years Be in pain.

“You’re going to die If we stay Here-“ You started to try and push yourself to your feet, but a gun to your back stoped you.

“Don’t fucking move,” Billy hissed.

“He’s going to die!” You yelled back, But You didn't try to stand up again.

“Then you better keep pressure on it until i fucking kill Sidney.” He snapped before running off to find Sidney, who had gone to hide somewhere.

Once the gun was gone Your attention went back to the man on Front of you. He had tears in his eyes, but an almost smile on his face.

“Why?” You whispered, unsure if you even wanted an answer.

“Why not?” He chuckled, jerking his arm up and pushing the knife straight into your stomach.

You sat up straight in your bed, letting out a small scream as you ripped at your shirt. The only thought running through your head was ‘i Need This Off.’

“Fuck!” You mumbled, struggling with getting the shirt up. You started to calm when you saw the lack of blood on your shirt. Another nightmare.

As you steadied your breathing, you couldn’t help but notice how small your room felt. How dark it was. You couldn’t stay here. Not tonight. You would either fall back asleep To Deal with nightmares, or Lay awake And Deal with memories. Not that you had a lot of places to go.

You could wake up Dewey, but his pain meds knocked him out. Besides, you didn’t want to bother him. Sidney wasn’t on the best terms with you currently; the two of you were never the closest in your group of friends. The only left Randy.

You stood up and pulled some sweatpants on along with a jacket. You debated going out the window, but you would have to walk the few blocks to his house and you weren’t brave enough for that yet. Instead you quietly made your way through the house, sneaking by your parents and brothers room so you could grab your car keys. Thankfully, your parents slept hard enough that they wouldn’t hear you driving away.

Driving definitely wasn’t the best idea; your entire body was still shaking and you didn’t dare go more then 10 miles an hour. When you arrived at the Meeks, you were quick to turn off the car to not wake the entire family and got out.

Just like you had the other three times this week, you found the window into Randy’s bedroom. You couldn’t see the man, but the tv in his room was on. You knocked on the window lightly, and it didn’t take long for his face to appear in front of you. He quickly opened the window, frowning at you.

“Hey.”

“Hey,” you offered a small smile. He helped you climb into his room, and you took your spot on his bed next to him. He was sat with his back to the wall, an arm wrapped around you. You were cuddled into his side, watching the tv in front of you both. Nightmare On Elm Street.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“How can you watch this shit?” You ignored his question for his own, turning your head away from the screen.

“I love this movie,” he shrugged.

“I used to,” you mumbled. It was silent for a few minutes, saved for the movie playing, before you said something. Something that had been bothering you every day for the past 6 months.

“I should have noticed it sooner.” He tensed slightly, and you immediately regretted saying it; but you had to. The thought had been filling your head for months.

“You couldn’t have.”

“Ya, I could have. My best friend and boyfriend went on a killing spree, I should have noticed something.” Randy pushed you away slightly, making you look up at him.

“Sidney was dating him, should she be blamed for what happened too?”

“Thats different,” you snapped. “She fought back, I tried to save him!” You whisper yelled, worried about the others asleep in the house.

“Thats because its who you are,” he argued back. “You go out of your way to see the best in people, even if they don’t deserve it. Even after what Stu did, you didnt want to be the reason he died.” You flinched at his name, you hadn’t heard it be said out loud other then on the news. Dewey normally shut it off relatively quickly when it was on.

“You told me plenty of times how awful they were,” you pointed out. The tops of his ears turned a light pink, making you frown. Why would he be blushing?

“That may just be because I hated seeing you with them all the time,” he admitted.

It was your turn to blush, your face heating up a bit. ‘He doesn’t mean it like that,’ you reminded yourself. Randy had been in love with Sidney for years, the only reason he hadn’t made a move was to avoid angering the women.

You didn’t actually get a chance to say anything before chapped lips were people pushed against your own. You eyes shot open, surprised by the contact, and he quickly pulled away.

“Shit! Sorry sorry, god. What the hell os wrong with me?” He mumbled the last part to himself. He didnt get much time to feel bad before you reached up to pull his face to your own so you could kiss him again. He made a sound of surprise, but he didn’t fight against it; instead he kissed back. It wasn’t rough, but you could feel relief coming from him. Like any tension was being removed from him.

He pulled you lightly so you would settle on his lap, knees on either sides of him. He kept his hands on your hips while yours slid down to his chest, gripping his shirt lightly, like he would fly away if you let go.

This wasn’t necessarily a new position for you. Stu had you like this plenty of times, but it felt so different. Stu left bruises on your hips, Randy’s hold was gentle. Stu kissed with the intent of going further, Randy kissed you like he was thankful to even get this. Randy felt…safe.

Eventually you had to pull away, your lungs burning from the lack of air. You both stayed just as close, foreheads resting together and you coups feel his breath on your face.

“I thought…Sidney…” you mumbled between breaths.

“I never thought I had a chance with you,” he admitted. “I had you as a friend, so I thought it would be enough. But it wasn’t.” His eyes boar into your own, and it felt like he was staring straight into your soul.

“Caring about me right now will be rotten work. I’m really fucked up” you told him.

“I dont mind. We can he fucked up together.” He offered, making you smile.

“I’d like that.”

#not a request #randy meeks x reader #randy meeks #oneshot #scream fanfiction #scream 1996 #scream randy meeks #my writing

[pricescancerstickk]

Yandere Scream Drabble. Stu (1)

You were so sure ever since you moved to woodsboro no one showed- or hinted signs of having a crush on you. You weren’t all that interested into dating aswell. Still pure.

And you were lucky enough to make friends along the way despite all the various attacks you heard about all over the news, following the death of Casey, Sydney must’ve taken it the hardest. And it showed how it made her so paranoid. Her mother passed away, she knew what it felt like to lose someone. But you were just as paranoid.

First week in woodsboro at the start of high school you met Tatum, and you did see her rather goofy boyfriend, he was very unserious. Stu, and after a while you got well acquainted with the female until you eventually got into the friendgroup, you would think that Tatum were the one who helped to convince them to include you but it was actually Stu.

But the way he had been acting was getting weirder by time passed, he’d only have his eyes on you the entire time. The way he constantly, but subtly was getting all friendly with you and hugging you all the time made you flustered. Squeaking whenever he pulled you into those bear hugs. Chubby cheeks filling with a pink hue all over, he’d smirk at that. It only amused him how you were jumpy. But he knew his plan was working.

“M’not sure, parties aren’t really my thing?..” You chirped, on the other side of the phone with Tatum, your eyes darting, resting on watching outside the window. Parties aren’t really my thing. You always said that. But the truth was you were just reserved and didn’t feel comfortable lingering and drinking all night. She shifted on the other side of the phone.

“Come on Y/n. Please?” Her voice cracked a little, she laughed slightly. “It’ll be fun I promise. We got Randy to bring some movies to watch too,” Your ears perked. You were closest to Randy probably. But not as much as Tatum. He was horror-movie obsessed. You liked them just as much it was only natural to get along with Randy, but the constant teasing of them telling you that you could date Randy just kind of embarassed you.

You weren’t dating and that was that, “But-“ “Also bring your pajamas. I just know you’re gonna pass out mid way through the film on Stu. You always fall asleep.” She teased. And you felt embarassed, you bit your fingers a little, cheeks reddening. “Shut up Tatum..” you pulled your knees to your chest.

Y/n packed a pair of some pastel pajamas. But extra sweater and some pants if she threw up. The poor girl had stomach problems, Slipping the sweater off over her head as she changed into the pink tank top which Stu always told her she looked cute in, she hesitated to wear it infront of him, feeling a bit guilty. Out of pure loyalty for Tatum, she didn’t want to seem like some side chick and seem like she was trying to flirt or seduce Stu, that was wrong. Instead just setting another pink t shirt she wore along with her blue shorts. It was cut short as she got a phone call. But she did know. She’d only realize the next morning that she fell asleep during the movie.

Her finger twirled the cable as she picked up. “Tatum im coming stop calling me—“ “The blonde you hang out with all the time?” A distorted voice mused. You heard a little bit of static. She smiled a little. Giggling “It’s not funny anymore Stu I..I know it’s you” she hesitated.

Y/n was confused. “Is that you s-Stu ? This prank isn’t funny.” She plopped carefreely onto the couch. Kicking her legs softly. “Oh well I don’t know? Cute pajamas you have there. Headed to a party or whatever. Huh? You know..” He paused.

The poor girl’s eyes welled with tears. She couldn’t even choke out a sob. She was scared, she looked frantically out the window and tried to shake herself out her thoughts. Her bare feet tapped the floor. She stood up. “Why are you doing this?” Her whimpers filled the other side of the phone, she shook and turned her head and immediately hung up the phone, she put on her shoes and tried to call anyone. Stu. Billy. Tatum, but no one answered the frantic girl. She immediately knew who this was. She was getting viciously attacked as the week went on. It didn’t help that.

She couldn’t contact anyone

Tatum was already drunk. Sydney was god knows where. Dewey was busy, Randy wouldn’t pick up, she was hopeless. But even if she tried to contact Stu or Billy. She didn’t have their number. Flocking on her pink shoes she immediately stepped out the front porch. Dumb decision

Ghost face was already out there waiting in the dark. The mask’s ‘eyes’ bore into Y/n. She shrieked when he ran. Shutting her eyes tensely and screaming as she shut the door and the figure ran into it, with a low grunt they fell annoyed almost. But their movements were mocking.

Immediately trying to run up the steps pulled back and thrown against the wall. Y/n landed against the hard wall with a squawk. Sinking against the wall descending onto the floor. The figure held the handle of the knife. With a desperate look she tried to hold onto anything for dear life but landed down onto the floor after a harsh throw. Hitting her head on the steps she went limp for a moment. And a grin filled behind the cold mask of the killer

Blood oozed a little from the side of her forehead. Ghost face took her by the ankles. Turning her onto her back. Straddling her snug before he took her face and turned it to the side. Wiping off the blood. Tears were still sliding down her cheeks like a waterfall. He couldn’t. Her chubby cheeks were just so adorable. But it wouldn’t be long before she woke up, his hands which were covered by gloves gripped her cheeks and moved down. Lifting the mask to press a kiss to her chin. If anyone were this gentle with Y/n she would melt at the gentleness. But she sworn. No one at the high school showed signs of a crush.

But this was coming from a killer.

#horror #horror movies #Stu macher #Stu macher x reader #stu macher x you #stu macher x y/n #yandere stu macher #Yandere #Scream 1 #Scream #Scream 1996 #scream x reader #scream x yn #scream x you #self insert #yn #x yn #you x scream

[maple-the-awesome]

You Sacrifice Yourself for Them Part 1/3

Part 2 || Part 3

Pairings: Legend, Sky, Time x GN Reader

Requested by anonymous: HIIIII OMG I JUST WANRED TO SAY i lovelovrloveloveeeee the way you write so much!!!!!!! ur recent loz post had me kicking and squealing in my sear hehehe T_T could i request a scenario with the chain in a situation where the reader sacrifices themselves to protect the boys? im imagining things begging the enemy to take them instead, protecting them from a hit or even something funny like taking the blame for a mistake they made!!! id love to see some angst from you!!!!! THANK U AND HAVE A GREAT WEEK!!!!!💖💖💖💖

Zelda Masterlist 💙 Fandom Masterlist

Shit. Shit. Shiiit.

This was not how this day was supposed to go. This was not how this dungeon was supposed to go! The group calls him 'Veteran' for a reason. He's done more dungeons on his own than the lot of them combined. He's quick on his feet, able to complete the most complex puzzles like child's play, and barely breaks a sweat against the foes that lurk in every damp shadow. Anymore, dungeons are easy (too easy, maybe, compared to some of the rougher...emotionally draining parts of his journeys). 

This was supposed to be just as easy. He had no shame in bragging or flexing his skills, yet all that has officially flown out the window in a way that one could deem quite literal, actually. A quick whiz of air and an echoed shatter that would've reminded him of the wonderful sound of broken pottery if not for how horrifying it was in true comparison. No, that sound was far from exhilarating, especially paired with the image of you falling sideways like a lifeless doll, pieces of tile bouncing off your head and exploding in the air like fireworks trailed by crimson. 

Legend isn't sure if he managed to catch you in time. He probably did, but in his panic he feared you might've hit your head on the floor as if that's not exactly what already happened to knock you out in the first place. Damn floor tiles! Usually they're just embarrassing annoyances when prepared for them, but that's the problem: he wasn't. When those dangerous squares came flying at him at a blurring speed, he expected to take on the hit, not for you to shield him with your own body. What in Hylia's name were you even thinking?!

For what feels like hours but is really only a few seconds, Legend's mind runs rapidly with petrified thoughts: Are you dead? Did he just let you die for his sake? It's supposed to be the other way around if anything! He's the world's punching bag, not you. You're…too special for any of that…

"Hylia, t-that hurt..." Legend snaps out of it only when you groan, barely able to open your eyes against the blinding light of the torch - the only light in the room - which has long been abandoned behind both of you. 

"Are you kidding me?! Are you stupid or something?! What the hell were you even thinking doing that?! Do you know what could've happened if you got hit hard enough or at the wrong angle?! You could've been given a concussion, put into a coma, o-or -"

"- But it could've ruined your pretty face."

Legend’s words choke in his throat as he stares at you as if you've suddenly grown several heads...that or he has just now realized you're the biggest idiot in Hyrule, who knows? Clearly, you're still in a daze yourself, head wobbling around as you blink rapidly with pupils dilated wide. Maybe the whole concussion thing can't actually be ruled out quite yet.

"...Stupid..." Legend mumbles under his breath with a click of his tongue as he looks away from you, "...What about your face then?"

"Awww. You think I'm pretty, too?" 

He huffs instead of answering, carefully helping you up before draping your arm over his shoulders and pulling you securely against his side where he can better keep you from stumbling off into something or, Hylia forbid, trip face first into the ground, causing more damage aside from the goose egg already bruising your forehead and the line of blood dripping down it, "We need to get you to the Traveler. ‘get you fix up.”

"Huh? But what...what 'bout the dungeon?" 

"We can come back later. The treasure at the end probably isn't worth it anyways if floor tiles are what's guarding it."

You hum distantly, dropping your head directly against his without any notice to the way this makes his cheeks flare unwillingly, "...Hey Legs?"

"What?"

"Can you please not tell anyone I got beat up by pieces of floor?"

Legend snorts and pretends to think your question over, "Hmm…In light of you saving my life, I guess I can keep that promise."

"Thanks, bun."

"You know, on second thought, maybe I won't."

Sky awoke in a pleasant mood that was only made better upon remembering his current whereabouts. He had a wonderful dream about being back home during peaceful times, and while disappointed to leave such a relaxing feeling, at least he found himself still in that cozy little inn the Chain decided to stay at for the night. What was better was that it appeared to be rather early. The sun was barely shining through the window, only barely peeking over the village roofs, and the room itself was silent aside from the sound of some snoring which confirmed that the rest of his roommates were still fast asleep, thus Sky figured there would be no harm in dozing off for a few extra minutes until he hears someone else get up for the day…That was his plan, anyways…

"...Hey Sky?"

"Mmm?"

"You, uh, know there's only ten minutes until eight, right?"

In a blink of an eye, Sky shoots straight up, suddenly not feeling so tired. Rubbing his eyes and bearing through his new headache, he's horrified to confirm that you must be right. The window is now glowing in a bright gold, showing a bustling little village outside. You, yourself, are already dressed in your tunic, hair done and ready to go. Legend and Wind, who had been your other roommates last night, must follow the same status seeing as neither of them nor their belongings are here anymore. It's just you and Sky.

In an instant, he leaps out of bed, nearly tripping yet recovering as he hurries to find his own belongings which seems a lot harder to accomplish in his panicked state compared to any other day. You, meanwhile, replace his spot upon the bed, sitting down there with an apologetic look, "I would have woken you up sooner, but I wasn't sure if you were purposefully sleeping in."

"You're alright - uh, thank you for waking me up at all," Sky backtracks when he remembers he had folded his tunic under his bed, kneeling down to grab it along with the rest of his belongings stuffed under there, "Where's the Vet and Pirate?"

"Already at breakfast. Wild dropped by a little while ago to say that it would be ready soon. I'm sure the others are already digging in."

"Crap."

"I'm sure there'll be enough left for us regardless. He always makes so much whenever we stay somewhere with an actual kitchen..." Despite Sky having worn an undershirt to bed, you still feel the need to awkwardly look away as he pulls the rest of his clothes overhead, "You must have a real talent for sleeping because the rest of us woke up to a loud 'thud' and cursing...'don't think Legend will be taking the top bunk at the next inn we reach."

Fully dressed, Sky's first order of business should really be to rush downstairs instead of testing his luck with angry companions, but he takes the time to spare you a glance instead, "Why haven't you gone downstairs yet?"

The question, once thought of, weighs heavy on his mind. You just said that you awoke with the others, however you chose to stay here and risk getting in trouble yourself for tardiness rather than joining them. 

You merely shrug as if it’s of no concern, "I figured I'd wait for you. Like I said, I didn't know if you were purposefully sleeping in and I would've felt worse if I fully gambled on that, leaving you to sleep until noon and suffer Time's wrath."

Sky fidgets and stares down at his feet, although when he opens his mouth to say something, you're standing again while pushing him towards the door, "But let's not push our luck too far, alright? Time was pretty adamant about getting out of here at a decent time."

Yes, he was. He had made a strict point of that last night which is further emphasized by the fact that he is already standing at the bottom of the staircase by the time you both appear at the top of it. It appears that he was just about to make his way up to scold you, but since you've so kindly met him halfway, he can do that from here, "I assume there's a good reason for sleeping in yet again, Skyloftian?"

Sky gulps under the Old Man's glare, prepared to take on whatever punishment that will soon follow seeing as he's officially reached his limit of making the entire group late, however as quickly as he begins to dread the thought of taking on an extra watch for the night or doing a supply run with his own rupees, you're beating him to an explanation, "It's my fault, actually. I had a rough night and didn't realize what time it was until Sky woke me. If he hadn't waited for me, he wouldn't have been late so don't be too mad at him, okay?"

"That's not -" Sky's head whips towards you in surprise, however he falls silent when you give him a look that commands it.

Time hums, glancing between the two of you without much sign that he believes your lie. He has no reason to considering that Wind had already mentioned you were up and at 'em this morning. Perhaps if you had crossed his path earlier for this conversation, he would’ve been more inclined then to point this out, forcing you to confess the truth, although it’s five minutes till eight now meaning he'd be wasting time none of you have to argue not to mention he really doesn't care so long as everyone’s ready to go.

"Well, since you're both technically down here before eight, I'll let it slide this time," He narrows his eyes at you both, taking some sort of pride in how you each bow your heads shamefully, however that's the extend of it before he turns his heel, "But it's up to you to savage yourselves breakfast before Wild packs it up and I still expect you all to be out in the lobby by eight sharp, not a second later even if it means you have to go without a starting meal for today."

"Yes, sir!"

"I'm okay. Worry about the Old Man first."

"Clearly you're not fine. Your arm -"

"- I've had worst -"

"- That doesn't matter. You're still injured."

This argument isn’t going anywhere. Anyone in the group could see that, but are they brave enough to point it out? Considering the fact that they all stand by in awkward silence, probably not.

The last battle was a tough one which may be a bit of an understatement considering Time and you both walked away with some serious wounds to show for your victory. Time had been knocked in the head by a Moblin club, thrown backwards where he then laid unconscious for several moments only to awaken with a gash in the club’s former place, although still a far less visible injury compared to yours. You didn’t miss the way Sky kept gagging when helping you back into camp, unable to so much as glance at the terrible result of a Lizalfos sword slicing through your arm. Provided the extent of these soon-to-be scars, everyone would expect (and hope) that the two of you would be eager for Hyrule’s healing magic, however they were quickly proven otherwise. 

“So? I’ll live.”

“Not without medical attention.”

“I’ll take a potion.”

“I thought you didn’t have any left?”

You curse to yourself before sticking your nose into the air with a stubborn change of subject, “You know, last time I checked, a head injury is a lot more serious than a simple cut!”

Time ignores your claim, feeling his face grow warm in irritation (or maybe that’s due to the fresh blood dripping down from his hairline), “You call that ‘a simple cut’?”

You merely shrug, readjusting the crimson cloth you currently press to the nasty slice that parts your skin directly down from your shoulder into your bicep. It no doubt burns like the fires of Death Mountain which you don’t hide despite your persistence in turning down any aid. Your face is scrunched into an expression of pain, a hiss leaving your hips whenever you move the cloth or your arm in any way, yet you still meet Time’s eyes with no sign of budging.

“Twilight, tell him he’s being ridiculous!” 

The poor farm boy leaps in place when you both end up turning his way. Although not another word is said by either of you, he understands that voiceless command of Time’s stone cold glare: he isn’t to say a word - not a word - that could be taken as a form of agreement towards your cause. He’s to be a good boy and point out that your arm isn’t going to fix itself, thus you should be the first to be tended to by Hyrule. Of course, he cares about your wellbeing and would definitely side with his mentor and his intimating ways if not for how the older male sways side-to-side with the wind, clearly struggling to maintain himself as the effects of a serious concussion start to take its toll on him.

“...(Y/n)...does have a point..." Twilight mumbles, gulping when Time’s glare darkens.

Thankfully for him and all the others who stand by with their heads down, including little Hyrule who’s been stuck between you both too fearful to make a peep, Warrior has finally had enough of this, officially having no problem taking charge with his annoyance made clear through his stern voice, “The longer you both argue about this, the longer you both go without medical attention, so please, for the love of Hylia, will one of you just swallow your damn pride and let Hyrule do what he needs to?”

There’s no instant reaction, neither of being too eager to see Warrior’s very valid point, however after glancing at you once more and noticing how tightly you’re holding onto your arm, Time sighs at long last, resulting in a chorus of others to follow, “...Fine. I’ll go first.”

This satisfies you, allowing you to relax your muscles and focus on keeping that cloth pressed to your arm while Hyrule begins working his magic to fix Time’s own injury, although as always, the Old Man has to have the last word, shoving his pouch towards you with a grumble, “At least take a red potion in the meantime. It should dull the pain.”

Thankfully, you don’t argue as he feared you would based on your initial hesitation. Instead, you huff, but ultimately dig through the pouch to locate the bottle which you pop the cork off of dramatically, “Fine.”

#legend of zelda #linked universe x reader #linked universe #link x reader #lu time x reader #lu legend x reader #lu sky x reader

[just-some-random-blogger]

Hey honey! Could I get an extremely wild NSFW with Daemon x Martell/dornish reader. Where she is extremely bold and has fame to rival his and at first she doesn't like him, but he is willing to do it She changes her mind about him (and he does) as they spend time together she ends up realizing he's not that bad, thus forming a solid friendship, but the sexual tension and mutual desire between them is extremely strong (almost palpable) then one night while they are spending quality +

Killing Me Softly

Daemon Targaryen x Martell!Reader

Summary: Daemon, as unopposed as he was to be forced into a marriage so that he would no longer disrupt the matters of the crown, he found himself wanting nothing else but to marry the Lady Martell

Word Count: 5k+

Warnings: physically abusive!daemon, fem!reader, reader injures daemon, they're both really toxic to each other, literally opens with smut [daemon takes liberties with intoxicated reader, manhandling, oral (m receiving), semi-public sex, vaginal penetration, name calling, pulling out, breeding kink], fuck buddies to/& enemies (to lovers ?), i describe reader's hair, i name reader's sister, idk asoiaf lore so I just made stuff up, typos, etc.

A/N: another day another 5K+ smut MINORS DNI. it's hard being a simp [sigh] i put the second part of your ask below the gif cos i wanna see matty's stupid face when i get notes lol, but dont be deceived by it his cutesy face, this fic aint cutesy at all RIP. ok so i did research about the martell fam and i found out they're referred to as prince/princess because of a Targaryen ancestor that comes along long after daemon's existence and i almost made her a princess BONK let's just pretend i know what im doing. i took liberties on your prompt btw anon, i found the idea of writing another enemies to lovers exhausting which was why it took a while for me to get back to you. i think it came out a lot darker and there's a lot of mind fuckery involved. i hope you still like it. Tagging: @pinksirensong @deniixlovezelda

Daemon grunts and grabs my brownish blonde hair, coiling the curls around his hand has he maneuvers my head back and forth.

"Just like that," he urges and I grip his thighs for dear life.

Daemon leans against the wall as his hips involuntarily thrust into me. It was nothing I couldn't handle, not when I was used to it, and his particularly selfish desires. However, even after all his brutalizations, my jaw still cannot keep up with him nor can my lungs.

I let out a muffled sound when he hits the back of my throat. I feel myself gag around him and tears water my eyes as it get harder to breathe. I try to pull away but he is too greedy with my mouth, and has me locked in his grip by my hair.

I pound on his thigh, and his eyes that he screwed shut finally open.

He pants as he pulls me off him. A string of saliva drips down from my lips and I look up at him in annoyance. My insult comes out strangled and hoarse, "selfish prick."

Daemon smirks as he watches me get to my feet. I wipe the wetness of my lips off. He grabs me, and pushes my chest up against the wall. His hands claw and bunch up my skirt as he breathes against my ear, "you act as though I do not reward you for your service."

His hands make their way to my dripping heat, and we both hiss when he begins his ministrations on me.

"Is it a reward if you're only paying me my dues for what you so desperately begged to get?" I mutter through strained breathing.

I lean against him and reach for his neck behind me.

He pushes me off, dragging me to the side up until I was leaning against the open window. He grabs my hair again, my hands instinctively dart to it. I moan when he slowly enters me. I hear him pant as he begins to thrust. He pushes my skirt farther up as to get a better hold on my hip, "maybe you should ask your devotees what they think?"

"Daemon," I groan in gratification as he rams into me.

He hums. His chest rises and falls before he chuckles, "they're not gonna hear who's fucking you good when they're not if you don't pipe up."

I squeal when he releases my hair and places all his vigor into the flicking of his hips. I dig my fingers into the stone opening for dear life, just as he digs into my sides. The pain of his grip intensifies the pleasure rising in my core.

"Daemon," I grunt, "yes, yes, harder!"

Daemon is half-amused, half-breathless, "needy bitch."

He does not disappoint though. As much as he takes, he gives back, if only to prove a point of his manhood.

I let out a struggled and broken cry when he lifts my torso up closer to him and slams into my sweet spot. My knees can barely keep my standing as my feet lift and crash from the ground. My arms helping to push me up begin to shake when I feel my orgasm near.

"Fuck," I drag out breathily, "I'm so fucking close, Daemon."

He grunts and gracelessly shoves me back down. Had my arms not already been out, I would have slammed my head into the fucking rock. I whimper in pain, but have no time to tell him off as I am busy chasing my high.

"COME ON!" he growls.

Three thrusts in then I'm coming all over him. I let out the loudest and lewdest sound I could muster. It hikes up and down in volume because of his pounding.

In the middle of it all, he pulls out and leans against me. He is still heavily catching breath when I stir beneath him and turn over. Once I am sitting on the sill, Daemon pushes between my legs and rests against me. I tense at his affection and push him away, giving him a stern look, "did you fucking come on my dress again?"

Daemon's features harden upon hearing this.

"This would be the fourth dress you've ruined, you vile cretin."

"It's not like you make sport of reusing your garments anyway."

"Because you keep staining them!" I quip.

He lets out an annoyed breath as he moves off me, roughly fixing himself in his trousers.

I roll my eyes at him and flatten my bunched skirt. Once I was all sorted out, I call out to both sides of the hall, "if anyone's there, you can pass now."

Daemon eyes me darkly as he finishes tying his breeches.

Just then, one of the younger maids squeak and hurriedly makes her way down the hall with her head hung low.

I release a sigh as I get to my feet twisting back to see the damage he's done on my burnt sienna dress.

"It's not that bad."

I see the blot on the fabric and groan in annoyance. "Not that bad?!" I seethe, shoving him on his chest.

Daemon still manages to find it in him to chuckle.

"Now I have to have someone wipe that off."

"Or," he reaches out to me, "we can go have a hot ba-"

I swat him away.

Daemon's expression changes drastically, "bitch."

"Addict," I spit.

"Hussy," he grabs my jaw.

"Dick," I shove him off me with so much force he is actually surprised when he shoots back, nails grazing my face in the process. With that, I scream my servant's name as I storm down the hall.

Daemon watches as the sound of heels clicking fills his ears.

It was a relief that I found Audrey quickly, and that she managed to remove the traces of the prince on my dress as I removed traces of him on my skin.

Once I looked like the lady I was, face painted, shiny hair styled just the way I like it, and not utterly fucked and manhandled, I make my way down to the festivities in our dining hall.

My lips curve up when I feel the room shift its attention to me when I walk in. I bask in the attention, rolling my shoulders back as I caress the large diamond on my sternum, drawing even more attention to the plunging neckline of my dress.

The crowd parts for me as I make it across the room, heading for the seat at the head of the table that was prepared for me. I pay no one regard as they nod and greet me. Why would I?

Halfway through, I see him rip through the crowd toward me. Daemon gives me a boyish grin and extends his hand out to me. I release a breath at the look upon his face and take his hand.

"Beloved," he mutters, eyes fixed on me as he places a kiss on the back of my hand.

I forfeit a response to his performance, but cannot withhold my surprised chuckle when he spins me around and pulls my back flush against his chest.

"Your servant is truly a miracle worker," he mutters against my ear.

I scoff at his words, knowing he saw missing stain on my skirt.

The crowd intently watches our display and I let out a genuine laugh when I pull away from him, "and you a truly a menace, my prince."

The two of us then make our way to our seats at the table. The moment we do, music begins to play and people head off to the center of the room to dance.

Daemon sits to my left, leaning back with an indifference to it all. He is bored of it, and was only here because I told him to be. He reaches his hand to my skirt from under the table. I let him draw shapes on me with this fingers. I could not care less.

I watch the people make merry before me. I watch them step and twirl to the sound of the music. I smile although my chest constricts as I recall a time in my life when I was as carefree as the atmosphere.

I turn to Daemon, bored still. He was the personification of my cynicism, the marker of my truth: I existed only for duty.

We both turn to my right when my name is called out.

And here she was, our youngest, my pretty sister; a beacon of light that reminded me everything I was no longer. I smiled at her as she went my side. She leans down to kiss my cheek and I offer her the same sentiment as she greets us both.

"Sister," she smiles, "Prince Daemon."

"Lady Castella," Daemon offers a small smile. His fingers continue to absentmindedly draw on me.

"I want to introduce someone to you," she inhales deeply as she pulls a grin on her face.

Two men then walk over to the table, and I instantly find some recognition of the old man. The sight of him makes my face contort in contempt.

"Sister," Castella lets out a breath as she extends her hand out, "Lord Michael Yronwood and his son, Lord Perros."

"The Ladies Martell," the balding man wags his wrinkly jowls then turns to the man beside me, "Prince Daemon Targaryen."

I scoff at his greeting and straighten myself up.

My sister stiffens beside me as I watch the boy great all of us individually.

"At least you have proper manners," I say to Perros as he raises his head up after bowing.

Daemon holds back his laugh.

Before I could remark at the stink eye the elder Yronwood was giving me, my sister catches my attention with her words, "this is the man I have been telling you about."

I turn to her in disbelief, "the Yronwood boy?"

Castella licks her pink lips before nibbling on it nervously.

I idly turn back to the thing that won my sister's favor. I take in his thick, dark hair, wondering when he will begin to bald like his father. I take in the broadness of his shoulders, wondering when he shall need a shabby cane as well. I take in the eagerness and restlessness of his expression and measure it against the sardonic expression of the old man beside him.

"Is it true that you write my sister poems?"

Perros freezes. His father beside him eyes him hotly.

We all look onto the man caught off guard and my patience quickly runs dry over his silence. I allow him a few more seconds, but he does not pipe up to even stutter like the lost child he is.

"Clearly he is too stupid to even utter a word to me," I turn to my sister.

"I beg your pardon," the boy's father quips as he leans on his cane.

"No," I raise my brows at him, "I will not pardon you, Lord Yronwood." I turn to my sister, "what has-"

"It is clear you cannot breed the whore out of someone, even with Martell seed," the geezer scoffs, "I should have your tongue for your insolence."

I turn to him with furrowed brows. My sister's jaw hangs low. Daemon shoots out of his chair, causing it to fall back with a thud and make the entire room go silent.

That is what it takes for him to realize his mistake. The hot glare of the prince renders his ugly face uncomfortable. He grabs his son by the arm, "I knew this was a mistake."

I hear my sister whimper beside me as Perros struggles against his father. He manages to pull away without injuring his raggedy hand and snaps at him, "What you did was a mistake. I love her, father!"

"Her mother is a whore!"

The sound of my laughter draws everyone's attention to me. Their eyes are blown, shocked, disturbed, and it amuses me further, excites me that my breath leaves me even quickly.

When my sister places a hand on my shoulder, a knowing gesture to my knowing actions, I swat her away and calm myself.

Daemon watches me, watches how my face ticks.

"Yes, oh you caught us," I utter as my breath evens out, "my mother was born, raised, and worked in a brothel before her hypnotizing cunt ensnared my poor daddy, the Lord Martell."

I raise my voice when the gremlin thinks to interrupt me, "AND YOU THINK TO LEAVE..." I lean against the table, "leave out the best part!" I smile, "she was a bastard of the Lannisters."

I chuckle again, flipping my golden hair back, "not that there's any proof to that," I tilt my head offering a wicked smile, "and yet, here you are. Under the roof of the late whore's home, submitting to her whore spawn because your son fell for the whore's daughter,"

I stand to my feet, "the Lady Castella of house fucking Martell."

I hear the shuffling of the guards from the side, who had been on edge ever since the music. I hear one of them call to me. I knew it was Aleksander, and I knew he was ready to kill for me.

I smirk.

The crows stirs.

The Yronwoods begin to stiffen in panic.

"You are outranked, outnumbered, and fucking ugly," I break into a laugh. I gesture upwards, "I am only now recalling why I am so pissed by the sight of your monstrosity. Were you not the same Yronwood that tried to marry off the same pawn to me not long ago?"

I turn to his son, breaking yet again into another laugh.

Daemon shifts in his spot, smiling to himself as he watches me on his side.

"And this was after you made issue of the charity I give the peasants. A farce, you said, to give back to the less fortunate."

"Perros," my sister's calls. My eye twitches at it. It cuts off my anger briefly. I narrow my eyes at the said man. How good could his dick be?

Michael Yronwood although rendered speechless, arrogantly kept his head high. His son, Perros, could do nothing but hang his head low in shame as my sister looked out to him.

I heave and feel anger rise at the sound of my sister's hushed cries. How dare these fucking gremlins cause her this distress, at one of our house's feasts, an occasion she adores, no less.

My lips twitch, "you should be glad I care about the less fortunate, because you are so clearly desperate for all these things that you lack: prestige, wealth, and face that is not so hideous to look at-"

Daemon could not hold back his chuckle.

"and so I will not have you quartered and hung in the town square."

The Yronwoods turn to me in shock. My sister pleads my name out, and it further fuels my anger.

"Perros," I call loudly turning to the boy, "I present you now two choices: you either leave my sister alone and keep your lovelorn poetry to yourself, or," I turn his father, "you can marry her in return for your father's head."

"You DARE," he raises his cane, "threaten my son in front of me!"

I giggle, "it is not a threat," then lunge at him to grab his cane.

He is jarred by my actions and nearly topples back when he pulls away. It is a shame his son keeps him upright.

"My word," I examine his family crest on the cane, "is law," I throw his cane behind me.

"You deranged wench!"

"Call me what you like, filth," I grin, "I am the first born of house Martell, betrothed to house Targaryen. Do you think anyone would defy me?"

"The prince will never wed your defiled cunt!"

"Father, that's enough!" Perros begs.

"He has not married you still because-" the old fuck cuts himself off when Daemon climbs over the table, kicking all the food down, and grabs him in his fury.

"You should have kept your tongue while my bride allowed you to keep it. Now I demand it," Daemon seethes, gripping the large oaf by his collar, before extending a hand out to his side, "we are awaiting the return of her father and brothers before we wed, but you would not understand honor or familial duty even after I cut your tongue out."

"Daemon, please," my sister begs, leaning against the table.

"HAND ME A FUCKING BLADE!"

Castella turns to me, gripping my arm tightly.

I cannot bring myself to turn to her as I command, "release him."

"No," Daemon seethes.

"RELEASE HIM!"

Daemon grinds his teeth as he grips the man's collar with both hands again. After, he shoves him off with much force. Again, much to his luck, his son keeps him upright. Had that not been the case, he would have surely fallen and cracked his skull.

I eye Castella and nearly falter at the sight of her tears. I clench my jae, "I have given my word."

She calls my name out, "please, do not-"

With that, I storm out of the place.

Daemon was too caught up in his own anger to realize this. He gives the order to haul the Yronwoods' arses out of the place, and by the time he notices my absence, it was too late.

Much like our routine, Daemon spends the rest of the day that fades into the night, looking for me. He searches In our estate, the establishments nearby, the places I frequent, and the places he has never seen me enter before. He finds me in the very place that I owed my existence to, the brothel my mother worked at.

Daemon could not even let relief wash up on him as he watches me grind up down on the guard I was relieving my angers on.

He rubs my sides as I push my tongue into his mouth.

I scream when I am pulled off him from my hair.

I am thrown off to the side. There is a sound of brawling. I look up and see my snogging partner grip his side in pain as he is hauled out of the place.

I get to my feet in time to witness Daemon shove the guy out the door. I heave as I grab a cup of ale. As he comes up to me, I finish downing whatever remained of it

I gulp the last of it when Daemon grabs the cup and throws it to the side, hissing at the smell of alcohol on me, "are you out of your fucking mind?"

I get on my toes and lean up at him, "yes."

He recoils at my breath and grabs my wrists when I reach out to him. The next thing I know, I am thrown over his shoulder and being hauled out myself.

It's a miracle I do not slip off him, or that the alcohol I consumed did not slip out of me.

Somehow, I am in my chambers.

Like clockwork, I head to the stored wine in my room and gracelessly intake it. Daemon catches it out of my grip and leaves me and my dress in a mess when it splashes all over the place.

I catch my breath as the red cascades all over me.

"What is wrong with you?" Daemon asks, as he pulls the now empty container from me. I grab the other one and run away to drink as much as I could. I barely get to drink any as the prince grabs it. He pulls away from me to empty its contents out the window.

I fight against him when he does so, and out of annoyance, he grabs me by the throat, making my hands dart to his grip.

He releases me when all the wine is wasted. He moves away to put the object back where I got it.

I groan and heave as I watch him walk away.

By the time I catch my breath, I storm towards him. "Stop using your fucking strength against me!" I screech. I lunge at him just as he turns. I manage to the glass he just placed back on the table.

I manage to hit him once on the nose but he he catches both my arms before I could injure him further.

Part of me is shocked when he begins to bleed, but another part is enticed by the way he licks the red off his lips.

Of course, he overpowers me. He brings my hands down in front of him and eyes me darkly. I whine out in pain at how roughly he was gripping me. I eventually release the container and it drops to the floor with a crashing sound.

He pushes me back, and I could do nothing against it.

I crash down on my bed, breathing taxed, I look up at him as he seals my hands beside my head. I am unable to move beneath his bodyweight.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" he hisses as his blonde hair falls down to my face.

I find myself laughing at his vexation, "you're awfully clueless for someone that was there."

His nostrils flare. Discomfort shots on his face because of his injury, "were you seriously affected by that vermin's words?"

I laugh harder. Daemon makes a face at the hot, alcohol laced breath that hits him. "Of course not."

"Then why?"

"See, the difference between you and I is that I actually know I'm a lunatic," I crane my neck up at him, "while you are wound up in your own self-righteousness."

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

I drop my head and close my eyes. Castella's face burns in my mind, "I just ruined my sister's life."

"No," he quips, loosening his grip when he feels me relax beneath him, "you saved her from marrying into a family of idiots."

Daemon measures my reaction before he pulls away from me. Tears continue to leave my shut eyes when I feel my shoes get pulled off me. I am too sad to care about how I am suddenly being hoisted up. Daemon has me lean against him when he peels me out of my dress.

He makes me sit up on my own. I open my eyes when he caresses my face.

He wipes my tears with his thumb while examining me for a moment. He then undoes the braids and accessories fashioned in my hair.

I fall back on the cushion when he is done. At this point he pulls my skirt down my legs.

My sobs are slightly ceased when I feel a damp towel get thrown at me.

"Wipe yourself down."

I don't. Why would I? I don't care. Where did he even get this?

Daemon returns to me, grumbling in High Valyrian as he takes the towel and wipes the red stains on my skin away.

I only realize he was changed out into his own sleeping attire when he puts me into my nightgown.

I look at him dumbly for a moment. It was as though I had forgotten everything that happened up until this moment. It was not farfetched after all. The candles in the room made his cut and inflamed nose look worse than what it was. Or at least that's what I tell myself.

I bring my hand to his face. He lets me.

He watches me silently.

More tears fall from my eyes, but I cannot bring myself to apologize. I don't even know if I feel sorry.

Daemon does not need it. He shifts on the bed and pulls me onto him when he leans back by the pillows on the headboard. I look at him and shift from my spot, moving to straddle his lap. He places his hands on my thighs as he watches me wipe my tears away.

I take a moment to calm myself. I take a moment to gather my thoughts. I feel Daemon relax beneath me. I feel him rub my thighs in comfort. It's enough for me to roll my hips on his.

He holds back as moan as he leans his head back.

The next moment, he hisses and holds me in place, "you will not remember it was I that fucked you in your state."

"Then tell me in the morning."

He says my name as though it was a warning.

"If you did not want me, then I would not be on your lap."

"And that's the problem, isn't it," he chides, throwing me down on the bed, spinning us around so that I was again under his mercy, "I want you. I want you every second of every day, and yet you do not want me back."

I am unremorseful of his words. I am stoic beneath him as I press my feet on the cushions, "and why would I want you?"

"Because you should be mine!" he mutters sharply, "-are mine. You are promised to marry me!"

I begin to feel exhaustion wrap around me. I close my eyes.

He grabs my head and pulls me close, "yet you insult me by readying yourself to the first man you say your eyes upon."

I am uninterested when I retort, "you only want me because I do not want you, Daemon," I wrap my arms around him and peel my eyes open, "but I do not want you to want me like that."

I wrap my legs around him and suck in a deep breath, "I want you to want me like Ezekiel, who begged at the gates for a mere glance of my face."

Daemon's jaw clenches.

"Like Allyrion, who you still have in locked in our prison but comes alive when I grace him with my presence," I whisper, "the Dalt brothers, Timothy and Bolton, who now despise each other because of how they both wanted to marry me. Rowan, who feels no regret, though you broke his arm after catching us fuck in this very room."

He heaves and attempts to pull away from me.

He drops my head and I grab his, pulling him close, "you want my fire, dragon, but you must scrape the skin on your knees begging for it like everyone else before you."

Daemon does not take kindly to this.

He never does.

He thinks he's so smart and scary but he doesn't realize that he plays into my desires as easily as his temper is triggered.

He leans back into me and shuffles with his clothing. "I'll make you show me how to beg," he seethes.

He was never one to shy from a fight, and in this moment, he was fighting both me and himself with every bit of him. The next second, he is ramming all his anger and frustrations into me.

I admit, it's truly a humbling experience to be at his mercy, helpless, unable to do anything that he will not allow. And yet as he breaks me, he helps me continuously break him the way I have been the moment I met him. I squeal out his name as my mind races with the thought.

He presses my hands beneath his. He is so rough and forceful I begin to slip upward because of his actions. He does not care, and only busies himself by losing his sanity over my wetness, my screams. But then it annoys him and he has no other choice but to pin me down by hips.

"Tell me who's fucking you like this?"

"Daemon," I obediently retort.

He hums as he maneuvers my legs, "and do you want me to stop?"

I whine gutturally, "no! Don't stop!"

His annoying and spiteful self does just that though, and leaves me in a panting mess as I look up at him.

"Beg for it."

I plan my timing carefully. I watch how he watches me, thinking he's in control. I reach out to his hands and lick my lips as I roll against him.

"BEG, I SAID."

"Daemon pleeeasssee," I whine as I roll my head back and arch my back.

"Louder."

"Daemon, please!"

"Louder!"

"DAEMON JUST FUCKING FUCK ME-" I rip out with a high pitched moan when he begins to thrust into me again. He leans down and begins to sink his face into neck as he continues his brutalization.

I let out unabashed cries of pleasure as he sucks on my skin. I dig my hands into the roots of his hair and call out his name like a sacred prayer.

"I will burn my seed into you," he threatens, "you will not escape me. I will fuck you over and over and over again until you're swollen and spent."

Daemon excites himself with the idea and picks up the pace, "your pretty cunt will bear me a strong Targaryen."

I picture the idea of carrying his blonde babe.

He tightens his hold on me.

"I will put a dragon in you," he mutters, pulling away to rest his forehead on mine, "and have us married at daybreak by the traditions of my house."

I whine at the building tension in my stomach.

Daemon lets his mind wander. Lets himself imagine his future, his children, his bride.

He closes his eyes and loses himself as he buries all his thoughts deep beneath him. He relishes the warmth, the softness, the readiness beneath his unforgiving force.

I catch my breath as I dig my teeth into his skin, absolutely ready to come undone before him. "Daemon," I whisper arduously.

That's all it takes for him to realize what he's doing.

Before either of us could even reach our highs, his pace begins to grow sloppy. I whimper at the loss and do not wait for him to quicken his pace again.

With a grunt, I roll him off me and find myself on top him.

I look down on him as I ride him. I lock his neck in my grip. He chokes at my harshness and I lick my teeth at the sight of him. I allow him the courtesy of a breath as I fuck myself on him. I knew he would not have it in him to stop me.

And just as I thought, he holds onto my hips and screws his eyes shut, basking in the feel of me.

I groan as I watch him, "come inside me, my dragon. Claim me like you have been dreaming."

Daemon digs his nails into my flesh. His final act of deviance. It is for naught. He is powerless against me.

And in the rare occasion, we both come at the same time. The feeling is overwhelming, mind melting, toe curling. It is the best fuck we've had in a while.

I do not relent against him. I milk both our reactions for all that I've got, and once I'm reeling, I allow myself to stay on top of him for a moment to catch my breath.

He opens his eyes when I pull away from him.

He thinks about what he said, his desires for his seed.

I think about how badly I want to wash myself down.

Daemon watches me as I head off to the bathroom. He's already cleaned up by the time I return.

He does not wake before dawn. He had been relishing the warmth in his arms. This was why when he opened his eyes and saw nothing but a ghost of who he laid with, he was awakened with bitterness and betrayal.

He is unkept when I see him in the courtyard. He did not fix his hair, did not wash his face, did not change out of his nightly attire. He stares at me as I am served breakfast.

"My prince," I smile, "might you join me for some food?"

Daemon looks at me for a moment, watches as I scold the maid for giving me the chipped tea cup that I absolutely despised.

I turn to him when he walks over to me.

One of the servants pull the chair out for him and I offer another smile. Daemon does not sit down when I tell the servants to prepare his preferred dish.

"Last night..."

I look at Daemon and knit my brows.

"What happened to your nose?" I question as grab his hand and make him sit down next to me. He does not resist. He does not pull away when I push his wild hair back. I move the chair closer to his. There is skidding sound because of it.

When he does not reply, I know my mind games are working. I braid his hair behind him when I repeat, "last night."

Daemon does not move. "I promised I would marry you at daybreak," he whispers.

"Did you?" I feign ignorance, "it's a little too late for that now though," I chuckle.

He grabs my hand, just as I managed to reach the ends of his long hair. I look at him.

My face does not betray me, but his does.

"Do you remember?" he mutters.

I purse my lips, "there is an ache in between my legs. I wished it was you because the moron came inside me."

He releases me and stands. He debates the sincerity of my words. He recounts all the other times I got drunk out of my mind, how he saw the blankness of my eyes when he recounted the activities we did when I was intoxicated.

He measures my current expression against that. He does not know if he wishes it were true or not.

I release a sigh, "do not hold my poor drunken memory against me now, all because you said you would marry me at daybreak."

Daemon clenches his fist, "forget the thought."

I quirk my brows at him.

"I will marry you in the traditions of my house in front of your father, in front of everyone."

I look at him. I look at his violet eyes and blink slowly, "alright."

That's all you could say?

The servant comes back holding the dish he enjoyed. I watch as the food is placed before him, "will you join me now, or would you like me to wait for you to get yourself sorted?"

Daemon feels his pulse quicken. His nostrils flair, "wait for me."

He does not see me nod as he immediately walks off.

When he returns, his entire body tingles at the sound of laughter.

Behold, your brothers have returned.

"Daemon!" I call, waving at him the moment I spot him. I have both my arms flung over the shoulders of my two younger brothers that came after me. The third one that was sitting on the chair I was sat on just a moment.

"Prince Daemon," one of them says.

"Or perhaps we should call him brother."

I roll my eyes, "he is not your brother."

"Well, he will be soon enough."

I shake my head as I watch Daemon come close, "come now. Your food is getting cold."

Daemon is acutely aware of the unintentional alienation he is put into. The brothers coddle their eldest and recount every detail of their trip without a pause, sparing nothing out of it.

He looks at his food and watches a fly that land on it.

Daemon would join this family, much sooner than he expected, and yet, he was no different to the fly on his food.

I catch his distraught expression and find myself smiling.

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[moonffe]

salvatore ✰ ethan landry pt3

warnings: kidnapping, romeo and juliet effect, same as indicated on first part.

word count: 8k

a/n: GUYS, GUYS, GUYS, GUYS, GUYS. i was planning on keeping this fic short and write 3-4 parts, but im coming up with so many ideas it would be just plain evil not to write them. what do y'all think? i deeply apologize for not updating earlier this month, i really didn't feel like writing and i think that is one of the reasons i'm not a big fan of this part. it was made with love, though.

pt1 pt2 pt3

The world around you was a swirling palette of shadows and muted colors, your closed eyelids being directly hit by lighting. Your eyes opened, the transition from comfortable darkness to light making you groan in pain. The throbbing ache on your head didn't allow you to gain consciousness fully, it was killing you. You could hear— feel— no, hear, palpitations. Was that your pulse? Fucking hell. Your vision was blurry. Really fucking blurry, but you somehow managed to focus after a while.

Your perception of time was twisted, you weren't entirely sure of anything. You couldn't tell if it took you seconds or minutes to regain your vision. The haze you were in made you forget you were hit on the head.

You were… hit on the head.

Your eyes widened, your reality sharpening as fast as your deadened nerve endings allowed you. You immediately tried to move your arms, but something around your wrists prohibited your action. You looked down in horror, both of your wrists were tied to the arms of the chair by black ropes. Trying to move your legs let you know your ankles were tied up, too. Your frantic gaze scanned the place. An apartment you didn't recognize.

What happened to Anika? Chad? Were they okay? Ethan, Sam, Tara... You were starting to panic, and you knew that wasn't the smartest choice right now. None of your choices in the last hours had been smart. You wouldn't be here if they had. And then it hit you. Hours? How long were you out for? Days? All the windows were closed by blinds, you didn't know what time it was. You assumed it was intentional.

A dry laugh echoed from behind you— your heart falling to your stomach. You peered over your shoulder, holding back a wince at the pain of stretching your neck. What the hell happened to you? Your whole body was sore. Your eyes snapped wide the second you saw detective Bailey. He got up from his seat on a couch a few feet behind you, looking amused as he rounded the chair to look at your face. You squirmed to be as far as you could from him, showing him a threatening look. “Stay the fuck back.”

He shrugged, holding his hands behind his back. “Oh, no, I'm just looking. I thought you would be out longer.”

Something didn't sit right with you. He looked amused, sure, and the nonchalant grin on his face was freaking you out, but it didn't seem like he had a special interest in you. You looked at his arm. Nothing. There wasn't any bandaging around the wound. No, you stabbed him, there should be a—

“Ethan! Your girlfriend's up!” His words made any kind of emotion plastered on your face drain out.

No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. No. Maybe you didn't hear correctly, maybe you were still unconscious, maybe it was just a nightmare. A nightmare you had before, a nightmare so terrifying your brain forced into your unconscious mind to make you wake up.

As you stared at him, clinging to the very last ounce of sanity in you to not start crying, you felt your chest burn and contract painfully at his laughter. “Oh, please don't tell me you bought everything he told you! I thought you were smarter than that, Y/N.”

“This isn't real…”

“Aw. That's cute.” He smiled, his neck craning to look over his shoulder, and you were scared to check what it was. Who it was. “Good timing.”

If your legs were already numb, you stopped feeling them altogether. Your heart skipped a beat and you slowly became aware of your shallow breaths. It was the only thing you could hear stomping in your ears when you spotted the bandaging around your boyfriend's bicep. When all the lies he told you came crashing down, and you were finally able to see the world as it truly was.

Ethan was Ghostface. The boy you loved was Ghostface.

You were cold, you started shaking. Ethan's pink lips curved up into a smile. Not the smile you knew and made your heart flutter, a crazed smile you were unable to claim as his. But you didn't know him. Not anymore, not ever. You weren't able to take your eyes away from him and the way his diverted doe eyes stared at Bailey, his partner.

“Well…” Bailey cleared his throat, taking a step back. “I'll leave you two alone. Good luck, son.”

Son. Good luck, son. You watched Bailey's back disappear into a hallway before shifting your eyes to Ethan. The thought of being alone with him made you feel like crying, but you couldn't give in to the impulse before he turned his head towards you for the first time, his brown curls jumping gently. You warned him to stay away with a glare, but he didn't listen. He kneeled down in front of you attentively, almost as if not to scare you, and the image was funny. You already knew it was him. Why was it surprising to know he was the Ghostface at the apartment, too? You were being stupid.

But then again, that explained the connection you felt with him. That explained why you felt calm, or why deep down, his fingers felt nice against your cheek.

"I'm sorry about corrupting you, love. But if this is what I had to do to make sure no one would take advantage of you again?” His eyebrows knitted together, voice hoarse. “Then I'm glad I did it. Stay with me and it'll be better than it ever was before. I'll make damn sure of it." You flinched when you felt the touch of his fingertips on your calf, his hand going up and down slowly, trying to solace you through his touch.

His seriousness almost made it seem like there was still a shred of sanity in him. Almost. Your head was spinning, you didn't understand a single word of what he just said. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You're a pathological people pleaser, Y/N. You care about everyone's sake but yours. You're always there for everyone but never for yourself. Don't you get it? That's why I'm doing this. I'm gonna take care of your shitty friends and anyone who gets between you and your happiness. I can't have people stepping on you like that— not anymore.” He shook his head, determination in his voice.

“So you're doing this because—”

“Because I heard your pleas.” He murmured. “You're not alone— you don't have to put up with all the shit the world gives you. I'm your protector now, sweet thing. I've always been.”

You felt like you couldn't do it. You couldn't think. All these months you thought you were with a sweet, understanding boy. But in reality you were dating an obsessed sick fuck that only used you to get to Sam. Why else would he be your roommate, then? What the fuck was even his motive? You jerked your leg away from his touch, hoping it would help you muddle through your anger. It didn't.

He lowered his hand, gazing at your face intently. "I never meant to hurt you, Y/N— It wasn't my choice to drag you into this, and I'm sorry I couldn't stop some things from happening. Just think about it. If you hadn't left that apartment injured, Sam and the others would've thought you had something to do with the killer. I didn't want to put you through that, there was a lot in your mind already.” He apologized, in a tone so soft that it was a contrast to his deep voice.

You wished you could've said he didn't know you— but he did. Better than anyone.

“So, you decided to… what? Protect me by making me land on glass, giving me a 2-inch cut on my arm, bruised ribs, and killing my friends?” Your trembling eyebrows raised, and once he heard your words, he stiffened, offended.

“They're not your friends.”

Fuck it. Fuck everything, fuck him. You couldn't hold back anymore, your eyes burning as tears started rolling down your cheeks. You were just stumbling with your own words at that point. “Yes, they are. I don't know if you've noticed it before, but I'm a grown woman and I can pick my own fucking social circle, Ethan.”

You noticed the muscles on his jaw move as he clenched it, yet he was still speaking slowly and in a low tone to make you understand. “I never said you couldn't, I'm just trying to give anyone who hurt you what they deserve.”

“They didn't hurt me!”

“Then why were they depressing you so much!?” He finally raised his voice. You sucked in a breath, you couldn't look at him. “You think it was easy? Seeing you cry? Hugging you and not being able to do anything about it!? This is me making it up to you. This is me doing what I've always wanted to do and finally gutting them. For you.”

You shook your head. You didn't care if there was logic in his words, you couldn't take it. “ I'm just an infatuation, you don't love me.” You stated, more to yourself than to him. Your voice came out weaker than you intended to. You felt pathetic, stupid, betrayed.

He gaped at you. “Sweetheart, please. Yes, I do. You're the only thing I cafe about. The only thing in my life that's worth a damn.”

“Then why are you trying to kill the people I love?” You frowned. “If it wasn't for them, I don't know if I'd be here, Ethan. I don't know if we'd ever met; they saved me.”

“And I will forever be grateful for that, but you don't need them anymore. They're not good for you.” His voice quavered, and you saw him swallow hard. “This is the only way I know to prove to you that I care. Please let me do this for you.”

You tried to talk, but it was like your vocal cords weren't there. You weren't aware of the frown between your eyebrows until your gaze softened and you felt the pain of tensing your muscles. For just one second, you saw your boyfriend in him. He looked like a damaged, broken version of him. One that didn't break eye contact because otherwise, he would be giving you time to start hating him, and that would be his last straw. Because he did everything he could to get you safe, and in his fucked up mind, this was the ultimate demonstration of love.

He looked so beautiful, sin was tempting. But you had to fight the butterflies and convince yourself it was nausea. “I have to admit— you're hell of an actor.” You cleared your throat to steady your shaky voice. “Where's Chad?”

“With Tara, alive.” He answered softly. The weight on your shoulders lifted knowing he was alright. “Chad found Anika and took her with Mindy and the others. Anika told them what happened, and now they think you're dead.”

You had to pause, shocked at the revelation, but quickly recovered for your sake. “Wait— if you didn't kill them when you had the chance, when are you planning to—?”

“The theater. It's a trap.” He confessed. You stared at the wall behind him for two exact seconds before meeting his eyes. There was an almost pleading look in them that made your breathing falter. You were trying to gather the courage to speak up your mind, but a door shutting closed cut you off. You looked to the side, feeling like you had momentarily forgotten how to breathe. Oh. Oh.

“You're…”

“Still breathing.” Quinn simpered. You pressed yourself against the backrest as she sauntered to the two of you, looking between her face and your ex’s for any resemblance. Is she—? No. They didn't even look alike— But you had to reconsider when Ethan straightened his back, rising from the floor to facilitate Quinn's movement of hugging him with one arm. He wrapped an arm around her, too. The knife impaled in your heart twisted at the sight of your friend. “Did he tell you the story yet?”

“What story?” You asked, your watery eyes searching Ethan for answers. You felt pathetic, utterly pathetic. He was still the first person you looked for comfort in. Ethan Landry was synonymous with home for you. Was. What makes a house a home was trust, and that was the only thing you didn't feel towards him currently.

“I have a lot to tell you, don't I?” His tone dripped with both sorrow and sweetness, it was confusing. In the way he looked at you, there was an ounce of the Ethan you knew. The way his eyes gleamed when you could see your reflection on them. Only this time, you weren't sure it was love making them sparkle. For a heartless man, he sure felt a lot for you.

They told you. Everything. From Richie, to how the three of them pulled off changing their last names and, in their dad's instance, transferring to the NYPD. How they killed their own mother… and Ethan's story finally made sense. You didn't like being alone. Maybe that's why you allowed everyone to step on you. You didn't want to lose them by having common boundaries, because that would mean you would be lonely, and would have to deal with yourself and your own thoughts.

And, well, it wasn't the most pleasant place you could think of.

Ethan concluded that waaay before you. Why? Because he was an emotionally neglected, insecure child— and knew the feeling. Sometimes you thought he hated loneliness as much as you did, and you were right. That explained why he was so clingy all the time. He told you he had some issues with his dad— something about him always preferring his younger sister or something like that. He didn't get into much detail, and that used to be fine to you. He wasn't the best with words, or with emotions.

It was hard for him to open up, even to you, but when he did, you were always there to listen and give advice for his situation... considering the minimal details he gave you. Richie. Richie was that sibling. That was his motive. Revenge. He was searching for revenge and found you. He made a deal with his family. To not hurt you. And that's when you cottoned on to the severe savior complex Ethan Kirsch suffered from. You were his trophy. The unsullied, sweet girl he was in love with and was trying so hard to hide from the world to stop her from getting hurt and endure the things he did.

He didn't kidnap you; he kept you there to prevent putting you through more attacks and unnecessary injuries until they killed Sam and the others. They wanted Sam. It was clear from the start that she was the target, but knowing the reason behind it all was sickening. You weren't feeling alright. At least now you had the freedom to use your hands and rub the piece of fabric covering your chest. Pieces of your broken heart must've fallen to your lungs and pierced them, because you couldn't breathe. You let out a dry chuckle, since you didn't know what else to do.

“Was your mom a red-head or is that out of a box?” You snarked, your muscles aching from your forced smile. You knew it was real, but you were still waiting for the moment they would tell you it was all a joke.

Something hit you. Out of nowhere. The fight you and Ethan had over Richie, his fingers running over your scar. You gave the brunet a puzzled look, and he reciprocated with just as much inquisitiveness. He didn't sound so loving and protective of his brother during that argument. Why?

“Are you guys communicating telepathically or something? I wanna join, too.” Quinn made you snap out of it. She pointed at you with the handle of her combat knife, she was still in her Ghostface cloak after attacking Gale. Gale. “And I'm not giving you your phone back just for that.” Huh?

“You have my phone?”

“We have all your stuff. You forgot your backpack in the bathroom, so I went to get it.” Ethan informed you, his baby blue shirt wrinkling when he stepped forward, closer to you. You sucked in a breath and shut your eyes when his cold knuckles grazed your forehead, checking your temperature. His brow furrowed. “Do you need your pills? Ice? You're burning hot.” He looked into your eyes, you gave him a sardonic nod.

“Yeah, well— you hit me on the head, Eth. I think it's completely normal that I'm lightheaded.”

He groaned, his hand creeping up to your head to rub your hair. “Be back in a sec.” You didn't get a say before he leaned over you and kissed the top of your head. You allowed it. You barely had any fight in you. Your eyes drifted towards Quinn when you stopped feeling Ethan's body heat, she was giving the two of you a look.

Maybe you were too tired, maybe seeing Ethan walking away from you was your breaking point. But after Quinn glanced at his brother leaving and back at you, everything drowned out.

You didn't know where you were. It took you a second to remember everything, a second for the pain of your chest to come back. It might have been anxiety, or your broken heart. Perhaps you were rending at the end of your relationship internally. On the outside, you were trying to not go back to it.

“Y/N!” You tensed up upon hearing Ethan's voice. He was sitting on a chair in the corner of the room, staring at you with worried eyes. “Are you okay?” He hastened towards the bed, flopping down on the edge of it. You weren't even fully awake yet, but he was too busy reaching for something on the nightstand to notice. “You were out for two hours, you scared me.” He pressed a cold pack into your forehead without short notice, and that's when you noticed the bowl of ice that was keeping it cold. Jesus Christ. “Here. How's your head?”

“Fuck, don't bombard me with words like that.” You pushed his hand away, opting to hold the cold pack to your forehead yourself. You didn't know how to feel about everything that just happened. You didn't think it was your head or any injury; it was your emotions manifesting. “Two hours?”

“I think.” He wiped the water dripping from your forehead to your temples with the sleeve of the shirt he now wore, shaking his head. “Give or take.” He wasn't gazing into your eyes. Was he really that worried?

You groaned and retreated your spread out legs to your chest, rolling over to get off the bed. His eyes followed you while you ambled— it was getting annoying. “I'm fine, Ethan, just dizzy. Stop looking at me like I'm on my deathbed.”

He shot you an unimpressed glance, and you rolled your eyes. You stood in the middle of the room, curiously surveying around. There wasn't any stuff besides the bed you woke up on and basic furniture, so you assumed it was meant for you. “Is this supposed to be my room?”

“While you're staying here, yeah.” He positioned himself beside you, arms crossed in front of his chest. “I couldn't get stuff out of our dorm for obvious reasons, but if you need something, tell me.”

You avoided eye contact, faking dementia and stepping back, away from him. Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. “How thoughtful.”

Something on the floor caught your eye after a few seconds of wandering around. It was close to the chair Ethan was sitting on. You frowned, nudging it with your foot. “Is this yours?” You picked up the teddy bear and handed it to him, regretting it immediately when his hesitant fingers skimmed yours. Shit.

There was hardly two seconds of silence before he shook his head dismissively. “Yeah, it's mine.”

“Didn't know you still had plushies.”

“It's from when I was little.”

“Well, what's it doing here?”

“It was Richie's. He used to play with it all the time before he randomly forgot about it one day. I stole it once, when I was nine, just to know for a fact if he didn't care— and he never noticed. So I kept it.” You could literally hear the emotion in his voice, but he catched on the way you were looking at him and raised an eyebrow, playing it off. “It's a long story. Quinn makes a big deal out of it, so I brought it here for her.”

“If it means that much to you guys, you shouldn't leave it on the floor.”

He was probably toying with it while you were unconscious, and just sent it flying when you opened your eyes. That is why you and Ethan were a tragedy waiting to happen. He loved Richie— and that was all the explanation needed. He knew his brother almost killed you, and he was still willing to go through all the trouble to get revenge for his well-deserved death.

You sighed. Fuck it. “And get me something warm, please. I'm freezing.”

He gave you a concerned look, nodding quickly and leaving the room. You looked around for any windows, but it wasn't a good time to escape. You didn't even know if there was a way to do it, but you didn't want to leave. Not yet. You wanted to understand the whole story. Curiosity or masochism? Hard to answer.

You slid the gray hoodie over your head, quietly thanking him after leaving the cold pack back inside the bowl. As you patted the spot next to you, his face contorted with conflict. “You want me to lay down?”

You rolled your eyes, as if he hadn't done that a hundred times before. “Yeah, with me.”

Ethan stared down at you, mystified, but finally agreed. He got on the bed with you and laid on his side, a small, barely noticeable frown between his brown, bushy eyebrows. You'd spent more hours of your life dissecting him than looking at yourself in the mirror. You saw the little things, and you wished you didn't, because in that aspect, it was Ethan. It was your Ethan. It was so hard to love and hate the eyes staring at you. So difficult to want to touch him but also want to rip his face apart.

“Ethan Kirsch.” You spoke, as if to sample the name.

“Did you like Landry better?”

“Considering your brother stabbed me and I barely made it alive— yeah, I do.”

He gawked at you, taken aback by how nonchalant you were talking about how you almost died. “I'm not letting you die, Y/N. I'm not my brother.”

“But you sure want to get revenge for him.”

“No, we're not doing it.”

“What?”

“I'm not doing it.”

“You're not—”

He shushed you with his hand, tightness around his eyes. “I'm not going to kill anyone you don't want me to— They're your friends, I need to respect that.” He looked dead serious. You pushed his hand away, jaw going slack.

“No, you have a plan with your family. You want to kill Sam—”

“Richie almost killed you.” He huffed, interrupting you yet again. “I'm not avenging him after that, not after what he made you live. I'm gonna turn on my dad, then we can run away anywhere you want.”

Run away. He wanted you to run away with him.

“Are you joking?” You didn't know if you should laugh, cry, hug him, or search his pockets for the knife he used and unalive yourself.

“I wouldn't joke about something like that, you know this.” He lightly shook his head, and you immediately hopped off the bed. You stumbled with your own feet, your back pressing against a wall for support.

“Ethan, what the actual fuck.” You reasoned. He tried to follow after you with a sour look on his face, but you stretched out your arms to keep him away. He stepped back, swallowing. You could tell his breathing was heavy again by the way his chest moved. You looked down at his hands. Shaking and clammy. You shouldn't feel compassion for a serial killer, you really shouldn't.

“It's alright if you don't want to finish what I started, Y/N. I just want you to be happy, i couldn't care less if i'ts with or without me. I'm not dragging you into something you don't want or stopping you from doing anything. If you don't want to run away with me, I'll put you on the next bus to Woodsboro. You can go back to your parents and get as far as you can from this damned city.”

Your eyebrows almost touched as you thought about it, slowly letting your arms fall to your sides. Ethan stared at you, his brown eyes scanning your face for any form of signal that indicated you didn't want him anymore. He didn't dare to get closer to you now. “And what's going to happen to you?” You asked, voice tight.

At his silence, you knew the answer. Death. That is what would happen. If you left New York, that would be the last time you'd see Ethan alive. “I'd leave with Quinn.” He replied.

Bullshit.

“He's your father.” You reminded him, testing out his loyalty to the plan.

“A father doesn't put you through what he has, sweetheart.” He rasped. “He loves Richie, not me. And I've come to terms with that. I talked to Quinn about it already. We're gonna kill him.”

Kill him. They were going to kill their own dad. “Kill him.” You nodded to yourself, taking in his words.

“And then we flee this dump.” There was a pause of silence and uninterrupted eye contact before his jaw tensed, answering the question you were meaning to ask. “I don't know where we're going, but when i do i think it would be for the best if i didn't tell you.”

Death, or never see him again. Those were the only two paths once you told him you weren't going to stick with the plan he created for the two of you.

You knew you couldn't trust anyone. You broke the rules and now you were fucked, your mind was fucked. How did you know this? You would plump for dying in his arms than leaving him and recover any day. That was the issue. Without him, you wouldn't recover. Ethan Kirsch carried a part of you, and you feared it was your heart. If he took your mind, you would be able to keep going. Live a life making mistakes over and over again, but from mistakes you can learn.

From emptiness, you can't. And that is what awaited you if your heart was bleeding and twitching in his hand. Maybe he was your heart. He was so important he replaced your most vital organ. Without your heart, you would die. And you weren't against it, if it meant hugging yourself instead of him for the rest of your days. Even after knowing the truth, you almost leaned into him. You didn't fully hate him, and that was messing with your morals, with your head. You didn't want to need him. But lately, it felt like he was your protector somehow. Ethan Kirsch was a comforting, reliable thing. One that you couldn't live without.

It took you a long time to get to that conclusion.

You weren't able to tell when exactly the pillows surrounding you to assimilate human warmth became human. Midnight, maybe, after Ethan discussed the plan with you, fed you, waited for you to come out of the shower and left you to take a nap. You felt his arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you close.

“Are you up?” He whispered.

“Do you want me to be?”

You let out a breath when his forehead pressed against the back of your neck, your back arching at his body temperature. He sighed, and you were almost positive his brow was furrowed. You tried to turn around to look at his face, but he grasped a portion of your hoodie to prevent you from moving. “I'm sorry… I'm— I'm so sorry.”

“Don't apologize, Eth…” You stretched your arm, but the tips of your fingers only managed to brush the top of his curls. “We went through this already. I told you to stop apologizing.”

“I haven't said it enough.” He mumbled, and you felt the back of your neck dampen. He was crying. He hated when you saw him crying. “I don't think it'll ever be enough.” His voice cracked, and so did a part of you at seeing him like this.

“Let me look at you.” You enjoined, tossing to get a look of his face. It took him a second, but he finally retracted his body so you could face him. He was breathing fitfully, and his lips trembled with vulnerability. He looked so fragile you just wanted to hug him, but feared you would break him even more.

“Listen. I'm still confused and most likely not in my right mind, but…” You paused. “I don't care about what you did, Ethan. You're still you, and I love you.” You finally admitted, your words carrying so much weight on what could be defined as your future, a knot formed in your throat. Maybe it was the aftermath of a love confession, or his crying made you cry, too.

His eyes widened, and he started shaking his head condemningly. “No. Just… go to sleep, Y/N. We'll talk about this some other time—You're not in your right headspace and I don't want you to say something you'll later regret.” He hushed, the anguish clear on his frown. He propped himself on his elbows, and at your desperation to make him stay he kissed your forehead. “I'll see you in the morning.”

“Eth, wait. Please.”

He left, but you didn't have enough strength to chase after him. Why was he keeping you here, then, to break you until you were unable to get on your feet again? But you had the impression it was the other way around. You were the one doing that to him, and you didn't know why. Why would he come to your room to talk and just leave like that? Maybe your words scared him. You almost chuckled at your own thoughts. Ironic.

It's almost as if only looking at you pained him. Really pained him, and you didn't know how to stop it.

You didn't know how to help him.

You catched him looking at you during breakfast. He had always been the type to wake up before anyone else, since he was a nerd in school and always wanted to make it in time for class. It was so early not even Bailey or Quinn were up yet. You were really hungry, so Ethan had to keep an eye on you to make sure you wouldn't escape. They told you they were taking turns to watch you in case you tried something, but your ex-boyfriend seemed to be the only one who wanted to do it, and did it.

You eyed him angrily, but he lowered his face before you could turn your face entirely. You bit your tongue to keep the things that wanted to come out of your mouth right where they belonged, but it was getting harder every minute. The theater trap was today, and then everything would end. Ethan would end. You knew Sam. He was going to die if he went to that theater, and you had to stop it. It didn't matter if he didn't directly attacked her, Ethan fucked with her family, and she was going to make him pay. What worried you? You were sure he could fist fight her, but he wasn't going to. It was you, or nothing.

Looking down at your plate, you realized you weren't even hungry anymore. You dropped your fork, the impact catching Ethan's attention. His doe eyes bemusedly watching you made you feel butterfly wings mixed with nausea, but it was a feeling you grew up to like. To love and to crave.

At the end of the day, the two of you were similar. It was him, or nothing.

"I'm sorry." You said, tapping your foot under the table. "I'm sorry I was a bad girlfriend.”

"You weren't.” His face scrunched up. “You're all I wanted, Y/N. The single thing that made me feel human in a family who didn't have a soul— so don't say that.”

“That's how you felt, but I'm talking about everything I put you through. Tell me one good thing about our relationship.”

“You were always there when I needed you.” His voice was so full of conviction, free of doubts or insecurity that it opened a new wound in you.

"But how about when you didn't?” You raised an eyebrow. He tilted his head with a frown, as if ready to hear the stupidest words. “Sure, if you started crying or got any of those nightmares about your brother dying, I would walk to your dorm at 2AM and hug you until you could sleep again. But how about when you didn't need me, Ethan? I wasn't there for you, and even if you didn't need me by your side, I should've been. I feel guilty, and I'm angry at myself because I never appreciated you. Because you're right— I always put others before me but never the right person. You were the right person, Ethan. You still are. I don't give a fuck about your past. I wouldn't care if you told me you've killed more people than I know about because it's still you. You haven't changed, and I did. Enough for me to love you properly, more than I have these last months.”

He tried to say something, but you put your hand up to shut him up. “I fucking suck as a person and I'm a selfish, unconsidered bitch.”

"No, you're not." Your attempts to show him how imperfect you were only narked him, and you wondered if he really had you on a high pedestal as a sinless, uncorrupted, sweet person or he had such a bad relationship with himself he would call everything and everyone superior to him. You could relate to that feeling.

"I don't know to what level this whole savior complex is messing with your head— but you're wrong. It was my fault. Most of the flaws of our relationship, and I'm sorry."

This seemed to piss him off even more. "No, no, no, no, no, no. First of all, I don't have a savior complex, and second of all—"

You cut him off. With your lips. Your fingers touching and playing with his hair softly. You were anxious about his ending, but if there's one thing you knew, is that you could rewrite it. His trembling arms hesitantly wrapped around you, squeezing your middle hard enough to provide support. He picked you up and place you on his lap, and that just confirmed it. He played unfairly to get you there, secluded from your friends and alone with him, because he knew the only thing that wouldn't hurt you in the world was himself. And that, apparently, was his goal. Keep you safe regardless of what the consequences would be.

So, who said you couldn't do the same to him, talk him out of the plan he had for you? He held you harder, as if scared to lose you. He felt like home, and you came to realize that's exactly how you felt to him, too. Because at the end of the day, we're all fucked up in different levels. Was your level so different from his, after all? If it wasn't because Quinn walked in on the two of you, you weren't sure of what would've happened. You hoped that not much, but the way Ethan's shirt was pulled up to reveal his abdomen said otherwise. You watched him wipe his lips, realizing you probably should, too.

"So... you guys are back together." Quinn nodded thoughtfully as she walked to the fridge, unfazed.

You beckoned at an addled Ethan over and over again, telling him to fix his shirt but immediately stopping once the ginger turned around, holding a yogurt cup. "Looks like it." You forced a smile. Her eyebrows raised. "Morning, Quinn." You walked over to her and pulled her in for a hug, her arms lifting.

“Morning— Y/N.” She spoke, confused. She patted your upper back a few times to tell you it was enough, and you listened, withdrawing your body from hers. Damn.

She looked behind you and at her brother, eyebrows going downwards. “Did you drug her or something?”

“She just hasn't eaten yet.” You strided towards him, his arms snaking around you to sit you on his lap right after you slapped his arm. “You should finish that.” He kissed the side of your neck, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I'm not hungry anymore, help me.” You stretched out your arm to get your fork from your plate, but Ethan shook his head with a tinge of disgust on his face.

“I already ate.”

“I thought you just woke up.” You flung the fork down, again. “When?”

“I've been up for a few hours.” He confessed. At your raised eyebrow, he added softly. “Don't worry about it.”

“That's what you always say when I should worry. Are you sleep deprived or something?” You rubbed his back with care, and you could swear you heard him whimper with your touch. He nestled his head against the back of your shoulder, eyes fluttering closed.

“Just had a lot on my mind. Didn't see the point in sleeping.”

“Ew.” You would've forgotten Quinn was there if it wasn't for that. She looked between the two of you, snatching a spoon from a cabinet and pushing it close with her hip. “Have fun, kids…”

Huh. Funny. You waited until she left, then turned your head to make eye contact with Ethan. “Does Quinn like me?” You gave him a look, and his features softened in understanding. We have a plan, why is he acting like this?

“She doesn't dislike you— she's just not used to the idea of you joining us.” He took a deep breath, some wrinkles appearing on his forehead. “She wants to do this as a family, and she doesn't consider you that yet.”

“Get it, tiger. You're gonna scare her away at this rate.” Bailey deadpanned. When did he come out of his room, and how did you not hear him? Ethan eyed him briefly, his face burying itself into you

“Morning, Mr. Kirsch.”

He grabbed a book from the coffee table and started heading back to the hallway, where you would lose him out of sight. “Wayne.” He corrected you.

“Wayne.”

He gave you a thumbs up and it was a matter of seconds until you heard a door slam. “Your dad's really caring, isn't he?”

“He does what he can.” You raised your eyebrows, and he shook his head to let you know he was cool talking about it. “Richie's death was a low blow in his life.”

“Doesn't give him the right to be an asshole.”

He sighed, kissing your shoulder with a choleric tone in his voice. “I know.”

You stared at him in concern, tightening your grip on his neck. “Don't worry about it. Everything's gonna turn out for the best, okay?” You replied, and he added with a huff, “It should be me telling you that.”

You stayed on his lap and finished your eggs as he instructed, until you felt his legs shift slightly beneath you. You weren't sure if that was his way of giving you a signal or he was just trying to get more comfortable, but you still got off.

“Are you going somewhere?” His lost puppy dog eyes made you smile, you would've drowned in basorexia if you hadn't kissed his tepid forehead. Ethan grunted and quickly held you in his arms, yanking your body to press it against his. Fuck.

“No, I just don't want to sit on you for too long and hurt you.”

“Then you should do something to stop looking this pretty in the morning.” He murmured into your neck. “It pains me.”

“That is the corniest shit you've ever said to me.” He snorted at your words, damping his lips as he stared up at you. “You know what pains me? The fact that you left me last night.”

“That is untrue information taken out of context.”

“Shut up.” Your fingers went between locks of his soft curls to pull him towards you, your lips pressing against his and his arms holding you tighter. Hours. Hours before he would have to leave for act III. You couldn't lose him— you wouldn't survive. If he died, you died.

In-between kisses, you warned him, “You're gonna get yourself killed, Ethan.” He let out a small, distracted hum in response, staying quiet for a moment before he detached his lips from yours, the hand resting on your upper back lowering and trailing down your spine.

“I'm not suicidal, Y/N.”

“I never said you were.”

His eyebrows knitted, and you wished you hadn't said anything. “Then why are you implying that?”

“Because you didn't want to accept the fact that I forgave you.” You swallowed, not knowing what the right words were. “I don't want you to change your mind in the middle of everything, start with your “I don't deserve you” bullshit and let yourself get killed. You're not suicidal, but you do want the best for me and you don't think that's you.”

Ethan growled quietly, holding your face in his hands. “I may not be the best for you, but I want your happiness. And if I'm the only thing that makes you happy, then I'll stay. For whatever time you decide. As long as you want me, I'll be there.”

“I want you, E.”

He nodded and gently pulled you closer, his eyes gazing into yours in a way that felt almost invasive, but good. “You can't want something you already have.”

The two of you spent the rest of the day together, until the clock striked 11PM and you found yourself locked inside your room, by your own, and reading some books Ethan got for you. There was this suffocating weight on your chest telling you something bad was about to happen, but you tried to ignore as best as you could. Maybe that's why you were acting so friendly with Quinn when she knocked on your door to let you know she was back. Your first reaction was to think she got to the apartment first. Wrong. Ethan was in a fucking train on his way to the theater, without you.

So you didn't have much choice.

"You know..." Quinn mumbled solemnly, her hands fixing the hood of your cloak. You were sure she felt your eyes whip towards hers, but she still didn't look up, engrossed in her task. "We should have spent more time together before all of this happened."

"What?"

"It could've been more entertaining. With you staying with us and everything." She shrugged, your brow lowered.

"We are friends, Quinn."

"Yeah, but we weren't that close. Ethan had a lot of explaining to do, I didn't."

You got her point, but you weren't sure if you could've taken two major betrayals and kept your sanity intact. You were somewhat glad you and Quinn weren't that close. Sure, she was your friend, but it wasn't the same relationship you had with Tara or Mindy.

"We can be friends now, you know? It's not the end of everything. If anything, it's a fresh start.” But it wouldn't be if she didn't hurry the fuck up so the two of you could leave. You weren't supposed to be in the theater. The plan was to kill Wayne, go back to the apartment, and take a flight. But he didn't call you. Why didn't he call you? You weren't gonna ditch him just like that. He belonged to you. He was yours to take care of, yours to keep alive.

"After we kill Sam..." She showed you the mask with a smile, twirling it. "We can.”

You didn't get the chance to frown at her words before the door of Quinn's room opened, showing her father. Right. You forgot he was still there with the two of you.

“You girls ready? We should've left five minutes ago.”

“In a minute, dad.” Quinn waved him off, your fingers grazing hers after you swallowed your doubts and grabbed the mask. You wanted to calm down, but noticing how old the fucking thing looked freaked you out even more. You looked at Quinn.

"Stu's?"

"Billy's." Fuck. "What?" She squeaked, noticing the way your expression changed. "You take it off, give it to Sam, and we continue with the plan. It's really not that hard, Y/N. We'll be there with you.”

You eyed Wayne, wondering if he was included when she said ‘we’. “Alright. Let's go.”

You couldn't breathe. You literally could not breathe. How the fuck did Ghostfaces kill people inside this shit? You had been hiding inside a random mop closet Quinn found for the past hour, since you weren't authorized to attack anyone until after the reveal. Did someone dictate you the rules? No, but you were too much of a pussy to attack your friends even if it was to keep up the act, so you just hid there. You spotted Ethan's back as you ambled to where everything was taking place, Sam being the first one to notice the fourth Ghostface approaching their partners. “You brought your whole family with you?” She swallowed harshly, holding the brick in her hand even harder. “Your wife, I assume?”

Ethan's eyes filled with horror after he turned and saw you. He immediately wrested away from the arm around his shoulders, but Bailey replaced it in front of his chest and pulled him back. You boyfriend scrutinized you, stunned, as you stopped in your tracks next to him, seemingly unable to react. Quinn showed your friends a sly smirk after you pulled your mask up, signaling towards Ethan. “His, actually.”

“Y/N…” Your best friend's mouth went agape, Sam's eyes wide with shock.

“You?” Your elder sister looked you up and down, immediately glaring at Ethan with ferocity. “Was it him!? Did he—”

“Sam.” Your knife silenced her as it aimed in her direction. You reached out, grabbing Ethan's hand and pulling him forward to create distance from Bailey. Your blade changed directions, now pointing at Ethan's dad. Your boyfriend copied your action, clenching his jaw as he slid a protective hand to your wrist and gripped it tightly.

“What are you—” You stopped Sam from speaking with just a look. I'll tell you later. She watched you for full 3 seconds before nodding. She trusted you. You and Ethan stood between Sam and Tara as each of them held onto a brick— Where the fuck did they find that, anyway?

“You're not supposed to be here.” Ethan retorted lowly, inches away from your ear. Looking up at his hardened features letting you know he was beyond angry.

“I'm sorry.” You lied, taking a deep breath before looking away from his pretty face and calling out the ginger's name. “Quinn?” She glanced at you, stepping back until her shoulder hit yours, eyes on her dad as she breathed loudly through her nose. You stared at her side profile for longer tan you probaly should have— you felt bad for her. Ethan had you, but who did she have besides from her brother?

“What is this?” Bailey— Kirsch— fuck, glowered at the five of you. “You find a girl and leave your family to rot, Ethan? Everything we planned? Everything we built? I thought we had a deal.”

“He's your son, Wayne. A kid. Not a fucking confidant.” You answered before anyone else could. Ethan looked down at you, and you looked up at him. His body rocked back and forth anxiously, but you couldn't tell if it was out of hatred or sadness with the sour, almost depressing look on his face. So you squeezed his arm below the bandage, reminding him that you were there. “It's okay.” You whispered the last part. Your boyfriend's eyes got smaller and he turned to his dad again, gripping your wrist tighter. You wanted to stand up for yourself, but Ethan kept pulling you behind him more and more every passing second.

“What about you, Quinn? What's your excuse? The sister you never had? Come on— there's nothing special about that bitch.” He brandished his gun, staring at you with a dirty look. You were holding back demons trying not to stab him in the fucking neck. You had a weapon, so why hold back at this point? “I don't know what any of you see in her, in all honesty.”

Ethan's lips parted, ready to insult him in five different languages by the death stare he held. He was cut off when Quinn seized the cloth covering your shoulder, yanking you away from his clinch and in front of her body. What the fuck? “Oh, I know.”

A bullet tored into your chest. A. Bullet. Went. Into. Your. Fucking. Chest. You heard more than one scream coming from different people, but the only thing you saw was Ethan rush over to you after your knees betrayed you and you faltered, dropping to the floor. Tears were already welling up in his eyes, chest heaving as he kept repeating your name and pressing down his cold hands on the bleeding wound. You let out a squeal, thanking for the first time in your life his body temperature was inhumanly low and it brought your injury a sense of comfort despite the pain. You thought maybe it wasn't that bad, but the warmth that embraced your body was Ethan's, not yours. Fuck.

“Ethan...”

“Don't go to sleep, Y/N, don't close your eyes! Look at me!” He shrieked, and you stopped feeling the floor underneath you as he picked you up. Your eyes fought to stay open, but you were sure as hell what you saw before Ethan disappeared through the door to the lobby was Sam straddling Quinn as she stabbed her. It was getting harder and harder to stay conscious even with your boyfriend's constant shouting and pleas. One bullet and you were already passing out? Now, that was embarassing. You stabbed Ethan's bicep and he got up like nothing happened.

The only thing that managed to get a reaction out of you and somewhat wake you up was the sound of a gunshot. You glanced up at Ethan's face, examining his pinched mouth and wet cheeks as he hurried somewhere. “What was that…?”

“Don't worry about it, baby. Sam and Tara are taking care of them, okay? I'll get you to a hospital so they can treat that. Just keep your eyes open for me.” He pressed his forehead to yours, his explanations coming quickly and his sweat moistening your skin. Your trembling hand crept up from his warm chest to his shoulder, your body giving up on you before you could muster the strength to squeeze his arm.

tags: @hyper-revenge-sio @halucynator @thtweirdointhecornr1917 @cypherpt5fttaehyung @randyssister (tagging everyone who commented on last part)

#ethan landry #ethan landry x fem!reader #jack champion #scream vi #ethan landry x reader #ghostface #ethan landry angst

[oh-its-souichi]

Marry part 4

Sakuna x reader

Im so stoked on the idea I started writing for part 5 I just rushed through this

Warning- same crazy stuff man

You woke up in his soft bed, comfortable warmth surrounding you. In the wives' hall, it was cold, and water leaked through the walls. In Sakunas' room, it was warm, and everything was lush. The only sound was the crackling of the fire. Not the hush of the other women and the scurrying of feet.

You had spent a majority of your time sleeping, the sickness your injuries gave you rocked your body, and it was only recently that your body was able to rejoice. The silence was nice, for awhile but once you spent more time awake you noticed no one came to visit, and sometimes, your maid would bring out food. It wasn't often, though, and you found yourself hungry most of the time.

Your maid told you she was working with someone else now, but things were changing in the temple. She said Sakuna was rarely there, and when he was, he didn't react to their presence. She said it made her feel scared. You nodded and wished you could give her more information, but you knew nothing. You were vaulted away more secluded than before.

You didnt know what day it was at this point or if it was day or night, there was no windows but you felt safer this way. Death didnt seem so close.

Rising from your bed, you stretched your arms and legs, pushing your feet into the plushy carpet. You made your way to the bathroom and ran the warm water. You only had a few pairs of clothes, so you chose to lounge around in a long satin robe. It was black and extremely comfortable. You stripped it off and slipped into the water, feeling goosebumps errupt all over your skin when the hot water soaked it. You sunk up to your ears and closed your eyes thinking about falling back asleep. The hot steam on your face and the lull of the fireplace beckoned you, you were tempted as there was nothing else to do. Your mind wandered from your maid, to your father and then to the injuries you had obtained from the wife in red. You found yourself replaying certain incidents and no matter how hard you tried to stray away, everything ended back at him. Sakuna.

Suddenly, a foreign sensation came over your body, like fingers dancing acrossed your skin. You eyes flew open, and the first thing you saw was teeth, they were formed into a wicked smile. You followed them down to his chin, then his neck to his body. You saw two of his arms plunged into the water. His hands grabbing at your body. "My wife" he purred. You stared up at him keeping half of your face submerged in the water. A shield of sorts. "Ive never seen you like this" he said, his voice was shockingly human sounding and deep like a drum. You sat under the pressure of his gaze not sure what to do. He mapped one of his hands up your stomach and to hand picking it up and bringing it out of the water. The cold air stung your skin but wuickly subsided when you felt his lips connect to your hand. He kissed it over and over again before bringjng it to the side of his face. He closed his eyes and hummed. "You'll never leave this place. You die and rot down here the rest of time." Your heart thumped at his sing song voice. Your mind wanted to whiz out of sontrol but you stayed numb. "Answer me" he said and you say his red eyes open. You popped your head out of the water "I understand." You said. You furrowed his eyebrows and a pained expression came over his face.

"Are you happy about it"

"Yes"

He was acting different, and it was giving you whiplash.

"Good, no, that you have a choice," he laughed, but you heard the danger in his voice, and it made the world around you feel less and less real. His eyes lapped over you hungrier and hungrier until you felt the first of his left arm slide around your back and rip you up out of the water. He pressed his lips to yours, and you felt like he was eating you alive. You tried to kiss him back, but the ferocity overwhelmed you. He pulled you closer and closer. So close, it hurt. His crushing strength made your bones ache. Your breath locked itself in your chest. You groaned in pain, but that seemed to encourage him as you felt his arms loop underneath your body and lift you out of the bath. The cold air made you gasp. He kept his lips to yours, and you felt him smile. "dont worry, you won't be cold for long," he whispered. He walked you out into the bedroom and gently laid you down on the bed. Your heart picked up as he stared down at you. He started to disrobe, and every part of you rejected it. You weren't ready for what you knew he wanted to do. Your voice ached to protest, but nothing came out. His robe dropped to the ground, and your eyes widened at his hulking form. He was all muscle and weapon of a man, curse, a whatever he was. He came forward his hand wrapping itself around your neck. He squeezed lightly but started to tighten his grip. Frightened, your hands flew up and grabbed onto his wrists. You dug your nails into his skin, and he hissed in reply.

"You dare hurt your husband?" He said, his voice deadly. You looked down at him and locked your eyes to his. At first, you only saw rage, but that melted away into sorrow. "Perhaps I've been too rough." He sighed. Slowly, he leaned forward and wrapped all of his arms around you. His weight made your chest lock up, and once again, you were fighting to breathe. You didn't dare speak, though. The fear of the tides turning with any word you said kept your mouth shut. "Things are different now," he muttered. Your heart slammed in your chest, a fear like you felt the day he killed his other wives clawed up your throat. "Why are thing different now" he rushed popping his head up and gripping onto your shoulders. He stared you in the eyes with one of the angriest expressions you had ever seen. His eyebrows were knitted together and his eyes sharp. You rationalized quickly with yourself and opene your mouth to speak "it-it-its" you stammered. "Its not, my husband, my love" you said. With each word your confidence built and you reminded yourself of the position you were in. The comfort and seclusion had numbed you of the danger at hand, this game of survival.

His expression relaxed, and you felt like a snake wrapping around its kill. "Im so grateful for what you've given me Ive not had the words to say it." You snaked your arms around his shoulders and brought your fingertips softly up and down his back. His eyes relaxed, and he searched your face.

#sakuna ryomen x reader #jujutsu kaisen sakuna #jjk sakuna #sakuna ryomen #sakuna x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen

[marlboroenjoyer]

let me show you my thanks

so here is part two to 'cat got your tongue' i love miguel and i dunno maybe this was ooc but its my first smut fic with him be gentle. also i tried desperately to get like actually grammatically correct and normal sounding spanish from a bunch of different websites; so i really apologize in advance if it sounds disjointed or weird. im a patehtic monolingual individual :(.

summary [2.9k words] - you took an unannounced break from the spider-society after the fiasco that was your last meeting with miguel. he wants to show you just how thankful he is for you.

warnings - 18+ (if you're a minor and i see you interacting with my stuff you're getting blocked). SHARP TEETH BABY RAAAAHHHHHHHHH, inappropriate use of venom, slight degredation if you squint.. nsfw under the cut!

you were on autopilot for the next few days after your conversation? argument? with miguel. you were home in your own universe; you had shucked the gizmo off your wrist the second your feet landed in your small apartment. you didn’t even want to think about miguel let alone get contacted by the man so you shed your brain of anything involving hq. the days consisted of bouncing between your mattress and your desktop, occasionally fighting whatever enemy decided to break your peace. it was nice to fall back into your once usual routine before your discovery of the spider-society. and it was even nicer to finally have a little peace of mind. not thinking about miguel had made everything a little easier.

you weren't worried about his reactions to anything. you weren't concerned about his hair trigger temper; about whether or not something you said would set him off. there was the smallest licks of anxiety in the back of your mind as the radio silence was unnerving to a degree, you had grown accustomed to hearing lylas cheerful voice break into your mind. it was easy to shake those feelings though; spending the mostly quiet evenings catching up on shows or games you just simply hadn’t had to time for anymore. 

it had been storming all day, and you had found out after talking with other spider-people, that you had gotten quite lucky with your version of new york. the storms never pulled more trouble out of the damp dark cracks of the city, if anything it deterred them. the city life was hushed by the gray gloomy skies spitting fat raindrops at your window. you felt something ping up your spine as you were sitting at your desktop. it wasn’t the same feeling you got when you sensed some form of danger; this surge of nerves was telling you something was off today. before you could even get up from your desk chair, a large orange spiral of energy tore into your dimension; and out popped the looming man you were trying to avoid.

“you took your bracelet off.” there was an edge to his voice; something unknown on the cusp, threatening to fall out and into your lap. you didn’t dignify his statement with a response. you didn’t owe any responses to miguel. so you just stared at him in the silence of your apartment; his vivid eyes searching you for anything; and after a few more moments of silence he decided to continue talking.

“we’ve– i’ve– been trying to contact you.” another long beat. “you had duties to fulfill. you’ve been holed up in your dimension while i thought– lo que sea…”[1] his mouth snapped shut before he finished his sentence, cutting himself off before giving an exasperated sigh. his hands rubbed down his face, before revealing his eyes which were intensely trained on you. your expression gave nothing away, you were just going to stand aside and watch him fight with himself inside his head; or maybe he’d even just give up and leave. part of you hoped for the latter, but you also wanted him to finally be able to figure out how to speak to you.

“listen. i understand you were, shit probably still are, angry about how i reacted.” his words for grating against his clenched teeth and set jaw. clearly this was very difficult. “but i didn’t know how to react to the fact that you were a breath away from meeting death. i had come to terms with death a very long time ago. but i don’t know if i’d be able to get over it, if you died.” you continued to let him speak, watching him as he chewed on the words and mulled them over in his head. 

“you are so fucking annoying sometimes, but you are so lovely and you’re so soft. and i know you can hold you own but you…” you could practically see steam coming from his ears, as the cogs in his brain turned away trying his best to figure out how to express his thoughts. he stopped talking for a moment as he approached you slowly. “tenía tanto miedo que sentí ganas de vomitar.”[2] his voice was a fraction of the volume it once was. his hands gently grabbed yours.

“i’m sorry i was…more or less a dick. you didn’t deserve that, especially after you saved my skin. quería… darte las gracias por salvarme la vida.”[3] his eyes bore into your own. now you were genuinely speechless, and not just holding out due to spite. thankfully your body acted for you, reaching forward and wrapping your arms around miguel’s strong abdomen. you let your head rest against his chest and you waited for his reaction. after a few beats his arms wrapped around your frame. his head ducked down to tuck into the crook of your neck.

you whispered out a thank you, to which you felt a quick puff of air escape miguel’s nose. he couldn’t understand why you were thanking him. you pulled your arms back and over his shoulder, gently grabbing a handful of his dark hair and pulling his head back up to look at you. before he could say anything you lightly placed your lips onto his in a timid kiss. an action so tender and so soft, it managed to shatter miguel's heart and rebuild it anew. it took less than a second for miguel to kiss you back. immediately the atmosphere changed, electricity surging through the both of you as miguel deepened the kiss. his hands skated around your body, kneading the flesh underneath his fingers whenever he paused his ministrations.

your hands were still occupied with fists fulls of his hair, and you took that as an opportunity to tug on his hair as you two made out. his mouth pulled away from yours for the briefest moment; allowing himself to let out a breathy groan. his hands planted themselves firmly on your ass, squeezing hard making you yelp. as you both made out, he was backing you up into the wall; and before you even realized your back was pressed flat against the wall. his knee immediately slid between your thighs, slotting right between them as if you were made to fit against each other. 

his thigh pressed hard against your core, and you let out a stuttering gasp at the pressure. he gradually took hold of all of your senses. he was becoming overwhelming. you gently pushed against his chest, humming against his lip as his tongue continued to play with your bottom lip. he pulled his head away after a few more moments, almost irritated by the prospect of leaving your lips for more than thirty seconds.

“what’s wrong mi amor?” his voice had dropped a couple of octaves. his eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at you. “are you still hurt?” you shook your head in response. he had backed up enough to let you slip out from between him and the wall. you grabbed his hand and led him to your bedroom. the whole apartment was dark aside from the dim lamps you had lit scattered around the few rooms. you could hear the rain still colliding with the glass of your window, however that was mostly drowned out by the pounding of your heart. you swore miguel could hear it as well, which only made matters worse.

you had merely dreamed of scenarios similar to these, never once thinking they could actually become real. some section of your brain wondered if you were passed out in bed already. sure you and miguel were amicable with each other, but he was such a shut off man that you were never really able to characterize what you were to him; and vice versa.

the end of your bed came in contact with your calves, and miguel pushed you down onto it. you landed with a quite huff, while the realization of what was going to happen tonight dawned on you. miguel must’ve seen the deer in headlights look on your face, as he leaned down with his hands bracing himself on either side of your shoulders.

“i want to show you just how grateful i am for what u did for me… only if you allow me.” his face was nothing but completely genuine, giving you a way to say no to all of this if you really wanted to. you didn’t say anything in response, you merely wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him back down into a much more heated kiss. miguel groaned low in his throat at the feeling of you yanking him down. unfortunately for you though, he started pulling away, instead standing upright once more to take on his suit. with a quick shrug of his shoulders his chest was exposed, suit still sitting low on his hip. not like it was hiding anything from you. you could clearly see the line of his hard dick straining against this unstable molecular prison.

“baby, if you want this to keep going… im gonna have to hear you say it.” the corners of his mouth were tugged upwards in a sly smirk. he wanted nothing more than to hear you say how much you wanted him at this moment. fuck he felt his cock jump at the mere thought of your plush lips opening to beg for him. he watched as you opened and closed your mouth a few times, observing the way your struggled with vocalizing your thoughts.

“miguel…” your voice was a pathetic whimper, and you squeezed your thighs together to alleviate your desperation. miguel’s practically rolled back into his skull, hearing you say his name like that– his big hand gripped your knees which had been brought up to your chest, his talons threatening to spring out and dig into your soft skin.

“say it baby. i gotta hear you say it.” he edged you on, his erection now pressed firmly against your ass as encouragement.

“miguel please… i need you so bad. dreamt about this moment.” your confession felt like a swift quick to the chest, successfully ridding his lungs of any oxygen. you’d dreamt about this before. how could he hold back now.

“dios mío… siento que un día me vas a matar.”[4] his voice was a mere growl at this point, his jaw clenched as he stared down at you. “tell me, what exactly have you dreamt about?” he shifted you further up onto the mattress, giving him the opportunity to box you in with his huge frame. embarrassment was licking at your subconscious like flames, making your whole body get swelteringly hot. but there was something in miguel’s expression that egged you on. you felt like you were going to die if you didn’t tell him.

“i think about your teeth…a lot… recently i’ve found myself– ugh this is so…” you covered your face with your hands before continuing on. “i think about you biting me…again i guess… i think about your venom.” you just never ceased with rendering miguel speechless, he guessed it was just one of your many talents at this point.

you were starting to get nervous about your confession. miguel hadn’t responded yet, but before you could get too into your own head you felt his lips ghost over you neck; right across the spot he bit you the first time. your breath hitched in your throat, and you involuntarily whimpered.

“you’ve really gotta trust me if you want that. you’d give everything up to me.” you only nodded your head. you trusted him; in all honesty you think you trusted him more than almost anyone in the society. you heard him click his tongue sharply.

“what did i say earlier? if you want this i gotta hear you say it.” you felt his breath fan over your neck, as he peppered small kisses all over it and your chest. you had wrapped your legs around his waist, and he was very gently grinding down into you. gentle vibrations wracked their way through your entire body causing small gasps and whimpers to come spilling from your kiss swollen lips.

“please miguel… i surrender everything to you. i trust you.” that was all he needed to hear before he bit down into your trapezius muscle, just like before. only this time you were much more aware of the effects now. he stayed like that for a couple seconds longer, before detaching from your neck and licking away the blood from the wound. slowly but surely you felt all motor functions slip from your body. you were overcome with this euphoric dullness, you felt like you were floating. while you slowly felt all control drain from your body, miguel was making quick work of your clothes, sharp claws slicing through your shorts and shirt like it was nothing. he whispered promises of new clothes as he continued with your bra and panties.

“how are you feeling mi amor? can you speak at all?” you acknowledged miguel’s questions with a quiet moan. as much as he wanted to take his time with you, work you up before tearing everything back down; he knew he had very little patience left, and limited time to work with the venom. your metabolism was extremely fast in comparison to the usual suspects he would subject his venom to, so he had much less time to keep you in this dreamy haze. he wanted to make sure the only word you could think of was his name.

the rest of his spider suit disappeared into nothing as he positioned you. you legs had fallen from his waist a little while ago when you first started feeling the venom, so he flipped you over onto your stomach. he arms wrapped underneath your hips to hoist you up so your ass was in the air, with your back arched and chest pressed into the mattress beneath you. he knew he was going to warm you up. miguel hasn’t exactly had many partners as of late but he was aware of his size. one of his hands found its way to your pussy, his other hand bracing your hip and keeping you steady. his fingers rubbing gentle circles into your clit. hazy pleasure rolled through you, like waves lapping at the shore. long strung out moans clawed their way up your throat; spurring miguel on. his fingers had moved from your clit, moving deeper in as they breached your hole. a deep groan echoed through to room.

“christ you’re so fucking wet. such a slut, ready to give up any control.” god his dick was painfully hard now. pulsing steadily every few seconds, weeping precum and begging to be buried deep in your hot cunt. he felt your walls flutter and clench when he degraded you, and he filed that information deep into his brain. his fingers were so overwhelming through the fog that settled inside your skull. your breaths had become erratic, chest rising and falling to desperately take in air. you moans were cracking, as miguel fully rammed three fingers in and out of you.

“i hear you baby, i hear you. im gonna take care of you.” he curled his fingers in search of that one spot that would make you see stars. it didn’t take long for him to find it as your volume increased even more. 

“m-mig…” you desperately tried to form words; to warn miguel of your rapidly approaching orgasm. you were fighting against the paralysis and the overwhelming floating feeling. your pussy clenched down tight against miguel’s fingers, a sudden wetness coating most of his hand. he pumped his fingers a couple more times as he worked you through your orgasm. once your breathing settled a little he gently took his fingers out of you. he took his fingers into his mouth, grunting as your taste flooded his taste buds. 

his patience had thoroughly snapped, two iron grips digging into your hips as he lined himself up with your aching pussy. he steadily began to push himself into you, breath getting punched out of him with every inch your hot walls enveloped. once he finally bottomed out, you both needed time to catch your breath. you were so full of him and you finally felt complete. the only thing you could think about was miguel. no amount of time could have prepared you for miguel to start moving. he immediately set a brutal pace, the sounds coming out of him resembling that of an animal. 

“god you’re– holy fuck- practically strangling me. greedy pussy just sucking me in for more.” you struggled to comprehend what he was saying. miguel curled in on top of you, pressing you flush against his broad chest. one hand started rubbing hard circles into your clit, whiled the other held you firmly to him. the placement of his arm across your chest allowed him access to your nipples, something he quickly took advantage of. he tweaked and pinched the hard pebble, as he struggled to keep his eyes open. he wanted to look at your face as he caused you to come undone for a second time. your mouth had lulled open, freely drooling onto the pillow beneath your head. tears squeezed their way out of your eyes.

your bodies stuck together, the sweat clinging to your skin. miguel continued to incoherently mumble spanish to you, and you were far too blissed out to listen to anything at all. the white hot coil in the very bottom of your stomach threatening to snap. you cunt fluttered and clamped down on miguel’s dick. it only spurred him on even more, his pace punishing now as he fucked you into the mattress. a long broken scream boomed from your throat as you came, your vision going completely white despite you eyes being clenched tightly shut. your eyebrows screwed up in an expression of pure pleasure. miguel slammed down fully into you, his cock kissing your cervix as he came with a loud moan. you were already so full of his cock that there was practically no room for him cum. he watched with wide eyes and his cum spilled from your spent pussy dripping down around his cock that was still inside you.

he let you both level out before pulling out as carefully as possible. the friction still causing you to cry out in overstimulation. miguel hushed your cries by pressing light kisses all over your face and neck. his thumbs brushed away the stray tears. he finally turned you back over, carefully laying your head back down onto the pillow below you.

“can you move at all mi amor?” your headspace had still not returned to normal, seeing as how you didn’t really respond. miguel got up from the bed and quietly padded over to your kitchen. you whimpered out for him to return, not enjoying the silence of being alone in the room in this loopy headspace you’ve found yourself in. a few moments later he returned to the room, a cup of water and warm washcloth in his hands. the bed dipped underneath the weight of his body as he set the cup of water on the table for a moment and began working on getting you clean. once this was done he flung the now dirty washcloth into your hamper.

his strong arms shifted you for the last time that night, leaning you against him with your head cradled against his chest once he had gotten comfortable. with you in this position he reached over to grab the water and pressed the rim to your bottom lip, silently offering. you dipped your head back just enough to take a couple of careful sips before relaxing your head against him once again. with the rain as white noise in the background you drifted in and out of consciousness. 

“gracias, mi amor.” 

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

[1] - whatever

[2] - i was so scared that i felt like vomiting

[3] - i wanted... to thank you for saving my life

[4] - dear god... why do i get the feeling you're going to be the death of me

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